Little apples, little people

As I manhandled (or maybe that should be womanhandled) my oh so very large and so absolutely Charming Flowers (I must think of a different name as I find that one quite painful) about the ironing board last night, I began to understand why so many quilters stick to wallhangings and baby quilts.

Spot the pesky squirrel

I am also quite geometrically challenged and with an almost square quilt I have moments of confusion about which way is up and which across, which resulted in my sewing my pieced strip along, rather than perpendicular to, the selvedge. (Unlike  my friend from Ted and Bunny, I do not find unpicking at all therapeutic, especially when it is 7 foot long and it is 10 o'clock at night and I know that I won't sleep easy if I don't unpick every last stitch and press out the holes before I retire).

Little Apples

So as a little light relief for the weekend I thought I would show you a nice little baby quilt I made earlier in the year (every time I say here's one I made earlier I think of the Blue Peter advent crown and a childhood where you could buy sticky-backed plastic off the roll in the back corner of Woolworths [this is a peculiarly British reminiscence and will no doubt be utterly mystifying to my international readers, but if I attempt to explain the significance it will involve a meandering disquisition on matters sociocultural and historical here in Old Blighty, and would involve so many parentheses and much venturing up byways, that I would be sure to get Lost and Distracted {which I fear that I may be already}]).

Here's one I made earlier

So where was I, I think to myself as I extricate myself from a Parenthetical Thicket. Ah yes, a Rather Charming baby quilt which I made for a very sweet little chap earlier in the year (you will be glad to hear that I am dismissing all thoughts of Blue Peter from my head Quite Firmly, but I am finding that such a Firm Tone requires copious use of  the Upper Case).

The fabric I used was Little Apples by Aneela Hoey (she says in a Firmly Informative Tone), which I really like because of a family association with Apples and Squirrels (I must admit that the Squirrel Association is not an entirely happy one but the passage of time has enabled me to Smile at that Peculiar Irony).

Charming stitching

The pattern for this quilt is a Charmingly Easy one from the Cloud Nine blog - it is a free pattern and you will find it here. It is also a very good pattern for the Terminally Disorganized and Unexpected Arrivals, as it is genuinely very quick to make. The quilt is tied with embroidery thread in the centres of the panels, and the same thread is also used for some simple running stitch quilting along the edges and seam lines. (The Little Apples fabric is still available from JB Quilting and Ebay, she says helpfully, in case you wanted to make one later.)

So if you want a quilt that you can make in a weekend, one which will fit on your table for basting, can be pressed with not a hint of manhandling and which can be hand-quilted without tears in an evening, then this little cot quilt is for you.

Charmingly small

Unfortunately it looks rather meagre on a double bed, so it's back to wrestling those very Charming Flowers to the ground for me ...

In the meantime, hello to Lindsey and Mama Smith at Project Little Smith who is, rather intriguingly, an architect turned homemaker and takes very lovely pictures.



   

Sewing with Lola Nova

I am sure that the blog Lola Nova - Whatever Lola Wants needs no introduction, but if you have yet to visit, you are in for a treat. And so was I in for a treat today, when the truly beautiful book, Simple Sewing with Lola Nova appeared on my doorstep (it is not out officially in the US until the spring, but wherever you are you can get it already from The Book Depository, who will ship worldwide).

A surprise in the post

I was lucky enough to win this in the giveaway held by Lola Nova (aka the very talented Alexandra Smith) - it's not often that you win a book that is already on your wishlist, and exceedingly wonderful not to have to wait for Christmas to get a peek inside.

And I have to say that it is a really lovely book - quite different from your average sewing manual. The projects are different and individual, and the Lola Nova style shines through. So often when you read craft books you feel that you have seen it all before, but this book is full of projects with a difference, and there are lots that I want to try.

Things to make and do

The photography by Yuki Sugiura is really atmospheric, and the design as a whole really conveys the Lola look. I love the way that the sections are called Boho, Natural, Vintage, Eclectic and Whimsy, which really give you an indication of her individual take on crafting - this really is crafting with a difference, and with a very definite and unique sense of style.

