We sat on her bed, looking at the contents of her wardrobe. After flicking through the rail, I finally agreed with her. All her dresses were not suitable for a near-teen. It didn’t help that since last summer she has stretched. I mean really stretched. Dresses were now tunics and the rest were too young.
More dresses were definitely required. (Music to a mother’s ears, who likes to sew.)
It was a Saturday morning. The fabric shop would be open. Heading downstairs, I selecting a few possible patterns from my collection and let her choose.
(note to self: must find my sewing pattern for this blouse, to make another)
I used to travel a lot with one of my early jobs. It meant days of living out of a suitcase and turning up at the railway stations. Checking myself that I didn’t go into automatic and head off to London instead of Birmingham. Checking connections to Edinburgh, so I had a good chance of getting there in time. Making sure I had all my teaching notes, info on disk (memory sticks and the Cloud were yet to be invented) and a good book, before I put miles between me and home. Organization was the key. Continue reading