Julie, I know I should be grateful for access to the art galleries of London (and Edinburgh, and Glasgow). But I haven’t recovered much pep since the hols and that horrible day with the snow, and London is very hard work. And a great big place, and you can’t see out of it. One of the lovlinesses of Edinburgh – Robert Louis Stevenson mentions it, in his little book on the subject – is that you can stand almost anywhere, and see beyond.
And to yesterday’s sorrows, another has been added. The best, I might almost say the only, LYS in Edinburgh is closing down. Helen and I are planning to go on Wednesday, to pick over the bones and tell them how sorry we are. The Spinning Fishwife thinks it may be a matter of the owners’ health, in which case I can only conclude that the place is cursed: the first owner died young, and suddenly, perhaps with a DVT, after a trip to the US.
It’s a great shop, in a good location, not too central, not too remote, not too big, not too small, always full of customers and good yarn and one or the other owner who really love yarn and can, as required, teach you how to cast on or speak with excited enthusiasm about the new yarns coming in next month.
Of my current three WIP’s, two derive from there: the KF socks which are my travel project, and the Araucania sweater in Strathardle. The yarn and pattern for Lorna's baby came from there, too. (Follow the link, and you’ll see the result.)
In my opinion, at least so far, the Glasgow competitor, K1 Yarns, can’t hold a candle to it. I may have hit them on a bad day – the owner was away, and someone non-knit was sitting in for her. I’ll try again, the next time we go over to stay with Alexander and Ketki. But my heart is heavy.
So that’s sad.
Helen and I had a good time yesterday. If you follow the link to her website (as given above) you’ll see the very scarf she was wearing. It’s very good, and I am keen to get back to Knitting New Scarves.
John Lewis can’t come until next Friday to see about the television set. The nice woman I spoke to thought the symptoms sounded terminal, and promised that the man would have a replacement in the van. We have reverted to this one, nearly 40 years old: I bought it with my first three months’ salary as a part-time Latin teacher, in the fall of 1970. It keeps us in touch with our soap opera, at least.