poem spinning

It is a beautiful day - all blue shiny sky and I have a day at home. What joy! Alasdair is home too, with some kind of vauge teenage illness, brought on, I think, by Helen his sister having a similar ailment on Monday, during which time she read a novel by Kirsty Murraycalled Walking home with Marie Claire which she just loved. I loved Kirsty's book for young adults, Bridie's Fire. A fantastic book from her historical trilogy which explores the major sweeps of migration into Australia from the Irish Potato famine onwards. We went to the launch of Bridie's Fire and then I came home and read it in one gulp. Then - back to Alasdair - yesterday, Rosie, his step-sister was home from school, overwhelmed by a cold. I suspect Alasdair just rather thought it was his turn...I will know for sure when I offer to eat the left-over curry for lunch. If he puts in a bid for it, my belief in his upset stomach will waver!

Today I am going to endeavour to finish my long-overdue verse novel - I just need a handful of poems to locate it firmly in the country town I know so well, but which the reader doesn't see quite enough and then it's finished and I concentrate on other writing.

Or spinning. Yes, I have been spinning my Finn/Merino x fleece and it is beautiful. Very soft, very, very easy to spin - long stapled and quite clear. You just flick it and it's ready to go. I have no idea what I am actually going to do with the yarn. I find when I wash the handspun and the white creaminess of the fleece is revealed, I feel strangely loathe to dye it. But I'm sure that reluctance will be overcome when I unpack my box of dyes.

I have set Alasdair the task of finding out exactly how to include images on this blog. When that's done I might try to officially join a blogging community and start linking this or whatever it is you do.