If you’ve been wanting to learn the basics of darning in a tidy and structured way, come along to my new class: Strictly Come Darning!

You’ll try your hand at stockinet darning, Swiss darning, and linen darning. This will be mostly a hand-work class, but we’ll take a look at how you’d go about darning by machine too.

Swiss darning

The first scheduled Strictly Come Darning! class will be at Jumble Jelly, 10 Silver Street, Bradford-on-Avon, Wiltshire, BA15 1JY on Friday 3rd May, 10am to 1pm. To book your place, phone the shop on 01225 866033.

NB If I handed you a flyer yesterday (attached to a reel of vintage tacking cotton) at Bath Artisan Market, the date printed there was incorrect: please note that this class is on the 3rd May and not the 4th, as stated. Thank you! Do feast your eyes on this delicious write-up of yesterday’s Make-Do-and-Mend-themed Bath Artisan Market c/o Captured by Lucy.

This month’s Bath Artisan Market at Green Park Station on Sunday 14th April has a Make Do & Mend theme, and the Big Mend will be there all day with a pop-up mending workshop.

If you’re in Bath and happen to have something needing a new button attached, a seam fixed, or maybe a hole darned, come on down! We’ll show you how. And it’s FREE! More about the Big Mend mending socials over here.

This Sunday’s market also brings you the Big Bath Clothes Swap, screenprinting for the kids (c/o Happy Inkers), and plenty of local gourmet food. Now we just need the Great British spring weather to co-operate! If you aren’t coming by public transport, by bike or on foot, there’s free parking for an hour and a half in the Sainsbury’s and Homebase car parks.

Bath Artisan Market Make Do and Mend Day

If you’re on Twitter, follow Bath Artisan Market for latest news and updates. This market happens every second Sunday of the month. Hope to see you this Sunday!

PS I’d welcome some willing volunteers to help with the stall. If you can spare half an hour on Sunday, do get in touch. No previous darning experience necessary!

I’ll be taking a pop-up mending workshop to the Green Living Fair in Bath tomorrow, Sunday 24th March, 10am to 4pm. If you’re within striking distance and fancy trying your hand at Swiss darning or adding some really beautiful patches to your favourite jacket or cardi, drop by the Big Mend stall any time between 10am and 4pm. You’re very welcome to bring items that need mending to get free advice on how best to repair them. 

Green Living Fair: 24th March in Green Park Station, Bath

You’ll also find 40 other green community organisations, local businesses and installers running activities, selling their produce and products, and sharing their expertise.

You can make your own pedal powered fruit smoothie, pet the pygmy goat (12pm-2pm), bring your bike and get it checked out for free at the Dr Bike clinic, have a go at eco arts and crafts, and much more.

There will be a marquee of topical talks running throughout the day covering home, energy and environmental themes.

You can book a 30 minute appointment to talk to an architect in the Ask the Architect Zone to discuss plans, schemes and dreams for large or small projects and The Royal Institute of British Architects’ 21^st Century Living Exhibition, featuring images of fantastic local architectural achievements, will also be on show.

It’s all under cover so no need to worry about the weather!

The Green Living Fair is part of the Bath Green Homes project which features over 20 events throughout March & April including talks, activities and workshops which aim to help people make their homes warmer, greener and cheaper to run. There will be an Open Homes Weekend on 13^th & 14^th April showcasing inspiring examples of energy efficient homes across Bath.

To find out more you can:

• Visit the website www.bathgreenhomes.co.uk/greenliving
• Join the mailing list,
• Pick up or download a leaflet,
• Follow on Twitter @BathGreenHomes  #GreenLivingFair
• Get in contact: 01225 477528 / admin@bathgreenhomes.co.uk

Hope to see you there!

I’ve just finished playing with props again, this time for Topping Books, a very special independent bookshop here in Bath. The lovely people at Topping’s ask me to decorate their windows periodically. Last time was in January for the launch of food and travel quarterly, Cereal magazine.

The things hanging down from the ceiling were little strands of paper notebooks, joined together on my sewing machine. It’s hard to see, but there is also an old stepladder: a family heirloom which my husband’s grandmother climbed to access those hard-to-reach shelves in her Dorset off-licence, circa 1930. And I added a lovely old robin’s-egg blue typewriter (this particular model is a pioneering 1949 slimline design, still favoured by the likes of Will Self and Leonard Cohen) and several pine cones. Very orderly and restrained, isn’t it? I didn’t want to overwhelm the pared-down Scandi styling of the magazine. Volume 2 of Cereal is just out, by the way.

