Legends from our own lunchtimes

Sunday, September 17, 2017

We’ll wait here. - Sunday 10th September

It’s turned chilly now, seriously so, and blustery and wet with funny patches where the sky turns blue for a bit apparently to let a bit more wind through.  It’s a very good day as it turns out, to be going nowhere so we decide that this is where Bob and Penny should meet us and we settled in for the wait.

One of us decided she’d try to complete her knitting project from hell, the one that started as a jumper for a barely newborn, then was going well enough sized for a two year-old before the almost two year old started growing to the point where he’d fill the space of a four year-old.   Yes, that very same one where sleeve patterns didn’t match and the back was skew-whiff and now the shoulders need re-construction.

With the air in the boat turning almost as blue as the sky without, the other of us took off fearing to look back lest he should  be turned into a pillar of salt, for a walk up the tow path to check out the finer details of the prefabricated iron canal bridge, assembled in place in 1864 that a chap named Eiffel either did or didn’t have something to do with, leaving the other to knit and purl in solitude.

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