Simple linen knit T.shirt,
plastic on our beaches and I'm so sad.
 

You might know Fran Stafford as the driving force behind Milford’s Wild and Woolly Yarns, where she has created a haven for knitters with a shop full of natural yarns. But there’s more to Fran than knitting. With summer coming up, and the amount of plastic on our beaches showing little sign of diminishing, Channel Magazine talked to this passionate environmentalist who cares deeply about keeping plastic off our beaches and out of our coastal waters.

Channel Magazine: How would you describe the problem of plastic on North Shore beaches?

Fran Stafford: Plastic is twice daily washed up by the incoming tide, relentless and ceaseless; an unwelcome and inconvenient reminder that we are not as clean or green as we may think. On the North Shore we are ‘fortunate’ that our currents do not wash up the huge waves of rubbish found in many coastal areas world worldwide. However, this is more due to the sea’s currents than a society that is committed to reducing ocean waste. Perhaps if we experienced the waves of plastic commonplace in Kenya and the Pacific Islands, we might be more inclined to act to reduce our impact.

Just walking the length of Takapuna beach with my dog I can easily fill a “doggie bag” with a vast amount and range of plastic: balloons, coffee cup lids, straws, ice cream spoons, drink bottle lids, polystyrene beads, syringes, condoms and of course plastic bags and packaging! Most of the time, it’s hard to distinguish what it began life as, as by the time I pick it up is it already broken down into smaller pieces, the rest floating around in our ocean, or worse….

CM: How did your concern about plastics (and other environmental issues) develop?

FS: It probably started in a small way and grew to become habit. I used a coffee keep-cup and my daughter vowed to not use plastic carrier bags for a year (this was loooong before they were ‘banned’ by supermarkets). These actions became habit and with this, awareness of other environmental issues grew. Soon our whole household was engaged in a game of one-up-manship in terms of who was doing something else to reduce their impact on the planet.

CM: Why is plastic on the beaches a concern?

FS: At a high level, plastic reduces our and other animals’ (that’s right, we are one of many species entitled to a clean environment) ability to enjoy our beaches and oceans. At a deeper level, everyday plastic items carelessly disposed of are the tip of society’s throwaway-nature iceberg. We purchase cheap items which break easily, and then dispose of them irresponsibly. They end up in our waterways and oceans, and begin to break down – not disappear, just break down into smaller and smaller pieces. These pieces, no matter how microscopic they get, never go away (there is not such place as away); instead, they affect ecosystems and food chains. The long term effects of this are still unknown, but they won’t be good.

CM: What kinds of plastic are found on the beaches, and are some more of an issue than others?

FS: In terms of its effect on the environment, plastic is plastic, and nature is as incapable of dealing with PET as it is HDPE or LDPE.  I suppose bigger pieces have a lower chance of ending up in a bird’s stomach than balloons do, or up a turtle’s nose like a straw on that infamous video.

CM: Where does the plastic come from?

FS: People. It’s a simple as that. When you look at the negative impact plastic pollution is having not only on our beaches and oceans, but on the health of our entire planet, we only have ourselves to blame. Plastic has horrific impacts on our planet, from the extraction of crude oil through to its disposal (or lack of) through to its afterlife; our total over-dependence on ‘convenient’, cheap and disposable plastic products is anything but convenient for every other species with which we share this planet. 

CM: What have you been doing about it?

FS: On a miniscule scale, I pick it up. Once you become aware of the problem, it becomes impossible to walk past a piece of plastic litter. I haven’t yet figured out if it is a habit or addiction…. Picking up plastic on the beach can make for an extremely slow walk but the constant bending down is beneficial to the bottom and thighs! I also collect all manner of rubbish on our streets; there’s so much in the vicinity of McDonalds in Belmont and on a Tuesday in my area there’s a steady stream of orange refuse tags to be collected that have been ripped off bins and tossed from the street collection. This system is aimed as a replacement for our orange refuse sacks, but has created a whole new problem.

CM: Apart from beach clean-ups, what do you think we can do collectively and individually to help reduce the problem?

