A true Story:
Last August it was suggested that the members of the craft group I go to on Mondays do a joint project involving making knitted and crocheted squares, adorning the ones that seemed too plain, and joining them together. This all had a theme linked to an early medieval woman.
I said a bit sadly that I couldn't crochet and that although I was taught knitting at school I'd forgotten how.
Over the next few weeks I realised that maybe I did still know how to knit. I rootled in cupboards and found long-forgotten needles and balls of yarn. I started to knit.
So did everyone else.
Our skill levels varied, the yarn we used was of different thicknesses and fibres, our needles and hooks were of different gauges: it is quite astonishing how much 8" squares can vary in size. And shape.
We did have a unifying colour scheme (green). Some of us stuck to it. One friend found a stash of purply-brown squares that she'd made 20 years ago and never used, and stuck them into the mix (which was really sneaky). They looked very good, mixed with all the greens.
The great day came for sewing together. We started by joining four small squares into one larger one. The canny among us tried to ensure we started with four same-sized squares. Sometimes we were thwarted when pals raided us when our backs were turned because they coveted a particular colour or pattern. We learned that crochet squares are easier to squash and warp to shape than knitted ones. Further crochet was deployed to enlarge some particularly small offerings. I still can't crochet, so had no part in that, but I had knitted 12+ squares and did plenty of stitching together.
Then we started to join our 4-squares together to make 16-squares. As you may imagine, the size differences were adding up, and although the middle of each 16-square was neat and precise, the outsides beginning to form exceedingly non-straight edges.
At that stage, out oldest member, well into her 80s, took over. We were ordered to stop knitting, she took everything home. She joined all the blocks together. Where necessary she knitted little unifying strips in a harmonious colour. She prodded it and tweaked it and brought it back to us looking - transformed.
It was perfect, just what our early medieval woman would have wanted.
Since December it's been displayed in churches and community halls, in a tourist office and a heritage centre. We all look at it beadily making sure our own squares are holding up to all the excitement.
I'm still doing a bit of knitting (I have mittens all ready for next winter) but always using stuff from stashes or charity shops - the nearest wool shop is 25 miles away and ordering from UK suppliers has been complicated by customs regulation.
I love the idea of Swash's blanket, but the degree of organisation and co-ordination is daunting in the extreme - so very different from our anarchic approach.