Friday, 21 April 2017

Kaffe Fassett at Standen


My blog posts are currently like buses...none for an interminably long time and then suddenly a great rush of them, but all with the same destination - that is, sharing news of exhibitions that are soon to end. This one is particularly late in arriving with you, as the exhibition in question closes this Sunday (23rd April), so if you're interested it may be a case of read-and-run.

We missed the two talks that Kaffe Fassett gave at Standen to run alongside the exhibition as the tickets sold out so quickly, but in mid-March, my daughter, mum and I went along to look at the quilts and tapestries on display. These two red quilts in the image above were lit beautifully and really glowed.



This sweetly-coloured Pickle Dish quilt was my favourite. In researching the origin of the pickle dish design, I discovered some alternative names, one being Gypsy Kisses and the other being 'an eyelash quilt'! The latter leaves a pickle dish (which only shares the basic oblong shape that appears within the quilt) feeling a rather tenuous link, when a set of eyelashes is such a perfect literal translation of this design. Albeit rather jauntily-coloured eyelashes.



Because Standen is a popular location in its own right, many of the visitors hadn't come to specifically view the exhibition. It was really lovely hearing how surprised and delighted people were to stumble across this beautiful body of work.


We enjoyed the National Trust's tactful approach to asking visitors to refrain from sitting on the chairs. Such a simple gesture, but it seemed to convey a whole conversation without any need for any ugly signage. Just in case you're wondering, our thought was that the conversation would go something like this: Would you like this fir cone up your bottom? No? Don't sit on the chair then (all said in quite a friendly, smiley voice). Someone on Instagram mentioned that they've seen holly used at some National Trust properties...that seems like a slightly more aggressive conversation.


We were lucky to go on a day when everything was bathed in beautiful Spring light.


Once we'd finished admiring all the quilts, we wandered around the grounds chatting. My mum and I saw the chance to star in our own Rob Ryan paper cut and leapt upon it, captured by my daughter. I am wearing a poncho...not actual bat wings.


We saw this final quilt in the coffee shop. I was quite captivated by it, in part because I wasn't enamoured by the colours overall, but felt the whole thing was transformed by the very small amounts of blue splashed about and it felt really fascinating to see how it worked to lift all the other colours.


There's a lovely video of Kaffe decorating the Standen Christmas tree last year, at the bottom of this page, if you'd like to see.

Over on my Facebook page, I've also listed some podcasts that I've enjoyed over the last week while sewing, if you have some spare listening time. I always love hearing people's recommendations, as I'm always looking out for new things. One thing that I hadn't mentioned on Facebook, that I've been enjoying recently is The Conversation on BBC World Service. In each episode, they get two women together who share the same interest/job/life experience have a conversation and it's invariably fascinating as they discuss the similarities and differences in their experiences.

Wishing you a lovely weekend,
Florence x




Thursday, 13 April 2017

Josef Frank, Celebrating 40 and Mixtapes


I always miss this space horribly when I don't get a chance to post, but it tends to be the first thing to go when I'm busy. However, I wanted to write before the closing date of a particular exhibition that I'd like to tell you about. More on that later though.

A few weeks ago I celebrated my fortieth birthday. I hadn't really planned anything, but then a friend made me an amazing cake that was three tiers deep and it prompted me to arrange to see people to help me make my way through it. It ended up being a really lovely, relaxed time full of friends and family that went on for five days until the cake was finished. I would have missed out on so much had it been regular-sized (thank you, Emma).

My husband surprised me by having arranged for my sister, daughter and mum and I to spend the following weekend together in London.

We went to the Josef Frank exhibition that's currently on at London's Fashion & Textile Museum. Josef Frank was an Austrian architect, better known for the textile designs he created after moving to Sweden to escape Nazi discrimination. His prints are breathtakingly lovely. I am always drawn to designs that have lots of tiny, delicate dots surrounding a bolder design, because it seems to lend a welcome softness - this is something that features in many of Josef Frank's designs.


It was a real treat that along with large lengths of fabric, the original design was often also shown. Especially interesting to see how he had planned out the repeat. I really love photos of people engrossed in looking at things in museums - you can almost feel the quiet stillness. It's my sister in the photo above.


