Discovered whilst tidying the studio; hoarded WOOL-THEMED-ITEMS. Firstly, a poem by Seamus Heaney, photocopied from I’m-not-sure-where.

The Wool Trade

‘The wool trade’ – the phrase
Rambled warm as a fleece

Out of his hoard.
To shear, to bale and bleach and card

Unwound from the spools
Of his vowels

And square-set men in tunics
Who plied soft names like Bruges

In their talk, merchants
Back from the Netherlands:

O the hamlets where
Hills and flocks and streams conspired

To a language of waterwheels,
A lost syntax of looms and spindles,

How they hang
Fading, in the gallery of the tongue!

And I must talk of tweed,
A stiff cloth with flecks like blood.

The phrase “rambled warm as a fleece” is especially comforting in this increasingly cold days of Autumn I feel.

Secondly, a small flier from this place, where I took this photo back in 2008 on one of the Sussex visits I made to research this article for Twist Collective.

That is all, or I shall miss the post.