I have been learning to knit all my life. Each attempt has ended in abject failure. So much so in fact, that my attempts at knitting have become one of my husband's favourite anecdotes. 'My wife is so tight, even her knitting squeaks!'  Thing is, he isn't being unkind, he is speaking the truth - it really does squeak.  For years I assumed it was the wool protesting in pain at my risible attempts to manipulate it into something recognisable.

Once you have got the idea in your head that you are causing the yarn pain, it's very easy to go off the whole idea and stuff it back in a bag and consign it to the bottom of the things to try mastering list.

Ten days ago I went on a 2 hour course, run by a lovely lady called Freda at Gallery Fifty Five in the Village.   Me and two other ladies sat at the back of the gallery and were shown how to knit in a beginners class. I knew some of the rudiments, but couldn't understand how to address the problem I had when knitting. I even knew the cause, but despite several attempts on my own, had failed to fix it. All my dismal attempts simply added to my crimes against wool, and no doubt would be held against me on Judgement Day.

Freda showed me how to cast on, how to knit, how to purl, taught me to make stocking and garter stitch, even showed me  how to rib and cast off again, all without a single squeak!  I checked the yarn to make sure it hadn't been dunked in some suitable lubricant, and then the needles to make sure they weren't made of some sound proof material as my husband's fondness his pun, was widely travelled hereabouts.

But no, there were no catches or trickery in play, I really was knitting without squeaking! It turns out, having confessed my dilemma to Freda that my problem was to do with technique. I was too stressed when knitting and this effects the tension (I am stressed most the time - knitting stress is just part of situation normal). She told me to relax, to let my hand and arms loosen up, to wiggle my shoulders, and let my hands become floppier. Then she suggested I used needles half a size larger than the wool would normally require.

Then the miracle happened. I was transformed from a wool abusing miscreant, to someone; even  if only the most basic elemental form; I could describe myself as 'someone who knits', and not feel ashamed. Knitting felt natural, my hands didn't ache, my shoulders didn't hunch and make my neck uncomfortable.

Yes, I was really knitting! At the end of the class, Freda urged me to practice, to knit until I felt confident about producing the right number of stitches in a given area. I chose an 8 x 8 inch square and some beautiful merino wool, and thought if I am going to knit lots and practise, rather than waste all those practise squares, I would knit and knit and knit again until I had enough to make a blanket from them.

So above you can see my progress to date, some 25  8 inch squares later I am a quarter of the way through the task I set myself 10 days ago.  I have chosen the colours to remind me of a stormy sea.  I am rather pleased with my efforts, I have only unpicked a couple and re-knitted them as they didn't make the grade, and am even thinking about making another in riotous pinks, reds and oranges.  I shall certainly attend Freda's next classes which are a step on from where I am now, it has to be the best £20 I ever spent learning something.