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Right, you wanna talk about knitting floor mats. Or crochet, whatever. Folks call it all knitting sometimes, don’t they? Old habits. And “105 best patterns,” eh? A hundred and five. Who sits around counting these things, I wonder? Like someone said, “we need more, keep going, we’re almost at a gross of patterns here.” It’s a number, that’s what it is. It means there’s a stack of ’em. Good. People like options, sure. But 105? Blimey. Enough to make your head spin, it is.
Years I’ve been doing this, you see. Watching what catches fire, what just fizzles out like a damp sparkler. And these mats? They’re sticky. Always have been. People like something real under their feet. Something they made, or someone they know made. Not some flimsy thing churned out by the thousand in a factory somewhere across the water. You walk into a kitchen, see a proper hand-knitted mat, and you know there’s a bit of soul in that place. That’s the real story, ain’t it? Not the algorithms or the clicks. It’s the feeling.
Why Bother With Yarn Scraps When You Could Be Watching Telly?
Look, some might say, “Why spend hours twisting yarn when you can just buy one down at the big box store for a tenner?” And you know what? That’s fair. For some folks, time is money and all that jazz. But for others, it’s not about the money, not entirely. It’s the quiet. The rhythm. The feeling of the yarn sliding through your fingers. It’s a proper escape, it is. A bit of peace in a world that’s gone absolutely mad, if you ask me. Phones pinging, news shouting, another bloody politician talking out of both sides of their mouth. You pick up those needles, or that hook, and the world just quiets down. It’s good for the old grey matter, gets the hands busy. Keeps you out of trouble, mostly.
I remember my gran, she was always making something. Coasters, little bits of lace, blankets. Never stopped. Said it kept the rheumatics at bay, or some such thing. And when you look at these mats, you see that. It’s not just a thing to wipe your feet on. It’s a piece of someone’s time. A bit of their quiet contemplation woven right in. You can’t buy that, can you? Not really. Even if you could find 105 patterns for sale online. What kind of person needs 105 different patterns, anyway? Are they trying to cover every square inch of their house with a different mat? Sounds a bit much. A person probably finds one or two they like, then stick with ’em.
The Yarn Dilemma: A Right Faff, This Can Be
Now, about the yarn. This is where people get tripped up. Folks think they gotta go out and buy fancy, expensive stuff. And yeah, you can. There’s some gorgeous stuff out there, merino wool and all that. Soft as a baby’s bottom. But for a floor mat? Something that’s gonna get stepped on, get wet, get dirty? Are you kidding me? You want hard-wearing. You want cheap. That’s the ticket.
That’s why all the talk about “rag rugs” never really died, did it? Cutting up old t-shirts, worn-out bed sheets. That’s proper thrifty, that is. And it gives ’em character. You got a faded old band t-shirt, chuck it in. Got some jeans that are just about done? Cut ’em up. It’s practical. It’s sensible. And you’re not adding more to the landfill, which is a bonus, I suppose, if you’re into that sort of thing. I mean, some people get all evangelical about recycling. I just think it’s smart. Why throw good material away when you can turn it into something useful? Makes sense, don’t it?
The real trick is getting the right thickness. You don’t want it too flimsy, otherwise it just curls up on itself like a scared cat. And you don’t want it so thick it’s like stepping on a blooming trampoline. Somewhere in the middle. That’s the sweet spot. And believe me, it takes a bit of trial and error. Nobody gets it perfect first go. That’s just life, innit?
What The Heck Is A “Scheme” Anyway? And 105 Of Them?
“Схем для” – patterns, right? It’s funny how these things translate. A “scheme.” Sounds a bit like something shady you cook up in a back alley. “Got a new mat scheme, guv’nor. Only costs an arm and a leg for the yarn.” Nah, it just means the blueprint. The instructions. And there are indeed, as they say, plenty of those kicking about.
From simple rectangles that a bairn could manage, if they had the patience, to elaborate circles and ovals. Some folks get proper fancy, don’t they? Make ’em look like mandalas, or big blooming flowers. Me? I like a practical mat. Something that stays put and doesn’t try to be a blooming art installation. But hey, if you’ve got the time and the inclination for a mat that looks like a stained-glass window, more power to ya. Each to their own, I always say.
You’ll find some that are just rows and rows of single crochet. Dead easy. Good for beginners. Then there are some that use multiple colors, or different stitches to create texture. Like those bobble stitches. Make the mat feel all bumpy underfoot. Some people love that. Others find it a bit odd, like walking on a bag of marbles. It’s a taste thing. What feels good to you? That’s what matters. You’re the one who’s gonna be walking on the thing, after all. Or standing on it while you’re washing up, getting that ache in your back.
Can a beginner actually make one of these? Seriously?
