I do, however, enjoy my own company and found myself unexpectedly, luxuriously, alone in hotel rooms for the two creative retreats that I have attended over the last two weeks.

The days and evenings were busy and sociable; lovely groups of new friends spent time together stitching, chatting, eating and shopping. Nightfall was a different matter. On the second week in particular, the temperatures hit an all-new high and my cosy little room high in the eaves was stifling despite the open windows and electric fan. Sleep was elusive until the very wee hours and so there was a lot of time to lay in the dark and think.

Setting down a slightly warm mobile phone one evening after another late-night call overseas, I spied the notification that my average daily screen time for the previous week was a whopping seven hours. It stopped me in my tracks. Seven hours staring at a tiny phone screen! What was especially worrying is that I had been on vacation.

Seven hours. That’s a reasonable night’s sleep or a regular day’s work at a full-time job. No wonder I was starting to feel irritated by the relentlessly pinging notifications: I was at the mercy of a small glowing rectangle of glass every day from 7am until midnight; weekdays and weekends.

It was right there that I realised that I had developed an unhealthy relationship with my phone and I had fallen out of love.

My workload and work hours have changed over the last 12 months. I have exciting new projects and trips to plan for, new designs to create, working with gorgeous creative souls all over the world; particularly Australia and the USA. Whilst I might have adapted my workload and work hours to suit these new plans, it seems that I have just been piling on the extra hours. It is easy to do when your work is your passion and you love everything about it!

My phone is my mini-office. I access all of my emails, texts and social media platforms on that device. It is invaluable to me.

I have found it convenient to access my emails throughout the day, typing out quick responses whilst waiting in line at the drive-through or when waiting for the kettle to boil. The problem is that this lack of discipline, on my part, has led to my downfall!

My anxious brain makes me feel guilty for reading a text, email or DM without responding straight away. Of course, when you reply to a message you often receive another swiftly in return, especially when you are happily chatting with friends and loved ones. Whilst joyful, it is time-consuming and before you know it you are in a vicious cycle of text messaging, doom scrolls and email. Holding several conversations which could have been held more pleasurably and efficiently over the occasional 30 minute phone call or a weekly coffee. None of which I feel I’ve had time for in recent months. (Ironically because of those SEVEN HOURS A DAY I have spent typing on my phone.)

The decision to break up with my phone was an easy one to make. Pages of journalling by lamplight as the sun came up revealed exactly what was making me feel overwhelmed and how I could easily tackle my issues.

A new shiny iphone appeared for my arrival home. I have added just one email to the mailbox which is a personal inbox that I use for writing and creative projects. The only apps I have downloaded are for listening to music and reading. I have not installed Instagram, Twitter or Facebook. I have given no one but my family the number.

I have new self-appointed working hours and my regular iphone is switched off at night and over the weekend. I am having a little digital detox and loving it.

This weekend saw the soft launch (!) of my new ‘analogue’ regime. My phone was left on the kitchen counter and I spent the entire weekend stitching, drawing, reading and writing. Yes, I was working, but I was doing the parts I really enjoy which, crucially, is the stuff that people expect most from me.

I spent quality time talking with my sister, niece and husband, and played with the dogs in the garden. The days felt longer and my mind was quieter. Without interruption from a mobile phone, the days even brought long periods of silence some of the time. That silence brought an easy calm to my day, helping me to breathe more deeply and think more clearly.

The weekend and, in fact, this week has been a bit of a reset for me. I know that I have been largely ‘incommunicado’ and I am grateful to my friends and community for allowing me this brief respite.

I have blocked out time when I allow myself to look at texts, emails and social media during the working day. When I do this more mindfully, I find that I am getting through things more efficiently, reading words more thoroughly and sending more thoughtful responses. It feels good, I feel productive and I feel in control.

A post like this would usually generate a little flurry of messages from troubled friends who are worried they might have annoyed me with texts and memes. Please don’t worry; of course no-one has. I feel that I just haven’t had the mental bandwidth for social interactions because I’ve been distracted by the things that Meta wants to draw my attention to, wasting my time doom scrolling on social media.

(I am secretly certain that at least two of those hours on my phone each day have been wasted watching AI videos of hamsters, kittens and puppies dancing.)

Friends, you might hear from me less frequently but it will be way more meaningful when we finally do manage to catch up - over coffee, lunch or even just a phone call.