As always, the way that the FTM lay things out was a complete delight. They have a very small space, but the thoughtful displays always feel visually exciting. For this exhibition, the way that they had hung the panels meant that everywhere you turned a new sight line of different fabric combinations was created.


They had also upholstered several sofas and chairs in Frank's fabrics, that they generously invited visitors to sit on. That feels such a rarity, as so often the fabrics are too old and precious to cope with an endless stream of visitors.


The colours in this design made it by far our favourite. The exhibition is on until 7th May and if you're anywhere near London, I'd implore you to go. You can book tickets here, although I've never been turned away when I've bought them on the door.

A friend alerted me to the fact that you can actually import Josef Frank fabric and accessories from this site. They are outrageously expensive, but incredibly beautiful.

Oddly, our hotel had a very Josef Frank feel to it in places. This is one of the sitting rooms.



We also loved these displays created by tiny pebbles. Although it's set back from Trafalgar Square in a very quiet street, its still a large central London hotel, but it has lots of creative touches like this that soften its edges and make it feel really cosy. My sister and I stayed a few years earlier and fell in love with it. They do lovely hot chocolate in the bar if you're ever in the area during the day. After cocktails, we scurried upstairs to pile into bed to watch a film. My sister and I saw about five minutes of it before falling asleep, leaving my mum and daughter to finish it together.


We also visited St Dustan in the East (do look at the photos - it's a lesser-known London landmark, but really beautiful), where the four of us sat in the sunshine, having a long and meandering conversation so bizarre and laughter-filled that I think I will remember it always.

In entirely other matters; through a strange electronic quirk, I'm only able to listen to my iPod docked in my car if I begin my journey by going forwards (forgive me for giving no lead in to alert you to where this story is going - I'll deliver you to the destination in the next paragraph). Reversing out of a driveway or a space in a car park is seemingly so objectionable that seconds after I've committed the crime and begun moving forward, the music is confiscated and will only be reinstated if I can find somewhere to pull over to go through a long process of persuasion. Generally, a journey is best if I can just start by going immediately forwards. Some days, it also finds a particular bend in a country road disagreeable and casts the car into sudden silence, leaving only the eerie sound of tyres on tarmac. I think it's a car that craves straight, Roman roads. The men at the repair garage tell us it's all working perfectly, looking askance when I speak of long, musicless journeys.

Anyway, the upshot of this is that there's still very much a place for CDs in my life, which seem solid and reliable by comparison and can be played irrespective of the direction of travel. For my birthday, my husband made me three compilation CDs, containing a song that was released in each of my 40 years - it feels so odd to listen to them in order and work my way through my lifetime track by track. It was a really lovely gift and has been on rotation in the car ever since. I usually have on the CDs that my sister has made me for birthdays and Christmases - I wonder if we are the last generation who will make mix tapes that can be given to others. iTunes allows you to share a playlist with others, but I think it then relies on them to purchase the songs, rather than allowing you to buy them as a gift.

My husband and I listened to a two-part series on Radio 4 about the demise of the music industry as we once knew it, reflecting on the time when things shifted from CDs to digital and the impact of services like Napster. Here's part 1 and part 2, if you'd like to listen. We found it really interesting, if quite sad.


It's been a surreal time as I've been totally absorbed in a project that I began at the end of last summer and the only days that I've really surfaced from it have been to race off to do something extraordinarily lovely, before diving straight back into it. I have really enjoyed the balance of intense work (which is mostly energising, rather than draining) and intense relaxation. A few weeks after our birthday weekend in London, I found myself popping over to Spain for a few days to spend some more time with my sister, only booking flights the day before I left.


We ate fennel and lemon salads; and also nuts (my sister's, always unadulterated 'woodland snacks'; mine, shameful salted peanuts, which we compromised on calling 'safari snacks' after I'd vetoed her derogatory suggestion of 'circus snacks'. It says that they are 'a natural source of protein and fibre' on the pack - she maintains that this is negated by roasting and salting. I'd welcome your own thoughts about salted peanuts); warmed our skin by the sea; rode carousel horses, just as we had done in Paris seven years ago (although that time, my hair had not blown across my face to give a curious monobrow); sat talking for hours while I sewed; and watched films before falling asleep each night. It was a truly magical time.


