A happy little Forest

Aren’t trees wonderful? Yes, I may sound like an earthy/crunchy/knit-your-own-yogurt, lentil-crunching, sandal-wearing tree-hugger type who reeks of patchouli and dances like a windmill at the merest hint of a Stevie Nicks song, but trees are wonderful. And, besides, I’m exactly that kind of person. Except for the lentils – if your lentils are crunchy you haven’t cooked them enough. And the sandals. I just don’t do sandals.

Yes, this is exactly what I look like when I dance. Except that I'm not quite as tall. Obviously.

Anyway. Trees. I love em. So I’ve made some. My own little Forest of happy, colourful trees with brooch backs so you can wear your own little bit of Faery Forest (hmm, does that sound slightly provocative or is it fairy floss I’m thinking of?) out and about with you. Of course, if you like to get your fairy floss out too then that is entirely your own business 😉

My happy little Forest

 

No. 1 – Clasp purse

Ta da! Yes, I’ve finally made a start on my challenge! Woo hoo! Admittedly, it’s a very small item but it’s one I’ve coveted for a bit (ever since we went shopping in Worcester and I saw one in Monsoon – there’s also an oilcloth bag in a pretty kitty pattern I’ve just GOT to have).

somewhere to keep my pixie pennies and leprechaun gold

Clasp purses hold a very special fascination for me. As a child, I was often the recipient of stuff grown up aunts and cousins didn’t want any more; my bedroom cupboard positively bulged with hand-me-down clutch purses, evening bags in mock croc with chains for handles (look, it was the 70s, all right??) and saggy looking satchel-types in soft not-really-leather-but-trying-hard-to-look-like-it. And clasp purses. Lots and lots of clasp purses. My favourite had a gently curved gilt frame and a coarse coat-like fabric in checked green. It looked, now I think of it, like someone had made it from a corner of a cast-off coat. I loved it. It accompanied me on many seaside holidays, carrying the coins that paid for the pony-adventure-novels that kept me quiet in many a rainy caravan. In fact, I think I probably loved it to death – eventually the fabric frayed and pulled away from the frame, exposing it’s unglamorous cotton lining and, finally, the clasp itself broke and simply wouldn’t remain closed. Sad times.

So a new clasp purse is a wondrous thing. Especially one that hasn’t been mass-produced by an underpaid factory worker a very very long way away. And it’s doubly good because it has a mushroom on it (those who know me are well versed with my mushroom and toadstool obsession – I’ve put them on bags, tee’s, jackets and skirts). And it’s purple. The lining is a lovely purple cotton. It’s probably not really the right choice – a lighter colour might have made it easier to find those pesky little 5 pences that will undoubtedly hide right in the corners but, you know, tough cheddar. I like purple. And an abundance of horrid little 5p’s (does anyone like them? Or are we, as a nation, unilaterally opposed to those annoying little bits of silver that just don’t seem big enough to grasp when you’re in a rush?) means I can invest in one of those sweet little VW camper money-boxes I’ve wanted for so long.

I actually can't wait to go shopping now and use this!

The only downside is that it doesn’t have anywhere to keep bank cards, receipts, etc. But that’s ok. Because I have lots and fabric and a sewing machine and another challenge to meet next week 😉

The Challenge

’52 ways to leave your high street retailer’….

Ten points if you know the song I’m referencing. Ten points to me if that tune sticks in your head for the rest of the day.

Ok, it’s a simple enough challenge: 52 weeks in a year, 52 high street items that I must source elsewhere.

Rules? erm…

• items can be made from new or recycled materials
• items can be sourced from marketplaces such as Etsy or Folksy
• one item per week
• gifts for birthdays, Crimbo and other festivals can be included

Ok. I’ll be starting… soon(ish).

Everybody’s doing it…

Blogging, that is.

So this is mine. And this is the introductory blog post… I’m tempted to do it in a Bridget Jones stylee – ‘this is Niccy, she likes sewing and baking cakes but doesn’t hoover as much as she should’ – but talking about yourself in the third person is probably a sign of encroaching madness (even Facebook doesn’t expect you to do it anymore).

So, hello! I’m Niccy, I like sewing and baking cakes and I don’t hoover as much as I should. Or dust. When it comes to the old Domestic Goddess routine I definately need ‘a woman who does’.

I’d rather sew. Sewing is many things. Work, friend, therapist (probably). My patchwork clothes are for sale on Etsy and I’m working on lots of other projects too.

It’s probably hard to believe, but up until a few years ago I was actually terrified of my sewing machine. But every now and then I’d be grabbed by the idiotic, irresistable compulsion to sew. Which meant dragging it from the darkest depths of the musty, spidery cupboard where it lived (in mortal terror of whatever beasties might leap into my hair, uck!), struggling to remember how to thread it up and then mutiliating whatever beautiful fabric I’d bought with the misguided idea of sewing myself something pretty. It usually ended badly. Often bloodily. Always with the monstrous sewing machine exiled to the back of the cupboard under the stairs with a ‘never again’ promise.

And then… well, I don’t know what happened. I’d like to be able to relate some inspirational and uplifting story but there isn’t one. Maybe aliens came in the night and re-wired my brain so that I could understand my sewing machine. Or, more likely, I just got older and more patient (and realised that reading the instructions might help).

So that’s it. Well, some of it. The beginning of my blog, anyway. There’s more to come – expect recipes, everyday ramblings and possibly the odd rant or two.