Pins and needles

In a foolhardy moment some weeks ago I confidently declared to Lachlan that it would be no problem to recover the free sofa a friend of a friend (and as it turns out a cousin of another friend) had kindly donated – white being considered overly high risk for a young man with a dog. It turned out to be quite the endeavour. Making the pattern was half the battle. This entailed much measuring, head scratching and grovelling on the floor. Not being 100% sure how the bits would fit together, phase 2 involved the making of a toile from old curtain lining and retrofitting this on top of the old loose cover. This seemed to have worked so I took a deep breath and cut the pieces out from the only roll of fabric that seemed to be both long enough and not a banned colour (green). There followed an interim fitting in situ, when I grovelled around on all fours in Lachlan’s house with a mouth full of pins clutching my tailor’s chalk, tweaking an inside out version of the top half draped over the sofa. This led to the discovery that the bottom cushions were in fact attached to the base in a rather odd way, so a further rejig as required. Mum was coopted to make miles of piping whilst I tried to work out how to attach the base to the top (which was inexplicably not nearly as easy as you might think). The sewing machine buzzed and rattled (like a buzz saw in the yard…) and at one point it began to cough in a rather sickly manner (I fixed this with spray on furniture polish – which is my go to for emergency repairs when, as is usually the case, we have no WD40. It also works wonders on rusty secateurs). Anyway, after a significant amount of cursing, ripping out and reattaching, four audio books, a giant bag of cheesy wotsits and a huge bar of chocolate, the dratted thing was delivered on Friday (all bar two cushions). Thankfully it fitted and a well earned libation was enjoyed in the pub next door. Feeling on a roll (and with a few hours of audio book left), I finished the last two cushions on Saturday and knocked up four table mats whilst I waited to see if the third evil twin was captured (yes the last audio book was on the silly side…). The monograms might be a bit much…Anyway, it’s curtains next, and that’s got to be easier…

With most of my free time and mental bandwidth occupied in working out which way up Part A needed to be before attaching it to Part B, I was not out in the garden too much in the last couple of weeks. Sanity and vitamin D levels were, however, preserved by walking Lyra around our usual haunts, enjoying the Hirsel daffodils and coveting the quince at the back of the walled garden. It’s been gloriously sunny and the new calves are starting to explore, sneaking away from their mothers in pairs, daring each other to go just a little further each time. Ivor the bull has been moved into the back field, where he is waiting patiently for the bluebells to chime out the commencement of the summer of love (after the calves are weaned and their mums have had a slight breather..). Looking for Matthew the permacygnet on the loch the other morning, we were dumfounded to see that there were two of him (or her). Is it Matthew and Matilda then? Have we been cheerily waving at the wrong one half the time? Either way, they are both still quite grey and fluffy… Around the back of the lake the first of the blackthorn has burst into airy white lace and scarlet peacock butterflies flit between the delicately scented clumps of primroses which have sprung up all along the track. Down in the woods it is garlic season. As the sun hits the bright green carpet there’s a distinct air of pizza.

I’m still somewhat hirpled (the last x-ray suggested my hip may be knackered – off to see a consultant next week) so in the main we’ve not ventured too far. However, I have been religiously keeping up the physio exercises and, to work off a rather splendid afternoon tea at the Roxburgh with mum on Thursday, on Friday we struck out for the riverside. It was painful, but not excruciating so I counted that as a win! Not so many swans out on the river (and mostly they seemed very juvenile) but several pairs of oyster catchers settling on improbable rocks (they are hopeless at picking good nesting sites), a cormorant battling against the wind and a solitary heron. It’s too exposed there for many flowers yet, but I caught the first of the cuckoo flowers. Lyra enjoyed the wind and positively cantered round. I limped gamely along, walking in the physio approved manner when I remembered. After the bionic hip is installed doubtless I shall be in demand for action movies…