A la recherche...part the nth

Because now I really have lost count. And this one slipped in as a late entry.

A (very) long time ago in a galaxy far, far, away (yes, I am very aware that the phrase is a total cliche, but it works, dammit!) I travelled to the North Country to learn how to be ....a librarian. No, not a CIA agent. Or a brain surgeon. I will have you know, librarians rock. That old Smirnoff ad spoke de troof.

Well. Kind of. I spent yesterday at a reunion lunch for a small group of my former class mates, one of whom I have kept up a close friendship with all these years despite some fairly major differences of opinion (it can be done), and another who I have come back in to contact with more recently through the former. We added three more in to the mix that I haven't met since 1966. (Skim you eyes over that and you hardly notice.)

It was very strange. I can only suppose that it was the mix. Conversation ranged widely over ailments, ageing and the proximity of death. At which point I remonstrated, don't deny it, I screamed, nod to the fact and party on. I was the only one wearing A Colour, everyone else was arrayed in tasteful shades of greige. I wished I had worn more. The orange shawl that I rambled on about, for one thing - everyone else swore by the cardi.

Whilst in no way wanting to be the centre of attention, I was slightly staggered that no-one asked anyone about what they were doing now, at least if they did, I lost it in the welter of flying symptoms. I clanked my beads a few times, said a few outrageous things and probably fulfilled all their expectations of me. That Caroline (for such was the nom-de-guerre that I operated under all those years ago) still as daft as ever. Remember those awful earrings she used to wear? And what we said was true, no sense of responsibility, just look at what she spends her time doing now! And remember. M....said she had been arrested a couple of times...

If it is arranged again, I Shall Attend, and proudly, be even more outrageous. I owe it to myself, the me then and the me now.

Now. What else? Finishing HP and the HBP, plus the twingeing back (improving) has not lead to much fibre-work. But - I have finished, apart from the fastener, the pearl bracelet.



Never again. And how much I shall wear it, I don't know, I am far from convinced that it is very strong. I used nymo doubled, and put in lots of extra seed beads, stitching through as many of these more than once as often as possible. But you couldn't stitch through the pearls again often without risking total entanglement. Not a nice design. I have seen other bracelets that use a peyote or similar band as a base, and then coral over it somehow. I shall think about one of those. But. I have finally done it, and that is a nice feeling, I did not let myself be beaten! Yeay moi. (oh, shut it!)

I have also finished and worn several times, this:



All of a sudden, I felt the need for neat, discreet, even delicate necklaces. Dear heavens, it will be cardis next! Aaargh.

gw