Unpacking the Past

Since the episode with the mice in the pantry Simon has been concerned that our stuff that is still in boxes in the graineterie is vulnerable. So just lately we've been bringing in a box or two at a time, unpacking them and giving the contents more permanent homes, or checking and repacking so we can be sure they are safe.

 More textiles and haberdashery than you can poke a stick at.

Mostly it's my past we've been unpacking: my big heavy oilskin riding coat that came from the set of the Man From Snowy River; vases made by my friends Ricky, Elise and Gillian; raku pots from Contemporary Ceramics in London; a collection of hair accessories and brooches; three boxes of fabrics and haberdashery; as well as Simon's best dinner service.

 One of the boxes.

Fortunately, everything is in good condition and hasn't suffered by being five years in storage. It's nice to see it all again. It doesn't feel like that long since we set eyes on it.

There are many memories attached to each piece of fabric, each hand made object, but the past is a foreign country, literally and figuratively. I can still remember where I got each length of cloth and what my plans for them were but it won't be me who gets out the scissors for a new project now. Next time I have a bit of spare cash I'll take some to our local dressmaker and have her realise the outfit I have in my mind. I've seen her work and we appear to have similar taste.

The fabrics and the vases belong to the same period in my life, from my mid-twenties to my mid-thirties. Creative stitching and dressmaking was my principle leisure activity. I sewed every day, exhibited my work from time to time and had a circle of like minded friends who all had fabric and haberdashery collections to rival mine. It was something I never regained when we moved to London, despite spending many hours at Hampton Court with the Embroiderers' Guild.

 Large vase by REG.

A job in the conservation and care of historic collections at a large heritage and nature conservation organisation that absorbed my interest and the demise of my beloved Bernina finally put an end to my sewing days. I retained a sewing room, but in time my focus shifted back to my childhood passion for insects and nature. Lace and cotton shared a desk with a microscope and boxes of pinned flies.

The fabric will  get carefully checked, refolded, fondled a bit and packed away again in a more secure box, probably for another 5 years. The vases get to stay out and grace the dining room table, the raku is in the spare bedroom, my oilskin hanging in the entry hall. The hair accessories and brooches will probably just sit in a box in the wardrobe. I've got a lot less hair now and don't wear the sort of clothes you can pin a brooch to.

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A Trip to the Supermarket: Yesterday we took Claudette on a little outing to the supermarket, partly to give her a run, partly to pick up a few bits and pieces. We foolishly thought the rain had finished for the day. It mizzled all morning, but by 2 pm the sky was clear. We got over to the supermarket with no rain, but while we were inside it started to tip down. We drove home with the windscreen cracked open (you can wind a Traction's windscreen out at the bottom) to ensure the water seeping through the aged rubber seal didn't drip down into the cabin but blew out and down the sides of the car. The windscreen seal is one of the few parts for a Citroen Traction Avant that it is now impossible to obtain, but without it, Claudette will remain a fair weather vehicle.

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A la cuisine hier: Spaghetti carbonara, an old favourite which I haven't made for years.