I have to look at all as an opportunity, even if it is not something I would choose if I had different options. Anyway the summer has been filled with custom creations, and the blanket from hell in particular gave me the option to watch lots of quilting videos and think about the direction I would like to travel in next.
For my birthday my son gave me some money and I bought some Kaffe Fasset shot solids for a wall hanging for myself which I’m working on at the moment. It will be my own, modern interpretation of a garden quilt.
I spent quite a lot of time watching Eleanor Burns. I love her zeal, and her back story, and the back stories to all those quilt. I was able to pick up a 1929 copy of Ruth E Finley’s Old Patchwork Quilts and The Women Who Made Them, look on Abebooks if you are in the UK, as they wanted £65 on Amazon. I got a couple of Eleanor’s books too and Christmas may well involve Bears in The Woods wall hangings. I also bought Marsha Radtke’s A Baltimore Album.
Thinking about tradition made me look to our own quilting heritage here in the UK. Did we have one? was it all borrowed? I bought another book Quilts of the British Isles by Janet Rae. It was an eye opener and I have been inspired by a number of the quilts, particularly the military quilts and am hoping to contact a local military tailor to see if I can have off cuts to make into a quilt perhaps for the Royal British Legion to auction.
At the back of the book is the a quilt, after the Glasgow School which I intend to use as the basis for a silk cot quilt. I want to hand applique and hand quilt it although I don’t intend to do needle turn applique – I thought a using the technique where you sew the pieces onto fuseable interfacing but using a silk gauze instead. I ultimately would like to enter it into some competitions but when all this will ever happen, who’s to say?
Oh, and by the way, if you like the paintings on the last two posts they can be found over here.
Apparently there’s no point crying over it but to be honest I haven’t felt like doing much else since last Friday. Now, probably, the way I’m mostly feeling is down to that annoying little visitor, you know the one that ruins your good knickers and turns
you me into a straw-brained, hay-haired scarecrow of a woman.
Or perhaps it’s to do with my visit to the Harbour Centre; this is not a place for the faint hearted and I’m not sure if it’s a place with any answers. I wanted it to be a magic bullet and I suppose I have realised that there isn’t one: something I have known since atleast 1988. You would think that that would be long enough for something to sink in.
Magic bullet or not, answers or not, it is now this long since I had a drink:
I don’t want to become a booze bore any more than I want to be, but fear I am, a stroke bore. Maybe I just worry about being a bore? Things have been a bit different in our house. Apparently, according to the woman who did my assessment last week, I’m doing well: avoiding triggers, changing routines, trying to occupy my time differently. I know that, if I challenge the voices in my head, this is the case; it doesn’t stop those voices shouting loudly at me about the wasted time, wasted life, wasted money.
How the hell do I do this forever?
In other slightly less bonkers news, trailer tenting will be resuming the weekend after next.
I would just like to wave at Him Up North and say how much I enjoyed his post this morning.