And to those of you who recognise my silence as overwhelm or hyperfocus without taking it personally, patiently waiting for me to come out the other side without judging or berating me: thank you. I appreciate you more than you know.

Nicki x

^{Photo credit for the three portraits of me: Becky Kerr Photography.}

^{Cottage Journal pic of Jared, Ben and me: William Whittaker.}

The World Cup games, mostly aired late at night here in England, are helping. I am usually a late-to-bed, late-to-rise person but having started on ADHD medication over the last couple of months I am finding myself more active early in the morning and tired mid-evening. The football makes it easier to fold up my stitching, gather my things and head to the bedroom for an early night. I am not in the least bit interested in watching these matches, particularly in the early stages of the tournament, but happy for the entertaining updates from my husband when he eventually makes his way up to bed.

There is something so nostalgic about an early evening bedtime in the summer; slipping under a cool sheet with the windows open to better hear the dusk chorus and neighbours laughing around their barbecue next door. I leave the blinds up to enjoy the last of the daylight. For a short while, I feel seven again.

I have spent the morning out in the garden catching up on some journalling, making notes and capturing thoughts. This afternoon I will film for my Patreon channel and might even take nap. A quiet, considered, slow day at home.

Prioritising my health, both mental and physical this year, is slowly changing my life and I haven’t been sure whether to mention it here, in the public forum. I may talk about it more, I might not - I am undecided how much I’m ready to share.

Meanwhile, I am making To Do lists that I actually check off and dreaming up goals that I might actually manage to achieve. After years of stumbling towards my dreams rather than chasing them, this feels huge.

Our flight at 8:30am would’ve meant getting up in the early hours of the morning and having done that lots before I knew that the two of us would be tired and tetchy on the first day of our mini break. Notwithstanding bathroom privacy issues we had a good stay and arrived in Florence in time for lunch, well-rested and refreshed.

We used to take city breaks a lot when we first met, and worked regular hours for a bank, but those trips have fallen away. In fact, 18 years ago to the day had seen Drew propose to me at our favourite boutique hotel in the Marais district of Paris. Our short city breaks never quite follow the itinerary of other folk; we generally avoid all museums, monuments and ‘sights’ preferring to just wander the streets, eat, drink, shop and experience the essence of a City, as though we live there.

The apartment we’d been recommended was, in short, perfection. Right next to the Uffizi gallery the location was wonderful and we were able to walk all around the city without having to call a cab.

Having dropped off the cases, we headed straight for a cocktail at the Angel Rooftop Bar, recommended by our host. Two Limoncello Spritzes and a hamburger later we were starting to shimmy slightly to the 90s tunes played at the staff party next to us and so ducked out for a little shopping. Stopping for a Mai Tai at La Petite, though, was a mistake. It was a cool spot to have a drink and the cocktails were good; short and strong the way I like them. It was, however, a bridge too far and before we knew it we were swaying back to the delightfully-cool, air conditioned, apartment for a long afternoon nap.

Florence is a beautiful city but there are way too many people crowding its narrow streets, particularly during the day. The magic, for me, is at dusk when the shops and museums have closed. Windows, galleries and Trattorias are gently illuminated and the dark stone streets feel almost magical.

At Fattoria Rossi that first evening we shared a platter of aged organic cheese served with peach jam and honey. Sliced pork loin with roasted potatoes and biscotti dipped into sweet wine. Simple, delicious, fare sitting outside on a quiet street behind the busy piazzas and market stalls. Meandering through the streets to our apartment we were seduced by freshly filled bombolini (doughnuts) which we shared over a coffee for supper.

Wednesday was our only full day in the city and we started early with coffee at Ditta Artiginale. It had been recommend to us by several people and for good reason - the coffee was excellent. We sat on the deep window sills of the bakery to drink and watched the world go by before setting off to Zecchi.

This small but perfectly formed art shop behind the Duomo is one that I have wanted to visit for a long time; colours and materials used by Renaissance and indeed pre-Renaissance painters have been recreated by this company and although it is possible to buy small sets from Choosing Keeping in London I have waited for the experience of visiting the shop itself. I chose a gorgeous set of colours and a couple of watercolour pads that are an unusually long narrow shape, perfect for concertina books.

We popped into Scrivimi and Il Papiro for Florentine marbled notebooks and then stumbled upon the New Bridge Pizza Club for wine and a lunchtime snack.

