Slow stitching a story

If you've followed the Scribbles for a while, you'll know I like being creative in ways that don't just include words. Most recently, I've quilted, although I don't tend to use old fabrics in the way that true patchwork originated.

Today, I got my chance to combine story-telling with stitchery.

My church is hosting an exhibition in November, called the Art of Remembrance; a local artist, Jacqui Gallon, has a particular interest in using art with folk who have been bereaved, and is facilitating the workshops which support the project. The idea is that anyone can remember their loved ones by creating simple artworks - artworks that will be displayed during the exhibition at church.

(I'd already enabled one piece of art at NIBS - we used the 'I remember' exercise again, thinking of people we'd loved and lost, then wrote out words and phrases with coloured pastels and chalks and felt pens onto large sheets of paper. These large sheets will be quartered and used in one of the artworks.)

Today, we did slow stitching. It's a coming together of simple stitching - if you can thread a needle and do a running stitch, you can slow stitch - and of memories.

There was a wonderful array of materials to choose from - some dyed with natural plant material foraged from our church woodland - and after a brief introduction from Jacqui, we chose our bits and pieces and set to on a 'warm-up' which developed into the real thing. It was a privilege to be privy to some of the memories that had inspired the choices of fabrics and embellishments, and I can't wait to see them all displayed.

Moira's workbasket and some sample pieces

I thought I'd share the story behind the two pieces I finished and the one I have to complete.

Green.

My grandparents both had gardens. Grandma's was long and thin and sloped up behind the house. It was a functional garden, growing gooseberries and currants and veg - the only bit of lawn was right at the far end, near the shed, and I remember the bean canes behind the shed...

Granny and Grandpa's garden was much bigger, but there was still a lot of it turned over to produce. I remember Grandpa making pea pod wine after he'd shelled his peas...and my uncles breaking into the 'wine cellar' to drink it at the wake after Grandpa's funeral. There was a much bigger lawn, and paths around the back of the borders that we used to run around. Granny was registered blind, so sound and scent was important to her in the garden, so I was delighted to find a piece of fabric with a little bird sitting in a tree.

I knew this piece had to be green. As I sewed, the straight lines reminded me of the lines of produce, and I left the ends trailing because in spite of how carefully you plan your garden, there are always some plants that can't be constrained to the lines... 

Clothes.

I also have distinct memories of some of the clothing worn by my grandparents. Grandpa was a working man, so I remember his boiler suit. I also remember him in cricket whites at a weekend during the summer. Granny loved colour, even though she struggled to see it sometimes, and I can still see her in a kaftan and large floppy sunhat on the beach in North Wales when we holidayed together. With Grandma, I think of aprons and crimpolene dresses - she believed when you got to a certain age, you should dress a certain way. She only ever used one dress shop in Leicester, because it sold those kind of dresses.

Seeing the shirt in the material stash made me think of clothing, and although it's nothing like anything my grandparents would have worn, it gave me my theme. Using a complete piece of the garment meant it was recognisable as an item of clothing rather than simply a scrap of fabric, and it provided a strong link to my memories.

Black, red and blue.

A good friend of ours died suddenly, years ago, in a motorbike accident. He was - at different times - a boat builder, a policeman, and a fireman. We only tended to see him at Christmas, at a black tie dinner a group of us have held annually for almost thirty years.

This one has got to be stitched yet, but I chose fabric for the red and blue of his professions, and I want to stitch waves instead of straight lines, for the sea. The black fabric, black sateen ribbon and a black button represent the dinner jacket he'd wear at our Christmas dinners. I'd have loved to include a piece of black leather too - mainly for the bike leathers he stripped out of (having biked all the way from Orkney) at our wedding, revealing his posh suit underneath... But also because ultimately the motorbike he loved was the reason for us losing him.

It was a real privilege to see the thought and memories that poured into these simple artworks - many of them probably no bigger than six inches square - and I am sure they will prove to be a powerful stimulus for others when they are viewed.

And if you doubted that we had fun - remember that nice neat table at the start of the session? This was it halfway through the session...!

The empty nest

Squidgeling T's about to head off to uni, so Mr Squidge and I are faced with the prospect of being on our own for the first time in 20 years.

It's a weird thing to be thinking about. On the one hand, of course we want the Squidgelings to go off and be independent and follow their chosen paths of study and career choices. It's awesome that they feel confident enough and have the ability to do that.

On the other hand, the Squidgelings have been a big part of our lives for a long time - time during which we've all changed and grown, including Mr Squidge and me.

We need to find out who we are as a couple, now. A couple with grown up kids, who can go on holiday on their own (though I can't stop feeling guilty about that one - I might have to work myself up to a real 'holiday' with weekends away first!), who don't have to worry too much about working around other people's events in the diary, and who can eat a much wider range of foods!

It'll take time. I have a sense of us needing to re-connect with each other, to re-discover what we like to do together and then actually get on and do it. We can put ourselves first without feeling selfish or guilty...

