Jersey, pullover, cardigan many names for garments made of (originally) wool, and knitted or crocheted.
Although I hate winter and being cold – South African buildings are created in the weird belief that we have summer all year and that winter is a nasty piece of bad weather to be handled as an emergency disaster, I LOVE jerseys. Particularly hand knitted ones.
Unfortunately for someone with this liking, I cannot knit. It isn’t that I am totally useless with my hands; I can sew, embroider, quilt, and crochet. Somehow two needles, a dangly piece of knitting and a string of wool to manage is all just too much for me.
Therefore when I get the chance to have someone knit for me, making me something specially for me, pattern, wool, colour all chosen by me I am so happy.
Some (actually many) years ago I was waiting in the sandwich shop queue at lunchtime when I noticed a girl in the queue, wearing a jersey with an animal knitted into it. I had always wanted a fun jersey like that, but as it was my mother or grandmother who knitted for me, and as they would not ever have imagined such a thing desirable, I had never managed to get one.
A discussion, the exchange of a precious piece of paper, a phone call. Then some waiting and we met. I handing over money, she handing over the pullover. A street transaction at lunch time. Oh how I wish I could have afforded more of those.
Back home I happily took it out, and stared in delight. A lovely dark turquoise colour, exactly the right size. And there in the front a moose in black! With an eye looking at the world.
I wore it winter after winter, till it became so worn and matted that the moose was more like a bear.
I have never had, or really desired another like it.
I suspect we all have some childhood desire we need to live out in order to start growing up.