Drew does not have many interests outside of books, world war II and Manchester United but he is obsessive about music. We became friends more than 20 years ago over a shared love of bands and singers who, at the time, were not widely known. The two of us regularly sent each other home-burned CDs with new playlists via the Bank’s internal mail. The bars and hotels in which we choose to linger always have a particular music vibe. The New Bridge Pizza Club is one of those places. (Also, La Petite for evening cocktails indoors).

Tired of the crowds and heat we made our way across the river for coffee at a converted monastary that Drew had read about. The walk there was tiring, a little smelly and quite uninspiring so we had no great expectation for the place but it was a hidden gem. Students and creatives peppered the tree-shaded cloister to read, work and chat over a coffee. Artist studios opened onto the yard and I was invited in to see the mosaics, paintings and leatherwork that were being created.

I felt inspired to write but did not have any paper. Drew returned with a tray from the cafe holding coffee, iced water and apple cake. Alongside sat a pretty, handmade coptic-bound sketchbook with a borrowed pen.

I wrote.

That evening I bought a beautiful soft leather bag and we ate pizza sitting by the window at 18 Casella. Highly recommend.

The final morning in Florence meant a hunt for luggage storage before our early evening flight. We left our cases safely at Rudi’s Bistro and headed out to a haberdashery store recommended to me by a friend. I spent way too long choosing threads and tassels from seemingly endless drawers before buying pretty handmade candies and a leather belt at nearby shops. Ice cream was consumed and I found a trendy Italian make-up shop in which to buy treats for our nieces.

The visit wouldn’t have been complete without a pilgrimage to the oldest pharmacy in Florence. I have been buying rosewater and pot pourri from their London branch for years and was keen to take in the atmosphere at their headquarters at last. Their window displays are the most beautiful I’ve seen and I spent a long time in each room sniffing and gazing! The perfect end to a short, sweet trip with my love.

Love

Nicki x

The effect mentally is perhaps more damaging and longer-lasting. As a small business owner I see every single order come through on my email, pretty much in real time. These are most often names I recognise of people (customers) I actually feel that I know. I talk to them regularly on social media and occasionally have the pleasure of meeting them at in-person events. I see orders come through from husbands, partners, friends and off-spring buying kits and gift cards, which always gives me a frisson of excitement for X who I know will be receiving the surprise of a Stitchery gift card this year (and then I go on to wonder what they might spend it on). Names I don’t recognise are exciting too - yay! a new customer. Someone just discovering our world! What fun and choice they have ahead of them!

It’s not business, actually, it’s personal.

To see that an order was actually fraudulent makes you feel foolish. When you own a small business it genuinely feels like a burglary - money taken from your pocket when you weren’t paying attention. Like it’s somehow our fault.

Just like an email of complaint or dissatisfaction (a missing set of threads or badly printed linen, perhaps) every single snippet of ‘disappointing’ news hits us like a punch to the stomach. There is no besuited Chief Exec sitting in her/his glossy home office checking numbers on a spreadsheet (whilst sipping chilled champagne and nibbling smoked salmon blinis), idly pondering whether to sack or just verbally warn Employee Y who has made seven mistakes this month.

If a mistake has been made it’s usually me or Drew (Ok, most often me). Infrequently, it’s mum or Sue. We remember exactly when the mistake would have been made. Remember the vibe of the day, who was in the studio and sometimes even what we brought in from the bakery that day. We’re all human and mistakes are going to be made when you have real people rather than robots packing kits and boxes. It doesn’t stop the sting though.

Fortunately, there have been very few frauds. We are in the position where we can refuse to send an order if it looks even remotely fishy and we have steps in place to make sure there are no repeat offenders.

Ironically, as Drew was dealing with emails and doing a little detective work on the claim, I was sitting with my legs tucked beneath me on the sofa, petting the pups and popping chocolates whilst reading a brilliant novel about romance fraud in the 18th Century. I would go so far as to say it was one of my favourite books of 2025.

The Art of a Lie by Laura Shepherd-Robinson is about a newly widowed young woman running a luxury confectionary shop in Piccadilly; the target of dashing conman Will Devereux who sees her inheritance and homes in. I loved the sound of the little shop; the bon bon glasses full of glistening jewel-like candies and the excitement of decadent iced cream! I could understand, too, how she fell for Will.

