Memories - Part 1

This morning, wide awake again at 5.00 a.m. I was determined to get at least another half hours sleep.  I drifted off into a memory, my earliest stitching memory.  Mum was  (still is) an artist, a dressmaker and tailoress. So my early years were full of stories revolving around little stick men and funny drawings and the best dressed dolls in the world.  Sitting at her feet as the sewing machine treadle hypnotized me, I was in charge of the stray pins and fabric bits that fell to the floor. At the end of the sewing day when the blunt needle would be changed she drew out basic shapes - a cat, a dog, a square, a circle, a flower and would carefully go over the shape with the needle. These were my first hand sewing lessons and I was eager to learn. Maybe I was three maybe 4. Using a large bodkin and dishcloth cotton I would go in and out of the holes, those early days I would be fascinated by the patterns the threads made and that I was in control of.

Perhaps all these dishcloths I have been making have stirred up these memories, feeling the slightly rough cotton in my hands, I know they agitated the memories of school needlework lessons - having to stitch correctly, hold the needle correctly, stitches the correct length with the correct space between them.   Being smacked over the back of head by a ruler because I had not listened to the teacher, what a mess I had made. Had I not listened to a word she said, stupid child, unpick all the stitches.  I still have the felt egg cosy I made when I was 7 or 8, I look at the stitches, all neat and evenly spaced and wonder if that was when I decided I hated sewing.  Needlework classes held fear for me, I was ridiculed in front of others, high school gym skirt held up as an example of what not to do, my mother was a dressmaker,how could I not sew properly.  I was so glad when options year came and I could drop out of domestic science and needlework.
Doing everything by the book, not daring to step outside the box  - i had had it all and I was so glad to be away from it. 

I still can't make clothes though I have made the half-hearted attempt, the boys had a few pairs of board shorts and I had a skirt that wasn't too bad.  Mainly because I broke the rules and didn't quite follow the pattern and ever so slightly stepped over the line at the edge of the box. When I think back mum never followed patterns, she could look at a garment and copy it. I remember pointing to a paisely hot pants suit in a teen magazine and the next weekend I had two suits.  I also remember the emerald green tweed pants suit. The trousers weren't lined and the wool itched like mad and it was GREEN (because then I was a redhead and redheads always wore green - creating an aversion to GREEN thats lasted up until the other day)  But I looked 'cool' in front of the ministers son so I put up with it.

At that stage in my life I hated sewing, I hated doing anything by the book and I hated rules.  I can't remember at what point I actually picked up a needle again, I know at 16 i was knitting and crocheting. But I can't remember what encouraged me to start embroidery. At 17 I was into wool hook rugging. Oh dear its all coming back to me now. It was an ex fiance and his family. Do I really want to go there, was my love of needle and thread the only good thing to come out of that relationship. Yes, thats where it started, sitting around the fire on a winters day with all his family, sitting and stitching.  Thats a brief memory and I must remember that time in my life had its good memories as well as the bad, I've forgiven, forgotten and moved on since then. Just a little glitch in my life and the birth of a new love - cross stitch. 

Hugs, love and light

janjan