Why is it the projects for people you love best are always the worst to make?

Last year’s project for Matt’s birthday turned into the sitcom that was Matt’s * * * * ing scarf. link text

This year I sat him down for a chat and fruitlessly attempted to sell him again on the idea of a hat for a present. “I’ve already got a hat”, he said. He still doesn’t get knitters – one of each item is not enough; you need multiple versions in different colours, fibres and styles as the knitting whimsy takes us.

After running through most knittable items in a gentleman’s wardrobe I turned to homewares and thought I was on a winner with the suggestion of a throw for the sofa. “Could it be green?” he asked, hopefully. Yes, Cinders, you can have a green throw.

I decided on the trusty Easy Blanket because it’s relatively fast and not too folksy for the Art Deco cool of Matt’s inner-city pad. Another bulk order of wool from Nundle (one kilo of green, please) and I was off.

Having learned my lesson from the last Easy Blanket, which turned out a bit skinny, link text I dug out the skipping rope and cast on more stitches than suggested in the pattern. This time I went with 67 stitches and settled down with the glow that comes from creating a gorgeous, unique piece of fibre art.

That lasted about two minutes. By the end of the first row I was hating this project and the loathing did not stop until the final end was woven in. First of all, and I feel a twit for saying this, I don’t like green. Don’t know why, just don’t. So being surrounded by a sea of green knitting stretching to the horizon in every direction was unfun. Next, the Nundle wool, normally so reliable, was utterly revolting. Each skein was full of about a haybale’s worth of plant matter and at least two humungous knots. Then the sturdy skipping rope (aka the 20mm circular needle) decided to turn recalcitrant and twist itself violently in the middle of each row. Wrestling the stitches along that monster was vile enough but when one of the ends shot off, taking five or six stitches with it, I nearly chucked the whole thing in the bin and bought Matt a book instead.

I slogged on, holding on to the newly detachable point and twisting and counter-twisting the cable every few stitches but it was never a joy. I realised how miserable it was when I noticed I wasn’t doing all the knitterly things that I normally do mid-project. I didn’t stop to measure it, or drape it over a sofa and survey it proudly from the other side of the room. I just put my head down and motored through till I could cast off and sigh with relief. Even more ridiculously, I wound some yarn for my next project and left it on the coffee table in front of me while I grappled with the Green Thing. It was almost like a woolly light at the end of the (green) tunnel.

The only good thing is that the proportions were a bit better this time. I didn’t stretch out the blanket after I washed it as I reckon it will stretch a lot from its own weight anyway and the finished size is about 120cm square - a decent size for a throw, I think.

As usual, the colours don’t translate well to the PC screen via a dodgy camera phone, but the close up pics are probably a more realistic representation of the green. It’s so very green …

I fervently hope and pray that Stephanie Pearl McPhee link text is right and that knitting projects can’t absorb our hatred and frustration to later ooze it all out over the unknowing recipient. If Matt mentions that he no longer enjoys a quiet night in on the sofa due to disturbingly violent imaginings, I may have to kidnap the throw and hire some sort of knitty exorcist (knitorcist?). I’ll keep you posted.