Hand me downs

The day before yesterday Martha arrived back from a couple of nights at my parents with my old doll's pram, and a doll my Grandma once gave me, with an outfit she had knitted for him.

There's something very poignant about a hand knitted item which was made by someone who is now long dead. I think about that poignancy a lot as my other Grandmother - Gran - was a prolific knitter and my girls now wear some of the many cardigans she knitted for me and my sister

I may be a sentimental fool, but I like to think a little of their love for me is in each stitch, and that love is being passed on down the generations when Martha and Greta wear or play with things they made.

I only know my mother's father through things he made, as he died long before I was born, but I feel I know him well, and Martha knows about him too, as she grows up with his work on her living room wall.

And when she spins around in a princess outfit made by my Mum, looking rather a lot like the lady in the poster painted by my Grandad,

I like to think that the things I make will live for longer than me, so that even if my creations never reach a wider audience than my family they will still let my great grandchildren understand a little about me and my world.