Making: the end of bed tidy

Last year, relatives kindly passed on a lovely quality single bed. It’s one of those ones which has a spare bedstead and mattress that fit underneath. The kind of thing that could allow for sleepovers in comfort.

Meanwhile, the bed has been joined by a desk – a very nice fit really. The desk is really a low table – for tea parties, for drawing, or whatever else seems the best use at the time.

There is now a gap between the top of the table and the top of the wood that forms the end of the bed. It’s only really about fifteen centimetres deep, but I don’t want it to get attention for the wrong reasons.

I am hoping that the table will get plenty of use – but I also want to avoid leaving wood in front of the draw-er that might a) get drawn on too b) stickered to death c) other possible notions I have not yet dreamt up.

The solution: making an end of bed tidy.

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The notion of the tidy is that it sits on the table side of the end of the bed, covering up the space, yet making the table space more inviting (fingers crossed).

So what I’m aiming for is a long thin strip of fabric – an extended letterbox shape, if you will. Part of it will form the back of the tidy, and a lower bit will be sewn on the front, with stitches across it vertically to form pockets in the strip of fabric.

I haven’t quite worked out how the fabric attaches to the end of the bed – but I have found the perfect remnant of fabric for it.

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When I was off hunting for the exciting rotary cutter, I had a little browse among the offcuts of fabric in the shop. Lots were curtain material, and not what I was after, but I did find a long strip of fabric with a series of small animal prints on it.

(Yes, we are talking cute fabric here. It’s a new departure for me.)

I eyeballed it for size, and thought it would work. At just over two pounds’ cost, it was worth a try.

Once I got it home, it turned out that it was an ideal shape for the end of the bed, hopefully making the sewing side very easy.

I also got an offcut of plain creamy fabric at the same time. I think it might be curtain lining, not sure, but it’s plain, and cheap, and it will work out just fine to go with the print.

So far, I’ve roughly cut off enough of the plain fabric to fit the print offcut. Fortunately enough, there’s a good chunk of the plain fabric left over too (so probably add on about 50p to the cost of fabric bought, which is still a bargain).

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I have worked out that I want the fabric to match: one strip will form the back of the tidy, the other will form the bit that will then get divided into pockets.

The cream fabric will be sewed to back it. I hope it will add a bit of weight, and I think it might need some of that pillow inner to make the whole thing a bit sturdier, and able to hold a fistful of crayons per pocket, say.

I’m sure more confident makers might add contrast pockets, or embroidery, or all kinds of other things.

I don’t know if I’m feeling brave enough for that yet. I’m hoping that cute fabric will swing it for now, and maybe I can add some of the rest later, if I get better (or if it is requested).

Although this is being written about after other items, it will probably get finished first, because I have all the pieces for it. Plus I can take it on holiday to complete without Junior Reader suspecting (unlike the teeny tiny quilt).

I appreciate that, given the insistence that the fabric is cute, I may be required to provide photographic evidence.

I’ll see if I can run to that too.

Summer moments 2014

One thing you hope for, when the summer holidays roll round, is that there’ll be lots of lovely moments. Moments even, maybe – ones where you can stand still for a moment, and just soak them in.

I decided at the start of the summer that I’d try and have a round-up of some of these.
I used to write a summer holiday diary as a child (or at least there are a couple of years’ worth). I don’t get that far now, but a few happy memories, that I can find time for.

So here are some of this summer’s moments so far. Like pressed flowers, preserved for that little bit longer.

Depending on how many moments stand out, there may be a few more of these posts.
I rather hope so.

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A week of tennis lessons. Kids hard at it on the courts, mums and grannies and general hangers on at the side. One enterprising granny has a fold-up chair with her.

We agree that there will be lots of trips to the playground after tennis this week – because it’s a good one. Because it’s right next to the tennis courts. Because, well, it’s the summer, and playground time in dry weather is something to be seized with both hands.

There is a walk in the Botanic Gardens one day, a deux, with Junior Reader. We browse lots of interesting paths, hide under trees, seek out the tops of the waterfalls we can hear at a distance.

It’s sunny, and we have been out all morning and half the afternoon. By the time we bus home, we’re both tired, but happy.

