Other things have been getting in the way recently, so progress has been slow on my white quilt, and making in general. Not rushing has helped me plan how I'd like the quilt to look though, and it's getting less white each time I see it in my head–maybe, this is the thinking equivalent of the more you handle something, the dirtier it gets? I have some lovely concrete* coloured linen which I think will work well in between the two large bands of patchwork and the row of, well I'm not sure exactly what you'd call it—fabric manipulation, spliced together stitchy doodlings?
|More squares, |
this time lace ones,
to add to the above patchwork
I won't use batting for this quilt, it would make it too bulky. Besides, batting would just poke through the lace and any holes in bits of broderie anglaise or the scraps of openwork borders that once belonged to napkins, table cloths, and old bed linen. Instead, I'll simply have a layer of muslin between the top and backing. The backing will still be made up of pyjammas and nighties though, so they should provide plenty of warmth, and if I keep the pockets, maybe they'll also provide hiding places for midnight feasts.
*Now, I realise concrete isn't to everyone's taste, but I absolutely love it–the colour, the texture, the endless possibilities it offers. Best of all, it's not green or mirrored glass! Concrete is a bond (shameful pun) I share with Patrick. One of our favourite places is London's south bank: he gets to admire the Royal Festival Hall, I get to drool over the slabs of concrete that make up the National Theatre. For some reason, they always remind of a pile of Dougal's sugar lumps, although I'm not sure this is what the brutalist architect Denys Lasdun had in mind when he designed it, unless of course he was secretly a fan of the Magic Roundabout.