Oh my aching feet...

Well, Gentle Readers, I am happy to report that my first day of Upholstery School went very well, with one or two small exceptions. 
Getting up at 0530 was not so pleasant, especially as my brain had been churning all night to ensure I didn't forget to get up and I felt like a big bucket of dren when I got up, but the trip took exactly an hour (have no fear, I'm sure when the Universities go back, it will take longer!).  Imagine my horror when I got there and discovered that not only is there no ATM/cash point/teller machine, but even worse, the espresso machine wasn't working, and I couldn't have coffee.  Oh dear.  

Anyway, most of the people are lovely, except of course for the other exception - Missy Badhair and attitude who turned up late for the information day also managed to be half an hour late on the first day (if people can't make it on time on the first day, what's the rest of the year going to be like?) - but the winner was a person who turned up 45 minutes late, then sat in the back whispering to Missy Badhair - hadn't enrolled, couldn't fill in the form (apparently she forgot her phone (so?) and her glasses..) but she did manage to bond almost instantly with Missy Badhair, and impart the very important news that she lived in Balmain, she went to lots of bands, and they should go out some time.  All this whilst the teacher was telling us lots of unimportant stuff like... timetable, safety info, equipment needs.  You know.  The useless stuff.  


Then, to top it all, when we were making our first thingy (oh, did I forget to mention we made something?  Well!  We did!!), she was so busy talking over the top of the teacher she missed the instructions and had to ask people what to do.  I hate hate hate people like that.  When I was a trainer, I would let that go once, then I'd jump on them.  It's not fair on the other students, because then they miss out on what you're saying whilst answering the non-listener's questions.


Anyway, my Instant New Best Friend, N, leant over at this point and whispered to me "I'm going to kill her...".  Hah.  I love it when somebody else gets it.  Then when we got back into the workshop, she managed to use everybody else's equipment because she hadn't been listening when the equipment list was given out & hadn't picked up everything she needed, she dropped a 1.5 metre ruler on the floor & left it there, she picked up my safety goggles from my desk & put them on because they were closer than hers (yep, a whole 60cm/2 feet away, that's a long way when you're a rude inconsiderate jerk), she didn't put anything away, she didn't sweep any benches... I'll give her a month.  And you can bet your bottom dollar she'll quit because the teachers don't like her.  It won't be her fault, oh no.  


Anyway, now that I've got that out of my system, I will show you pictures of the magnificent upholstered article we made:

Confused yet?  What was yesterday?  Valentine's Day, of course.  Whoever said Upholstery teachers don't have a sense of humour was completely wrong.  They got us to cover a wooden heart.  Two different fabrics so you can learn how to deal with different levels of flexibility and grain, lessons on how to mark out fabric using blackboard chalk & cut it out using scissors, (almost quaint, really), and the most scary part, a compressed-air powered staple gun to put it all together.  Man, those babies pump it out.


Anyway, I now know that the stuff round the edges is called gimp, and it hides a multitude of sins, and it's used to finish off the two ugly rows of staples that hold this baby together, along with my burnt finger's new best friend - the hot glue gun.  See, who said upholstery was a skill?  Bring me your chaise lounge, your chesterfield, your wing chair.  Bring me a valium.  


And now, I must get in the shower, because I'm going into town for a social event.  And did I mention it's going to be 21°C today & dampish?  Yeehaw.  Love it.


Ciao!