I have been fascinated by fabrics and needlecraft since I was a small child. I remember being sat on the floor in my Grandfathers house laying coloured tissues over my dolls in an attempt to fashion them some rainbow outfits. I was probably 3 or 4 years old. I can remember my Mum telling me off for wasting tissues, but my lovely Grandad saying to let me be, I was obviously happy.
A few years later, my most treasured possession was a paper bag filled with tiny fabric scraps, a reel of thread and a needle. I was convinced I could stitch all these tiny scraps together into something beautiful.
My Mother wasn't a seamstress, she could knit and taught me when I was very young. I loved that she knitted all my dolls clothes, but wished I had someone to teach me how to sew.
When I was probably 12, My Mum bought me a subscription for one of those monthly collect a series sewing courses. It was aimed at young teens, I think very probably a promotional leaflet came inside a copy of Blue Jeans, Patches or Jackie!
I think it was called New Look, and each month a new sewing and knitting pattern would pop through my letterbox, ready to be filed away in the ring binder.
I didn't own a sewing machine then, but I read, and re read every instruction booklet for every pattern, and even sewed myself a dress entirely by hand. A simple slash neck dress with batwing sleeves, only two pattern pieces, front and back.
I used some green plaid cotton with a little gold thread woven through it. I remember sitting on my bed painstakingly sewing the seams with a tiny back stitch, and once it was finished, rushing around to see my friend (already a pretty accomplished seamstress.) wearing it proudly.
I eventually learnt to sew at school. My school needlework teacher , Mrs Geddes was easily one of my favourite teachers. I loved lessons tucked away in her classroom. She was very thorough, and taught me the value of good preparation, and of practising a skill.After completing an O Level in needlework, I decided to continue to A level, Needlework and Dress. I believe it was an A level that was discontinued the year after I took it. I guess it was quite an old fashioned A Level, but the basics of good dressmaking, I don't believe ever go out of fashion. I do think it's a shame those basics are not well taught anymore. I honestly despair at the "Textiles" lessons my children have so far received at high school.
My A level lessons were a cosy affair, only three of us took the course, and Mrs Geddes would often have taught a cookery class before our lesson, and would bring along treats like scones, all with cups of tea, in a cup and saucer of course! (She did make sure we had these treats at a separate table to our work.)
Even during practical exams, she'd make us a welcome cup of tea.
During my time in the sixth form, I was fairly experimental with my clothes, make up and especially my hair. I was briefly banned from attending school assemblies because my mohican (which I wore braided .) was considered a poor example for the younger pupils in the school.I was also banned from a school trip because of the length of my skirts.
Mrs Geddes, a woman of a certain age who invariably dressed in tweed skirts and twinsets however, never batted an eyelid at my fashion or hair choices, and I loved her for that.
These days when I sew, I have the wise words of Mrs Geddes in my head. Sometimes, when I cut corners, or skip something I really know I shouldn't I can feel her mild disapproval, which is why I called this blog Lazy Seamstress in the first place.
I am grateful for the good grounding in dressmaking skills that Mrs Geddes passed on to me. I think good habits and skills are a gift, and sometimes allow me to cut the occasional corner, and I hope Mrs Geddes would agree if she were here to see.
So, why am I blathering on about my old Needlework teacher and basic skills? Simple really, I'm thinking of running a mini series on here, of back to basics for all aspiring seamstress'.
I haven't bothered before because I'm fairly sure this has already been covered in the world wide web, probably in a million ways already, but why not eh? I'm lucky to have been taught well. I'm not the worlds best seamstress, I still have plenty to learn, but I hope I can pass on a little of my skills and knowledge to someone out there. I will be combining the basics taught to me so well at school, with my own experience and personal opinion.
Back To Basics will start with the very basics, of choosing a sewing machine and organising your sewing space. Watch this space.
A few years later, my most treasured possession was a paper bag filled with tiny fabric scraps, a reel of thread and a needle. I was convinced I could stitch all these tiny scraps together into something beautiful.
My Mother wasn't a seamstress, she could knit and taught me when I was very young. I loved that she knitted all my dolls clothes, but wished I had someone to teach me how to sew.
When I was probably 12, My Mum bought me a subscription for one of those monthly collect a series sewing courses. It was aimed at young teens, I think very probably a promotional leaflet came inside a copy of Blue Jeans, Patches or Jackie!
