Cast on, cast off

Six months into my knitting career, I seem to have slipped into old habits. These would include "not knitting".

I was snapped out of my cosy, needleless complacency by S's unexpected reappearance in Berkeley. An inveterate knitter herself, she immediately announced that she was to be spending her last evening at knitting circle in El Cerrito, site of my initiation into this brave new world. The same new world that I was thoughtlessly shunning. Well, this was not to be allowed to continue, clearly.

Petitioned by multiple telephone calls, and flattered by the request of my attendance, I assented and set off for the BART. Stepping into 'Melody', the dive bar where it all began, I immediately was put at ease, the decor pleasingly familiar. And also familial - oddly reminiscent of the houses of my Gran and great aunt in Wales. The generous (and dirty) vodka martini most certainly helped too.

Building in confidence, I requested assistance from the assembled luminaries - my first project, the approximately square blue acrylic something-or-other was quite possibly the correct number of rows, but it was still firmly attached to the needle. How could an effective separation be achieved? A leapt to my assistance, and began patiently explaining the process of 'casting off'. It was gratifyingly easy. Within minutes, my creation was free to make its own way in the world.

What to do now? The evening had barely started, and I still had a big glass of spirits and yarn a-plenty. Clearly, it was time to increase further my skill set. After a few dud efforts, I began to form correctly the hand shapes and loops necessary to cast the yarn back onto the needle. And then, needles firmly back in the groove, I knitted 11 rows straight, seemingly oblivious to every distraction, including the attempts of everyone else to go home...