In recent years I have had a craving to be more creative. Blogging may have started it and it has progressed through to writing poetry, drawing, painting, half arsed sculpting, sewing, knitting, crocheting and lately, cross stitch. Each new pursuit pushes the previous one into the background, but I do like to go back to see if I can improve on past efforts for each.
The cross stitch is one that allows my mind to wander back and forth (sometimes requiring un-stitching) and the very act of needlework took my brain down a pathway to a time long, long ago and remembered pain and humiliation. I was thinking how horrible I was at anything to do with hand sewing when I was a child and I have vivid memories of the old bat who taught the girls in my class to do samplers (this was the 60's and a catholic school). For those unfamiliar with this weird ritual, it was a way to make sure good catholic girls could do the very important stitches that would set us up for a life time of doing very important stitches that don't really serve any purpose. My sampler was, to say the very least, shit. None of the stitches were nice and neat and the chain stitch sucked to the point that neither resembled a chain or a stitch - more a knot really - and my blanket stitch would be saving no blankets any time soon.
The previously mentioned old bat was very new to the school and either had not been told something kind of relevant about me and my crappy stitches, or was really a horrible old bat. You see my mother had passed away earlier in the year. All the other little girls could take their samplers home and mummy could help them, so next lesson, lovely neat samplers. I of course did not have the advantage of a living mother and the only person I could ask for help was.........the old bat. For reasons best know to herself, it was beyond her to help me perfect my stitches, it was a one shot only deal, demonstrate stitches, send off girls with samplers and wait for beautifully finished item next.
My dad was aware of what was happening, not sure if I told him or if someone else did, and while he thought the woman was being unfair, didn't really think that not being able to do chain or blanket stitch rated very highly in the scheme of things. This is a rational but doesn't quite address the fact that my self esteem was taking a battering and 7 year old girls also don't understand about different circumstances and sniggered at my hopelessness.
So after a lifetime of thinking my hand sewing was pretty appalling, imagine my delight when I found I actually am pretty good with a needle. I have a habit of saving my dogs stuffed toys far beyond what most rational people would do. While trying to save one of the more seriously torn toys I suddenly realised the stitch that allowed me to hold back the tide of stuffing was........BLANKET STITCH! I don't now how it happened, but there it was, lovely even blanket stitch.
Now I am happily stitching to repair and stitching for fun. It's neat and does what it's meant to do.
So suck on that you old bat (who I think was called Mrs Langton). I hope you had a life time of knots forming halfway down your thread, and pricked you finger every stitch you did. How hard is it to help a little girl who was struggling with her stitches and why act like I was destined for a lifetime of failure for not meeting you stupid expectations.
I will admit, I have never tried to do chain stitch since that time. Strangely the lack of chain stitch has not caused me a lifetime of misery.
What the hell is the purpose of chain stitch anyway?
