Do not fear dear reader, I have not turned into the groovy 60s spy, no not that sort of mojo. It's far worse than anything Austin "Danger" Powers had to contend with. I've lost my knitting mojo!
I suppose it's not bad going. It's the first time this has happened to my in the five years since I discovered 15mm needles and Big Wool and churned out a basic yet passable shawl in two evenings, banishing my awful memories of 80's knitting hell as a teenager grappling with acrylic and excessive intarsia.
I have spent a good part of the summer at knitting festivals with the wonderful p/hop and a good other part knitting professionally. Now I have a bit of time to knit for fun and for me I just can't face it. When I was on round 100 and something of the never ending commission project I fantasised about whipping up a pair of socks (ahem, don't mention the 52 sock pick up or knit 52 pairs in a year challenge I so optimistically signed up for back in June), or a woolly hat for my lovely brother in common law.
This ennui has only been going for a few days, although yesterday I truly despised all the wool in my flat and had an urge to bag it all up and put it out for the bin men. Of course the common sense side of my brain dominated the mohair induced hissy fit and I resisted such rash impulses and came up to Yorkshire for the weekend instead.
There is a woolly reason for this trip north and that is the marvellous Masham Sheep Fair. I went last year, partly because my Dad's brass band were playing and partly through my love of fibre.
It's a brilliant day out with sheep, sheep racing, a fleece sale including rare breed fleeces, sheep shearing demonstrations, spinning, rope making, yarn market, knitting and dyeing competition.
If I'm not in the mood for all that jolly good fun tomorrow Masham is home to not one but two breweries so I can take a tour and drown my sorrows. Out of the two breweries which one will I choose? Theakstons or Black Sheep? Ha!
I suppose it's not bad going. It's the first time this has happened to my in the five years since I discovered 15mm needles and Big Wool and churned out a basic yet passable shawl in two evenings, banishing my awful memories of 80's knitting hell as a teenager grappling with acrylic and excessive intarsia.
I have spent a good part of the summer at knitting festivals with the wonderful p/hop and a good other part knitting professionally. Now I have a bit of time to knit for fun and for me I just can't face it. When I was on round 100 and something of the never ending commission project I fantasised about whipping up a pair of socks (ahem, don't mention the 52 sock pick up or knit 52 pairs in a year challenge I so optimistically signed up for back in June), or a woolly hat for my lovely brother in common law.
This ennui has only been going for a few days, although yesterday I truly despised all the wool in my flat and had an urge to bag it all up and put it out for the bin men. Of course the common sense side of my brain dominated the mohair induced hissy fit and I resisted such rash impulses and came up to Yorkshire for the weekend instead.
There is a woolly reason for this trip north and that is the marvellous Masham Sheep Fair. I went last year, partly because my Dad's brass band were playing and partly through my love of fibre.
It's a brilliant day out with sheep, sheep racing, a fleece sale including rare breed fleeces, sheep shearing demonstrations, spinning, rope making, yarn market, knitting and dyeing competition.
If I'm not in the mood for all that jolly good fun tomorrow Masham is home to not one but two breweries so I can take a tour and drown my sorrows. Out of the two breweries which one will I choose? Theakstons or Black Sheep? Ha!
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