Well, that’s how it goes in my family.
My reputation as a knitter has been in tatters since February’s Murchison A&P Show.
Post show, I was forced to hold a sign saying LOSER for a photo with the three sisters brandishing their prize-winning knitted toy rabbits. (There is no publishable copy of this photo because it looks as if it was taken during a power cut by someone with seriously bad eyesight. We may be awful to one another, but we draw the line at photo doctoring.)
Last year, after we observed the paucity of show knitting entries, the sisters and three other show regulars agreed we should boost this year’s lineup by each making a knitted rabbit toy from a simple pattern I had found involving a garter stitch square.
Theoretically, I should have been ahead of the bunch, since I have made many of these rabbits as cat toys, complete with bells and catnip inside.
Questions were asked about the Auckland-dwelling sister’s decision to knit hers in a faux fur yarn.
"What part of faux fur celebrates our agricultural and pastoral heritage?" I whined.
Pre-show, the Earthquake Baby, one of the Murchison contingent, and who had struggled to complete her entry because she had knitted it in 4-ply wool and made it ridiculously big, reckoned if the ADS won, we could all band together and stump up the money to lodge a protest.
The EB was strangely silent about that when the ADS won, possibly because she came third.
Second place went to the other Murchison sister, the Queen of Cookery.
I have been avoiding having much to do with the knitting needles since that ignominy, but around the time the elusive Princess of Wales was doctoring that family snap, I was altering my prize-losing jersey entered in a different class in the show.
While she was using photoshopping technology, I was relying on a YouTube video to tell me how to extend a garment from the cast-on edge since the jersey had always been a little short. My process involved a fair bit of swearing, dropped stitches and leftover strange tufts of wool.
I expect the princess’ approach was more refined.
I wasn’t surprised my jersey was unplaced. Like Kate’s photo, it had alignment issues — around the sleeve/neckline shaping.
Spookily, what I have noticed is that the design and colours in my jersey are similar to that worn by young Prince Louis in the infamous photo. With a bit of adjustment from an expert photoshopper I am sure hardly anyone could tell the difference.
I should have known better than to seek advice from the sisterhood about what this could mean, from a conspiracy theorist point of view.
The ADS: "That is genuinely creepy. I’m surprised that you’ve been secretly sucking up to Kate and sending her hand-knits."
The EB: "If you are now trying to have a royal connection Nigella, you are barking up the wrong ball of wool. Or Jackie O, is it just your devilishly good fashion sense? Who will ever know?"
I told her she was just jealous because the pom-pom tail on her bunny was a dud (it disintegrated soon after the show and I have been given the job of remaking it.)
EB: "That’s right. Oh, remind me where I was placed in the bun-bun competition."
Cruel. The QC has been mercifully silent so far, but I fear that may not last.
Am I now, as well as being a rubbish knitter, a wannabe royalist/domestic goddess/fashion icon? Really?
If I wear my newly extended royal lookalike jersey in public, will republicans find that intimidating? Will royalists think I am on their side and expect me to practise my curtseying or burst into loud renditions of "God save the King" every time there is a lull in the conversation? Perhaps I could counter that by singing "Girls just wanna stay warm".
Is there a risk some people might think I am having a second childhood, pretending I am about to have my sixth birthday, like Louis? (I wouldn’t say no to some cake and prezzies. Just saying.)
If I try to fight any misunderstandings and unjustified conclusions about my wearing of this garment, claiming it is my right to freedom of expression and a statement of my identity, I will be faced with having to work out what that statement is.
It might be easier to wear a gang patch.
P.S. My losing bunny has found a home with my aunt and her cat Dolly. My aunt appreciated the gift, even though at nearly 95 she is still expertly knitting much more complicated toys. It gives me hope.
- Elspeth McLean is a Dunedin writer.