On the same theme, I had been listening to ‘Matched with a Predator’ on BBC Sounds. Another belter of a story; in fact both The Art of a Lie and this podcast have similar outcomes.

Whilst hoping for a positive outcome on the fraud ourselves, I am chalking all of this up to experience and scrolling through BBC Sounds for another suitable drama. I’ve just started ‘When a Catfish Kills’.

Happy new year, friends.

I loved an annual and a selection box. A Body Shop basket of fruit soaps and bath oil pearls (a classic beauty gift referred to by my family as ‘smellies’). It was also super exciting collecting all of the Hits complication tapes and Now That’s What I Call Music (not much makes you feel older than memories of the first double cassettes with Culture Club and Paul Young). As a child I always had a portable cassette player which I took out to play on the streets with my friends. The first was a Fisher Price beige number that we played marbles alongside, upgraded to a ghetto blaster and a bright red walkman later.

The Corporate years, featured wish lists of Mulberry handbags, Pied à Terre boots and Jigsaw mohair jumpers. Tiny bottles of pink champagne to drink with straws and, perhaps an ipod. Kingston upon Thames was my favourite Christmas shopping destination outside of London.

This year, inspired by the protagonist in The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon, my wishes are minimal. I have asked for a large leather bound notebook, beautiful sepia ink and a scented candle. Next year I want to write until my wrists ache.

Writing a book, being a novelist really, was my burning childhood dream. I wrote stories, letters and diaries constantly, reading hundreds of books in between. I spent my pocket money on notebooks, pens, scented pencils and novelty erasers. Writing sets and once, luxuriously, a Parker pen from WH Smith with which to write to my friends. I copied cartoons and illustrations from books and tucked them into envelopes.

Of course, my job now is the dream I never dared to consider. It developed and grew organically quietly alongside my creative endeavours. Behind the scenes for the last eight years I have been exploring all creative avenues that stitching has opened the doors to. Sharing it is really the most rewarding job I could ever do - I want to write about my work now, too.

On my wish list, then, is a little quiet corner of my busy studio where I can light a candle, put on my headphones and write for an hour every day. It isn’t something that Father Christmas can deliver; it can only be a gift to myself and it is really the single thing I would like to add to my already full and joyous life.

Now, tell me about your favourite childhood Christmas gifts!

Yes, there was lots of the sweet tea and good old-fashioned Southern hospitality that I had expected but the event was something I cannot even find the words for. More than 100 ladies (and some of their husbands) travelled to that area and Ben was compelled to find a suitable venue to house us.

Thankfully, a wedding venue half a mile down the road set the scene for two very special parties. We began on Friday evening with the annual Southern Supper.

This is something that Ben and Terri have run together annually for a few years now. It is a pot luck dinner where locals arrive with a side or sweet dish; fried chicken and sweet tea are provided. The only rules are that politics and religion are left at the door.

Festoon lights twinkled above us on that warm Autumn night and the tables groaned with delicious homemade dishes; most of which were new and fairly exotic to me! Fried okra, Fried green tomatoes and cowboy caviar to name just a few. The dessert table was piled high with homemade puddings and cookies: I am now officially obsessed with Terri’s mother’s banana pudding (thank you to Spencer for hiding an extra portion away for me - whattagal).

It was a fun and informal way to meet a lot of the workshop participants; husbands and partners enjoyed it too.

The day of workshops was BUSY but the excitement around the room was palpable and everyone was SO happy to meet each other. It made me feel emotional and very humble. Here in this pretty spot under the Kentucky sun were more than 100 creative women, many of whom I had been speaking to on social media for years, and sharing stitching with. I hadn’t imagined in my wildest dreams that I would meet most of those people - to see the pieces they had stitched and to witness the friendships that were made and cemented has left me with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and contentment.

It isn’t a new thing, of course. Women have been creating together for centuries: I think that is what made it extra special. To know that we were carrying on a practise enjoyed by our great-grandmothers and the great-grandmothers before them… and before them….

We are lucky today that we can work on our stitching and quilts for the purpose of enjoyment rather than necessity. I would hate to undermine the hard work that our ancestors put into creating quilts and handmade goods; fabrics were repurposed out of necessity and quilts re-quilted to ensure beds were warm on bitterly cold winter nights. I am certain that most of those ladies might have preferred to sit in front of a gas fire watching a Netflix boxset sometimes. What I am also certain of is that those women found pleasure and contentment in gathering and helping each other when things needed to be done - it was that exact sentiment that I believe we harnessed at the Kentucky workshops.

