Inspirations Mekong Cruise – another post

It has taken me too long to get down to writing about this fabulous cruise so I am now going to drop all the other pressing tasks that I have and just get on with it. After all, I finished writing my book a few weeks ago and I am no longer being bitten by fleas, so there’s really no excuse.

Our first stop on this trip was Siem Reap in Cambodia.

For those of you that don’t know, Siem Reap is the gateway city to the Angkor Wat (and other Angkor) temples. From the moment we walked into our hotel it was evident that this was going to be no ordinary trip. Apart from the beautiful surroundings and the scent of something in the hotel lobby (we never found out what it was, but it was scent-sational), the hospitality was more than outstanding. One knows that South East Asia has that reputation, but this was my first experience of it. At first one doesn’t know how to respond, but eventually one realises that one just needs to appreciate it, to react with similar respect and kindness, and to smile, because there is quite simply no reason not to.

Because we had all come from different parts of the world, we had arrived in dribs and drabs throughout the first morning. It took just a few hours, though, for all of us to find each other and only another short space of time before we had become a unit, banded together and got ourselves onto a fleet of tuk-tuks to visit the markets in Siem Reap. Driving through the disorderly streets of Siem Reap in a fleet of swaying tuk-tuks was a bonding experience like no other.

As I mentioned in my first post, South East Asia is an assault on the senses and this was our introduction. All manner of different smells, some spicy, some fishy, some identifiable and some, um, let’s just say, pungent.

Then the sights:

Colourful silks

Um, food

And my personal favourite:

The wiring.

Look, I live in Africa and we have huge electricity problems (I’ve recently bought a generator) but I had never seen anything like this. It seems to work though, which much of the time ours doesn’t, so who’s complaining.

By the end of that first day, our group had bonded. It was so easy to do that because despite the fact that the group consisted of Australians, Americans, Brits and two loud-mouthed South Africans – of which I was one – we all had a common interest and we were all keen to have fun. Well, Scott and Crash (our two men) weren’t mad stitchers, but what fun they were and how nice it was that they came along too. Rather brave chaps.

On our only full day in Siem Reap, we were picked up by a garnished tour bus (curtains, anti-macassars, tassels, fur on the dashboard – delightful) and taken to see the temples. Our tour guide, Mr Chum, was like everyone we met in Cambodia. An outstanding person, and full of interesting information.

Like many people, I never really knew what had happened in Cambodia or Vietnam. When those troubles were in the news I was either a disinterested teenager or a young mother pressed for time. Naturally one is curious and Mr Chum satisfied my curiosity. I now know of the horror and, as a result, admire the Cambodian people even more for the way they are today. Hardworking and happy, pulling themselves out of that horror with an attitude that one can only admire. Of course those that lost loved ones, or experienced the horror first hand, are affected but they seem to have put that behind them and are getting on with rebuilding their lives and their country. So inspiring.

As a group, we came to the conclusion that if one were thinking of visiting Cambodia one ought to do so soon. In five or ten years’ time one would not see the Cambodia we saw and loved because there is a lot of development happening, things are moving fast and it will be a completely different place.

It might have better roads, though.

The distance from Siem Reap to Kampong Chan, where our boat, The Mekong Navigator, was waiting for us is about 250 km. I would have said normally a two to three hour journey on a tarred road, it took us six hours! We bumped, we hit potholes, we were diverted onto detours and, after the initial shock, we just laughed (I also congratulated myself for having bought new underwear – foundation garments - shortly before I left home. Dread to think of how bruised my face would have become if I hadn’t.) For me, it was reminiscent of a trip I took from Lusaka to Victoria Falls in Zambia about 30 years ago. The same kind of road and one that would have been better without any tar. Because it was the state of the tarred surface that was the problem.

But then, we came around a corner and look what was waiting for us.

The Mekong Navigator

From the moment we were guided onto the boat from the muddy river bank, it was a five star experience. Once again, superb hospitality, sumptuous cabins, beautifully appointed communal areas and really good food.

We gathered in the upstairs bar every evening – where we very quickly learnt that it was cheaper to drink gin than it was to drink water - for a briefing on the next day’s events or outings. On some of the days we were stitching – those that weren’t stitching were taken on an outing – and on other days we were taken to places.

At this floating village, we snapped a Cambodian lady stitching on her verandah.

We bravely rode through chaotic traffic on cyclos to see the royal palaces in Phnom Penh;

We marvelled at the fact that entire families could fit onto one small motorcycle;

We took a ferry to Silk Island to see how silk is made;

And I took photos of dogs.

