Fanny Price

I have my 36” LeClerc Fanny loom, since October 5^th. Nothing came of my notices or my ads on two internet sites, although one local weaver took in on spec the exact loom I wanted, and I must bring six hundred in cash because she had to “pay the woman”. Some weavers are scalawags, too, but I think fewer than the general population.

I was a little grumpy about not finding a Fanny at once, and River emailed me, “Why don’t you try Kijiji? Look how many I found just in Canada!” River lives in Australia. Such a world. Of course, Canada. The looms are made in Quebec.

I emailed four sellers in Ontario and received two responses. One would get back to me when he returned from vacation, the other answered the loom was still available. I asked for pictures, Mark responded at once with about twenty. He lived about a six hour drive from my home, but offered to meet me essentially on the other side of the Peace Bridge on October 5^th, at a hockey arena where his son had a meet.

A deposit to hold it seemed in order, but Mark declined. No, we would just meet in the parking lot and make the exchange. Because my notes on who I emailed and what was on offer were growing illegible I emailed Mark the last week before the meet, “Please confirm I need to bring $400 Canadian to pay you.”

Mark’s response: “I would take 400, but I’m only asking 150.”

With two shiny new one hundred dollar Canadian bills in my wallet I left for Canada that Sunday morning.  I could not tell Border Patrol where I was going except to a hockey arena not far away, to pick up my loom. He smiled and waved me through.

The nice young hockey dad in the black station wagon pulled into the parking area just ahead of me. He transferred the beautifully disassembled loom into my car. His wife bought it used, several years ago, never used it. I wonder if it was used more than once. It had the remnants of its last warp tied to the back apron, but the brake that is held open by a butterfly device to warp had no marks. Who knows? I think it’s a 1970’s or ‘80’s vintage loom, but haven’t researched the serial number yet.

Mark wanted to give me change, but I shook his hand, thanked him for the beautiful job he did in transporting the loom and was on my way. Border Patrol looked down at the stack of wood in the back of my car and asked what it was. “A loom,” I replied. “Ah, a weaver?” She waved me through. I was back home by supper time.

Fanny Price is the perfect name for my loom.

In a pile.

Jan and Tom, assembling.

Joanne and Tom assembling.

It's a long way to the floor these days.

Well begun.

Waiting the arrival of the sectional beam.

Installing the sectional.

I needed gardening gloves with rubber bumps to get enough traction on the screwdriver!

Ready to put on a warp.

Technically, that's called "dressing the loom."

Twenty yards of warp, more or less.

Those silver flanges on the last bout dressed are the thread guides.

Over the back beam, ready to thread the heddles.

I threaded almost all the heddles before I quit for the day.

Come back tomorrow for M's and O's

and what I hope to do with them.