‘A pig’s ear’. Every now and again – or often, in my case – a well-worn expression comes to my lips, and I wonder about its origin. The current usage of ‘a pig’s ear’ – to make a total mess of something – is quite recent, dating from 1954, when it appeared in a novel. Previously, from about 1880, it was Cockney rhyming slang for beer. And even earlier, in 1847, it appears in North America as the variant ‘in a pig’s eye’ with a totally different meaning: “a derisive retort expressing emphatic disbelief, rejection, or denial.” (Oxford English Dictionary). The three variants of ‘in a pig’s ear’, or ‘eye’ or ‘arse’ were used interchangeably in both North America and Australia. It sounds such an old saying that it was a surprise to find it has such recent origins.
Glimpse of gorse on a dreary day
No doubt your weather reports, news bulletins, and Facebook feeds have been inundated with photos and information about aurora. The media here were awash with images of stunning auroras throughout the country, from Shetland to Land’s End. That was a pig’s ear occasion chez Reid. Being dead tired, the skies looking cloudy, and needing to be coherent the next day, I cozied up and slept. The next night aurora were also forecast, but the heavenly powers did not vouchsafe the northern lights. Despite staying up well past my bedtime, no glowing skies appeared. But it wasn’t all bad. I remembered in mid-afternoon that the windows now open, so it wasn’t necessary to go outside to take point the camera at the skies.
Flowering Willow
Those windows have a been a boon these past few days. The week started cold and miserable – mitten-wearing weather – but by the weekend the temperatures were up to the mid 20sº C. That’s low 70sºF in old money. In the far north, these are summer temperatures. Hot enough to open the windows to change the air in the house. Nearly hot enough to wear shorts. But not quite.
Creels glowing in the evening
The theme of ‘pig’s ear’ extends to the gansey. Bone-headed errors were made through haste and inattention. The first was the central diamond on the sleeve. At nearly the halfway point of one, a check revealed that it was off centre by one stitch. To save ripping back entire rows, the relevant stitches on the row before the mistake were picked up on a spare needle. The stitches above were then set free, leaving long strands crossing between the intact sections. Finally, the diamond was reknit.
Last Year’s Flowers
A few days later, I scrutinised the cables. Yes, you guessed it, there was something wrong there too. Due to miscounting, the previous two cable crossings had been too far apart. One cable panel at a time, the process of ripping out and reknitting sections was repeated four times around the row. None of the reknitting is perfect, but the few hours spent were less time-consuming than ripping back 17 rows and reknitting. Poking and prodding have improved some of the unevenness, and the final wash should sort it out.
Reknitting thus is a fine art. I once had to fix a cable on an almost-complete sleeve, in a much coarser texture. It came out well.
Given the curly shape of the pig’s tail, I would have expected “pig’s arse” to be the original because “screwed up” meant “twisted out of shape”, but “my eye and Betty Martin” is a similar usage of “eye”. (Did “pig’s ear” mean cheap or bad beer?)
Reknitting thus is a fine art. I once had to fix a cable on an almost-complete sleeve, in a much coarser texture. It came out well.
Given the curly shape of the pig’s tail, I would have expected “pig’s arse” to be the original because “screwed up” meant “twisted out of shape”, but “my eye and Betty Martin” is a similar usage of “eye”. (Did “pig’s ear” mean cheap or bad beer?)
P.S. No aurora seen here in MD, just clouds.
Well, I read the bit about picking up stitches and setting other ones free and didn’t understand a word. I’ve knitted several Ganseys but this seemed well beyond me. It struck me it was some sort of fiendish magic trick of going back to a mistake without undoing the whole thing.
So, I resorted to Google and discovered the “laddering” technique (I assume this is what you did?) Blimey! I didn’t know such things were possible. Who dreams these methods up?
Thank you so much for supplementing my obviously primitive knitting skills! Mind you, I doubt if I’ll ever be brave enough to try it!
Hi Steve
Apologies if I wasn’t clear! It is a fiendish magic trick, and the spell needs to be just right. I didn’t know it was called the ‘laddering’ technique. I can’t remember if I learned it in the distant past or ‘unvented’ it.
Laddering! I shall have to check that out. I reknitted the whole first sleeve on the first gansey I knit because I had picked up every stitch around the armhole!
In vain I kept thinking, it will be ok… all the way down the sleeve. It was a relief to rip it out in the end.
Hi Nigel
Alas, ‘laddering’ wouldn’t have fixed it in your case – the same number of stitches at start and finish are needed. Although it was painful to rip out the whole sleeve, I bet you won’t do it again!
Obviously, an expert at her craft, and a very enjoyable explanation.
Thank you, and wishing you well.
Thanks, Pete. I don’t know about ‘expert’ – I’ll settle for ‘very good’!