Deb came for a visit over half term. As we all know, Deb is
renowned for her challenges, but this time it was me in the driving seat. At
school, we were planning a STEM week (science, technology, engineering and
maths), and I had to come up with a tessellation and transformation activity,
that would be suitable for all ages and abilities, from suck-it-and-sneeze-on-it
4 year olds to the hard-to-please 11 year olds. My inspiration came from the
yellow patchwork quilt hanging in the living room, and the Perfect Pattern game
was devised.
Many patchwork patterns derive from right angle triangles,
particularly in blocks of 16 squares. I decided to keep it simple for the kids,
and made the squares for them, divided into two triangles. Deb was roped in to
aid production, and we soon had an efficient system of slicing, gluing and
laminating, incidentally introducing Deb to the joy of the rotary cutter.
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In full triangle production. Note the healthy snacks! |
With a good selection of triangles, we settled down to
trying out game rules, and found many ways of making patterns, the aim being to
get a pattern with horizontal and vertical symmetry. Of course, just messing
about with the pieces was fun too.
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Making perfect patterns with the patchwork cards. |
The patterned sides of the playing pieces were made from
card. Deb and I had a walk down to the great little craft shop in Staveley
(Time2Craft) to buy it, and were unaccountably sucked in to the wool section
next door, which was full of delights, including colourful tinsel wool. I
announced to Deb that a ball would be purchased and transformed into small
glittery owls, to sell at the school Christmas Fair. (The school fair is a
great excuse to make bits of nonsense without them hanging round to annoy you afterwards.) Back home, we experimented with less demanding wools before trying out the tinsel. Deb producing a sparkly snowman in white, sewing the tiny pompoms onto his face
with invisible thread and heroic determination. It turned out to be impossible
to crochet the tinsel thread, but it knitted up quite easily and several owls
have so far been produced. Unfortunately, the long strands refused to accept
pieces glued on, even after holding bits in place till the fingers lost all feeling.
Invisible thread to the rescue – whatever did we do without it?
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Tinselly owls and Deb's jolly snowman |
While Deb was here, we also had a trip to Hobbycraft, and,
for the first time, saw a tambour needle for sale. I fancied trying one; after
all, how difficult could it be? I spent the afternoon making holes in fabric
while the thread languished on the back, refusing to be caught by the tiny
hook. Deb retreated to the loft to sort her stuff, suggesting that YouTube was
my only hope. I found an instructional video and put it on repeat. Eventually a wobbly line of chain stitch
emerged. The good thing about the tambour needle is that, if you make a
mistake, it is very easy to undo. The bad thing is, even if you haven’t made a
mistake, it is very easy to undo. In fact, when you have just
done a perfect line of evenly spaced chain stitch and you are standing up proudly
to show it off, it is distressingly easy to undo
Never one to give up (especially having spent money on the
thing), I have persevered on a test piece, which has turned out rather jazzy,
because I tried out every type and thickness of thread I have. It’s good for
very fine threads, and also metallic threads that take a lot of punishment when
they are constantly pulled through the fabric by needle. My skill level is
still firmly at beginner though – there won’t be any chain stitched fripperies
at the Christmas Fair this year.
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The tambour needle and my wobbly, lumpy, but colourful chain stitch, with a hopeful smiley face drawn in the corner for reasons unknown. |