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There is the beginning of reading of the first Harry Potter book, out loud, to Junior Reader. Dan and I have read them all – indeed, we read them aloud to each other, right through to book 7. (Oh OK. I did read ahead a bit in book 7 – couldn’t not.)

Dan does the reading honours, but I beg rights to read one chapter, where Harry has to buy his things for school – including his wand.

It is back to the old magic – the reading magic of sharing a book you like, for the first time. Junior Reader knows a bit of the story, true, from a school friend who is a few books ahead. But we get to share it together, right from the start. It feels good.

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There is a day where we are required to be on a Secret Mission. We bought a few little things to say well done to Junior Reader at the end of the school year. Junior Reader, not to be outdone, wants to buy something back for us.

We miss buses and we walk to different bus stops and have a few other distractions, but we finally secure some chocolate digestives. Because that’s what grownups like, as far as Junior Reader is concerned. (We concur.)

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There is a trip to Perthshire to see a former school friend. It is one of those happy playdates where you abandon your child to their friend, their plans, and sit with the mum, tea and biscuits to hand, catching up.

They send us back with soft fruit – because it is the right place in Scotland for soft fruit. Especially raspberries.

The fruit disappears fast, as soft fruit always does, but I make sure to pass by the kitchen counter regularly, and inhale the scent of the raspberries a few times. And to eat them, very slowly.

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There are a few more afternoon films than might normally happen, and a certain amount of parental napping during these. Because everyone needs some down time, even if they’re On Duty.

Right?

All change, ladies and gentlemen

I remember telling Junior Reader about old trams one time – the kind where the tram couldn’t turn round when it reached the end of the line.

So the seats would be manually flipped up to face the opposite direction – and the driver would change ends. And, of course, the passengers would need to disembark. All change, ladies and gentlemen, all change.

I don’t know quite who I am in this little snapshot of life at the moment – maybe everyone. The driver, the ticket collector flipping up the seats, the passengers.

We are well. We are just going through a lot of change right now. Good change, but big change. It is hard to write about because of various factors, not least the emotions being about three stops behind where the tram is at the moment.

Last time we had an all change moment, I wasn’t here at the helm of the blog. Sometimes there is just so much to do in the all change flurry that there are very few spare thoughts to channel towards a place of words.

It took time to write again – and time to decide what to write about. And I feel somewhat the same at the moment. It’s not just really coming to the end of the route and back again (which blows the tram image somewhat, but never mind).

There is a new route now. I don’t know what I’m going to see along the way.

I suspect I will still be as much in love with children’s books as I am now (maybe more so).
I hope I will still gain as much pleasure from smelling flowers and seeing our local pigeon formation team, and all those other moments that are out there.

I’m sure there will be more of the same. But there may be new things to see. And much of the time I’ll be getting to know the new route, working out where to stop, trying to keep the journey smooth.

I hope I will also be able to lift my head more at times. Be a passenger, an observer. Admire the view as I too pass through it.

Forgive the over-extended metaphor. Because much as I believe that words can fix most things, and explain others, sometimes it is harder to fit them to the task.

Sometimes, we are not even in the tram. We are out at the front, quarrying away at the route, smelting the rails to keep us moving. We are out there, chipping away, hoping that something will emerge out of the hard labour.

I don’t know where the words will be for the next stretch of the journey. I may be able to drive towards them, and I may have to use dynamite to find them if they are buried for a while.

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So here’s what it comes to. This month, there’s a few posts lined up, ready to go. I may be able to add a few more, we’ll see.

July is going to be post-lite – which is fine. Because hopefully you’re off out there too, living your summer, enjoying your own moments. You’ll have plenty to be going on with.

I don’t want to have another big blog hiatus if I can manage it. But we’ll see how it all goes. And I’m sure by the autumn, there’ll be that natural pull towards writing again, and I’ll be able to say something about the view at that point.

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I sit and write, just before the house stirs into action. I sit and write, because there is a moment now, and because there are some words within it.

And because I still need those words – I always will – to carry me along my route.

Making: the scooping up blanket

So last time round I mentioned that I had all these leftover handles from the eco bags I’d been cutting up. And they seem just right for the idea of a scooping up blanket.

Dan and Junior Reader are Lego afficianados. To be honest, it’s building anything – it could be K’nex, or Duplo, or anything else that you stick together.