I could go on forever, but you will probably become bored. Remember when family friends went abroad when we were children? When they got back you were invited round for full evening of slide show. The most boring thing that every happened in my childhood and I don’t want to do that to you.

Besides, you may ask, what about the embroidery – the reason why we were there in the first place. For me, as one of the tutors, it was an enriching experience.

Because the classes were small and also because we were together for an entire week, we had the time to not only get to know one another, but also to really get into the nitty gritty of the stitching that we were doing. So often, when a class is large and the time is restricted, one has to almost gloss over the techniques, do them in a hurry and, as a tutor, feel that perhaps one hasn’t covered enough of the detail. Not so on the Mekong. We had all the time in the world and for me, personally, I felt that by the time we got off the boat all of my students knew exactly what they needed to know to complete their projects. That was very satisfying.

Needless to say, we had a beautiful room to stitch in.

We took over one end of the dining room and, the best part was that we could leave our stitching paraphenalia there for the entire week. Nobody touched it or moved it so we could keep going back to it either for a formal stitching session, or just to dip into it for a few quick moments while waiting for supper, a tender boat to fetch us, or whatever.

When I look back on it now, some three months later, the feeling that overrides all others is that everyone was so kind. Apart from being hardworking and terribly organised Fiona, who put the cruise together, is the kindest person in the world. And so is Susan. If someone was a little uneasy or nervous, the two of them made that person feel better. If someone needed to know something, Fiona or Susan gave them that information and if they didn’t know the answer to a question, they found that answer. Nothing was too much trouble.

That kindness didn’t stop with the two of them. Everyone in the group was kind. One or two people developed ailments on the boat (myself included) and if a bit medication was needed, there was always someone in the group prepared to share something they had in their luggage. The younger members of the group always made sure that the older participants could manage to walk over or climb up things. If someone seemed to be missing from a group activity, she was looked for and found. And so on……..

Yesterday afternoon I received an unkind email from abroad. It was completely unnecessary and I was dumbfounded. It did, however, make me look back fondly on the cruise and all of my fellow travellers. It also made me realise that whilst that may not be unique, it was also not inevitable. It came from the top and filtered down to everyone. For that alone, if Inspirations Magazine were ever to ask me to teach on another of their cruises, I would say yes. Even if I didn’t really have the time, or want to go to that part of the world. It is also why, when they do future cruises, you should consider taking part.

After we got off the boat at the end of our cruise, we parted ways in Saigon, having made fabulous friends. Fiona, her sister Lynnear, Susan and I didn’t go home. We went up to Hanoi and over to Ha Long Bay. We saw some ‘gobsmacking’ embroidery up there. I am going to write about that in another post. What I will say about that, for now, is that Fiona went home armed with a huge amount of information about the north of Vietnam. She is going to research it all and I am fairly sure that in the future, Inspirations Magazine will be making something happen in that part of the world. Watch out for it.

Inspirations Mekong Cruise - First post!

A few of you have asked why I haven’t done a blog post on the Inspirations Mekong Embroidery cruise. It was fabulous and so well organised, deserving of more than one post and I’m going to do something soon. I have had a problem though and to explain myself, the first thing I’m going to post is the email that I sent to our vet friend yesterday evening. Enjoy, and don’t be appalled. It happens and it is completely and utterly my fault.

” Flop,

I am going to tell you a long, sorry story. Whilst reading it, you may question my reasons for telling you. They will become clear.

I spent part of November in Cambodia and Vietnam, teaching on a cruise on the mighty Mekong River. Fascinating, amazing, an assault on the senses. All of them, particularly the sense of smell because although we were on a five-star boat with everything that entails, it was basically floating on the widest sewerage drain you are ever likely to encounter. After that was over four of us went up to Hanoi and then over to Ha Long Bay for a 3-day, 2-night additional cruise. We treated ourselves, because you can't go to Vietnam and not go to what is quite possibly the most beautiful spot in the world.

Those two countries do not have a square inch to spare. Everywhere, other than the shoulders of the roads, is either inhabited or cultivated. In fact, even the shoulders of the roads have motorbikes buzzing along, each carrying four to six persons and a load of building materials. Apparently they drive on the right hand side of the road, but you could never tell that by looking. They drive wherever there is a gap. Full of people, hot, humid, very tropical and really rather dirty. I had promised the dogs before I left that I would be careful of what meat I ate. I kept that promise. No street food, the rumour is they eat dogs there. You are jostled in crowded streets, there is litter, most buildings could do with a coat of paint and everything is ‘cheek by jowl’. It was wonderful. An experience that I was privileged to have had.

