But alas it is not to be: the Head Chef headed westwards for a weekend of forest gardening with the guru of that discipline, Martin Crawford (I can highly recommend his book on the subject - it is worth buying for the pictures alone), leaving poor Pomona to man the barricades, feed the multitudes, and generally fulfil her domestic destiny.
So, much as I yearned for a relaxing couple of days, stitching and knitting and generally getting to the end of something that I had started, no, it did not come to pass.
But I did find one or two little interludes in which to work on my QUIP (which is a QUilt In Progress), which may or may not become a QUIF (QUIlt Finished).
Buoyed up by the success of my baby quilt, I have decided to step up my game and size up by making a quilt for a sofa. You may wish to point out that bedding does not commonly come in sofa size, but the jump from cot to single seemed an inordinately large one, and my most loyal followers might remember the holiday sofa which generally makes its appearance in June, and my penchant for falling asleep on it. A sofa quilt would keep me warm, and thus enable me to remain dozing on the sofa for even longer.
|Bits of QUIP|
As do so many things in my life, this quilt happened by accident. I just went out to buy some yarn for Peggy Sue, but I had one of those embarrassing moments in the yarn shop (which happens to be my favourite fabric shop as well). I had spotted some suitable yarn stacked up in a glorious rainbow of colour in one of those triangular cubby holes favoured by yarn shops, and reached out to take one teeny, tiny little ball in lavender, just for a quick fondle, and suddenly the whole multi-coloured caboodle came cascading out.
Now I have a rather highly developed startle reflex, and am apt to shriek quite unnecessarily, as my son the General often informs me, and I did emit a teeny, tiny little squeal of dismay. Another customer looked at me in a rather puzzling way, not entirely sympathetic, and I crawled around the floor trying to pick up the yarn and cram it back into its triangle, to no avail as all the little balls bounced right back out again as fast as I put them in.
|QUIP taking shape|
It was no good, I had to come clean and admit my little accident to the very charming lady who owns the shop; I was then of course morally obliged to buy the yarn for Peggy Sue. And as I backed away from the yarn, my flustered gaze fell on a layer cake of Rose Parade fabric by Moda.
Just the thing for another easy quilt, I thought, the same amount of squares but twice the size - I''ll be able to whizz them up together in an afternoon and make a sofa warmer. Ever optimistic, you might say, and I think you might be right.
|First rule a diagonal line across 2 squares, RS together|
|Stitch parallel lines a quarter of an inch away either side|
I have always been irrationally fascinated by the fact that if you put two squares right sides together, rule along the diagonal, then stitch a parallel line a quarter-inch away on either side of the ruled line, and finally cut along the ruled line, as if by magic you produce two half-triangle squares. So this is what I did.
|Snip along the line|
And then when I had all my half-triangle squares I laid them out on our bed upstairs, and spent a great deal of time arranging and rearranging them, much to the bemusement of the Head Chef.
|Separate and press seam to one side|
And here is where I give you a hint on household safety. Do not start to run your bath, and then wander back into your bedroom to ponder over the arrangement of your QUIP squares, because you will start shifting the squares about in the pursuit of perfection, and your bath will surely overflow and cause a flood, unless you have a Head Chef on hand to turn the taps off in the nick of time.
|Hey presto! A magic half-triangle square|
And a little thrifty hint: do not then pull out the plug to drain out just enough water for you to get in the bath without causing another flood (remember Archimedes and his principle), and in the meantime wander back into the bedroom yet again to muse further on the ideal pattern of squares, for eureka, you will find that the water has all drained clean away and you will be faced with an empty bathtub, and if you are really determined on having a bath you will have to start running the water again (and you now know that this incurs a serious risk of flooding), not to mention the fact that you will have used up all the hot water, and the second bath will be lukewarm, and most dispiriting.
These hints come from one who knows, and I am beginning to wonder about the value of being a knowing sort, and would wish more to be an example to us all.