Looking for advice - best way to repair the tear in this woollen fabric? reddit.com/gallery/o0y549
👍︎ 3
📰︎ r/upholstery
💬︎
📅︎ Jun 16 2021
🚨︎ report
Leviticus 19:19 - "Thou shalt not let ... a garment mingled of linen and woollen come upon thee." The scriptures ban mixed fabrics, but I always bought cotton/ploy blend garments.

........................................................................................................................................................................................................

👍︎ 36
📰︎ r/exmormon
💬︎
📅︎ Jan 22 2016
🚨︎ report
Sternwater : A Hamlet (for your to "drag and drop" into your game or world - feedback welcome!!)

"A lone, mud-caked road, like a gnarled goblin arrow, cuts through the charcoal mists and peat stinking hamlet of Sternwater.

Around the small puddle-pocked, manure sodden market square clings tightly a handful of low-roofed, ramshackle thatched abodes, like jaundiced, balding golems about a measly, rain-soused fire.

The only sounds you hear are the lacklustre clanks of a blacksmith’s hammer, the grim call of crows in the damp leafless trees, the rhythmic back-and-forth of a carpenter’s saw through a sodden log, and the vile squealing of half-starved boar that wander aimlessly from muck-caked doorstep to boot trampled yard.

The ragged, filthy villagers eye you with suspicion as you arrive - some even hurry their pale, curious children indoors. Worn and pock-marked faces spit scowls and stares towards you, as nearby a gaggle of rake-thin farmers struggle to push a hand-cart loaded with half-rotten turnips through the boggy mud, stopping only to spit or howl at the lone individual bruised and bound with hempen rags to a broken cartwheel at the hamlet’s edge - a scrawled wooden plank about their neck proclaiming them guilty of 'foulness with a hound most bedraggled and the theft of one onion.'"

Local Economy : Locals subsist largely on a barter and exchange system of trade, offering a mended rake for a half-loaf of rye-bread, or a bundle of holly branches for a pitcher of tar.

Very little in the way of coin sways any beyond the Tavern Keep and the hamlet’s Reeve.

Imports : Simple cloth and fabric. Unsuspecting outsiders and lost, weary travellers, as well as the occasional travelling merchant bringing small wares to trade.

Exports : Lycanthropy of the rodent kind. Mud. Disdain. Turnip Ale tainted with something … strange.

Housing : Single-storey, one room cottages with low thatched roofs, bordered by narrow kitchen-gardens in which residents struggle to grow anything beyond bedraggled weeds and stinking mulch.

One residence, however, stands tall - that of the Reeve whom, from his second-storey balcony, watches all and yet sees very little.

Hierarchy & Political Structure : A single figure, the Reeve, appears to lord over the small hamlet. His portly belly tells of a plump pantry, and his many medals and rosettes display his grim pomp for all to see. There is no guard, nor soldiery, and the hamlet’s residents dole out their own bedraggled justices as their bitter whims see fit, or as the cruel majority dictates.

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 593
💬︎
📅︎ Mar 19
🚨︎ report
Norman has an uncomfortable moment in the garden

Norman peered out his back doorway looking to his small garden. A cool, damp breeze played with the steam rising from his coffee mug. He watched a few lazy raindrops spatter onto the pavers. Soon the rain started falling harder making dull whump whump sounds off the roof of his shed.

So much for doing some weeding today. Norman sighed and considered the vast expanse of the Saturday that lay ahead of him. What was he going to do with such a considerable chunk of time? He thought of the latest crossword puzzle he hadn't yet completed. But crosswords weren't really calling out to him this morning. It was a Saturday conundrum.

He sighed and was about to turn and close the door when he caught the glimpse of something strange out on the pavers. A dark lump of some sort was sitting out there on the dampening stones. It looked like fabric.

Was that his favourite denim jacket he wondered. His eyes were wide as he watched the pavers grow wetter in the heavy raindrops.

It was his jacket! It must have slipped from under his arm the previous evening. Oh heavens! He had just laundered it recently and he didn't want it sullied with dirt, pollen or other natural detritus.

He put his coffee cup down beside the door, and tightened his bathrobe around him.

Then he darted outside. His slippers were no match for the elements and the grass was almost comically slippery. Norman almost slid to the very edge of the pavers and the wet grass soon soaked his slippers. "Ack!" he uttered. Cold, heavy raindrops hit the back of his neck and the side of his face and he blinked the wetness away.

Just as he reached down to pick up his jacket he heard a voice from number 4. "Forget your rain coat, Norman?"

It was the owner of the tabby. She was wearing a bright yellow rain jacket, and smiling widely at Norman. What was this woman's name, again? Norman blinked as the rain hit him. "Um," he said.

The woman's smile grew. "Or do you just like standing out in the rain in your bathrobe?"

Norman looked down at his bathrobe, and at the jacket at his feet. A small pool of dirty water was now gathering at the edges of the denim. As he looked down he noticed his bathrobe's belt had come undone during his sliding. He furtively tied up his robe, hoping his neighbour hadn't seen his striped boxers. "I just forgot my jacket outside," Norman stammered, feeling his cheeks burn.

"I'll leave you to it," his neighbour said. "Have a nice day!" she called, and then waved and walked from view.

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 61
💬︎
📅︎ May 13
🚨︎ report
Ladies Wool Coat Shopping

I need a new winter coat, and I really want a proper classy wool coat (not polyester), preferably something stylish or with a nice colour.

Any suggestions for local boutique shops I should check out? I would really prefer to get it from a small local shop rather than Brown Thomas or Next or something.

I've already tried all the shops in Kinsale, but didn't find anything. Shop doesn't have to be in Cork City, but preferably not more than an hour drive.

Any help is appreciated! I'm not originally from Ireland, so I'm not sure where to go, but I want to get to know the local shops better!

👍︎ 13
📰︎ r/cork
💬︎
👤︎ u/ladymierin
📅︎ Dec 06 2021
🚨︎ report
LINKS - Chapter 12 - Seraphim

Chapter 12 - Seraphim

As it had been for the last two days, the first thought that Azee had as she awoke was simply: ‘By the tyrant it’s hot...’

With a low moan, Azee crawled out from under her makeshift tent and pushed herself to her feet. Her mouth felt as if she had just tried to eat a handful of sand, all she wanted in the world was a drink. Her tongue hung limply out the side of her mouth as she panted. Normally she would be embarrassed at such a display, but in the sweltering heat of stepstone pass, she cared little. Her tail dragging limply along behind her, Azee stumbled over towards the stream that bubbled along the bottom of the canyon through which she and her compatriots had been travelling for the last three days.

Even though the trio had pitched their camp in the shadow of one of the great step stones, the air was still fiendishly hot. The eastern horizon shone a deep burnt orange, while the rocks on the rim of the canyon glowed like white hot metal. Even this early in the morning, waves of heat radiated up from the rocks the sunlight touched.

Azee was no stranger to heat. The southern Halcyon summers were long, and swamps of Flinton valley were often stifling. There was little to no shade in the fields, and with the sun beating down and the air thick with humidity, not to mention the back breaking labour, heat was as constant a nuisance as the flies. But the air in the canyon was something different entirely.

A soft breeze ruffled Azee’s fur, like the burst of hot air that would roll over her when she opened the oven in the ranch’s kitchen. As the breeze passed, a strange smell assaulted Azee’s sensitive nose. For a moment, she was unsure of where the odour was coming from, until she paused and sniffed herself. Her nose curled at the scent of sweaty, unwashed fur.

I need a drink… now…

Eloise was already knelt beside the stream, brushing her teeth with a young bit of twig as Azee approached.

“Welcome back to the frying pan,” Eloise muttered.