FS: Beach clean ups last for 12 hours. A much more impactful method is not to drop rubbish, or better yet, not buy it. Living by the waste hierarchy of Refuse, Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, Rot (i.e. let the rubbish rot in the environment or landfill) is by far the best way to collectively reduce the problem of plastic pollution. Put simply, think before you purchase – is there a plastic-free option? Do you REALLY need it? Can it be reused or repurposed? Let others know your stance on plastic, and make your views known to retailers (we really do listen). The more we make our beliefs known and acted upon, the greater the ‘crusade’ becomes.

CM: Do you think this is a problem that can be solved – or are plastic-free beaches no more than a dream?

FS: Absolutely the problem of plastic pollution can be solved, through a combination of technology and consumer behaviour. Technological advances to clean up our oceans are fantastic, but they are the ambulance at the bottom of the hill. Changes in behaviour, by comparison, will present a long-term, sustainable solution. I firmly believe that one day the only place for single use plastic will be in a museum, and I will take my grandchildren to visit!

CM: Finally, are there materials other than plastics that are a concern?

FS: Clothing is another interesting one. The fashion industry is one of the most wasteful industries in the world. Fuelled by social media, trivial trends, and manipulative advertising, the fashion industry has selfishly created a mindset in people that they need to constantly buy new ‘stuff’ to be accepted. Workers are forced to work to ever-tightening timelines, the quality of materials does not need to be high, the environment is abused through the growing of cheap cotton or the extraction of oil to produce man-made fibre, not to mention the other end of the life cycle when it ends up carelessly thrown away.

In summary, I believe we can collectively change the world through our purchasing decisions. Buy once, buy well, buy to last. Repair rather than dispose, and when absolutely necessary, dispose of thoughtfully. We created this problem, and collectively we can solve it.

Word's fail me. Oh the irony of a New World bag dumped on the beach!

And finally, the sad bit... 

  I frequently ramble on in my newsletters, about my wonderful childhood in England, my love of all things British and how much I miss my elderly, adorable parents. I recently returned from a wonderful  trip 'home', it was my best visit ever. The weather was glorious, I caught up with old friends and my parents put on a good show. Mum still mothered me and Dad was as lovely as ever. Dad likes a simple life, his garden, his shed , the sport on TV and a bottle of whisky.  Unfortunately Dad did appear to be struggling and shortly after my return to  to New Zealand it became apparent that he was not at all well. The last few weeks have all being rather stressful and upsetting and all rather a blur. My siblings flew 'home' from their homes in Sydney and Perth, my brother certainly drew the short straw and had to make extremely tough decisions. I am so sad... Dad passed away a couple of days ago, peacefully and at home. There won't be an obituary or death notice in the newspaper (mum and dad are extremely frugal and that would be an unnecessary expense) however, if there were such a notification it would say 'passed away peacefully, at home,  after a short illness, and surrounded by his family.' You couldn't wish for more, but the fact that he was extremely elderly, had led a good life and was pottering in the garden just a few weeks ago, does not make it easier. My grief is so strong and goes to the very core of me. I'm useless at expressing my feelings, so I won't go on any longer. Needless to say, I am so sad.

  I am heading back to England at the end of next week.  Mum and Dad were married for 63 years and Mum will need all the comfort and support I can give. I am unsure how long I will be away. Marya and Olivia will be running the shop for me, I believe I am indispensable, but I have to admit that my 'girls' are super capable, they will ensure the shop  runs smoothly and the till keeps ringing. Joking aside, small businesses, like mine, cannot survive in today's tough retail environment without the loyalty and support of all of you. Our relocation to Milford, some twelve months ago has really invigorated both myself and the business. and I would like to give a heartfelt THANK YOU for your custom this last year. 

  Patty, a rep' from the Naturally yarn company,(I would rather call her a Pal) gave me a poignantly named, and beautiful rose bush, which is now flowering profusely and giving gentle drifts of delicate perfume. 

