So here I am, in the beautiful Ribble Valley of rural Lancashire, living in a red-brick cottage situated in a very, very ancient village, and enjoying the company of a talkative rescued cat and my family of sewing machines.
I've sewn for as long as I can remember, learning on my mum's old treadle Singer as soon as my legs were long enough to reach the treadle.
Having lived and worked all over the world, and always had a wanderlust and itchy feet, I'm more surprised than anyone else to feel so settled and contented in a little Lancashire village which runs to one shop-cum-PO-cum-off-licence, and five buses a day, none on Sundays. I've lived here just over a year now, and I simply love it. It's difficult for me to imagine living anywhere else, and for - I think - the first time in my life, I'm seriously thinking about being here 'next year' and 'the year after next', instead of thinking 'where shall I go to next?' and getting that frisson of excitement at the prospect of a new job, new people and a new home in a new country.
So I thought I'd chronicle some of my sewing adventures here, as well as some of my thoughts, memories and plans.
|For whom was the sunlounger provided, eh?|