Wendyl Nissen: How to lose your bottle

Concentration is key when knitting. That rules out wine. Photo / Thinkstock

Everyone I know is giving up drinking this month and coming to me for help. I did it last year and managed to get through it with only one slip-up, so naturally they are queuing up for advice.

"What do you drink instead?" they ask, shaking in their blessed boots.

"Brandy essence and ginger ale," I respond.

"How do you relax without alcohol at the end of the day?" they whisper.

"Swims, long walks, gardening. Keep yourself active in that peak 5 to 7 time in the evening," I reply with authority.

"What do you do with your hands when you can't hold a glass?" they ask.

"Knit," is all I need to say.

It has been the summer of knitting for me and, as anyone who has taken up the needles knows, you can't drink and knit at the same time.

Instead of a knit one purl one, you will find yourself knitting three, purling five and inventing a whole new stitch while you're at it.

And if you do try to have a glass of wine at the same time, it sits there untouched for hours as you just finish off the next row and the 25 rows after that.

I recently spent several nights in the caravan alone knitting and listening to National Radio. I listened as a blind man travelled through India recording his exciting adventures. T

hese mainly involved disgusting smells on streets and walking into cows, during which I knitted three washcloths in green, blue and brown and two dishcloths in blue and grey tones.

I have become such an enthusiastic knitter that I have raided op shops and bought hundreds of old knitting needles to ensure that I will never be caught out with the wrong size. (They were a bargain, too; metal needles attract a slightly higher premium than plastic at 50c a pair compared to 40c.)

I've bought a suitcase full of wool from Trade Me and pounced upon a box-full of someone's old patterns. The previous owner was a keen sock-knitter and preferred cardigans over jumpers.

My husband bought me The Complete Home Knitting Illustrated, which was printed during World War II and was once owned by an L.G. Hutton who signed her name to it on August 16, 1949.

"Thought you might need a bit of help," he said as he presented it to me.

I opened the front cover and read the foreword: "The phrase 'well dressed' has taken on a new meaning. It means being simply and economically, yet charmingly dressed in spite of restrictions. You must think hard before you expend the family's coupons or you'll find gaps in their wardrobe. Nearly every garment can be made from a minimum of yarn with two needles and look as though it had been cut out of fabric by a master tailor."

I looked at the baby singlet I was attempting to finish for our new granddaughter Emmie.

A friend had bought me the two-ply wool in the South Island, complete with a pattern, and I didn't have the heart to say I wasn't quite up to the challenge.

"You seem to have reached an impasse," he commented before attempting to pour me a drink.

"Are you kidding? I've got to do two sleeves tonight!"

He had been unable to get me to drink for weeks.

"Just one glass won't hurt," he cajoled.

"Are you kidding? I had to unpick three rows last time I had a glass of wine."

I have yet to finish the baby singlet because I became distracted by some of the knitting patterns in my new book, including the lace rib cami knickers, the gauntlet gloves and the larger-size cardigan for the older woman. My husband was particularly taken with the helmet with ear flaps, which had the fetching caption: "Believe it or not, he can keep his head warm and hear at the same time when he's on duty."

"What a good idea," he said. "It has adjustable ear flaps so that you can get your ears free."

"When you're on duty," I said. "In the war, guarding our coasts from the Japanese invaders."

"If you felt like knitting me one I'd be very grateful," he said, before pouring himself another glass of wine. "But first, if you wouldn't mind finishing that baby singlet for our newborn granddaughter before she starts school."

And that was it. Unlike everyone I know, I've started drinking in February.