Blaming the Sheep.

Today I made a mistake. I decided to start washing my heavy winter sweaters while the sun is high and hot, and put the first two in the machine earlier. One is white, the other dark blue. They didn’t look quite the same when I took them out.

‘Ahem,’ I hear you mutter. ‘Silly boy. No doubt the colour ran from the blue sweater to the white one, so now you have a white sweater no more.’

Nope. It seems my sweaters are as idiosyncratic as I am (must be an energy rub-off thing, or something.) They do things the wrong way round, which is a tendency to which I’ve always been prone. What’s actually happened is that lots of bits of white fluffy wool have deserted the garment of which they once formed a part, and taken up residence with the darker-hued companion. My white sweater remains pure as the driven snow (with just a hint of mellow evening sunlight to preclude the need for dark glasses.) The navy blue sweater, on the other hand, looks as though sheep have been nesting on it. In fact, after what I said about the power cables in Bag Lane recently, I see another trend emerging.