Thursday, 18 August 2011
One good thing: a ruched happy bag
I read somewhere that the key to happiness is to finish off every day by thinking of three good things that have happened to you during the day, and it will make you even happier if you write them down.
Today having turned out to be one of those days which has involved some metaphorical trudging through sludge, I decided that I must attempt the happy route this evening. So I raked through the gloom of the day and couldn't find anything to cheer me, but then I decided to look at my photos in the hope of finding something to smile about.
And lo and behold! I found the Ruched Happy Bag I made a little while ago. The lovely Amy at During Quiet Time asked me to test her pattern (just so that she could be sure it was idiot-proof), and here is the one I made. It was the very first zippy bag that I ever made, and I feel that it turned out rather well, especially as I made it when my dear Rose was away being fettled, so I had to use the clunkiest, crankiest sewing machine I have ever encountered in all my born days (and it didn't even have a zipper foot).
It was a very lovely, easy to follow pattern (and completely Pomona-proof), and I am going to make some more, as I think a Ruched Happy Bag will make a very happy present. And I might even make one for myself, for I am sure you can guess who laid claim to the butterfly one as soon as she spotted it. If you want a pattern for yourself you can get one in Amy's shop, but I warn you, she also sells other rather tempting things (don't ask me how I know . . .).
So that is the first happy thing. And the second thing is when a Little Stranger licks your face rather than trying to chew it.
And the third thing - I have had a lovely blogger and her husband come to stay in our B&B (do go and visit Barbara at Ramblings from an English Garden, she has such a nice blog), although it was sad to see them leave our little cottage.
And I have also bought a copy of Amy's Hexie Case pattern, and the pieces are all cut out and interfaced ready to go - that's four things already, so I am on a roll.
There, I think that I am heaving myself out of the sludge, and though the last lights of the west have gone, I can almost see morning at the brown brink eastward . . .