So, Gentle Readers, I am unwell. I can distinctly remember the last time I had five full days off work; it was in 2006, and we had just finished moving back into our beautifully renovated house, my lovely Ma and Hank were visiting, and I got a chest infection. Not just any old chest infection, you understand, but the sort that fills you so full of sticky green slime that when friends ring up to find out where you are, you can't even talk to them, because your airways are full of said sticky green slime. It was truly disgusting.
Anyway, I have fallen victim to one of the three or four viruses doing the rounds of the office, which started with just a light head cold, many thanks to Mr Golightly for passing that to the whole household, but unlike him, I didn't take to my bed for 24 hours; I just kept going to work & blowing my germs all over the office. On Friday last week, I even went along to our Annual Christmas In July lunch at a hotel in town; anything less festive I have yet to experience, but a lot of food was consumed, and no small amount of alcohol, but I left at 3.00pm, heading for bed.
Saturday was the worst day, Sunday not much better, Monday I thought "this is ridiculous" and rang the Doctor. First available appointment: 10.00am yesterday. Lucky it was my 9-day fortnight day, and I wasn't going into work anyway. Lovely woman that she is, my doctor took one look at me, listened to my chest, looked down my throat and in my ears, and banished me to bed for the rest of the week. Well, strictly speaking, she said "stay at home", so I'm still feeling pretty crap, but I'm in the sewing room, and that's got to be a good thing (for me, and possibly even for you!)...
Some fabric has been purchased since we last spoke:
I found a new shop in Mona Vale, called Patchwork on Pittwater, and I went a bit nuts with bits and pieces of all of these - I think the Amy Butler might end up as a cushion, because it is rather gorgeous...
In other news of somewhat more importance than feeding my fabric addiction, Mr Golightly's lovely niece Emma F-G is very soon going to have her baby, and I, somewhat fruitlessly, I might add, scoured through my books yesterday looking for something I could make for the baby, truly unnamed, but known to some of us as Linus. That's a bit like the artist formerly known as Prince, isn't it? Maybe he needs to become Prince Linus? Oooh, I like that.
Anyway, I found a pattern for a reindeer (yes, a reindeer - didn't you know they're going to be the next big thing after monkeys, owls and talking cats...) in this book. Hers was all white fleecy, graceful embroidery and felt. Mine is .... not.
Cute, yes? Those antlers were a bugger, let me tell you.