When I was young I was a great one for wrapping presents up beautifully with carefully chosen paper and matching ribbon. The advent of 4 children 6 years and under put an end to such refinement as Christmas Eve would be spent furiously wrapping the children’s presents and stocking fillers until the larger of the small hours – and by that time I’d be thrusting several little nothings into one wrapped present in the interest of getting at least a modicum of sleep. (I always reasoned that if Father Christmas was bringing the presents, I could scarcely have them sitting gift wrapped on the top of the wardrobe as recognisable Christmas paper would immediately give the game away – unless you spun the story F.C and I frequented the same shops.)
I now give far fewer family presents, at least some of which I have made – or rather am still making, as unfortunately my estimation of production time is more tinged by optimism than sound judgement. Somewhat pathetically this means that at least one person per year is handed a half finished, creased and crumpled piece of fabric to which a needle is still attached and which will be immediately taken back for stitching to continue. This year the unfortunate recipient was my son’s girlfriend. I only hope she doesn’t regard this piece of bad planning as some sort of perverse initiative test.
I always think I make masses of presents each year but when it comes down to it, I realise that this year I made 3 monograms (this one and the recently blogged K and E, both of which were for someone else to give away) and 4 hand hemstitched men’s handkerchiefs (one of which was left behind in pyjama trousers that stay here ready for the next visit). I’m sure I must have made something else, but apart from a half knitted baby jacket for my husband’s newest grand daughter, nothing else is coming to mind.
My son’s girlfriend is very fond of roses – on bedlinen and crockery to name things that immediately come to mind and while she’s more of a pink rose or a red rose sort of girl, I was going with a white on white theme, so opted for a few sprays of an obviously clambering variety say Rambling Rector which is off white and when up and running has a profusion of flower heads and a wonderful scent. A friend gave me one a couple of years ago and as we won’t live here for ever, I sent it down to London to perfume daughter No 1’s garden. (Note to self: the white I used was DMC Blanc which always ends up rather creamy on white linen.)
I think I might frame this with a slightly squarer frame than my usual and I’ll add a photo of it when that’s done and the mounting has smoothed the wrinkles out.
26 January 2015
6 Comments
I’ve noticed that white threads vary almost as much as blacks – it’s infuriating, isn’t it!
It’s really maddening when you forget to note down the number of the white, pick up the wrong colour, sew away with it all evening and wake the next day to find it’s not only wrong but utterly wrong in the daylight.
What linen do you use for both the framed monograms and the cushions? As I live in the embroidery free zone of Atlantic Canada, I will have to order via the internet.
I’m afraid I’m not very particular, Anne. The fabric I used to use for the cushions is no longer made with just linen and cotton (they started adding a small percentage of nylon – ugh!). Linen for the monograms I usually buy from The Cloth Shop in Berwick Street in London but that would be no good for you. I still have enough for 3 monograms, after that I’ll panic. I often use old linens found in junk or charity shops – I’m not a purist and I don’t really like an utterly smooth and perfect surface. I also don’t like to pay too much and some of the linens sold purposely for embroidery are rather expensive. I’m now in need of sourcing new fabrics myself so I’ll try and do a post on it when I have time to do some research. Sorry not to be of more immediate help.
Really lovely. Thank you for showing the fine detail of threads, linen and stitchery, all combining into a piece of carefully and lovingly planned workmanship that will surely give lasting pleasure to many. I, too, as an impulsive optimist, plan many handmade gifts throughout the year, to give something of myself as an heirloom perhaps – but until there are 48 hours in a day, I must be content with being a very slow realist.
And what about your church biscuits!
Normally I’m a long term optimist/short term pessimist but over time taken to making things I’m what can only be called an unrealist optimist – having had an idea, I think it can be realised in a matter of hours (and never include in the calculation time for tweaking the design, let alone time for mounting and framing (the monograms) or for making button holes/sewing buttons on, piping, etc (for cushions). Change for the better seems unlikely.
Thank you for letting me know that you like this monogram.
Church biscuits will make a return next week.