Can I See Some ID, Please?

Feb 7, 2010

I started seeing a traditional Tibetan doctor who is giving me various potions that are supposed to stimulate my wind element and get me back on the road to good health. My GP rolls her eyes at such things and says in a condescending tone, “Well, if it makes you feel better, then that’s fine, I suppose.”

I do find it incredible that we in the West look at cultures that have been studying medicine for five thousand years as weirdo quacks, and somehow have the utmost faith in our own system in which doctors have become shills for the pharmaceutical industry and all too often they scratch their heads with dismay when something doesn’t fit into their round-peg world, even when it means saying oh, so sincerely, “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.”

All of that mini-rant was to say that I was feeling sassy enough yesterday to go to a store. That’s right! I left the house and walked around a shop. (Wonders have not yet ceased, it seems.)

Of course my shop of choice sold various bits and bobs for knitting. Those of you who know me will know that I run hot and cold, and when I dig into something of interest, it consumes my every thought. And if adorable mouses and elves are the result, then all the better. (Yes, I’ve started designing whimsical elves to knit!)

Anyway, so when I got my goodies home, I noticed on the packaging for needles, there was a sticker (as you can see in the thumbnail above.) It says, “Are you old enough?” with a line through the number 25. Yes, that means what you think it means. You cannot buy knitting needles in this country if you are under 25.

What. The. Fuck.

Okay, I know knife crime is a big concern, especially for young people. Guns are illegal in Scotland, so instead people tend to fillet one another. But knitting needles? Really?

I, for one, would love to see what would happen to the street cred of a hoodie who pulled out some 4mm double-pointed needles in a rammy. I suppose this is a natural add-on to those arguments which are known as “handbags at 20 paces”. (One of my favourite local expressions, by the way.)

So, in this country you can get married at 16, drive at 17, drink alchohol at 18, but you have to be 25 to knit.

Don’t mess with me! I have bamboo clackers and I know how to use them! Purl your way out of that!