I’ve just got back from 10 lovely days in the Lot region of France. Of course I packed some knitting.  But I found alpaca yarn and hot weather is an uncomfortable combination so I doubt if I got more than a couple of inches added to my wrap.  Hey ho.

In the little villages we explored there were delightful food markets of course – but I didn’t come across any yarn shops so no  store review this time.

But one evening I started to teach my niece to knit.  She is about to go off to art college to do a textile course so she probably has a an affinity with all things yarny and certainly she appeared to be a natural.  But it was hot and sticky for her too so we didn’t persevere for long.

I won’t see her again till Christmas. Next time I’m at a yarn store I intend to choose some needles, yarn and a beginner’s guide and post them to her. And at Christmas I’ll pick up on teaching her person to person again.

This is sheer self-interest.  It’s my bid for a little bit of immortality – you never forget who taught you to knit and hopefully when she is a little old lady wrapped on gorgeous hand-knits she’ll occasionally think of the batty auntie, long gone, who set her off.