The Do Over

This morning, I swam. It wasn’t for long, but I swam in the Cornish winter sea. My fingertips tingled and my breath caught as I made my way into the salty water. The sun woke up my still sleepy eyes. It was a moment of utter clarity; The Do-Over had worked out ok. Very much ok. 

Eleven months ago there had been a moment of equal momentous reality. It was 10:50 in the morning on Boxing Day, and I was about to sit down on the sofa, I was still in my pj’s and had  a fresh mug of coffee in my hand. I looked at the clock, and as I did, my body started to scream into my brain “This needs to change!”. It was true. So true, in fact, that my brain thought that it was being entirely novel when during a rather bleak, rainy, walk along a canal on New Year’s Eve, it decided that “If everything is the same this time next year, something has gone drastically wrong.”. Well, once things were settled, with my brain naively believing that it was in the lead, there was not much to do other than get on with things and move. 

We can skip over the majority of the eleven months before my epiphany this morning. It’s safe to say that there were furious dumpster-fires that raged through the proceeding years, but this time the fire had a drive, which led me to a plan. The plan was simple; move to Falmouth. I had been talking about it for the past two years after all, and Cornwall (in general terms) for four years before then. It was time. 

However, I wasn’t aware then how much The Knitted Wardrobe would play in the grand scheme of things, and of all the things that have happened in the past while, this is the part that brings me a vast amount of joy, and I would like to share it with you. 

The truth of the matter is that The Knitted Wardrobe was never actually planned. It was a concept that took shape very quickly over the period of three months as I designed the first sweater I wanted to publish; The Cornish Paths. It’s a solid pattern; a Gansey sweater with cables and a choice of neck lines in lots of sizes. From concept to publication it only took five months, and as I think about it now I gasp at the whole project. It took every minute of every day I had outside of working full time. There was a lot that I learned from it; how to run a successful test knit for one thing (as it wasn’t), as well as the conversations around published patterns, which we will no doubt discuss in depth over time here in The Knitted Nook. 

My tiny instagram account started to grow, and I dipped my toes into writing both for myself and others. First I started with The Knitted Journal, a newsletter that was sent to subscribers each Saturday morning when I had had enough time to write it during evenings in the week. I saw little shoots of growth, with conversations between other designers and publishers, knitters and yarn dyers, becoming the main part of my day. More and more people were signing up to read my blogs and journals, and I released a shawl pattern in May this year; The Rock Pool.

With each fire that was igniting around my life, The Knitted Wardrobe grew in its power to smother them, and it gave me the courage to continue travelling down to Cornwall and start shaping a life that would bring peace, joy and hope. 

In July I booked my penultimate trip to Falmouth before moving. I had put everything in place over seven months to close my physical rehabilitation studio; a practice I had run for 25 years. I knew it was closing at the end of August, but by then I hoped to be in a position to move for good. Over the five days in July I sat in relative silence. It rained a lot, as it does in Cornwall, and I stayed close to my AirB&B rather than venturing out on expeditions, and it was in this semi-sacred time that I started to sketch what I really wanted to do with The Knitted Wardrobe. 

For the past 40 years I have consciously been drawn to writing as a form of communication. I love the written word. The power to convey emotions, ideas, thoughts, arguments, religions, concepts, science… everything that makes us human… in combinations of just 26 letters is, quite frankly, mind-blowing to me. Even now as I type it out, I have to take a moment to ponder it. The majesty of it. The history of it. From the carved symbols of rock walls in Africa, hieroglyphs in Egypt, Aztec pictographs, and the Chinese logographic writing system. Writing connects us, and before writing there were stories, and stories were some of the first things we wrote about. 

With The Knitted Wardrobe, I wanted a space where I could help people connect with their tribe through the written word. It was, and is, that simple. In an age of instant dopamine hits through vivid videos and loud noises, and everyone acting like lemmings with AI, it’s important to hold the truth of what writing is to us. It gives us human-to-human connection. It is everything that isn’t robotic.

With 25 years experience of writing and managing published online content, and in that time also falling in love with the sustainable, often handcrafted, textile industry, it was time to pop it all together on one website and tie it with a digital bow. And so I have created a space where we can come together and share stories of adventures, excitement, trials and tribulations, and incredible against-all-odds successes! The best thing about it all is that I am able to do what I love; writing, so other people can do what they love; their work! 

As I sit here at my writing desk, (which is also my dining room table for the time being), with my mug of coffee, the fire glowing in the grate as Finchley snores on the hearthrug, I can safely say that The Do-Over has been a success. 

Here we are, together on an adventure to beat all others; the one where a few lives are changed for the better. 

The Knitted Nook will remain a space where I publish my personal shenanigans about my knitting, sewing, reading, as well as Finchley’s exploits; nothing will change there. But I do hope that you like the website’s Do-Over as well. I like the feel of it; a somewhat grown up version of the teenage outlier that was here before, without losing the personal honesty that lies at the heart of what I offer. 

My toes have finally warmed up after my swim, and I need to refill my coffee after popping another log on the fire. I have a new knitting pattern that I want to read through before I cast on my next swatch this weekend. Life is a lot calmer these days, and for that I shall be forever grateful. 

I look forward to writing to you again soon, (and filling up the Nook’s Grid as it looks rather naked at the moment). Do keep in touch; I love seeing all your projects on Instagram and chatting in the DM’s.

Until next time, may your needles bring you joy, and may your frogging be rare.

Love, Jenny and Finchley