KIPper Day

was celebrated yesterday by those of us who appreciate the finer art of knitting. KIPper day you ask? A lot of people asked too.
It was "World Wide Knit in Public Day" (KIP? - Knit in Public? - yes, you are right.) We local knitters in the know headed for the local bookshop. We normally knit inside the bookshop - in full view of the passing parade. Yesterday we huddled outside, after all we had to Knit in Public. Sam, the boy who works in the bookshop on Saturdays, had to go and get more chairs from their storage space there were so many of us.
The youngest was 9 yr old Harry. He came last year as well. He can knit quite well. He had a male companion this year. The sight of two males knitting was enough to cause a lot of people to stop and comment. We had to spend quite a lot of time explaining that knitting was orginally a male occupation, that it was a seven year apprenticeship in mediaeval times and....well, quite a lot of other information as well.
The oldest was a woman of 85. She has been knitting for 81 years. She still wins prizes for her socks.
I decided on some plain knitting and multi-colour yarn as the shawl has reached the critical point where I need to think about what I do next. (This is always a problem as I am foolish enough to knit without a pattern. I do not like being told what to do when I am knitting anymore than I like to be told what to do anywhere else. ) I also have enough problems without trying to do something as manually complex as that in public. It needs quiet and concentration.
My father was supposed to have a day to himself in the shed. My sister was calling in to check at lunchtime. Instead she dropped by the knitting group to tell me that he had been invaded by someone who does not know when to go home. His visitor was one of those people who simply do not know what to do with themselves. They assume other people do not know what do with themselves either. They visit in the belief that others have nothing to do and will welcome several hours of unannounced company.
Now, if they would only say they were coming, I might make cheese scones.