Jen O’Connor of Earth Angels Studio (and Wonderland of Play) gave a fascinating talk about the history of quilts, giving tips on how to date quilts, displaying some of her vast collection.

Dear Christie Jones Ray, illustrator and author, gave a workshop on how to draw and paint a beautiful blue/green pumpkin. In classic Christie style, paints were mixed on pretty china saucers and our favourite Blackwing pencils were provided alongside beautiful deckled-edged watercolour paper.

As well as organising the catering for the two days, Terri (who is also a talented artist and calligrapher!) gave an introduction to calligraphy with instruction on how to form every single letter of the alphabet for people to continue to practise and master.

There was a little shopping too, of course. Ben and a couple of his antique dealer friends had a stall or two with gorgeous American antiques. Christie had created the most beautiful little display of her artwork with special edition Eliza the Mouse to commemorate the occasion.

Heather Sleightholm brought her art (all incredible and I came home with a little stash) and our Drew manned a little table of fabrics and dolly clothes.

I accidentally came home with eight quilts (or quilt tops) plus another dolly and a few doll clothes and toys - Jen had the biggest and best table of items for sale and I found it very hard indeed to resist. How I managed to fit in a shop sweep whilst trying to demonstrate French knots and satin stitch I think is tantamount to my commitment to the retail industry. Ha.

We’re doing the same again next year with a few little improvements and additions to enhance the experience. We will be presenting to the whole room at once for each workshop next year starting with the stitch project so that you can stitch throughout the day as you listen to the talks and enjoy lunch. Christie and I are hoping for Madonna-esque clip-on microphones and an overhead camera so that we can demo and then visit with everyone around the room, providing individual help where necessary.

Delighted to say that Jen is coming to present on another of her specialist subjects, but she, Ben and Terri have already been planning other surprises and talks/workshops which we will be able to share soon.

In the same vein, I thought I’d share things that are often frowned upon in the world of textiles but that I LOVE. Please share your own guilty pleasures in the comments section; I’d love to know and we’re all friends here.

Glue

Feels brave to start with my guiltiest pleasure but here we go. I admit to being borderline obsessed with the various glues suitable for different jobs. A visit to Hobbycraft or Hobby Lobby always finds me loitering in the adhesives aisle!

With a slight aversion to pins, temporary fabric adhesive is a Godsend. I love to use the 505 basting spray for quilts and the glue stick is always in my bag for slow stitch projects.

Of course PVA is a schoolgirl classic but the humble glue stick works well for bonding fabrics and is useful for projects on the go when liquid glue isn’t practical. (Pritt Stick works for attaching paper labels to fabric, if that’s your jam too.)

Gutterman textile glue is wonderful for permantly bonding fabrics together and I use it regularly for brooches, bags and pouches that are going to get a lot of use.

My favourite, however, is Bondaweb. Used to attach embroidery to card or fabric it gives a lovely flat finish to the fabric and allows the stitching to pop!

Polyester Thread

I *know* it doesn’t take dye and usually I’m a little snobby about manmade fabrics but sometimes a job just requires a good strong thread and polyester is the way to go. Nothing more frustrating than a pretty cotton thread snapping as you pull a seam tight (I also find polyester easier to thread through a needle than its fluffier friend, cotton).

A few years ago I did a workshop with Mister Finch and felt validated in my Polyester Thread Appreciation when he pulled out huge reels of extremely strong bonded polyester sailing thread that he insists on for his creations. If it’s good enough for Mister Finch is it is good enough for ALL of us!

Tatty Fabric

With a business shipping hundreds of pieces of antique fabric each month you start to learn which ones are customer favourites and which ones aren’t so popular. The most popular fabric to stitch on appears to be the smoother, finer linen and customers usually prefer the whiter colour to the dingy beige that I love.

You’ve guessed it, I prefer the slubbier stuff. If it has tears, stains and darned patches I am even happier. There is something about a beautiful little bullion knot rose lovingly stitched onto the tattiest of fabric which feels like we are truly giving those unloved unused pieces of cloth a new lease of life. The contrast between the two sets my heart racing.

