There is something about knitted toys, cardys or vests. They bring back memories of my Grandma on my mums side....I can seeing her sitting in the kitchen at her spinning wheel or hear the clicks of her knitting needles as they whizz something into being. When I knit my needles certainly don't whizz...actually I don't think they even click....I am far too slow for that which is probably why I don't knit very often and when I do its usually tiny baby things because anything bigger takes way too long.
I remember my favourite childhood toy was a hand-knitted Father Christmas which I think my Grandma knitted me. I got a Father Christmas and my sister got a snowman I think. Father Christmas went everywhere with me. My mum just reminded me of the time I left him in a motel room in Takaka in the South Island and we had to get him posted back to us. He was that special! I also remember when the time came when I said goodbye to him. I am not entirely sure how old I was but I remember saying a sad goodbye as I put him in the barrel with a heap of other toys to give to the poor children that didn't have any toys. Really when I think about that now...no one would of wanted a very very loved matted homemade Father Christmas that had lost his nose and sported a dirty beard. But at the time I believed I was doing a very noble thing. Tears come to my eyes as I think about that now. My sister still has a hand-knitted lambie that has literally traveled the world with her. I am a little jealous she still has him.
I do so hope this guy and all his friends make it to a home and into the arms of someone that will love them as much as I loved my hand-knitted Father Christmas.
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