Sweet dress

The range of projects runs from things for children to wear to adornments for your house and office and even some beautiful stitched and embellished notecards - things for you to make for yourself and for you to give as presents.

Pretty skirt

There are very clear step-by-step photographs and instructions to get you through any tricky bits, together with templates for all the patterns, and each project is labelled with the skill level required.

Multipurpose

I am rather pleased to see instructions for a Lola-style multipurpose Hook Book, and also a rather snazzy bag, both of which I have admired on the blog and in the Lola Nova Etsy shop before now, and am also planning to make some Everything Baskets. The Artist's Pouches would be good to mass-produce for Christmas presents (Princess Bunchy already having placed an order for presents for friends).

Snazzy bag

 So all in all,  I can genuinely highly recommend Simple Sewing with Lola Nova by Alexandra Smith - thank you Lola Nova and well done!

Anxiously and impulsively covering up

I fear that this post may be in the nature of a confession, a baring of the soul which reveals a deeper truth about my nature. Or then again it may not, but that is for the reader to decide.

So I take a deep breath and reveal that I have a penchant, perhaps it may even be termed an addiction, certainly a compulsion, for filling my life with notebooks. And please note the plural - this is not one modest little notebook deep in the recesses of my bag; this is notebooks lined up on my desk, a notebook by my bedside, a large notebook in my filing tray, and spare notebooks waiting, in case of emergency, on my shelves.

In the past I have been quite free and easy in my choice of notebook, and was particularly attracted by pretty covers, but then in a fit of sophistication I moved onto a flirtation with black Moleskines in the hope that I would benefit from the Chatwin/Hemingway association. However, I began to find the weight of tradition, not to mention the weight of the notebook in my bag, a little oppressive.

Then I discovered the Moleskine cahier, and such is my enchantment with the wonder of the Moleskine cahier I am sure that I am not exaggerating if I term it an obsession.

Their infinite variety is most beguiling: they come in three different sizes (small, large and extra large) which I find a useful correlative to purpose. And with lines or squares or plain pages, depending on whether one feels literary, mathematical, or artistic - needless to say that I have dallied with all three. Cahiers also come in packs of three, which is strangely comforting (rather like having those mega packs of loo roll in the cupboard, it means that the chilling prospect of running out in an emergency is averted).

A nice little pocket at the back

But I must admit these notebooks have one drawback - the buff cover has a sort of minimalist, even scholarly, appeal, but they do not look quite a pretty as I would like when lined up on my desk.

Pretty

Luckily Michelle and her patterns have come to my rescue - Michelle does a pattern here (called a Swatch Book Cover) which is for a really easy to sew cover for the small and large sized Moleskine cahiers, and I have been running up pretty covers for all and sundry (it is an excellent pattern for last-minute presents it is so quick to make up).

You don't need a lot of fabric, so it is a great way to use up fat quarters, or left-over pieces from other projects.

And Michelle has also put me out of misery at my uncovered extra large cahier - she has just released a pattern called an Idea Pouch which fits the extra large cahiers (as well as iPads, but sadly I don't have an iPad) and joy of joys, it has pen slots and buttons on the front. You will not be surprised to hear that I have bought this pattern and am in the process of making the all-important fabric decisions. But first my Book of Recipes for a Frugal Housewife needs a cover - I feel that this combination looks suitably culinary. What do you think?

And before I go I will just leave you with a very deep thought. A renowned French philosopher and cultural theorist by the name of Jean Baudrillard took it upon himself to write about the significance of covers in the domestic interior. He uses the word redundancy, and sees such 'overworking of signs of possession' as indicating not only the 'intention to possess, but to show how well one possesses' in 'an anxious compulsion to sequestration'.* As I anxiously go to count my doilies and refold my tablecloths, I wonder at what point domestic coverings become redundant. Are patchwork quilts allowed, or is it irredeemably bourgeois to sleep under anything but a solitary, scratchy grey army blanket? I feel sorry for Mrs Baudrillard - I bet she wasn't allowed flowery notebook covers on her desk.