Spilt Coffee

Stitching every day as I do, I have to be able to fit coffee and chocolate breaks into my day. It’s a non-negotiable. I always preach that snacks and stitching don’t mix, it’s best to keep your hands and your fabric clean, but actually I love to sit in my conservatory with my stitching, a coffee and a little bowl of Smarties. Yes, the coffee might drip or the chocolate might smudge but I find it gives my work a more random feel - many a design has developed a garland of flowers, tiny bird or honey bee to cover a stubborn chocolate spot!

True-life crime dramas, documentaries and podcasts

The gorier the better. I know that I sometimes give the impression that my life is all roses, puppies and lace. In fact it *is* but I have a macabre side that I only admit to my closest friends (and here I am, telling the world).

I think it is because, to me, contrast and incongruity make the world more joyful, interesting and entertaining. Frail, lipsticked, grannies rapping along with The Sugar Hill Gang, tough looking builder blokes chuckling at kitten videos and Banksy’s amazing work on a Norfolk pier or random brick wall all d e l i g h t me!

I hyperfocus through my bigger pieces of work and get stuff done by setting myself up with a coffee, chocolate and daylight lamp in front of the television, ipad or wifi speaker. I binge watch real-life surgery, spooky podcasts and ER documentaries. I love spooky stories, gory stories and amazing true life surgical stories (I just need a Disney palate cleanser an hour or two before bed else I’m too scared to sleep!).

PDFs and online classes

I cannot tell you how much I love an online class and the instant gratification of pdfs. The artists who most inspired my foray into the needlework world reside in Asia and America - I don’t mind spending the money on items to be shipped overseas but I’m super impatient and the wait almost kills me. To be able to access a pattern or class instantly from the likes of Kazuko Aoki, Charlotte Lyons or Terri Brush makes me SO happy! I get the pleasure of watching the class or stitching the pdf instantly and the extra pleasure of shopping my stash or favourite online shops to buy the materials. So fun.

We are working on drastically increasing our online content over the next 6 months and beyond and whilst we know you LOVE to receive a kit in the post I can attest to the fact that it’s also lovely to have instant access with all of your purchases kept remotely in one location, away from judgy family member eyeballs!

As I write this, there are two Cabbage White butterflies fluttering together above the freshly harvested field in front of me. This view is always a reminder that whatever is going on in the world, nature is always grounding and cheerful.

Nicki

So, in no particular order I present to you:

6 things I don’t love in the world of textiles

(a light-hearted list.)

Suffolk Puffs

I collect them in my studio rag baskets for other folk to use in textile art but I don’t get the appeal. Generally they are made out of garish fabric, are really quite large and a little bit floppy. To me they just represent squashed shower hats (and I don’t like those either). This is the admission that blew my friends’ minds; I had to repeat myself several times. Haha.

Caveat: the teeny tiny French General ones that my dear Sue (@homespunwithlove) makes are divine. But then everything is better in miniature (Sue’s quite small too).

Thread Soup

Some of my favourite textile artists (and friends) love thread soup. They keep bowls of tangled thread on their worktables and pull out a little piece to use randomly in their work, giving their finished piece movement, vibrancy and interest.

Thread soup gives me a minor rage. I have little chests of drawers full of accidental thread soup and I am afraid it goes in the bin.

Caveat: I would like to be the kind of talented textile artist who finds inspiration in a bowl of thread soup and I’m working on this.

Pins

Absolutely hate pinning stuff. Despise working on pinned fabrics when it’s all spiky and would much rather temporarily baste with glue or stitches. Pins in fabric make me shudder a little. Bring on the glue stick (which, on the flip side, is something a textile artist should probably not admit to either).

Caveat: antique tins of dressmaking pins, tiny Clover appliqué pins or super fine black entomology pins - loving on those all day long.

Liberty Print Fabric

Oh dear I feel I’m going to lose a lot of you with this one. It’s not Liberty fabrics per se. It’s the William Morris ones specifically. SORRY. Could not love the novelty and ditsy ones more, and I have loads of their beautiful plain lawn. But the Strawberry Thief and peacock prints (et al) leave me cold (I think because I don’t love art deco).

Caveat: my friends and fellow textile artists Sue Stichbury and Christie Jones Ray choose the prettiest Liberty fabrics and create stunning quilts and ‘objets’ that I covet deeply and often try to replicate.

Thimbles

How does anyone stitch with one massive finger? I sometimes work so intensely that I gouge a deep hole in the middle finger of my right hand but I still cannot rock a thimble. I’ve tried leather ones (the best if I had to choose), plastic, rubber, metal and even tiny stickers. When I really have to cover my fingertip I use a plaster then have a day or two of enforced rest (which means I paint or knit).

