This weekend has been one of action! A flurry of snow on Friday and plummeting temperatures (to below zero C) prompted us to put the teak table and chairs that we have outside into hibernation, as well as to clear up two big sacks full of broken plastic spades, rotting planks of wood and a burst swimming pool. Nothing is as poignant a reminder of a bygone summer as a paddling pool with all the air let out of it.
And some lonely toys littering the garden.
Anyway, Saturday saw Sir Pe in full swing. The green tarpaulin was brought indoors along with several hundred autumn leaves and there was much cutting of said tarp and rustling and sighing and measuring with measuring thingies (that’s a technical term).
You see, last year we tied the tarp around the table and chairs, but this year Sir Pe wanted the tarp to cover everything and not get blown off in the storms. So, he decided to sew a tailor-made cover out of the tarp for the outdoor furniture. Before we met, he used to do a lot of parachute jumping. And he used to be a certified nut parachute rigger. When a millimetre makes the difference between life and death, you really have to have an eye for detail.
I can’t sew and don’t really see the point. After all, isn’t that why safety pins were invented?
When I was at school, we had sewing lessons. And I got THROWN out! It wasn’t easy, mind you, but I succeeded. The school had just bought a brand new electric sewing machine and I was one of the first to use it. (I was making a skirt, I recall.) When the machine was all set up, I sat down, started it and managed to sew about two stitches … and then… the darn needle went and broke.
The teacher was furious and asked me to leave the class. And not come back. That suited me fine as I spent the rest of the year reading books instead of sewing.
I might not sew, but I am pretty good at standing around and admiring the handiwork of those who can.