I think it was called New Look, and each month a new sewing and knitting pattern would pop through my letterbox, ready to be filed away in the ring binder.
I didn't own a sewing machine then, but I read, and re read every instruction booklet for every pattern, and even sewed myself a dress entirely by hand. A simple slash neck dress with batwing sleeves, only two pattern pieces, front and back.
I used some green plaid cotton with a little gold thread woven through it. I remember sitting on my bed painstakingly sewing the seams with a tiny back stitch, and once it was finished, rushing around to see my friend (already a pretty accomplished seamstress.) wearing it proudly.
I eventually learnt to sew at school. My school needlework teacher , Mrs Geddes was easily one of my favourite teachers. I loved lessons tucked away in her classroom. She was very thorough, and taught me the value of good preparation, and of practising a skill.After completing an O Level in needlework, I decided to continue to A level, Needlework and Dress. I believe it was an A level that was discontinued the year after I took it. I guess it was quite an old fashioned A Level, but the basics of good dressmaking, I don't believe ever go out of fashion. I do think it's a shame those basics are not well taught anymore. I honestly despair at the "Textiles" lessons my children have so far received at high school.
My A level lessons were a cosy affair, only three of us took the course, and Mrs Geddes would often have taught a cookery class before our lesson, and would bring along treats like scones, all with cups of tea, in a cup and saucer of course! (She did make sure we had these treats at a separate table to our work.)
Even during practical exams, she'd make us a welcome cup of tea.
During my time in the sixth form, I was fairly experimental with my clothes, make up and especially my hair. I was briefly banned from attending school assemblies because my mohican (which I wore braided .) was considered a poor example for the younger pupils in the school.I was also banned from a school trip because of the length of my skirts.
Mrs Geddes, a woman of a certain age who invariably dressed in tweed skirts and twinsets however, never batted an eyelid at my fashion or hair choices, and I loved her for that.
These days when I sew, I have the wise words of Mrs Geddes in my head. Sometimes, when I cut corners, or skip something I really know I shouldn't I can feel her mild disapproval, which is why I called this blog Lazy Seamstress in the first place.
I am grateful for the good grounding in dressmaking skills that Mrs Geddes passed on to me. I think good habits and skills are a gift, and sometimes allow me to cut the occasional corner, and I hope Mrs Geddes would agree if she were here to see.
So, why am I blathering on about my old Needlework teacher and basic skills? Simple really, I'm thinking of running a mini series on here, of back to basics for all aspiring seamstress'.
I haven't bothered before because I'm fairly sure this has already been covered in the world wide web, probably in a million ways already, but why not eh? I'm lucky to have been taught well. I'm not the worlds best seamstress, I still have plenty to learn, but I hope I can pass on a little of my skills and knowledge to someone out there. I will be combining the basics taught to me so well at school, with my own experience and personal opinion.
Back To Basics will start with the very basics, of choosing a sewing machine and organising your sewing space. Watch this space.
This week is all about simple pleasures. Nursery Rhymes with Ernest.
A beautiful sunset on my way home from school
A bowl full of flowering spring bulbs.
And finally a day spent with some of my lovliest friends. On Friday we had an LLL planning meeting here at mine, not everyone could make it and some had to leave because of the snow, but the rest of us managed to throw together a bit of lunch, and washed it down with lots of tea.
No piccies of that though I'm afraid.
This isn't as easy as it might seem. I've had a good, busy week. Only four more to go till half term!
First pic is of my new bracelet. Sometimes, in my more melancholic moments I type "Florence" into the search box on Etsy, and that's how I found this bracelet. It's child sized, but luckily I have small wrists.
Second photo is Ernest caught on camera in a quiet moment. Quiet moments are usually something to be very suspicious of, but this time I found him simply engrossed in play.
He's changing so much now, and so quickly too, growing into a little boy with a big imagination.
Some days he's a dragon, or a cat, or a rabbit. Sometimes there are dinosaurs at the front door, or dragons sat on the kitchen table.
Third pic is kinda cheating, but it's taken with our new camera,(as are all the photos in this post) and that's something to be happy about....or it will be when I get a chance to get to know it properly.
Finally, Eden turned 14 on Wednesday, and we had Birthday trifle, you can't be sad when there is trifle to be eaten!
First pic is of my new bracelet. Sometimes, in my more melancholic moments I type "Florence" into the search box on Etsy, and that's how I found this bracelet. It's child sized, but luckily I have small wrists.
