stressing out

One of the unwelcome changes that I find has come upon me as I get older is that I get stressed about things. I didn’t used to.

Yesterday I did something that made me very stressed indeed. I applied for inclusion in this year’s Wirksworth Festival.

It involved filling in an online form. This is something I virtually used to do for a living, having submitted assessment reports via online forms as part of my job – every single day for years.

So it should have been easy. It should NOT have been stressful.

But it was.

First, I had to include a CV (or resumé). My previous employment seems somewhat irrelevant to the matter in hand, so the task called for a spot of lateral thinking.

Then, I had to select four photos to represent my work. Oh, decisions decisions…

There were very specific requirements for the photos, requiring edits and techie stuff. So of course, my laptop saw an opportunity to corrupt a few files and constantly quit a vital application. Thanks, laptop.

These (and the one at the top of this post) are the pictures I chose:
My rationale was to include one picture of jewellery, one of cushions, one of a “novelty” item and one of a quilt or quilt panel.

I got my application done and submitted by the deadline. Eventually. After quite a lot of pfaffing and a little bit of cursing at my laptop and possibly even a tear or two.

My heart rate is just about slowing down now.

I love the Festival Art Trail – you may remember, I went last year, so I know that the reason I got stressed (apart from the recalcitrance of technology) is because it would mean a lot to me if my application was successful.

This, in other words.

Anyway, there’s nothing to do now but wait. My hopes are not high but if I don’t have a go, I’ll never know.

Wish me luck!

bermuda triangle

Yesterday was not a good day, sewing-wise.

I was working at a disadvantage from the start, having sliced open my finger on a kitchen knife in the washing up bowl the previous evening.

This made the job of stuffing pincushions somewhat unpleasant, as the stuffing’s fibres kept catching on – and reopening – the cut. Youch.

Anyway, I got these couple of tweeties done (apart from stuffing) and decided to finish off the day making a pair of patchwork cushions. But that was before I had a run in with an untidy workroom – and a senior moment. I have two zip stashes. The last bit of my old roll of zip, and a brand new roll, bought a few weeks ago. I thought, logically, I should use up the little bit first.

But could I find it?

Could I heck.

I know I took it to sewing class to use in my frock. But this knowledge has not, so far, resulted in it’s retrieval. I have the sliders (is that the technical term?) for it, but no actual zip.I think it may be lurking in a carrier bag, the location of which is somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle.

You know the place. There’s one in every home. The place of things-you-know-you-have-somewhere-but-can’t-quite-put-your-hand-on. That place.

To make matters worse, hiding in a second and entirely separate Bermuda Triangle, were the sliders for my new roll of zip.

And needless to say, the sliders from the old zip proved incompatible with the new zip. Cue wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth.

Eventually I located the new sliders. Phew. And then spent a good half hour trying to get one of them and a length of zip to get acquainted. Somehow, despite having previously fitted hundreds of the things (cue renewed gnashing of teeth with added tearing of hair) - I had lost the knack.

And then; THEN…

I sewed not one but TWO zips in. And both were….

WRONG!

I haven’t yet had the heart to unpick them. I needed to do something else instead. Like drink wine and watch telly until I calmed down.

Today’s another day. I will try again. I will have things to sell on my stall next weekend. I will get things made.

And whilst trying I will remember the words of one Mr Barry Manilow.

Who despite sounding like he’d had a bit of a ‘mare himself (although under entirely different and non-sewing-related circumstances) still manages to come out of the experience singing, “Bermuda Tri-an-gle, not so bad”.

square deal

I got a parcel in the post yesterday. Always cause for celebration!

But this one, although small, was anticipated with particular joy as it came from Pomme de Jour.

If you haven’t come across Tanya and her amazing emporium before, pop over to her shop or website and take a look. She stocks an amazing collection of colourful vintage finds from France, which are guaranteed to make you smile.

My parcel certainly did! Much needed on this cold, snowy, wintry day, I can tell you.

I took advantage of a generous 25% discount deal and ordered one of Tanya’s amazing charm packs of 1970s cottons.

