I had intended to return to posting about book-related things this Sunday, but that changed when the furnace came on last Monday morning and started making a terrible noise. A man came to assess the problem on Tuesday afternoon. The furnace would not make the sound for him, but given the age of our high efficiency furnace he found several impending problems. Replacement is cheaper than repair (in the long run) and since we were able to catch the tail end of a reduced rate on the model we wanted, we will pay about the same amount as we paid thirteen years ago for the current furnace. Not bad.
Unfortunately, installation of the new furnace and the accompanying vacuuming of all the duct work means that workmen have to have easy access to all parts of the house.
We live in a very small house full of stuff. David and I have spent the week rationalising (read ‘throwing out’) things in the basement. If we were going to have to move things around anyway, we might as well get rid of some excess. (I am fully aware that, possibly as soon as next week, I will be regretting the decision to discard at least one item.) This pile is a condensed version of my completed editions remaining for sale, some bits and pieces from unfinished editions, and empty boxes/packing materials for shipping orders.
David decided he would tackle the downstairs pantry. Things were going well until he stepped back into the plumbing and a corroded joint gave way, creating a large geyser in a small space. Fortunately the pantry floor is several inches below the level of the rest of the basement (this house has no floor drain) so the flood was confined.
I have decided that it was a good sort of accident: the corroded joint might have given way when we were out of the house and the flooding would have continued until the pump emptied the well. It is also fortunate that David’s plumbing skills were up to the repair.
My only book activity this week was moving boxes of them from place to place.
In book arts news:
In knitting news:
I have a story left over from our walking holiday. On the day we walked around Brotherswater, our route took us past a series of signs which all said the same thing.
The farm shop was closed when we passed, and the residents were occupied separating sheep in a pen —this seemed to involve a great deal of arm waving— so we decided to try on our way back.
I finally have yarn spun from Herdwick fleece. (Also a couple of skeins of mohair.) Here’s a sample I knitted. I love the natural variegation of the yarn.
Here’s David’s picture of me at a kissing gate* and a hillside full of damp Herdies.
*Although there are a number of explanations of the term ‘kissing gate’ on the web, all the ones I found fail to mention the real reason for the name. I don’t think it has anything to do with the inner moveable portion of the gate ‘kissing’ the outer framework. When negotiating a kissing gate one is forced to turn and face backwards. This makes it possible for the person following to steal a kiss.