Azee didn’t answer and instead dropped to her knees and bent over the water.

“Wait, hold on!” Eloise called out, just a moment too late to stop Azee sticking her head under the water.

An instant later Azee reared back, sputtering and coughing. The water of the stream was almost as warm as bathwater, and the shock of it stung Azee’s eyes and ears. As she shook her head, she noticed thin wisps of steam rising up from the surface of the stream.

“Nooo…” Azee moaned, flopping onto her

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 10
💬︎
👤︎ u/Farfener
📅︎ Mar 29
🚨︎ report
[The Samsara Dirge: Adventures in Post-Apocalyptic Broadcasting] - Chapter 22: Sy Reinvents a Machine

The Samsara Dirge is a comedic fantasy with science fiction elements told, alternately, through the POV of four characters: Sy, Rose, Morris, and August.

Begin at the Prologue.

Below is the blurb:

>It was not the apocalypse anyone expected. They called it the Changes. (Which might sound boring, though it was no such thing!) During this time, reality itself was suspended. Anything could happen, and often did. Who could have anticipated flying turtles, lighter than air futons, the appearance of the color slurkle, or the eradication of differential calculus?
>
>After a year and a half of such wonders, it all stopped. The world was not the same, nor the people in it. Why had it happened and how did it end? Would it return? No one knew.
Silverio Moreno, irrepressibly optimistic host of one of the most popular post-apocalyptic gameshows, wants answers. And the truth might just bring in his highest ratings yet!

_______________________________________________________________

The reel to reel tape deck hummed with a warm tone. I stood at the counter of my kitchen island and watched the narrow brown tape as it was pulled across the playhead. A single RCA cable went from the line out port of the tape machine and into my custom converter box. Then, a coaxial cable snaked out from the converter device across the counter to where it was plugged into the video input of an old analog CRT video monitor. Why wasn’t the blasted thing working?

I had no patience for a blank screen, and I was just about to give the whole contraption another whack, when I heard the bell to the elevator.

Oh God, I hoped Sal was up in her rooftop shack, and not rummaging around down here looking for a crossword puzzle book or something. The last thing I wanted was to have Sal complain to me about our poor security. I told her the other day I’d have that elevator girl fix things so people couldn’t ride up to the penthouse without a special key, but I had forgotten all about it. The truth is, I wasn’t sure how to go about that. Was there some sort of requisition form?

Besides, Sal’s fears seemed absurd. What was up with her recent obsessive talk about malignant forces, marauding maniacs, or whatever? I mean, she was the psychic around here.

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 5
💬︎
👤︎ u/rebosse
📅︎ May 30
🚨︎ report
Canadian fabric?

I'm attempting to do a project using as many Canadian produced materials as possible but I've run into a problem trying to find fabric that is produced in Canada. My trip to Fabricland (which is a Canadian company I'm told) wasn't very productive as nothing I could find was produced in Canada. I asked the workers there if they knew of anything produced in Canada and though they were very nice, were not able to help. I even went to a local craft store that specialises in Indigenous arts and crafts and the fabric that they sold there was made in the USA! Can anyone steer me in the right direction?

👍︎ 6
💬︎
📅︎ Dec 09 2021
🚨︎ report
The Man Who Ate Ghosts

Michael Paige

The days all started with the briefing room—a wall-to-wall palette of aged pastels and stark, hospital grayness.

In the center of our little room, an oval-shaped table dominated the space with every seat filled with a tired nurse.

From one of the windows, a bar of morning light often slipped stubbornly past the shutters.

It was this drab room where we discussed things such as the population of our current patients and whether to up or down their medications. In a work environment prone to shifting each and every day, such meetings were vital to maintain the facility’s pulse.

As I sipped my morning coffee and slid the bitter warmth down my throat, I could not help but eye the newest face of our staff—a young man with a sharp, short haircut and a stony, unsmiling face.

Alec Barnes.

A pest.

Throughout the entirety of our meetings, he could never just keep quiet, to sit and listen as we resolved any daily conflicts. No, he had to chime in at every moment he could, bringing everything to a grinding halt to interject with: “I have to disagree—Well, where I came from, we did this—If I could just stop you there.”

A pest indeed.

Every clinic had at least one of his sort—fresh out of college, hungry to get out there and feel out the unit they’d soon be running.

We affectionately referred to them as Weisenheimers—those who can do no wrong. Instant virtuosos of the field.

These people were easy enough to spot, postures tense with self-conviction, nodding impatiently as you speak to them, as though already knowing what you are about to say and that you are simply moving too slow for their patience. And you, only you, are the one doing things wrong.

I can still recall one in particular, a young know-it-all who had become a nuisance during our labs and clinicals, chattering in on how we’d been doing everything incorrectly and not “by the book.”

That is, until one day I’d spied the bag of dopamine she’d secured for a patient draining itself into their sheets. The sheets! Never faster had I seen one’s face flush so red.

And what happens to all that self-importance after moments like this? They are jettisoned out, left to the scorn of those they’d obnoxiously reprimanded. And you can bet your bottom dollar, Alec Barnes will get his eventually.

Reality has a way of compressing our egos.

***

After the meeting has finished and the Charge Nurse has assigned our patient loads for the days, I set

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👍︎ 2
💬︎
📅︎ May 21
🚨︎ report
The Scots were right
👍︎ 1k
📰︎ r/Scotland
💬︎
📅︎ Dec 31 2020
🚨︎ report
Is Earth Actually Flat?

Hey, Vsauce. Michael here. In 2003, researchers did the measurements and found that Kansas is in fact literally flatter than a pancake. Of course, the Earth is not flat, the Earth is round. Otherwise travellers would be falling off the edge all the time. Right? Wrong. If the Earth was not a ball shape, but was instead a flat disk, like this plate, well with the weight, density and thickness, living in the middle could feel pretty normal. But as you move toward the edge, gravity on a disk Earth would slightly skew, pushing at a greater and greater angle back toward the centre. My friend Nick from 'yeti dynamics' put together this great simulation. The person and buildings obviously aren't to scale but check out how such increasingly diagonal gravity would work. Although this is a flat disk, it would feel to a runner headed toward the edge, like they were fighting to climb up a steeper and steeper hill. The building foundations behind the runner reflect how you would have to build structures, closer and closer to the edge, so that people living in them always felt like down was at right angles to the floor - the way we feel it on our big, round Earth. As you approach the edge, things would get scary. Remember, this is a flat Earth, but it would feel like a sheer drop off. What's really cool is that contrary to the "don't fall off the edge" fear, on a flat world because of gravity, the scary risk would actually be falling away from the edge and rolling all the way back to the centre. Once you stepped over the edge, instead of falling off into space, you'd be able to relax. It would be a nice level place. This model, of course, neglects the fact that such a planet shape would be impossible. Anything as massive as the Earth, shaped like a flat disc, would, under its own gravity, naturally collapse back into a ball. This is why in outer space everything more than few hundred miles in diameter is round. Or so we've been told. What if gravity isn't real? What if the Earth is, in fact, flat and science has been wrong all along? It's a misconception that Christopher Columbus discovered that the Earth is round. Virtually every scholar and major religion in the West accepted Earth's rotundity, since at least the time of the Ancient Greeks, who, for instance, had noticed that boats disappear bottom first when sailing away. And, as you walk north and south, stars pop in and out of the view. The misconception that only a few hundred years ago lots and lots of people bel

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 3
📰︎ r/copypasta
💬︎
📅︎ Apr 20
🚨︎ report
I am 24 years old, live in Rural NZ and make $53,000 NZD a year... and this week I took my car to the mechanic.

Section One: Assets and Debt

Retirement Balance: NZ has a scheme known as Kiwisaver, where we put up to 10% of our pay aside and our employer does about a 3% match. I contribute 3%, and my Kiwisaver is at $10,400.

