2024 Fashion On The Ration Challenge

Nelliegrace

I bought 300g of knitting cotton for from a large discount store. Does it count as salvaged? Was dishcloth cotton rationed? We learned to knit with it in the Infant class, 4-7 year olds, taking home a very uneven, holey dishcloth. 


Mum said that Welsh knitting wool was never rationed as it was harsh and not thought fit for anything. I used some in a striped crochet blanket of the sort my Granny used to make for an extra layer of warmth on the bed. She told me that she re-used the wool from Dad’s outgrown knitted socks and jumpers. The unpicked wool was wound round a glass milk bottle, wetted, and allowed to dry, to get the kinks from the stitches out. 

Laura_Elsewhere

Nelliegrace said:

I bought 300g of knitting cotton for from a large discount store. Does it count as salvaged? Was dishcloth cotton rationed? We learned to knit with it in the Infant class, 4-7 year olds, taking home a very uneven, holey dishcloth. 


Mum said that Welsh knitting wool was never rationed as it was harsh and not thought fit for anything. I used some in a striped crochet blanket of the sort my Granny used to make, she taught me to crochet. She told me that she re-used the wool from Dad’s outgrown knitted socks and jumpers. The unpicked wool was wound round a glass milk bottle, wetted, and allowed to dry, to get the kinks from the stitches out. 

The notes on p.1 say it's one coupon for "2 ounces of wool knitting yarn equals 50g of any knitting yarn" so I fear that's six coupons! It's brand-new, and not bought from a second-hand supplier eg eBay seller, so not sure it can really be counted as salvage... @PipneyJane, have I understood that right? 

Yes, I think people did anything and everything to reuse materials! There are fascinating instructions for how to turn a man's wool overcoat into a coat for a little girl or knickerbockers for a little boy, all kinds of things! I suspect if a jumper was so worn or felted that it couldn't be unpicked, it would be hot-washed to felt it further and use it as a cleaning cloth. Only when it was too ragged for floor-cleaning would it finally go to the salvage teams who collected scrap metal, textile rags, paper even in the tiniest scraps... we think we recycle nowadays but not a patch on then! 

Sarahspangles

Nelliegrace said:

She told me that she re-used the wool from Dad’s outgrown knitted socks and jumpers. The unpicked wool was wound round a glass milk bottle, wetted, and allowed to dry, to get the kinks from the stitches out. 

I’ve just ‘frogged’ a knitting project because it wasn’t right. The wool yarn had got very kinky in the few days it had been a ribbed neckband. I wound it round a wire airer, tied into hanks and dunked it in wool wash then rewound it when it had dried. It’s re-knitting nicely.  It’s been a ‘therapeutic’ knit as I’m recovering from Covid , followed by a chest infection.

I remember those cotton dishcloths, we were set to knit them for grandparents - my mother wouldn’t have dreamt of using them! But people make really pretty things with cotton now.

PipneyJane

Greetings from Free France.  Yesterday, we went to Carentan, to view the exhibition, The Longest Yarn, based on events surrounding D-Day and the film The Longest Day. If you haven’t heard about it, it’s the work of a group of knitters and crocheters, who decided to commemorate the 80th anniversary of D Day by making something special.  The workmanship that went into it is amazing.  



My mum would have loved this, and not just because she was a knitter and crocheter.  She was a photo-interpreter in the WAAAF.

Every one of the 80 panels was on a black cloth edged with crochet and decorated with poppies.   The lovely, French lady volunteer explained the colours:  red for the British, white for the Dutch and blue for the French.  Since I made an in-person donation, to help fund them taking the exhibition on tour to the UK* and to America, I was given a red, white and blue poppy as a thank you.



The above is the last panel, The Helmet.  So poignant. 

I left with tears in my eyes.

- Pip




* Southwell in Nottinghamshire will be hosting it later this year.

Cherryfudge

What amazing, extraordinary work, @PipneyJane! Vive la résistance!

Laura_Elsewhere

@PipneyJane - Gosh, that is moving... 

PipneyJane

Sadly, @Nelliegrace, the cotton does not count as salvage.  It’s 6 coupons-worth, so use it well.  (Yes, @Laura_Elsewhere , you did read it right.)

