Britain is supposed to be metric. Everytime I look at kitchen units, carpets and any DIY material, the measurements are in mm, cm, m. However.
Today I went to a timber merchant to order the timber for the wardrobes that J and a friend are building in the study next weekend. I took j with me for moral support as I find these places quite intimidating. I can deal with angry parents, Ofsted, the Authority, most things, but put me in a builders' merchants and I come over all feeble and girly.
Anyway. we were armed with a schematic drawing and a list of quantities and dimensions so all we had to do was order and pay for it. Not so easy. This timber merchant sells in imperial measurements - "I don't do that foreign rubbish." Great! So after being patronised and made to feel totally stupid (actually told to send my husband in so he could sort it out!!!!!) we had to come home and remeasure in feet and inches. Aaarghh!!!! There was some swearing and cursing in the car on the way back. j just glowered behind his hair.
Never mind. Two nice surprises in the post this morning. Received a lovely card from my Spoiler in SP8. Thank you - it's very exciting to learn that you are in Ireland and to read the theme you have planned for the exchange!
Also received a postcard from my Project Spectrum postcard exchange pal, Christine. Was I intimidated when I learned that Christine is an artist? Answers on a postcard...
I posted my postcard off last weekend, so I hope it has arrived safely. Likewise, the package I sent to my SP8 Spoilee this week. I get so nervous about the postal service these days having had some really bad eBay related experiences. Actually, I'm even more nervous having read my Spoilee's blog today as she is involved in lots of other exchanges and is very outspoken about what she does and doesn't like.
Made some progress on the San Fran Shirttail last night after a couple of false starts related to not having read the pattern carefully (again!) and am very impressed by the one-bite-at-a-time nature of the construction. It feels very satisying to be working in modules rather than endless stretches of stocking stitch on a project designed to fit my bod.
Here it is sunbathing on j's bed.
Our late cat, Spike, used to sunbathe and doze in that spot. I've been thinking a lot about cats lately. For a long time after he died (of old age, I'd had him for long before J or j came along) I used to think I saw and felt him around the house, but not for a while now. Every time I voice the concept of a cat J points out the scratched patch of carpet in the hall and the interesting birdlife in the garden he has invested so much time, effort and money in. I understand his point, but in the words of Billy Bragg 'wanting is no crime'. I even know what kind I would get and where I would get it from. How sad am I?
When I am an old woman, wearing purple and a red hat, I shall have another. In the meantime I settle for this: