This morning, I woke around eight, as usual. But instead of sitting down to my reading for the day, as I usually do, I sat down to my sewing machine and whipped out an epic new cloak. It’s made out of black wool coating (you know, like suiting, but for making coats). I would not have chosen black as a color, but we walked into the tiny wee shop and there it was, at eight pounds fifty the meter. Well that, as they say, was that. And after working with merino knit, it handles like a dream.
Why do I need a cloak, you ask? Well really, who doesn’t need a wool cloak? Well, the answer is simple. Even as I type (laboriously; I hope you appreciate my commitment to you, that I blog from my tablet using the hunt and peck method, rather than let you go without), I am on a train, bound southward toward York. The sun is exerting itself for this last hour of full daylight, and out of the blue, blue water of the North Sea a few hundred meters to our left, a stubby rainbow rears.
We are bound for a medieval/renaissance reenactment. For the past two weeks, since first I heard of the event, I’ve been drafting, sewing, and cutting out. NTS is coming into his own with the sewing machine, having dealt with all the seams and hemming for cloak, wool surcoat and most of his dress tunic.
He is currently immersed in a book. Or, I should say, he is trying to be immersed in a book. I interrupt about every three minutes to rave about the blue of the water, the gold of the shorn fields in the late sunlight, the pastoral idyllicity of woolly sheep in a meadow beside a lively rill. He seems unimpressed by my enthusiasms, so I restrict myself at last to sharing them with you, Dear Reader. I suppose you do have the advantage over poor NTS in that you can sometimes escape, and he never can.
o O o
Sometimes, Scotland is funny entirely by accident. For instance, not twenty feet from where I sit, there is a window marked ‘EMERGENGY WINDOW’. Clearly, that is the window that you can look out in an emergency, when all the other windows have somehow been darkened. Because if you haven’t got your views, you haven’t got anything.
o O o
So, Gentle Reader, I bid you hello for the afternoon and goodbye for the weekend. We are off to pit ourselves against the elements and the rigours of the past.