Mostly they came from charity shops [or op shops as we commonly call them]. They were mostly grubby – at the least. Some were filthy almost beyond imagination. Old McLarsen was on the point of refusal of the worst. But, using my most effective woebegone face and breathless, breaking voice, I convinced him I COULD clean up the worst of them and repair them where necessary.
After all, have I not made, from scratch, four [or was that five?] of them with their multitude of small knitted pieces in the most amazing collection of shapes and sizes and colours. Their place in the scheme of things was so unrecognisable, they had to be pinned together with strange little notes – ‘2 halves of front hand’, ‘left ear’, ‘flower [and stem and leaf]’. Can only imagine what Harry the Painter’s ladder must have been like to knit!
To think of all that work, all that love in every stitch, every row – and then their small Mother just ditches them. There should be an RSPDKGC [Royal Society for the Prevention of Desertion of Knitty Gritty Children]. If I were younger I’d start a protest group. As I’m older, I’ll have to be content with the number of rescues I’ve achieved in my small corner of the world.
SO – you will learn their stories. Perhaps here I’ll share excerpts and links to their full stories for you to read at your leisure? And if you should wish to read them aloud to some small child on your lap, and should you ‘do’ all the silly voices – then please know I am cheering somewhere in the shadows behind you. That’s why I write these small tales – in the hope little children who hear of them will never, ever desert precious babies like these. And nor will the adult in charge allow it to happen.
You probably know why I’m so particularly passionate about this – as I’ve told anyone who’ll listen many, many times, I met my best oldest friend in the world – Ted Bear Esq. – when I was two, and he was new. And now he’s the storyteller to his family of Small Knitty Gritty Kids.