London felt cold and wintry by comparison on the evening we arrived home, but the next day there was glorious sunshine and we launched straight into my son's birthday who has joined the ranks of teenager (thankfully not of the Kevin variety, although I did show him the clip a few years ago and he was enamoured with Kevin's almost instant transformation), meaning that I now have not even a slightly small child left in the house. It's odd to think that he was only three when I started writing this blog. Speaking of teenagers, we watched The Edge of Seventeen with our older daughter a few evenings ago. It's such a lovely film that's incredibly funny - it has had universally good reviews. Probably only suitable for slightly older teenagers as it's rated 15 and the content is quite adult at times.

In other thoughts: Easter. I hope you have a really lovely break. We are planning to see family and potter close to home. I hope whatever your plans are, they involve good things.

Florence x

Saturday, 28 January 2017

On Knitting (+ a few questions)


Anyone who has followed this blog over the last decade may recall that my knitting forays have never actually resulted in a finished garment (at least working on the basis that, unless trying to emulate Michael Jackson's one-handed glove wearing, one really requires two gloves to avoid looking like curious creature). It's come as a source of delight and surprise to have not only finished something, but to have commenced a second project!

When my daughter visited the Christmas markets in Germany the year before last, she brought back a beautiful snood for just a few euros. Every time she's put it on since, she's chastised herself for not buying another one in a different colour, so when I was pondering her Christmas gifts this year I decided to buy a kit from Wool and the Gang so that she could make one for herself. Wool and the Gang's branding is so youthful and stylish that I felt confident that one of their kits may be enough to lure her woolwards. (And in a fit of self-gifting, I bought a navy kit for myself, so that we might sit and knit companionably. What a wonderful rabbit hole that proved to be). We both used this kit - her kit used Margaux Red, while mine contained Midnight Navy yarn.

One day over Christmas we pulled out our large balls of wool and began. The wool was vast and our friend, Ben, enquired whether we were using special 'training needles', such was their girth. I guess we were, although I think they're standard for any kind of 'big wool' knitting perhaps. We followed the WATG slip knot tutorial; long-tail cast-on video; then the moss-stitch instructions and then we were actually moss-stitching. The first few rows looked unimpressive and odd, but several rows in, the bumps began to look like a recognisably repeating textural pattern. The pattern included in the kit contained little helpful information for a beginner, so I think the intention is that you supplement it with their videos, which are are wonderfully clear and the way that they're shot makes them feel oddly calming to watch.

We later also discovered the Top 10 Knitting Tips video, which I wish I'd watched first as it's really useful.

One day, we took our knitting over to my parents house and while my sister and mum cooked lunch, my grandmother and I sat and took it in turns to knit a row each on my snood. My grandmother was always a wonderful knitter, but it's a few years since she's picked up some needles and she'd forgotten some of what she once knew. Despite the intense concentration, her face looked so relaxed and happy when knitting again. She mostly always looks happy (she is one of the most sparkly and vivacious people I know) but this was a different kind of happiness; I imagine it's exactly the way I'd look if I was handed some English paper piecing in my late 80s. Whenever it was my turn, she made such genuinely delighted comments of admiration and encouragement that I was cast back to how it felt to be taught something by her as a child - she always had an amazing capacity to teach in a way that never made me feel stupid or aware of her impatience, if she actually felt any.


Every time my daughter and I dropped a stitch, we pulled back all of our knitting and would start again, as neither of us had any idea of how to remedy our mistakes. We didn't really mind this as we were both enjoying the process of perfecting our stitches. Each time we started afresh we made less and less mistakes and on my fifth attempt I had nearly finished my snood, when I realised that I'd done my knit and purls in the wrong order. So close to having a wearable garment, I suddenly did feel quite distressed by this.  I took to the internet and posted the above photo...and later the below photo...and found out bit by bit how to fix it. It's been a while since I was dabbling in an area of craft where I'm a complete beginner, and it was lovely to be reminded anew of just how generous and warm people are in sharing their knowledge - me and my ailing knitting were so kindly shepherded back to a place of hole-free rows of moss stitch!


