SHOPPING AROUND - A Man Knitting In Public

I come from a family of knitters. It wasn't, however, until the early 1980's that I decided to learn how to knit. I was working in an Art Shop in Barnet when a wool shop opened up next door. I bought a small introductory How To Knit booklet, needles and practice wool, then started to teach myself. This was in the days before You Tube tutorials, so you just had to get your head around how to do stitches from, frankly, not very helpful diagrams.

Once I'd begun, I found I instinctively knew how to do some of it. Having sat at my Grandma's knee, helped ball up skeins of wool, and watched her and my Mother knit. The first garment I finished was a truly gargantuan green mohair jumper ( it was the 80's ) This stayed stuffed in a bag in a wardrobe for years. I was so embarrassed by it I never wore it. The moths then got to - so I binned it. To this day, though I carefully do test swatches till my hands and eyes bleed,  I can never quite get my sizings exactly right. But I eventually did a passable Arran jumper, mastered a sleeveless bottle green cable jumper I wore endlessly for years, then progressed on to Fair Isle. 

In my lunchtime break I took to going to the nearest local park, found a quiet corner with a covered seating area, got out my needles and knitted. All went well the first few times. But then one lunch break a young urchin on a child's bike stopped and looked at me a perplexed. He said:-

'What you makin?'

'A scarf'

'Don't girls knit?

'Yes, but so do I'

'But your not a girl'

'Yes, that's true'

And with a

'Hmph'

he rode off

This was not to be the end of it. The young urchin may have left,  but only to find scruffier friends to tell them what he'd just seen, and return with them to witness 'a man knitting in public'. 

The gang was a mixture of ages, the young urchin being probably the baby of the outfit. There was also some sort of ranking, where the taller, older and grubbier one was. the higher up the leadership ladder one rose. The present leader approached me on his bicycle alternating between balancing on it and cycling backwards and forwards in a predatory manner, whilst he fired off questions at me.

'Why do you want to knit?"

'Because I enjoy it'

'Why do you want to do it here?'

'I come to the park to relax and have my lunch'

'But knitting is what girls do'

Oh here we go again, I thought, replying

'No it isn't, anyone can do it'

After a short pause for some thought, he found the question he'd really been searching for.

'Are you a poofter'

'Non of your business'

You are. Aren't you? You're a poofter. Poofters knit'

And as this descended into general sniveling, giggling and jeering from the rest of the group, I started to be nervous at the direction the conversation had now lurched. 

'Look, clear off and let me have my lunch in peace.'

'Your a poofter, cos you are knitting. A real man wouldn't knit.'

'Well, I do, so... fuck off'

I realised then that a sub group of older boys were pulling in closer and this wasn't so they could admire my amazing stitch tension. If I didn't make a move soon I'd be corralled by a phalanx of spotty teenagers on bicycles. I packed up my lunch box, made an intention to leave the park, and walked calmly away. Which I did. With the sound of them squealing:-

'Wanker' 'Poofter'  'Shirt Lifter' 'OOOwee'

as I walked away. I finished off my lunch on a bench near the High Street, without visible knitting. I never tried public knitting nor went to that park, or any park for that matter, to knit, ever again.

These days I knit in the shop quite openly. And most of the time that feels perfectly fine.  But there are days when couples wander into the Courtyard. Blokes give me the evil eye, when they see I'm knitting. Homosexual alert written across their eyebrows. I hear them mutter to their wives as they walk away:-

'Did you see that guy in there, he was knitting.'

Or aggressively pull their wife away from deep sniffing the wax melts, with a:-

'There's nothing we want from here Beryl'

Its as though male knitting were some strangely distasteful craft, like voodoo head shrinking. I've wondered how often folk don't come in the shop because they see a bloke knitting, sewing or doing crochet,and simply find that too challenging. One look at my yarn and needles, daggers are drawn, adjust their bandanna or Liverpool supporters football shirt. Hurrying the little woman along. Nothing to see here.

At other times a single women will come in and say

'It's good to see a man knitting'

Whilst I know they mean well, it does feel patronising, whilst not being clear why exactly it's 'good' to see a man knitting. They are just trying to be encouraging, and understand that a man kitting in public is still risking ridicule. Others more straightforwardly say:-

'It's unusual to see a man knitting.'

Which it is, but it shouldn't be. Men have always knitted, top designers knit, sportsmen knit, actors knit, fishermen used to knit and repair their Gansey's, men being seen knitting ought not to be thought that unusual. But it is. They say:-

'What is it you're knitting' 

'A facecloth'

And this for some reason prompts an outpouring of guilt, remorse and self recrimination about past or present failures.

'I don't get on with knitting, more a crochet person. Nothing too adventurous mind. I just don't have the patience. I can't find the time these days. But one day, you never know, I might have a surge.... of inspiration. Though I'm far too lazy really, no patience me'

One lady recently too a posed photo of me knitting, presumably to pass round their more  interesting friends.

'I found this very exotic animal working in a Sheringham shop, it was a man knitting. Very unusual. knitting a scrubbie, I think he called it, out of dishcloth cotton. Quite remarkable'

It is more than likely that they're taking the photo as encouragement to their husband- brother - son, whose a closet knitter, but really needs to get out more.

Come on Brothers! Lift up your needles in solidarity! Go Public! Break the Taboo.