And look what I got…

They look so pretty all laid out on the floor that I don’t want to put them away.

As yet, they are not earmarked for any particular project.

But they are so gorgeous that I know I won’t be able to leave them alone for long.

Tanya even included a little free gift – enough of these pretty hexies to make a pin-cushion…

Now that’s what I call a square – or should that be hexagonal – deal! ♥

hilda’s masterpiece

It’s strange how things come into your life.

Only yesterday I was goggling in wonder at Jane Brocket’s beautiful quilts and marvelling at the work in them and their stunning fabric combinations.

And then today, this…

I find myself the owner of a hand-stitched quilt top as beautiful, to me, as any in Jane Brocket’s book.

It was made by Hilda, who was my partner’s grandmother on his mum’s side and was given to me by my partner’s sister.

She thought that I would appreciate it most of anyone in the family.

I can’t tell you how touched I was by this, that I should be thought worthy of the ownership of this beautiful piece of family history.

The patchwork has not been quilted, just lined with a plain cream-coloured sheet. It is entirely hand stitched from an amazing selection of mainly 1960s fabrics, some recognisable from other items once owned by Hilda.

The colours just sing.

My photographs on this dull wet day, taken in an attic room with small windows, just can’t do it justice.

It needs a little mending, here and there. It could even be quilted, with wadding and a new backing added. I’m undecided on that score.

I will take some better pictures when we get home.

So I am now the very fortunate owner of a masterpiece.

I do hope that Hilda, if she were watching, would approve.

faith and generosity

I may have mentioned before – I absolutely love the internet and the lovely people you can meet there.

When I left my job a couple of years back I was sorely lacking in faith in people. I felt severely bruised and confused having been on the receiving end of a bad situation.

How things change…

Yesterday my cheerful postie delivered a parcel from bloggy friend Bee, of The Linen Cloud.

Inside was this beautiful book… a most unexpected gift!

I have followed Jane Brocket’s blog for ages. Her photos are so perfect.

And coincidentally, I had been thinking of asking for this particular book for my birthday.

Bee noticed that I had pinned a couple of images from it to my quilting and patchwork pinterest board and as she had a spare copy, she thought of me!

Take a look at some of the beauty within…

Praise be to the internet and the restoring of faith in people.

And huge and heartfelt thanks to the generosity of a friend, whom I have yet to meet.

worth queuing for

Well, I made it to the vintage fair yesterday!

I couldn’t believe the number of people queuing outside when I got there, just fifteen minutes after opening time.

Young and old, male and female, trendy and – ahem – not-so-much, outrageous and ordinary, it seems there’s nothing quite so enticing as the prospect of a roomful of old clothes and second-hand knick-knacks to prize all sorts of people out of the house of a Sunday afternoon!

Just take a look at these lovelies and you’ll see what I mean…

I’m no exception to the lure… and I copped some lovely things, for not-very-much money. I could have spent so much more.

I did try on one frock, but, assisted in my willpower somewhat by the fact that it was just a tad too tight around the hips, I managed to restrain myself.

I did find a few little bargains though…

Firstly, a nice tank top:

I do like the look of a fair isle tank top over a frock!

This one had previously belonged to the (male) stallholder and had been knitted for him by his mum when he was a teenager, from a 1940s pattern. Somewhere I own a photo of my own dad wearing something similar…

Secondly, a scarf to add to my bedspread-in-waiting collection:Thirdly, this embroidered felt knick-knack:

“What is it?” I hear you ask. “I have no idea!” is my reply. But my plan is that it will be unpicked and the two halves will become a couple of little pockets on some future garment project.

And finally… I saved the best until last:

Aren’t they gorgeous?!

I’m not quite sure what I will use these two lovely patchwork pieces for yet, but who cares? I’m sure they’ll come in, as my mum used to say.

So I didn’t go home with any 1960s shoes. And unlike most of the throng at the fair, I didn’t buy a frock.

But I think my little treasures were well worth queuing for nonetheless.