Thanks to Kim for reminding me to ‘close’ this story. The only person to come close to guessing what the wooden keyhole and lock that I have featured recently was Teresa. She guessed a sewing machine but in fact, it’s a sewing box, complete with built-in pincushion and trays for buttons, reels of cotton, ribbon, elastic and all of the other bits and bobs that a keen sewer will accrue over a lifetime of sewing.

I love this box and its contents and one of these days, when I’m not charging around like a headless chicken doing ‘stuff’ – whether work or the grand plan, I’ll get around to sewing for pleasure again.

In my life of recent years, the only sewing I have done is functional stuff like curtains, cushions and such like. Well, unless you count the red satin heart, thrown together in a hospital waiting room while I was waiting to see a specialist a couple of years ago….I suppose you could describe that as sewing for pleasure.

Years ago, I used to make all my own clothes, I’d buy fabric, spread it out on the floor, lie on it and ask my Mum to put pins by the nape of my neck and my knees (or whatever) and then I’d cut out my garment, usually pattern-less, just cutting as per the vision in my head of whatever it was I was making.

All sorts of stuff came out of my head and ended up in fabric form on my body. I was quite a seamstress. It was all borne out of hating shop-bought clothes…..does this sound at all familiar? I can still never find any clothes I like in shops and I suppose that my disdain for pre-cooked food could be regarded as a similar obsession. I made masses of stuff, including a lot of very complicated things, from jackets through to dresses.

Southall was the perfect place for someone who sews – cheap and gloriously colourful fabric by the yard available from dozens of stores, each one a bit different and each with a little ‘treasure’ just waiting to be found among the rolls and rolls of amazing stuff. I have been known to stop by there in recent times just to avail myself of this facility since shops selling dressmaking fabric have all-but disappeared from the high streets of Britain outside of the Asian communities.

I have two sewing machines – one is the machine I love – an ancient Singer that has a wonderfully smooth action. It was a hand-cranked machine that had a motor put on to it to make it a new-fangled electric one. It’s perfect, except for one small flaw – its fabric-feeding plate is rusty and the rust marks the fabric as it grip onto it and pulls it through the machine. It’s such a pity because I really love using the machine.

The other is much more modern though still old-fashioned by today’s standards. It’s a Riccar, dating from about 1975-80 I suppose and I bought it second-hand from a lady who used to work with in my last company, Jenny. She made christening gowns as a hobby and did quite nicely out of it so decided to buy a brand new machine and sold me her old one. In comparison to the Singer, it’s much more versatile but the standard of the build is not so good.

Anyway, both gather dust for much of the time now – the Riccar gets hauled out if I need to make curtains. One day…….


Last year, I was celebrating friendship again and toasting Cheryl and all my other 'real' friends.