Back in the summer holidays of 2001, I made two quilts for Ruth and as you can see from the photo, Ruth cut out the pigs. We used fabric left over from other projects or cut up old clothes such as Ruth’s favourite dalmation trousers and the quilts featured her pigs, chooks and Blott the dog.
The two beds in her room have now been replaced with one larger bed so I thought I’d join the two quilts together. If they had been beautifully constructed, well planned quilts this would have been a problem. But I’m impatient. I join random bits of fabric together, run out half way and have to cut up more old clothes to use. (I was that student who didn’t bother to read through the exam paper first and the cook who gets halfway through a recipe only to discover the vital ingredient is missing.) There was no repeating pattern or carefully selected colours, so I just cut off the border from each quilt, stitched them together and sewed on a new backing.
The backing is an old sheet, there’s a slightly obvious join up the middle and some dodgy stitching but a new border slightly unifies the whole thing. By contrast, the quilt on my bed is beautifully made …
Because my mother made it. You won’t be surprised to know that it’s one of my most treasured possessions.
I know that I shall never have the patience or skill to make a quilt that matches the ones my mother makes but I’m happy to cobble something together and Ruth and I had fun making the first ones. I made all my children take their quilt with them to university and somehow no matter how awful their room looked, at least they had a bit of home with them. Doubtless they took them off as soon as I left, but it made me feel happier. Looking in books and on blogs at photographs of perfectly stitched or knitted articles can sometimes be a little intimidating but I say “Have a go”. Just because it’s not perfect doesn’t mean we can’t get pleasure making something.