Moving on...

Goodness me, if I had known that my last post was going to reach several thousand people, many of whom hijacked my blog as a way of venting their spleen, and even reached one of the people I wrote about, I might have taken more time with my words and not just jabbered away and pressed 'publish.'

I'm pleased to see that the nation feels so passionately about interiors.
But REALLY. Was that post more important than the ones it has surpassed in terms of popularity in which I showed off the cupboard doors I had spent WEEKS on? No.
Was it greater than learning how to paint on glass? Certainly not.
More riveting than an experimental wood bleaching process that took a REALLY long time? I think not.
So let's draw a line under it now.


Moving on...
I found a bag of patchwork pieces in a charity shop and a small piece of completed patchwork. I snapped it up as I love that kind of thing. Only when I got it home did I realise quite how special this was...

The fabrics are all so very vintage!

What do you think? 1940's?

1950's?

They're all so fresh and bright from having been kept in a bag for sixty or seventy years.

It would be criminal not to keep this quilt going and use up those hexagons.

 I started a quilt of my own quite some time ago. I cut out lots of squares in delicious sludgey tones. Then I realised my squares were too small so they sit languishing in the loft. Perhaps in seventy years, someone will find them and get very excited over them.


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