Look what the cat dragged in

A knackered blogger opens one bleary eye and attempts to type. What she might type is anyone's guess, coherence is not gonna be her strong point today.

String together: one day of teaching two charming women alpaca owners to spin, zero to wheel in five hours; one day of regular AH class with fifteen plus the DSM (who actually helped out a lot and was v. useful) teaching basic intro to simple braiding, plus overseeing three newish spinners thirsty for knowledge; one night out on the tiles (of which more in a tick or two); and a dratted clock change. All these total up to one extremely sleepy person....

All the teaching went extremely well. I was particularly pleased with the braiding (and yes, I will post some picture soonish), as I did not make a complete arse of myself and everyone involved appeared to have a really good time. the previous day had gone like a dream, too, one of them didn't get it quite as comprehensively as the other, but was going to make a spinner eventually.

As something of an aside. One of the women had bought herself a second hand wheel which she brought for me to give the once-over. It had a few things slightly wrong with it, one bobbin missing a bush (I think they are called - the plastic insert thingy, anyway, meaning it would not sit on the flyer shaft properly and therefore being unusable); the drive band was the wrong one for the wheel, too tight; and it was generally in need of some TLC. Now, I know the vendors, and have my qualms about them; I have also come across another beginning spinner who had bought a wheel from them that was in a similar condition. And, frankly, I do not consider this an acceptable way to do business. But I don't know what to do about it, for various reasons. In some circumstances, if anyone asks me where to go and buy a wheel, or would I recommend these people, then I could simply state what I have observed and suggest a cautious approach. But so far, it has been too late, and the deed has been done, with the unknowing novice left in possession of a wheel that is not up to scratch. Dilemmas, dilemmas.

Now. this time last week, I was ranting about the ghastly opera performance we had just been to. Last night, we risked a new venture, and went over to York where there was one of the New York Metropolitan Opera live relays to a cinema, the Barber of Seville (only in Italian, and I can't spell it!). My BIL was in the party, too, and he can be somewhat....well, never mind. So I was a bit apprehensive. It was fantastic! there were two or three very short breaks in transmission, at which the entire audience gasped in horror at missing the wonderful sounds, but apart from that all went very well and it was the most glorious performance. OK, so you should expect that from a world class house like the Met, but this was over and above expectation. OK, so a very traditional interpretation - but the director came from a theatrical rather than an operatic background, and that added an enormous amount to the understanding and enjoyment of the evening. Plus, the performers were damn fine actors as well as singers. The whole thing was a joy, so much so that we are going to go to the next one in a months time, Il Trittico, which I have never seen the entirety of, only one of the three.

This is all words, words, words, and not a drop of fibre in sight, so probably time to shut up. The DSM (who is progressing well, in leaps and bounds) has decided it is a good day to chop some bits of the mahonia for some reason, and again for some unknown reason is demanding my help. I had better oblige, and if I am still as sleepy when I get back in, give in and crash out with my iPod, and the cats, who have not stirred from their bed all day.

They don't like the clock change either.