Through the heatwave, it's odor hit me in the face, and I noticed it for the first time.
Why is it, that I dedicate my life to beautiful textiles, and let this foul creature, grow and rot in my sink? The guilt was mind blowing.
A friend said to me that cleaning things was the best place to start when the rest of the world seems over whelming. It seemed this monster of a dishcloth could be the savior of the day.Gathering strength, I put it in the washing machine.
It came out it smelling feather soft, but still skew whiff, and in need of a make over.
I chopped off it's wonky seams, and ironed it, then punched holes around the edges with a knitting needle to make a foundation for a Herdwick crochet border.
Herdwick is a tough, all weather wool, which is grey to start with, so there's no need to worry about it dying in dregs. Herdwick sheep live on the lake district fells, a much more punishing climate than my kitchen.
I've enjoyed being in the kitchen more since I bonded with the dishcloth. It has been promoted to wiping trays, and is hung out to dry in prime position. 
Dishcloth has arrived, and is most welcome. x
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