From the desk of Roland Rocchiccioli – 12 June

A recent story about a renewed public interest in knitting patterns from times past set me to thinking about my childhood.

MY favourite jumper, which my mother, Beria, handknitted for me, was made from wool remnants. It was striped in every coloured imaginable, and apart from the band was in garter stitch. Also, she made me a sleeveless jumper which had, I seem to recall, a white top third in front, and the remaining body was bottle green. I was mortified when I discovered Beria had given away my striped jumper because she thought it no longer fitted me.

In Gwalia, where I lived as a child, both Mrs Quarti and Mrs Bendotti had knitting machines, and they were skilled practitioners.

Mrs Quarti, who knitted jumpers and dresses for her daughters Jan, Kay, and Jackie, was one of my favourite people in the town. Her husband, Doug, was the pay clerk on the Sons of Gwalia goldmine. The Quartis lived in a management house on the top of the hill which overlooked the mine. Their house was directly opposite the pool and had a huge mulberry tree in the backyard, the branches of which spread over part of the roof.

Jan, whom I have known from the moment she was born – we were together in the Lenora District Hospital maternity ward together – was my special friend. She and I would sit on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the side, talking, and eating the big, fat, sweet, juicy mulberries.

Jan had a range of jumpers. A red one had soldier buttons across the shoulder. Like many young girls, Jan had a mohair bolero – which were all the rage. She can’t remember, but thinks hers was blue.

Later, Mrs Quarti knitted by hand for her grandson, Anthony, and her work has survived the years.

Kay, their eldest daughter, had returned home from Methodist Ladies’ College in Claremont, having passed leaving standard music. She was my first piano teacher and agreed to teach me after I had been rejected by the Dominican sisters because Beria would not send me to the convent school. Mrs Quarti had knitted for Kay a superb white jumper with an enormous cowl. It was quite a creation!

Years later, as an adult, I told Mrs Quarti I lived in the hope she would knit a jumper for me. When I mentioned my almost-forgotten childhood yearning she wondered I did not ask her. “Of course I would have made you one,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me, you silly boy?” To my lasting regret, she was pained by my juvenile disappointment.

On the other hand, Mrs Bendotti, who was an exquisite dressmaker, imported an Italian knitting machine. She made and sold jumpers to the ladies in the town – mostly Italian. Unlike the average Australian knitting machines, this one did double-sided knitting, and was a novelty. Using imported Italian wool, the stylish jumpers lasted forever.

My sister knitted by hand and did the most beautiful work. Married to a railway fettler, she lived out on the Nullarbor. He and the gang were out on the line from Sunday to Friday, so she spent the cold winter nights alone, sitting in front of the wood fire, knitting for her six children. Later in life she knitted dozens of jumpers for various of the children’s charities.

I learned to knit when I was about six, or seven. This winter, I am planning to knit myself a boatneck jumper, using stocking and moss stitches!

Roland can contacted, and sent knitting patterns, via [email protected].