It was getting late. It was cold. I was hungry. As I hurried down Cross Street to get to the bus stop, a warm pool of light spilt out onto the pavement from the window of Loop.
Loop. The yarniest yarn store in North London. Where the walls are stacked with alpaca-merino-silk-cashmere smooshiness. How could I pass up the opportunity to warm my fingers against the soft fuzzy mohairy goodness that lay within? I ducked inside.
I was glad to see it hadn’t changed much since I’d been there last. I glanced up at the shelves, hoping to see eye wateringly sweet colours. Instead I saw uninspiring hues. No matter, I thought, I’m sure there’s more hidden away in the stock room.
I reached out to the skien of pink yarn infront of me and my hand fell to my side disappointedly. How smooth and buttery soft it had looked. I had been fooled. Frustrated I went back to the front of the store. I eyed the Mongolian cashmere on the top shelf. The price tag stared straight back. I turned my gaze to the book shelf, already knowing that I would find nothing of particular interest there.
Surely, there must be something here.
My eyes drifted down to the sale baskets. Slowly, uncertainly, I peeked in. I reached down to the skein of GGH Soft Kid and squeezed gently. I turned the olive green bundle over in my hands and glanced again into the basket. It had no siblings, only distant cousins from a baby pink family. I put the olive green ball back into the basket with a sigh, rose to my feet and headed for the door.
I took one last look before I left, but knew there was nothing here for me now. The colours were too dull, the prices not right. I stepped back out into the cold, and made my way back down to the bus stop.
Maybe next week… I thought.
February 3, 2009 at 10:34 am |
You too?
February 3, 2009 at 11:09 pm |
*nods* ‘fraid so…