Catching Up

I think it’s time for a bit of catching up.

Between June 2014 and July 2015 I did five international and three domestic teaching trips. Living where we do, at the bottom of Africa, any international trip worth making involves a long haul flight that lasts at least 9 to 10 hours, and usually longer. Africa being well, Africa, there is less air traffic than you can expect in busier parts of the world. People fly less on both business and pleasure and this means there just isn’t a big choice when you’re booking flights.

Don’t think you can get a direct flight to Canada, for example. You can’t. You have to fly to Heathrow first. When you get there, they won’t let you out of the building because you have a South African passport and, unless you have got yourself an entry visa at great expense, you wait in the terminal. For as long as you have to. Because you come from a country that may hand out passports to people who aren’t genuine citizens. They do, of course. Our Home Affairs department is a hot-bed of corruption where you can get any document you want for the right amount of money, and those of us that just want to do a bit of honest travel have to suffer as a result.

Sometimes, though, a bit of wandering around a terminal can be interesting, if you keep your eyes open. It was at Heathrow, when I became a little peckish and went looking for something to eat, that I discovered the concept of ‘artisan’ food. Every eatery had something ‘artisan’ on the menu and, whilst I had heard of it, I had never really taken much notice of what it was, so I didn’t know what it meant.

But being no stranger to the digital world and Heathrow being efficiently wi-fied, I googled it. On my iPad. Isn’t technology cool? And how I giggled.

Put simply, it is food that is made ‘from scratch’ using ingredients that have come from within 150 km and have not been processed in any way. Like the food I make for supper every night. Like the food you make in your own kitchen. Did you know that you were so trendy, so chi-chi, so up to date? So silly, but such fun if you want to tease the image conscious.

Or even those that are not too fussed about image. A week or two after I got home my husband and son decided to go off to a church fete, because they wanted to stock up on homemade marmalade, pickles and jam (the mother in this house does not do that kind of cooking). They came home laden with boxes filled with all sorts of bottles, each a delicacy lovingly made by some church member in her kitchen at home. Artisan food. They just rolled their eyes when I pointed that out.

Like all things though, it is a little pernicious. It was my turn to roll my eyes a few weeks later when I received a newsletter telling me all about ‘artisan’ embroidery.

If you look up the word artisan it is, first and foremost, a noun. Not an adjective. It means a worker in a skilled trade, especially one that involves making things by hand. Hand embroidery is done by artisans. Finished, end of story, no need to call it anything else. Unless, by using that term, it raises its profile and creates interest in the art, in which case I may agree to eat my words.

But enough about the trendy and the silly. I’m home in the real world now, I’m stitching up a storm and I’ve tidied up my studio. We’ve almost finished revamping the website, getting all the correct stock numbers entered, the prices right and nothing left out. Some prices have even gone down a bit because our DMC threads are costing us less than they were.

And there are some new products.

The first one is a needle lace techniques book.

For a while I’ve known that I needed to sift out all of the needle lace techniques that can be used in embroidery, put them together in one place and, finally, I got around to doing just that. The book includes 25 ‘stitches’ and an additional 20 combinations or extras, like picots and the like. So 45 different techniques and ideas, all well illustrated with diagrams and point by point instructions, put together in a wire-bound book so that the pages can be folded back and not damaged while you are using it. The techniques are prefaced with a chapter on how to use the book and, also, basic things that you need to know about using needle lace techniques as embroidery stitches. You can find that book here.

I have all but finished a similar book that puts all the needle weaving techniques together in one publication and as soon as it is printed and available, I will post that fact on this blog.

If you thought I was just writing things, you would be wrong. I’ve been doing a lot of stitching too.

There is a new Jacobean design available with the inspiring name of JAC 24. Yup, just a code number, all this travel has made me tired and dulled my brain. It uses needle lace and needle weaving techniques as well as embroidery and bead embroidery stitches. Loosely based on the Mandala idea, I intend to mount it in a pole screen and place it near my fire place. For now, it still has to do its world tour. I will be teaching it at Beating Around The Bush in Adelaide, Australia during late September/early October next year. I’m a bit slim on dates here, but I do know that the brochures are not out yet and I’m not sure that it’s on the internet either. I think the details will all be published early next year.

