Spinning a long tale


or two.

The end of the Republic: a story to inspire terror, if not much pity.  The great figures pose and slaughter, and for every incident which seems familiar there is another which reminds you that Rome’s culture was predicated upon entirely alien concepts.


While listening, spinning, and I have finished the twentieth skein of alpaca.  This is less impressive than it sounds, as I daren’t spin too much at a time for fear of entangling myself in a knot of truly cosmic complexity when I wind it off, and each teeny hank weighs in at about 10g.  On the other hand, I’m spinning as fine as I know how, so the yardage is considerable.  And now off we go to the bare spindle again.  I might get that jumper one day.


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