  If I don't inflict another newsletter on you before the end of the year, may I wish you a peaceful Christmas, and a safe relaxing holiday period. (Don't forget to pack some knitting into your holiday luggage!)
 

 Happy Knitting, Fran, Marya and Olivia.

My Dog Has A Drink Problem and Rowan Summer Instore

                                 
 

I'm back from Blighty... great parents, great pals and a fantastic bottle of Dubonnet! 

Isn’t Jet Lag a wonderful thing? I've  been back from my trip ‘home’ to England a couple of weeks now. I landed back in  Auckland at 4 O' clock in the morning. Given the ungodly hour my husband had instructed me to get an Uber. To my surprise, and immense gratitude,  Neil was waiting for me in the arrivals hall. I  guess, that after nearly 30 years of marriage,that's his way of saying  'I have missed you'.

  That first day back I just kept going. I was due in work at 10 am but I had penciled Olivia  on the roster to work along side me and give me a sharp nudge if I showed signs of dropping off. I expected to be confronted with a whole list of knitting related problems, queries and things to sort out. You see, I am indispensable and the store simply cannot run smoothly without me. There were no problems, no customer grumbles, pattern issues or wool shortages.  The shop had run for 3 weeks with slick precision and professionalism. I'd like to believe that was because I  worked so damn hard in the run up to my trip, getting the shop well stocked and organised with military precision, however I suspect Olivia and Marya heaved a sigh of relief, their meddling and controlling boss was out of the way  and they could simply get on with their job!

  That first day I found myself nodding off mid evening and the moment my head hit the pillow I was fast asleep. At 3 am I was wide awake, my husband didn’t love me enough to wake up and have a chat, Harry, my Labrador, expected his breakfast and there were a few noisy youths walking up the street after a good night out!  What’s a meddling, control freak wool shop owner expected to do? Well, go to work of course! The drive up to Milford was traffic free and I managed to get a park right outside the shop, funny eh? As the first delivery of our Summer yarns had arrived that week I did actually have some legitimate work to do. By the time the sun rose the shelves were immaculate, the windows cleaned, the floor vacuumed and I had drunk far too many cups of tea. In my opinion it was a great use of the time.  My husband did make rather a valid comment...he felt that last years jet lag activity was far better for my health and helped to combat  my ever increasing middle aged spread. You see, Takapuna Swimming Pool opens at 5.30 in the morning and for a fair few mornings  I  was the first through the doors and had thrashed  out forty lengths before most people were even awake. It didn't last long and the waistline has expanded a little more!

  As many of you know, my annual trip home is to check up on my very elderly parents. All was well, their morning role call still amounted to the pair of them being all present and correct. They have a wicked sense of humour and are both amazed and astounded to be both ‘around’ each morning. Every day spent with them was magical, we gardened, did some gentle walks and drank endless cups of tea…It’s a British thing! Anyway, I will save our antics for another newsletter. I worry constantly, I am so far away, and know they miss me, and do need additional family help and support. Fortunately I only hear of any 'mishaps' after the event. Dad spent a sudden and exhausting day in hospital last week, The National Health Service was not performing at  its best. Mum and dad spent the entire  day being pushed from pillar to post and asked the same questions countless times from a whole assortment of doctors and nurses. Eventually late into the evening, he  was given a few pints of donated blood and sent home. He said it was the worst day of his life, and he was extremely agitated and upset.  I only found out a couple of days after the event and I have to admit my selfish first thoughts were 'oh no, I can't face another flight home so soon after the last one'. Dad is a little better, he's managed to get out to his shed, his Dahlias are still flowering and his tomatoes fruiting furiously. 

 Picnic lunch, my parents are posh…even though they are eating outdoors mum packed napkins, cutlery and crockery in her shopping bag! Dad is actually grimacing, he still firmly believes that meals should be eaten at a table!