In the situation above, the piece of advice that seemed to ring clearest to me, was to lay all the stitches flat like 'n's and then to make sure the right hand side of the stitch was on my side of the needle, rotating the stitches 45 degrees. And also that the tail of yarn should end up at the top of the needle.

We've worn our snoods almost constantly and they are deliciously warm and cosy - thicker and warmer than anything else I own. Sadly, my daughter lost hers on a school trip to the Tate Modern last week, so I've ordered some more wool for her so that she can remake it.



I think what worked for us about these kits was that the huge wool meant that it was very quick to knit quite a large area, giving us a sense of instant gratification. Also, mentally, the fact that my kit came with everything I needed in it, made me feel more confident that I had the right size needles for my wool.

I'm doing a lot of sewing for various deadlines at the moment, but I so enjoyed making my snood over Christmas that I didn't feel quite ready to put knitting on hold entirely, so I bought a Joni Kit and I'm limiting myself to just doing ten minutes early in the morning or last thing at night. My husband thinks that taking a break from my sewing by doing more handiwork is a very curious thing indeed, but somehow this time feels like a complete break and is both reviving and relaxing.

And it grows so quickly! I chose the Joni scarf, because it uses the same moss stitch that I was already used to, but with much finer wool and narrower needles, so it felt like a fresh challenge. I also hadn't bothered to find out what 'slipping a stitch' at the start of each row involved for my snood, but decided that I'd learn how to do that (so incredibly simple that it barely warrants the word 'learn'!) and so this time I have a lovely smooth edge to my knitting. The wool for my Joni scarf is wonderfully soft and this bluey-grey is one of my favourite colours to wear, so I'm looking forward to finishing it.

When I ran into problems on my last project, several people suggested using a 'lifeline' so that if I wasn't able to correct a mistake, I'd only ever have to pull my knitting back to the lifeline. This was such good advice. I've repositioned the lifeline every ten rows or so and I've now made use of it once and can affirm that it works like a dream! For the uninitiated, just use a big embroidery needle to run a line of thick thread (or in my case, slim ribbon) through the stitches currently on the needle. This then saves those stitches from unravelling if you need to pull it back later. It's not always the easiest of things knitting the first line of stitches following inserting the lifeline as it's a job to avoid it becoming entangled in the stitches, but other than that it's very simple and works wonderfully (there's a clearer photo at the top of this post).


I have a few questions that I wondered if knitters might be able to help me with. The WATG video tutorials are amazing, but I also always really love having a book to refer to. Maddeningly, I was sent this beautiful book several years ago, but despite having looked on every shelf, I can't find it anywhere. I'm wondering whether to re-buy it, although I think what I'd also really like a book that contains a big library of stitches, as I feel quite fascinated by all the different textures that can be created. As the book is likely to be more for inspiration, rather than practical use (if I find a stitch I like, I'd possibly look for a video on how to do it), I'd really like a book where the emphasis is on it being gorgeous (which Erika Knight's books do seem to be). My local bookshop seems to stock far more sewing than knitting books and I'm finding it difficult to pick on online - do you have any recommendations?

Also, I have become quite obsessed by the idea of creating mittens that look a bit like these thrummed mittens - I love those tiny little 'v' shapes. I wonder though, is there a way of getting the same finish with less bulk inside? And if so, what's it called? I often keep gloves in my handbag and so prefer slimline ones. And would this be running, when one can barely walk?

Thank you in advance if you're able to give any advice.

Wishing you a happy weekend,
Florence x

Tuesday, 17 January 2017

On Wonderful Creatures and Other Things


Looking up at the date on the top corner of my laptop today and finding myself already on 17th January makes me feel that the year has got off to a galloping start. I hope the first days of 2017 have been good ones for you!

Over the last few weeks I've been struggling to find quite the right background fabric for the central medallion of a quilt that I've been working on recently. My husband was stumped by it too so, following an SOS call (in which I dramatically doubted the rightness of every single thing about the entire quilt), my parents came over to help me. They both have a brilliant eye for colour and seem to have a natural understanding of how quilts come together - my father commenting at one point: 'the background fabric here is really a transitional area that needs to create a link between the medallion and the outer parts of the quilt'. At which point we stopped briefly to commend him on his brilliant likeness to a Quilt God. They then went on to assess each option I'd laid out, carefully rummaged through my fabric drawers looking for alternatives and together we narrowed things down to come up with an idea of the kinds of fabrics that could potentially work and even came up with some extra details that I could add in. And gradually I felt my equilibrium being restored. Even though I was frustrated by my own inability to initially see what was needed, it was a really lovely morning and one that left me feeling acutely aware of how incredibly lucky I am to have these two wonderful creatures in my life.

