Cats and sewing don’t mix
I started on my 1940s dress this evening – well at least the calico version. I moved out the cutting table, started putting out the pieces and measuring to check my grainlines were straight. Like most dressmakers I hung my measuring tape around my neck to have it handy through the process. Next thing I feel a strong tug on the measuring tape. At first I thought I’d just lent forward and got it stuck between me and the cutting table… but as the tugs got more vigorous I knew I had an assistant. Saffron thought this was a great game. When I withdraw the measuring tape, she decided to ‘bat’ at my arm instead. To my surprise I did managed to finish cutting out the fabric. At the end of it when folding away the excess calico I had to yank it out from under 6.5 kilo of cat who had decided it was a good bed.
Not content with this interfence, Licorice then tried to ‘assist’ me in putting in the tailor’s tacks. [As an aside, yes, my dressmaking teacher encourages the use of ‘strings’ instead of chalk marks. I think the more I moan about my dislike of tailor’s tacks the more she insists I use them].
I think the girls had a secret ‘cat’ agreement to take it in turns ‘assisting’ the sewing. Once Licorice had thoroughly interfered with my markings, Saffron then stole half my chair space at the sewing machine table. I persisted. Then I ran out of bobbin.
At this point, I threw my arms up in the air and slumped in the armchair where I was quickly leapt upon by Saffron. Not content with selecting anywhere else in the unit to sleep but my lap, Licorice tried to muscle her way in to my lap. For once, Saffron was stubborn and wouldn’t move even an inch. This wasn’t enough for Licorice to give up. She just sat on top of her until they both ‘spread’ sideways like expanding pancakes.
Meanwhile, over at chateau de Andrew – according to a text received – Pickle was running around like a squirrel on crack.