Ms W told me. She was standing in front of me with a ball of red wool and looking hopeful.
"You know it would take me ages!"
I stood there looking at her. Ms W can knit. I taught her. It was not because she particularly wanted to learn but because I told her "it might be useful one day". I have knitted pullovers and cardigans, beanies and mittens for her.
I will admit that she does take care of them. For a young teenager she is very good about caring for her clothes. Her father can use the washing machine and put things on the line. He irons his own shirts but it is Ms W who sees to their woollens and the one who is most likely to sew a button on. Mending of any other sort will be taken to the mother of her best friend or brought to me with, "How do I do it?"
Ms W probably takes too much responsibility. She can cook and clean too. I taught her a lot of that, so did her best friend's mother. Now she will also search the internet for instructions. ("It's useful for that but you have to work out which lot of instructions you want to use.")
"It's a square," I told her, "You can knit a square."
She heaved a sigh and said, "It's only a little square."
"Yes, which is why you should do it yourself."
"I did all the felt bits."
"I know. I'll cast on for you and do the first couple of rows."
She smiled. It was that knowing smile. I knitted the square.
Ms W's "houses" are generally made from paper and cardboard but the head of the boarding house at her school wanted a woolly one to use as a tea cosy for her smallest pot. Ms W has made one for her out of felt although she isn't keen on sewing. It is supposed to represent the school boarding house. She wanted the roof to look like the tiles and that meant knitting it.
Knowing Ms W she will admit that I helped.
I know that Ms W's gift will get used - and that is all that matters.