Savings account balance: $800.

Checking account balance: $600

Credit card debt (and how you accumulated it): None anymore!

Student loan debt (for what degree): I have a MA (can't specify what for as it will dox me haha!) and a BA. In total these degrees cost me $75,000 including living costs. In NZ these are interest free, and get repaid through our paycheques if you make over a certain amount- currently repayment is at `12% to the dollar. My loan is at -$70,226.99

Anything else that's applicable to you:

  • The Kiwi dollar is currently $1 NZD to $0.68 USD. All money spent is listed in NZ.
  • My salary is taxed at 30%, plus amounts taken out for union dues, Kiwisaver and my loan. I only get about 50% (sometimes less) after this.
  • I finished paying off $8000 of consumer debt with 22.99% interest in August, and recently had to pay $600 for unexpected dental, which is why my savings are at literally 0. I got myself into this debt during a couple of manic periods (I have cyclothymia) between 2017 to 2019 and spent it all on NOTHING OF VALUE WHATSOEVER. I try to be really careful with money when I'm low or at baseline because one of the first signs I am about to hit a high is that I want to buy everything flash and fancy.
  • I have $75 in various EFTS and other funds through Sharesies- my brother gave me $50 of shares for Christmas 2020 and I put $10 in when I remembered they existed. Otherwise I forget they're there.
  • My Dad pays for my car and health insurance- this is just like cultural appeasement as in his perfect world I would still be living at home and not working lol.

---

Section Two: Income

Income Progression: This is my first "real" job, and I make probably $3000 less than most new graduates in sector. I have been working since I was 13 though: I did 7 years in hospo, then 2 years working as a tour guide/curators assistant (one year overlap as I worked two jobs!), then two years as an admin assistant in a mental health scheme and in a specialty long-term hospital, all for minimum wage. I have basically never not worked since I started high school since I wanted to go overseas and study- which I did twice, once in HS and once in Uni.

My job title is very specific but I basically work a

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 72
💬︎
👤︎ u/brndywne
📅︎ Jan 16
🚨︎ report
My Cat is eating clothes

Hi,

I have a 11 month old cat, whom we had adopted when he was about 4 weeks old. He's a very healthy, neutered cat, other than a habit which he started showing about when he was 7 months old - which is of eating fabrics.

Initially when he had eaten a couple of toys wool and woollen threads we panicked and contacted the vet. However, our cat just threw up or excreted whatever non edible he had consumed. Our vet has suspected he wasn't getting enough nutrients in his food. Since then we have been given the required medicines and highly nutritious food. However it just doesn't seem to stop.

We suspected pica from looking up online, and are usually around in the room. We got catnip plants and got rid of all toys which cause harm. But he has still managed to go out of his way, and eat a part of clothes. He almost goes out of his way to eat them.

Lately, the problem has increased and he's starting get aggressive, for example he tries to attack me with his claws on my eye when I sleep very often. I have even moved out of my room to stay safe from this. Yet, he starts his meowing and creates a hassle early morning continuously until I wake up.

I feel helpless now, I would appreciate any advice.

Thank you.

👍︎ 4
📰︎ r/CatAdvice
💬︎
📅︎ Jan 13
🚨︎ report
[3010] [Medieval Fantasy] Prologue of a side project I started working on

Prologue: Ill-fated

Lord father perished yesterday, at long last. Kelwin had almost wished for it whensoever he had received the letters from the royal physicians, which informed him of the spread of the putridness in father’s right leg. King Arwyn’s skin had ashen as if no blood nourished it; he had flooded his sheets with his sweat, which forced the handmaids and nurses to make him drink even against his will, and he had wailed for nights until the lack of sleep gnawed at his sanity. Kelwin always tore the letters asunder when he reached the descriptions of the gangrene. He was only seventeen; no need to learn such details.

He folded the letter in quarters, hid it within his charcoal-coloured overcoat’s inner pocket and sat atop the hill. He clasped the grass until the dew dampened his fingers and stared at the plain stretching towards the fog on the horizon. Above, the homing pigeon Sir Samuel had sent transported the response already, caught the updraft and vanished within the black clouds, which covered what little the afternoon sun could illuminate.

For the following three days, no one would raise the flags of the Crown of Kalicia. People would cancel and avoid festivities, and the musicians would walk down the streets without their instruments, as they had done after mother’s demise. And on the morrow, brother would sit on the throne.

Prince Owen was six years older than him and, therefore, stood as the rightful heir. He would have no time to discuss it between his advisors’ counselling, diplomatic missions, economy, and trade lessons. “He shall become a splendid king,” everyone would say. Lord father himself had assigned him so many tasks that they called him the co-monarch.

Howbeit, dear brother would describe the inheritance as a bit of blessing hiding an overwhelming curse. The most powerful kingdom of Ridford bowed to him. And yet, the only things he saw were the insides of the citadel of Myra, the myriad of books his schoolmen had provided him, nobles, and generals. He had not even chosen to marry Princess Clairy. He could decide to cancel the wedding, but like enough, he knew that such action would sever their relations with the Crown of Gael.

Kelwin had no such curse. The outside world had way more to offer than the golden prison he had escaped. The times he would—perhaps—envy dear brother was whensoever the nobility spoke of him. Prince Owen always showed himself as a powerful future monarch, a hope to end the turmoil of the kingdom

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 8
💬︎
📅︎ Jan 19
🚨︎ report
[WP] Years ago a witch cursed you to always be the dumbest least educated person in the room. . . (ii)

She limped through the door with jerky movements. A huge patch of her wavy red hair had been shaved off, exposing an ugly purple scar whose black stitching was still visible. Where before she had moved with a free-flowing energy, like the wind in spring, skipping more than walking, almost dancing, now she shuffled like a geriatric recovering from a stroke. Stiff. Uncoordinated. Shaky.

"Emma."

I ran over. She took my arm and I helped her hobble to a chair. She didn't look up from her feet. As if walking required so much attention that she had none to spare for anything else. I sat her down in the recliner like she was a brittle centenarian. I knelt beside the chair and gazed up at her face.

Under her eyes were dark bags. Her skin looked dry, sickly pale. No energy sizzled in those pale green eyes. She no longer smirked. On her tired face she wore no expression at all.

"Hello Roger," she stated.

"Emma."

"The cognitive flexibility of my mechanical components has increased an average of 248.76% since I entered this room," she observed. "Therefore, your powers still affect my cognition. Therefore, I am still more human than machine."

"What have they done to you?"

"They have replaced additional portions of my nervous system with mechanical parts," she replied. "I am who I was. And yet, I am not."

I had spent the last week worrying that she had died from the procedure. But what constituted death? Was it the cessation of all biological functions? Or was the death of the "self" a form of death as well?

Maybe it would have been better if she'd never awoken from the surgery. . .Maybe it would have been more merciful if--

No. I wouldn't follow that line of thought. Because she was not dead. She was here, sitting before me--suffering and diminished, but alive. Instead of mourning the "loss" of my companion's "self", I needed to be more compassionate than ever. Because of what they'd done to her. Taken from her.

Because of me.

"You're not your nervous system, Emma," I said. "You don't stop being you when they take a piece of your brain away. Your brain is like, a piano. And your soul is the pianist. So just because they've twisted your piano out of tune, tinkering with the wires, making it impossible for you to play the same songs you used to--that doesn't mean the real you is gone. The pianist is still there, just as artful, just as talented, just as sly and creative and lovely as ever. Only now she's forced to play a broken instrument. What I'm trying to

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 254
📰︎ r/CLBHos
💬︎
👤︎ u/CLBHos
📅︎ Sep 01 2021
🚨︎ report
Dec/21/2021: Pashinyan in Georgia to discuss railway projects | North-South | Gulf-Sea | Cargo to use ferry vs Upper Lars __ Stable gas price for 10 years __ Amulsar investigation over __ Turkey: imports, lira, polls __ Brain research __ Sports projects & events __ Center for Repatriate __ Chernobyl

This is your 12-minute Tuesday report in 3014 words.

