Winter winds blow

With heavy fast moving rain forecast and winds lashing the trees back and forth it seemed a 'good time' to go for a walk .... said Moss...... and we (strangely) agreed.

Wrapped up well - to the point on waddling not walking and finding it almost impossible to bend, we set off. Down the main road through the village, past the fairy light encrusted Christmas tree outside of the community centre, turning right up dead duck hill (double quick puff) then right again up a small track towards a cluster of houses. Although we know it is a bit early in the season - we are on the watch out for lambs. We know that they have started to appear.

Round the goose-field to the rec. Moss races the wind as she chases her frizbee, hurtling along the grass at breakneck speed. Following the far edge, we stepped back out of the grounds, across puddle lane and into the sheep filled souterills. Moss threw herself into the winter 'lake' and steamed herself cool again, willing us to let her off her lead, but with hugely pregnant ewes watching warily - her request was refused.

We walk through the upper souterill field making a slight detour past the Highland coo field - checking for calves, they appear soon after Christmas, large fluffy teddy bear beasties hunkering down in the moorland grasses while their mothers watch carefully through thick and wind tousled fringes.

Then down the lane to the nature reserve, still one eye out for lambs and now hares. I can hear the tinkling of the windchimes as we pass chicken accident quarry. Then we leave the lane and turn left up the Ferndene, skipping puddles and dodging flooded paths, past Sagar's Lake, the meadow, the picnic grounds, play park and then back on to the road. A sneaky turn right onto David's walk then home following the main road into the village.

Our walks are are memory maps, with names from village history or from our own stories. Some from when the boys were little and found it difficult to describe where they were, some are anecdotal tales from friends and others associated with events that occurred. All very personal to us yet instantly recognisable to others.

Home now, we managed to avoid the rain but we feel wind battered. So with lunch consumed and mugs of tea being cradled in fingers, we can hear the wind howling around the house and calling down the chimney - but we don't mind. It is all part of the season, the place we live and our lives.

In at the deep end

 Go on, I said, let me fix it for you ... I really would love to. You'll be doing me a favour - I need my hands to be busy and I love doing that sort of thing....

It took a couple of weeks of gentle (ok persistent but gentle) persuasion to be able to prise this jersey (well you lot would call it a cardi but a jersey is a jumper is a cardi to me!) and bring it home. It is a well loved lamb's wool super soft favourite of a dear friend of mine and I'd seen that she'd already made a couple of repairs and that another hole had begun to appear.

I brought it home and started to un-pick the stitches so that I could see what I was working with and soon found that there were many mini repairs all over the body of the jersey. It was like doing textile forensics with the differing coloured thread revealing many layers of repairs to this beloved item of clothing.

Every time I turned the garment over, I found another mend or another hole. So, I decided to start with the smallest wounds and work my way up the the major one on the left under arm.

I kept going, building up my courage and practising different techniques - good old fashioned darning, Swiss darning, boro-esque stitching, patchwork, applique, freeform, pseudo-Dorset buttons and 'wing-it'.

Each evening, after we'd eaten, I'd switch on my anglepoise lamp and stitch another hole closed, avoiding looking at the large one on the arm until apart from a worn thin area that I was going to weave over, I had no choice but to tackle the arm. In the end I took the scissors to it and just cut away all the threads and wool then picked up each tiny stitch and sewed them to prevent any more unravelling.

It was then a matter of finding a soft but strong fabric to patch from the inside and applique stars and tiny stitches to strengthen the knitting. Strangely enough, once I'd got over my reluctance to repair this particular gaping hole - it turned out to be my favourite mend.

This afternoon, after three weeks, I completed the final mend - the woven section on the left front, took the photographs and folded up the jersey. Both relieved and bereft it was now completed. It can return home tomorrow. I shall miss it's company!

This was an act of rebellion against the tide of the throw-away-society as well as an act of kindness to a friend who does so much - thank you x