A few weeks ago I took off on a girlie day out, but by myself.
I saw a poster about Wonderwool in my local yarn shop and not really knowing what it was (am I even a real crafter?) I booked myself a space on the coach which was to set of from a nearby village. So having done no research and only knowing it was ‘somewhere near Cardiff’ my main concern was that I was going alone but the lady organising the trip assured me that everyone was lovely and friendly and I’d be fine.
I wasn’t too worried about being alone because I am fairly solitary but can be friendly and to be honest, when I start talking often I don’t stop. I chose a seat for myself at the back of the coach and we trundled off through the Wiltshire countryside. The organiser had emailed everyone explaining we’d have one loo stop but wouldn’t have time for coffee. She repeated this just as we set off and seeing as though I must have coffee to get me through a morning I had prepared myself a lovely flask as well as few few healthy snacks. The other folks on the bus were lovely, some were clearly serious crafters and carried their knitting with them but as we were only off to Cardiff (about an hour and a half away I was happy to listen to the chatter and look out the window). Most of the chat seemed to be about Spinning – something I don’t do – and after a few minutes I zoned out.
Soon enough we crossed the bridge – the sea was out and the day was fresh and young – and then we were in Wales. I was happy to see it was only another 22 miles to go and grateful for the comfort break.
My two cups of coffee were working their magic on my bladder.
When I clambered back onto the coach I overheard the other ladies discussing a three and a half hour journey. Hmmm, must’ve been a different trip. There was some talk of getting lost and driving all round a housing estate and I wasn’t to bothered. I did notice some folks were breaking into their sandwiches. Well, coach trips get you like that don’t they? After all I’d eaten my snack and drank most of my coffee.
But I did ask my neighbour how soon we’d be arriving. Oh. It was going to be at least an hour and a half longer. So obviously not Cardiff then. Three hours, if we didn’t get lost.
I really had no idea where we were going. I was still happy to look out of the window. There were a lot of sheep. And hills. And valleys. Rivers and streams. I counted four castles. The roads were quite narrow. I listened to conversations about camping holidays in Wales and then I started to feel VERY SICK. Oh God. How embarrassing – what could I do? I had made no contingency plan. I decided to think positively.
This worked pretty well but in time I began to think I couldn’t save myself. 2018 was going to be the year the lady at the back of the bus, who was by herself, was SICK. But luckily my neighbours suddenly announced we were almost there. They had enough time to eat their lunch (eek! it took all my willpower not to throw up from the smell of sandwiches).
And then. We were there, at the Welsh National Showground. I followed the group into the festival before we all split up and went our separate ways. I texted home to say I was there and that it was great – full of colourful and creative people like me.
Colourful clothes, hair, handbags, shoes, jumpers, shawls. There were so many of them; men, women, young, old. It really was fun!
I was amazed by the number of ridiculously talented people there were in one place and felt quite overwhelmed. I loved it though but next time I will try and take a friend because after about 3 hours needed a friend to talk to about all the beautiful stuff there (and I was a bit lonely as well). I got chatting to a lovely lady who had a very gentle lilt to her voice, an accent I recognised as faintly East African. I was right. She runs a Knitting Hotel in Dawlish, Devon. What an adorable idea!!!! The Knitting Hotel
If you aren’t sure what Wonderwool is I’ve posted a link below.
My youngest said to me, once I got home
“Well we have our festivals like Comic-Con, why shouldn’t you have a Woolly festival?”