The history of Halloween has interested me since childhood. I have always loved stories of ghosts, haunted and spooky places. No horror, gore or violence - just the mystery, legends and general autumnal atmosphere and glorious colours associated with this season.
For some years, I portrayed an 18th century witch at an annual fun-filled, campy Halloween festival. Knitting, of course, had to be part of the act. I found large orange plastic needles (19mm/35 US) to whose ends I glued the decapitated heads of small plastic dolls. With their now messy hair and eyes that opened and closed, the dolls’ faces now took on a rather stunned and confused expression.
I then knit a scrappy piece, complete with holes and dropped stitches, out of Silver Berrrocco yarn which shimmered in the lantern and candle light. At the Halloween event, dressed in ragged 18th century clothing, I would ask the children if they liked my knitting. Some would say yes but when they said no, I informed them (in a suitably crackly voice) that I once knew two little girls who didn’t like my knitting but “I dealt with them!”, as I furiously knit, making the dolls’ heads move up and down and those eyes flutter all of the time. This would produce laughter, some of it nervous, from the children.
I am not, however, reprising the Halloween role this year so I decided to decorate a pointy black hat with the witch’s knitting, all sewn on with nylon invisible thread.
