Dear Clan,
Last night was what Dr Thomas calls The Consultants' Club Summer Party.
I call it Consultants' Night Out.
Same thing. Different branding.
Now, every year the consultants from Dr Thomas’s hospital gather somewhere terribly grand, bring their husbands, wives and partners, and spend an evening with seriously clever people.
Over the years we've found ourselves in some rather magnificent places. We've wandered through the gardens of Lambeth Palace, admired the grandeur of Chiswick House, stood aboard the Cutty Sark, and enjoyed evenings at the Inner Temple.
This year?
Lincoln's Inn.
Good grief.
What a building.
Huge halls. Ancient stone. Portraits everywhere.
One of those buildings that reminds you just how young London can make you feel.
A multitude of portraits of very serious-looking medieval gentlemen lined the walls, each appearing to have spent several hundred years perfecting the expression:
"Who let the wool shop owner in wearing a tuxedo?"
There I was, standing beneath them in black tie. My best Bib and Tucker.
A boy from rural Northern Ireland.
Owner of an online wool shop.
Trying to look as though I belonged.
The portraits remained unconvinced.
Now normally, when I find myself somewhere unfamiliar, I bring knitting.
Knitting is a social security blanket.
You can always rely on a sock.
But this was black tie.
Apparently producing a ball of yarn during the welcome drinks is considered "not the done thing."
I know.
I was disappointed too.
So instead I attempted conversation.
Doctors are fascinating people.
Incredibly bright.
Deeply committed.
Capable of discussing things I barely understand.
At one point I listened to a conversation for ten minutes before realising I didn't know whether they were discussing a patient, a research paper, or a new species of tropical fish.
I smiled politely throughout.
I suspect nobody noticed.
Meanwhile, Dr Thomas disappeared almost immediately into a circle of consultants discussing medicine.
Every so often he would reappear to check I was still alive before vanishing again into another conversation involving words with too many syllables.
I spent most of the evening wondering whether the portraits were following me around the room.
The dance floor, meanwhile, remained gloriously underused.
Let's just say nobody will be troubling Strictly Come Dancing next season.
Although after a glass of wine I was briefly convinced I could.
Mercifully, Dr Thomas intervened.
Back at McIntosh Central, life continues at full speed.
In just two weeks' time Dr Thomas and I are heading off on holiday.
A cruise.
Which means both of us are currently trying to complete approximately six months of work in fourteen days.
The Autumn/Winter collections launch in around ten days.
AUTUMN/WINTER.
I know.
I can barely believe it either.
The samples arriving this season are absolutely stunning and I cannot wait to show them to you.
At the same time, I've been working on what I call McIntosh 2.0.
The new website.
Eighteen months of work.
Eighteen months!
I've listened carefully to everything you've told me over the years.
Products are grouped together more intelligently.
Search is dramatically better.
Navigation is easier.
Finding matching items is easier.
In short, I'm trying to make the website feel more like walking into a really good yarn shop and less like rummaging through a cupboard under the stairs.
But before it launches, I'd love to hear from you.
What would you like to see?
Is there anything that drives you mad on yarn websites?
Any features you wish existed?
Any brands you'd love McIntosh to sell?
The best ideas often come from the McIntosh Clan.
Right.
I'm off.
There are Autumn/Winter launches to prepare, website pages to build, yarn to photograph and a cruise countdown to obsess over.
And if anyone knows whether it is socially acceptable to knit at a black-tie medical event, please do let me know.
I feel I may have missed an opportunity.
After all, a stitch in time saved my mind.
With all best wishes,
James
James McIntosh - the one man band that is McIntosh and Dr Thomas my sidekick!