I got home on the 2nd of December and on the 5th of December I started itching. Initially it was thought that I was having an allergic reaction to penicillin because I'd had an ongoing tooth abscess problem. The antibiotic was changed, the tooth was extracted on the Thursday and I still itched. On the Sunday evening I took myself off to Mediclinic emergency, desperately looking for relief. I was given a cortisone drip, an anti-histamine injection and one or two other things, but still nothing changed. By this time I was covered in spots, pretty much everywhere. Went to my own doctor on the Wednesday, he upped the cortisone and provided me with soothing lotions. They didn't soothe, nothing changed. I was back on the Sunday and now - because I've been in South East Asia - I am treated for scabies, head lice and every other kind of vermin on the list. No change. My skin is feeling raw and I’m thinking these things survived Napalm and Agent Orange in the 70s, they must be extra resistant. Back on Tuesday, next available medication not in stock and a suggestion is made by one of the pharmacists that dog dip might help. Wendy and one of your colleagues may have told you that I had popped in to buy some. Somewhat wide-eyed, your colleague had not wanted to record it for human consumption. I said, put it down for Gladness who is the most likely member of our armed response team to have got mange, because of her heritage. He did. It was reasonably soothing - of all of them the most helpful - but still no real change. I continue to scratch, desperately.

By now my doctors are saying that we need a dermatologist, but it's two days before Christmas and theirs being a non-emergency speciality, they've all gapped it to an Indian Ocean island, or wherever it is they go to escape acne and dermatitis over the festive season. So, I'm put on Tramacet, which I gather is the last stop before morphine, to dull the itch and I continue with all the cortisone, anti-histamines and lotions that aren't working. The first half of each day, after I've been awoken from my Zolpidem induced (only four or five hours) disturbed sleep by the itch at about 4 in the morning and have dosed myself, I manage quite well but from mid-afternoon and every evening there is an eruption. Christmas is desperate, New Year no better. All that I'm doing is waiting for just one of the dermatologists to come back from wherever they are, I'm sitting in a corner scratching like a mongrel dog, drinking far too much red wine every evening because it helps, chain smoking and wild eyed. Two inches from an asylum. We've also fogged the house twice, brought in the steam cleaners, the washing machine is overworking with sheets and towels being changed daily. Handsome son says he feels dirty. You know, my mother went to Asia and didn't even bring me a t-shirt. Just scabies.

At lunch time today I finally saw a dermatologist, and that is why I'm telling you this long sorry story, and because you once asked me for a report back on a new product. She's taken a sample of skin, I have two stitches in my back and I will get the results on Thursday - but in the meantime, she is fairly sure of a probable diagnosis.

Between returning from Australia in October and leaving for SE Asia, I was frantic. We were in the middle of that dreadful postal strike, parcels had gone astray, we were organising couriers, resending orders, tearing our hair out. My new book is proving popular and that didn't help. But got it all sorted out, hopped on SA Airlink to Johannesburg where I later strapped myself into Cathay Pacific, took off for Hong Kong and heaved a sigh of relief. Had got it all done.

But I hadn't.

When I returned about three weeks later, on the first night I was home, I noticed that the dogs were crawling with fleas. I had forgotten to give them their flea tablets. Too preoccupied with getting myself and my passport off to the exotic East. Tail in between my legs, feeling ashamed, I dosed them with Comfortis there and then. Do you know where I'm going with this?

The fleas jumped off them and, not wanting to jump back because of Flop's Marvelous Muti, infested the house and mostly, the chair I sit in every evening. I recall a few flea bites, one or two, nothing major. But, basically, I've had an allergic reaction to fleas which should only have lasted about three weeks, but for the fact that they are in my favourite chair and contribute a bit more saliva or whatever every evening. I haven’t seen a single flea, of course, and I have been checking for every kind of insect, believe me.

I am now on new medication, more lotions and, if the biopsy says that the dermatologist is correct, after itching to near-insanity for one full month (exactly a month, as it happens) there is light at the end of the tunnel. Swat Pest Control have been phoned with a request for a deep, deep fumigation and I await a confirmed day from them, that infested chair has been moved out of the TV lounge and my general state of mind is back on track so that I can finish the book I'm writing by the end of this month.

And your report back? Comfortis is good, too #&%$ing good. We will continue to use it – of course we will. It’s amazing. However, don’t. Do not break the cycle. Particularly in summer. I’ve learnt my lesson.

We must arrange a dinner date. Soon.

