Peter Twomey
I am a male. I struggle at cooking. I struggle at ironing. I struggle at Jane Eyre. The fact that this supposed fallacious, out-dated stereotype is still alive and well within me is indeed worrying and, inspired by such, there have been numerous times where attempts have been made to address these shortcomings. I’ve signed up for cooking courses; cancelled, made hopeful new years resolutions; failed, started Pride and Prejudice; fell asleep. Yet, or so I figured, hope was not lost. There was one activity indelibly linked with the 1950’s female ideal that had so far passed under my radar, an activity based solely on practicality and simple pleasure. Perhaps I could master this archaic skill and my present dashed dreams of becoming a domestic goddess could finally come to fruition.
Trinity’s Knit Soc, as has been made abundantly clear, is the kind of society that I would generally vehemently avoid. The thought of participating in such a skilled craft is a frightful one, even worse given the fact that I would be surrounded by experts and pros who would surely get great pleasure in seeing me, the struggling hack, fail miserably. Alas, with an amiable email from a girl named Hildegard, I became bound to the task of attending a weekly ‘Stitch and Bitch’ session and display to the world of Trinity stitch masters my confused and useless hands.
On climbing the stairs of House 6 and entering into the familiar Eliz rooms I was immediately greeted by four smiling masters of the knitting vocation. They took to assuring me that I was not the first feckless male they’ve ever had and workshops are held regularly to accommodate for simpletons like yours truly. In fact, Knit Soc hosts many events and, on that very night, they were crowned with the prestigious title of ‘Best Overall Society’ at the CSC Society of the Year awards and, after spending a mere hour with this acclaimed group, it was easy to see why. They were welcoming, friendly, helpful and, most importantly, extremely patient.
Knit Soc, which was set up less than a year ago, aims to combine enjoyment of a timeless art with the benefit of improved knitting skills . They organise both advanced and beginner workshops but, even in the established faction of loyal knitters, the level of skills varied immensely. Top of the class was Rachel, an American visiting student, who told me that she had been knitting since she was 8. Alex and Katy both held ample skills and (a different) Rachel was a newbie like me.
So, as was the sole purpose of my visit, I was taught to knit. Luckily, I think my natural knitting prowess, or lack thereof, was detected very quickly by Katy and she kept me to the humble knit stitch. It took several attempts before even a simple resemblance of a woolly pattern formed, but by the time I had to leave I was able to take a little token memento back home to impress any keen ladies I met on the way.
Also, bitching, which was supposed to constitute half of proceedings, was indeed in full flow. A charming girl called Kiera arrived about half way through and, as we all listened intently, lay on us some hilarious gems about break-up in Paris and being swindled by TCD’s Come Dine With Me. Conversation seldom dragged and it is not often that one can feel so at home with a group of complete strangers.
Once the time came to leave I felt assured of several things: First off, technically I still can’t knit. Secondly the girls of Trinity Knit Soc will be very tough competition to whomever they meet in the National CSC Finals. Lastly, my visions of a Martha Stewart-esque future will never materialise.