Second photo is Ernest caught on camera in a quiet moment. Quiet moments are usually something to be very suspicious of, but this time I found him simply engrossed in play.
He's changing so much now, and so quickly too, growing into a little boy with a big imagination.
Some days he's a dragon, or a cat, or a rabbit. Sometimes there are dinosaurs at the front door, or dragons sat on the kitchen table.
Third pic is kinda cheating, but it's taken with our new camera,(as are all the photos in this post) and that's something to be happy about....or it will be when I get a chance to get to know it properly.
Finally, Eden turned 14 on Wednesday, and we had Birthday trifle, you can't be sad when there is trifle to be eaten!
I'm stealing this idea from the lovely Victoria, at Yarn Round Hook.
I usually gently roll my eyes at ideas like these, only gently and with a kind of envy of the simplicity of the idea.
I don't really think of myself as a pessimist, but I am cynical, more so since Florence was born, and more afraid of what the universe might have in store for us next.
I think this might be good for me though. I do recognise the happy in my life, but maybe recognising it publicly will do some good...can you tell I'm still fairly cynical?
Here goes anyway, four photos that illustrate the happy in week one of 2013.
Firstly a middle of the day bath time. Something that might usually be inconvenient and knock out my busy schedule, but when Ernest needed a middle of the day bath after an exploding nappy incident the other day, I decided to simply embrace it.
He took his new tea set into the bath and played happily pouring bubbly tea until the water went cold and I had to persuade him out.
The second photo wasn't taken by me, it's one of the photo updates I received this week of Hester's visit to Les Gets in France.
I'm so thrilled that a rag doll that broke my heart because I couldn't give it to Florence has been embraced by so many and is also managing to raise money for SANDs. We've already raised £355 and she's only been to 4 countries so far. She's home again now from France, but is off to Aberdeen tomorrow.
Thirdly is a photo of the staircase at Platt Hall, home of the Manchester Art Gallery's costume collection.
I had such a fun day out yesterday, and this gallery that I've been wanting to visit for so long, was inspiring and uplifting, reminding me how much I need to make time for days like yesterday.
Finally a photo of some therapy knitting. I like to have a piece of knitting I can pick up anytime and just knit without thinking or knit in the dark.
I'm not a great knitter, but I find I do need to keep my hands busy, it stops some of the crazy, so having something I can pick up anytime is good.
This is simply a circular needle with as many stitches as I could be bothered to fit on, and knit, swapping colours every five rows. It will be a cowl eventually, but that's not as important as the process.
I usually gently roll my eyes at ideas like these, only gently and with a kind of envy of the simplicity of the idea.
I don't really think of myself as a pessimist, but I am cynical, more so since Florence was born, and more afraid of what the universe might have in store for us next.
I think this might be good for me though. I do recognise the happy in my life, but maybe recognising it publicly will do some good...can you tell I'm still fairly cynical?
Here goes anyway, four photos that illustrate the happy in week one of 2013.
Firstly a middle of the day bath time. Something that might usually be inconvenient and knock out my busy schedule, but when Ernest needed a middle of the day bath after an exploding nappy incident the other day, I decided to simply embrace it.
He took his new tea set into the bath and played happily pouring bubbly tea until the water went cold and I had to persuade him out.
The second photo wasn't taken by me, it's one of the photo updates I received this week of Hester's visit to Les Gets in France.
I'm so thrilled that a rag doll that broke my heart because I couldn't give it to Florence has been embraced by so many and is also managing to raise money for SANDs. We've already raised £355 and she's only been to 4 countries so far. She's home again now from France, but is off to Aberdeen tomorrow.
Thirdly is a photo of the staircase at Platt Hall, home of the Manchester Art Gallery's costume collection.
I had such a fun day out yesterday, and this gallery that I've been wanting to visit for so long, was inspiring and uplifting, reminding me how much I need to make time for days like yesterday.
Finally a photo of some therapy knitting. I like to have a piece of knitting I can pick up anytime and just knit without thinking or knit in the dark.
I'm not a great knitter, but I find I do need to keep my hands busy, it stops some of the crazy, so having something I can pick up anytime is good.
This is simply a circular needle with as many stitches as I could be bothered to fit on, and knit, swapping colours every five rows. It will be a cowl eventually, but that's not as important as the process.