Kind rgds Hazel”

Rumours and Strikers

I tend not to belong to organisations like Guilds or women’s clubs like Book Clubs.

I did join some of these things when I was younger but didn’t last very long because they just weren’t for me. I tend to want to get on with things on my own and I can’t be doing with all the time that is wasted talking around problems when they could be solved in an instant with logical thought and decisive action. If I am to be honest, though, the main reason why I tend to keep away is because I don’t do gossip, rumour and scandal. I just don’t. I’m not interested. If you tell me something it is likely to go nowhere because usually I forget it within a moment, and even if I do remember it I don’t pass it on because that would either be unkind or dishonest. Because let’s face it, most of what is passed on by people who love to spread rumour is, at worst, completely untrue or, at best, has become rather blurred along the way.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no saint. I am a straight talker and I have a foul mouth. So foul, in fact, that when I developed a tooth abscess with a swollen face in Australia recently, my fellow South African teachers who accompanied me to a Medical Centre to find a Doctor, came to a general consensus (while I was in his consulting room) that it was because my foul mouth had finally erupted! They were probably correct and I agreed with them. But if I were to choose between the vices, I know I would rather that the words coming out of my mouth were interspersed with a few choice ones than that they were untrue or hypocritical.

I live in a smallish city that has only one representative for each of the brands of sewing machines that are available. The previous owner of the shop that represents one of the brands was a person whom I liked very much. I got on well with her because, like me, she didn’t mince words. If she could do something for you she told you and if she couldn’t, she said so. She was never rude (she was too much of a lady for that) but she didn’t have time for unreasonable requests or complaints and she didn’t pamper anyone. And that’s why the local Guilds said terrible things about her.

That business has now changed hands and I am hearing that they now don’t like the husband of the woman who has bought it. I’m not really entitled to an opinion because I’ve only been in there once since the changeover and I haven’t met the man. I am, however, willing to bet that they were looking for faults and were waiting to pounce the moment he put one foot wrong. Because that is what a pack does. Although pounce is not really the correct word. Their methods are more insidious than that. Whatever word you use, though, it is unkind and potentially very damaging to a business that is, after all, supplying their needs and, as far as I can see, doing it well.

Over the years I have seen doctors’ careers damaged and shops being forced to downscale because of vicious rumours that started in embroidery classes, Guilds and book clubs. Just this week I was told that a friend of mine, who has recently been very ill, was poisoned by her husband. Can you believe that? What sorts of minds dream up these things? I’m not sure, but what I do know is that they are minds that are not sufficiently occupied. They hear something, add a little bit of their own stuff, embroider on it and pass it on. Very quickly.

But onto the reason why I decided to write this post in the first place. This week I received this in an email:

“I was talking to a friend who was in your class at Country Bumpkin (how I would have loved to be there) and she mentioned errors in the plaid instructions. Have you done an errata at all?”

She is, of course, referring to the workshops I did recently at Beating Around The Bush in Adelaide, Australia. A wonderful event, truly wonderful and one you should all put onto your bucket list.

The plaid instructions she talks about are the weaving stitches that feature in my new book, Crewel Intentions, and there are no errors. None whatsoever, or certainly not any that we have picked up since publication in June. We are, of course, all simple human beings and everyone is fallible, so it is perfectly possible that something will come to light in the future. But for now, no. As far as we aware there no errors in the weaving instructions.

So I guess what I am doing is appealing to you. If you hear this story, please scotch the rumour for my sake, the sake of my publishers and for the sake of those shops that are stocking the book. It’s not fair to any of us.

And now that we have that out of the way, on a slightly different subject, I would like to thank all of our customers who have been so patient while we have been dealing with the protracted postal strike that we are having to endure. I think it’s sitting at about 11 weeks and counting. All of our parcels, but for one, have reached their destinations and we are using couriers to get our parcels out. Their rates are excellent and in many cases, cheaper than the post office – so guess who we will be recommending in the future. Because their service is excellent. They can’t, however, match the post office rates on lighter international parcels and we are asking our customers to hold back if they want to place small orders.

The news from the post office is that they have now obtained a High Court Interdict against the worst of the strikers, which prevents them from intimidating those that want to go to work, and that sorting has started again in many of the main sorting centres. They aren’t yet running at optimal levels so as soon as the contact (that took me two weeks to find) emails me to tell me that anything we post will run smoothly through the system, I will be emailing everyone on my list to suggest they go ahead. In the meantime, the post office shipping option is disabled on the website and the only choice is Aramex Couriers.

