Shiver me stitched timbers! Knit the City be findin’ themselves marooned at London’s Camden Crawl! What be there to do but yaaaaaaaaaarnstorm, we ask ye? Here be pirates. Here be blasted bilge mice. Here be wenches. Here be hoards of scurvy pirate butterflies. Here be what too much moonshine can do fer yer. The Bluestocking Stitcher’s Freddy Scurvy Danglin’ in t’ wind . Here be Freddy Scurvy. Freshly hung fer a life o’ crime on the high seas. He’d sell his toothless old grandma for a mug full o’ moonshine. I’d not buy her though. She smells like ole cabbage. ...Read More
The Yarn Corps were beginning to get very tired of sitting on the South Bank, and of having nothing to do.
They were considering (as well as they could, for the hot day made them feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of knitting something sneaky would be worth the trouble of getting up and finding the yarn, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by them.Read More
Something knitted this way comes:
Twas the Knit before Christmas in cold London Town,
Where a lone ballerina was cast with a frown…
Twas the Knit before Christmas in cold London Town, Where a lone ballerina was cast with a frown, Yet she was not long for her knitless despair, For Knit the City’s Yarn Corps soon would be there… See the full tale soon. Scary Stitchmas, London KTC...Read More
Come closer, mortals, we wish to tell you a tale of tube-flavoured terror… Knit the City have a special love for underground London. In our formative days each of us were beckoned into shady underground doorways by our mysterious hooded mentor. There we were relentlessly trained in ways of the yarnstorm while we spent our days and nights in Knit the City’s secret underground wool-lined bunker. Pay heed to the woolly warning of the Gate of Ghouls, good people of London. You never know what is looking up when you’re not looking down… For Halloween tales of...Read More