This time, the bookshop needed something punchier for Bath in Fashion week, an annual event which is fast gaining a reputation amongst people who know about such things. This year it runs from 13th-21st April. Topping’s will be hosting two events to coincide: one with Sir Roy Strong on Tuesday 16th April, another with Kaffe Fassett on Thursday 18th April. My brief was to create an eye-catching display to flag up these events; the bookshop is on the A4 route through Bath and probably gets more attention from people in their cars than on foot. So, you have to work hard to grab attention.

First, I set to with my paintbrush and some old sewing boxes like this rather sad one; it’s a fabulous mid-twentieth century shape, but the varnish had been wrecked by water damage before I got it, so it was ripe for a makeover.

Here it is with a lick of paint.

I also painted a tiny chest of drawers bought new about ten years ago, the perfect thing for buttons, bits and bobs. And I played with some buckram (the white stiff stuff you make tie-backs with, or don’t make tie-backs with, in my case).  I have a little thing about Mary Norton’s The Borrowers and thought that a giant classic Dean tape-measure would be A Good Idea. Never mind that I only painted up to the 12″ mark; most of the measure is coiled, so nobody will ever know. Instead of ‘Dean’ I painted ‘Bath’, and where ‘Made in England’ would have been, I put ‘Bath in Fashion’. Pretty subtle. Yeah, I guess nobody will clock that from their cars.

I borrowed an old French mannequin, which I felt compelled to Christen ‘Claudette’, and draped the giant tape-measure around her shoulders.

Several hours, some giant prop buttons, and many metres of orange fabric later, here’s the window.

Judging by my display, the event might well be called ‘Bath in Haberdashery’, but not to worry. Close enough for rock ‘n’ roll. Does it say ‘fashion’, however tangentially, to you? You can be scrupulously honest. My job is to catch the eye, and I hope that the bright colours and sewing props do that. Anyway, if you’re passing the Paragon at the end of George Street in Bath, or sitting in traffic at the lights, look out for it and let me know what you think. Better still, come to one of the bookshop events! Events are invariably delightful, warm and welcoming occasions at Topping’s, particularly with such colourful guests.

Here’s the entire shop front.

PS This was actually attempt #2. I had a go at the windows on Sunday and made an incredible vintage-fabric mish-mash of them both. If you walked past late Sunday or early Monday and wondered what on earth was going on in the mind of the window-dresser, I was just having an off day. And trying to be über-thrifty by using only what I had. Big mistake. But this is how we learn.

After a relative dearth of scraps, here’s a whole slew to make up for it. I hope you can handle  all the excitement!

Rail fence quilt top

This exuberant patchwork quilt-top was made by my Pennsylvanian grandmother. It’s a simple machine-pieced single quilt top which was not completed.

It isn’t fancy: a thrown-together-fast strip pattern called ‘rail fence’. Each little strip measures about three inches by one.

To make rail fence, three strips are joined to make one square block. The blocks are then arranged (one vertical, one horizontal, etc) and joined into strips, the strips then joined to build up the entire quilt top. Simple, but lively. It seems to me that the  placing and piecing haven’t been sweated over too much: this is a hap quilt, the pieces falling pretty much where they will. The lines of stitching are a little rough-and-ready too. But Nana had plenty of children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and didn’t have time to spare on perfectionism.

Rail fence patchwork

The workmanship and provenance may not be grand, but these scraps are like little jewels to me. I know that some of them came from humble feedsacks. Others were cut from plain fabrics bought by the yard. I’m sure Nana would have kept precious scraps a long while. She grew up on a farm, one of fourteen children, and resources were scarce. I think she’d have been conservative, therefore, so maybe some of these fabrics date to way back whenever. She worked in a shirt factory for a while (in the 1910s, I think) so I wonder if any of these could be shirt offcuts.

My mother used to tell me that some of these prints featured in her childhood clothes from the late 1920s and 1930s. Other scraps are a little later. I don’t know exactly when Nana made it; it could possibly date any time up to the late ’70s. I’m not sure precisely when she stopped sewing; she had bad arthritis in her hands and I think she’d stopped for a while before she died in the 1980s.

Rail fence close-up

A few people have suggested I complete this quilt. But I’m reluctant to. I feel that the WIP tells its own special story and has its own value; I’m reluctant to meddle with this time-capsule. But I’d love to ask you: if it were your grandmother’s handiwork, what would you do? Finish? Or leave it as is? And why? Have you finished off your own grandmother’s (or your mother’s) quilt? Did you feel you owed that to her? All valid points! Please do take just a moment to share your thoughts. I love to hear them. Thank you!