After they'd left, I quickly trawled some online quilt shops looking for things that met the criteria we'd laid out, before dashing out with my husband to walk Nell and buy a celebratory brownie from our local cafe. I so often only buy prints that I've either fallen in love with or which will work well for fussy-cutting, that I'm frequently lacking in essential blender prints, so this little stack that arrived today has left me feeling better-stocked with options. Most of the ones above are either from Sew Hot Fabrics or The Fabric Fox, both of which are quite regular haunts for me.

In other news, yesterday, Fiona (of The Sewing Directory), launched a new website and it's one that I've been silently wishing for, for a long time. Several years ago, there was an amazing site that used to share many of the latest fabric launches - I can't remember what it was called now, but I always loved it and found it a really useful resource whenever I was planning a quilt. Sadly, the woman who wrote it passed it on to someone else when she had a career change and I think the site's focus changed at that point and it eventually petered out - does anyone remember it? Anyway, Fiona's new site, Forever Fabric, is basically just like that original site, but with the added advantage of also telling you where each fabric range is being stocked in the UK and the US. There seem to be a lot more modern fabric collections than there were a decade ago, so it will be lovely to find them all in one place as I often find that if I'm late in discovering a line that I love, by that point many of the prints have already sold out (and by late, I mean about 18 months late, causing me to wonder if I've been wearing a blindfold).

Regular readers may find the brevity of this post alarming. I have to admit that at this point I am wondering if it is actually even possible to press 'Publish' without having written at least 3,000 words, so rarely have I done such a thing. I shall press it and we'll find out...

Wishing you a lovely week,
Florence x

Saturday, 10 December 2016

Gift Ideas


Do you remember the Frances books about a characterful young badger*? They were written by Russell Hoban, a kind and generous observer in the telling of stories that often encompassed Frances' own inner turmoil as she struggled to do the right thing in life. In one story, A Birthday for Frances, Frances bought a Chompo bar and two gum balls for her sister's birthday and then faced much anguish over the idea of parting with them. She wondered if Gloria was too young to eat a whole Chompo bar by herself and while she was pondering this, she absent-mindedly ate the gum balls herself. Discussing her desire to keep the Chompo bar for herself with her friend Albert, he confessed that he bought his younger sister a yoyo, knowing that she would be too short to use it! Frances did eventually manage to graciously present Gloria with the Chompo bar and it's a story that instilled in me the idea that the best gifts are often the ones that you'd really love to keep for yourself. So when putting together a post of gift ideas, many are really just based on things that I regularly use and love myself or which, like Frances, I'd like to keep for myself.


(A note to the mothers on both sides of my family, my husband and also my children: if you are reading, stop right here and press the back button - there is nothing for you to see in this blog post! xxx)

Let's begin with something for stationery obsessives while the lovelies mentioned above remove themselves from the area. I use these pens and propelling pencils every single day and they live in a rope bowl on the corner of my desk. I've accumulated quite a collection over the last few years and this week when my LiveWork propelling pencil broke, I realised that I felt absolutely lost without it and invested in three more in a fit of terror-buying, propelled (oh yes) by the worry that at some point they may be discontinued. They're beautiful to look at, but also practical: the pencils are fine, hard and give a perfect line, so I always use them when I'm drawing on template plastic for my English paper piecing.


As I store my pens and pencils in rope baskets, it's worth saying that they too make wonderful gifts - you can find my free tutorial here. I have them all over the house. I think it would be quite nice just to fill one with sweets for a Christmas gift!


Above is a peek of what I've bought for my mum, who always wears beautiful scarves and shawls in winter. Like Frances, with her a Chompo bar held tightly in her warm little paw, I'm as excited to give this as I am torn by wanting to keep it all for myself! It's made by Hilary Grant, a small business who makes delicious knitwear up in Scotland, you can find the full range, here.


