Each weekday morning I catch a train from the southeastern suburbs of Melbourne to Parliament Station in the CBD, close to my place of employment within the Victorian State Government. This is constant.
Each morning for the duration of my trip, I knit. This too is constant.
There are several other consistencies in my day, like what I eat for breakfast, or where in Little Collins Street I stop to buy my $3 large, weak, flat white coffee, but the most important thing is the knitting.
I’m not a particularly talented knitter, but I like to knit scarves and shawls (I’ve not yet joined the sock-knitting army) and I’ve made a couple of very simple garments. It is the act of knitting that I love, not necessarily the product, although I’ve always a great stock of scarves and shawls on hand for gifts and extreme cold weather.
The train journeys I experience each morning and evening in themselves are extraordinary. Not because of the destination – although going home is always a plus – it’s the people and events on the trains which never cease to keep me entertained AND the interest shown in my knitting.