Janet Gogerty's Blog: Sandscript - Posts Tagged "sewing"
Sandscript gets the Needle
Why don’t dolphins knit? They don’t have hands and they don't wear clothes are two obvious answers. I saw a U-tube clip of dolphins making ‘amazing’ rings of air bubbles in the sea. For highly intelligent creatures who could well be as clever as humans, making bubbles seemed a poor substitute for the range of creative arts and crafts we have at our finger tips. From Bower Birds to Beavers, we are not the only creatures to make things, but do other animals do it from necessity, instinct or for pure art?
Only an avid knitter would understand the pleasure of finishing a garment, not just to wear it or please someone with a gift, but for the fun of rummaging through one’s stash of yarn and pile of patterns to start on the next project. A dressmaker breathes in the heady scent of new bales of cloth, you don’t need to be a carpenter to relish the exquisite perfume of new sawdust.
Most people have an inbuilt urge to make something; for occasional relaxation, as a career or an all consuming hobby. To be kidnapped and kept in total isolation would be a nightmare for any person, the loneliness, discomfort and sensory deprivation; no book to read, or music to listen to, no pen to write with and no materials to make something. The only time I watch television without needles of some sort in my hands is when sub titles require concentration.
Knitting is a take anywhere handy obsession to have (except on commercial airline flights since terrorists turned the humble knitting needle into a weapon). I know an elderly lady who takes her knitting everywhere. Her husband loves classical music, she does not; she sits in the foyer of the concert hall happily knitting while he enjoys the concert. She chats to Saint John’s Ambulance and bar staff and has a very pleasant evening.
D.I.Y. is less portable, but the enthusiast will not sit at home for long, even on winter evenings, without leaping up to consult his books, the internet or to get out his tape measure to plan the next project.
I loved reading the diaries of Nella Last written during World War Two and afterwards for Mass Observation; you can read my review of ‘Nella Last in the Fifties’, here on Goodreads. I could understand her urge to write every day and also her love of sewing and crafts; from sophisticated dressmaking to using scraps for her little dollies, she always had something on the go to enjoy while she listened to the wireless.
Those who love to create must constantly think of new things to make. The first episode of the gentle BBC comedy ‘Jam and Jerusalem’ had me laughing straight away as we saw the interior of the parish church, every pew was covered in colourful crocheted blankets. Like the Victorians, those who sew and knit love to cover everything. At the Close Knit Café in Southbourne-on-Sea the outdoor seats have colourful throws, the parasol is knitted and even the lamppost sports a knitted tube.
http://www.closeknityarncafe.co.uk/
And what of the dolphins? We cannot imagine what it is like to live in the sea, or to be a dolphin, perhaps they have their own creative inner life in the ocean. But for humans, making things does seem to be important. Occupational Therapy has long been valued; foot and mouth paintings or assisted gardening for the disabled help fulfill a need. On a visit to a hobby superstore you may find crafts you did not know existed, be careful what you buy in case you become addicted.
Only an avid knitter would understand the pleasure of finishing a garment, not just to wear it or please someone with a gift, but for the fun of rummaging through one’s stash of yarn and pile of patterns to start on the next project. A dressmaker breathes in the heady scent of new bales of cloth, you don’t need to be a carpenter to relish the exquisite perfume of new sawdust.
Most people have an inbuilt urge to make something; for occasional relaxation, as a career or an all consuming hobby. To be kidnapped and kept in total isolation would be a nightmare for any person, the loneliness, discomfort and sensory deprivation; no book to read, or music to listen to, no pen to write with and no materials to make something. The only time I watch television without needles of some sort in my hands is when sub titles require concentration.
Knitting is a take anywhere handy obsession to have (except on commercial airline flights since terrorists turned the humble knitting needle into a weapon). I know an elderly lady who takes her knitting everywhere. Her husband loves classical music, she does not; she sits in the foyer of the concert hall happily knitting while he enjoys the concert. She chats to Saint John’s Ambulance and bar staff and has a very pleasant evening.
D.I.Y. is less portable, but the enthusiast will not sit at home for long, even on winter evenings, without leaping up to consult his books, the internet or to get out his tape measure to plan the next project.
I loved reading the diaries of Nella Last written during World War Two and afterwards for Mass Observation; you can read my review of ‘Nella Last in the Fifties’, here on Goodreads. I could understand her urge to write every day and also her love of sewing and crafts; from sophisticated dressmaking to using scraps for her little dollies, she always had something on the go to enjoy while she listened to the wireless.
Those who love to create must constantly think of new things to make. The first episode of the gentle BBC comedy ‘Jam and Jerusalem’ had me laughing straight away as we saw the interior of the parish church, every pew was covered in colourful crocheted blankets. Like the Victorians, those who sew and knit love to cover everything. At the Close Knit Café in Southbourne-on-Sea the outdoor seats have colourful throws, the parasol is knitted and even the lamppost sports a knitted tube.
http://www.closeknityarncafe.co.uk/
And what of the dolphins? We cannot imagine what it is like to live in the sea, or to be a dolphin, perhaps they have their own creative inner life in the ocean. But for humans, making things does seem to be important. Occupational Therapy has long been valued; foot and mouth paintings or assisted gardening for the disabled help fulfill a need. On a visit to a hobby superstore you may find crafts you did not know existed, be careful what you buy in case you become addicted.
Sandscript Stumped
When things go wrong....
Things didn’t work long before I came into contact with computers. The stapler runs out of staples with only one more bundle of papers to go. Even if I manage to open it up and put the new strip of staples in something will jam as soon as I press the heel of my hand down.
