Welcome

It’s that time of year again, when the apples and garden produce start rolling in and we get caught midway between stress - will I cope with the mounds of apples my OH is piling on the table almost daily - and satisfaction… because there is nothing nicer than preserving excess food for the winter months or to give as gifts to friends and relations, or, if you have as much produce as I do, the odd delivery driver and unexpected caller who you want to thank for their service.

The idea of repairing or altering clothes to prolong their life is not a new idea. Indeed my own grandmother’s main form of evening entertainment seemed to largely centre around darning socks, turning shirt collars, letting down hems, unpicking old jumpers, re-using wool and a whole lot more.

When I first met my husband Steve, he impressed me with presents. Not that they always hit the spot, and they were often random, like the cocktail dress he fondly imagined I’d look glamorous in, bought at a jumble sale, or the set of shot glasses that as a virtual teetotaler, I’ve still never quite found a use for other than measuring fruit cordial in…

I am not a natural seamstress. There I’ve said it. Then I came across the term, Deadstock Fabric. Commercially it is the avoidance of throwing out end of line material, domestically, it is the art of making something new out of something old… ideal for someone like me.

I was eating a baked onion the other day, a simple and delicious meal, quickly prepared and yes, cheap, especially if you have a small table top, or slow cooker to bake them in. Looking down at my plate I suddenly thought about the journey it had taken to get there.

For a few years now I’ve secretly hankered after a fake tree. For me all that fuss and mess, the lop sided tilt that no amount of propping up ever sorts, has lost its charm along with the never ending pine needles that in our house often linger well into the spring. Before now I’ve never quite plucked up the courage to broach the subject though, rightly, as it turns out suspecting the outrage that might ensue.

I’ve a long history in cutting corners, from hemming up curtains with masking tape, to dusting with whatever comes to hand. Why? Because life is short and time is at a premium and I have a million and two things I want to do. If I insist on doing them all properly, I shan’t begin many of them, as they suddenly become tasks of such magnitude as to be untenable to the mere mortal that I am. Things don’t always work of course, but as long as you prepare yourself for possible failure, that’s okay. But on the other hand, you might be surprised as I was recently by this.

The Great Plastic Disaster!

How many plastic bottles are there in your house? Go on, open your cupboard doors and count… it’s not a judgement, more a why? When we know it’s not good for us or the planet – when we know it’s in our food as well as in our oceans and seas and that it endangers wildlife - and more recently that Microplastics have also been detected in live human lungs.

In a local charity shop recently I overheard, not for the first time I might add, someone complaining about the cost of an item for sale. At first thought it sounded mean, after all, who would begrudge money going to a good cause?

It’s a good question though isn’t it. The meanies, the miserable, the manically motivated bargain hunter, the in need, the less well off?