Today, India and I planned a day out in Manchester. India had missed out on a college trip to The Whitworth and the Manchester Costume Gallery because it clashed with other college work, and so I seized my opportunity to take her. I love the Whitworth, and have longed to visit the Costume Gallery.
I'm a great believer in taking toddlers to art galleries, but as anyone with a toddler knows, it doesn't mean you get time to really look at anything, so going with my biggest girl (leaving the toddler at home with Daddy) means I get to linger and look at the exhibits instead of chasing small children.
The Whitworth today was slightly dissapointing as they were readying the next textile exhibit and gallery one was empty.
We did enjoy the Alisha Khalid exhibit, and the cup of tea in the cafe.
The Costume Gallery in Platt Fields was a much more inspiring visit. We ooohed and ahhed at the clothing from the last century, especially the 1940's and 50's, and especially the hats, and the handbags.
What really took our breath away though were the beautiful ethereal paper dresses by Violise Lunn.
Stunning, especially in the setting of the hall with it's large windows, soft blue walls and decorative plaster detailing.
Our spirits lifted by the Costume Gallery we hopped on a bus to grab lunch at the Eighth Day, a vegetarian cafe on Oxford Road.
We were so hungry when we arrived. India had skipped breakfast and I'd only had a bowl of porridge at 7am.
We ordered soup, and bread and salad and cake, all vegan. Just moments after sitting down with our food though the fire alarm sounded and we had to evacuate the building!
I'd had two sips of soup and India had only had time to instagram her lunch!
The fire engines arrived, it seems there was a fire upstairs, and it was obvious we would not be getting our lovely lunch, so we wandered off across town in search of an alternative.
Mushroom toasties at the craft centre, although lovely, were a sad compensation for the lunch our stomachs were expecting, and I think we might bore everyone rigid with our tale of the" lunch that burned down".
A good day though, despite the abandoned lunch.
I'm a great believer in taking toddlers to art galleries, but as anyone with a toddler knows, it doesn't mean you get time to really look at anything, so going with my biggest girl (leaving the toddler at home with Daddy) means I get to linger and look at the exhibits instead of chasing small children.
The Whitworth today was slightly dissapointing as they were readying the next textile exhibit and gallery one was empty.
We did enjoy the Alisha Khalid exhibit, and the cup of tea in the cafe.
The Costume Gallery in Platt Fields was a much more inspiring visit. We ooohed and ahhed at the clothing from the last century, especially the 1940's and 50's, and especially the hats, and the handbags.
What really took our breath away though were the beautiful ethereal paper dresses by Violise Lunn.
Stunning, especially in the setting of the hall with it's large windows, soft blue walls and decorative plaster detailing.
Our spirits lifted by the Costume Gallery we hopped on a bus to grab lunch at the Eighth Day, a vegetarian cafe on Oxford Road.
We were so hungry when we arrived. India had skipped breakfast and I'd only had a bowl of porridge at 7am.
We ordered soup, and bread and salad and cake, all vegan. Just moments after sitting down with our food though the fire alarm sounded and we had to evacuate the building!
I'd had two sips of soup and India had only had time to instagram her lunch!
The fire engines arrived, it seems there was a fire upstairs, and it was obvious we would not be getting our lovely lunch, so we wandered off across town in search of an alternative.
Mushroom toasties at the craft centre, although lovely, were a sad compensation for the lunch our stomachs were expecting, and I think we might bore everyone rigid with our tale of the" lunch that burned down".
A good day though, despite the abandoned lunch.
This is the sweater I knitted for Ernest while sat at craft fairs in the run up to Christmas. A simple moss stitch tunic that can be knitted without looking at the pattern too often, ideal for keeping fingers busy between customers.
The pattern is from my favourite knitting book, Quick Baby Knits by Debbie Bliss. I bought this book back in 1999 when Eden was born. I knitted her several things from it, and I think each of my children since have had at least one item knitted from this book.
There are some mistakes in this sweater, and the sewing up is far from perfect, (Oh how I hate sewing up!), but Ernest likes it, it's cosy, though unfortunately it does catch yogurt in the roll neck.
The pattern is from my favourite knitting book, Quick Baby Knits by Debbie Bliss. I bought this book back in 1999 when Eden was born. I knitted her several things from it, and I think each of my children since have had at least one item knitted from this book.
