"I can't remember a worse time," as Jarvis Cocker would have it. Knitting a sock for the first time was a daunting challenge for me. For a start, I haven't yet made the leap from magic loop to the black art of DPNs. While knitting a tube made perfect sense, it took a long explanation and many, many drawings by Jen to explain to me how the heel flap and gusset joined in and shaped the heel. Furthermore, I'm at the opposite end of the spectrum from Hazel Tindall and keep trying to get a Guinness World Record for being the world's slowest knitter. They tell me it's impossible to distinguish between knitting slowly and staring blankly into space.
Anyway, this is as far as I've got. I have no idea who it is likely to fit as I cast on far too few stitches to come anywhere near fitting around my ankles.
If and when I do finish this sock, I will then be faced with the biggest challenge, namely making another that is exactly the same size.
I'm not alone though. This was Jen's first effort from many years ago:
Jen's tension was a little tight to say the least and she got a little carried away when working the foot. What she ended up with was a sock that was too tight and too long to be useful. She never cast on for the second sock, but passed the first to a friend whose foot did fit the sock to make the pair herself. Since this rocky start however, Jen has become an expert sock knitter and I am hugely grateful in the winter for that fact.
I'm intrigued to know whether the majority of knitters got socks right the first time, or whether, like us, the first one is a bit of a learning process. Leave a comment and let us know! I'm sure we'd all like to know about Rachel's first sock, wouldn't we?