Several years ago, my husband surprised me with some Liberty print covered magnets for my white magnet board (which my daughter has since appropriated). They were one of my favourite gifts that year - it's often the small but perfectly-chosen gifts that bring the most delight. You can find some similar ones, pictured above, here, if there's anyone in your life who might like them too.


I mentioned these earlier in the week on Facebook (thank you to everyone who has followed/liked my new page - I have surprised myself and found that I actually LOVE being able to quickly post about little things that I've seen or noticed, as well as following other people's pages), but I recently came across these Binding Babies handmade by Doohikey, in Australia. I don't actually have any bias binding that needs holding, but I will make some especially to dress these dolls if they appear in my stocking. They went straight on my own wishlist...everyone has an inner Frances want-monster.


Also, this lamp, which is basically my dream lamp. It doesn't need plugging in, so can be moved around the house; it folds up to be completely flat for travel; can be extended or contracted to be used at any height or angle; is rechargeable with a USB; has an LED bulbs that don't get hot, which means it can be balanced precariously on the sofa without risking starting a fire (yes, I'm the person who you'd want to watch a film beside); has two different strengths of light; is beautifully made. I love it with my whole heart and it has made my eyes feel sprightly and much more youthful in the evenings. I can't recommend it highly enough. I've bought one in black as a gift to my mother-in-law, as she sews in the evenings too, but I think it would be wonderful more generally for late-night readers, woodworkers, crafty sorts and those who don't like to sit in the dark. My daughter wants one purely because of the colour.

Next, scissors. For you or someone else. I am completely obsessed with scissors. Just the sight of them makes me happy: they feel like one of those objects that hasn't changed greatly since their invention and they also carry a delicious sense of familiarity, perhaps because they don't often need replacing, so it's likely that many of us will have grown up with the same pair in the house throughout our childhood. I can still remember the feel of the button on my mother's dressmaking shears that could be pressed in and out to change between blades - so satisfying! And they were so incredibly weighty and shiny enough to see my own reflection in - I often requested to be entrusted with them as a small child - while they were far too big to actually wield properly myself, they were perfect for some early years scissor appreciation. As an adult, I still notice and appreciate lovely scissors every time I pick them up - it is never an absent-minded action - so they feel worth investing in.


I have some Dovo embroidery scissors myself (above) and have bought a similar pair to give to my mother-in-law this Christmas (she sews a lot, so I hope she will love them). They're made in Germany and seem very hard to come by in the UK, but this shop stocks them and they offer wonderful, friendly service. I bought a pair of much larger Ginghers for my mother-in-law a few years ago and also have a pair myself - I'd say that I rate the Dovo scissors more highly, but I think it's probably quite a subjective thing and they're also different types of scissor (my Gingers are dressmaking scissors), so aren't directly comparable.


I shamelessly mention my Three Bears Sleeping Bag pattern every Christmas, just because it makes such a wonderful gift for small children. You can find the PDF pattern here and a guide to stuffing more peculiarly-shaped animals inside it, here. And if you make one, I'd really love to see, so please do email or tag me with it.


Continuing with gift ideas for small children, one of the hardest things about my own children growing older has been leaving behind the books that we used to read together. I am sometimes struck with an unexpected physical pain in my chest when I see a wonderful children's book and realise that I have no-one to read it with. But for those who do, A Tower of Giraffes features Anna Wright's beautiful illustrations (I bought one of her Dancing Penguins mugs for my father a few years ago). This book combines all my favourite things: collective nouns, illustrations that feature swatches of Liberty print and fascinating little details about how the real creatures live. And I've also learnt, courtesy of Anna, that the collective noun for robins is A Bobbin of Robins...isn't that lovely?


Which reminds me of a book that my sister sent to me, which you may like. We'd been to the V&A museum and finished with some time in their shop, where they've curated the most amazing selection of children's books. I was particularly taken with Stina and I think my sister could see that I was having one of those heart-pangy moments over it. It arrived in the post a few days later with some chocolates - I was so surprised and delighted. 


It's a children's story about a girl who doesn't like the cold; she knits warm things and has retreated somewhat from the world, but the story ends as she finds a way to brave the outdoors. It's a delicious book of knitty images, bonkers plans and thoughts about the cold that I can identify with. Knitters will undoubtedly love it, but as I don't knit myself, maybe it will appeal to anyone. 


