At school I loved textiles. Getting to make my own things with the sewing machine was my favourite thing to do. In fact at my graduation from medical school my Dad turned up wearing a tie I had made him when I was 11 at school (and hand painted awfully!).
So much has been happening in the last 12 months; I've changed jobs, moved house, applied (successfully) for specialist training, passed a membership exam, passed the 1st year of my part-time MSc and both met and married the love of my life. It's been quite hectic.
I told myself that I was going to find some me-time in there somewhere.
Very sweetly hubby let me spend some of our wedding pennies on a sewing machine, and I got bought the Great British Sewing Bee book for my birthday.
I'm a bit of a perfectionist. I just want to get everything right immediately, which doesn't always (...or ever) happen. Because of that I thought I better not start with the beautiful tweed jacket and in fact start with something simple.
Since before Christmas I have been promising to make some cushion covers, so that's what I did.
They were pretty simple. I used calico for the main bit of the cushion and dupion silk for the contrast. I adore the rough bobbly bits on dupion. I'd furnish the whole house in it if it wasn't a bit strange. Hubby chose the blue to go with our sofa (which was very kindly donated to us when we moved house).
I had forgotten how hard it is to sew in straight lines, so I'll need a bit more practice. Mostly I'm impressed that I didn't sew my fingers to the cushion covers.
The only fiddly thing was turning each of the ties inside out, it was like wrestling with dead worms. Not that I wrestle worms often.
I'm really really pleased with the finished result. I know that they're very simple, especially for anyone who is very crafty, but they are such a big achievement for me.
Once we've moved house in a couple of weeks I hope to try a couple more bits from the book. Perhaps the PJ bottoms and then maybe I'll move on to one of the simple dresses. I might even treat myself to a dressmakers dummy.