Pushbikes and the art of sales shopping
Am back from my week of cycling up the English Marches. I had a blissful time. Each day consisted of cycling, lunch, more cycling, dinner, bed (and sooo much sleep), and then the same again the next day. I did about 100 miles in just over 5 days, in a leisurely way, ie walking up any incline. Herefordshire and Shropshire are in a different century. Lots of B&W buildings and enough hills to be a bit interesting (plus all the second hand bookshops in Hay on Wye. I couldn’t carry the books I bought so had to post them to myself). I generally avoided anywhere which wasn't surrounded by fields except for mealtimes. The lanes were one-track ones with very little traffic and even going on B-roads was a bit too much company. I thought of nothing except the next turning, and had no news, no world cup or Wimbledon for the whole week. And in the evenings I read, and occasionally chatted to other youth hostellers. It was a bit hot at the beginning of the week and somehow I wasn't outside when it rained later. I did visit two National Trust houses (for the teashops as well as the elegant 18th century interiors).
Before Woolfest and after seeing the House of Fraser sale mentioned elsewhere, I just had to pop into my local one a couple of Fridays ago, just to see. I scored a pack of dusty pink Kid Classic. I did feel a bit proud of myself that first I looked up patterns to check that ten balls would be enough for a jumper. I have been caught out in my enthusiasm for Rowan before when I bought some Silken Tweed that was not enough for a jumper my size. I have visions of a cardigan with slightly flared wrists and just a touch of lacy bits at the edges.
When showing it to my colleagues I was stung by comments that I ought to finish what I was kitting. Guilty feeling from having said I would only have ten projects current at any one time… and realising it had gone up to twelve as I just had to start the purple yarn my SP sent (a Brea bag, finished the front and back so now need to do the gusset). So whilst listening to the radio that Saturday afternoon I was diligently sewing up my counterpane bag, only to find one of the squares was wrong. And it wasn’t a “just frog a little” mistake, but from the seventh row of 160. I did think about botching it but decided I couldn’t so I have undone it and started that square again. I have also been contemplating linings. Felted bags I don’t think need them but other knit fabrics would stretch without support so I need to line this. Can I find the orange, blue and white linens I have? They must be hiding from me in a fit of pique.
Before Woolfest and after seeing the House of Fraser sale mentioned elsewhere, I just had to pop into my local one a couple of Fridays ago, just to see. I scored a pack of dusty pink Kid Classic. I did feel a bit proud of myself that first I looked up patterns to check that ten balls would be enough for a jumper. I have been caught out in my enthusiasm for Rowan before when I bought some Silken Tweed that was not enough for a jumper my size. I have visions of a cardigan with slightly flared wrists and just a touch of lacy bits at the edges.
When showing it to my colleagues I was stung by comments that I ought to finish what I was kitting. Guilty feeling from having said I would only have ten projects current at any one time… and realising it had gone up to twelve as I just had to start the purple yarn my SP sent (a Brea bag, finished the front and back so now need to do the gusset). So whilst listening to the radio that Saturday afternoon I was diligently sewing up my counterpane bag, only to find one of the squares was wrong. And it wasn’t a “just frog a little” mistake, but from the seventh row of 160. I did think about botching it but decided I couldn’t so I have undone it and started that square again. I have also been contemplating linings. Felted bags I don’t think need them but other knit fabrics would stretch without support so I need to line this. Can I find the orange, blue and white linens I have? They must be hiding from me in a fit of pique.
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