If you’re pushed for a Mother’s Day/Mothering Sunday* gift and live in Bath, I can help.

The Craft-Tea Party happens in Green Park Station this Saturday 9th March, 2-5pm. It’s organised by Oxfam Bath and timed to celebrate International Women’s Day (8th March).

Craft-Tea Party poster

I’m running a series of mini-workshops at 2pm, 2.45pm, 3.30pm and 4.15pm (half an hour each) to make a gorgeous flower brooch from upcycled felt. The £5 fee will go entirely to Oxfam as I’m donating my time and materials.

Here’s the felt we’ll be using. It’s lovely thick stuff, culled from endless sweaters, cardigans and scarves gleaned in numberless charity shops then boiled in my washing machine and steam pressed. Yes, a complete labour of love!

Part of the Scrapiana upcycled felt library

And here are samples of some of the loopy brooches we’ll be making. They can be loosely sprawling, dense and tight, single colour, variegated, buttoned or not buttoned, but each holds a charm.

Loopy flower brooches

Best of all, these loopy flowers are surprisingly simple and fast to make. They just need a little careful cutting (I have various sizes of scissors for big and little hands) and require a little hand-sewing, though I minimise this for those who find needle-and-thread stressful. I made these (and some other felt flowers) with the Bath WI last week and we had a really fun, highly productive evening. Here’s a write-up from fellow craft blogger and WI member Sue. I’m so glad to have pepped up her week and brought a smile to her face – that means such a lot.

Anyway, £5 isn’t much of an outlay to hit two birds with one stone, donating to the brilliant Oxfam cause and making something for your lovely ma. Better still, bring your mum along and keep her busy close by with some tea and cake (served on vintage crockery, of course) while you make her a surprise. You’ll have to tell her not to peek, but the sumptuous cakes on offer should provide sufficient distraction.  So, here’s how you book a space, to avoid disappointment. Hope to see you there!

PS If you don’t have a mum (and so many of us don’t), do please come make a flower for yourself, or for a lovely female relative or friend whose nurturing spirit you appreciate.

*which, in the UK, falls on 10th March 2013 this year

Sylvia Darning by Harold Gilman, 1917

I keep my eyes peeled for interesting images of darning. This painting by British impressionist Harold Gilman (1876-1919)  is currently my favourite. ‘Sylvia Darning’ is dated 1917. I love it’s palpable coolth (is that a word? It should be). I don’t know much at all about Gilman, other than what Wikipedia tells me, but would love to find out more. Doesn’t that vase really sing out from the middle of the table? If you’d like to see the original canvas and soak up the colours, I’m afraid you’ll have to schlep to the Yale Center for British Art. It’s a bit more of an effort for me than Rode in Somerset where Gilman was born; that’s just 21 miles away.

I’m also a partial to old darning implements (you would never have guessed!). Here is one I acquired recently: the “Marvel Darner”. Excuse the violent orange background but I got a little carried away.

Marvel Darner

The Marvel darner measures just a couple of inches across and is effectively a miniature velvet board with densely packed metal wires set into a small wooden frame. The idea is that it grips the holey sock, giving the mender a stable base on which to work. No stretching, gaping sock hole. How marvelous! At least, that’s the idea. I don’t know how well it works yet as I haven’t tested it. The instructions, on a small paper label glued to the top, read:

The “MARVEL DARNER” CORNELL’S PATENT

DIRECTIONS.

Push left hand into garment.

Place gripping surface direct on worn part.

Keeping exact size & shape, turn inside out and darn in usual way.

Never push darner into stocking or sleeve.

Pat. No. 159770.

PRICE 1/6

Marvel Darner label

I so wanted to imagine that Sylvia was using one of these when she sat for that painting, but the painting precedes the darner by three years, so it can’t be; Edwin List Cornell filed his patent entitled Improvements in and relating to darners on 29th March 1920. Here’s how he summed up his darning innovation:

‘A darning-block is provided with a surface made up of the ends 4′ of wires or the like. The wires may be mounted upon a backing and secured in a recess cut in the head of the block. In place of recessing the block, the wires may be surrounded with a ring secured to the block.’

The patent was finally published a year later on 10th March 1921. I’ve also seen aluminium versions of the Marvel, which I assume are later than the wooden one, but that’s my conjecture, judging by the typography. One of the boxes for the aluminium version quotes the manufacturer as:

 E Cornell & Sons, 54 Lower Thames Street, London, EC5.

