Hee, hee – well, it is Halloween, after all.
Earlier this week a friend and I helped another friend. Like you do. Nothing wrong with that; friend in need of help has horrible bad back. All well and good.
Maybe I should mention a salient fact here. She also has a wool shop, stocking all sorts of goodies from Rowan, Designer Yarns (oh the Noro, the Noro!), Colinette, Woolcraft, Jarol, Sirdar, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera (whimper) and some local handspun of a very high standard. It is closed on Mondays, and so this is the day when things get done. Like radical rearrangements of the shop.
You see, the winter yarns needed to go out. The summer yarns, those brightly coloured cottons and linens and bamboos, needed shifting – or at least the ones that are no longer moving did (some, amazingly given the weather, are still selling) and replacing with woollier, warmer ones. All in all, not the best time to put your back out. A friend in need is a friend who needs an invasion, and we invaded. Under close instruction, of course. And supervision. Of course.
Boxes were found, plastic bags mustered,
and wool-shop-owning friend was overpowered when she tried lifting things or bending down. It’s not a large space to rearrange – or rather it’s perfect, provided that you are organised, and you have to be organised. WSOF is organised. Helpers? One; yes, she’s organised. Me? Meh… The difficulty is that you have to fondle yarns, you just have to. You need to know how they’d feel on the needles. Honest. You can’t just slap them straight in a plastic bag and put them to one side like the recycling. Oh, no. They need care and attention, a bit like puppies except they don’t widdle on the carpet,
even the ones that aren’t going into boxes.
Ahem. I may have become slightly light-headed. (No, really?)
But we did get stuck in eventually. Of course, as this was happening in the UK, the day had to be broken up by cups of tea (I remember the very first series of Big Brother; there was an international comparison after it ended, and whereas the Dutch – I think it was – had sex, the Brits just had lots of tea). But we needed to pause and assess. Oh yes, we did.
See? Pausing and assessing. (Cake was also involved.)
The chunky and super-chunky yarns had to swap position with the aran-weight ones which needed more space, and new and exciting lovelinesses were waiting for space on the shelves. Er, if they didn’t get bought first. I adore Rowan’s Kid Classic, and the new colours are just to die for. Particularly Grasshopper (the green one).
Fortunately we had to work – possibly too much time spent on tea and cake? – and so they managed to get on the shelf without making a sidewards move. But I’ve got this shade mentally filed for future use; since I started spinning, I’ve become more abstemious about commercial yarn, but I couldn’t come near to reproducing Kid Classic. And then of course there’s Rowan’s Felted Tweed, another favourite – it didn’t need moving but it did need a friendly pat every so often. I have to resist that, too. (Nobody else I know seems to be doing too well resisting it, so I may have to join in at some point, just to be friendly.) I was also very tempted by a Sublime yarn. Sublime by name and sublime by nature – it’s called ‘luxurious aran tweed’ and is a delicious mix of 40% wool, 40% cotton – yup, cotton – and 20% llama. No – spinner though I am, I’m no handspun purist, me. Evidently.
Which was how this happened:
I had a terrible attack of the Noros. You start to twitch slightly, your hand goes out almost unconsciously and you find yourself squeezing a doughnut of yarn, and the next thing you know you have your purse in your hand. I’m sure it’s not just me.
It’s Silk Garden Lite (ergh), in colourway 2065, and it’s going to become one of Sandra McIver’s beautiful jackets from Knit Swirl!; I’m sure I’ll get my head around the unusual construction, which will be interesting in itself. If I don’t go bonkers casting on over 500 stitches and then trying not to twist them when I join to knit in the round.
(The shop, by the way, is Knit One in Dolgellau, 01341 422194, and it is well worth a visit if you’re in the area. But hands off the Kid Classic in Grasshopper. It’s stuck to the shelf with double-sided tape anyway.)