But tonight the inquiry is met with friendly grins and affirmative nods. The explanation can be found on a scrap of paper stuck on the wall at the far end of the bar with the words "Knitting with Rachel this way" scrawled on it in biro along with an arrow pointing through an archway into a backroom.

Inside is Rachel Henderson, the 24-year-old John Lewis knitting consultant and the rather unwoolly brains behind Edinburgh's first pub knitting event.

The idea, which is apparently popular around the world, is simple. Instead of sitting home alone or joining a formal evening class at a nearby school, you knit - or learn to knit - while enjoying a drink and a chat in your friendly local.

Like most people, I have been presented in the past with a knitted Christmas "jumper", "scarf" or other gift from a well-meaning gran or relative, lovingly but appallingly made. Surely adding alcohol into the wool mix is a recipe for even greater disasters? Not so far, according to Rachel.

She laughs: "We were given free champagne on the first evening and we didn't get much knitting done! People just end up talking. Normally if you just have a glass of wine or something and then a soft drink it's fine, though."

When I arrive there are already around half a dozen women in the room sitting at small, round bar tables clutching needles and chatting as they examine knitting patterns and admire a mountain of colourful wool piled on a table by the far wall. With comfortable chairs, candles and a standard lamp in one corner, the room looks more like a cosy living room in someone's home than a bar.

The first thing that strikes me is the size of some of the needles. They are bigger than drumsticks. Sadly there are not quite enough giant needles for me to borrow a pair so I pick up some normal-sized ones instead, plus a pink ball of wool, and watch with the others as Rachel demonstrates how to cast on.

You twist one strand of wool round your thumb, stick one needle through the loop you've made, twist the other strand of wool round the back and pull the loop through. Or something like that.

Pat Palmer, 50, a clinical support worker from Portobello, complains laughingly: "Last time I did this was at school and I couldn't get the tension right then either. It was always either too tight or too loose. I'm just hoping I've got more patience now," she adds as she asks Rachel for help.

She says: "I saw a piece about it in the paper and I thought it sounded interesting. It's much more informal and relaxed than being in a class."

Glancing at her knitting and then my own I realise I don't seem to be getting very far, so I ask Rachel for advice too. Turns out I'm not winding the right bits of wool around the right things.

After a fashion, we have all managed to cast on so Rachel shows us how to do the basic knitting stitch. Although it looks simple, I find it quite fiddly, but also oddly relaxing - although that may just be the Guinness.

As I carry on I try to get into a rhythm. Having no idea what purling is I opt for a knit-one, sip-one routine. It's slow progress but I soon find myself chattering away about anything but knitting to Lindsay Hutchison, whose knit-one, purl-one efforts are well on the way to creating at least a quarter of a purple scarf.

PAUSING to pick up her pint of beer, the 38-year-old clothing and accessories shop owner explains why she has come along tonight: "I came here for a drink with a friend last week and I couldn't believe it, I had to come back to have a go. The last time I knitted I was at school too. My mum actually taught knitting, but she was always helping me so I'm not as good as I should be really.

That is an advantage which Rachel also highlights in her new book, Pub Knitting - 14 Designs You Can Do in the Pub, launched last month to coincide with the knitting nights. She says: "Like smoking, it's sociable, therapeutic and relaxing, but without the nasty side-effects."

Bar staff come round occasionally bringing more drinks and bowls of crisps. A lone male sitting in a corner with his tiny dog for company gives me a nod as I lift my eyes from my knitting. He certainly seems genuinely interested in what is happening.

And there are men who have already taken up their needles. Bar manager Hamish Campbell says: "People are very curious. I think at first they were thinking 'what on earth is this?' but the reactions are always positive. We had three guys knitting in the bar last week."

Rachel is keen to encourage men to join too, adding: "I think the three guys were students. One of them came the first night on his own. He didn't seem scared at all by all these women, he just knitted away and then he brought his friends the next week. It's great."

Admitting she is no beginner, she says: "I can do the basics in knitting, but I haven't knitted for a while. I am a support worker for adults with learning disabilities and I want to learn how to do more so I can teach them to knit different accessories. But mainly I am doing this for myself. I find knitting very therapeutic.

"It's great knitting here. It's very warm and welcoming, very friendly and sociable. It doesn't actually feel like a pub, you could be anywhere. It's nice to be able to have a drink, although it could equally well be coffee and cake as far as I'm concerned."

By the end of the evening I have approximately two centimetres of knitting on my needles. It's not even enough for a collar for our man at the bar's terrier.

But I'm quite pleased with my progress. And I'm in no rush to leave the remaining knitters who after two hours of spinning good yarns look as though they are going to carry on till dawn.

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