One year, when we were small, me and my sister asked our Grandma to knit us some jumpers. In a twist to the Christmas tradition whereby knitted goods are given without request, we actually put in an order for these sweaters. I specifically asked for Goofy on a powder blue background, Ceara who was less sure of who should emblazon her chest (being five at the time) could only stipulate she wanted something similar but not the same. What she ended up with was a large, orange Sooty on a baby pink background.
Needless to say, God love her and bless her heart, Grandma's jumpers did not come out quite as the cartoon replicas we'd imagined. The colour combination of orange and pink on Ceara's was a step beyond cheery, toward eye-wateringly painful. But, being barely out of infancy she carried it off with aplomb. At least Sooty was recognisible. My request on the other hand was not so successful. Perhaps because I had been more specific about my needs, it posed much more of a challenge. It seemed G had had difficulty finding a pattern that fitted the brief and apparently went ad-hoc on the mission. The result was as though Goofy had first been constructed from Lego blocks and this new interpretation was the basis of the design. Being of a tender age and having just started wearing glasses, I was real keen not to stand out at school as a further target for bullying, so, with regret, the jumper didn't get a great deal of wear outside the house.
Although in real terms neither one of these garments were a particularly good look, they were bought haphazardly into the world with a great deal of love, and for this reason alone I wish we still had them. With this thought in mind, the penultimate days of advent are dedicated to Christmas jumpers, specifically of the homemade variety, long may they continue to bring wonder, bewilderment and ultimately delight to Christmas days across the globe-or wherever there's weather cold enough to merit them.