I admire the things they create – they have a much more instinctive understanding of making than I do. Plus they can both think in 3D, which is a challenge to me.

But the downside of these building sessions is that there are lots of tiny bits, spread out. And when it comes to tidying up, it takes a long time, there’s quite a lot of harumphing over the tidying up, and there’s invariably a few bits that are found later.

So how would it be if you used a blanket for the spreading things out stage – then pulled the corners to form a bag? Then (carefully) tip the Lego into its drawers, and you’re done.

The plus side to this plan, as I see it, is the chance to have a nice comfy surface under you as you sit and build.

The question mark is: do you make it as a quilt? And the even bigger question: should the quilt look like Lego itself?

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So here’s where I’m at so far on the thinking about this.

I like the idea, and I think it would be very useful. And I have those sturdy handles all ready to use. (More than I need for one blanket. Maybe I’ll make a second scooping-up blanket for something else.)

Downside of a Lego-style quilt: potentially difficult to see the actual pieces on if it looks like Lego too (ie Lego-type colours, similar shaped blocks).

BUT if I did a Lego style quilt, and put a plain backing on it, then you could use the plain side to build on, so you could see the pieces.

And then you’d have the visual joke of the Lego side for other occasions where you might like to have something to snuggle (thinks: Sunday film afternoons?).

Big plus of this: we know the Lego colours already. We know they work together. There’s no pattern matching to do. And the pieces can be Lego shaped, which could be fun to plan.

I think if I do this, I’ll probably aim for using Duplo blocks for sizing, rather than actual Lego sizing, which would be too fiddly to work with.

(After discussion with Dan, that size is probably too small too. Think bigger.)

It might also be an excuse to cut out little bits of coloured paper, and move them around to find a pattern I like. Plus I do have that rotary cutter now, so I should be able to cut suitable sized blocks of fabric.

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It’s at this point that I see the addiction of making. It’s not just about solving problems; it’s about thinking about the best way of doing so.

I know that if I do this, it’ll be a lot of work. And I do my sewing by hand, so that could mean it takes a while.

But at the same time, I am really enjoying the sewing. If the teeny tiny quilt gets finished OK, then I’ll have some more skills for doing the next stage.

Plus I’ve got a LOT of quilt-stuffing material from those old pillows. I might as well make use of it.

If I can, I’m going to use the fabric left over from the eco bags, where I think it fits sufficiently with Lego colours. I’ve got time to plan it; maybe to hunt for scraps of material that would work.

But in the meantime, I’ve found the perfect scrap of material for another project – and one I’m going to complete first, I think.

It’s an end of bed tidy thing, sewn, with pockets. More on that next time.

Friday phrase: and now we can go to your frankfurter parties

With summer right here right now (even if it may be chucking it down while you’re reading this), thought turn to being outdoors, barbecues and so on.

Or maybe not. Sometimes, the dreams of easy get-togethers aren’t so easy – if you don’t think you’ll be invited in the first place.

We’ve all had moments of finding our own crowd – as well as moments on standing on the sidelines, wanting to join in, but being turned away.

So back to Dr Seuss, and the Sneeches that I referred to last time. Because the Sneeches come in two sorts: ones with stars on their bellies, and ones without. (At least, to begin with.)

Those stars. They show who belongs, and who doesn’t. But they can be changed. At a price.

Having grown up on relatively small amounts of Dr Seuss, ie The Cat in the Hat Comes Back (and nothing else), it was quite something to start discovering more of his writings.

And just how pertinent they still are, whether covering environment, persecution of difference, political opposition – or even just how cool it would be to invent your own extra month called Octember.

At the start of the weekend, I hope you’ll be included. I hope you’ll include others, if that doesn’t sound too moralising. And I hope you don’t get ripped off (as the Sneeches do), trying to get the signs that will help you fit in.

You may find you have more in common than you think.

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Dr Seuss, The Sneeches

Then they yelled at the ones who had stars at the start,
"We're exactly like you! You can't tell us apart.
We're all just the same, now, you snooty old smarties!
And now we can go to your frankfurter parties."

You can read the rest of the story in full online, and there's also a cartoon version of the Sneeches.