Love, knitting and unravelling stitches

I absolutely adore going to the wool shop. Apart from the fact that I have recently developed an obsession with surgeries, the obession with crocheting is also still ongoing - but judging about a very late night, slightly red-wine-fueled conversation with a surgeon the other day the two are actually quite close to each other - I do think he meant sewing or needlepoint as the thought of the human body and a crochet needle being intertwined is a bit weird - unless you want to stab someone in the eye.

Since I was a little girl I loved wool and going to the wool shop with my Ouma. Now we have even more types of wool and thick knitting needles that I am sure my Ouma, refined woman that she was would frown upon and many, many shades, textures and types of wool and yarn.

 
But that is not the number one reason why I love the wool shop.

The local establishment is a small incubator of scandal and gossip that sometimes explode into moments of incredibly amusing karma-inspired fabulousness that makes you want to run to the car to go lauch out loud in private.

So on Saturday I went to the wool shop to get even more cotton yarn for my latest insomnia-inspired granny-square quilt when I, to my great delight found two of my older friends there. When I say older, I mean 83 and possibly 80-something but she refuses to say. I am not suffering of a sudden attack of political correctness. I am just stating the truth as they are not old in spirit or in other department as Saturday's events clearly showed - and besides they claim that one can only truly refer to another human being as old when they reach the age of 95 - up to then older will do.

My wonderful friend, the one who taught me how to crochet with the help of several bottles of JC le Roux and the odd coffee cup of really bad sherry, took me by the arm. "This," she exclaims in a stage-whisper, "is not for publication unless we remain nameless or you want to blackmail someone..."

Turns out that my friend, who is a sprightly 83 year old, who goes to gym, works in the garden and is a mean, cheating poker player but also the most incredible person ever, has her eye on an 87 year old man who lives near her in the retirement village. The two of them started visiting each other a few months ago, went to the Addo Elephant Park, went for walks by the sea. went to see a movie once or twice and had pizza that gave both terrible heartburn but, to quote my friend, the persisted "for the sake of the romance."

A while ago my friend went to visit her grandchildren overseas and was away for three months. When she returned she found that she had a rival for her man's heart in the shapely form of a sprightly 89-year old . Despite her age, my friend explained that the rival was indeed quite a catch as she still had both her hips even though friend and friend's boyfriend both had hip replacements a few years ago.

 

To everybody's horror my friend's rival also told someone, who told someone, who told someone that a jersey my friend had knitted for her beau "unravelled in the wash" - a fact shared with me with the necessary gasps of shock and horror and hand over heart gestures to convey the full extent of the drama.

Turns out that friend was in the wool shop to "gather evidence" - a small revenge-inspired Sherlock Holmesian old lady with an axe to grind. Next, she took out the "offending garment" as she referred to the jersey. "I think,"  she said (still talking in stage whispers) "that this stitch was cut... and you must help me prove it. Can we send it for lab analysis? Maybe they can find some traces of steel in it or the mark of a blade - because my jerseys NEVER unravel in the wash? Must I go steal her scissors? I am here to find sample wool that we can send along ..." (Or we can possibly stop watching so much CSI and Criminal Minds?)

I wish I could say that I managed to talk her back to sanity but for now, if a kind manager at a forensic facility perhaps reads this and find a slightly unravelled jersey and a some sample wool in a package sent for forensic examination - please indulge my friend. Love has made all of us do silly things.