For the past week or so, in any spare moment, I've had my needle to the loom, a small loom I took away from a weaving class last week. It wasn't completely out of the blue - I pitched an article about tapestry a while back and was actually there for research - but I have been a bit taken aback by just how much I've enjoyed the process of weaving.
There's something wonderfully tactile and luxurious about digging in a pile of balls of wool for just the right colour; threading the needle, tabby weaving into a meditative state. Of course this tapestry doesn't hold a candle to some of the contemporary weaving out there, but as a first stab I rather like it. It's going to a woman who grew up on the Mornington Peninsula, and if she doesn't want it - I'm sure her cats will.