Yeah, course they can. Anyone can. If you can hold a hook or a couple of needles, you can make a mat. Now, it might not be a masterpiece first time out. Might be a bit wonky. A bit lopsided. But that’s its charm, see? That’s what makes it human. A machine makes everything perfect. Too perfect sometimes, if you ask me. Give me a bit of character any day. A mat with a story. A mat that says, “Yeah, I might have dropped a stitch there, but I kept going, didn’t I?” That’s the spirit.
People sometimes ask, “What about that tricky bit where you join the rounds? Does it show?” Well, it depends on the pattern, doesn’t it? Some patterns are designed to hide it. Others, you just gotta accept it as part of the deal. Like a scar. It tells a tale. And honestly, who’s gonna be down on their hands and knees inspecting your mat for flaws? Unless you’ve got some very particular guests. And if you do, maybe you need to rethink your guest list, eh?
The Great Pattern Hunt: Where Do These 105 Things Live?
So, 105 patterns. Where do you find such a bounty? The internet, naturally. Forums. Pinterest. YouTube. All over the shop. Some are free, some you gotta pay a few quid for. And that’s fair enough. Someone put the effort in to design it, write it down, probably test it out. Their time’s worth something. Don’t be a cheapskate. If you find a pattern you love, and it only costs a couple of quid, just buy it. Support the artist, as they say. Even if that “artist” is just some granny in her spare room designing mats. They deserve a bit of recognition.
And they’ll be in all sorts of languages. You’ll find some in Russian, obviously, given the way we started this chat. And Japanese. And German. Doesn’t matter. The diagrams, the charts, they’re usually universal. Once you get the hang of reading a crochet chart, you’re laughing. It’s like learning a secret code, it is. All those little symbols. X for single crochet, T for half double. Before you know it, you’re fluent. And then suddenly, those 105 patterns don’t seem so daunting. They’re just… opportunities.
Do I need special tools for these things?
Not really, no. A hook. Or needles. A pair of scissors. That’s about it. Maybe a darning needle to weave in the ends. And a cuppa tea. That’s probably the most important tool, really. Keeps the hands warm, the mind clear. A bit of comfort. It’s not like building a spaceship, is it? It’s just making a bit of warmth for your floor. Simple. Effective. Satisfying.
And people worry about the size. “How big should my mat be?” Well, how big do you want it? Measure the spot where it’s going. Simple as that. You want one for the front door? Make it big enough for a couple of feet. By the sink? Something to catch the drips. For the dog’s bed? Big enough for the hound to stretch out. There’s no magic number. It’s what works for you. And if it’s a bit too big or a bit too small, well, that’s what makes it yours, isn’t it? It’s not some mass-produced thing that fits “average” sizes. Average is boring.
The Joys, And Mild Annoyances, Of Homemade Mats
There’s a real satisfaction, you know, seeing something you made, something useful, just sitting there. Doing its job. Taking the brunt of muddy boots, or splashes from the sink. It’s a bit of home, that is. A bit of comfort. And when it gets too mucky, you just chuck it in the wash. Most of them wash up pretty good, especially if you’ve used that old t-shirt yarn. Tough as old boots, some of that stuff is.
Now, the annoyance bit. Sometimes, the bloody thing curls. Despite your best efforts, it just wants to be a giant yarn taco. And you block it, you press it, you swear at it. And it still curls a bit. And you know what? That’s okay. It’s a handmade item. It’s got quirks. Like people. We all got ’em. A perfect mat, that’s suspicious. Makes you think a machine had a hand in it.
And the ends. Oh, the ends. Always seems like there are a million ends to weave in, doesn’t it? Just when you think you’re done, another tail pops up. It’s the faff of it all. But it’s part of the process. You put on a podcast, or some music, and you just get through it. One end at a time. Like eating an elephant, as they say. One bite.
Will these mats last forever? What’s the point if they fall apart?
Forever? Nothing lasts forever, sunshine. Not even those plastic things they sell. They’ll wear out, get faded, get chewed up by the dog. But the good thing about these hand-knitted ones? If a bit gets worn, or a thread snaps, you can usually patch it up. Or just cut it into strips again and make another one. It’s not a one-and-done thing. It’s a cycle. You make one, use it, wear it out, maybe make another.
The point? The making. The using. The comfort. It’s not about permanence. It’s about being in the moment. Doing something with your hands. And if it lasts for a few years, keeps your feet warm, catches the dirt, then it’s done its job. More than paid for itself in practical terms, and in the sheer enjoyment of making it. That’s what it is. And you can always tweak the designs. Make a round one. Then a square one. Try a striped one. A hundred and five, they say. You’ll probably only ever make a handful. But that’s plenty, isn’t it? Plenty.
