Once upon a Saturday...

...I was feeling mighty stressed, two weeks of nonstop insanity at work being the main (but not only) culprit. Then, on the relatively unscheduled Saturday that capped the stressfest, the boiler broke. And I fled. I looked up train times, checked shop hours, and swept out the door to Stash, Southwest London's cosiest yarn mecca.

I'd been there once before with lechatlunatique, and while we had a pleasant knit 'n' natter there some months ago, I wasn't hugely motivated to make Stash a regular stop. But I suddenly felt strongly drawn to it, for the easy escape and (if I'm honest) a little retail therapy.

On the walk from Putney train station to the shop, I began craving a coffee, and I couldn't resist the unlikely boast of this Persian deli: 'best coffee in town'. (In my blurry photo there, you can just make it out above the door.) Well, the nice old gent behind the counter made a fine cappucino, but it was the treasure on the shelves that had me swooning:

Food-grade rose petals; whole dried limes for superb stews; lemon salt - have you ever seen lemon salt?? - and sour little barberries for saffron rice. And there was so much more, all of it cheap at the price. While I was paying, I couldn't help but say, 'This is so wonderful.' My counterman nodded, smiling, then asked if I knew how to use the limes...

So I was already feeling my spirits lift as I entered Stash a block or so away, where one chick was engaged in finishing her first sock and the two shop ladies were deciding what to have for lunch. As I settled in, a couple of other ladies arrived, one to work on an intricate lace top, another bursting to tell of her new adventure with rag yarn. It was perfect.

I stayed for at least 3 hours, not quite believing how easy it was to distract myself by asking about their projects, petting fancy wool, and just chatting amiably, not to mention making some progress on the eternal Big Wool jumper. I even found some incredibly soft and not pricey baby llama wool to make a wrap to go with the dress I'm wearing to lechatlunatique's wedding in a couple of weeks. (When I got home I was relieved to find that the indigo colour matched my dress perfectly...I have a good eye for colour, but you never know, if the light is funny...)

And I finally splashed out on Selvedge, a bi-monthly textiles journal I often flip thru but have never allowed myself to have. I think it is now a must. How gorgeous is that image? How could I resist for so long?

And there was more in the way of handcrafted beauty yet to come.

This pastel cupcake and lolly display got me in the door of Mei cafe, but the paninis and salads had me reaching for my wallet.

Unusual goodies like the blackcurrant oat squares and big pistachio meringues made me linger, but I walked out with the maple sweet potato and goat cheese salad to share with Dan as part of dinner. He liked the sweet potats but thought the cheese too goaty. I like goaty. I helped him out with his share of the chevre.

Now, would you believe my super Saturday was not yet finished? I spied a small cemetery next to Stash, which turned out to be the prosaically named Putney Old Burial Ground. Some of the tombs had glorious gothic detail...

That shrouded skull motif was repeated on another panel of the tomb, and alternated with a cherub on the remaining two panels...how ghastly, yet compelling!

This was the most magnificent tomb on the grounds, and certainly rivals the graveyard masonry that we took for granted in New Orleans...

I think the procession of trees cut the grandest figure within the grounds, though...

This one is surely a warrior Ent, with arms upraised, head held proudly, and a bulging hip thrust out...

At first I thought these were just flagstones, and ended up walking on someone's grave...

This is my favourite image of the day. The partially obscured stone slab immediately put me in mind of a ripped page, the green against the grey hums with blue and yellow brilliance, and the path curving behind made me feel oddly hopeful.

Had to have a close-up, for the textures...

Much as I admire all this stonework, the only memorial I want is a bench. Let my figurative resting place be one for others as well, preferably by a river or in a library garden.

I can't say I gained any perma-cheer to erase my daily cynicism, but this one Saturday did me a lot of good and made me feel more myself...good mental prep for our trip to Berlin, which post will have to wait a little while so I can do it justice...