Wool.  I love wool.  I love that you can go from a ball of the floofy stuff to clothes, toys or pretty much anything.

I can’t remember when I started to crochet.  There are blog posts on here that go back to 2013 but I think it was a bit earlier than that.  I can remember that Mum tried to teach me.  It went very very badly wrong (she’s never been very patient), so I ended up teaching myself from a book.

(Incidentally, it turns out that in their 20s, Mum tried teaching some of her colleagues to crochet in their lunch hour.  She still knows three of these ladies and they have all told me over the years that it went very, very badly wrong as Mum wasn’t patient and they all ended up a bit scared.  Good to know it wasn’t just me 😬)

Anyway, from the unimpressive and pretty hopeless start of triangles that were supposed to be squares, I managed to progress and an absolute obsession was born.  I was quite proud to be a ‘single lady in a tiny house with a cat and borderline unhealthy crochet habit’.

Back then, my sister (supportively) showed me this:

(She is hilarious).

But I found a few boyfriends in that decade.  Most of them were rubbish.  One turned out pretty good though so I married him – which nobody in the world had ever expected to happen in my life – most of all me.

BUT.  It has changed nothing on the wool front.  And I currently have five projects on the go, around 324789 plans in my head, wool stashed in wardrobes, boxes, my step sons room, in the eves and under the house so that Mr R doesn’t realise quite how many sheep we effectively own and I just found a new pattern.  I’ve not seen anything like it before and I am SO excited to try it out that my tummy really does feel like the tummy of a five year old on Christmas Eve.  Luckily I have a bit of spare wool to start it.  And one more project on the go is ok, isn’t it?

I’ll show you how it turns out next week.  For now I have to go and hunt down just the right wool…. 😁