The Perfect Souvenir

This morning I had to get up early to meet a bunch of friends at the South Bank. It was not easy after last night, as my daughter's friend stayed with us for a sleep over. The novelty thing I discovered is that 7 year old's notion of sleep over has absolutely nothing to do with sleeping. It's more to do with applying ample make up in one's bed at 11.30pm, with a shadow of light available. They both literally looked like ghosts this morning when they appeared in the kitchen with their purple shadows around sleepy eyes accentuated by remaining traces of badly applied make up.

So off I went. The air was crisp and frosty. I ran past the Southwark Cathedral and the Golden Hinde. The mist hung over St.Paul's Cathedral's dome and the place looked quite mystical. I was late. I made an entry, was warmly greeted and spent subsequent 2 hours immersed in a very profound exchange of thoughts (instead of meeting for a gossip we meet to practice dialogue, you see). Afterward one of my friends asked me if I wanted to join her in her pursuit of the perfect yarn for a scarf. Now, this friend of mine is not quite as "touched by wool" as me and I thought that I shall certainly support her healthy if unexpected interest in knitting. A thought ran fleetingly through my mind.

"Remember NOT to buy any more yarn. You are running out of storage space."

Well, I only bought 4 balls of Rowan Classic Extra Fine Merino Wool in bright orange, because it was destined for me!

Picture this... In a chaotic sale section was a mountain of yarns. You name it: tweed, cotton blends, silk blends, wool, man-made stuff. I cast an eye over it and was not particularly drawn to it, frankly. But then I spotted this bright orange splodge and touched it (I know, I should have known better). I looked at the label - 100% merino. It's getting better all the time. After a moment of diving into the Yarn Mountain I tracked down another ball, at which point I thought:

"If I can find 4, I'll take it."

And then I saw a woman on the other side of the Yarn Mountain. She was holding a plastic bag containing 2 more balls of my chosen yarn and talking to a bloke about it. She took one ball out of the bag to examine it closer. All the while I was thinking:

"You don't really want this honey. PUT IT DOWN."

For another minute or two I kept on ploughing through the Yarn Mountain hoping that I might find 2 more balls of orange gorgeousness hiding there, but to no effect. All that time I discreetly monitored the "enemy movements" from the corner of my eye and repeated my "PUT IT DOWN" mantra in as focused a manner as humanely possible. The "enemy" had finally put the bag back onto the slope of the Yarn Mountain and I gracefully and decisively took it and gave her a big radiant smile. Sales can be very exciting indeed!

I am glad I purchased this yarn (even though it shows a slight weakness of will). On the up side I got it in a lady-like manner. Whatever it will eventually become, it will always remind me of this magical morning spent in company of excellent friends and a scouting trip with S.

A perfect souvenir.