I spun! Or span, or spinned

Last night I had my very first spinning lesson from one of the ladies in my knitting group. She was a very patient teacher and I really enjoyed my lesson. Check out my handspun yarn:



And here it is next to my hair. There are some similarities:



It's lumpy, greasy, overspun in places and barely spun at all in others, but it's mine and I love it. The yarn, that is, although it could also apply to my hair.

So, spinning. Yet another addiction in the making.

Getting away with it

Our marriage is not one of the old-fashioned patriarchal type where I have to get Rob's permission to spend money. However, all our income goes into and comes out of one account, so it's only polite to mention it when one of us has been spending.

The thing is, Rob doesn't give a monkey's when I buy clothes. Some people's husbands get funny about it -- not mine. But whenever I buy yarn, I get 'Oh, darling!' in a slightly disapproving tone. So last time I went clothes shopping, I cam home and unloaded the bags, showing Rob each thing as I unpacked it:

Me: Look, I got a t-shirt, a jacket, jeans and a jumper for you... And this (revealing a John Lewis bag full of yarn) is a jumper for me.

Rob: Oh darling. That's yarn.

Me: No, it's a jumper. It's self-assembly.

And he couldn't really argue with that. I love Rob.