The other day, J took part in a (school) outing. They would go see “some garden, or nature, or stuff” he said and that he would bring back a present. Back home in the afternoon he would carefully open the zipper of his anorak, while making a funny little face, to finally confide this small strand of wool to me. (You don’t want to know what his hands looked like …) Apparently, they had been to a farm, where the children (among other things) could try spinning. J confessed that he hadn’t been too interested in the “sheep-clipping the woollen fleece-shorn sheep-spinning”-process but he clearly loved the idea of bringing back “real wool” that he had made for me.
“What are you going to make out of it?” he asked me again this morning. Well, I guess I have to give it some thought.