That Kathryn from Colenso has some insight.
Inside the door, under large sun-filtering windows, is a big square table called “The Communal Table”. In the middle of the table is a bright red rubber woven basket, with a large soft homely ball of Western District wool, spun in Kyneton by Meskills. The label has a phone no that pre-dates the standard (03) Victorian codes. Found in an op-shop, we consider it “rescue wool”.
Dangling from a pair of knitting needles is a confused looking scarf of indeterminate tension and style. Knitting is not normally a communal thing because each knitter’s tension varies, and so while there’s benefit in sharing the experience, sharing projects can cause a lot of tension in itself, hence the unwritten knitters rule about not sharing needles. Except at Colenso, where anybody who feels inclined is welcome to contribute to the scarf. And they do!
Back in the Riverina, I spent a lot of time with my mum, knitting in front of the fire. Her sister, Aunty June, has just turned 70-something and has been knitting for about 80 years. She’s always keen for a fireside chat, and during the heady days of my 20’s, in the grip of a full-scale knitting addiction, there was plenty of bonding with cups of tea and divine yo-yo bikkies. Performing left-brain gymnastics: knit one pearl two cable twist loop, the right brain took care of some good ole heart felt opinion. “I think you’ll struggle knitting that 8 ply black mohair cable cardigan at night; 1,2,3,4,5,6 twist, 1,2,3,4,5,6 purl 2,3, plain; you can’t marry that boy; cast off six and turn; anyone for a cuppa?” Happily sharing their wisdom -- but not the secret yo-yo recipe.
Departing for the wild blue yonder with a half knitted jumper for a cousin, I promised to post it home. Back before we all became terrorists, a wool-wielding backpacker knew that two pair of needles and a few hundred grams of Aussie Merino was the instant answer to a 20 hour flight with a 3 hour stopover. When all the touristy jumpers in Ireland looked the same, it was a no-brainer to knit my travelling companion's birthday present as we hitchhiked for 6 weeks. And when my first baby was 3 months old and I was scared of the dark in a new house/town, and husband was away on a 12 day trip, I sat and knat all night in bed, producing a little woolly cardy by dawn. Yes, it seems you can knit anywhere for any reason. Productive use of idle time.
Back at Colenso, where groups of people at the communal table engage in robust discussion, a few are just wanting to sit…. “I think it’s so nice to use your hands while enjoying the surroundings and the coffee,” said Kathryn, “I’ve put the wool there and whoever wants to have a go is welcome to pick it up and do some.”
And so while I finished an assignment on the laptop, the man across the way read his paper, and his wife, perhaps channelling my Aunty June, just sat and knat.
It’s all good at the communal table.
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