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I’ve just had a rather epic trip into town (you know the kind you have panic attacks about more than 24 hours in advance). Part of it was boring (seeing if my little laptop Bertie could be fixed after he got his feet wet) and part of it was fun (looking for more backing fabric for Dragon’s quilt and getting iron on patches and glue to mend our household’s Toms).

If you’ve never been to Abakhan‘s in Manchester (and other places, including Latvia apparently), and you are of an excitable disposition, you should probably just stop reading.

There’s a normal fabric store upstairs, but on the ground floor is a maze of bins where everything is sold by weight. I don’t know why it makes it so much easier to buy vast quantities, maybe because it comes in pre-cut bits (you can have smaller pieces cut, but I rarely do) but that place makes me want to crawl into one of the nicer bins (suiting, not stretch denim) and curl up like a happy cat.

I was only going to buy only what I needed for the quilt backing, until I found myself in front of the linen section. But, I left the saffron yellow and just bought gray and gray and gray. But it’s ok, I have a plan for the two I’m not using for the quilt. Despite being pathologically opposed to the idea of ironing clothes every time you wear them I have a little linen problem. I seem to want an endless range of gray smocks and smart suits. I fear early exposure to Jane Eyre and Vertigo are to blame.