White men can't ... knit?

I can't believe it's Thursday already, I'm slipping, I'm sorry. Truth is I've been full of cold all week and just not feeling up to anything at all. But what's been happening in February so far?

I managed to get an appointment at the quit smoking clinic. Here I am definitely taking the plunge to get rid of my Irish friend (Nick O'Teene). I almost missed that one too, When you make an appointment they usually print out a little card with the time on, with this clinic being at the community reception though the little card is hand written. My appointment, according to the card was 11.45 so I arrived at 11.40 and went to sign in at the automated machine. Instead of telling me to take a seat it sent me to the desk. The receptionist was really nice and told me to go straight to the clinic door and knock, apparently, when I made the appointment they'd written 11.45 on the card but actually booked me in at 11.15! I was 30 minutes late!! Luckily there was a break in appointments after me so she was still able to see me and my course of treatment begins this morning. It also turns out our local doctors surgery no longer run a well man clinic, but instead do an annual health check from the age of 40. Being 38 I'm still 18 months shy of being able to go for that one so looks like I'll have to work out a plan B for finding out how (un)fit I already am. It's probably a good thing about the well man clinic anyway, after all, my dad went once and was told he was as fit as someone 20 years younger ... that was within 2 weeks before he died so maybe they're not that reliable. 

But anyway, the purpose of today's title. One of the things the quit smoking doctor recommended was to find something to do with your hands, something relaxing that you can substitute for the times you most associate with smoking. Like any addiction it's a case of breaking habits as well as the chemical dependence and replacing them with something more productive. That's something I've been thinking of for a while and it struck me, what better than knitting? 

I know it might seem an odd choice, but it's a soothing repetition, keeps your hands busy and you can set yourself targets to reach before submitting to a 'fix' of your addiction. I've been trying it for the past few weeks and have actually managed to halve my nicotine intake already. 

It was all through a combination of things, firstly I'd seen an article on a show about how in the past few years the trend for male knitting has grown hugely. Apparently now 1 in 5 knitters is male, although some have reported strange looks on the Tube or being accused of shop lifting when they go to buy yarn. Some of the biggest names in modern knitwear design are male at the moment too. When I was a kid Diddymum (yeah, that's our nickname for my mum with her only being 4'10") owned a wool shop so I learned to knit aged 8 (right handed since she is, even though I'm a lefty) but I hadn't touched a pair of needles since so it was almost like starting from scratch. The thing that really decided it forme though was a Christmas present from Han. I'd pointed out that I always liked to have a little something creative to do on Christmas Day, something other than just clothes that  I can actually occupy my time with on Christmas afternoon while we're waiting for Dr Who to start, so she'd bought me this: 

As I said, I hadn't touched knitting needles since I was 8 and even then all I'd learned was a basic stitch, so I thought I'd better re-learn before committing myself to something so adventurous. It turns out, right after Christmas they launched a new part work called, surprise surprise, "Simple Stylish Knitting" that teaches all sorts of different stitches and patterns while you make a patchwork blanket. It seems the gods had spoken. 

So over the past few weeks I've been teaching myself to knit all over again in preparation to make these booties before bump arrives in 6 weeks time. I was actually surprised, it's relaxing and actually really enjoyable. I would say I think I'm hooked, but a hook would be crochet wouldn't it? 

What's that? You want to see what I've done so far? Well if you really insist ...

Not bad eh? Bobbles and all sorts! I am getting adventurous! 

In all seriousness, I really would recommend it for all sorts of reasons. To help fight an addiction, relieve stress, give you a sense of accomplishment and of course, clothe your family. How cool would it be to have your closest wearing something you created for them with your own hands?

So it turns out knitting isn't just for little old ladies sitting at the guillotene in revolutionary France, it's actually a pretty manly pursuit (always has been really, medieval knitting guilds were exclusively male) and a brilliant skill to develop with a baby on the way. Maybe I'll suggest it to the quit smoking clinic at my next appointment and see if they start recommending it as part of the treatment. Who knows, I could spark off an entire new therapy! ;) 

It hit like a bolt of lightening

Well maybe not quite that dramatic, probably more like one of those dreams where you're falling or when you miss a step. Let's admit it though, I had to get your attention somehow and if I'd started with; "It felt like I'd missed a stair." you probably wouldn't have read this far would you? 

Ok, I should probably explain a bit more. I'm Joe and I'm 38. 

Hello, nice to meet you. Thank you for joining me on this journey, even though you don't know where we're going yet and to be honest, I'm not sure I do either. 

You see, the thing is, I'm going to be a dad again. 

Congratulations? Why thank you, that really means a lot. I have a 15 year old son, Finn, from my first marriage who has lived with me since he was 8. My marriage broke down when he was 8 months old and his mum took him to live a couple of hundred miles away. I had him come to stay 1 week out of every 4 right up until he started school, then for school holidays until he decided he wanted to come and live with me permanently. All in all I think I got a pretty good deal for a single dad wouldn't you say? 

But how do I get from there to lightning bolts, missed stairs and being a dad again? I met Hanna 8 years ago thanks to a blind date set up by my first ever girlfriend. When I say girlfriend I mean we used to sit and do jigsaws together at play school and then stayed really close all through primary, only to become friends again properly years later. But she decided to set me up with her husband's cousin Hanna (Han for short), thinking we'd be a good match. Things weren't always plain sailing, we had a rocky time to start with and even went through a period where she didn't speak to me at all for 4 years. Eventually though we met up again and made friends, then fell for each other all over again (which was a bit of a surprise to both of us) and before we knew it here we are married, sitting in the waiting room at the hospital, 31 weeks into her first pregnancy with me writing this while she looks over my shoulder and occasionally giggles at my geekiness.  I can honestly say I've never been happier. 

Here she is, reading a pregnancy book called, "You Pee When You Sneeze" and trying to look all serious while ignoring me snapping pictures of her in a crowded waiting room. She says hi by the way. 

But back to our lightning bolt moment. Are you ready for some drama?

It was a dark, cold night. Outside,  the frost covered everything with a blanket of feathers as the arctic wind threatened to cut through any living creature unfortunate enough to be caught away from the shelter of home. Beside me Han lay sleeping softly, her breath a gentle purr as I lay dreaming. Suddenly a menacing voice slithered into my dream and whispered words that struck terror into my heart. As I sat bolt upright in bed, trembling with the sweat pouring from every inch of me those words that would change my life continued to echo through my brain ...

Ok, it wasn't quite that dramatic, but real life rarely is as exciting as in a book is it? You have to admit it sounded impressive though. 

In reality I was sitting on the sofa when the thought popped into my head and I had one of those moments of realisation that does give you a bit of a jolt. One short, simple sentence that is threatening to change my whole outlook and the way I live in the face of impending fatherhood. I suppose after all this build up you'd like to know what simple little thought could have such a drastic effect on a regular family man aren't you? It's simple really, sitting there contentedly heading towards 40 and looking forward to a new baby in the house, something really obvious snuck into my head to change it all. Five words (or four if you count numbers as one);

"You're not 23 anymore ..."