And I’m not awesome; if I were, I wouldn’t have left so long between posts.
A week or so ago, Simon and I went to a “Woolly Weekend” here which I had seen advertised in a knitting e-newsletter. It turns out that Simon was friends with the then-owner’s son and used to go over to play when he was a small boy. His friend is now the owner and they had not seen each other for thirty-five years, so there was much reminiscing and catching-up to be done.
Whilst Simon was re-living his childhood, I watched the Hebridean sheep being shorn and chose my very own fleece. This picture does not do justice to the wonderful rich colour or incredible boinginess of the real thing
This fleece is nowhere near as smelly as the last one I had (which made me very unpopular with the rest of the Creek household) although it will probably stink the place out when I come to wash it. I can’t wait for some warm weather so I can get it washed and dried outside. Buying a fleece that I saw still being worn by its owner is the next best thing to keeping sheep (or alpacas) in the garden…
The farm sends most of its fleeces away to be spun and then sells the yarn along with a selection of kits and/or patterns. The price of fleeces has dropped so low that it would be impossible for anyone to make a profit just from selling them – I felt quite guilty that I only spent £5.00 for a whole fleece – so I really hope that the yarn and knitwear pays off.
There was also a stall selling this
which I have turned into this
I had to dust the wheel off as I haven’t used it for so long and I began to wonder whether I was still able to spin as the first few attempts ended up with wispy bits of… well, stuff, really, that just kept breaking off, but eventually I have ended up with a 2-ply sport-weight yarn that is pretty well balanced. It’s roughly 225 yards to 100g (note to self: stop mixing metric and imperial measurements, it’s confusing) and I’m considering knitting something with it to enter into a “Rare Breeds” competition. There’s still 100g to spin and time is marching on…
Last weekend, we finally managed to get up to Leicester to see my parents; we haven’t really seen them since last summer, apart from a very brief lunch just before Christmas, so the visit was well overdue. As usual, Mum kept us constantly supplied with delicious food (and the odd noggin or two…) and I stayed up well past my bedtime every night, but you have to make every second count!
Coming home on Sunday was a total nightmare. The journey normally takes about three and a half hours (my record is two and three-quarters, but we don’t discuss that as my Dad tells me off for speeding…) but on this occasion it took eight. EIGHT!!!
Things started off well but then we hit roadworks on the M1 – these works have been going on for about two years now and usually just cause a bit of a slow patch. This time it was really slow and the motorway had begun to resemble a long thin car park when we noticed steam pouring out from the bonnet. Simon managed to steer us off the road where we waited an hour and a half in the cold and rain to be moved. Bethany provided entertainment and distraction (for us and for those motorists still moving) by dancing and recreating moments from “America’s Next Top Model” on the hard shoulder (there is video evidence of this, but I’m not allowed to show it…yet). We then waited another hour and a half in the “compound” whilst the breakdown service decided whether or not they could repair the car then and there (they couldn’t) before being transported home in a flat-bed recovery truck with the most uncomfortable seats I have ever experienced. And so the weary travellers finally arrived home, numb of bum, aching of leg, and totally p****d off about 11.45pm.
Thank god I didn’t have work the next day…
The car has been fixed (the fan was jammed, apparently) and we’ve all had a good night’s sleep so harmony is restored.
There has also been a trip to Oxford, but that can wait for another day.
What’s that? Knitting?
Well, there hasn’t been much, I’ve been busy.