My daughter has inherited her love of crafting from me so while she was feeling poorly on the weekend we did a little low grade crafting. God's Eyes. I don't remember what else to call them but I remember from primary school that we did them all the time. Along with giant hula hoop weaving. This was the 70s.
I thought I would start with something simple and fairly easy and C got into it straight away. Soon enough we were idly chatting like a couple of old ladies and having a lovely time (with frequent temperature takings along the way).
Here's the young one concentrating very hard.
And here are the finished products.
Its amazing what still remains in your memory from primary school. And for me we're talking about 38 years ago (having just typed that it depresses me no end!).
I think I wrote about being very inspired by my mother-in-law to start quilting again and so it has started! After a slight hiccup at Spotlight (me not looking at price tags - idiot) I started the laborious task of cutting. Rotary cutter, I do not have, so have just used the standard old scissors and template. This is a time when I should be calmly thinking of other things while cutting but I can sense I get a little slapdash towards the end. But look at these lovely fabrics!
Only another thousand to cut and I'll be done!
On another note, after getting home from work, school and childcare I happened to finally take in the devastating mess of a wardrobe I have and do something about it. Lately I've been reading a lot of style blogs and how to improve your wardrobe. For years I've kept clothes in my wardrobe that I haven't worn or have an emotional attachment to, so much so that I can hardly get the clothes that I do wear in to them. The gorgeous Laura Ashley top that I wore to my sisters wedding, for instance, I've never worn again. The 70s caftan dresses that I know I will never slip over my head. The disastrous sewing experiments that can only be relegated to the rubbish bin. Time for them to go!
I was ruthless. And I know this is only the beginning.
Now all I need is a stylist to help me with the clothes I have left.
I know. Third world problems.