Well! I mean, well!

Last night we were watching an Antiques Roadshow we’d recorded some time ago, and it featured not one but two very interesting pieces of embroidery – a pleasant surprise to any avid needleworker as our hobby doesn’t feature that frequently. One was a stunning piece of 3D whitework (the ears of corn have to be seen to be believed, and I would love to see it in real life and, if at all possible, to touch it and study the texture), the other a centuries-old WIP (Work In Progress), although time and circumstances had turned it into a UFO (UnFinished Object). It was still stretched on its frame, half completed, and with what looked like water damage. Did the unfortunate needlewoman spill her dainty cup of China tea all down one side of her work, and give it up as a lost cause? It was intriguing.

So why the indignation at the start of this post? Because when the expert had explained to the owner who might have done this type of embroidery and when and how fine it was and so on, the owner asked The Question That Must Not Be Asked: “So what was it for?” The lady who worked this particular piece of embroidery is long beyond being irritated by such insensitive enquiries, but I uttered a sharp “tut” on her behalf, much to my husband’s amusement.

My stitcher’s delight came (besides from seeing these two beautiful projects) from working with Bradley’s Balloons. What I love about it is that its variegation is very sudden – no long stretches of a single colour, but quick changes, so that practically no two consecutive Kloster blocks are the same. Perhaps I am to easily pleased, but I really find it very cheering . Be honest, what stitcher could fail to smile at this: