Day four - Where are they now?

Where are they now? – 2KCBWDAY4

Whatever happened to your __________?

Write about the fate of a past knitting project. Whether it be something that you crocheted or knitted for yourself or to give to another person. An item that lives with you or something which you sent off to charity.

A long time ago now I made my first attempt at socks, a veil is best drawn over that first attempt, so awful were the results of that first pair. Unwearable is probably the kindest term for them. Nonetheless it seems I am not easily deterred and this pair was slowly joined by two further pairs of socks, one a bit big, the next finally just right, as Goldilocks would put it. The stage was set for my first foray into patterned socks.

For these socks I chose some Colinette Jitterbug I had obtained in a yarn swap (or in my case yarn buy) we had held at knitting group, in the eye-wateringly bright colourway of "Mardi Gras" and the pattern Broadripple from knitty.com. How I love those socks, the combination of yarn and pattern is just right, in my opinion at least, the yarn is soft and smooshy underfoot, snuggly and warm to wear and wear them I have. They were for a long time my favourite socks, until my first pair of Monkey socks came along (on that front let's just say there's a reason it's the most popular sock pattern on ravelry). The sight of them peeking out of the "window" in my Mary-Janes never fails to cheer me up and I save them for days when it is especially cold.

My main gripe with the yarn was that they have never ceased bleeding colour when washed, even after two years, only cold water and attempts at fixing the colour with vinegar that made the whole house smell like a chippy. For merino socks knit not at a particularly tight gauge they have worn astonishingly well. Until a week or so ago, when to my horror I noticed a hole in the heel. I was devastated. They yet await mending, which will be a difficult task given how thin the fabric has worn across the whole of the heel. I was aware that they were reaching old age in sock years, which come round considerably faster even than dog years, and had been reserving them for days when I would not be walking in them except around the house, but alas in the end Time's winged chariot has proved too much for them.

I am sadly aware that we may not have that much time left together, we shall have to make the most of it once I have succeeded, with the help of a reprint of a wartime "make do and mend" pamphlet, to darn my beloved socks. They say your first love is always the most special: I shall never forget my Jitterbug Broadripples.