Pins and needles

There’s been a bit of sewing going on around here.  Nothing terribly creative or exciting, but a couple of projects I’d planned and thinking I needed to clear the decks a bit , I decided to get on with them.

The first is the quilt/wallhanging/headboard I’d started a couple of month ago for Edward’s bedroom. 

I’d given myself a good talking to and made myself finish it before going on to begin something else.  It didn’t take long – I didn’t quilt it very much and the longest process was getting it straightened up.  I used my usual method of binding it, with a scrappy strip here and there to add some colour.

It’s still laid out on the rug in his room awaiting the next step: fixing it to the wall.  That will probably get done about ten minutes before we next put the bed up!

For my next trick, I unpacked the “row by row” project I’d bought at the Woolen Needle in Iowa.  It’s a metre or so wide and consists of a log cabin square and an applique scene, quilted and bound.  We liked the soft colours and the small package of fabric was a good souvenir of that lovely day.

I fitted the patchwork foot to my sewing machine and began the log cabin square, feeling happy that the fabrics worked so well together and the end result looked great.

Next, I set to and began the picture panel, which is when I hit a snag.  Uh oh. The pale fabric (the sky) was cut to 5” as it should be, but the ground fabric was cut to the same size – when it ought to have been 6”.  I hummed and haahhed about this, for surely, an inch wouldn’t make that much difference, would it?  Well, of course, it does look better if the horizon isn’t dead centre across the panel but it also occurred to me that the end result would also be an inch too narrow.  The applique scene wouldn’t fit with the log cabin square and that square could not be cut down in size at all.

I emailed The Woolen Needle and had an almost instant reply.  I emailed them my address and they said they’ll send me a replacement piece.

But, you know, a couple of days ago, I couldn’t wait any longer and thought I’d take a look in my stash and see if I had a piece of suitable fabric.  I don’t have many pieces that wide as I tend to buy quilting cotton in fat quarters, so I didn’t hold out much hope.  But fortunately, in my Christmas box, I found a piece of bottle green cotton with a tiny print.  I prefer the original choice of a neat check, but hey ho.  I cut out the applique shapes from the wool felt and bondawebbed them to the background.

Stitching around each of them is slow going but it’s satisfying and it’s looking good so far.  Next time I’m out, I need to look for a suitable backing fabric and some for binding it too, or else it might find its way into that “needs finishing” heap in the corner of the studio

Yesterday, feeling I was starting a cold, I decided to take it easy and play with my sewing machine.  I made one of these using up a few scraps of fabric from my stash.  I’d read that one of my craft-judge colleagues had come across one in a show recently and as I made it, I pondered on the points I’d look for.  It’s a clever design and the process is well explained but there are a couple of processes I didn’t manage quite as well as I’d have liked.  Perhaps I’ll need to make a second, perfect on, but for now, this one is good enough.

Going underground

It doesn’t look like the kind of place for a great night out, does it?

Our friends Paulene and Nigel had got hold of tickets for a tour of the Deep Level Air Raid Shelter at Clapham Common and wondered if my Hero and I would like to join them.

You bet!

Of course, we knew nothing about the place, didn’t really have any idea of what we’d see or do, but knowing that such opportunities don’t come up very often, I applied my usual “say yes first, wonder why later” principle and on this occasion that was exactly the right answer.

Tickets are not easily come by and Paulene had booked these way back in the early Summer, so we’d had the date in our diaries for a few months, well before we were invited to be Godparents to our newest, smallest friend the morning after.  More about that later…

We met at ground level outside the tube station at Clapham South and were tagged and a register taken.  This was a serious business…safety notices had been emailed out to us, regarding suitable footwear, personal safety (no matches, lighters etc) and the required level of fitness! There are 180 steps down to the deep-level shelter – and of course, the same 180 steps back up again.  Hmm.  Naturally, if there was a fire or other emergency down there, those 180 steps might have to be taken at a canter…

Well, let’s not think about such things, eh?

But as soon as we were taken through an innocuous looking door there was hardly a chance to think sweet thoughts!  Sorry about the poor photo, but we did set off at quite a pace.  You can at least see that the staircase was a gentle spiral, the steps secure and there was a handrail.  We were pleased of that later on!

When we got to the bottom, 35m or so below street level, a small welcome party was waiting for us, ready to guide us through a mile or so of tunnels and give us an idea of what it would have been like to have been one of the 8000 people who could have sheltered from the bombing down here.

