Having a sort through bags of scraps from a previous project I have found some amazing things. Things that had disappeared into that abyss...the place where seam rippers, rotary cutters and needle packets go when one stops for a cup of tea.
(Hating to admit how many items I've rediscovered so far. Embarrassing really). If Timaru was suddenly buried under volcanic ash my sewing room would become one of those caches archeologists' dream of finding.
Imagine the confusion of looking at this sewing room from the view of a future fellow - trying to explain the existence of all these implements of the trade. As inexplicable as Easter Island I can picture it now...
*Man in a funny hat is bent over my rotary cutter , magnifying glass in one hand, gently brushing ash back from the handle while muttering. "Look! There are several of these sharp implements here, with odd round blades, probably used for ritual sacrifice. And all these fibres, this must have been a home industry where the people made cloth to sell at the village market".
(He mops his brow with a dusty handkerchief and squints at the audience) "It looks as though they had a special platform with a strange gridded green mat to perform the sacrifices on...and those long plastic gridded plates. Probably part of the offerings..."* (He'd have no idea how close he had gotten to the truth)
Although this thought is more fun than deciding which scraps to keep or toss, it's time to go back to the room of sacrificial fabric industry to finish fishing in the abyss for more long lost needle packets.
(Hating to admit how many items I've rediscovered so far. Embarrassing really). If Timaru was suddenly buried under volcanic ash my sewing room would become one of those caches archeologists' dream of finding.
Imagine the confusion of looking at this sewing room from the view of a future fellow - trying to explain the existence of all these implements of the trade. As inexplicable as Easter Island I can picture it now...
*Man in a funny hat is bent over my rotary cutter , magnifying glass in one hand, gently brushing ash back from the handle while muttering. "Look! There are several of these sharp implements here, with odd round blades, probably used for ritual sacrifice. And all these fibres, this must have been a home industry where the people made cloth to sell at the village market".
(He mops his brow with a dusty handkerchief and squints at the audience) "It looks as though they had a special platform with a strange gridded green mat to perform the sacrifices on...and those long plastic gridded plates. Probably part of the offerings..."* (He'd have no idea how close he had gotten to the truth)
Although this thought is more fun than deciding which scraps to keep or toss, it's time to go back to the room of sacrificial fabric industry to finish fishing in the abyss for more long lost needle packets.
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