Persephone books, with their matt grey covers always feel extra special. My favourite has been The Homemaker by Dorothy Canfield Fisher.


If you're already a fan of Persephone books and like traditional diaries, their 2017 version has the first sentence from one of their books on each page, as well as the beautiful end papers that Persephone are known for throughout. I really wish I kept a traditional diary so that I could make use of this - it's beautiful!


Also, my sister's clothbound poetry anthologies that she has created for Penguin - they are so beautiful and make such lovely gifts (if you're keen for it to be clothbound, make sure you're buying the version labelled 'hardback', as they're also out in paperback).


My family have a small mountain of lovely presents accumulating on top of my wardrobe, but when 2016 has been a year filled with humanitarian crisis, I've felt drawn to try and incorporate a few gifts under the tree that acknowledge this in some small way. I tried to choose charity gifts that would reflect my children's own passions, because I think they'll be really delighted by it that way, so through Save the Children, I've donated money to pay for a football to be given to a child on my son's behalf and an art set for a child in a refugee camp on my daughter's behalf. And I've also bought my husband a goat, not because of a secret goat fetish, but because I know he'll love to think of it at the other side of the world providing a family with milk and goaty cuddles (and possibly all manner of entertaining goat mischief). The goat in question was half-price, which is a slightly curious idea for a charitable gift, but I was able to make an additional donation at the checkout to negate that.


I'd really recommend Save the Children (certificates left and right of the photo above) if you're donating a gift on behalf of a child or grandchild, as while ultimately it's about how the money is being spent, the presentation is perfect and is likely to appeal far more in terms of looking thoroughly gift-like. It also came with a second print out that contains a really engaging image of a child receiving an art set/football and a little information about what their lives are like and how the gift will make a difference to them. For putting charity gifts under the tree to work well, rather than feeling overly wholesome and self-righteous (I think it's a horribly thin line), I really think it needs to make the donating recipient's heart leap almost as much as the actual recipient's. I feel happy that I believe these really will.

Note that the certificates don't come with Liberty print post-it notes embossed on them - they were just placed there temporarily to cover my children's names.

If you have any of your own recommendations for interesting things that you're buying for others or enjoying yourself, I'd love to hear, as I still have a few gifts left to buy.

Wishing you a lovely weekend,
Florence x

* After going to the cinema one night, a friend and I sat chatting in my car when, around midnight, we suddenly saw a badger appear from the passageway between two houses and then waddle off down the pavement. I haven't actually seen a live badger before (just many dead ones on the road) and so wasn't quite prepared for how adorably they walk, how wonderfully vast their bottoms are, or for their propensity to use pavements in a human way. It was a wonderful sighting. I'd always thought Frances was a bear and hadn't noticed her badgery stripes until revisiting the images just now, but being able to now tie that in to my recent sighting, I don't feel too distressed by her change of fur.
SaveSave
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Friday, 2 December 2016

Small-Scale Sewing, Large-Scale Tidying, Choosing Fabrics & a Facebook Page


I've been working on the same English paper piecing project for months now, but recently I've had a short break to tend to some piecing in Liberty Tana lawns, a snippet of which is shown above (frustratingly, both are for different projects that I can't share here until next year). The change of project gave me that feeling I have in the depths of winter when I've been wearing the same jumpers in rotation for months and then someone hands me a new one to wear (I'm not sure who that nameless jumper-hander is...in reality it's likely to be a delivery driver as it's probably one that I treated myself to). But either way, like the jumper, the sewing project was shiny and new, and therefore invigorating.

This diversionary project was at a much smaller scale than my current one and that brought an interesting revelation with it: it produces a very diminutive pile of off-cuts and fabric debris. Afterwards, it felt like tidying up the desk in a doll's house. (Which incidentally, does the fascination with those ever go away? We had one that was handed down and it had tiny light bulbs suspended from the ceiling of each room controlled by miniature switches on the walls. I haven't seen it for years, so I'm imagining it may have been lost in a house move, but I think I could still happily spend hours decorating one - I may keep that in reserve as a project for when I retire...a mere twenty-five years away).


