I digress. When I saw this raggy piece of cloth in Lincoln I was hooked. I touched it and felt its soft texture - worn thin by years and years of use and love.
I pulled it out and marvelled at the subtle shades of patchwork pieces. Parts of it had worn so thin the top layer had disintegrated...
to reveal another layer of lovely patchwork underneath. I hesitated to ask the price and when I did had to wait for the assistant to ring the manageress. I was saddened when I heard eighty and thought I would have to return it to the shelves of despair but decided to just check.
"Not eighty but eighteen! It's Victorian you see." I do indeed. Oh decisions - what on earth can I do with it. Useful or beautiful? It won't register as useful - its days of providing any useful function are long behind it. Beautiful? Well it was to me.
Reader I bought it. (You knew I was going to say that didn't you?)
It has some unspoilt parts so I've folded it and put it on the back of a chair and I stroke it as I walk past and think of the comfort it has no doubt provided in years gone by. Unfortunately our cat has rather taken to it (she's no respecter of my stuff!) so she's going to have to spend the rest of her life outdoors!
I also found these lovely little hand painted tea plates, jug and bowl. I don't even "do" tea but they also spoke to me.
As did the young lady in this picture. I'm easily pleased (especially at £2 for the china and £2 for the picture - and I rarely haggle.) I hate to think what might happen to these things if I didn't take them home and love them...
Love Wend