So what is this ominous notice from the The London Gazette of 19th May 1925?

MARVEL DARNER COMPANY Limited.

NOTICE is hereby given, pursuant to section
188 of the Companies (Consolidation) Act,
1908, that a Meeting of the creditors of the above
named Company will be held at Chancery-lane
Station Chambers, High Holborn. London, W.C. 1,
on Thursday, the 21st day of May, 1925, at
2 o’clock.
(094) J. L. GOODWIN, Liquidator.

Presumably this isn’t Cornell‘s company? Surely he was trading as ‘E Cornell & Sons’? His product explicitly includes ‘Cornell’ in the name. Could the Marvel Darner Company Ltd have been making this  ’Marvel’ darning product, a sewing machine attachment which crops up in an Australian newspaper advertisement in October of the same year? Or did Edwin have a darning company which ran into insolvency and then resumed production under another company later? Mysterious. What do you think?

I haven’t been able to discover much more about inventor Cornell, beyond the clue in that company name that he had a family. He continued to tinker with domestic equipment after he developed his darner, filing the patent Improved device for separating cream from milk (January 1932), and Improvements appertaining to domestic pans and the like (April 1935). Other than those patents, I can find no further information about him. Harold Gilman had died of Spanish flu way back in 1919, and heaven knows who Sylvia was or what ever became of her. Some days you really wish you had a time machine. Improved, of course.

Shhh! Don’t tell anyone but this Valentine’s Day sees the publication of a book I’ve had a small hand in. Way back last summer I was asked to supply some props (table coverings, plates, cake platters, etc) and assist (including various episodes of cake/mug-holding to camera) on a couple of photo shoots for The Clandestine Cake Club Cookbook by Lynn Hill, out today from Quercus Books. It was a brilliant, fascinating experience.

The team of independent creatives and editors working on the book was wonderful: funny, fabulously talented, really welcoming, but also incredibly hard-working. I can offer you an illicit glimpse behind the scenes: some clandestine shots of a clandestine cookbook. How meta-secret is that?

Here’s Jane styling one of the more surreal images featuring a giant lemon fondant fancy. It’s sitting in a mini table-top set backed by the front of a doll’s house (supplied by moi) and accompanied by tiny chair place-markers (also supplied by you-know-who). The tablecloth was mine too.

prepping Giant Lemon Fondant Fancy shot

Here’s Emily, checking her shots. The little cloth with the lace mouse pattern hanging over the box is one of mine.

Checking if we nailed it

And here’s Anita, peering through one of my dodgier props (crocheted lace minus the linen tablecloth insert – aherm).

Prop linens

This may sound incredible, but arranging and shooting so much cake caused the whole team to suffer from a serious case of cake fatigue; by the end of each day, we  couldn’t bring ourselves to consume any more of the spongey stuff. Can you believe it? I know! Tragic.

Here’s some of the massed ranks of prop crockery, waiting to be pressed into service.

Prop crockery

And here’s a prop I was asked to rig on the spot: a vintage linen tablecloth* with transfer embroidery marks which I whisked up into an impromptu notice board. It may look finished but was actually entirely held together at the back with straight pins. It was destined to hold pictures from local Clandestine Cake Club groups, but didn’t make it into the final book. I thought I’d show it to you anyway.

Prop notice board

The base was two thicknesses of card cut from a chunky cardboard box. I padded it out with wadding cut from an old sleeping bag, then stretched the old linen over that. The ribbon (scraps, of course) is pinned to the cardboard with some drawing pins onto which I’d hot-glued plain plastic shirt buttons. I was rather pleased with the finished item’s Scandi styling. And, yes, that tiny wooden coffee pot hanging from a string is one of mine too.

Scandi notice board, created on set

I had the good fortune to meet Lynn Hill, the book’s indefatigable** author, who came down from Yorkshire to Bath for one of the shoots. She established the Clandestine Cake Club a couple of years ago, and its amazing success story is told over here. You can check out the CCC site to find a local club; if there isn’t one, you’re welcome to set up your own. Consult the website for details.

I’ve had a chance to look over the finished volume, playing ‘Spot My Prop’ with childish glee. But what really struck me is how dense this book is, packed to the endpapers with intriguing recipes, filled with the combined cakey know-how of the nation’s enthusiastic amateur bakers. You can view an extract from the book over here: that’s me holding the Strawberry Butterfly Bundt on page 223. A couple of my personal favourites (as tasted on shoot) were Lime & Coconut (wonderfully zingy) and Green Tea with Orange Icing (subtle and delicate); here’s a slice I took home and just managed to find room for.