Well, up to a point.

The cat's still living at home.

Book Launch - Tilda of Merjan

The date is set...

On Thursday 17th October, I'll be in The Old Curiosity Bookshop and Tea Room, Hathern, for a Meet-the-Author-cum-Book-Launch!

The date we've picked is in half term, but as some schools in Leicestershire are not having their half term until the following week, I may have to think about a second event the following week... Depends on how things go!

The lovely Tina has agreed to host me for the entire day, and we're hoping that folk will book into one of two sessions (10am-12pm and 2pm-4pm) where I'll read from Tilda of Merjan, talk a little bit about Tilda's journey into print, answer questions, AND I'll bring along some of my favourite writing prompts for folk to have a go at if they want to. Between 12pm and 2pm, we're hoping others might be able to pop in for a sandwich and pick up a signed copy...

(You might also want to take a look at some of the other books on sale in the shop - there are lots to choose from!)

Due to space, we're asking people to book into the sessions beforehand, but everyone who pops in to see me on the day will have a chance to win a copy of Tilda that I will embellish - a bit like I did with Granny Rainbow for a previous Red Nose Day auction...

Stick the date in your diary, spread the word, and I shall look forward to seeing a few people on the day, and launching Tilda - the first book of my first series of novels - into the wild.

PS. You can buy the ebook direct from the publisher.

Tilda of Merjan

It's official - we have a cover for the first of Tilda's stories! Publication due in September, so keep your eyes peeled for pre-order buttons...

Charnwood 2019

I've been to camp again recently, with 5,500 campers from the worldwide family of Scouts and Guides. It's the ninth camp of this sort I've attended (only the eighth I've camped at.)

(You can find out about my long association with Charnwood International Scout and Guide camps here, and what I did in the 2016 camp, here. And if you want to see a more general history, check out the Charnwood website too.)

The site was HUGE - the biggest yet, as you can see from this aerial photo. Look closely - you might see the wind turbine. Not Bib Bob, I hasten to add - probably a distant relative though!

Main sub camps to the right and bottom, staff subcamp to the left,
main arena with the biggest marquees! 

Those two marquees? Breathing Space.

I was part of the Breathing Space team, who were tasked with providing a quiet and faith space for campers, run along similar lines to the Channel Your Thoughts tent of 2016. The success of CYT meant that this time round, our presence was advertised and promoted well before the camp began. We also ended up with more space; in 2016, we were in one large marquee. This time, we were spread across two marquees, both individually about three to four times the size of the 2016 one. And again, we were in the central area, available to anyone.

Our Breathing Space logo...in 3D. Provided a great photo opportunity...

...and our distinctive team neckers, complete with
Breathing Space Challenge Badge

We had three zones across our marquees: Sshhh, Haven, and Reflection. Sshhh provided quiet, mostly self-run activities such as colouring, Lego, puzzles, games, a few crafts which changed daily, a small library of books and Beano comics, and a stitched banner. It also housed our friendship postbox and the Worry Monster!

Haven was an area of the second marquee which had some similar quiet activities for campers who either needed a smaller space and fewer people to feel comfortable, or who needed someone to talk to if things got too much for them. And Reflection was the rest of the same marquee, which housed our team 'office', a large area for specific faith services, thought for the day sessions, and on site trainings, as well as a private prayer space. It worked really well to separate the areas, not least because we didn't have to reorganise the tent at any point.

Well, not until Tuesday, but I'll get to that in a moment.

We opened on the Saturday afternoon as campers were arriving on site, and were pleased to see leaders bringing the young people who they thought might need us to the tent straightaway to orient them and introduce team members so there was a familiar face when they next popped in. Our 'triage' approach worked well too - we were able to identify campers who might need a little more TLC than others and direct them to Haven rather than Sshhh.

And then it started raining. Now, rain on camp isn't usually a problem, but it came down in buckets. The campsite quickly became extremely muddy or was under water in several places, and some sub camps were left fighting to keep liquid mud from running through their sites.

Standing water...

...which turned into slurry as thousands of folk
all walked the same way to their activities

It rained on Sunday, too, and camp conditions deteriorated so much, I sent Mr Squidge to a well known camping store to buy welly boots, as it turned out that my walking boots were not in the least bit waterproof.

Not very clear, but my very muddy and wet boots,
just before I got into my sleeping bag!

(He was ready and waiting when the shop opened on Monday morning - they only had large sizes left as there'd been something of a run on wellies because some international groups had arrived without suitable footwear. Fortunately the lovely shop assistant rummaged round the back and found a pair of size 4 pink wellies so Mr Squidge snapped them up and brought them over to me. Dry feet! A luxury!)

Monday, the sun shone. It began to dry out some areas of the site, but sub camps were still pretty bad. Friends who were camping with their units were cooking while standing ankle deep in water. I saw photos of others scraping the worst of the liquid mud up with baking trays to try to keep it from entering food prep areas.