If you want to place a small order (or even a bigger one) you are welcome to send us a list of what you would like. We will work out the comparative rates for you and, also, if there is a huge difference and you choose to wait, we will add your name to the list of those we need to inform once this post office nightmare is just a distant bad dream.

The Digital Age and Embroidery Magazines

Since the advent of the internet and the advances that it has made, particularly with regard to publishing, it’s a subject that comes up regularly. I am often asked if (and when) my books, designs and patterns will be available in digital format. My answer is always no they won’t be. Not for now, anyway. There are few reasons for that.

The first is my favourite gripe. Theft. If you spend time in the company of young men who are computer savvy you very quickly learn from them how easy it is to get anything you want off the internet. It’s all out there from movies, television series, books, magazines……. The only thing that would stop you from committing wholesale theft is your own ethics. Because nothing else is going to put the brakes on your actions.

The other thing that might stop you would require deeper reflection.

For all of my life books and magazines have been a source of inspiration. From embroidery to home decoration, cooking to gardening (well maybe not cooking and gardening, I do as little of those two as I can possibly get away with), I have bought magazines and books to inspire and instruct me. It is not how I learnt to embroider, but it is how I have expanded my knowledge of stitches and techniques. If it wasn’t for books and magazines I wouldn’t know the name of, say, a Roman Blind, let alone how to make one. I would still be calling a Festoon Blind ‘one of those puffy blind things’. I would not know the difference between a duvet, bed spread or comforter and, and, and…….. These are not things that you necessarily learn from your mother or grandmother because they came from a time when there was less interplay between the regions and cultures of the world. They didn’t think there was a difference!

It is magazines and books that keep all of us up to date, inspire us and tell us about things we’ve not heard of before. And for that to happen there have to be teams of people gathering that information and putting it together in tempting publications. These teams of people need to make a living. If readers are going to steal digital copies off the internet or pilfer in the old fashioned way by photocopying their friends’ magazines and books, it goes without saying that these teams of publishers can no longer sell enough copies of their publications to make a decent living and will cease to exist.

The next reason why I reject the idea of embroidery books and magazines in digital format is because for me, personally, I want the real thing in my hand.

When it comes to novels and other books that are ‘just words’, my Kindle is my favourite device. In fact, I would go as far as to say that it might be the best gadget that I have acquired in recent years. I read before I go to sleep every night and when I’m travelling, reading is the treat that I give to myself in order to endure long haul flights and interminable waiting at airports. I can take all the books that I might want to read on a trip in one handy little device that fits in my bag and I whip it out the moment I am seated on an aircraft, or in an airport lounge. The same goes for my iPad. Quite apart from sending and receiving emails, I read the ‘newspapers’ on this little gadget before I get out of bed every morning. I use it as my telephone directory, my dictionary and my encyclopaedia. It’s also meant that I can live a relatively paper-free life. Documents that I need to refer to often are not printed. They are stored on my tablet and referred to from there. It’s always on, always connected and constantly in use.

But not for embroidery books or magazines. I have bought precisely one digital embroidery book and subscribed only once to a digital embroidery magazine. In each instance, I didn’t go back for more choosing, instead, to purchase the real thing. It’s just not the same when its on a screen. It needs to be on paper, not shining out from a screen that decides to switch itself off all too regularly. I think that, even those who have chosen to go completely digital, would agree with me if they tried it, instead of just thinking about it. Yes, it’s slightly cheaper in digital format but it’s not the same and I am always prepared to pay the extra to have the hard copy shipped to me.

The proliferation of digital publishing coupled with the state of the world’s economies means that times are tough for publishers of magazines and books, particularly if their subject is as 'niche’ as embroidery. Fabulous magazines have disappeared off the shelves, never to return. They are the victims of the fallout caused by the adjustment to the internet. I suppose there has to be an adjustment but I find it rather sad that these publications had to go for that to happen and I'm not sure that there is yet anything that has proven to be a suitable replacement.

One that remains, for now, is Inspirations Magazine. Probably because they have always been, for me, the best of the bunch. On Friday, however, they sent out a call for help. If they don’t manage to increase their subscriptions in the near future they, too, will go the way of the others. And we can’t let this happen.

I’m not a person who supports lost causes and I don’t believe that saving Inspirations Magazine falls into that category. It is worth saving not only for us but also for future embroiderers. If that magazine were no longer available to me, I would be very sad. It’s always a feast for the eyes, quite apart from the information it provides. The peripheral events too. Beating Around The Bush embroidery convention, needlework cruises, newsletters that keep us up to date on new products. If the magazine goes, those will too and it’s hard to imagine how much poorer we will be.

