I gave that one above some serious consideration, but I keep wanting to fall sideways off my chair when I look at it, so I don’t think it’ll do at all.
The one below is much more sensible, and possibly more believeable.

In the olden days wizened auld wifies of the Hebrides would hunch over their weaving doodahs and do technical things (look, it’s 2am, I’m not researching this to get the right words, so hush now) with thread in the hope of making a pleasing sample of new tartan for the evil clan chieftan to hopefully approve of, or it was back to the cliffs to look for puffin eggs with nothing but a pair of clogs as protection for her and her family.
These days, you can just click on here or here and you’re a virtual weaver, just without the physical hardship and constant threat of violence or eviction. Or cattle rustling, well, I am a Macfarlane after all.

Anyway, I’m thinking of redecorating the place with one of these lovely purpley tartans that i spent simply ages designing.
Must be easier on the eye that all that orange.