Punish me some more… please!

This blog is all about the big things in life. Oh yes! Failures, politics and passionate sewing tales…

Ready for another one? Then come stroll with me down memory lane … back back in the mists of time, when I was a poor naive girl locked up in a cold-hearted boarding school in the south of England. (Are you feeling sorry for me yet?)

This tale also involves needle and thread. You see – one bright sunny Sunday morning at said boarding school, I was getting ready to go to church and put on my candy-striped school uniform (a dress). Most of the clothes we wore were ‘recycled’ or second-hand, if you like, and this was no different. The poor dress was feeling a bit tired around the hem and had somehow managed to come unravelled (just like my mind).

Needless to say, an eagle-eyed matron spotted the falling-down hem, and before I could say, “Terribly sorry, old chum! I’ll just go and sew it up again, shall I now?” I was sent back upstairs to the dorm with a needle and thread in my hands.

So, I lay down on my bed (it was the bottom bunk) on top of a psychedelic 70s, slightly frayed and grubby, bedspread and proceeded to sew the hem back up. Without taking the dress off first. Because I was in a bit of a hurry as we had to go off to church.

Well – you know what is coming next, don’t you?

The matron told me to get a move on and when I got up ….

… the whole bedspread followed after me like a mermaid tail gone wrong.

That’s right – here’s a newsflash! If you try to sew a hem while still wearing your dress and not being able to see at the back properly, then you will succeed in sewing yourself onto the bedspread!

For some strange reason, the matron got very upset as she thought that I had sewn myself onto the bedspread on purpose. (She should have realized by now that I was just no good at sewing!)

I was packed off back to the dorm and told to stay on my bed, unpick the bedspread from my dress, and miss church!

Poor me: I was forced to languish on my bed and read a book whilst bathing in a glorious shaft of sunlight. 90 minutes of pure bliss on my own.

With punishments like that – who needs rewards?