Also having to do a world tour before it is mounted is JAC 25. I’ve been a bit more inspired here and called it Tumbleweeds 1 and it will be part of a set that will include 2 and 3. I will also be teaching that one at Beating Around The Bush. I’m having a bit of fun with this set of three, playing with combinations of needle lace stitches, inserting silk ribbon and cords, generally trying to take the idea of using lace in Jacobean embroidery a step further than I have previously done.

I’ve completed the second one of the set, but have not yet got it kitted. It takes a bit of time to get to that point what with screen printing, photography, notes and so on. When it’s done, it will appear quietly on the website in the Jacobean section, as will the third one of the set, which I am still busy stitching. Hours and hours of playing with dirty dogs at my feet.

Yes dirty. I had always thought Boxers were self-cleaning until I got Neville. He is the dirtiest dog on the planet because he loves to play and middle-age hasn’t slowed him down at all. It doesn’t help that we are into the rainy season now, so there is lots and lots of mud – because we’re revamping the back garden and the new grass is taking its time to grow back. His sidekick, Brenda, is the naughtiest Boxer in South Africa and that exacerbates the problem. We do, however, have plans to calm her down. She’s now old enough to become a mother and as soon as her hormones oblige, it is our intention that the two of them will make lovely, lovely babies. Pass on Neville’s unique temperament. We’re having to be very patient, though, because she was on contraceptive injections so that she didn’t come into season and they are taking far too long to wear off. If there’s no sign of it happening in the next few months we will have to consult the veterinary reproductive specialist up the hill.

In the meantime, they are doing good deeds. They have become blood donors. It gives me such a warm feeling to know that each of their donations can potentially save four dogs’ lives every three months. I was inspired to write all about it and you can read that article at superdogs.co.za. Just click here. If you are similarly inspired, consider doing the same, wherever you are in the world.

And next time I post on this blog, I’ll tell you about the new book that I have written. The one that’s due out in early 2016.

A Goat Show

We have had our present government for exactly 21 years (yesterday was a public holiday that celebrated that fact). In 1994, many predicted that it would take 20 years for our infrastructure to break down. Some of us chose to be optimistic and, unfortunately, our optimism has not been rewarded. It has taken almost exactly twenty years.

In the last few months we have purchased a petrol generator so that we can continue to work, cook and have electric light during our, usually daily, two-hour power cuts. Sometimes we have two two-hour power cuts in a day. In addition to the generator, we have installed two one thousand-litre reserve water tanks and are also the proud owners of a twenty-five litre refillable dispenser of purified water for drinking, and which has pride of place next door to the hob on one of our kitchen counters. I’m currently looking into a solar-powered geyser so that we won’t ever have to endure cold showers and, also, inverters. So that if we can’t get petrol to run the generator we have that back up. All at huge expense, particular if you consider that we pay tax and our tax ought to ensure that these things are provided.

From our customers’ point of view, some of you have also been affected by the fact that the postal service is all but non-functional.

It started last year with industrial unrest, then it seemed to come right and we started using the post office again. That, as it turns out, was not a smart thing to do because unbeknown to us it was not functioning at full capacity. Parcels that should have taken two weeks to reach our customers overseas were getting stuck at the international mail hub at Johannesburg airport, and taking up to two months to reach their destination. In addition to that, it has come to light that South African Airways was refusing to take their freight because they hadn’t paid their bills for, who knows how long. At least ninety days. Then last week, their bank accounts were frozen as a result of a court order, because they owe a cell phone provider about fifty million.

So, all in all, not a happy story. My son has a name for it which I am not going to repeat here. It has to do with goat fornication.

But all is not lost. As is the story of Africa, when things break down all sorts of entrepreneurs and other clever people spring up with clever ideas and good service. Everything goes private and that’s how we are solving our shipping problems.