*Jean Baudrillard, For a Critique of the Political Economy of the Sign (1981)

Knitting and dreaming

There is something very soothing about sitting on the sofa of an evening, knitting a few rows, and winding down from the day.

And knit, knit, knit is better than stitch, stitch, stitch for sweet dreams. I spent a night last week tossing and turning as I sewed in an endless train of zippers in my sleep.

But I have never had nightmares about knitting, I am sure - although to ensure that sitting and knitting in the half-light is stress-free I need the sort of simple pattern that I could, well, knit in my sleep.

Jane Brocket's pattern for these nifty little hanger covers fits the bill perfectly (you can find the pattern here) - easy enough to knit without your dreams turning to nightmares, and quick enough for a last-minute, charmingly retro present.

I love the clever little flowers which you make by winding yarn around a needle - rather like the fluffy balls I loved making when I was small.

And this can also count as a Thrifty Activity perfect for enhancing your halo of modest and frugal domesticity - I made these with yarn from my leftovers bag, and so can you too.

So there you are, a Thrifty Hint, a cure for insomnia, and a transfer from WIP to the finished list all in the space of one evening - what more could you want?

I have also just noticed that lots of new friends have joined the jolly party at my little cottage, so do go and say hello and welcome them to the throng:

Jodi at Farm Country Comforts

Deborah at Simply Miss Luella

Sarah Jane at Chantille Fleur

Annie at Moving On

Thea at Hearts and Bluebells

Miss Organic Fairtrade Knickers at I Blame Enid Blyton

Saffa and her lovely handmade paper art

Victoria at Tangled Sweetpea

Sophie at A Good Year

I do love blog names and often wonder how people think them up - the ones above are all so enticing, you just have to go and look.  I think I have put down all the new friends - I am never very good at keeping track of who has just arrived, so do tell me if I have missed you out, or if you have been following for ages and I have only just noticed, I prostrate myself most apologetically.

[And if you were wondering about the admirals, yes, they are still bothering me, and I am only doing this because otherwise I would be having nightmares about them and their stripes all the night long. I had better go and knit a bit of my favourite simple sock pattern to ward off any watery dreams. It is such an easy pattern that I can knit and nod away for hours, and the woolly stripes are so much more comforting than gold braid.]

The Year Without A Summer

I know, it happened in 1816, not 2012, and it was far worse than this - for a start we are not going to starve, even if the outdoor tomatoes are all blighted, and the marigolds mildewy.

But sunny days seem to have been few and far between, and the ones that have happened have been mainly when I have been inside at the computer, grappling with the sailors, or sweating over the smoothing iron.

But mustn't grumble (I always think of this book when I say that - well worth a read, and um, squirmingly truthful at times, not to mention screamingly funny), as we have managed to bottle up some of that elusive sunshine, and I have to say, it tastes jolly nice.

Sunshine in a jar

We used half raspberries and half blackberries with a solitary giant strawberry as makeweight - bounty brought home from a rained-off county show by dear Papa - the largest blackberries I have ever seen in all my born days.

(And if you are coveting one of these rather wonderful boards, a good friend of mine has a shop here where she sells such wares.)

Making winter gifts: things to do with a fat quarter part 3

January is on its last legs, thank goodness, and although the thought of February does not exactly fill me with untrammelled glee, I am beginning to be of the opinion that Emma and Mrs Thrifty are right, and Making Winter is the way to go.

What with the teeth falling out and the dodgy hand, not to mention the brown paper bag over my head to cover the only part of me visible above the endless layers of knitwear encompassing my rapidly inflating muffin top (or perhaps that should be muffin middle and bottom as well), I had begun to feel that the only Making that I was fit for this Winter was Making a Break for the Fireside.

A robin isn't just for Christmas (from Sew Sweet Violet)

However, I have been to see the nice lady with the computer program for retraining recalcitrant hands, and she encouraged me to try a little light needlework or knitting before I return to her cosy office and warm congratulations and patting on the back at my skill in playing computer games (sorry, Activities) that my children could have mastered before they were out of the cradle. (My left hand pinch grip might be pathetically weak, but oh I have such control of the movement - see, all that sitting by the fire and knitting and sewing might have overstrained things, but it has helped me to top marks in Control and a big happy gold star [I have always had Control Freak tendencies, so make that two stars].)