There are some mistakes in this sweater, and the sewing up is far from perfect, (Oh how I hate sewing up!), but Ernest likes it, it's cosy, though unfortunately it does catch yogurt in the roll neck.
I'm not sure quilting and I are really friends. I feel much the same about quilting as I do knitting. I admire both, even enjoy both, but neither flow with me the same way dressmaking does.
India asked for a quilt for Christmas, and I'd been saving scraps of fabric for a while, so using those as a starting point and then stash shopping I pulled together everything I needed to make her one.
There were even enough scrap pieces left over for Eden to make her a matching cushion.
I finished sewing the binding on by hand at around 11.30pm on Christmas Eve, and I'm glad to say India really likes it. I hope my stitching stands up to years of snuggles under it.
This post has been bubbling away in my mind for quite some time now, and I warn you it may take self indulgence to a new level, but I'm hoping that like my "Bath" post, some people out there will identify with some of what I have to say.
Once upon a time I was thin. I can look back now to my twenty something self and think I actually had quite a nice figure, which I mostly hid under baggy 90's fashions.
1994 at a friends wedding
Then I had babies, lots of lovely chubby beautiful babies. My belly grew, and grew, and grew some more! My babies were all large, the largest being Sid at a shade under 11lbs.
I can honestly say that being pregnant with my first five babies, was the only time I've been confident in my body. I relished every change, felt bountiful and beautiful in my vastness.
Florence's due date 2009
With each baby I gained a little more weight. I indulged in those extra 500 calories a day that everyone says you need to breastfeed, plus more for good measure.
I was happy with my voluptuous lactating self. Yeah, sure I often wished I was slimmer, or fitter, but mostly I was happy. I didn't really think of myself as fat.
On holiday in 2008
Then Florence was born.
During those first few weeks it was hard enough remembering to breath, I certainly couldn't eat. I sipped tea, and I think I nibbled on the corner of some cake that had been bought by Woody's sister, but my throat constricted, and I couldn't swallow.
The midwife looking after me in the days following Florence's birth told me I had to think of food as medicine. I had to think, "bite", "chew", and "swallow". I told her I would try.
Woody cooks, he's a great cook, and he shows us daily how much he loves us by feeding us. He cooked after Florence died. he cooked for the children, and for any guests popping by, and he cooked for me, but I couldn't eat.
After several days he shouted at me. He rarely shouts, but he was trying to love me by feeding me, and I was refusing, unable to eat.
The only food I really remember eating in those early days was a casserole left on our doorstep by a wonderful friend. I ate some of that with tears streaming. There was love in that pot of food, and we all knew it.
Three weeks after Florence died, my best friend got married. Her wedding was beautiful. I had made her wedding dress, and had been looking forward so much to being there with my new baby tucked into a sling.
I couldn't eat anything at the dinner, I shuffled food around my plate, and passed it to the children, swapping their clean plates for my full one. Not wanting to offend...I'm not sure that my best friend knows I did that even now.
Three weeks after Florence's birth
I knew, even in those early days that my reluctance to eat wouldn't last long.
I've always been an emotional eater. I eat when I'm stressed, or tired, or angry, all the usual stuff.
I really wasn't that surprised then when I started to eat again that I was eating so much. I would tell myself I needed to keep my strength up, pregnant again, and then after Ernest was born, I needed the extra calories to feed him.....The truth was though that I was trying to fill the Florence shaped hole in my gut with chocolate biscuits.
When I admitted this to myself. I started to watch my diet. I used an online calorie counter, and to my surprise found it really not too hard to start shedding those extra pounds. Pumping a litre of milk each day for Ernest meant that losing that weight really wasn't so hard, and I could still indulge my sweet tooth.
I lost a decent amount of weight doing this, but it got harder, and I lost interest in calorie counting. That's when a friend suggested we go along to a local slimming group together.
I've met some great people at the group, some of them neighbours I might not have said more than "hello" to before. I managed to lose more weight, and reached my "target" weight on August 7th, the third anniversary of Florence's funeral.
September 2012
I stopped going to the group in September.
I needed to take a break from the intense diet stuff, the constant counting and weighing, and I mean this in the nicest way; I needed a break from some of the crazy. I'm sorry, but a quiche is not a quiche without pastry...it's an omelet!
I'm glad I've lost weight, I'm not skinny, far from it, but I'm thinner than I was, even with the few pounds I've gained over Christmas.