We began with a little background to the construction – when, why and where.  There were about twenty of us in the group and half a dozen guides, so plenty of chance to ask questions and take photos.

Although I’d wondered if it would feel claustrophobic down there, it was well lit and actually quite comfortable – though the rumble of the Northern Line trains passing over our heads was a little disconcerting.

We were led through a series of tunnels, divided into areas named after Naval Commanders and shown some of the features of the shelter along the way.

Where fittings had been removed, large wall panels gave a better idea – of the men’s loos, for example!  (I didn’t really want to imagine not only how 8000 people could cope with just four lavatory areas, never mind how the effluent was dealt with bearing in mind the sewer is above the shelter)  I think the atmosphere down here could have been less than fragrant…

Some of the tunnels were still fitted with the bunk beds as they would have been in 1944.  People arriving at the shelter would have been given a location and a bunk number for the night, but would need to leave the following morning, taking all their belongings with them.

Two parallel tunnels stretched out in a broad curve in both directions and we walked the length of them before going down a few more steps to another level where the same layout was to be found.

The idea of being down here for any length of time wasn’t very attractive, even if the canteen served “off ration” goodies such as cakes and jam tarts to keep up morale.

After the war, the shelters were used to accommodate troops and later, to house some of the newly arrived migrants from Jamaica, from the Empire Windrush.  Later still, European students visiting the Festival of Britain found cheap hostel-style lodging down here, but shortly afterwards it was regarded as unsafe to use for overnight accommodation.

For a while, the shelter was used for archival storage and we were told that one of the other shelters is now used for hydroponic horticulture, growing microherbs for the London restaurant trade.  Access and other essential services make it tricky to find a good use for these clean, dry, temperate spaces I suppose but it’s surprising that some bright spark hasn’t come up with an imaginative idea.

Feeling thankful that we didn’t have to rely on the facilities down here, we found ourselves back at the staircase and began the climb back to the surface.  No, I didn’t count the steps but I can tell you, the pint of Camden Hells enjoyed in the pub along the road hardly touched the sides.

Read more about the shelter here and the tours here.  

Thanks Paulene and Nigel for a great night out! 

Working the grey matter

A beautiful day in Cheltenham, for our first visit to the Literature Festival.  If any of Mary’s group are reading, this is the scene in Imperial Gardens right now – a small village of marquees filled with activity.

The event we were heading for was taking place in Montpellier Gardens, a little further up the Promenade and also filled with a variety of venues for a rich and assorted programme of speakers, discussions and thought provoking debate.

We were there to hear Daniel Kehlmann and Saša Stanišić, two young German storytellers about whom we knew ( a ) little.  I had first heard Daniel talking about the book which brought him into the spotlight a few years ago – Measuring the World.  His gentle humour, characterisations and originality endeared him to me immediately and as soon as I spotted his name in the programme, I knew I wanted to learn more about his work.  I’ll admit to never having heard about Saša, but if he was writing in a similar vein, then he would add to the pleasure.  I bought two tickets and decided that my hero needed to come too

We prepared by listening again to the World Book Club programme which had sparked my interest and I heaved a sigh of relief that my hero instantly tuned into the same threads which drew me in.  He remembered me looking for Daniel’s books in Waterstones some months ago and decided that he too would like to read Measuring the World.  Perhaps he could get it for his Kindle?  A quick search on Amazon did the trick – bringing up a small message that he’d actually bought the book a couple of years ago

It proved a little more difficult to find much about Saša and though the Goethe Institute gave us some background, it wasn’t easy to find out more.  Still, we knew he’d be talking about his new book “Before the Feast” and I managed to find a short excerpt which gave us a bit of an idea where we were heading.

Fortified by a good lunch with friends and a bottle of claret (!) I feared the warm, dark atmosphere in “the Salon” would get the better of me but I needn’t have worried.  The wunderkinder held our attention throughout with a relaxed conversation about their work.  At times, I felt I was learning a little too much about Rosie Goldsmith, who chaired the discussion and (IMHO) spent much too long telling us why she felt qualified to be there.  Well, ok, but my hero hit the nail on the head when he remarked that she seemed to consider herself one of a trio rather than the facilitator of a duet.

But hey, we both left having enjoyed a satisfying discussion, we were equally charmed by both modern Germans and are looking forward to reading their books.  What a great way to spend the afternoon!