When I first went to high school, I'd like to think I was pretty cluey about my studies. I loved to read, I loved to write and I enjoyed learning about things I was interested in, particularly anything to do with history. But when it came to anything practical, I was a little like Hermione Granger without a spellbook: nervous, antsy and paranoid. Unlike dear Hermione though, who eventually managed to be brilliant in all areas, I really WAS hopeless. Cooking class? Oh dear. Woodwork class? Ha! Metalwork class? Don't even get me started on that one.

If there was one thing I learned from my seventh grade Textiles class (that we were forced to take, I might add) it was that I have the skill of a toddler when it comes to anything needlework. I remember one of our assessment items was to create a pencilcase out of fabric, the fussiest part being attaching the zipper using a sewing machine. It was fairly simple to most of my classmates, even those who hadn't sewn before. But to my horror and embarrassment, I was completely awful at it. I don't even remember what the final product looked like, but you can bet that it was a shocker. Am sure that my Textiles teacher graded me with much amusement.

I simply cannot sew. Or knit. Or even hold a needle and thread properly.

Most people think I'm exaggerating when I say I can't do these things. Haven't I ever stitched a button on a coat before? The answer is yes, however it wasn't done very well. I could barely even thread a sewing needle, and my idea of stitching on a button was to just keep looping the thread through the holes enough to make sure it wouldn't fall off again anytime soon. As for knitting? Let's just say I won't be creating any woolen masterpieces any time soon.

Since my grandma has been staying up here for the weekend after a short stint in hospital, I decided to make use of her domestic skills and have her teach me how to knit. Unlike her clutzy granddaughter, nanna is a whiz with needles. I'm sad I didn't get those genes from her and am hoping they will be passed down to the next generation of kids in our family, should I ever have them. I'd hate for them to be stuck with me trying to teach them, poor things.

Having agreed to help out, I got my trusty "learn to knit" kit out and joined her on the lounge. My first knitting project was to knit a scarf some kids booties a fancy jumper a really tiny square. That's it. A puny little square, nothing fancy. 'Pah!' I says to myself. 'A square! I can do that. No worries.'

Nan proceeded to give me a walk through of how to cast on to the needle and where to go next. She did that again. And again. And a few times more, after watching me stare blankly at the knitting needles. Eventually I moved on to doing some myself, but because I am a fussy wee thing, I'd unravel it all and start over if it got messy. And let's face it, it got messy fairly quickly. And that was only with 12 stitches!

After ditching my attempts for a few hours, I brought out the needles again to settle in for a night of keeping my grandma company. I figured it would be nice and companionable; me knitting my square (!), nan doing some crochet work, and the television blaring away in the background. It didn't quite turn out that way though. Replace the companionable silence with exclamations like 'Bugger!', 'Crap! I lost it again!', 'Bloody wool!' and 'Nan ... help!' and you'd have a fairly good idea of what was going on in my lounge room. Good times were had by all.

I do have a nice mini square now, though it isn't exactly symmetrical. It's also a little frayed at the edges, due to my frequent habit of ripping it all off and starting again. But you know what? It's a square all the same. A square that I knitted, all mostly by myself. If only my Textiles teacher could see me now . . .