Lesson Three: I Mean What the Hell.

Grandma was quite frazzled when I arrived this week. Like almost-forgot-to-put-the-ice-cubes-in-the-wine frazzled.

She had had quite a week with mechanic troubles. A flat tyre on one occasion, a flat battery on another. The flat tyre story amused me.

Grandma had begrudgingly taken on the task of returning the keys of the public hall to their owner after her craft group finished up. The other women had apparently rested on their walking frames looking less than motivated.

So, in a bit of a tizz already, Grandma arrived to the drop-off point, dropped the keys in the appropriate letterbox (it all sounds rather suss to me but we won’t go into that), and returned to her car realising that one of her tyres was completely flat. Therefore, in a situation horrifying to any Gen Y kid, Grandma was faced with the difficult task of needing to call RAC. Without a phone.

Naturally (and to my personal horror), she began knocking on doors, at first to no avail. When two rather large burly men finally answered their door, Grandma thought to herself, perhaps this was not a good choice.

Fortunately, Grandma lived to knit another day, the men called RAC for her and she happily crocheted in the car waiting for them. When they did come, and Grandma enquired about her flat tyre, they showed her a rather large slash that had been carved into it. Now, I don’t know what kind of world this is where some punk is able to slash the tyres of my sweet old Grandma in her parking bay in a Primary School car park, but hear this, hoodlum: I HAVE EYES ON THE STREETS.

More than likely however, is that Grandma has ticked off one or other of the Craft Ladies; a Lady of the Craft if you will, with some edgy needlework moves that made her blood boil and caused her to summon all her strength in a mighty act of vendetta. Perhaps Grandma voiced her opinions on those that clearly need walking aides but refuse to use them. This really grinds Grandma’s gears. As she said to me this week in regards to these unsteady fakers; “I mean what the hell!”


So eventually we began knitting, but I daresay we did not get much done this week with all of the excitement. Grandma had found the pattern for the ‘Diana’ but when I asked where, I was promptly requested not to ask. It appears that we have not botched up the job too badly, and were able to carry on from where we left off, but have started increasing stitches. With so little done, Grandma has kept the knitting for this week to do a bit of a catch up. She has assured me that this isn’t cheating as she has shown me how to do everything that she’s going to carry on doing, just that it will get done a bit quicker. Reader, DON’T YOU JUDGE ME. I only did it for Grandma and her impatient nimble fingers.

Therefore, Grandma’s keeping of the project means I have no photos of it this week. Instead I’ve put up three cross stitch pieces that Grandma made for me and presented me with this week. I’m kind of in awe of them and their intricacy. Cross stitch is definitely on the craft ‘to do’ list. Though I did give it a good go when I was a kid and seem to remember being pretty terrible at it.


Cross Stitch: "Kings Street East Fremantle"

Cross Stitch: "George Street Mews, East Fremantle"

Cross Stitch: "Knocknagow, East Fremantle"