Although the cutting table by-products were small in scale, the room was in just as much disarray as with any other project while I was deciding on what combination of fabrics to use. My parents happened to pop over and ventured up to the loft to see me one day when Tana lawns were strewn across the floor and their lovely faces looked discretely aghast, as though they'd just discovered that the messy teenager who they believed they'd said goodbye to twenty years ago was still actually alive and well. I realised the difference is that the messy teenager didn't care who saw the mess...the grown-up version felt slightly mortified. I'm not sure that people can comprehend the way that fabrics can quickly snowball into massive piles all over a room unless they sew themselves. Every time that I tidy my sewing room (which is often as I like to at least start with a blank canvas), even I lose the understanding of how it happens! But even with the best intentions, I find it almost impossible to tidy-as-I-go. For me, creativity has an element of 'mad professor' about it that doesn't seem to combine well with the neat-freak that lives in me the rest of the time. 


The fabric-choosing process is something that I've been thinking about quite a lot recently. In every other area of sewing, I feel completely happy in my own company barely noticing the hours drifting by, but sometimes when I fail to find a combination of fabrics that work well together after several hours of trialling them, I can begin to feel oddly lost and lonely in the task of chasing that elusive well-balanced combination. I'd been discussing this with my sister shortly before embarking on this project and once I'd begun she very kindly appeared at the end of my phone as a sounding board and not only analysed every combination that I ran by her, but also texted over images of swatches that she'd found online of possible alternatives that might work. On Sunday evening my mother joined in too and I finished that weekend of choosing fabrics with my sanity thoroughly intact. I think there's a case for there being a website dedicated solely to the process of assisting other sewers in choosing fabrics. Typing that, I'm suddenly remembering a book by Arabella Weir that I think came out about 15 years ago, entitled Does My Bum Look Big in This? This website could be something more along the lines of Does My Quilt Look Good in This? And unlike the first question, where the only answer is 'No, your bottom looks awesome in everything you put on it', posters on the site would be actively hoping for constructive criticism and honesty. 


In other news, I was talking to someone recently about Facebook. I don't really love Facebook as a platform so I've never given it too much thought, but when he said that having a page was a really good way to document things that: a) didn't merit a whole blog post b) weren't necessarily visual enough to want to put on Instagram and c) required more words than Twitter allowed, I suddenly realised that he may have a point. I barely use Twitter because of the 140 character limit as it's too time-consuming trying to work out how to convey a message while still maintaining basic levels of grammar and punctuation and I probably only post a photo to Instagram once or twice a week. So, if you'd like to follow my new Facebook page, you can find it here - I'll probably be posting about fairly random stuff (I know I'm tempting you with my focus and clear vision for my page!) - I'm guessing it will be a mixture of sewing, books, news, podcasts, films and generally things that I've seen and found interesting and I will also let you know when there's a new blog post up here. 

Despite having run a Facebook page for Squeebles for several years, there are still things that I found confusing about the set up process for my own page - like why it says that I'm not permitted to have an @username and why it won't let me change my page name from what sounds in retrospect rather long and convoluted...but I'm going to ignore those things for now. 

Finally, thank you so much for the interesting conversation following my recent post about needles - I have ordered some Bohin needles to trial at one commenter's suggestion and will report back! But otherwise, I'm still happy with my John James, even though one poster raised concerns that they're actually made in China! This was rather crushing news, but when I phoned and asked, John James said that they still make many needles types in Redditch, so not everything is outsourced at least. 

This weekend, I am nursing a cold, so will mostly be sewing and watching films or listening to audio books. If you have any recommendations, please do leave them in the comments. 

Which reminds me, while sewing the pieces at the top of this post, I watched Somerset Maughan's The Painted Veil on iPlayer and it was wonderful and would possibly go down on my list of top ten films. As per the trailer, the first portion of the film depicts a relatively shallow and formulaic life, but once the location has shifted to the site of the cholera epidemic things seems to completely change - the scenery is stunning and atmospheric and the on-screen chemistry between the characters is incredible and the storyline totally captivating. Sadly, it's now fallen off iPlayer, but it is available to buy for a little over £3, here, if you're interested. 

Wishing you a lovely weekend, 
Florence x
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