Being thinner hasn't made me happier. I'm still dealing with the emotional eating,I still haven't found an alternative form of self care, but I understand now that I can't fill that Florence shaped hole with food. Nothing can fill that space.
Once upon a time I was thin. I can look back now to my twenty something self and think I actually had quite a nice figure, which I mostly hid under baggy 90's fashions.
1994 at a friends wedding
Then I had babies, lots of lovely chubby beautiful babies. My belly grew, and grew, and grew some more! My babies were all large, the largest being Sid at a shade under 11lbs.
I can honestly say that being pregnant with my first five babies, was the only time I've been confident in my body. I relished every change, felt bountiful and beautiful in my vastness.
Florence's due date 2009
With each baby I gained a little more weight. I indulged in those extra 500 calories a day that everyone says you need to breastfeed, plus more for good measure.
I was happy with my voluptuous lactating self. Yeah, sure I often wished I was slimmer, or fitter, but mostly I was happy. I didn't really think of myself as fat.
On holiday in 2008
Then Florence was born.
During those first few weeks it was hard enough remembering to breath, I certainly couldn't eat. I sipped tea, and I think I nibbled on the corner of some cake that had been bought by Woody's sister, but my throat constricted, and I couldn't swallow.
The midwife looking after me in the days following Florence's birth told me I had to think of food as medicine. I had to think, "bite", "chew", and "swallow". I told her I would try.
Woody cooks, he's a great cook, and he shows us daily how much he loves us by feeding us. He cooked after Florence died. he cooked for the children, and for any guests popping by, and he cooked for me, but I couldn't eat.
After several days he shouted at me. He rarely shouts, but he was trying to love me by feeding me, and I was refusing, unable to eat.
The only food I really remember eating in those early days was a casserole left on our doorstep by a wonderful friend. I ate some of that with tears streaming. There was love in that pot of food, and we all knew it.
Three weeks after Florence died, my best friend got married. Her wedding was beautiful. I had made her wedding dress, and had been looking forward so much to being there with my new baby tucked into a sling.
I couldn't eat anything at the dinner, I shuffled food around my plate, and passed it to the children, swapping their clean plates for my full one. Not wanting to offend...I'm not sure that my best friend knows I did that even now.
Three weeks after Florence's birth
I knew, even in those early days that my reluctance to eat wouldn't last long.
I've always been an emotional eater. I eat when I'm stressed, or tired, or angry, all the usual stuff.
I really wasn't that surprised then when I started to eat again that I was eating so much. I would tell myself I needed to keep my strength up, pregnant again, and then after Ernest was born, I needed the extra calories to feed him.....The truth was though that I was trying to fill the Florence shaped hole in my gut with chocolate biscuits.
When I admitted this to myself. I started to watch my diet. I used an online calorie counter, and to my surprise found it really not too hard to start shedding those extra pounds. Pumping a litre of milk each day for Ernest meant that losing that weight really wasn't so hard, and I could still indulge my sweet tooth.
I lost a decent amount of weight doing this, but it got harder, and I lost interest in calorie counting. That's when a friend suggested we go along to a local slimming group together.
I've met some great people at the group, some of them neighbours I might not have said more than "hello" to before. I managed to lose more weight, and reached my "target" weight on August 7th, the third anniversary of Florence's funeral.
September 2012
I stopped going to the group in September.
I needed to take a break from the intense diet stuff, the constant counting and weighing, and I mean this in the nicest way; I needed a break from some of the crazy. I'm sorry, but a quiche is not a quiche without pastry...it's an omelet!
I'm glad I've lost weight, I'm not skinny, far from it, but I'm thinner than I was, even with the few pounds I've gained over Christmas.
Being thinner hasn't made me happier. I'm still dealing with the emotional eating,I still haven't found an alternative form of self care, but I understand now that I can't fill that Florence shaped hole with food. Nothing can fill that space.
For everyone who reads this blog, wishing you peace and happiness for 2013.
This candle is lit along with many others in memory of my beautiful baby girl.
I haven't cried this Christmas sweetheart, but I've missed you every second.
Special love to all those reading missing someone they love.
Always remembering Florence Violet x
I'm clearing out older stock to make way for fresh new spring stock, so go grab a bargain, lots down to half price, and you can still use code FLOSS12 to get a further 15% off.
