Well, the time is drawing near and I have got to make a decision. Do I go to Woolfest. I'm longing to go but the closer it is getting the squiffier V is feeling about me going all that way in my cronky peugot estate with only a spinning wheel for company and some sturdy knitting needles to protect my virtue if Hugh Jackson sees fit to attend and sees me across a crowded lace knitting demonstration.
I've offered to take Stephanie's dog with me as my heroic protector, but as she really suits her name (Tiny) and her defence mechanism is abject submission then I don't think my husband was greatly impressed.
Its at the end of this month, Cumbria isn't that far away is it?
I've offered to take Stephanie's dog with me as my heroic protector, but as she really suits her name (Tiny) and her defence mechanism is abject submission then I don't think my husband was greatly impressed.
So, if there are any massive, ferocious viking lookalikes, with mechanic skills and maybe a sideline in drop spindling, out there that fancy a wife sitting gig with all the wool they can carry home then just drop me a line at youmustbejokingifyouthinkimcavingtothehusbandoverwoolfest.co.uk
Its at the end of this month, Cumbria isn't that far away is it?
No comments:
Post a Comment