If you agree with what I’ve said in the previous paragraph and you are in a position to subscribe, or to give a gift subscription to someone special, get your credit card out of that dark place in your wallet and go to http://inspirationsmagazine.com.au/subscriptions/. Click on all the right buttons and help to give Inspirations Magazine the power to continue publishing. It’s something worth fighting for.

Bopha It With Wire

It suddenly seems that I have finished just about everything that I have to finish before I go off and pack my suitcases to fly over to Brisbane, Australia for Koala Conventions. I’m not sure how that’s possible and I fear that I’m suddenly going to remember that there is a whole body of work that I have to get through, but maybe not. Even if that is the case, I am nevertheless going to take some time to post on this blog.

Yesterday I received stock of my new book, Crewel Intentions, and we have been able to send out the first orders. It’s always an exciting time, to see it in print and to see Darren taking all of those parcels off to the post office – because people have actually ordered it, which means they want it. It’s a gratifying end to two years of hard work. But, at the same time, I am lucky to have the most fabulous publishers who take my ramblings on a memory stick and turn them into a work of art. It’s an ongoing friendly argument that I have with Metz Press who are always humble and will tell me every time that it’s the content that counts. I do know, though, that without their magic touch it would all be a bit mediocre and have very little outward appeal. No matter how good the content may or may not be.

But onto what I was thinking about this morning. The irritating things people say. Deliciously irritating pronouncements in every sphere of our lives, but oh so many of them, so I’m going to stick to embroidery pronouncements for the purposes of this post. Aside from mentioning my favourite irritating sentence about copyright (“But it’s so complicated.” It isn’t. Don’t copy. That’s not difficult, is it?), the most irritating of the lot is:

“It’s all very well to break the rules, but you must at least know them before you can break them”.

Imagine for a moment that you are woman born in the 16th, 17th, 18th century (it doesn’t matter which) and that you are adept with a needle and thread. Rather like you are in the 21st century, happy to sit for hours playing nicely, you’re passionate and you’re artistic. You’re not creating grand works of art, just embellishing your linen or your clothing. There is not a store of reference books out there as in the modern world so, having learnt techniques from your Grandmother or your Mother, you build on that.

You play with knots and loops, straight stitches and weaves. You go over and under, out and through, making different combinations and in doing so, keep yourself interested and inspired. Every now and then you might combine a few things that make up something that is truly inventive and inspiring to others. Your neighbour sees it and asks you to show her how. So you do, because you’re a woman and you share things. You don’t immedately run off to a patent office. That’s a man thing.

But back to your neighbour. Her best friend sees your little stitch combination, likes it and wants to do something similar, so your neighbour shows her. And so it goes on, until the whole community is doing it. Nobody knows who originally thought of it, and it doesn’t matter. It isn’t important. What is worth noting though, is that this is how regional styles would have developed. Combine this inventiveness with the fabric available in a time and place, the (much smaller) variety of yarns, the types of objects that were being embellished and you come out with your hardanger, your hedebo, your schwalm and so on.

Because travel was difficult, these stitch artists didn’t move around much. They spent their entire lives in one village and that is why, historically, many techniques can be pinpointed to a specific region or town. If they had travelled, all of these styles would have far more in common than they do. In fact, where an influence has crept in from somewhere else, the person who travelled and spread that influence is very often named and documented.

I don’t know when it happened, I suspect around the beginning of the 20th century, much of that evolution stalled. Researchers started documenting things and once a regional style was written about, it became set in stone. Those were the “rules” and they were enthusiastically adopted by people who like to form committees and become chairpersons. Thereafter, heaven help anyone who had a mind of her own and thought that she might like to inject a little of her own personality into her work. Or to combine her hardanger with a little bit of, oh who cares, pulled work. It didn’t matter if her finished product was beautiful, a masterpiece. It was wrong. It broke the rules and that was that.

If you want to recreate the embroideries from history, the rules will work for you but if you want to be inventive, innovative and a small cog in the evolution of hand embroidery, they are a pernicious thing and, sadly, they endure. They really do, despite what people claim. One of the reviews written – only two years ago - about my book Crewel Twists said something along the lines of “I have always admired crewel embroidery but was told I could only do it with wool, and I am allergic to wool, so have never done it. Now I can, because this book uses stranded cotton.” Now isn’t that sad? A whole genre of embroidery, one that to my mind is the most enjoyable of the lot, excluded from a person’s stitching pleasure because of the “rules”. That it took a short, plump, foul-mouthed South African author, one always covered in dog hair, to tell this reviewer that she could use something other than wool. I do hope that stitcher is now having a ball, using any kind of yarn that she chooses to create crewel or Jacobean shapes.