I hadn't seen camp conditions like this since Charnwood 80, which started muddy and then dried out.

That wasn't to be the case this time. It began to rain again. And it kept on raining. We didn't realise at the time that Leicestershire was having a month's worth of rain in two days. Hay had already been put down on Sunday in the worst places to try to mop up water. Now it was bark chippings in the car parks to prevent vehicles getting stuck, and trenches being dug to try to re-route running water. Some groups went home with wet gear that night to dry off and come back the next day...

And then on Tuesday night, after relentless rain all day, we got the order to strip out our marquees to provide communal dry sleeping space for campers who were flooded out of their tents. And still the rain kept coming down...

We woke on Wednesday morning to the news that camp was going to have to close early. The conditions were simply too bad. To my knowledge, it's the first time an international camp in this country has had to close in this way due to weather conditions. It was very, very sad - but the best decision under the circumstances.

The Breathing Space team were asked to stay on. We were working just in one marquee now - the other had people sleeping in it - and we couldn't provide all that we had planned to. But we kept the space open for those who needed us and what we were still able to offer under challenging circumstances. And we stayed until Friday lunchtime, one of the few tents continuing to offer activities for campers - particularly some of the international visitors - who couldn't leave on the Thursday.

In some respects, it was the hardest camp I have ever been on. Even without the weather, we were busy from the moment we opened our marquees at 8.30am to the moment we shut them up, around 10pm (later if someone still needed us.) We had a lunch hour so we could eat, and we protected our evening meal times as far as we could, but other than that we never stopped. And we waded - literally waded - through mud, in the dark, back to our sleeping tents (which stayed standing and mainly dry, despite the awful weather).

In other ways, it was the best camp I've ever been on. Everyone pulled together. The longest shift we heard about (Facilities and H&W were literally working non-stop) was 26 hours, as folk battled to keep the site working, and the spirit of Guiding and Scouting - the 'do your best, have courage in all difficulties' - was very much in evidence. The young folk still had a brilliant time. Breathing Space was enjoyed and appreciated by those who needed us. And I had the privilege of working in an amazing team who supported each other just as much as they supported anxious or tired campers.

I met some incredibly inspiring young people, and was blessed to witness several moments of deep spirituality within the services and inter faith sessions I helped to provide.

I was in the camp newspaper twice, (!) and met many international campers I probably wouldn't have met if I'd been a guider-in-charge looking after a unit.

The Taiwanese scouts were a lovely bunch

Very proud of our interfaith prayer space  - it was used several times.

Yes, I was tired, and muddy, and sad when I got home, but on balance, it was a brilliant camp. Here are a few more photos - with thanks to fellow team members for letting me share their pics, because I took so few of my own.

What camp looked like in a rare sunny moment, with all the flags flying

Our psychedelic colouring wall after it got dripped on!

Big Knit hats. You might spot my pencil, a couple of
funky chickens, and my frog's eyes...

My 'haul' of badges; now need to sew them onto my camp blanket!

And the next one? Due in 2023. We're already thinking about it...

The Big Knit

I've been knitting...

Not for myself, but for the Big Knit , a charity appeal whereby knitters make small hats to fit the tops of innocent smoothie bottles. Every hat knitted raises 25p for Age UK, .

I bought 20 20g balls of cotton from my local wool shop (the wonderful Knotty Knits and Kreative Krafts)  and looked up a load of patterns on the net.

Ummm...they're a bit addictive.

It takes about half an hour to make and sew up a basic hat. A bit longer if you're doing more of a novelty one, especially if you have to make legs or sew on eyes or make tails. Most of the patterns have come from the internet, having simply searched 'big knit patterns'.

I've knitted loads...

It's all in a good cause.

Birthdays, Guitars, and Cake.

Can't quite believe it, but Squidgeling T is eighteen this weekend. Where did all those years go?

One minute there's a little cheeky chappie toddling along, the next, there's a strapping six footer - a strapping six footer who is the bassist of a local rock band.

One of his guitars (yes, he has multiple - apparently you can never have too many guitars) was made by Mr Squidge. Squidgeling T had been eyeing up Dingwall 5-string basses, but the prices were well out of his league at somewhere around £3K-£5K. Having made a guitar for his GCSE though, T asked his dad to help him make a Dingwall-inspired one. Mr Squidge ended up doing most of the practical stuff, but T had definite ideas about what it would look like and was instrumental (hah! see what I did there?) in the design.

The guitar was finished earlier this year, and it looks amazing. You can't see it on these pics, but the head of the guitar is coloured to match the body in purple and blue.

Now on his ACTUAL birthday, T will be performing, gigging with Rawkus Redz in Leicester - a charity gig in aid of the Teenage Cancer Trust - so how else could I have decorated his 18th birthday cake, other than with a guitar.

And not just any old guitar, but THE guitar...

Happy Birthday, Squidgeling T xx