##government wants to find alternatives to Georgia's problematic Upper Lars cargo route

It's the only land route Armenia currently has to its main trade partner Russia. It's closed "half of the year" because of bad weather, bad traffic, or bad politics between Georgia and Russia. Armenian exporters face the consequences.

Economy Ministry: we drafted a bill that offers to reimburse Armenian companies if they use the Poti-Caucasus Port-Poti ferry.

The proposal is necessary because our only land route to Russia is routinely closed, causing problems for Armenian cargo. Since ferry is more expensive than land, and can reduce Armenian product's competitiveness in foreign markets, we are willing to compensate.

Our trade is growing with EAEU member states, yet Upper Lars remains our only land connection to them.

Upper Lars can only handle 170 cargo and 200 passenger vehicles per day in two directions. The traffic exceeds this capacity by orders of magnitude during certain periods. Armenian vehicles cross it 10,000 times a year.

The approval of the bill will help Armenian cargo companies during the seasonal high-fee periods. This can greatly increase cargo exports and make Armenian products more competitive. //

The subsidy for one-way ferry transfer is ֏0.5M, or ֏1M for two-way.

https://armenpress.am/arm/news/1071267.html

##Pashinyan discussed the Persian Gulf-Black Sea railway project during Georgia trip

Pashinyan: I believe the launch of the Gulf-Sea international route can boost regional cooperation.

Bilateral cooperation in the field of transport is a priority for us. We view relations with Georgia not only in the sphere of bilateral but also in the sphere of regional cooperation. We can help each other.

We have two Gulf-Sea route projects: vehicle and railway.

Vehicle: we are developing the North-South highway network in Armenia. It connects the Georgian border to the Iran border. We're working with Georgian and Iranian colleagues to make the road more efficient. If we are also able to come to an agreement with Azerbaijan, this project could expand and become North-South and East-West.

The Sochi and Brussels meetings created the opportunity to possibly come to an agreement with Azerbaijan over restoring vehicle routes. As for railway connection, we already have an agreement with Aliyev over principles. It's abo

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 33
📰︎ r/armenia
💬︎
📅︎ Dec 21 2021
🚨︎ report
Sensory Gloves

Hi, I have quite severe anxiety and recently moved oop north, where its a hell of a lot colder than it is in the southern UK, where I'm from, and I'm looking for gloves to wear. Problem is, that my anxiety has left me with quite severe sensory issues, and the almost woollen quality of most inexpensive gloves will make me have a panic attack. I've looked for gloves made specifically for people with sensory issues and/or autism, but these gloves are primarily to stop people from sucking their thumbs or injuring themselves, and thus either do not cover the fingers, or appear so thick and heavy that they too would cause sensory issues. What I effectively need are fingerless gloves made of a light but warm fabric. Any advice on where I could find such a thing?

👍︎ 11
💬︎
👤︎ u/69Whomst
📅︎ Nov 25 2021
🚨︎ report
The Green Light

The old house on Olympic Avenue watched me menacingly every day as I walked to my bus stop. I always quickened my pace as I reached the old house, not wanting to remain too long in its sight. Its baleful aura made my arms break out in gooseflesh, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I made my way past it to the bus stop on the next corner.

I tried not to meet the gaze of the hulking cyclops; its sickly green eye made me uncomfortable.

A previous owner had replaced the porch bulb with a green one. It remained day after day, year after year, the green glow unable to chase back the shadows the way the comforting yellow lights of the surrounding homes did. It must have been a pleasant shade of green once—no sane person would purposely choose such a disquieting color. It was the greasy green of those quick, skittering spiders that lurked in my kitchen when the weather turned. The fuzzy green that grew on long-forgotten leftovers in the deep recesses of my refrigerator. The slimy, slick green film on my pond after weeks of neglect.

The feeling of dread was always present, although it was worse in the cold winter months as I passed the house in darkness, both on my way to and from my office downtown. The house itself was timeless, built a century ago. In the ‘50s, developers bought up the surrounding farmland and hemmed in the old house on all sides with cookie-cutter ramblers, thrown up quickly and cheaply to cash in on the baby boom and suburban migration. The stately old home must have seemed like a queen among her more common courtiers, set back from the road with the ancient maple tree in the yard. Now, it sat empty and forgotten; even the “For Sale” sign taped to the window was faded and weatherworn. Each year that gnarled old maple disgorged its leaves across the unkempt yard as it leaned drunkenly toward the street.

The house had been empty for at least the ten years I had lived nearby; however, the state of decay implied it had fallen into disrepair much earlier. Once lush, the lawn was now hardscrabble; only the hardiest weeds could find purchase there. The cracked walkway lurched and dipped where the maple’s roots had forced their way underneath. The rotted porch sagged, its paint peeling like strips of mummified skin. I wondered why the power company hadn’t cut off the power to that miasmic beacon. And how had that awful bulb not burned out years ago? As much as I tried to ignore the green light, I couldn’t avoid it. Once

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📅︎ Jan 24
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Wool vs Cotton - Garment Material Guide

Wool vs Cotton – Garment Material Guide

As the most used material of garments, wool and cotton is applied in different types of clothing. So today we’re talking about wool vs cotton. Let’s begin with the pros and cons of cotton.

1. Cotton – Wool vs Cotton

Cotton is a cellulose fiber just like linen and hemp which means that it’s grown from a plant. Now it has this pros absolutely it’s inexpensive oftentimes. You’ll find a cotton piece to be half the price of the exact same thing made out of wool.

1.1 More Breathable

Depending on the weave cotton can actually be more breathable than wool.

Miss actually has to do with the individual fibers which are a lot smoother than the coarser fibers of wool which tend to trap warm air.

1.2 Stronger

Cotton is also very strong. It can be spun very tightly to form very fine yarns which could then be woven into nice lightweight fabrics making it ideal for the warmer climates.

1.3 Skin-friendly

Cotton is also great for people with sensitive skin. So if you’ve ever broken out or had irritation because you’ve worn something most likely. Cotton is gonna be your best friend. Some of the cons of cotton it does not insulate well, especially when compared to wool especially when it’s wet.

So if you’ve ever worn a wet t-shirt or a wet pair of jeans, you know exactly what I’m talking about. It seems to suck the heat right out of you.

1.4 Less durable than wool

Even if it’s warm outside, cotton is also less durable than wool.

Now here’s something that blew my mind when I found this out. You can bend cotton about 3,000 times before it breaks. Wool, on the other hand, can go over 20,000 bends before it breaks.

1.5 Worse for the environment

Finally cotton is actually worse for the environment compared to wool due to the huge amount of land and the huge amount of water that you need to yield a decent cotton crop. Cotton is also hydrophilic or water-loving which means that it loves to absorb water.

Now this could be a good thing depending on its use. If you’re looking at something like say a handkerchief which you’re wiping your brow with then that can be fine. But if it’s against your body like a shirt more than likely you’re gonna want something that wicks moisture away.

