We’ve visited Hawes in North Yorkshire many times in the motorhome, but somehow there has always been one place I’ve never managed to properly explore — the Dales Countryside Museum.

The reason? Well, we usually have Jed, our GSD, with us, and unfortunately dogs and museums don’t always go together!

This time, though, my sister-in-law was with us, so I finally managed to escape for a couple of hours and have a good look around.

And I’m so glad I did.

The first thing that caught my eye was actually in the museum shop. There, on display, was a copy of Angharad Thomas’s book on knitted gloves.

Naturally, I had to take a peek!

But it was the display upstairs in the museum that really caught my attention.

Knitting was work, not just a hobby

The display explored how, through the centuries, hand-knitting provided a livelihood for thousands of people.

It was a fascinating reminder that knitting wasn’t simply something people did for pleasure or to fill a few quiet hours. For many families, it was an important source of income — or at least a way of bringing in some much-needed extra money.

Men, women and children all knitted stockings, caps and guernseys as part of their daily routine. And I particularly loved the fact that miners would knit on their way to work!

In fact, it was this part of the display that prompted my sister-in-law to turn to me and say:

“I didn’t know men knitted!”

Well, you can imagine my response!

Of course they did — and I was more than happy to put her straight. 😂

It’s easy to think of knitting as something traditionally associated with women, but the history tells a very different story. Knitting was a practical skill, and if you could knit, you could potentially earn money from it — whoever you were.

What really struck me was just how embedded knitting was in everyday life.

People knitted while travelling, while walking to work and alongside all the other things they had to do each day. It was a skill that could be fitted around life because, quite simply, life depended on it.

And I think that’s something worth remembering when we pick up our needles today.

For us, knitting might be a creative outlet, a way to relax, a social activity or simply something we love doing. But for previous generations, those same needles could help provide an income and support a family.

Standing in that museum and seeing the history brought to life made me look at our humble knitting needles in a slightly different way.

And, of course, I was delighted that my little visit also gave me the chance to spot Angharad’s book in the shop!

It just goes to show — even somewhere you’ve visited time and time again can still have something new to discover.

Have you visited the Dales Countryside Museum? And did you know that men were such an important part of the history of hand-knitting?

I’d love to hear what you think — especially if you have a story about knitting being passed down through your own family.

Happy knitting,

Sandra

One Colour, Two Opposites

My latest design "Hope Cove" in The Knitter has been styled as a layer over a very simple white top and skirt, and seeing it photographed like that got me thinking about colour and contrast. The knitted piece suddenly felt like the focus of the whole outfit — not because there was anything complicated going on, but because the simplicity around it allowed the colour and lace pattern of the knit to really stand out.

A knitted jumper in cobalt blue with black trousers feels very different from the same jumper with white trousers. The jumper hasn't changed. The colour hasn't changed. But somehow the whole outfit has.

That's the interesting bit.

Colour is never really seen on its own. It changes according to what you put beside it.

There's actually a name for this: simultaneous contrast. It's the idea that we don't see a colour in isolation — our perception of it is influenced by the colours surrounding it. Put the same colour against a light background and it can appear darker and more defined; put it against a dark background and it can appear lighter and more vivid. The colour hasn't actually changed, but our perception of it has.

Which explains something I find really useful when styling knitwear.

Put a strong colour against white and it feels lighter, cleaner and more open. Put the same colour against black and it gains weight and intensity.

The knit hasn't changed. The colour hasn't changed. The background has.

It's a useful thing to remember when getting dressed.

Take a strong-coloured knitted piece — a tomato red, grass green, cobalt blue, butter yellow, pink, orange — and put it with white.

Suddenly the colour feels clean and graphic. White gives it room. It almost acts like a blank sheet of paper around the colour, allowing you to see it properly.

Now put that same knit with black.

Everything becomes deeper. The colour feels richer and a little more dramatic. Black acts almost like a frame around it.

Neither is better. They're just saying different things.

And this is one reason I particularly like doing this with knitwear. A knitted piece already has so much going on in its surface: ribbing, cables, fuzz, loops, weight, softness. You don't necessarily need another colour or pattern to make the outfit interesting.

You can let the colour and texture do the work.

A bright red cardigan over a white shirt.

A green jumper with a pair of black trousers.

A lilac knit with white denim.

A saffron sweater over a black skirt.

The trick is not to keep adding.

When the colour is doing the talking, let the rest of the outfit whisper.

So, next time you have a favourite coloured knit sitting in your wardrobe, rather than asking what else you can add to it, try asking a different question:

What can I take away?

Try it with white.

Then try it with black.

Notice how differently the colour behaves.

Sometimes the best styling trick isn't finding another colour.

It's making sure you have included black and white garments in your capsule wardrobe!

Happy knitting & styling x

Sandra