The joy of delayed gratification

After a year of comfort indulgence, Amy Lavelle refocuses on decorating her home, years-long projects and recycling forgotten knits…

Well, I don’t know about you but I spent much of 2021 with a bad case of ‘treat brain’: a chronic problem of reacting to the worries of the outside world by staying inside and overindulging myself. The only thing I have been mindful of is how much chocolate I have in the cupboard!

Recently, though, I’ve been trying to reset my mindset, focusing not so much on instant gratification, but relearning the joys of delaying it. Knitting has always been a means of doing just that for me, as I’m chronically slow on my needles (it’s fair to say I know how to delay the gratification of a finished project). So for the last few months, I’ve been focusing my attention inwards. Inside my home, that is. Usually, it’s my wardrobe that’s gets most of my attention, but after a recent enforced clear out, I’m making the switch to interior design. Given we’re all spending a lot more time in our houses, again, it felt only right to give my own a bit of a spruce. Besides, a pair of knitted tracksuit bottoms would probably take me to at least spring to finish. Just in time to start on that pair of knitted shorts, I’ve been contemplating, perhaps?

MEDITATION IN THE STITCHES

Which brings me to my first attempt at knitting a cushion. It’s a nice change of pace from just buying several cushions, as I did during my Great Cushion Craze of 2021. Making homeware is almost a theme for me at the moment: I’m still working on the 1960’s pattern for an afghan I started way back in 2020—one panel at a time (talk about delayed gratification; my chair is still bare). But the cushion feels a little more achievable. It’s a lot smaller. The pattern calls for cluster stitch, which is another first

for me. Pausing to wind the yarn around my needle each time feels like an act of enforced meditation: I have to be careful not to wrap the yarn too tightly on one stitch or leave too loose a weave on another, or else I’ll end up with a wonky-looking cushion. It’s satisfying watching the pattern come together as I work, plus I’m learning a new stitch in the process. When I’m finished, it brings back the sense of accomplishment that I’ve been missing recently. It’s a welcome change from the instant hit of an impulse purchase and overnight delivery.

LOOKING TO THE PAST

I’ve gone one step further this time, too. I’m turning a couple of old jumpers I’ve made but don’t wear anymore, into cushions, as well. As my husband pointed out, no one else would particularly want to wear them. The boxy bodies and swirls of exotic stitches do make for an interesting sofa centrepiece, though and it’s a useful way of breathing life back into something I put a lot of time and effort into. Looking to the past rather than focusing on the new is part of why I started using vintage patterns in the first place. Reuse, recycle, repurpose, right?

I’m so enjoying myself, I find myself returning to my Afghan during the evenings, working on the next panel. It’s slow progress, but that’s part of why I like knitting: it’s an exercise in mindfulness. And now, I’ve got something new to lounge on while I work. Take that, treat brain. Thanks to my knitting needles, I have overcome you, after all.