2.Wool

Wool is a protein fiber which means that it comes from an animal just like hair or fur. In this case of course we’re talking about sheep. Now the pros of

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📅︎ Aug 16 2021
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please help type me!

posted 5 october 2021, edited 23 april 2022. age, gender, description of myself. 17, female. i’m very mentally and physically i’ll so i had to take a break from school. (edit: i've gone back to school and am doing amazingly) i love playing video games and being online. i don’t really have many hobbies because nothing is that interesting to me. my (few) friends say i have a really good sense of humour and once you get to know me i’m really fun to talk to and be around. i love researching things that interest me (for example, i’ve been fixating on mbti for about a year or so). i stay at home most days (not so much anymore but i do prefer to stay home) and don’t do much since i’m not really capable, and i wouldn’t want to regardless.

medical diagnosis i have austim, adhd, depression, anxiety, social anxiety, chronic fatigue, and chronic pain.

upbringing & how it affected me. i had a catholic upbringing but it wasn’t extremely strict. i don’t think about it too much mainly because it doesn’t really play a major part in how i think and act now. my parents separated when i was about 10 and i lived with my mum full time. i was bullied a lot in school which gave me some trust issues, and now it’s really hard to form close relationships because i just don’t want to be bothered going through it all again.

i work at a fabric store like spotlight, but i hate it. it's boring and slow and mind numbing. i want to work at vans or at the doc martens store because i love fashion! i can't remember the question

spending a weekend by myself, would i feel lonely or refreshed? if i had to spend an entire weekend by myself i would feel extremely refreshed. i love spending time alone because i can do whatever i like without interruption or noise. i hate being around most people because they just annoy me. i spend 90% of my time alone and the other 10% with my mum or my one friend. (i have more friends now and spend lots of time with them but i still would rather be alone), spending time alone is a chance for me to collect my thoughts and relax, i’m free to listen to my music (listening to music is overstimulating now and too busy), or take a nap, or listen to the rain outside in silence. my room is my safe place and i would hate to be around people any more than i already am.

relation with movement and surroundings, so i prefer sports/outdoor events? if not what activities do i like i hate all sports and all outdoor events. physical activity is not my strong poin

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📰︎ r/MbtiTypeMe
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👤︎ u/injwected
📅︎ Oct 03 2021
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The Mad King of the Treemen - Chapter 2 - Looking for Work

Fiction

The Mad King of the Treemen (Arbolarbres Chronicles)

📷Fiction

The Mad King of the Tree-men fast-paced Progression Fantasy. (Here is the link to the story: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/46350/the-mad-king-of-the-treemen-arbolarbres-chronicles)

📷Self Promo

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/46350/the-mad-king-of-the-treemen-arbolarbres-chronicles

Formerly Knows as Conflict in Skyhigh

A young arbolarbre (Treeman) called Oak Quercus must stop his carnivorous mad King (Xidor Cedre) from sending his nation into a war to feed his gluttony for flesh and his sudden quest for immortality. The king having kidnapped his family for a strange purpose.

However, he will have to face opposition from his vegetarian countrymen with diverging opinions on how to stop the King's madness. He will have to do everything to rescue his family.

Discover it in the first book of the Arbolarbres chronicles

What to expect: Mc growing over time, great tragedy ending with plot twists along the way. Philosophical stakes, internal stakes and external stakes. It's a progression fantasy.

Context : Oak the MC has to pay a fine of 1000 floraux due to not paying his harvest taxes to the Mad King Xidor Cèdre or his family and him risk being sent to jail. He therefore has to look for work in town, which is hard for him because he never worked in his life.

Here is chapter 2:

Chapter 2: Looking for Work

Oak and his family returned to their farm with a heavy heart, their harvest had died under the yoke of disease. They had to pay a fine or languish behind bars. They had to put together a plan to solve this problem.

They abruptly opened the door and entered the house. They sat down at the solid cedar table without taking their shoes off.

John Quercus hit the table again with his fist. * Bang*

“Oak, you were responsible for watching over the fields during the downpour and ensure that no disease would spread. You will have to get us out of this mess, you are responsible for everything.. " He said icily.

Oak bit his lip then shrugged, a few drops of water from his white coat falling onto the table. " Sorry…. I don't know what to do ... I'll work harder on the farm.... "

John winced at the sight of the water spilling over the massive cedar. table. He pressed his foot hard on Oak's

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📰︎ r/stories
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📅︎ Nov 12 2021
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It is Friday already!

a aa aaa aaron ab abandoned abc aberdeen abilities ability able aboriginal abortion about above abraham abroad abs absence absent absolute absolutely absorption abstract abstracts abu abuse ac academic academics academy acc accent accept acceptable acceptance accepted accepting accepts access accessed accessibility accessible accessing accessories accessory accident accidents accommodate accommodation accommodations accompanied accompanying accomplish accomplished accordance according accordingly account accountability accounting accounts accreditation accredited accuracy accurate accurately accused acdbentity ace acer achieve achieved achievement achievements achieving acid acids acknowledge acknowledged acm acne acoustic acquire acquired acquisition acquisitions acre acres acrobat across acrylic act acting action actions activated activation active actively activists activities activity actor actors actress acts actual actually acute ad ada adam adams adaptation adapted adapter adapters adaptive adaptor add added addiction adding addition additional additionally additions address addressed addresses addressing adds adelaide adequate adidas adipex adjacent adjust adjustable adjusted adjustment adjustments admin administered administration administrative administrator administrators admission admissions admit admitted adobe adolescent adopt adopted adoption adrian ads adsl adult adults advance advanced advancement advances advantage advantages adventure adventures adverse advert advertise advertisement advertisements advertiser advertisers advertising advice advise advised advisor advisors advisory advocacy advocate adware ae aerial aerospace af affair affairs affect affected affecting affects affiliate affiliated affiliates affiliation afford affordable afghanistan afraid africa african after afternoon afterwards ag again against age aged agencies agency agenda agent agents ages aggregate aggressive aging ago agree agreed agreement agreements agrees agricultural agriculture ah ahead ai aid aids aim aimed aims air aircraft airfare airline airlines airplane airport airports aj ak aka al ala alabama alan alarm alaska albania albany albert alberta album albums albuquerque alcohol alert alerts alex alexander alexandria alfred algebra algeria algorithm algorithms ali alias alice alien align alignment alike alive all allah allan alleged allen allergy alliance allied allocated allocation allow allowance allowed allowing allows alloy almost alone along alot alpha

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📰︎ r/OneWordBan
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📅︎ Oct 29 2021
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What is Tassawuf (Sufism)?

Although Sufism is esoteric knowledge, most authors who have written books on Sufism have pretty much defined it in the exoteric light. They say that 'Sufism' is derived from the Arabic word, 'sof', meaning 'coarse woollen cloth' - relating to the physical attire of many Sufis.

However, here is a point to ponder. When the word itself refers to spiritual knowledge, how could 'Sufism' have etymological roots in something as superficial as a type of fabric? Anybody can wear wool, but doing so would not automatically make them a Sufi.

Shaykh Abdul Qadir Jilani (ra) said, 'The word ‘’Tassawuf’’ has been derived from the word, "As-safa", which means to purify one's inner being'.

In the book, Kashf ul Majoob, Data Ali Hajweri (ra) references a Prophetic Tradition narrated by Abul Hassan Noori which states that to completely remove the desires of one’s Lower Self is Sufism.

Elsewhere in Kashf ul Majoob, he quotes Abul Hassan Noori as saying, 'A Sufi is one who is neither under the control of anybody nor can anybody be controlled by him. A Sufi is neither the property of anybody nor does he make anyone his property; he is free'.

Zil Noor Misri said, 'Sufism removes the forces that are in opposition to the heart'.

There are 40-50 pages in the book Kashf al Majoob full of such narrations. One could read many books on Sufism but the chances are, they still would have no clue how to become a Sufi.

It is like saying, 'The great thing about a bicycle is that, with it, you don't have to walk'. This statement is understandable, but it does not explain anything about actually riding a bicycle.

