Saturday 5 June 2021

Four plastic boxes

suddenly appeared outside our front door yesterday. They were not there when I left. They were there when I arrived home. I was not expecting anything.

These days I am also cautious. It does not do to put your paws into unknown places. I put the gardening gloves on and pulled one of the boxes open. 

Ah, of course! There was yarn in the box. There was yarn in the other three boxes too of course. Someone - I had no idea who - had left yarn with me. On the top of the last box - which of course was underneath all the others - I found a note which said "Handknitters - for charity knits". 

Right. Thank you for lettting me know but who are you? I had not been approached by anyone asking if they could leave anything. 

It is not the first time yarn has been left with me for the same purpose. Over the years a number of elderly people I know have cleared out cupboards and even entire rooms. They have given me yarn to pass on - or even to keep for myself. Most of them, even those who knit themselves, have no idea how long it would take me to get through the quantities I have been given. I keep passing it on. Yes, the Handknitters' will take it. It is likely that they will pass most of it on to an excellent organisation called "Knit4Charities" and it will be used to make useful garments and more for people in need. 

Gradually though I think the magical cupboards which stored such stash are becoming a thing of the past. The generation below that one, my generation, has knitters of course but there are not so many of them. We work differently too. We need to because the wonderful local wool shops have gone out of business. The internet killed them off - often by suffocating them slowly and painfully. They have gone the same way as so many bookshops.

All I have done is to peep into each box - to do no more than reassure myself that they all contain yarn of some sort. It's not mine.

And, next to the boxes, there was a sturdy bag. In it there was some rather special sock wool. It was labelled "for the Mob". Four young people I know are going to be delighted. Their sock knitting skills are now good enough to allow them to knit for others. There will be some warm feet among children in a local hospital before long.

Last night the person who delivered it all phoned me. She apologised for not leaving a message. I assured her it would go where it was intended to go. Her aunt is moving house and other people will benefit because of it.

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