We live in rather a lawless society with a rather inept administration here on the tip of Africa and for that I am grateful. I suspect you have just gulped and asked yourself why I would be so stupid as to consider myself lucky to live in a place where the likelihood of being a victim of crime is so high, or a region where it is more difficult to get things done to one’s satisfaction. I’m going to tell you why.

It means that I have to think. I have to be guided by my own ethics, my own rules, not someone else’s idea of how I should behave. I have to find a way of coming by the things I need to do what I want to do. And if I can’t get those things, I have to find an alternative. Or invent one. I grew up on a farm in central Africa where it was usually impossible to purchase spare parts for farm implements on the one hand, and household appliances on the other. So, if something was broken and you couldn’t purchase a spare part, or didn’t have the time to wait for one to come from abroad, you would “bopha it with wire” (bopha is a Zulu word common to many African languages that means bind, tie together, etc.). It usually worked but, more importantly, it meant that we all had a mindset that said you can always find a way, albeit often an alternative one, to achieve an end. And that’s why I consider myself lucky.

It didn’t matter what the manufacturers instructions were, you couldn’t follow them because you didn’t have the wherewithal, so you made up your own rules. “Bopha it with wire” is a technique that I apply to my embroidery. I know what I want to create and I find a way to do it, whether it fits in with anachronistic rules or not. I bopha it with wire.

Which is why I find that aforementioned sentence so irritating. You don’t have to know the rules before you can break them. No. All you need to know is the techniques and once you know them, build on them, go mad, have fun, be creative and invent what you want to invent. In other words, bopha it with wire and continue the evolution of hand embroidery. Because it has stalled.

And now, off to pack my suitcase. Looking forward to meeting up with all you lovely Australians again next week.

Crewel Intentions is almost here....

It’s almost here. The ship bringing the South African edition of my new book docked in Cape Town on Monday and as soon as it has landed in the warehouse, boxes of books will be sent up to me. I hope to receive them by the end of next week.

This is what it looks like, and if you go back to my January post, you can see what’s inside it.

It doesn’t matter how many books or articles one writes, it’s always exciting to see it in print and so, we decided that a brand new website was in order. Aside from any celebratory reasons, the present website has been too complicated and customers have often had problems registering and shopping.

My son, known to many of you as Dude, is one of our local experts in this field. He has written a new website from scratch, coding it to my specific instructions. Those instructions being that it should be user friendly. That our customers are not teenage boys who know how to hack into systems that I dare not mention here, in case I am tagged by, say, the military. It will go live tomorrow, or the next day, and existing customers may receive an email asking them to update their details. This so that you will be able to shop with ease. Not just for the new book, but also for all the packs that you will need to complete the projects.

It is entirely possible that problems can still occur, but we will be on alert asking you to bear with us while they are ironed out. We’re pretty smart down here on the tip of Africa and we get it right, but if we don’t sometimes, it’s not as if we are in the business of saving lives or taking care of someone’s life savings. It’s just embroidery and that does not constitute a medical or other emergency.

In the past we didn’t ask you to pay, instead sending you an invoice or Paypal notification. That will change as the website has been written to accommodate alerts to us if stock levels are low. It will calculate postage and ask you to pay either through Payfast, which will accommodate EFT for South African customers, or through Paypal for international customers. Please be assured that we have taken security very seriously, with both of these payment platforms being as secure as anything ever can be.

So, as soon as it is live, South African customers will be able to order the new book and the packs. Customers in the rest of the world will need to order the book through whatever channels you usually use – Amazon, Book Depository, Fishpond, etc. and of course, your local booksellers or needlework shop. I expect the books to be available to you from the end of this month. Packs can be ordered from our website. They’re all packed, ready and waiting for you.

On a very different note, I would like to apologise to anyone who has experienced glitches with their orders in the last few months. It is only one or two of you and it’s because for the better part of six months I have not had my eye on the ball as well as I should have. I’ve had a ten year shoulder niggle that finally got to the point where I was forced to do something about it after hurting it again in December. The comforting cortisone injection that usually did the trick had lost it’s zing and I had surgery in March. I have gained a new respect for anyone who goes through anything that involves cutting into the bone. In future I will be able to say, “I feel your pain” and really mean it.

