By: Blonde Two

It is a by now well documented fact that the Two Blondes have, on some of their wetter Dartmoor walks, considered other, maybe more suitable hobbies.  One of these that keeps poking at us is knitting.  One day, I am going to surprise Blonde One and produce my knitting needles from my rucksack when we are huddled in a storm shelter at Hangingstone Hill or some other such god-forsaken place.  If the teams are very late and there are enough sheep nearby, I could maybe knit a big enough square to make our squat (both meanings of the word here) more comfortable.  This would, of course, mean that we would have to adjust our Blonde understanding of the concept of “blanket bog”.

My mum is a particularly prolific knitter and has recently produced some rather impressive Dartmoor/Christmas based offerings.  The first was my Christmas stocking, she had knitted one for each of us (we are a big family) but mine was undoubtedly the best because it had a Blonde on each side.  This stocking was far too important to open in a Malvern lounge so Blonde One and I took it up to sit on the Dartmoor Christmas tree for a while before I did the deed.  You can decide for yourselves which Blonde is which but we are sure that we have got it right!


The second (and most amusing) knitted Dartmoor offering was this lovely angel (you might note her Blonde hair).  She started life, not as a cherubim or seraphim but as a knitted boob warmer (quickly converted to ?angelhood? when she proved to be much too capacious).  Mum, concerned about the chilly situation that my frontage keeps finding itself in has been trying to find a home-made solution.  This, I feel shows, not only true maternal love, but a tendency towards madness that I have clearly (proudly) inherited.