Aileen Cahill, knitter.
Everybody asks: Why would you knit a pair of socks when you can buy a pair in Penneys for €1? But if you had ever worn a pair of hand-knitted socks, you'd understand. They are perfectly fitted to your foot and so cosy and warm. I can knit a pair in about a week.
I usually knit going in and out on the bus every day. I've made about 20 pairs, not counting the ones I've given away. There's the "Irish Wellington" sock, which was initially for my dad, who is a part-time farmer and needed something to keep his toes toasty.
I learned to knit in primary school, like everyone else, and remember making a very holey dolly. But it was my mum who inspired me to start knitting again as an adult. She's particularly into textiles and crafts. I got back into it about five years ago, when I was a music undergraduate. I needed something to stop me practising too much. What really sucked me into it was the rhythm of it; you can get into a zone, and it is almost meditative. It's the perfect antidote to an afternoon's music practice.
I can knit when I'm watching telly, and if it's really mindless I can even knit while I'm reading. I started a blog about two years ago. My boyfriend bought me the domain name as a present. Aileen backwards is Neelia, and it was shortened to Neels, so Knitting Neels was born. I get a lot of ideas from other people's blogs and really good feedback from my own. It's a global community. Knitting is massive in the US, and I think it's brilliant.
When I knit on the bus other women always ask me about it. One older woman told me very forcefully that it was a dead craft and I should not be seen knitting.
It's hard to get nice wool in Dublin. I buy most of my wool out of This Is Knit, a shop in Blackrock, Co Dublin. I've a sister living in New Jersey, and I always bring an extra empty suitcase for the wool when I visit her.
There is a thing called second-sock syndrome, where you've knitted one sock and then you've found another pattern you prefer. I think I've got about three one-socks at the moment. Then there's sleeve island, which is the place you are where you just can't face knitting the second sleeve.
In conversation with Catherine Cleary.