For example, if somebody were to ask a professional cricketer for tips on batting, he might advise them to take their time in the crease in order to hit shots. It is solid advice, but that is the technique employed by somebody who is already a professional cricketer. This would not be what he had been doing ever since he started playing the sport. This is similar to how many books on Sufism approach the topic; they just talk about Sufis; they do not give practical instructions on how to become a Sufi.

The heart is the divine abode. Therefore, Sufism removes all God-opposing forces from the heart. This is supported by the following statement of Abu Bakr Shibli:

Page 80 of Kashf al Majoob, 'Sufism is when the heart does not look at anyone else for except God'.

How will the common man, who has the devil occupying his heart, benefit from this statement?

... keep reading on reddit ➡

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👤︎ u/FeedaG
📅︎ Nov 01 2021
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Myths regarding cleaning woollen rugs

Woollen is a natural and additionally attractive product and, for that reason, a recommended selection for carpetings. It's hard-wearing, warm, shields your home and likewise is also environmentally friendly. Get Vacate Carpet Cleaning from Canberra bond cleaning.

https://preview.redd.it/3n7l9qha96w71.jpg?width=850&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c68119edd15c2b1179af096cb95d3f31d07f0bb3

Great deals of individuals are frightened concerning the cleaning and upkeep of woollen carpeting, yet there's no need to be worried if you comply with some basic actions. Right here are some reassuring truths which will reveal to you precisely just how to appreciate your wool carpetings completely, as well as likewise obtain the longest, most wonderful life-span for your money.

Misconception 1

You should not wet-clean a woollen carpet as this will certainly damage it.

Truth:

This is not actual. Woollen is a sort of hair; in addition to like any hair, it can be safely cleaned with water. An in-depth water elimination is essential to preserve your woollen carpet in good condition. Nonetheless, a tidy is expertly carried out. Your carpeting will certainly gain from this.

False impression 2

Wet-cleaning your woollen carpets will create tightening.

Also read 18 Best Barber Shops in Perth

Reality:

Once again, this is unreal, and damages you may have checked out have arisen from sub-standard cleaning strategies and treatments. Wool can be appropriately tidied up with outstanding or lukewarm water. As woollen can take in a lot, a specialist technician will always avoid tidying up the carpeting with a cleaning solution.

Misconception 3

If you wet-clean woollen, the carpet will certainly transform brown.

Reality:

Once again, this myth has taken hold due to the results of bad cleaning techniques. Browning as a carpet dries out suggests that the rug was over-wetted throughout the neat: this can, after that, lead to the backing of the carpeting 'wicking back'. When the tidy has been performed to an excellent standard, this will not take place. Our experts will certainly evaluate a little in addition to the low-profile area of the carpeting before starting a complete tidy to ascertain that the fabric is colourfast. The wanted result of restoring vibrant colour can be acquired.

Misconception 4

Bleach must never before be made use of on wooll

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👤︎ u/vrdigital
📅︎ Oct 28 2021
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The /r/NavyBlazer guide to London

Hi guys, I have been browsing this subreddit for a few years now, and I have really learnt so much from the wealth of information available inside of it, so I have decided to give back and make a little guide to the city that I live in, in the hopes of making searching for clothes on your visit to London a little bit easier (You know, when the country actually reopens and travel is possible again)

#Drake’s

9 Savile Row

Drake’s is a brand that i'm sure most frequent /r/NB users will be familiar with, and for good reason. Since last year it has moved to a much larger shop around the corner on Savile Row. Originally a tie maker, with plenty of patterned, silk and grenadine options. Excellent OCBD shirt offerings, which I have found to be quite a lot heavier and thicker than Kamakura. Really lovely knitwear, such as their brushed shetland shaggy dog’s and the cashmere shawl knit cardigans, 3 roll 2 blazers and suits by the hordes. I could go on, but to save time it’s quicker to just say this is a must visit.

#Barbour

134 Long Acre Covent Garden & 73-77 Regent St

It’s Barbour, what do you want me to say? You come here to get your Bedale and Liddesdale. Much like seemingly everybody else in this sub, I actually get my barbour bits and pieces shipped from Cox the Saddler because it’s consistently quite a bit cheaper but I do often pop inside the Barbour shop to try things on for size and to browse around.

#Edward Green

75 Jermyn St

In my earnest opinion, Edward Green produces the finest ready to wear shoes available. Classic offerings include the Chelsea in the 202 last, for all your interview and black tie needs, and the Galway, arguably the quintessential country boot. Finally, the [Duke](https://www.edwardgreen.com/shop

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📰︎ r/NavyBlazer
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📅︎ Mar 06 2021
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Quernmore Dark Age Burial, the discovery of an ancient Oak coffin at Quernmore

Quernmore Dark Age Burial

In 1973 a dog walker, James Marshall, was walking his dog near Jubilee tower on the fells above the village of Quernmore. Recently builders had been constructing a car park for the tower, a popular local landmark and viewpoint, and had been removing peat with a digger.

Peculiar wooden artifacts

As he watched over his dog and looked around the building site he saw something peculiar sticking out of the ground that the digger had disturbed from the peat, upon further inspection it appeared to be a wooden canoe.

Realising that that this might be of some importance and interest to historians Mr Marshall contacted Lancaster City Museum, who came out to inspect the find, when they arrived and had a closer look, they found there was not one but two of the peculiar wooden canoe shaped artifacts, one had been crushed by the digger, but the second, the one Mr Marshall had spotted, was largely intact.

The team managed to save this artifact from further damage using the time-honoured technique of wrapping it in wet newspaper, further wrapped in plastic sheets to stop the moisture from evaporating, this method prevents ancient wood from splitting, disintegrating and turning into dust upon drying out. Then they carefully took the objects to their laboratory to examine them in a safe and controlled environment.

What the team discovered was that the two large pieces of wood were in fact both originally part of one object; an ancient coffin.

Ancient Coffin

The piece that James Marshall had found was the bottom half, the base, of the coffin, with the other half, the section that had been crushed by the digger, being the top half. Both parts are made out of the hollowed out trunk of an Oak tree and would have been originally pegged together, unfortunately the top half had already received significant damage due to penetration from the roots of [heathers](https://www.reddit.com/r/ForestofBowland/comments/ozcici/the_heather_on_the_moors/?utm_source=share&amp

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📅︎ Oct 01 2021
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Geirfa Ddefnyddiol Feunyddiol / Daily Useful Vocabulary

cyllell (b) ll. cyllyll - knife

cynghori (cynghor-) - to advise, to counsel

brethyn (g) ll. brethynnau - (woollen) cloth, fabric

lliain (g) ll. llieiniau - (cotton) cloth, linen

cynrychioli (cynrychiol-) - to represent

astudio (astudi-) - to study

bwrw (bwri-) - to throw, to cast

i'r dim - exactly, precisely, to a 't'

(y)sgytlaeth (g) ll. ?ysgytlaethau - milkshake

llawenydd (g) - joy, delight

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📰︎ r/learnwelsh
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📅︎ Sep 08 2021
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[Seamwork Jill] This coat was my Sunday afternoon. It was totally worth forgetting to eat.
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📰︎ r/sewing
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📅︎ Feb 19 2018
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Canadian farm wool: The best kept secret for thrifty and eco-conscious knitters?

I liked the discussion about embracing knitters who knit with acrylic yarn, and generally those who knit on a budget. I grew up in Southern Ontario; the home of Mary Maxim, Yarnspirations, the Listowel Yarn Factory Outlet Tent (web presence provided for amusement not utility), Cambridge Fibres Ltd. (link goes to Facebook, no other web presence), Len's Mill, and a host of other factories and stores that make and import tons of acrylic and blend yarns. In that area of Canada, we're spoiled with so many options for cheap mill-ends and mystery bags that you can't help but be drawn in by the accessibility of cheap, mostly artificial, yarn.

