A couple of months ago I said to Frog, ‘There are all these cookery programmes on television but why is there never anything about sewing?’ And then, lo and behold, a few weeks ago, ‘The Great British Sewing Bee’ appeared on BBC2.
I’m hooked. Although the programme spends too much time on the sewers and not enough on the sewing (of course), it’s giving me ideas, revealing to me just how much I don’t know, and legitimising a passion that has long been one of my guilty secrets (‘clothes are frivolous’, ‘colour and texture are women’s things and therefore not important’ etc etc).
I’m hooked. Although the programme spends too much time on the sewers and not enough on the sewing (of course), it’s giving me ideas, revealing to me just how much I don’t know, and legitimising a passion that has long been one of my guilty secrets (‘clothes are frivolous’, ‘colour and texture are women’s things and therefore not important’ etc etc).
Strangely, at around the time the programme started, I had decided to stop writing for a while. It was too difficult to find the time and the space. The dog hated me doing it. I was worn out after eight months of intense concentration. Sewing raced to fill the gap, albeit largely in its ‘making do and mending’ guise – which is something else that has the function of legitimising my passion (I’m ‘saving’ money, not spending it on unnecessary things like clothes). As follows.
We are lucky enough to be going on holiday to a Greek island in the summer and an Ikea bag, I have discovered, makes an ideal beach bag, as it’s a good colour and big enough and light enough for all those essential items for a day walking and beaching – mat, towel, swimmers, book, water, suncream, map. Its straps unfortunately have Ikea blazoned on them and I’ve never liked that. Then I came across some webbing that I’d used many years ago to turn a shop-bought hand-bag into a shoulder-bag. That bag is now defunct but the webbing lives on.
My sunhat is too big. It slips over my ears when I get hot (and sweaty). While going through my drawer of bits, I came across the ties from a long-dead linen skirt. Here is one of them trimming my hat and tightening the brim.
I made a shirt in which to travel (hot ferry but necessity for modesty) but decided it was boring. I’ve tried to cheer it up with some material left over from a dress I made last year. I still don’t like it.
And then I splashed out. I bought two lots of Indian cotton from the newly expanded (and recommended) Exeter Fabric Shop with which to make beach dresses.
One of the patterns I’m using is thirty-five years old. I last used it the year Frog and I married and I wore the dress until it fell apart. Frog has persuaded me to use the pattern again, even though I wondered if it was too young for me (but then of course reusing patterns is so thrifty . . .).