If you are in South Africa and are one of our domestic customers, the only option that you will find in the checkout section of your cart when you order from our website, is Aramex Couriers. If you live in one of the main centres you will get your parcel the next day. If you live in a smaller centre it may take 36 to 48 hours from when it leaves our studio. We feel confident that you will be happy to use this method because, living in South Africa, you know exactly what our problems are.

For our international customers, if your parcel is under 2 kg, you will have two options. The first is Postnet (I’ll talk about them later) and the second is Aramex Couriers. For anything over 2 kg, the only option available to you is Aramex Couriers. Your might ask how you will know what it weighs. You don’t have to worry about that. The website calculates it for you and Postnet disappears from the options the moment it goes above 2 kg.

And now, to explain what these shipping options are.

Aramex Couriers is a worldwide courier, and works in the same way as courier companies whose names might be familiar to you. The reason why we use them is because their rates are the best out there and, also, because they have a local office which provides us with very good service. We are based in a small city and most of the courier companies don’t have offices here. That can create problems, so it’s better to use a company with an office in town. And whenever the manager pays me a courtesy call, she just loves my dogs. That’s a big plus for Aramex! Like all courier companies, though, international customers will probably have to pay handling costs at destination. This would include customs duty, which you would probably pay anyway. If you choose Aramex as a shipping option, you must give us a physical address (as opposed to a post office box number), your telephone number and your postal code.

Now to Postnet. Postnet has been operating as, amongst other things, a private post office for a number of years. At least a decade, but probably more. When the South African post office was operating as it should, we didn’t use them as we had no need to. Earlier this month, however, when we decided that we would no longer darken the door of any post office branch anywhere, I went to see them because, although we have the option of using couriers, it’s expensive for our lighter parcels and we needed something closer to normal postal rates. I came away from my meeting with our local branch feeling positive, at last.

They have nothing to do with the post office at all. Their international mail goes to one central point in Johannesburg, from where it is sent to London. From London they use the services of Royal Mail or Global Mail to distribute the parcels to wherever they need to go in the world. All of this for only a slightly more expensive (15%) rate than conventional postal rates. It also means that, whereas parcels may have previously got to their destinations in about two weeks, it is likely to take a few days longer. Slightly slower and slightly more expensive, but from my point of view, peace of mind is priceless, particularly after what we have experienced over the last seven months or so.

If your parcel weighs less than 2 kg, but may be close to that weight, it is worth checking on both options. Very often at about 1.5 kg, depending on where it is going in the world, the Aramex rate works out cheaper than the Postnet rate. How to check, you may ask?

Once you have ordered what you want to order, sign in and make sure that we have your correct delivery address. #You can do that by clicking on ‘my account’ then on ‘shipping options’ and click ‘save’ once you have entered your correct address.# Go to ‘view cart’

Once you have reviewed your order, click ‘proceed’. You will be taken to a page that, at first glance, looks like you are only offered the Aramex option. Take a look at the charge under Shipping, take note of what it is and then click on the white box (with the arrow) above that and choose Postnet. If Postnet is not available it means that your parcel is over 2 kg. If it is available, the shipping charge will appear in the same line of the invoice below that, and you can decide which one you want to use at that point, bearing in mind handling charges for couriers (not Postnet) on your end. Depending on what option you have chosen, you might need to change your delivery address, which you can do before proceeding, by repeating # to # above.

So, I think we might have solved our shipping problems, with not a lot more expense. We are keeping an eye on it and hope that we won’t have to change again.

I am grateful to all of the customers that have been so very reasonable during this transition period and for those that haven’t, we have understood your frustration.

Over the years I have heard complaints about all sorts of postal services – Royal Mail, USPS, Canada, wherever – and I think to myself ‘you haven’t got a clue’. If you live in a country where everything works and, of course, you take it for granted that it will work, it is just not possible to understand the goat show (that’s the polite version of what my son calls it, see above) that we’re dealing with here. I don’t expect you to understand it, but please be assured we do our best to make sure that you get what you have ordered. And if you don’t, we send it to you again at our own expense. Whatever happens, you will always get it. Maybe late, but not ever never.

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.