My Funny Valentine

This is how Valentine's day works in Gods own country.
I buy myself a pretty bouquet of flowers on 15 February, they are reduced by 75%, whats a day late with that great saving.
I am happy that they brighten up the penthouse, Mr FF is happy that he didn't have to do anything, I have spent very little and we have marked the day appropriately.
Romance Yorkshire style, you have to be born here.

More reductions

This week we have mainly been downsizing.  Yes it continues, whilst I think we are living a reasonably pared down life in the penthouse there is always room for improvement.

So Mr FF with my permission, I haven't used them for years, put my cross country skis, complete with sticks and boots on eBay and sold them to a nice lady in Cumbria.  He advertised them as collection only but the lady wanted them couriered which turned out to be expensive but acceptable to the buyer.  I don't know if you've ever tried to wrap skis etc, its not easy but the engineer was not defeated (although he did moan a lot during the process).  They are now in our hall awaiting courier collection.

Selling Mr FF's skis will be a different matter a they are definitely too long to be couriered.  

I've been doing my bit knitting up leftovers from the stash.  I made fingerless gloves, cowls, scarves and a couple of pairs of baby socks.  All labelled up I delivered them to a local charity shop and since I'm registered there I should receive notification of how much they raise.  I shall be interested to see how they sell and probably call by next week to check if they are out on display, so not completely letting go yet. 

This pair of gloves however had to stay home, taupe goes with everything.

When we lived in Scotland I had three stash locations, two chests and the bottom of the airing cupboard, now I can see that by the end of the year I could be down to just one, unless you count the stash in Italy but why would you.

Fired up for February

As every I am delighted that January is over, I’m calling last month dry cough January because of the awful virus that laid me low for 3 weeks and the fact that as a result I stopped drinking alcohol on 02 January. So far so dry, it’s not a life changing decision, I shall in moderation be knocking back the local vino in Italy but for now I’m not missing the hard stuff at all.
Much as I wanted January to be over I was rather apprehensive as on 01 February I had an appointment at the dentist for 3 new crowns,  I had agreed to get these all done at once, two at the back on the right one up one down and one at the back on the lower left.
It was an uncomfortable and lengthy experience but my dentist and his nurse were so kind and thoughtful, the worst is over.  I go back in 2 weeks to have my permanent crowns fitted and will be almost £2,000 lighter.  I may also be lighter myself as I am more or less on a soft food diet and its taking me so long to carefully chew anything I am eating less.    
This morning Mr FF and I went to the Industrial Museum in Bradford which apart from being very interesting in itself was having a wool event with stalls, demonstrations, even some alpacas. 

Delightful as the yarns were I resisted bringing any home but I was totally inspired by the beautiful knits on display and enthused to knit with British yarn.  Fortunately the wonderful West Yorkshire Spinners are not so far away and produce yarns reared sheared and spun within spitting distance of the penthouse.

On one stall I found myself standing beside a lady admiring some colourful and lacy fingerless gloves.  'I'd love to be able to make these' she said, I replied that I was sure she would be able to do so, they didn't look that difficult.  'But I can't knit' she replied, 'I'm cack handed'.  Such a wonderful and bluntly northern expression that means clumsy. 
The museum has a vast collection of old machinery from the days when West Yorkshire was the centre of the wool industry, some of it still operational through not productive.

You really got an impression of what it must have been like to be employed in the mills, children started around the age of 12, in dusty, noisy and dangerous conditions working long hours to hand over most of their wages at the end of the week to support the family.

Much of the equipment was manufactured at local foundries, so much industry and employment now all gone.  Note the yarn bombing, it was everywhere.

And it wouldn't have been a Yorkshire event without a brass band.  All this for free though we were more than happy to make a donation to this brilliant museum.