But then I moved out to Atlantic Canada and went into a fabric store chain called Atlantic Fabrics and discovered Briggs and Little Heritage for $5.97 CAD per 4oz skein of 100% Canadian wool in a ton of gorgeous colours. This chain has no online storefront (in 2020?!?), so unfortunately I'm not sure how anyone outside of Nova Scotia gets that price point. It's sold at a bunch of online retailers and small LYS, but the cheapest online option I found is yarncanada for $6.70 CAD, which is still a fantastic price for 215 yds of 100% Canadian wool.

A good "big brand" comparison like Patons Classic Wool Worsted is $6.99 CAD at Michaels for a smaller (3.5 oz) ball with limited stock, or $9.99 CAD at Yarnspirations for a wider colour selection. Patons Classic Wool yarn is mostly made in India and imported.

The Grocery Girls mentioned Camilla Valley Farm on their video today and I noticed this on the page for their yarn that is very similar to Briggs and Little Heritage:

>This Worsted weight 2-ply yarn is a staple of many of the small family run spinning mills scattered across Canada. The smaller size of these mills have allowed them to survive a difficult time in the textile industry when bigger mills have gone bankrupt. The wool is prepared without the abrasive cleaning process used in many commercial mills and as a result the yarn retains the sheep's natural lanolin.

That led me to wonder how many of these small mills producing this type of yarn, apparently characteristic of Canada, exist today and whether

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📰︎ r/knitting
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📅︎ Dec 03 2020
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Four finger life hacks

I have four fingers on both hands and so to get round the glove problem I usually buy woollen ones and sew up the spare finger and cut off the extra fabric. Do any of you have other 'life hacks' for your hands?

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📅︎ Jul 14 2021
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England's First Murder By Gun - Who Shot Robert Pakington in 1536?

I’m back with another curious mystery from London that I’m fairly sure hasn’t been covered here before. I’m a historian and the Tudor period, particularly the Henrican Reformation, was my specialty at degree. It’s got guns, clerical reform, and the first ever murder committed with a handgun in England.

Who Was Robert Pakington?

Robert Pakington was born to John Pakington and Elizabeth Washborne in a village called Stanforn-in-Teme. The village is in the county of Worcestershire, which is part of the West Midlands, and located not far from the Welsh border. His date of birth is not precisely known, being estimated around 1489 to fit in with later details we know of his life.

The family had a long lineage of genteel origin, the line stretching all the way back to the reign of Henry I. Elizabeth Washborne was an heiress that brought wealth to the Pakington family, and her and John would produce a large family. They would have four sons (John, Humphrey, Robert, Augustine) and three daughters (Joyce, Eleanor, and Margery). Money and influence was clearly spent on educating their children and putting them in the most favourable positions possible. The eldest son, John, would go on to become a lawyer and take a position at court, rising so high in Henry VIII’s favour that he was granted special permission to wear his hat in the presence of the king.

Robert was sent away at a young age to be an apprentice for the Mercer’s Company in London. This was entirely normal. Living with another household was important in the education of any young person, giving them vital social connections, a polish on their manners, as well as educating them in a trade. The Mercer’s Company was a guild and trade association for merchants, but most especially for those trading in fabrics such as wool, velvet, and silk. Wool fabric was the backbone of the English economy. Widely considered to be the finest fabric in Europe and generated huge amounts of wealth for an emerging merchant class that would become hugely influential throughout the sixteenth century.

Guilds were like a mixture of trade unions and secret societies. They would hold the secrets of their trade to members and their families, controlling trade standards and techniques, but also operated as communities of like-minded families. They would put on events, masques, parades, and care for the families of members who fell into destitution. Robert was clearly a respected member of the company as he worked as a Ward

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💬︎
📅︎ Oct 20 2020
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Uses for fabric scraps

Sewing is not a zero-waste activity, but there are tips that will, as the sub description suggests, minimize the environmental impact. Someone was asking recently about what to do with very small pieces of fabric that can’t be used for a project or donated. I use them to stuff objects that need to keep a certain shape, like handbags, shoes and hats. Many hats need to be stored upside down, so use the fabric scraps to support the brim so that it doesn’t droop in storage. You can also spray the scraps with lavender to store with your lingerie or linens, or spray them with cedar to store with woollens. Even the smallest scraps can be used up this way.

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📰︎ r/ZeroWaste
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📅︎ May 23 2021
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There’s an underpass in my city that supposedly leads to Hell. Something lured my best friend inside.

There is nothing inherently sinister about the underpass in the city centre.

Not in the daytime, anyway. It’s simply a convenient route for pedestrians who need to cross the busy road above; mostly professionals in suits and people wishing to visit the park or museum. Sure, it’s always a bit cold inside, the walls are covered in graffiti, and the floor is perpetually damp, but at least the council have tried to brighten it up with murals depicting scenes from the city’s history. If you walked through the underpass in broad daylight, you’d never think there was anything to be scared of.

Even in the dark, it’s no more unsettling than any other pedestrian underpass in any other city. Maybe the harsh fluorescent lights make the place seem slightly eerie, but the only danger you’re likely to encounter is another human being who has had too much to drink- if you even encounter anyone at all. You see, most locals avoid that underpass at night because of a decades-old superstition:

That it was built on a gateway to Hell.

I don’t know how it started, but the legend has apparently surrounded the underpass ever since it was built in the 1960s. Generations of teenagers have dared each other to walk through that chilly, damp tunnel in the dark, all of them reporting an inexplicable feeling of dread that gripped them as soon as they set foot inside.

Personally, I never believed there was anything wrong with the underpass. It was just another urban myth. Every town has one. Of course, there have been plenty of missing persons cases over the years, but that’s to be expected in a city of this size, and very few of them could be definitively linked to the underpass. It wasn’t until September 2018, when I was out celebrating my twenty-first birthday, that I was forced to accept there may be some truth to the stories.

The night had started off perfectly. My friends and I had pre-drinks at my house before heading into the city centre by train, and I was feeling nicely buzzed by the time we arrived at our favourite nightclub. We’d frequented that particular place ever since we turned eighteen, mostly because the drinks were cheap and it was usually lively whatever day of the week it was. That night was no exception; it was Friday, and people were packed in like sardines.

My best friend Chloe and I left the others on the dancefloor while we squeezed our way through the solid blockade of people surrounding the bar. Someone in front of me turned to move away after receiving

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📰︎ r/nosleep
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👤︎ u/Lo_Vic
📅︎ Apr 30 2021
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The truth behind me and kilts

I don't know why or what, it started with some overly optimistic hypnapomic thoughts a few days, maybe a few weeks ago, i don't know exactly what happened or why, but kilts got stuck on my mind, maybe because i'm 1/3 irish and a vintage enthusiast, i've always liked victorian suits and all that, and traditional country clothing, yet it's never dawned to me to wear a kilt til now, maybe all those celtic thunder concerts i watched on youtube just went inside me.

So for the last few days i've been subbed to /r/kilt and /r/kilts, learning about the different kinds, modern and traditional, now i'm a straight person, have no interest in other males, kilted or not, and no obsession of that kind with kilts, i guess my obsession with ireland and celtic culture in general has reached its peak, especially with St Patricks day just a few days away

But despite being subbed to those subs, i've never even touched a kilt in my life, let alone owned or wore one, i was bought up with trousers, and i don't think i can change that, not even so many years later in my late teens, besides, the idea of wearing a kilt with nothing underneath just isn't for me, i would feel so exposed, the psycological uncomfort would defeat what comfort there would be from wearing one, i'd have to wear something underneath, no doubt, a pair of shorts or something.

