Overflowing with enthusiasm after my time with the fabulous Julie Arkell at Cowslip Workshops, and being a little brooched-out back then, I hankered after making a fabric necklace. We weren't shown how to make them on the course though you will see Julie's necklace in the photos if you look with eagle eyes at this blog post, as Julie brought many of her beautiful handmade items to share with us.
Off I went, maybe it was all the sun (or all the wine?), merrily chopping out circles of Liberty Tana Lawn, as I decided this would be a good fabric to make the "balls" in (beads really?), being relatively light weight.
Ooooh, how I loved watching my little pile of balls grow. So very tactile, such delightful spriggy fabrics. (Note the Mollie Makes inspired photo!)
Having beavered away making rather a lot of the little balls, when I had finally sewn them together, I gaily flung my necklace round my neck and skipped indoors to the mirror to see how it looked. Giddy and exciting times, dear reader.
Oh horror of horrors! Had I not created the largest ever fabric necklace in history? It seems my sense of scale had deserted me. What size did you cut those delicious circles of Tana Lawn, Hen?
As such, I've rather preferred looking at my photos of piles or handfuls of Liberty fabric balls and when I just decided to write this post, I knew you would probably want to see a shot of the finished article. Well, goodness me if I had no idea where the necklace of disaster was, sadly discarded in disgust. However, a little search in the Den found it hanging on the back of the door.
(Look how dreadful the light is for photos. Oh I hate this time of year. Sulk.)
Admire my Ma Larkin-esque housecoat, why don't you, instead of that disgraceful necklace.
And while we're on the subject of housecoats and Mollie Makes-esque photos... I may as well add this one into the mix. Decidedly unflattering though this photo is, it still contains an undeniably splendid pink glass hen for my collection and another marvellous housecoat.
Maybe when the Munchkin is older and taller, he will not take such awful photos of me, shot from below, with me looking rather portly. Or is that when I stop eating cake?
Want to share your crafty disaster? Go on, it'll make me feel better (sob).