The highlight of my trip was a weekend away with my friend Rachel. Rachel and I have been best pals for 26 years, we met at antenatal classes and our eldest children were born 24 hours apart. Rachel's baby, Alex  was so placid. Rachel  was able to make cakes, keep her house tidy, carry a sleeping baby in a backpack over hills and dales and have leisurely lie ins. My daughter Francesca, screamed and refused to sleep for the first 2 years. I was shattered, I bought cake from Tesco and my house was a mess. I relished the times I sat in Rachel's front room eating home made cake, drinking hot cups of tea and talking until the cows came home. Our children are all grown up now and we finally have the time and the energy to do exactly what we want to do. Unfortunately I only get to enjoy her company once a year. 

 Anyway, Rachel has recently taken early retirement having worked for  National Health Service all her adult life. Still too young and active to put her feet up, she hatched a plan to purchase a seaside holiday cottage in Llandudno (North Wales)   Despite having a lovely family, the holiday cottage became known as Rachel's Cottage and was predominantly used as a retreat for  herself and her Collie Dog, Gwen. I didn't quite invite myself, but, when the offer was made of a few days away, I jumped at the chance and had my bags packed  before you could say 'Jack Robinson'! (a term used to describe an action done at great speed)

Now Llandudno is a place very dear to my heart, but to give a true portrayal of this majestic town I will quote from Bill Bryson's  hilarious book 'Notes From A Small Island'

'It is truly a fine and handsome place, built on a generously proportioned bay and lined along its front with a huddle of prim but gracious nineteenth century hotels that reminded me of a line up of Victorian nannies. Llandudno was purpose built as a resort in the mid 1800's, and it cultivates a nice old fashioned air.

Unfortunately, Bill chose not to stay in one of the grand hotels on 'the front' opting for an indistinguishable guest house, that filled him with a sense of unease and doom the moment he set foot in the door.

'My room was everything I had expected it to be - cold and cheerless 
, with melamine furniture, grubbily matted carpet and those mysterious ceiling stains that bring to mind  a neglected corpse in the room above.There was a tray of coffee things but the cups were- let me be charitable- disgusting and the spoon was stuck to the tray. The bathroom, faintly illuminated by a distant light activated by a length of string, had curling floor tiles and years of accumulated dirt in every crevice and corner'. 

  My husband had to laugh as I read this description out loud. You see, both Neil and I spent many childhood holidays in Llandudno but our experiences were vastly different. I clearly remember, as a young child squeezing into the back of Dad’s Ford Cortina. Our flimsy suitcases were safely in the boot, the air smelt of mum's egg sandwiches and us three children groaned as Dad constantly turned off the engine as we went  downhill in an attempt to save petrol. It seemed to take all day to cover the seventy or so miles to the North Wales coast. We stayed in a smart bed, breakfast and evening meal establishment very close to 'the front'.  The proprietor, in her  twin set and pearls had a kindly disposition, snowy bed sheets and sparkling bathroom porcelain. Our evening meal, taken in the grand dining room overlooking the bay, would commence with a slice of melon topped off with a maraschino cherry, mum would have a small sherry and I struggled to eat my dessert with the highly polished spoon and fork. By the mid 1970's our holidays in North Wales, requiring  windbreaks and  cagoules, were replaced by package holidays to Spain. Sangria replaced the sherry and holiday pocket money was spent on a sombrero rather than a stick of rock. I was the first in my primary school class to travel on an aircraft and prior to the 1976 British heatwave, also the first to flaunt a suntan.

  Neil's childhood memories are a little different. His family did not own a car,  so the train was their mode of transport. Holiday accommodation was a boarding house well 'off the front', their proprietor kept her pinny on and wore grubby slippers. All guests had to vacate their rooms  between the hours of 10 am and 5 pm and tea (dinner) was served at 5.30.  Neil can't remember what was served up on the mismatched crockery, I'm certain it wasn't melon, pate, chicken Kiev or fresh trifle. I am a little envious though...I had to participate in family walks on the Great Orme (a giant rocky outcrop, similar to The Mount at Mount Maunganui. I had to search for  and identify fauna, flora and wildlife and then fill in a holiday note book. Neil was allowed to wander around town, visiting the amusements, purchasing candyfloss and hot dogs and stay out past 8 o'clock. Maybe Neil was attempting to put his holiday memories behind him, when, in the  mid 1990's, we spent a weekend in Llandudno with our two young daughters. We stayed at The Empire Hotel, undoubtedly,  the towns  most expensive and exclusive hotel. It had an indoor swimming pool and guests were invited to pre dinner drinks in the residents bar each evening.We did have a fine time, and my girls have secreted away their own memories of this trip which include donkey rides on the beach, watching violent  Punch and Judy shows on the sweeping promenade and rubbing the back of their legs raw sliding down the heltah skeltah on the majestic Victorian pier.  

