In a mood of exceptional well-behavedness, I even swatched. But you’re a knitter/crocheter, so I know you’ll understand, yes? Obviously, I had no justification whatsoever for casting on yet another project, so obviously what I did was to cast on another project immediately.
#Postie vac how to#
Those folks at Yarn Stories clearly know how to twist me round their little finger, and I’ll be a complete sucker when they turn up tomorrow asking to borrow my meagre life’s savings.Īmongst the many goodies in the parcel was a pattern for knitting matching cabled hat and mitts. But there’s no comparison between that slightly itchy budget yarn and the gentle softness of this Yarn Stories product.
For comparison, I’ve recently been knitting with a perfectly acceptable wool-alpaca combination in the form of Bergère de France Lima. Firm enough to be a pleasure to knit, but soft. Now I should tell you that this Yorkshire-milled yarn is soft. The yarn in question is an aran-weight sample of purple loveliness, comprising 70% merino wool and 30% baby alpaca, so I just had to get the camera out:. I’ve had worse views:-Īnd then I saw this richness. Would you like to see? Do remember that I am but a witless victim of a zero-cost promotion, and so nothing I say is of any merit whatsoever.įirst, I saw this. I did eventually manage to prise the parcel from Colin’s rain-sodden hands. So do read the remainder of this post with an appropriate degree of ruthless cynicism. But you do need to know: my fickle head might have been turned by the free-ness of this product.
There was no condition that I post about it, but I’m posting anyway.
#Postie vac for free#
I need to tell you that I did not pay for this yarn. The yarn – assuming that was what was in the oh-so-near yet oh-so-unobtainable parcel – was offered to me for free by the good people at Yarn Stories. Here’s the formal bit where I stop being silly for just a moment. Because unless I was very much mistaken, inside that parcel was a generous sample of the finest merino blended with some baby alpaca. I’m getting to the point of this story, I really am, but you need to appreciate the sheer angst of this moment. Gales and driving rain, with a worrying possibility of bits blowing off the house and landing on Colin’s head. To be fair, the weather was pretty crazy at that point. But this morning when I answered the door to him (no mean feat: the door in question has swollen so much in the damp that it takes the strength of ten adults to wrench the blimmin’ thing open: I may yet have to go to work by escaping through a window), I was 90% sure that I knew what was inside the parcel he was clutching, and I was also 90% sure he wasn’t going to hand over said parcel until we’d conducted a thorough verbal analysis of the weather. Tall, anxious chap, goes by the name of Colin, wears a broad-brimmed hat to keep the rain off, and is so kind-natured that I overlook his tendency to remark, “And another parcel for Twisted?” whenever he arrives at our door.Īnyway, the thing about Colin is that he’s talkative. People, please: permit me to introduce our postman.
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