In Praise of Welsh Weaving...

I am not one to broadcast my Welsh roots. Until I open my mouth, that is, and the unmistakable Welsh lilt in my dulcets gives it all away.  Even though I was not born in Wales, and have never lived in Wales, I still sound as though that would be the likeliest explanation. However, my Welsh parentage, and holidays three times a year in Llanelli have imbued me with an innate sense of Welshness which only evaporates when I go to Wales and realise that I am merely an imposter, not the real deal. I  support the Welsh Rugby team, am moved to tears by singing at Welsh rugby matches, and I'm brimming up as I write this, with the Treorchy Male Voice choir singing Calon Lan in my head.
So when I had a big rationalisation of our bedroom this summer, I brought out the old traditional Welsh blanket that had come down to me from my grandma. I was never that keen on it, as a child, but now, fifty years later, it takes on an entirely different hue.

Looking good for another 50 Moth-free years.

A gorgeous company called Melin Tregwynt have been sending me their catalogues for some years. It is a Woollen Mill in a remote wooded valley on the Pembrokeshire coast. A mill has been on this site since the 17th century. So when I needed to re-cover the first piece of furniture we bought before we got married, a chaise longue (oh, the headiness of youth!) I realised that at last, I could become a customer. 

And once more return to my roots.