The craft group was a buzz, with gossip and clacking. The faces were smiling, as they spoke of what ailed them. The loved their needles, the loved their wool, and they were proud to gather, at the local town hall. Mavis was late; it was noted by most, what could be the matter? Some did question, while others did boast.
The door swung open with such a kaboom, that everything stopped dead in the noisy room. Not a jaw moved, as Mavis swayed in, her hair all messy, and her clothes smelling of gin. “Sorry I’m late, I had a slight mishap, but my time was vital, don’t worry ‘bout this crap.”
She sat at the table, undid her pack, took out her cotton and began to tat. She told her tale, reason for her disarray, had everyone in stitches, as they left that day! Moral of this story... Birds Of A Feather Flock Together!