Hello all you lovely people!
I am currently on my writer’s residency with The Hosking Houses Trust near Stratford Upon Avon, and am really enjoying the opportunity of working full-time on ‘Sew on the Go’ which you have all been kind enough to support. As a thankyou, I wanted to share an exclusive extract. Sent with special love to my friend Melissa and her three fabulous daughters, Olivia, Jo-Jo and Solveig.
THANKYOU ALL for you continued support. We are getting so close! A very generous pledge of £1000 boosted the crowdfunder enormously last week and we are now at 75%. If you can persuade even ONE more friend to pledge £10 (and possibly win a wonderful handmade brooch as well!) then we’d almost be there! I sense victory - but don’t want to count my chickens etc etc...so ...fingers crossed!
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An exclusive extract from Sew on the Go by Mary Jane Baxter - where the author embarks on her journey around Europe in the Mobile Makery aka Bambi
I set off from London on St George’s Day, the 23rd April 2015. Over the last few weeks I’d found a friend to rent my flat, got the van fully serviced, paid for breakdown cover and even sourced a few spare parts, just in case I found myself stuck up a mountain with a broken Bambi. Armed with a map of Europe, my ‘Wild Swimming France’ book, a sat nav, a smart phone and an i-pad, I had sketched out a rough itinerary for my journey. However, I also wanted to give myself the opportunity to amble and take the ‘road less travelled’. Having spent most of my career in an industry that’s addicted to adrenalin and works to constant deadlines, I needed a break from the depressing daily dose of despair that relentless bad news can bring. I vowed not to look at the papers, scan on-line stories, or tune into the radio for the duration of my trip.
As Bambi eagerly revved up the ramp onto the boat at Dover I felt a tremendous sense of freedom and potential. I thought of my colleagues back in the BBC newsroom, up against the clock as they endeavoured to wrestle the latest story into submission in time for the bulletin. I breathed a huge sigh of relief that I was no longer part of it. I nudged Bambi up along the queue of small lorries and campervans, tightly packed side by side in the steel hull of the ferry. Then I locked the door, grabbed myself a coffee and found a cosy spot behind a window. I just wanted to sit and watch the land slip away and take a few deep breaths. I really was doing this!
The upper deck was full of over-excited teenagers heading for France – gangly giggling girls, spotty schoolboy showoffs, teachers already getting tetchy. Some of these kids would be away from home for the first time and I remembered my own 14-year-old self full of nervous anticipation as I headed to Normandy with my classmates. It was my first trip abroad and as part of the preparation I’d been taken on a shopping trip by my Mum to buy some new clothes especially for the occasion. I thought I cut a real dash in the mint-green ensemble that I wore for my maiden voyage – a matching jacket and trousers. The trip was memorable for two other reasons, both perhaps an indication of the person I would become. First up - the Bayeux Tapestry. Over 9 centuries old and more than 70 metres long. I could hardly comprehend its meticulous making. I was fascinated. I imagined it being embroidered by a group of well-dressed women, poring over the canvas, skilled and serious. It was my first real brush with communal creativity. Secondly (and rather less intellectually) I spent nearly all of my French pocket money on a pair of white pedal pushers. They seemed so exotic that even though they were slightly on the small side, I splashed all my cash in one thrilling go. The fabulous sensation of wearing something out of the ordinary has never left me, and I’ve been a sucker for cutting a (rather unusual) dash ever since.
On this particular trip though I wasn’t bound for Bayeux or a pair of too-tight pedal pushers, but for Lille, where I was staying for the first few nights with Melissa, a friend I’d known since childhood who’d lived in France for many years. We shared a passion for ‘brocantes’ or second-hand markets, and Lille has one of the biggest in Europe. Held on the first weekend of September every year, much of the city centre is cordoned off to make way for the hundreds of stalls and hoards of visitors all searching for that unique and elusive vintage bargain. Although I wasn’t there at the right time of year for Lille’s ‘grande braderie’, I knew that Melissa and I would track down a second hand sale of some description - perhaps a ‘vide-grenier’ the literal translation for which is ‘empty attic’. These events are held all over France and are the perfect opportunity for everyone to have a real clear-out. We all know that one person’s trash is another person’s treasure, and vides-greniers provide a wonderful source of desirable junk and even antiques at knock down prices. Fortunately Melissa’s three young daughters Olivia, Josephine and Solveig shared our enthusiasm for attractive tat and so we were able to bribe them to join us by setting them the goal of finding something special for 2 euros each.
To be continued!