I had a hospital appointment today. The kind of appointment where you just know that you will be waiting for at least an hour after the time it says on your appointment letter. I didn't really mind, as it meant I had the morning off work and I knew I could fill the hour with knitting.
I took along the second sleeve of Hourglass Sweater, which I started last night at my knitting group meeting. (Very good meeting, by the way, our biggest yet). So, I did indeed wait almost exactly an hour past my appointment time, but I was knitting away and reading an old Sunday Times magazine, so I was having fun. I did have to put some effort into blocking out the conversations of other people about what medications they were on, how much they swelled up at night and how much water they needed to drink, but hey, it's a hospital, it goes with the territory right?
Appointment was over, so I went to work. Worked away, then left work. To get home I have to catch 2 buses, which is fine as they don't take long. First bus came and I jumped on. I pulled out the sleeve and knitted away for a few minutes. We got to Brixton, I stuffed my knitting in my bag and got off.
As I got off, I saw my next bus coming. The bus stop for bus number 2 is around the corner from the bus stop for bus number 1. If you walked, it would take about 5 minutes. As I didn't have 5 minutes, I ran. As I was running, I was thinking, 'I'm glad I wore trainers today' and 'I'm pleased I've started going running in the evenings again, I don't feel too out of breath running for this bus'.
I got to the bus stop and jumped on the bus. As I jumped on the bus, I felt a tug on my bag. Because I live in London, my first thought was that someone was trying to snatch my bag. I whirled around, to see nothing, except... a long strand of Felted Tweed hanging from my bag.
It seems that the ball of Felted Tweed had been jolted out of my bag as I ran. I had run, through the centre of Brixton, trailing wool behind me and even got onto a bus, still trailing wool behind me. The motion of the bus moving had then caused the wool to snap. Oh, how Toby laughed (and not in a nice way) when I told him.
If you are passing through Brixton, pause for a moment to remember the ball of grey Felted Tweed. She is sadly missed.