I'm selling me bits...

And what 'bits' might they be LL?

This is why...

Perusing peoples' blogs I get it in my head, to try yet another skill,

adding yet more strings to my bowed bow.

What now?

Slashing... that's what.

I do like a nice slash, don't you?

Close your eyes and picture a very resplendent

Henry VIII in magnificent doublet with slashed sleeves.

The myriad of sumptuous velvets, silks and slubby fabrics spilling

out from the slashes.

Job's a goodun, thought I, how easy that will be...

all you do is lay lots scraps (such a good idea in these straightened times)

onto a base fabric, top with another interesting material.

Sew as if the devil was jigging on yer Juki.

Then just cut between the lines.

How easy is that?

The best bit is the duffing up... 

you can whack it, bash it, smack it, not forgetting to wash it!

Now comes the really exciting bit...

out of the washing machine comes this truly

one-off piece of 

Salvador Dali meets Picasso on a bad hair day

(Yes, I know Picasso didn't have any hair latterly, 'bare' with me!)

work of art.

And here comes the rub, yes I did rub it...

too hard I think.

No self-respecting rag would be seen dead looking like this.

Get a grip LL...

let's face it you're no

 Cath Kidson (perish the thought) of the crafting world.

On the floral front, Constance Spry can rest easy in her grave.

Fanny in her kitchen in the sky, with diamonds.
Coco Chanel in her cutting room on a cloud.

You just, whichever way you look at it...
  haven't got it.

So.....
don't let's kid ourselves anymore.

Okay?

Over the next few weeks, I shall be flogging off
all things over the years I've collected, squirrelled and generally
hoarded.

Starting with these

and these

and these

this magical flapper dress,
given to me by a friend whose Mother has just died at 
just short of 100.
This is the genuine article.
She suggested I cut it up...
How could I?

And as we speak, a carrier bag full of things... 
just like this has turned up

Yes, I know I look like I've just stepped out of
 Downton Abbey.
Upstairs or down, I can't decide,
although in my heart I know!

My head tells me, with my waspish way with words
I could so easily be the Dowager Duchess.

Any road, I'm off to learn my lines...
just in case the call comes!