We had a day out yesterday which involved a trip round several towns in the Cotswolds, and as usual I was armed with a list of the local bookshops, charity shops and yarnshops. And so it was that I came across the most bizarre yarnshop I have ever seen.
I had great hopes from the outside. It looked quite big and it had a reasonable window display, both good signs. Then I stepped inside. It was tiny inside. Kind of like a Tardis in reverse. And everywhere was stacked with piles of unopened packs of wool. I mean everywhere - they were on the shelves, they were on the floor, they were on the counter. And they were totally random, so there was some quite good pure wool stuff next to some nasty pastel baby acrylic, and then, over on the floor at the other side of the shelves was more of the same pure wool in a different colour. It was as if someone had broken in and ransacked the place. And nothing was priced. Oh, there were a few cards with prices on, but they didn't correspond with any of the packs of wool that were anywhere them. And there was a little old lady sitting in the corner behind the counter, hemmed in with more packs of wool. I'm sorry that I have no pictures of this place (which I am not going to name), but I didn't have the nerve to get my camera out. Once I had stepped gingerly round the shelving and over the stacks of wool on the floor, I just made a break for the door. I think I may have been lucky to escape. If I had stayed in there any longer I think I might have been sucked back to 1977.............
1 comment:
There used to be one a bit like that in Woodstock, but last time I drove through (to see my Dad who lives in Sarsden, nr Churchill), it had turned into a Chinese takeaway.
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