Santy Claws

The scarf was not lost after all. It was buried in the mouldering mess of what is now my old house. I've moved to a room in a new house, shared with two nice women and two insanely cute cats. Unfortunately, these cats were plainly sheepdogs in a previous life, and they love nothing better than hunting down and interfering with wool.











Santa Claus brought me, as requested, loads of spinnable stuff from Wingham Wool Work. Here it is, and here am I, feeling just returning to my toes after the traditional Christmas day swim down by the harbour, which was every bit as cold as it sounds.

It turns out that Wingham Wool Work is only half an hour up the road from where my wee brother now lives, so I will be dropping in some time in the spring.