Constant low-grade pain is exhausting and, if I’m to be completely honest, there were times when I just didn’t care what was going on in my studio. I sat around looking grim, feeling sorry for myself and I let Darren just get on with it. He really stepped up to the plate and has done a marvelous job, but there is too much for one person to cope with on their own and the odd thing slipped through.

I am now back up running, ready for everything that goes with the new book, the travel abroad and whatever else comes along. Even bought myself a new set of suitcases with four wheels, instead of two, so that I can push, not pull. I still can’t get my left arm around to the back to do up my most necessary piece of underwear, but have solved that by doing up the hooks first, stepping into it as if it were a pair of trousers, then pulling it all the way up. My family laugh at me, but it works! And I’m sure they were tired of being asked to do up the hooks even if, bless them, they never complained. Well, my husband didn’t. If I was forced to ask my son he did it uncomplainingly, but with very long arms.

The main thing is, the light has started shining at the end of the tunnel and I am back to full speed in the important areas.

Little Flowers........

It is so easy, as an embroiderer, to get caught up in only what one has around oneself. It may be the work being done by the ladies that are attending either your own class, or the same class as you. Maybe it is what you see at the Guild meetings that you attend or what is published in the books and magazines that you (and everyone else in your circle) are buying. What is going on in your life, embroidery-wise, is the same as everyone else in your town. Which is why I consider myself fortunate. I do embroidery-travel to many parts of the world, usually with my friend and fellow embroidery artist, Di van Niekerk

Don’t for one minute think that it is glamorous. It isn’t. There is nothing less seductive than two grubby middle-aged women pulling heavy suitcases around Dubai airport at six in the morning. Crumpled individuals, with yesterday’s teeth, who have walked off a cramped overnight flight, have to find their onward connection, have no idea where to go and mostly stand around looking confused. This is the picture I get in my mind when acquaintances and friends, who know that I travel a lot, suggest that I am a member of the jet-set. Oh please! But, after the long-haul we land at a destination where we meet talented artists. Innovative master embroiderers who are inspired by what is going on in their own environment – always so different to our own.

On a trip to Russia in 2012 we met Marina Zherdeva, a talented silk ribbon artist. Her innovative works needed to be looked at again and again, because each time you looked, you saw another clever little thing that she had done. And now, as a result of their meeting up, Marina and Di van Niekerk have co-written a scrumptious book called “Little Flowers”.

It is so appealing. Each of the eight projects is small – maximum 15 x 15 cm – but the innovation, the new techniques, the interesting stitches in each of the projects is immense.

Di’s books have always included step-by-step photographs and Little Flowers is no different.

Along with a comprehensive stitch gallery at the back of the book,

each step of each project is, not only described in detail, but is accompanied by a clear colour photo.

I was privileged to have been asked to proof read this book. Part of the proof reading process involves making sure that the instructions make sense. Having gone through every word and chapter more than once, I can tell you with absolute certainty that it is easy to understand.

The first four designs in the book were designed and stitched by Marina, whilst those in the second half are Di’s work. It is truly an international colaboration with its roots at opposite ends of the world.

The book uses Di’s hand painted ribbons throughout. The charm of these ribbons is that they are, in a sense, self-shading. This adds depth and interest to each flower, fruit or leaf.

For South African stitchers, the Metz Press edition will be available from Di van Niekerk’s website within days. It will also, in the near future, be available on Kalahari and Loot. For stitchers in other parts of the world, the Search Press edition will be available on Amazon, the Book Depository and the websites in your country that carry craft books. It will also be available at selected needlework stores.

Whilst each design is accompanied by a line drawing that you can trace onto fabric, if you are unsure of how to do this or would prefer a pre-printed panel, these are available on Di’s website. Each panel is screen-printed on Dupion silk, backed by cotton voile and overlocked around the edges. Ready for you to put into your hoop and start without any of the preparation fuss.

The hand-painted ribbons used throughout the book are also available on Di’s website, along with the threads, additional fibres and beads.

From the moment I received the first proof of this book, I knew that its charm lay in the fact that the projects are small and do-able with techniques that are very, very clever. Along with normal ribbon stitches, it shows you how to manipulate your silk ribbon to create three-dimensional flowers that look realistic and natural. It is a book for everyone from the beginner to the more accomplished stitcher.

If you are lucky enough to be attending Beating Around The Bush in Adelaide, Australia later this year, Di will be teaching the “Wild Roses and Pink Blossoms” on the 29th and 30th of September.

On the 2nd and 3rd of October, she will be teaching the “Chamomile” design pictured above

Treat yourself. It’s a beautiful book.