KNITTING GOT BIG!
No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you — the latest crafting trend is truly supersized
MY TWeNTYSOMeTHING nieces collapsed into fits of giggles when I told them recently that I had been taught to knit at school. Thanks to the joys of a horribly sexist 1970s education, the boys were packed off to learn about woodwork and metalwork, while us girls were coached in sewing and knitting.
Sewing I found faffy and boring, but knitting became my hobby as I created scarves, blankets, mittens and — my speciality — tea cosies. But, like so many knitters, other things got in the way and I gradually stopped clicking my needles. This month, that all changed when I, once again, experienced the buzz of satisfaction as I proudly held up something I’d crafted from scratch.
Knitting is big again. Huge in fact. ‘Big knitting’ or ‘extreme knitting’, as it’s sometimes called, is a new craft trend. Using supersized needles and a ball of yarn the size of a space hopper, knitters can churn out something eye-catching in a fraction of the time it would normally take.
Prior to lockdown, big knitting clubs had sprung up all over the country, with experienced knitters and beginners getting together to chat, enjoy a drink and churn out their mega blankets.
A quick glance at social media shows that big-knitting creations have become the latest thing to brag about, with people displaying their blankets and throws on sofas and beds. Now, there are plenty of online retailers selling big-knitting kits, including John Lewis and Not On The High Street, but I ordered my Lulu Big Blanket kit from South Yorkshirebased Wool Couture.
DeSCrIBed as an ‘epic extreme knit’, it sounds like it could be a dangerous sport rather than a fluffy blanket made from 100 per cent Merino wool.
The kit costs £164.99, which isn’t cheap, but this is a luxury item, and a Merino wool blanket of the size I’m making would cost more than £200 to buy.
I chose a turquoise shade in 4kgsize (8.8 lb) yarn. The wooden needles measure 20in long and are 5 in in circumference. It’s going to be like knitting with two rolling pins! The pattern tells me to cast on 25 stitches, which is where I hit my first problem. The yarn is so chunky there’s no way I can fit that number onto the needle and — big knitting maverick that I am — I go with 16 instead.
My big blanket is to be made by doing one row of knit then a row of purl. These are the basic knitting stitches. When used alternately, they create a ‘stocking stitch’, giving a plaited pattern on one side and wavy on the other. A leaflet has easy-to-understand instructions, but I’m amazed at how quickly it all comes back to me, despite a 30-year gap.
I’m only a few minutes in when I start to see the appeal of big knitting. The blanket grows in size pleasingly quickly and, after just one evening, I’ve produced about a foot of knitting.
Serious knitters will know that something called ‘tension’ is vital. It’s a gauge that’s given with every pattern that shows how many rows should fit into a four-inch square. If you have more rows than stated, you are knitting your stitches too loosely; fewer rows, you are knitting too tightly.
And they will therefore be horrified to know that I have never bothered with tension checking. (This is the equivalent of a chef saying they never taste their own cooking.) It’s fiddly and, in this case, as I’m already knitting without the required number of stitches, it’s pointless. Although the blanket grows in size at an impressive rate, I find the needles awkward to work with and hard to grip.
I grew up watching my mother and grandmother knit, and one of the things I loved was the clickclacking sound of their metal needles, which, sadly, you don’t get with wooden ones. Just an endless series of knocking noises.
The bigger — and heavier — my blanket grows, the harder it is to work the needles. By the time I get to the end of the first week of knitting, I’m two-thirds of the way through and feel like I’ve done a full upper-body workout every time I complete a row.
Previously, I’ve liked to knit in front of the TV, but this blanket takes too much concentration and effort to slip huge stitches off huge needles. Instead, I take the knitting to bed with me and do 15 minutes (usually enough to do eight rows) before lights-out. It’s not relaxing, but it is satisfying.
I slip the needles under my bed at night, safe in the knowledge they’ll make an excellent selfdefence weapon to whack someone with should anyone attempt to murder me in my sleep.
By the time I enter the second week, I have taken to starting my morning with a cup of tea in bed and a ten-minute knitting session. It may make me sound like a grandma, but big knitting is also being embraced by a younger, hipper crowd.
Claire Gelder, the founder of Wool Couture, says that big knitting is hugely popular in the UK and the U.S., where she ships many kits. She also experienced up to a 1,000 per cent increase in sales during lockdown.
AfTer 11 days of knitting (with a couple of days off to let my aching muscles recover), I’ve completed my blanket and, since I have yarn left over, I add another 8in for good measure.
I cast off, tidy up loose ends and admire my creation with pride. It looks cosy, fluffy and fashionable. Come the winter, I can imagine snuggling up in it as I watch television or using it as an extra cover in my draughty bedroom.
In less than a fortnight, I’ve not only produced a blanket I’d be thrilled with if somebody gave it to me as a gift, I have also toned up my bingo wings. Big knitting gets the big thumbs up from me.