Dead to you

Dear Linda Diak,

Remember me? I’m the polite Canadian spinner who keeps politely coming to your Grafton Fiber booth at all of the fibre shows and quietly buying your cool looking batts and then bringing them home and using them for decorative rather than spinning purposes? Ringing a bell?

In any case, I had a couple of your batts that I dearly, dearly loved and I was not at all sure what to do with them, such was their beauty.


Yesterday I wanted to give my new wheel a test drive (Yup. New wheel. An Ashford Joy so I can spin on the road. I don’t know if you know, but I have mentioned before that my knitty friends at Lettuce Knit are the best sort of human beings and threw me a really cool shower for my wedding…but I digress.) and I staggered into the place where I keep all my fibre and this batt was sort of on top (or at least in the “canopy” of the spinning stash) and I grabbed it and brought it down. I opened it out into a big sheet of fibre onto the chesterfield…


and started tearing off strips, working one end to the other, taking each strip in the progression you carded them into and spinning them into a reasonably fine single.


I say “reasonably fine” because as with all new relationships, my wheel and I will need some time together to work out the kinks. Our love affair is presently a little teenaged, and it’s all sort of fast, giggly, and lacking in finesse. In any case, as I reminisced about old boyfriends I Navajo-plied it into a three ply to keep the colours in the order that I spun them and you carded them.


I won’t pretend I did a good job (I blame the tender relationship with the new wheel) but I was still simply gobsmacked by the resulting yarn. The colours. The softness…the ….well Linda, the everything. I was so taken with the yarn that I did something I don’t do (often). I cast on for something with it straight away…forsaking all others. Forget the sweater, forget the gansey, forget the shawl. Me and my new scarf…


Two for the open road.


I devised a quick reversible scarf pattern and I am in love. Complete and total love. I am so entirely smitten with this plan of mine that I feel inspired.

Linda? This inspiration is dangerous. See, I really like the batt I started with. I really like the one or two upstairs too. I like them so much that I want to do this over and over again. I labour under the delusion that the next one will be even better than this one, and I’ve already gone upstairs and tried to find the other ones that I thought I had. (Suddenly, I am deeply concerned that I may have given them away as gifts, and I’m not comfortable admitting to the petty feelings that realization generated. I’m sure I’ll find them.)

Linda, here’s where you can help me. I am likely going to email, call or accost you soon. I have no intention of calling you now, and I truly believe that I am not going to email you and order 20 batts anytime soon. I think I can handle it. The problem Linda, is that we both know that I am a weak person, and that you are probably going to be at Rhinebeck, as am I. While I have every intention of holding myself together, for the sake of my mortgage, my family and my closet space…there needs to be a back-up plan for when my strength fails me when I see this fibre in person, and this is going to be your job.

When I come up to you at Rhinebeck (or SPA, or a thousand other places where we will surely meet) please, please DO NOT sell me that fibre. Do not speak to me, for I am charming and convincing when I need to be, and I will say what I need to in order to procure the goods. Do not trust any of my known allies, and be suspicious of other bloggers purchasing large amounts of your batts, possibly in my favourite colourways – I am not above enlisting other agents to do my bidding. Do not agree to send fibre to suspicious addresses and do not believe me when I try to tell you that I am buying it for someone else and have no intention of using it myself. Reject my arguments that I am only “holding it” and that I am “in control” and “don’t have a problem” or that I am “only getting a little bit” or that I am going to “share”.

I’m not.

Linda, if you feel anything for me at all, I need to be dead to you.

fondly, as ever


(PS. I was thinking just now and maybe we could agree on a number or something. Like …two. Two batts would be fine…right? Two batts at every show. Per month. Something.)

(PSS. Maybe you should mention this to Tom.)