It felt so good, yesterday, holding the little hedgehog after just a little while of work, I thought I would try another super quick softie. I think I am going to start a page of patterns for these tiny little things that can be made quickly from scraps.
I wanted something a little more challenging, so he is made all in one piece, apart from the ears. The wool is alpaca silk - to my mind the best combination on the planet - and he settles in your hand with a satisfying weight.
Showing his lines
I am having one of those times again, the wanderlust is hitting me. As a child I moved around every two years or so, and now every two years I feel the urge to flutter off and find a new life. Although, deep down, I am sick of fluttering. I want a home - a proper home, with a garden, and birds, with grass and trees, filled with books and wool. Somewhere that feels safe and mine.
Because we moved so often, a bit like elephants, I suppose, I don't have a 'home village' or even, for that matter, a 'home'. We always lived in a house, rather than a home: it was always temporary. I wonder if a home is something you can acquire if you've never had one? Anyway, this sounds very morose and I don't mean it to. I am listening to some students, that live across the lane, singing their hearts out to "unbreak my heart". Long live karaoke! As long as they stop soon so I can sleep.