Having looked at the “stash” (I can hear you laughing, you know! I do appreciate that it’s not a real stash but Mr S isn’t to be convinced, so work with me here) I realised that whilst I have fabric, very little of it is suitable for the new season.
Now I’m not one to jump the gun, but the sun has been making valiant attempts to push the clouds out of the way (generally by putting one hand on the cloud’s forehead and holding it at arms length). It’s not completely freezing cold and we’ve had a couple of days without rain. That counts as balmy around these parts.
So, reviewing the fabric crisis it was agreed that a trip to London might just be the order of the day. Whilst there are obviously some fabric shops north of Watford Gap, there is nothing to compare to the glory that is Berwick Street:
and, more specifically:
*Cue harps and choirs of angelic voices*
Now, once upon a time in a former life I used to work in Soho. And I mean work as in “gainfully employed” not “Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman”. My office was less than a five minute walk from The Cloth House. And because of my working hours and the commute and studies, I didn’t sew the whole time I worked there. Now I do have time to sew, I live at the other end of the country. There’s some irony in there somewhere.
Whilst Soho is a haven for all that is eccentric and eclectic in the English (in every good way and lots of weird ways), even I raised the odd eyebrow as I skipped through the door with a maniacal grin on my face. When I started stroking the stock they nearly had me ejected.
However, I clung to the doorframe long enough to make a few small purchases:
Feeling virtuous I skipped over to Loop, Ottolenghi and Gill Wing in Islington. Here I managed to escape having only purchased a 3-pack of cable needles. (Mainly because even I can’t justify £20 for a skein of yarn! No matter how luscious.)
All this shopping induced a great urge for refreshment. I’d arranged to meet Alice (the human one, not the feline one) who was in the mood for fizz. At 2.15 in the afternoon! Who am I to argue?
I’ll draw a line under the rest of the afternoon! Needless to say it was very giggly! And to the lady with the fabulous boots who I feel may have thought we were about to mug her, nope, we just thought your boots were amazing!
Coffee and cake fortified us for the tube journey home/hotel (we transport cattle in better conditions than we do humans on the Underground). All in all a rather splendid day.