A winter gift

Having had severe needle withdrawal symptoms since overdosing on housework with consequent collateral damage to my pinch grip, I almost managed to skip back to the car (except that the hamster cheek kept bobbing up and down (mainly down) inside the large scarf and impeding my progress).

And so here is one I made earlier - a dinky, zippy bag known as a Ditty Bag (pattern from Keyka Lou), which I stitched up as a present for a very special person - and just the thing to make a small inroad into my embarrassingly large collection of fat quarters (which have been becoming even more embarrassingly guilt-inducing over the last few weeks as I pondered why I had a collection of fat quarters compendious enough to keep my family and friends in winter gifts for the next century when I couldn't sew a thing what with my dodgy hands and dodgy teeth to boot).

As ever, the lovely Keyka Lou pattern was easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy (very important when you are feeling small), and easily completed over the course of a quiet Sunday afternoon, listening to the radio, and getting distracted along the way. It comes in three sizes - I chose the large one as consuming the largest amount of fat quarter, but even so had enough left out of two fat quarters for little purses or wallets like the ones I made here and here.

The fabric was from the Annie's Farm Stand range (available from the Fat Quarter Shop), and I have a some handy little hints for you (as you know, I have a penchant for handy hints).

To speed up cutting-out time, if I have to cut multiples of a particular pattern piece I do a bit of folding and stacking - layer the two fat quarters together, and fold them over or concertina them if more than one piece of each colourway, and you can cut out all the pieces at once. (For these little bag and purse projects super-accuracy is not needed.) This also works well with interfacing.

It is well worth buying a teflon pressing sheet for interfacing - it saves glue on the iron and the ironing board, and tears at bedtime, and in my mind does justify the outlay.

And if you have so many fat quarters that you don't know what to do, weep not - you could make some pretty baskets like this (instructions here and no pattern required), or go into mass present production as I did here (and they were all a great success at Christmas time, I am pleased to tell you), or even another thrifty little present (those fat quarters are a historic cost, so you can feel very thrifty about using them up).

As to my hand, it is so cold here today that I am losing touch with my extremities - all is quite numb. I wonder if I could squeeze on another pair of gloves and some more socks. I have taken the paper bag off though, and am wearing just the one scarf . . .

PS My January has been singularly unproductive, but if you head over to Lily's Quilts, you can see what lovely things the busy bees over there have been making, as it is Fresh Sewing Day when everyone has to stand up and be counted. (She shifts uneasily on her seat and points to one solitary Ditty Bag).

Gifts from the past

Travelling hopefully towards Christmas as the third Sunday in Advent arrives I feel the memories of Christmas past rising up to greet me, and this rolling out of the carpet of seasonal memories is one of those things that makes Christmas special, a time to take stock and think back and forward in both joy and sadness, as I once more pause to ponder with Floss.

Some of the memories are of things long since gone, and some are of the comforting continuities in life. And one of the continuities in our house is carpet farming - just as I think that those days are past, I find that carpet farming is once more underway and the riding school in business again - Princess Bunchy tells me that the riding school is an essential part of the celebrations for her, and that the mere sight of it makes her think of Christmas.

And the sight of my old riding school, so old that I couldn't possibly tell you how many years ago it entered my life, transports me back to the Christmas way back in history when this riding school was my special present - the Christmas when I was about five years old, one that stands out amongst many because it was one of those small tragedies of childhood that are never forgotten. This was the year that I woke up so very early and made a most tragically fatal mistake which cast a shadow over the whole day.

I awoke so early that all the family were still fast asleep, so early that it was long before the agreed time for waking my parents, and as I lay in bed in the dark I could see the mysterious lumpiness of the pillowcase overflowing with presents at the end of my bed, and the enticingly large parcel sitting alongside.