  Now I have been rambling on as usual about childhood memories and told you nothing about my  wonderful weekend away with my old pal. Rachel's cottage is perched high up on the Great Orme. You have to be incredibly fit to walk up the breathtakingly  steep road that rises from the town center to the top of the enormous outcrop. An ornate restored Victorian tram carries the less able bodied up the hill and 'locals' use it like a bus service, they are  charged the paltry fee of 80 pence.  After a long day of walking Rachel confessed she normally took the scenic tram ride back to her cottage. Now 80 pence was the charge for residents, for tourists the rate was in the region of 8 pounds. On the Saturday, after a full day of activity I had stayed in town, I needed a coffee and wanted to revisit some of my old haunts and refresh childhood memories. As exhaustion swept over me I accepted I would have to take a ride on the tram, there was no way I could undertake the monumental hike up the hill. To my dismay, as I proffered the exorbitant amount of money to the snowy haired gent in the ticket office,I was informed that the last tram of the day had just left and shanks's pony (using ones own legs and the action of walking as a means of conveyance) was my only option. It took a good 15 minutes to haul myself up the, in some places, 30 degree incline. I was a gibbering wreck but soon came round after a strong cup of tea and a sweet biscuit. AND I had saved myself 8 pounds ($16).

 My time spent in Llandudno with Rachel was incredibly special and will form more precious memories. We have supported each other through all the trials and tribulations of raising our children had always hankered for spending some quality time together, without family, work or time constraints. Well, we took our knitting, we walked for miles and miles, we played scrabble and we ate an awful lot. We did not shut up talking for three solid days and we drank rather a lot of that incredibly dated and kitsch fortified wine, Dubbonet mixed with lemonade. Rachel produced the bottle from her bag, blimey I had not seen Dubonnet since 1979. I seem to remember it was trundled out on the drinks trolley that Christmas, clattering along next to a bottle of Advocaat and some tiny bottles of Babysham. We actually didn't drink too much but maybe our age, the fact that we had been on the go all day, and were totally unaccustomed to this retro fortified wine,  made us rather merry. Our knitting had to be put aside, our scrabble skills went incredibly down hill and we both admitted we slept rather well that night. As we packed up our bags, and headed off to the station for our train journey home we had to admit that we were utterly senseless with exhaustion and realized that we hadn't stopped talking for three solid days. 

    
Rachel has just had eye surgery, hence the Stevie Wonder dark glasses!

 

  When I am faced with the task of writing a newsletter I groan and procrastinate. It takes me ages to get going but once started on the subject of  childhood memories, elderly parents, my fondness for the British countryside and all things British I can't seem to contain myself. The ideas flow and my fingers tap furiously at my keyboard. My husband frequently remarks, 'You do go on rather a lot!' HOWEVER, when I have to do a bit of a 'hard sell' and promote my business (which actually is the main purpose of my newsletter) I simply cannot think of the words to write. How many times should I mention the words 'gorgeous, lovely to knit, beautifully soft, wonderfully warm'? Can we just come to an agreement?... all the yarns I sell are pretty damn good, and their quality and integrity should speak for themselves. I won't think you are strange if you bury your nose in my yarn, if you rub a hank gently against you neck or sink your fingers deep into the center of a ball. These are exactly the things I do when purchasing yarns for the store. So, I won't wax lyrical about soft, gorgeous, luxurious yarn, there's no 'hard sell' but below you will find a brief description of our latest Summer Yarns.

