Over the last few years, I've leapt on any unattended loom in my vicinity and relished weaving. But I knew that a loom of my own was a long way off. Extra-wide, 8-shaft countermarch looms aren't cheap, or that readily available on this side of the Irish Sea.
and delapidated after 30 years in a stable, it had lost its voice.
But I treated her wounds, painted her metal-work gold, and gave her a new coat of blue.
Missing pieces were replaced using reclaimed mill bobbins and timber.
And lace bobbins now adorn her limbs.
Spare findings hang in her basket.
We've a way to go. The weavers amongst you will spot that the harnesses are hanging too high and need adjustment; and that my tension in the 30-year old warp that was on her isn't even.
But Rome wasn't built in a day. And wings take a while to get back their strength. And one day, I plan to turn her into an 8-shaft too.
But for now, in the early-morning autumnal mornings, she and I are humming away together, enjoying our new friendship and getting to know each other; making our new slice of Ulster history.