No one was stirring, the clock seemed to have stopped in its tracks, and I was consumed with desire to know what all those packages contained. And I could not contain myself but got out of bed, sat on the floor in the dim light, and started opening my presents one by one, all alone and solitary. I remember the riding stable, and the horses and riders, and fences and animals, but I don't remember one of those other presents - I opened every single one, with no one around to share my joy and excitement, and then a couple of hours later I had to sit and watch my sister open her own overflowing pillowcase of presents, very slowly it seemed, in the painful knowledge that I had burned my boats and jumped the gun, and completely taken the shine off the day.

From that year on, every Christmas eve I put my pillowcase out downstairs, safely out of temptation's way, and I resolved to open my presents as slowly  as possible, so that never again would I have to sit and watch others open theirs, but they could sit and wait for me to finish my careful unwrapping. And I have kept to that resolution ever since.

So Princess Bunchy's orderly arrangements of horses and sheep, and tractors and fences, all open up a box of memories of my childhood, my children's childhood, a long line of years marching back into the past, with faces long departed smiling out at me as my mind travels backward in time.

I hope that you have some happy memories of Christmas past, and more to be made and stored in Christmas present and Christmas yet to come.

The weight of tradition

I am running a little behind this week (It's only Monday, you say. But this is what is left over from last week, I respond, a touch plaintively.) and so I am still on the second Sunday in Advent, pausing with Floss, and only a day late (it's the thought that counts).

Festive vignette

Whether my thoughts will count, I am not sure, but I can feel that giant Tree of Tradition looming between me and the weak winter sun, and the weight of obligation swinging above my head.

Festivities

Tradition can be a bit of a millstone, but don't let it shackle you by the neck - cut loose and walk on (being careful to drop it behind you, rather than straight on to your toes). The only obligation you have to others is to smile and be pleasant, and say please and thank you nicely and sincerely - the rest is optional.

Weak at the thought

If the thought of cooking for the 23 people squeezed into your very small house fills you with horror and keeps you awake at night, then think up a new tradition which will enable you to be a beaming host/ess rather than a snarling one.

A season of silly hats

Perhaps someone with a bigger house and more plates is desperate to hold the party, but thinks they can't because everyone absolutely has to squeeze into Aunty Grumpy's bijou residence whether they like it or not? Perhaps you could do two manageably small parties, or alternate years? Or maybe dig a great big hole in the garden and go and hide in it (just remember to arrange the leaves carefully on top so that no one can see your retreat) . . .

A season of thrift and recycling

Then you can concentrate on the happy traditions, the ones that transport you back down the long line of Christmases past, only pausing at the ones that are smiling to greet you. So often these happy moments come down from the attic in battered cardboard boxes (smelling slightly of mouse).

A season of recycling memories

As you pull out the decorations, one by one, the memories come flooding forth, attached to those glitter-encrusted confections of polystyrene and cardboard that your children made in the days when their needs were simple and their vocabulary limited; the bird with the broken beak which is the sole relic of your childhood dreams; the box of carefully coordinated bells and bows marked 'Good taste 15 years ago', which now possess a disappointingly tawdry air.

Beware of the mistletoe

And then there are the words: Christmas is full of words - carols, and stories, and insincere thank you letters, and heated arguments over the right way to cook a turkey. And everything has been said and done and written so many times before, and so much better, that Christmas is a work of fiction from start to finish, an imaginary narrative of bonhomie and homecoming.

Dreaming of a white Christmas

I have my own special Christmas book full of poetry and prose, carols and songs, quotations and verses, and a warm glow of pictures of the past. It was a present to me twenty years ago and (unlike so many presents) I have continued to treasure it, and get it out again every December to wallow in the words of imaginary Christmases in story and history. There is no weight of tradition to burden one here - these Christmases are long gone, and so are those who people the pictures, smiling out of the pages, frozen in time and silently acquiescent in our dreams.

A new tradition in the making

But these stories also show that Christmas can be anything you want to make of it: happy or sad, remembered or forgotten, treasured or dreaded. The important thing is to write your own story, just how you want it, choose your own colours for the pictures, and remember that if it doesn't go quite how you wanted this time, it's like gardening - there's always next year waiting to give you a chance to do it differently.

