pining for my pin-cushion

Oh dear, oh dear.  My pin-cushion's snapped. 

I'd had a lovely, productive day.  This morning I went to see Cherie Blair speak at the Buxton Opera House as part of the marvellously eclectic Buxton Festival.  Last week the 'Other Half' and I went to see Ranulph Fiennes be wonderfully understated about trekking across the Antarctic.  Both talks were chaired by the classy Dame Janet Smith, who I had the pleasure of interviewing a few month's ago for High Peak Radio.

But I end the day feeling a sad loss.  It's a natty little gadget.  ('Other Half' calls it my wrist boil!)  The downside is that if I forget to put it on I stab myself in the wrist, but I'd covered it in Liberty's floral 'Paul' Kingly cord print.  It had survived a dunking in the bone china tea-cup that my sister bought me from Liberty of London for Christmas (see previous post about the dangers of sewing and drinking tea).

Fortunately, my mother (a dress designer herself) had given me a spare on my last visit to London but it's a plain navy and the sponge is quite sticky making it difficult to push pins in and get them out again.  A minor irritation but one that soon builds when cutting & tacking.

I'm drowning my sorrows in a glass of wine.  The pain is softened by the alcohol but also the pleasure of drinking from the Emma Bridgewater wine glass that my sister-in-law Sophie bought us for our 10th wedding anniversary.