Sometimes, what we need is the calmness of somewhere beautiful to brighten the spirit.
Have you missed me?
I have been rather quiet. I've been busy of course, and I had a bit of a health scare that knocked me kinda sideways.
All is ok now, it was thankfully just doctors being uber cautious. I am so grateful for our National Health Service, and especially the Nightingale Genesis Prevention Centre at the University Hospital South Manchester.
I'm now the proud owner of a teeny (3mm) titanium bow in my booby, but apparently that wont ring any alarms at airports.
Christmas is almost upon us, or here already I guess with this being Christmas Eve. I don't really make Christmas gifts any more. This year though I have made two gifts, only one I can actually talk about here for now though, and that's because it didn't quite work out!
Woody and I rarely buy each other Christmas gifts, and certainly not in the past three years. What we really want for Christmas no one can give us.
This year though I thought I would knit him a hat. I decided to use Kat's fab pattern for the North Sea hat. a great easy to follow pattern, and I really loved learning the herringbone pattern.
Unfortunately I shopped for yarn in a hurry, didn't get quite the right yarn, and didn't watch my guage closely enough. This might not have been a problem except Woody has a large head, larger than average.
When the hat was complete I realised it wasn't going to fit him, and I was right. I risked ruining the surprise and asked him to try it on. He couldn't even get it past the top of his head.
The good news though is that it fits Eden beautifully as a more slouchy hat. She asked for a pom pom, I obliged and she is now the owner of rather a smart, and very warm winter hat.
I've also been busy the past few days organising a fundraising trek for a little rag doll friend of mine.
You can read all about that here
And now I need to get off the PC and clean my bathroom, I don't want Father Christmas to see my grubby clothes all over the floor!
Merry Christmas, thinking of all those missing again this year, and wishing peace for all. x
I have been rather quiet. I've been busy of course, and I had a bit of a health scare that knocked me kinda sideways.
All is ok now, it was thankfully just doctors being uber cautious. I am so grateful for our National Health Service, and especially the Nightingale Genesis Prevention Centre at the University Hospital South Manchester.
I'm now the proud owner of a teeny (3mm) titanium bow in my booby, but apparently that wont ring any alarms at airports.
Christmas is almost upon us, or here already I guess with this being Christmas Eve. I don't really make Christmas gifts any more. This year though I have made two gifts, only one I can actually talk about here for now though, and that's because it didn't quite work out!
Woody and I rarely buy each other Christmas gifts, and certainly not in the past three years. What we really want for Christmas no one can give us.
This year though I thought I would knit him a hat. I decided to use Kat's fab pattern for the North Sea hat. a great easy to follow pattern, and I really loved learning the herringbone pattern.
Unfortunately I shopped for yarn in a hurry, didn't get quite the right yarn, and didn't watch my guage closely enough. This might not have been a problem except Woody has a large head, larger than average.
When the hat was complete I realised it wasn't going to fit him, and I was right. I risked ruining the surprise and asked him to try it on. He couldn't even get it past the top of his head.
The good news though is that it fits Eden beautifully as a more slouchy hat. She asked for a pom pom, I obliged and she is now the owner of rather a smart, and very warm winter hat.
I've also been busy the past few days organising a fundraising trek for a little rag doll friend of mine.
You can read all about that here
And now I need to get off the PC and clean my bathroom, I don't want Father Christmas to see my grubby clothes all over the floor!
Merry Christmas, thinking of all those missing again this year, and wishing peace for all. x
On Monday Ernest and I decided to make the most of the snow and spent the morning in the local park. The snow was all but gone by tea time, so it was a good decision.
I even went sledging for the first time in my almost 44 years! It was only a little hill, a bump really, but it was fun. Can't think why I've never done it before!
This photo shows the end of a little row of terraced cottages that I pass every day. they are so pretty. Overshadowed by a huge old mill, but pretty and one of these days I'm going to draw them!
Yesterday I spent a lovely day in Manchester with my friend Mary. We got to finally visit The First Cut exhibition at Manchester Art Gallery.
A great exhibit, though I think I preferred the exhibits over in the costume gallery that I saw a few weeks ago.
Mary and I also fitted in a trip to Purl City where I treated myself to some lovely alpaca yarn and some new needles.
We squeezed in Abakhan, Fred Aldous and lunch in The Craft Centre too...of course!
I found this little card in Fred Aldous.