When I was about 12, my mother got ambitious and wanted to knit me a sweater. It was a of mohair, I think, and in brown, cream and black tiger stripe. It was very warm and I was proud of it – at first. However, I had the opposite problem to Mr. Singh. The sweater grew out of me! The loose knit kept getting looser until it was halfway down to my knees and the sleeves dangled six inches below my fingers. It was unwearable. It was years before I had the heart to discard the sweater, as it was the only thing my mother ever knitted.