The only thing I ever knew about Wichita, Kansas, was that Glen Campbell once wrote a song called Wichita Linesman, and Tom Jones released a version of it about 40 years ago. At a push, I could probably sing most (but not all) of the lyrics. But on Saturday I had a parcel from Wichita and, because I was ashamed not to be able to pinpoint it on a map, I looked it up. Also known as Cowtown and the Air Capital of the World (perhaps there is a connection between those two names, if we overthink some of what Al Gore has told us?), it seems like a fascinating city with an extraordinary history. It is also one helluva long way from the little dorp on the southernmost tip of Africa that I call home!
Back to my parcel. On ripping it open, I was pretty shattered to be met with a collection of giant maggots.
They froze in shock at the sudden exposure. Then they flew up in the air like popped corn as I plunged my hands into their midst to claim this…
…my beautiful gorgeous inspiring bag from Tamara. The colours and design and the amazing fineness of the crochet work are just exquisite. My photo does it no justice whatsoever. This might be a handbag (“purse” if you are American, I believe) that is too good to be used.
And that isn’t all – my bag was stuffed with thoughtful goodies. I got a purple hat pincushion, a sprig of flowers, a matching coin purse (what do Americans call that, then, if a bag is a purse?), two lucky buttons (because a purse should never be given empty) and a beautiful handwritten card.
For those of you who haven’t yet discovered Tamara, she writes a fabulous and inspiring blog (see here) three days a week.
I was very touched and delighted. Tamara, thank you. I will always treasure this. And the maggots have settled down nicely now.
To be continued…