Morgan and I belong to the same book group. The group had been in existence for about a year and was quietly enjoyable when Morgan joined, but as soon as she came along, things livened up. She is full of energy, has read everything and having a large vocabulary and a cut glass RP accent, is well able to express herself.
The book group is still going strong (Donna Tart’s The Goldfinch this month). After all these years (is it 11 now?) the story of our ten lady members would make quite a good novel itself. Between us we have married, divorced, been bereaved, operated upon and practised upon. We have changed jobs, houses, cars and everything else it’s possible to change. We still however, meet once a month and share our opinions of a book. I feel supported by our circle – I hardly see most of our members but I know they are there if I need them.
I am a hopeless photographer and so can’t do justice to the beauty of the location. Having loved knitting all her life, Morgan opened her own wool shop about 6 months ago. From the very beginning she had a clear picture of what she wanted and has succeeded brilliantly. The shop is full of beautiful things – the wool of course, but also the paraphernalia of knitting and the garments she and her knitters have made to show what is possible. There are several tables in the shop and customers are encouraged to take their time, sit down and mooch through some of the pattern books and magazines. Swansea Bay Yarns is a lovely place (check it out on facebook – https://www.facebook.com/bayyarnsswansea) If you need advice, Morgan will help you, but she is very good at letting people make up their own mind and in spite of her encyclopaedic knowledge, never patronises.
27 January 2015
Swansea Bay Yarns, St Helen’s Avenue, Swansea
I had been asked to go the the nearby One Shoe cafe (odd name, good paninis) and buy beef and red onion paninis, plus a piece of carrot cake. I arrived at the wool shop to find a table laid with a cloth, vase of flowers, china and a bottle of Prosecco. Billy Holiday was playing and as Morgan offered me a glass of Prosecco and said “happy birthday darling” by way of greeting, even though she knows my birthday was months ago, I had a feeling it was going to be a pleasant afternoon.
We ate the paninis (good choice Morgan, they were delicious) and chatted happily. When we moved on to the cake, I discovered that Prosecco and cake is a heavenly combination. I told Morgan that I wasn’t sure if I was delighted to have discovered this or saddened that it had taken me till I was 50 to do so. Ever the pragmatist, Morgan pointed out that as I was only 50, there would be plenty more opportunities for me to indulge and raised her glass to “the deepening of the relationship”.
After lunch, Morgan asked if I minded her knitting while we chatted. I didn’t of course but was sorry that I hadn’t brought any of my own. She offered me a beautiful piece of (thankfully) simple work and we talked and knitted the afternoon away. By coincidence, I was wearing a very skilfully made hand-knitted jumper which was bought in a second hand shop years ago. As the customers came in, bought their wool and had a chat, it became evident that they were assuming that someone sitting in a wool shop, wearing a beautiful, hand-made jumper and actually knitting, would probably be an expert in the field. I was pleased with the deception, every little girl likes dressing up, but a little nervous that I would be asked for an opinion and rehearsed my confession should it become necessary.