Tuesday 13th May

This I found on my weaving group, an abandoned textile mill near Aberystwyth, The Daily Mail has a lot to answer for, but it's archaeological photos/articles are often very good.  There is such sadness in these photos, abandoned in the 1980s the owners and workers must have walked away in despair not even rescuing the wool, perhaps a bankruptcy case.  Nature takes over, surprising there is no sign of the moth that loves wool, machinery rusts, the roof gives way and a time capsule is caught for a few decades.

My fibre has arrived and I spin samples from them, not quite the colours I saw on the website, but pretty greens, an intarsia blanket beckons, but first I must add some dyed wool of my own, blues....

Sunday with our visitor we walked through the bluebell wood above and the lovely sheen of blue was gone, the bluebells so soon over.  Two pubs were visited, Chris wanted to experience the English countryside, and of course the pubs.  He got introduced to Wally at the Cats pub who gave him a tankard to take home, and then after a meal we went down to the Fox and Raven, and another walk by the river.  He is selling quite a bit of sake in this country, but of course to London restaurants.

And just to record another late 19th Century poet famous Yorkshire called Ammon Wrigley, to be found on Andy Hemingway's blog.... reading the poem and Ted Hughes came immediately to mind....

And one grey rock, like pagan god,
Solemn as death, and lone,
That oft, maybe, the hill tribes made
Their ancient worship stone ;
The strange wild people of the past
Have vanished race on race,
And we, like shadows on the grass,
Now pass before its face.