There’s a draftiness to the interior of the shop which has its perks when the weather gets warmer. In the winter we layer up against the cold air which has an almost permanent residence in the lofty high cielings, but that same chill offers a welcome escape from the intensity of the summer heat which bounces off the bricks and other built surfaces of Lower Clapton Road outside in the summer. That’s until the point when London becomes so hot – as it has this week – when even the cool air in the furthest reaches of our high cielings, gets defeated. We fetch the oscilating fan down from its high shelf in the back of the shop. It makes that familiar whirr, and together with the heat, I know that the shop has switched gear, settling into a slower, sleepier mode. In my head it’s a sort of hot-weather version of what happens in the north of Scandinavian countries when the winter darkness settles in, and a hibernating quietness takes over. Knitters browse in a more introspective way. Their visits to the shop are as likely to be fuelled by a whimsical wandering-by as a deliberate move to find supplies for a specific project. And whatever the outcome of their being here, there’s an unspoken agreement between us all that it’s going to take a while.

Inasmuch as ours is a winter sport, the comedy of running a wool shop during a London heat wave is not lost on me. It has been mentioned more than once that I might do better by switching over to peddling ice creams instead of balls of wool, but there’s also a way in which the nicheness of what we do and which is so integral to what I love about the shop, just gets even nichier. Summer knitters are a pretty special type. You’ve reached a rare and awesome stage in your life as a knitter when you can transcend the 30° outside and walk into a wool shop to get excited by the alpaca wool mohair blend yarn by West Yorkshire spinners which will substitute perfectly for the faffy 3 stranded recommended yarns in the Robinia sweater. These are the ones who think about what to knit next, not in spite of the summer, but almost because of it. Perhaps it’s got to do with the way that knitting fits into the time and space available to us. A slower pace coupled with actual holiday time means that we can luxuriate in an abundance of both, or at least more than is usually available in the winter.

You might be the only one in your group of holiday pals who’s eeking out space in your hand luggage for just-in-case extra skeins of yarn, but there’s a small shop on Lower Clapton Road in East London, where that doesn’t seem weird at all. In fact we get it. We totally do.