I loved needlework lessons at school. It was something I excelled in and the highlight of my week. All through secondary school I was joint top of the class with another girl who, like me, had a mother and two grandmothers, all knitters and stitchers, teaching their skills to our generation.My Nanna Hetty used to give me a scrap of fabric and a handful of buttons to sew on. I would set them out in a pattern. It kept me busy for hours and I was very accomplished by the age of seven or eight. I also learnt to respect the sharpness of a sewing needle. No harm done.
At school, besides the curriculum stuff of making a cookery apron, a netball skirt and a pin cushion, our teacher introduced us to smocking and classic patchwork. The smocking was part of the baby dresses we made from calico and gingham. The patchwork was a bit more involved. First we had to make hexagon shaped templates from squared paper. The six sides had to be exactly the same, so lots of careful measuring. Next, pieces of fabric were neatly folded over the hexagon side, taking care to keep the correct shape before pinning or tacking.Each piece had to fit perfectly with another. I was very proud of mine, which became a beautiful patchwork cushion cover, later included in my exam collection. I was equally proud of a patchwork gypsy skirt that I made for myself in the mid-seventies.
When I was told the gender of our first grandchild, I set about making a patchwork cot quilt. These days, plastic and metal templates are readily available to buy in all shapes and sizes, much easier to draw round and cut out. I chose the classic hexagon set and an assortment of suitable fabrics. Preparing the pieces was easy but hand stitching them together was more challenging for my poor eyesight. My first grandson is now three. He has a two year old cousin, a one year old brother and a sister on the way. My patchwork quilt remains unfinished, (my photo), but I will manage it, eventually, with the help of a hands-free magnifying glass.
I can relate so much to my chosen poem. It’s given me an idea for another needlework project. Repairing the Heirloom
By Deborah Browning
The pattern was "spider web" -
Scraps of fabric forming hexagons,
Their paisleys, dots and plaids
Repeated until the shapes stopped,
Some incomplete, at the edge,
And over the whole a web, quilted,
Seven stitches to the inch drawing each corner
To the center.
In the patchwork I recognized pieces
Of my grandmother's gingham apron,
The apron itself cut from the skirt
Of a faded dress. Her family's clothes,
The work of her hands, for years
Were conserved. Winters passed to the scrape
Of scissors trimming those rectangles.
I trimmed a scrap of fabric from my old sundress,
Appliqued it over the threadbare original,
Bright red against worn calico.
I laid on the design by drawing needle
Across fabric, quilting the impression
That would disappear like the needle's imprints
In my fingers. My stitches met hers
And I knotted the thread of this net
That would catch another generation of small hands,
Clenching in sleep and letting go.
Thanks for reading, Pam x
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