Tag Archives: lessons

Stab him, Strangle him, Push him off the Cliff OR A Lesson in Knitting

Mum made most of our clothes when we were younger. I think originally because it was cheaper, more economical – but also because it was the thing to do back then. Now – it is kitsch to make your own clothes. Not neccesity anymore, sadly.

She would also knit us jumpers and things. I mainly remember her knitting for babies though – and I vaguely remember her attempting some socks for Dad. I never did see the finished product though, so I’m not sure what happened there. Did she finish them? Did Dad not like them? Or did she not make it to the end?

When I was about 8 or 9, we had been doing ‘french knitting’ at school – you know, where you have the toilet roll cardboard tube with paddle pop sticks around the top and you ‘knit’ great long columns of wool. At the same time, Mum was knitting something too. Her needles clicking away on the couch. I remember sitting next to her with my ‘knitting’ and wanting to be like her.

She offered to teach me her knitting. I jumped at the chance to learn grown-up knitting.

She got some needles and some wool, cast on a few stitches and worked a few rows for me. And then the lesson began.

“This is how my Mum taught me. First – you stab him.” She put the needle through the first loop. “Then you strangle him.” She wrapped the wool around her needle. “Then you push him off the cliff.” And she moved the loop off the needle – having just knitted one stitch.

I still now mouth these words while knitting: stab him, strangle him, push him off the cliff; stab him, strangle him, push him off the cliff. It has a nice rhythm to it, don’t you think?

Mum wasn’t always conventional in her lessons. Bless her.

When You Think You Can’t Open A Jar Yourself

You can.

Run it under the hot tap for a minute. Put a rubber band around the lid. Whack it a few times with a knife around the edge and break the seal.

But it is always a good thing to occasionally ask a man to help, as Mum would tell us.

I needed to do this the other night – I was flying home from a work trip interstate and asked for a wine from the drink trolley. I then struggled to open the damn thing. So I had to, reluctantly, ask the man next to me to open it for me. He beamed, and I think he felt a little needed at that point.

Maybe Mum is right. We really do need to occasionally ask a man to help. My experience on the plane also explains why the next line of this lesson was always: ‘it makes them feel better, love’.

How to cook an Omelette and Scrambled Eggs in One

Mum commenced the lesson with the aim of showing me how to cook an omelette. She broke eggs in a bowl (roughly 2 per person) and then added a dash of milk, and salt and pepper. In a separate bowl, she chopped up some ham, spring onions and some tomato.

Into the frypan went a knob of butter, then the egg mixture.

“Now, you just let that cook for a bit. Then you add the filling – in this case, we’re adding ham and tomato to our omelette. So we pop that in now – just on one side. And now we pick up this side, like this, and then we flip it over… ohh damn… Hmmm… Ok. Got that? Now I’ll show you how to make scrambled eggs as well. You just mix everything in and scrape from the middle… See? Two lessons in one. Now, run and tell your father we’re having scrambled eggs tonight.”

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