This week I made a dress from a tube of silk jersey, cutting away two slight curves from either side and scooping out a neckline.
I sat in my armchair (I have a “new” one, gloriously snug and comfortable and $20 at the local second hand store) stitched a few seams, hemmed the neckline and the sleeves and it was done. I was in two minds about hemming the lower edge as well as I don’t think it will fray but then I needed something to with my hands while watching a movie on my iPad (it had been recommended to me and if I watch something without a task to keep my hands occupied I guarantee I will be asleep in seconds). I do want to get a photograph of it (on moi) before I stuff it into a dyepot but it’s been so jolly cold here that I haven’t yet been able to rip my kit off and shiver my way in front of a camera.
It has, in fact, been cold enough for ice to form in both moons and shards.
Luckily I have lap warmers. The white floof in the next image is Tilly (you may have seen her on this platform when she was much younger, assisting with paddock textile installations), the stripy arrangement is Whisky (pronounced Eeeeeeeeeeeeeesky) who was rescued (along with her sister Moonshine) from under a woolshed (a place where sheep are shorn) by my eldest daughter…and of course still live with me.
This is what Whisky looks like from the front.
The look in her eyes is oddly reminiscent of my diminutive Latvian grandmother, who, when I was about to perform something that was monumentally idiotic would murmur words along the lines of “I am old and silly and you are young and clever but in your position I would ……”
Martha, on the other hand, simply observes my capers with the disdain they deserve. Twenty-year-old cats are given a good deal of grace.
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Because it has been cold, I have been baking. The warm blast from a fan-forced oven as you open the door to check the progress of whatever is being immolated is insensibly comforting.
In today’s muddlings I have been experimenting with a version of “pain au raisin” using currants instead of sultanas and a rather flavoursome crême pat for the middle made with with caramelised sugar and a little fleur de sel brought home from Bretagne last year.
I even rolled out the butter properly, between two sheets of paper. It took on some lovely wrinkles.
Admittedly the currants look suspiciously like bunny poo but I think it is important that all grandmothers maintain a slightly witchy aspect. I have no photo of the goods after they were baked. They turned out rather nicely and were devoured before I could ask them to pose.
Anyway back to that dress.
Here’s a video explaining how it was done.