We had a family heirloom hand sewing machine 'Jones, as supplied to Her Majesty Queen Alexandra'. Whether the wife of Edward VII used her sewing machine I have no idea; but ours was old and loyal, blessed with a few simple operations. I turned the handle and the needle sped up and down stitching clothes for my doll; but if the spool ran out or the threads jammed I was instantly infuriated with the machine and my father was the only one who could sort it. When we started sewing lessons at senior school we were confronted with treadles and electric machines. I never mastered the treadle action, let alone the sewing part of the procedure. I would pretend to be busy until an electric machine was available. I have sewn many things since; if my electric machine is running smoothly I can make anything (as long as it doesn’t involve button holes or fancy stitches), but if the fabric puckers or binds itself to the machine I am completely stumped.
If asked to be the first to arrive and open up a meeting place I know for sure the key will not fit, or the door will remain shut tight. Sometimes I conquer the lock, pull, push, jiggle a half turn, but more likely entry will only be gained when other people start to turn up and try for themselves, the door swinging open readily.
Perhaps I am not the only one for whom thing go wrong. A long queue at the one open till in WH Smith; the other assistants are busy trying to direct reluctant shoppers to the scan your own machines or helping them when that robotic woman says 'Item not recognised, unbagged item…. ' Computers in various forms are unavoidable.
For a long time I had no reason to be involved with computers, but writing and social media sucked me in to this love hate relationship. Unlike staplers and sewing machines computers are sentient beings; they know when you need to send an urgent e-mail or print an important document.
The digital world of scanners and printers was preceded in the work place by photocopiers and before that machines such as The Gestetner. I dreaded being left alone with this mystery of rolling drums, scent of chemicals and ink which printed too faintly or leaked in the wrong places. But it was still mechanical and not totally beyond comprehension.
Computers purposely lull you into a false sense of security, the World at your finger tips, documents easily altered, unlike the bad old days of typewriters. Then things start to go wrong. You log into Facebook, but instead of pictures of your friends and cute kittens there are only blank squares waiting to be filled in while the tiny blue circle goes round and round…. You sign into your e-mail account and see you have six messages, but it won’t let you into your In Box. The lay person has no idea if the problem lies with their mouse, their computer, a real rodent gnawing at the Virgin cable, or if the World Wide Web has been switched off by North Korea. It’s all magic to us. My usual answer is irrational rage if I’m on my own or to yell for Cyberspouse. He does not believe that the computer bears personal malevolence towards me or anyone else and remains calm in a crisis, sorts the problem, only to be recalled minutes later when the paper jams in the printer…
Things didn’t work long before I came into contact with computers. The stapler runs out of staples with only one more bundle of papers to go. Even if I manage to open it up and put the new strip of staples in something will jam as soon as I press the heel of my hand down.
We had a family heirloom hand sewing machine 'Jones, as supplied to Her Majesty Queen Alexandra'. Whether the wife of Edward VII used her sewing machine I have no idea; but ours was old and loyal, blessed with a few simple operations. I turned the handle and the needle sped up and down stitching clothes for my doll; but if the spool ran out or the threads jammed I was instantly infuriated with the machine and my father was the only one who could sort it. When we started sewing lessons at senior school we were confronted with treadles and electric machines. I never mastered the treadle action, let alone the sewing part of the procedure. I would pretend to be busy until an electric machine was available. I have sewn many things since; if my electric machine is running smoothly I can make anything (as long as it doesn’t involve button holes or fancy stitches), but if the fabric puckers or binds itself to the machine I am completely stumped.
If asked to be the first to arrive and open up a meeting place I know for sure the key will not fit, or the door will remain shut tight. Sometimes I conquer the lock, pull, push, jiggle a half turn, but more likely entry will only be gained when other people start to turn up and try for themselves, the door swinging open readily.
Perhaps I am not the only one for whom thing go wrong. A long queue at the one open till in WH Smith; the other assistants are busy trying to direct reluctant shoppers to the scan your own machines or helping them when that robotic woman says 'Item not recognised, unbagged item…. ' Computers in various forms are unavoidable.
For a long time I had no reason to be involved with computers, but writing and social media sucked me in to this love hate relationship. Unlike staplers and sewing machines computers are sentient beings; they know when you need to send an urgent e-mail or print an important document.
The digital world of scanners and printers was preceded in the work place by photocopiers and before that machines such as The Gestetner. I dreaded being left alone with this mystery of rolling drums, scent of chemicals and ink which printed too faintly or leaked in the wrong places. But it was still mechanical and not totally beyond comprehension.
Computers purposely lull you into a false sense of security, the World at your finger tips, documents easily altered, unlike the bad old days of typewriters. Then things start to go wrong. You log into Facebook, but instead of pictures of your friends and cute kittens there are only blank squares waiting to be filled in while the tiny blue circle goes round and round…. You sign into your e-mail account and see you have six messages, but it won’t let you into your In Box. The lay person has no idea if the problem lies with their mouse, their computer, a real rodent gnawing at the Virgin cable, or if the World Wide Web has been switched off by North Korea. It’s all magic to us. My usual answer is irrational rage if I’m on my own or to yell for Cyberspouse. He does not believe that the computer bears personal malevolence towards me or anyone else and remains calm in a crisis, sorts the problem, only to be recalled minutes later when the paper jams in the printer…
Sandscript
I like to write first drafts with pen and paper; at home, in busy cafes, in the garden, at our beach hut... even sitting in a sea front car park waiting for the rain to stop I get my note book out. We
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