As always, I had a superb time; scrumptious food and excellent company, lots of laughs and long chats and kindred spirits. Thank you Suse, Janet, Gill, Tania, Kate, Magda and Felicity. You are all gorgeous and I loved wagging Fathers Day to be with you girls. Sh! Don't tell Fixit. In between gas-bagging and laughing with the girls, I almost made a polar fleece dressing gown for Climber, although I'm thinking about re-doing the bit I rushed, so no photos as yet.
Instead I offer you some photos I took of the crew, although somehow I seemed to have missed Felicity entirely, molte scuse, plus there are a couple more photos here. I'm also including a personal apology to the owner of Sewjourn, the lovely Jan, for a slight mishap we had whilst there, mostly because I'm worried the other chicks will tell all sorts of stories in order to protect the guilty.
We're very sorry but *someone* broke the Sewjourn Stork. Well. Mostly broke him. A bit. He's still standing! He's still in his lovely - now with extra Biggles Hat! - knitted ensemble and he didn't drop Jodie's fish. But, well...
His arse.... it fell off. We're so sorry.
We're trying to make sense of what happened, truly.
We thought about blaming concrete cancer, or the torrential rains we had that weekend. (Those photos above show a very rare event, some actual sunshine and non-rainyness, because the whole weekend, pretty much, it was slooshing down.)
But Sewjourn, it's so lovely, and you are so ace for making it so we can escape for weekends of crafty, girly goodness that I thought I should be straight with you.
I suspect the other girls may try to spin you a line, feed you some rubbish story about what happened.
But I hope you know, Jan, that you can trust me.
So it pains me to say it, but I have to tell you...
That although these three look like they're admiring Tania's Knitted Cactus err....Knob-Coverer
One of them is actually, like a serial killer, returning to the scene of the crime. Yes!
Don't you try and run off there Miss Suse Pea Soup! You know what you did. Sure, it IS a Biggles Hat you made for poor old Storky, but did that mean you had to re-enact some huge Sopwith Camel battle scene in amongst those bloody great cacti, hmmm? Surely you could have foreseen it would all go badly wrong?
The thing that baffles me is, how did any of your children survive into boyhood? If you can break a CONCRETE stork merely by placing a knitted pilot's hat on its little head, then either your babies went hatless or you've been working out lately.