Laura_Elsewhere said:

@PipneyJane - Gosh, that is moving... 

The whole story behind the Exhibition is moving.  It started with a local mayor asking a knitter to billet an elderly veteran for the 60th anniversary of D-Day in 2004.  They became friends and every year he’d return to honour his fallen comrades.  After he died - and with the 80th anniversary fast approaching - she thought “What can I do to honour them now?”.  The Longest Yarn is the result.

On all my early visits to Normandy, I encountered veterans paying their respects.  Back in 2011, I went to lay flowers on the grave of the great uncle of one of the knitting bloggers I knew.  This was in the American cemetery at Omaha Beach.  While we were there, we witnessed a small party of elderly veterans and their wives laying a wreath at the memorial.  They were crying.

- Pip

Laura_Elsewhere

@PipneyJane, I knew a London policeman who was called to a burglary- a tiny one-room 'flat' with very few possessions and those very worn, and an old, old man who was distraught because what had been taken was his Second World War medals. 
My friend was very moved, and upset, and every so often if he was in the area, he would drop in to see how the old man was doing, and they became friends. Eventually, it turned out the old soldier missed his old card-playing pals, and so my friend rounded up a couple of other coppers and they started having a cards-night every so often, and of course they always brought more snacks and nibbles than they ate and left them behind... 
One year, they drove the old soldier over to France, his first return, and they found the grave of his closest friend, who had died in his arms, and he had never forgiven himself for being unable to save him. 
After several years of growing friendship, the old soldier died, and left everything to my friend- that was almost literally nothing at all. But he sold the possessions and then put the money aside, and the three card-playing friends all travelled that November to France where they went back to the grave, waited til nobody was around and quietly scattered the old soldier's ashes around his friend's grave. Then they opened the bottle of Scotch, and poured out four nips, one for each of them, and one for the old soldier, which they respectfully tipped onto his friend's grave-earth.

They never were able to get his medals back for him, but I think the friendship of those card-playing coppers in his last years was possibly more important to him. 

I was very fortunate and had a very special visit to the Somme area, including the Commonwealth War Graves cemeteries and the monument at Thiepval to the missing. I have never forgotten, could never forget. 

alicef

@PipneyJane - so very, very poignant.  

My FIL served in India at the tail end of the war - I think he fibbed about his age to join up.  When he retired he would visit a blind gentleman who served in the one of the antecedent regiments of the Rifles who landed on D Day and then fought across France.  My mother and aunt were children in the 40s and experienced the Blitz and evacuation; I don't remember either talking about the war.  So few left now.

PipneyJane

Laura_Elsewhere said:

@PipneyJane, I knew a London policeman who was called to a burglary- a tiny one-room 'flat' with very few possessions and those very worn, and an old, old man who was distraught because what had been taken was his Second World War medals. 
My friend was very moved, and upset, and every so often if he was in the area, he would drop in to see how the old man was doing, and they became friends. Eventually, it turned out the old soldier missed his old card-playing pals, and so my friend rounded up a couple of other coppers and they started having a cards-night every so often, and of course they always brought more snacks and nibbles than they ate and left them behind... 
One year, they drove the old soldier over to France, his first return, and they found the grave of his closest friend, who had died in his arms, and he had never forgiven himself for being unable to save him. 
After several years of growing friendship, the old soldier died, and left everything to my friend- that was almost literally nothing at all. But he sold the possessions and then put the money aside, and the three card-playing friends all travelled that November to France where they went back to the grave, waited til nobody was around and quietly scattered the old soldier's ashes around his friend's grave. Then they opened the bottle of Scotch, and poured out four nips, one for each of them, and one for the old soldier, which they respectfully tipped onto his friend's grave-earth.

They never were able to get his medals back for him, but I think the friendship of those card-playing coppers in his last years was possibly more important to him. 

I was very fortunate and had a very special visit to the Somme area, including the Commonwealth War Graves cemeteries and the monument at Thiepval to the missing. I have never forgotten, could never forget. 

@Laura_Elsewhere - I’m crying.  That is such a touching story.  You get “it”.  Big hugs.  

That’s what I love about this thread - most of the participants do get “it”.

- Pip