A present from a friend far away

And if you want to bask in a warm glow of festive nostalgia, my special Christmas book, although out of print, is still available on Amazon here and here - starting price only a penny (which of course sets off a whole new train of nostalgia and reminiscence about geese and old men . . . .).

And here is one that I made earlier, accompanied by a steady gaze

An unsuspecting rustic and a couple of winners

I told you that I would find an unsuspecting rustic to pick out the lucky winners of Amy's patterns, and luckily the Ploughboy bought three home for the weekend so I was able to buttonhole the nearest one as they attempted to leave the premises en masse.

I am rather good at this sort of thing

The Little Stranger tried to move in on the deal, but I feel that the attention has gone to her head rather, and she shows signs of living up to her Scottie heritage and thinking herself Top Dog, in spite of her nearness to the ground, so unsuspecting rustic it had to be.

A strategically placed chair soon put paid to any delusions of grandeur on the part of a Scottie dog with a stripy tail (no, it's not paint so I don't think she will be heading off to Crufts any time soon, unless she finds a bootleg source of Grecian 2000).

Was that you?

Such nice boys as these agricultural types are, he cooperated most charmingly and graciously, holding out the names for the camera, although I suspect that the smiling and bemused air veiled a most uncertain understanding of the significance of 'picking winners for my blog giveaway'.

The hands of an unsuspecting rustic

And so congratulations to Mary Jane's Tearoom (or Mary Jane's teapot, as Princess Bunchy so helpfully wrote down on a piece of paper in case anyone was mislaid or took wings in the breeze) who will soon be the proud possessor of a Ruched Happy Bag pattern . . .

An agricultural encounter

 . . . congratulations to dear Frances, too, whose picture is a teacup, and thus continues the comforting theme of tea and cake from my previous post; a Hexiecase pattern is yours, my dear.

Tea and cakes all round

So if the lovely winners could please come forward to curtsey before the cheering crowd and simper fetchingly at the unsuspecting rustic, and then apprise me of their email addresses, I can forward these to the lovely Amy.

Commiserations to those who did not encounter the youthful hand of agriculture - however, I will be joining in the Sew Mama Sew Giveaway very shortly in a festive bonanza not to be missed, so pop back soon. And if you would like to buy yourself one of Amy's patterns to make a few last-minute pressies, they are available in her Etsy shop here.

A happy/hexie giveaway

As some of you might recall, my handmade Christmas looked like it was about to hit the buffers with a resounding crash when my hand decided to give up the ghost and go into retirement just as I was about to embark upon a mass manufacture of Ruched Happy Bags.

But luckily my friend Amy of During Quiet Time, whose pattern it is, chose that moment to line up some ruched bags of her own making neatly upon the shelves of her Etsy shop which quickly found their way into my shopping basket. These came winging their way over the oceans to arrive on my doormat and save me from much weeping and wailing and frothing at the mouth at my temporary incapacity.

Such beautiful bags they are, the recipients can't fail to be pleased with them, and I am most please also with the little Kokeshi Doll ornament which kept them company on their journey to Old Blighty. She is such a sweetie, and there are a whole bunch of her friends in Amy's shop if you fancy one yourself.

Now Amy, the kind soul that she is, has offered two of her patterns as prizes in a giveaway to you, dear readers, so that you may have your own handmade Christmas. One prize is a Ruched Happy Bag pattern (and to prove how easy it is to follow, here is my own version).

And the other prize is a Hexiecase pattern - here, in best Blue Peter tradition, is one I made earlier:

All you have to do is go to the During Quiet Time Etsy shop and come back and tell me which item in the shop you would put on your Christmas list (and also tell me if you have a preference as to which pattern you would like to win).

The giveaway is open to all, wherever you live, and I will find some unsuspecting rustic to pick the winner at the weekend - so that's a guarantee of howling gales and teeming rain, as is the tradition when I pick winners. For the weather today, I will refer you to the first paragraph of Jane Eyre.