I’ve just finished reading Laura’s Handmade Life by Amanda Addison, which is a light, fun and engaging novel about life, work, relationships, children, and, most crucially, sewing. I really enjoyed it, and as, coincidentally, I read it only a few days after handsewing lavender bags for my great-aunt’s 95th birthday present (made with lavender I grew and dried myself. Oh yes, feel those smugness vibes) it has filled me with enthusiasm for taking up sewing. The only snag is that I can’t sew. I mean I can, just about, sew a button on. And I can manage enough running stitch or back stitch for a lavender bag, but I don’t know any other stitches, I can’t darn or hem, and couldn’t use a sewing machine if my chocolate supplies depended on it.
And it’s so frustrating. My grandmother was an excellent needlewoman – she made all of my mum’s clothes when she was a child, up to and including her wedding dress and bridesmaids’ dresses. I’m sure she would have loved to have taught me, she did in fact teach me to knit, but I just wasn’t interested then, and now it’s too late.
But for a while now the habedashery department at John Lewis and the fabric stalls down Walthamstow market have been calling to me, and I’m more and more tempted to give in to the siren call. Watch this space.