Evidence that not all female teachers were good little girls when they were young
Along with nature-loving followers who stay loyal despite my occasional posts about dead rats, using cat skins to clothe babies, and hating green fields, I now seem to have a few whose blog names are things like 'I adore making pretty cushions decorated with flowers' or 'Stencilling patterns onto textiles is my idea of ecstasy'. I thought it was time to 'fess up, just in case any of these lovely people were expecting me, at some point, to post any pictures of my latest ventures into fashion design or velvet curtains. I so hate to disappoint. This little story may illustrate the extent of my skills in using a needle and thread of any sort. When I was fourteen, we had to learn how to sew at school. I use the terms 'learn' and 'sew' very loosely here, as you will discover. Rather than starting off slowly with a handkerchief or a teatowel, as I was advised, I decided, being a pig-headed adolescent, I would make myself a pair of trousers. As th...