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The project in my head that concerns chairs is on the back burner. I don’t have the space at the moment to explore it. It will get done, but not here at home, and not now. It can wait.

Until then though I am a little rudderless. I’m not sure what to make, if to make, what to write and if I should write. Writing takes up less space, true. But curiously, I have found that if I am not making, the writing doesn’t come so easily… there’s a vacuum in which it struggles to survive.

I have been worrying about it, to be honest. But, as time has gone on I have decided, and managed, to let it go. I’ll have the space, the work will be made, the brain will kick into gear and away we will go. It is all part of the cycle of my creativity. At some point, it will settle again.

Meanwhile, back in the world that other people call Real, I take a break from the domestic and trot off to Bridgnorth with my friend *brief tourist announcement: It’s lovely, go!*

We drink tea, eat cake, walk around the hill and look at the views across the river, its a cold crisp day… little bit rainy… but still a good day out. (The company helps, thank you H!) Hats are bought, loud laughs are had, and we wander about vintage and junk shops.

Now, If I’m honest, other people’s work in galleries doesn’t really inspire me. It is usually resolved according to someone else thoughts… so while I find it interesting, it doesn’t often make me want to rush home and work.

Junk shops however, especially those with a lean towards the domestic and the textile, hold untold stories, and really get me going. I wandered about, fingering things, picking up, putting down, putting together, not really with any great thought as to why. Its like my fingers know what they are looking for. Handling is important. That is why most of the time (apart from bacon-sandwich-eating-chocolate-smeared-mechanics) I am happy – I encourage – the handling of my work. Most of my pleasure has come from the handling of the items and materials. To deny the audience is denying them a huge chance of connection in the way that I connect.

I reach the front of the shop and chat to the owner almost unaware of the collected items in my hand, and almost unconsciously pay for them, and push them into my bag.



1 fragment of christening gown, cotton, including panels of drawn thread work, broderie Anglaise and lace, pin tucks and hand embroidery. Machine construction, age unknown – guess early 20th C.

2 fragments white fabric trim with bobbly bits, about 12 inches long

1 fragment white ric-rac also 12 inches long, stained slightly.

1 skein unbleached linen thread

6 single keys

1 bunch of 3 keys.

1 doll’s jumper, hand knitted, cream, with ribbon tie


This morning’s work has been to use the linen to stitch a key onto the jumper. God knows why! But I like it…

As I stitch I think of secrets and lies and overheard and eavesdropped conversations… things that children hear but don’t understand… perhaps…