Yet i don't think i'll get to the point of even owning one, even if i pulled out all the stops tomorrow, bought myself the most expensive, traditional woollen kilt i could find, not only would my parents likely tell me that i wasted my money, but would probably wonder why i wanted to wear or even own such a thing in the first place, that kind of criticism, even out of curiosity, i do not like, and even though it's my choice, it makes me glad i managed to get so far with my clothing choices as it is, my parent's aren't outright controlling but they want to be in on everything i buy to wear.

And it wouldn't just be my parents but everyone i know and the general public, i gain attention as it is, it's mostly positive and i don't care what people think, but i believe the day when someone thinks i'm part of a clan, or even LGBT for wearing a kilt, i think is the day where i would have gone too far.

But it's not just kilts, there's plenty of things in my life i desired but never got, and may even never will, what about the smoking jacket i wanted? the Jaguar XJ? a working typewriter, a harris tweed waistcoat that actually fit

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👍︎ 5
📰︎ r/kilt
💬︎
📅︎ Mar 15 2021
🚨︎ report
I'm Never Going into the Woods Again- Part 2 (Final)

Part 1

It was sprinting towards me

It was sprinting on two legs

I immediately snapped out of my haze. My brain lit up and I felt like I'd just been struck by lightning. I heard it running, hitting tree branches as it went, but what was worse was the noise it was making it was screaming like a human. It sounded like a woman wailing at the loss of her child, but angrier, and it had an inherent animalistic quality to it.

I turned around and lept into the tent. I knew it wouldn't do anything to protect me, but I knew I couldn't outrun it and it was better than nothing, especially since I wasn't thinking straight in the first place.

I dove into the corner of my small log tent, a gasoline storm lantern filling the room with a warm, yellow light. Next to me was my gear. Pots and pans, and my emergency signal gear, including a sat phone, compass, maps, and signalling devices, including several flares. I could hear it still, getting closer and closer. I was shaking so hard I could barely hold my rifle. I trained it at the flaps, and then, silence. Dead silence. The wind had stopped, there were no rustling leaves, no sounds of footsteps.

Then I heard it breathe. Quietly at first, and then louder and louder as it came closer. It sounded wrong, like this was the first time it had ever needed to take a breath, like it was just doing it to torment me. It breathed slowly, raspy sounds at it breathed in and something like a moaning sound when it breathed out, like several people crying out from the depths of its throat.

Its footsteps grew louder. Every step made my body jolt and tense up, the twigs and leaves beneath its feet being pulverised like they were under immense weight. As it got closer, the smell grew fouler. Like death. I tried to breathe through my mouth, but even that made me gag and I threw up bright yellow bile on the floor.

I could still hear its terrible breathing, but it had stopped moving. My eyes were filled with tears from throwing up, blurring everything. The breathing was louder than ever, the moaning sounding more like screaming now. I used the sleeve of my woollen anorak to wipe my eyes and my face. I blinked and blinked until I could see again.

I saw something at the top of my vision, a slender arm, seemingly unending, twisted and snaked through the flaps of the door and held it open. I brought

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👍︎ 22
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
👤︎ u/MrWillje
📅︎ Aug 06 2021
🚨︎ report
[OC] Welcome to Sternwater - a Hamlet ready for you to "drag & drop" into your Campaign.

"A lone, mud-caked road, like a gnarled goblin arrow, cuts through the charcoal mists and peat stinking hamlet of Sternwater.

Around the small puddle-pocked, manure sodden market square clings tightly a handful of low-roofed, ramshackle thatched abodes, like jaundiced, balding golems about a measly, rain-soused fire.

The only sounds you hear are the lacklustre clanks of a blacksmith’s hammer, the grim call of crows in the damp leafless trees, the rhythmic back-and-forth of a carpenter’s saw through a sodden log, and the vile squealing of half-starved boar that wander aimlessly from muck-caked doorstep to boot trampled yard.

The ragged, filthy villagers eye you with suspicion as you arrive - some even hurry their pale, curious children indoors. Worn and pock-marked faces spit scowls and stares towards you, as nearby a gaggle of rake-thin farmers struggle to push a hand-cart loaded with half-rotten turnips through the boggy mud, stopping only to spit or howl at the lone individual bruised and bound with hempen rags to a broken cartwheel at the hamlet’s edge - a scrawled wooden plank about their neck proclaiming them guilty of 'foulness with a hound most bedraggled and the theft of one onion.'"

Local Economy : Locals subsist largely on a barter and exchange system of trade, offering a mended rake for a half-loaf of rye-bread, or a bundle of holly branches for a pitcher of tar.

Very little in the way of coin sways any beyond the Tavern Keep and the hamlet’s Reeve.

Imports : Simple cloth and fabric. Unsuspecting outsiders and lost, weary travellers, as well as the occasional travelling merchant bringing small wares to trade.

Exports : Lycanthropy of the rodent kind. Mud. Disdain. Turnip Ale tainted with something … strange.

Housing : Single-storey, one room cottages with low thatched roofs, bordered by narrow kitchen-gardens in which residents struggle to grow anything beyond bedraggled weeds and stinking mulch.

One residence, however, stands tall - that of the Reeve whom, from his second-storey balcony, watches all and yet sees very little.

Hierarchy & Political Structure : A single figure, the Reeve, appears to lord over the small hamlet. His portly belly tells of a plump pantry, and his many medals and rosettes display his grim pomp for all to see. There is no guard, nor soldiery, and the hamlet’s residents dole out their own bedraggled justices as their bitter whims see fit, or as the cruel majority dictates.

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 18
📰︎ r/DnD
💬︎
📅︎ Mar 26
🚨︎ report
The Green Light

The old house on Olympic Avenue watched me menacingly every day as I walked to my bus stop. I always quickened my pace as I reached the old house, not wanting to remain too long in its sight. Its baleful aura made my arms break out in gooseflesh, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I made my way past it to the bus stop on the next corner.

I tried not to meet the gaze of the hulking cyclops; its sickly green eye made me uncomfortable.

A previous owner had replaced the porch bulb with a green one. It remained day after day, year after year, the green glow unable to chase back the shadows the way the comforting yellow lights of the surrounding homes did. It must have been a pleasant shade of green once—no sane person would purposely choose such a disquieting color. It was the greasy green of those quick, skittering spiders that lurked in my kitchen when the weather turned. The fuzzy green that grew on long-forgotten leftovers in the deep recesses of my refrigerator. The slimy, slick green film on my pond after weeks of neglect.

The feeling of dread was always present, although it was worse in the cold winter months as I passed the house in darkness, both on my way to and from my office downtown. The house itself was timeless, built a century ago. In the ‘50s, developers bought up the surrounding farmland and hemmed in the old house on all sides with cookie-cutter ramblers, thrown up quickly and cheaply to cash in on the baby boom and suburban migration. The stately old home must have seemed like a queen among her more common courtiers, set back from the road with the ancient maple tree in the yard. Now, it sat empty and forgotten; even the “For Sale” sign taped to the window was faded and weatherworn. Each year that gnarled old maple disgorged its leaves across the unkempt yard as it leaned drunkenly toward the street.

The house had been empty for at least the ten years I had lived nearby; however, the state of decay implied it had fallen into disrepair much earlier. Once lush, the lawn was now hardscrabble; only the hardiest weeds could find purchase there. The cracked walkway lurched and dipped where the maple’s roots had forced their way underneath. The rotted porch sagged, its paint peeling like strips of mummified skin. I wondered why the power company hadn’t cut off the power to that miasmic beacon. And how had that awful bulb not burned out years ago? As much as I tried to ignore the green light, I couldn’t avoid it. Once

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 12
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
📅︎ Jan 03
🚨︎ report

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