Erika Knight Studio Linen... We have a whole tempting pallet of intensely  rich colour saturated shades to accompany our current range of delicate pastel and easy to wear neutrals. If I could just tempt you a little...Shrub, Shallow, Velvet and Cirrus are the poetic and evocative names given to these new shades. The Stunning range of new ladies garment patterns are on our web site. Take a peek.

Erika Knight Gossypium Cotton...  Again, we have new shades to accompany this premium double knit range of cotton. The colours are a little retro, but also edgy and totally on trend for the a Summer of stylish knitting. The names given to these yarns are super cute and make you smile: Bobcat, Paddle, Dance, Porpoise, and last but not least, Monster! We have patterns for all the family, from babies to blokes. These super stylish patterns prove that projects do not need to be  old fashioned and boring.
 
Sesia Organic Cottons... We have a tasteful range of delicate Summer shades in this,  oh so soft pure organic cotton. Spun in Italy, so it's a bit posh, and absolutely georgeous for precious babies garments. These yarns only come with shade numbers, very boring, so Olivia and I got our heads together and chose some rather suitable colour names... pretty, True, Day Dream and Easy, just to name a few.

Sesia Baby Cashmere and Cotton... I have made a couple of babies garments from this luxury 4 ply yarn. I can only describe the experience as totally sublime, it definitely put me in my happy place. We have on offer Ballet, Snow, Blueberry and Pebble.

Rowan Summer Yarns... NOW DON'T GET TOO EXCITED TOO SOON...Some time next month we are expecting a HUGE delivery of Rowan summer yarns and a whole pile of pattern books and Rowan Magazines(knitters pornography) We have on order Baby Merino Silk DK, Softyak DK, Handknit Cotton, Cotton Denim and Summerlite DK. I will let you know the moment the courier driver staggers through the door with the boxes.

  Olivia has expertly photographed and put all our new yarns and shades on our website. Pop the kettle on, put your feet up and take some time to peruse our latest collection of loveliness. Hey, why don't you try a Dubonnet and Lemonade, it will loosen your will power immediately, I have a feeling the online orders will come flooding in!   

Click here to peruse our new 4ply and 8ply summer yarns

Finally, for those of you unfamiliar with our physical store I have taken a pretty good snap of one of our displays. Photography is not really my forte and I was amazed at this composition. There will definitely be no staff portraits, Marya and Olivia have refused to pose and I always have my eyes closed and look gormless. 

Well that's all for now, happy knitting and thank you for reading all the way to the end. Neil did comment that this was an incredibly long (winded) newsletter!

Happy knitting,
Fran and the Woolly Girls

I’m packing my bags and leaving for England...

A bit about ‘Woolly’ now.

So, if you just want to do a little knitting, nothing too onerous, complicated or expensive then pop over to our web site to take a look at this gorgeous pattern (not too mention those delightful pom-poms!)

Crazy Wool Lady Abandons Dog At Devonport New World!

Now I do hope I haven’t scared you all away…

From left to right 
Back: Concrete - Mallard - Golden Olive - Normandy
Front: Smoky - Vintage - Linen - Surf
 

Nuptialem Horrobilis 

  Her Majesty is not amused. She has an important engagement this Saturday and all is not going according to plan.

  Prince Philip has been off the scene for some time, his hip replacement has been a success and he plans to be at his wife’s side this Saturday. He has assured her he will not make any derogatory remarks about race, class or skin colour, he will all that leave that to Princess Michael of Kent! She is under strict orders to behave and to leave her blackamoor brooch in the jewellery box at Kensington Palace.

  Charles has fallen out with Camilla. She wants to spend the day fox hunting with Princess Anne. Charles mumbled something about not letting the family down. Camilla gave him a clip around the ear and Anne told him to “naff orf.” Charles has scuttled down to Highgrove where he plans to turn his compost heap and have an upper-class conversation with his herbaceous borders.