Green Tea & Orange

The Clandestine Cake Club Cookbook launch events are happening across the nation. Take a peek over here for details of one in your neck of the woods.

*actually, I think it was a sofa antimacassar, but we wanted it to look like an old tablecloth

**I have to use this adjective periodically, just to remind myself how to spell it

I have to confess a new addiction. Without a couple of lines a day I start to feel cranky.

Don’t worry. It’s only Swiss darning! Yes, this mending technique is very more-ish indeed. It’s perfect for thinning areas that haven’t become properly holey yet: the sole of a sock or the elbow of a sweater. It can also be used to reinforce areas in anticipation of heavy wear. There are really wonderful decorative possibilities (Tom is the master!) but I am currently plodding along with the very basic version.

First, a few practicalities. Unlike regular darning, this can be worked from the front of the garment, which I really like as you can see exactly what you’re doing and it feels much more controlled. A darning mushroom is useful to keep your work well supported, though don’t over-stretch it. The yarn you choose should be the same weight and type of fibre as the rest of the garment; if wool, you want to aim for roughly 15-25% nylon content for improved wear. Bespoke darning yarns are ideal as they tend to have that proportion of nylon, but it’s also fun to experiment with odds and ends so it’s worth testing whatever leftover yarn you happen to have lying around  (tapestry, for example). Make sure you’re using about an arm’s length of yarn: more and it will be prone to tangle, less and you’ll be forever finishing off and restarting. Use a yarn-darning needle, meaning a blunt one; a pointed one will tend to split the fibres.

I invested in three pairs of John Arbon Textiles‘ Shetland wool socks a couple of years ago, and they were so comfy I wore them to death. They all became very thin across the ball of my foot; I think this indicates the high wool (or low nylon) content of the body of the sock; the contrast toe caps and heels appear to be made of something more robust. This pattern of wear might also indicate my lack of slippers, a situation which has now been rectified.

You can see the thinning here.

The method for Swiss darning is to follow the line of the knitted stitches. With stocking stitch this means going in and out two holes above, in and out two holes below. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat. You quickly get into a rhythm and learn to identify the right holes. Keeping the tension even takes a little getting used to.

Shh! Darning in progress.

I was using up odds and ends of darning yarn, so repaired the other sock in navy blue (and it didn’t look quite so good).

And here’s my second pair, one sock down. I’ve experimented with different ways of working in the ends, and I think I’m getting generally better at it.

By the way, that green stuff is a vintage skein of Botany mending yarn. As Swiss darning consumes a lot of yarn, you do need quite a bit to complete two socks. These skeins are ideal for the job, but I haven’t found any new darning yarn available in any quantity. Just smallish cards. If you happen to know where to buy the stuff in bulk, please let me know.

Next I plan to unpick the inferior darning job I did on my blue socks and rework those, still in a similarly bright colour. And then I’m looking forward to reinforcing some elbow patches. I find this such a soothing, satisfying way of mending a knitted garment; it really does feel like an authentic, robust way of rebuilding a fabric. Here’s a page from the vintage needlework book I was following: Dressmaking and Needlework by Catherine A. Place, published in 1953. I hope you’ll have a go too.

Here’s a little pile of corduroy scraps, waiting for their moment in the spotlight.

Corduroy scraps

When my lovely neighbour took a tumble down her stairs (thanks to that pesky balance problem) and landed with her legs tangled up in the banister rail, she thankfully suffered nothing worse than a set of spectacular bruises. And her corduroy trousers were ripped across one knee.

My neighbour is a total sweetheart, so I happily took in a pile of mending from her (Warning: anyone else, please don’t ask!). Most of it I repaired inconspicuously, even invisibly, but when it came to the trousers I thought I’d give her a talking point; she’d already told me that she considered them rag, so anything I could do would be happily received.

Time to look through my scrap pile. That kingfisher blue jumped out at me screaming “STITCH ME!”. A little subtle overcasting and the repair was done.

Kingfisher patch

Yes, maybe it’s a little… obvious. Even a tad toddler.

Question: if you were the other side of seventy, would you be happy to wear such a conspicuous repair? I’d love to know. I’ll report back on how my neighbour is getting on – whether she is wearing her little flash of kingfisher blue beyond the confines of the house.