Dreams Woven in Yarn and Sky: The Birth of Magner Knitwear

After the first year or so, we completed the retaining walls, a condition of our mortgage requiring a wall along the driveway. The surrounding garden was laid out and tended with the help of Henry, who had once worked as a gardener at a royal estate in Wrexham, Bucks, UK. Anything he planted seemed to thrive. I remember one time he brought home what appeared to be a bundle of dead twigs. Planted in a row, they soon grew into a beautiful hedge of flowering azaleas. With the garden completed, my work with the airline remained steady, giving me the time and motivation to pursue a side project for extra income. 

Although I was working part-time as a waiter in an upscale restaurant, where about six flight attendants also worked during their off days, I wanted to create something more. Sheila began experimenting on her Passap 12 knitting machine, a very basic model capable of only a limited number of stitches. Despite its limitations, she produced remarkable work. Through a local newspaper ad for knitters, she began receiving small orders for baby knitwear — booties, mittens, and bonnets. One pivotal day, after finishing a small order, I took her to meet her agent. He handed Sheila a garment and asked if she could reproduce it on her machine. It was what they called a “crawler,” an all-in-one pair of knitted pants for babies. After careful study and many attempts, we finally produced a version that matched the original. This marked the true beginning of Magner Knitwear. Sourcing yarn in New Zealand was tricky, as most raw materials were imported and required a license. The agent, however, offered to supply the yarn and set a price, allowing us to move forward. To improve production efficiency, we upgraded to a Passap Duomatic, a more advanced machine with a motor and various accessories. Learning to use it became a shared project. Over time, we acquired the latest tools, and the finished garments — now all-in-one pieces with shaped toes and heels — could be completed in minutes rather than hours. Our small business gradually grew. Carolyn became our model, and as orders increased, we purchased another machine. We expanded our range to include pram sets, little coats, bootees, mittens, bonnets, and matinée jackets. Buying a shelf company, Mickycliff Pty Ltd, allowed us to sell directly to retailers. We learned the process of indenting — travelling to companies to secure future orders — and applied for our import license for yarn. The first indented orders were overwhelming, forcing a decision: either scale back or invest in more machines, hire outworkers, and train staff. At this time, I maintained my job at Air New Zealand to provide the financial stability we needed. Life at home evolved alongside the business. Henry proposed to Francis, and their wedding was a joyful occasion. Their move to a unit opened the way for us to relocate as well. We sold our house on Gordon Ave and found a larger home at 274 Beach Rd, Cambells Bay, with five bedrooms, an English-style garden, and a spacious deck perfect for outdoor dining. The children thrived, with the beach just across the road, their laughter filling the house and spreading to Sheila, making her content. My work at Air New Zealand progressed as well. Promoted to Senior Steward, I oversaw the economy cabin on the DC-8 and the Lockheed Electra, managing both passengers and crew. Meanwhile, the house on Beach Rd became the backdrop for treasured family memories. We purchased our first caravan and explored the North Island’s rivers, forests, and mountains. Long weekends and holidays became adventures that strengthened our family bonds. Even the kitchen became a hub of creativity. With ample space, I upgraded appliances inspired by my trips to the USA. Afternoon teas, elaborate sponges, cream cakes, and sandwiches — all cut into neat triangles — became a regular tradition. Family and friends, including Henry and Francis, joined us, and every meal felt like a celebration. My experience preparing fine meals for first-class airline passengers had come full circle, reflecting lessons learned back at Clare House, where Mum and Dad had always prepared food with care and attention. It was in these quiet, everyday victories — a thriving garden, the growth of a small business, the joy of children at play, and a welcoming home — that we truly felt we had built something lasting. New Zealand had become more than a new beginning; it had become the life we had worked so hard to create.
 Looking back, those years at Beach Rd were as much about family as they were about enterprise. Each crawler knitted, each garden bed planted, each meal shared, felt like a building block in the life we were creating. Magner Knitwear was no longer just a side project — it was a symbol of determination, collaboration, and hope. And amid the rhythm of flights, stitches, and laughter, I realised that fatherhood, marriage, and work were not separate paths but threads woven together, shaping a life that was truly our own.