Except I’m more like five something and I’m dressed like someone on a week off who’s in denial that the weather’s turned.
The vintage Simplicity is on hold til Saturday because, for once, I’m making something for someone else. I’m absolutely rubbish at keeping my own secrets so this is a bit of a self-imposed exercise in control. And it’s killing me.
I haven’t had this much fun for ages and I’m doing a lot of laughing to myself. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing but, til the weekend, I cannot reveal what’s on my sewing table (and floor and all over the flat). My lips are sealed.
For some reason I’ve got Rapper’s Delight playing in my head on loop while I wrestle with this project, which is no bad thing.