In my last post, I wrote about texture. This time, I want to explore the skills I’ve learned over the years—and the habits I’ve gradually let go.
My mum taught me to knit and crochet when I was around nine years old. My dad still has the first wonky piece of knitting I made—later fashioned into an envelope for his cufflinks. It’s no surprise that I still hold my knitting needles the way my mum did, but my crochet style has evolved. As I got older, I came across a book that showed how to control yarn tension through the non-dominant hand, and the difference was immediate—my stitches became more even, more consistent.
A quick look at platforms like TikTok or YouTube shows just how many variations there are. Every crocheter holds their hook and yarn differently. What I’ve learned is that there’s no single “correct” way—only the way that works for you.
One lesson that stayed with me came from a Christmas project I took on rather ambitiously: a knitted twinset for my mother-in-law. It took an age to complete, but she loved it. A few days later, when we visited, she was wearing it—and it looked even better than I remembered. She had blocked it. I had never blocked anything before and hadn’t realised that something as simple as soaking and shaping could transform a finished piece so completely. That was a turning point: a small technique, but a lasting lesson.
During the pandemic lockdowns, I learned Tunisian crochet—partly from a book, but mostly by watching Toni Lipsey on YouTube. It’s a relatively accessible craft, especially if you already crochet, yet I often hear people say, “Oh, I don’t know how to do that,” as though that’s the end of the conversation. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s not to stop there. Curiosity is often more important than confidence.
Spinning was another step into the unfamiliar. I started with a drop spindle—an inexpensive way to begin—and again relied on books and videos. But there comes a point where guidance really matters, and for that I’m very grateful to Zoe at Old School Crafts Minting, who helped me build both skill and confidence, whether using a spindle or an Ashford Traveller wheel.
More recently, a visit to the Wonderwool Wales festival left me feeling inspired all over again. I’ve been curious about more freeform weaving for a while, and came home with an experimental kit for weaving on a circular ring. It’s far from perfect, but that’s part of the appeal. It’s also a satisfying way to use up shorter lengths of yarn that might otherwise sit forgotten.
Looking back, the most valuable thing I’ve learned is to be willing—to try, to experiment, and to accept that not everything has to be perfect, whether it’s your first attempt or your twentieth. I’ve learned that instructions are a starting point, not a set of rules, and that developing your own style takes time.
What I’m still learning—perhaps more slowly—is what to let go of: comparing my work to others, giving too much space to my inner critic, and starting new projects before finishing the ones already in progress.
“I don’t do this the way I used to…”—and that, I think, is the point.
Happy crafting
Sue
Pearson Handmade 