Once a sister so loved

her brother Russell that she knitted him a heavy 16 ply wool jumper when he was 18. Twice. First time too small and was frogged.

And the second time too large.

There wasn't going to be a third time, so she used the one she had knitted the second time and made sure that it fitted by sewing the side seams up on the sewing machine, trimming about two inches from either side of the body of the jumper.

Now the brother so loved this jumper that he wore it nearly to death, until it became almost a museum piece as the jumper that was the longest running, still in action jumper that Australia had ever seen.

He wore it drenching cattle, digging out scotch and saffron thistles, building stockyards, poisoning wild briar roses, rounding up cattle, pruning fruit trees and for a great many of other farm related activities.

He coerced his wife to patch it and mend it and reinforce it so that it would never wear out. Which she did. A lot.

Note the finely stitched reinforcing of rib and the red dot signifying "the back".

Now it may surprise many, but this jumper is still worn to this day. In fact, one day when the Russell gives up the ghost, it may become a framed museum piece.

The Russell (my Dad) was born in 1943, the jumper knitted in 1961 (or thereabouts), making it about 49 years young, with plenty of time left to serve, riding motorbikes and crawling through barbed wire fences.

The knitter was my Aunty Helen.