  Prince Andrew has asked all overseas guests to ‘gift’ their air points to him and Fergie. After such a hectic weekend a little skiing in the alps is in order, closely followed by a trip with Pippa Middleton to a tropical Island to top up the sun tan.

  Fergie has faithfully promised not to ‘put her foot in it,’ she will leave that to Prince Philip and Princess Michael of Kent. There is absolutely no way she will be enticed to grace the cover of next week’s Woman’s Weekly, Hello Magazine or appear on the Oprah Winfrey show…well maybe she could impart some Royal gossip for just a nominal amount of money, may one suggest a couple of million… it helps pay down the overdraft you know!

  The footmen at Kensington Palace are guarding all the Royal Loos. Princess’s Beatrice and Eugenie are planning to nick a couple of toilet seats to wear as hats. That would be most inconvenient.  To huge relief, Kate’s mum has kindly offered to dig out two of her old navy-blue bonnets. The kind gesture was ever so politely declined, but according to The Daily Mail, the Princesses are believed to have remarked that having British Airways emblazoned across one’s forehead was considered rather common. Fergie, never wanting to miss out, said she would be frightfully delighted to relieve Carol of one of her hats.

  Harry and Camilla are under strict orders not to light a sneaky fag at Windsor Castle. The Queen hasn’t kept up her insurance payments and doesn’t want to risk any more Rembrandt’s and Turner’s going up in flames.  Philip has suggested that Camilla takes Harry out onto Windsor High Street and have a few drags with the local riff raff.

  Megan’s busy swotting up on family history and practicing her upper class English accent. She is trying to tone down her Californian drawl, her gushiness and her desire to hug everyone she meets. She could not contain her excitement when she learns that she was not the first American to marry a Windsor. The Queen gave one of her rare, but unmistakable frosty glares and Prince Philip uttered something unrepeatable in German. Megan was rather perplexed, she mustn’t have given this Wallis woman the respect she deserves, she made a mental note that maybe Harry should consider calling their first-born daughter Wallis, that would put a smile on Grannies face.
 Fergie’s just shown her true colours. She’s heard Megan’s Pop won’t be attending the wedding and put her hand up to bags the redundant invitation. The vulgar Duchess planned to sell the invite to her pal Steve Bryant (he’s in the pedicure business, you know) Fergie, Andrew and Steve would make a spiffing threesome, and they faithfully promise to ‘toe the line’.
 
Fergie’s money-making enterprise has been foiled. Rumour has it that Megan’s Pop has covered his recent and unforeseen medical bills by selling his invitation to some trumped up old geezer, goes by the name of Donald, I believe. Donald says he is all good to go, the Missis is in hospital so he is as free as a bird for the weekend and will be able to tweet to his heart’s content.

  Prince Phillip’s got wind of the Trump rumour and he is not amused. Like Mr Markle he has started to feel decidedly unwell, he fears his bladder infection has returned and he will be unable to attend the impending nuptials. To Her Majesties horror Phillip is also in a foul mood, he’s discovered that two of the toilet seats are missing from the Buckingham Palace Loos!

**********
ONE IS NOT AMUSED!
**********

Now if you could please excuse me, an urgent online order has just come in from a Mrs. Elizabeth Windsor. Apparently, she needs a whole lot of wool putting on an immediate Fed Ex flight to Balmoral Castle. She says she is cutting her losses and heading up to the Highlands this weekend. If I value my head I’d best do as she says. First things first though, I’ll just text Fergie and let her know there’s another empty seat up for grabs!



  I do feel for Her Majesty, but never one to miss a sales opportunity, my latest design is titled ‘The Balmoral Throw’. Using super chunky wool, this luxurious blanket is cocooning, comforting and cosy, perfect for Queen in a draughty castle, a Corgi in a royal dog basket (that’s a joke) or a humble Kiwi residing in the far reaches of Her Majesties Realm.

Have a peek at the yarn and free pattern Her Majesty has selected.

We'll pop the needles in for free with every order for the yarn and blanket pattern!