YARNDALE

Your husbands might be good, but mine is clearly the best.

We went to Yarndale at the weekend.  Yarndale is a festival of wool, sheep, alpaca, knitting and crochet. My husband does not knit or crochet.  Yarndale is in the Yorkshire Dales.  We live in West London.  The distance between the two is 250 miles.  He drove up the M1 on Saturday and down the M1 on Sunday. Neither of the girls care to sleep in the car anymore.  We stayed in bunk beds in a family room in a Youth Hostel in Haworth.  My husband is 6 foot something.  The average Youth Hostel bunk bed is 5ft 10.  My husband finds it difficult to sleep in the same room as the girls.  I gave all my cash to the childminder, so he gave me all of his.  He didn't mind me singing Jerusalem as we drove through little villages and towns.  I spared him Wuthering Heights though; I'm a good wife.

Enough proof?

Yarndale was absolutely fantastic.  So many happy fibre addicts, carrying bags and bags of things; so many interesting and inspiring exhibitors; so many animals.  I was rather restrained and only bought two things; after spending such a lot of time with the stash, I was disinclined to spend money, and bought the wool for a baby blanket and a bowl.  Little but expensive.

There was yarnbombing in the trees:

There were crocheted blankets: 

And most excitingly, there was Lucy of Attic24 fame.  

I was a proper fangirl and couldn't speak to her at first, so came over with my own little Lucy from Attic27, and shamelessly used her as a way in to a conversation.  She was totally overwhelmed by the whole experience, but should be very proud of herself.  It was a fabulous event, and I'm really looking forward to next year.  Let's hope they pick a different weekend though so I can run the Ealing Half Marathon as well. 

As if.