Caveat: my afore-mentioned, very posh, friend Christie has a beautiful fancy silver thimble that is sort of one-sided so looks like a tiny helmet from a suit of armour. I’d love to try one but a) there’s a complicated finger-measuring system, b) they’re quite expensive and c) the company is based in America. (Measuring things makes me sweat - SO much room for error).

Satin Stitch

Love the way it looks, hate doing it. It takes soooooo looooonnnnnng and requires very specific items to get a good finish (such as the exact needle, fabric type, thread weight, light source, air temperature and wind direction). My favourite kind of stitching is done spontaneously from a messy bag of threads and a pouch full of quite wrinkled fabric scraps. And lace - swoon.

Caveat: Will repeat, I love the way it looks. So I have my sister stitch those designs for me. Ha.

I wonder if anyone agrees with me or if I’ve just inadvertently committed career suicide. Next time I’ll be back with a list of things I DO love in textile art but probably shouldn’t admit to either.

Would love to know yours if you feel like unburdening yourself too. I won’t tell anyone.

Caveat: photos within this post are some of the things I L. O. V. E. Chippy paint. White antique linen. Muted colours. Tiny spools of silk thread. Tatty fabric. Fancy, extra sharp, scissors. Plain bound embroidery hoops. Lace. Embroidery with lots of white ‘breathing’ space. Old quilts. Pink, red and pale blue. Birds. Typewritten cloth. My logo.

Colin the Caterpillar jelly sweets. Oops no photo of that but got carried away.

I started to be a little more mindful of my version of ‘rest’ only recently. It was a Saturday afternoon and, as always, it had been a busy week at work with long days and short nights. (I produce my best work at the last minute, however hard I try to be organised but a downside is that my family and work support have to fit in with me. It’s hard for everyone, I know). We were home having taken my niece out for pancakes to celebrate the end of her SATs - Drew went outside for ‘a lil nap’. I could’ve joined him; I was exhausted too, but I spent the two hours folding and tidying my new doll stash and felt noticeably refreshed afterwards. It was kind of an epiphany!

To recharge my batteries in between work commitments, the best thing I can do is to be a little bit busy. My version of rest, actually, is making stuff. I knit, bake, write and have recently started to learn how to make soldered jewellery. (I love my new soldering pals!)

I have been made to feel guilty for ‘displacement’ activity in the past, when I *should* be working on a forthcoming deadline. But I know that starting anything early is a waste of my time; it takes a lot longer to work it and I am never happy with the end result when I approach things in advance.

So this week I have been making doll clothes in between jobs and I do not feel the slightest bit guilty! The clothes I favour are crying out for stitched and patched embellishments and I’m enjoying playing.

Today I finished this little checked peasant blouse and oversized overalls, which I made from an antique linen tea towel. Next up is a pair of bloomers made from beautiful organic double gauze, with tiny silk embroidery ribbons.

Creative life, happy life :)

(The wee bear came to live with me this weekend - from Lesley at country_girl_corner on instagram. Love at first sight. With the bear, but Lesley is lovely too!)

Sam McKechnie of The Magpie and the Wardrobe is coming to the studio next month to teach a ‘Magical Wand and Wishes’ workshop. We will make our own twiggy wands, decorated with crystals and charms, then stitch a beautiful meditation cloth, worked with mindful stitches and metallic threads as we set clear, positive intentions for the remainder of the year.

Sam always brings an abundance of gorgeous materials for her students to create with and it will be a very special day. Held the week after midsummer celebrations, I will fill the studio with flowers and make little floral favours for my guests.

I made my own wand today with sprigs of white lavender, dried roses, crystals and charms. Beads and sequins were, of course, added together with some old lace and snippets of my favourite fabric.

It will be the second ‘mindful’ workshop that I’ve held at the studio. Jen Kershner’s ‘Sacred Stitch’ day at the studio was a sell-out this February and the vibe in the room was extraordinary. Women sharing life hacks, stories and support as they worked gentle stitches into beautiful cloth. It was very special and very uplifting.

I hope you can join us. Book your place here.

Stitching now takes me right back home. Settling down with fabric and a needle reminds me of easy days: those rainy evenings when I perched on the kitchen counter and read passages from Brer Rabbit to my Mum as she cooked. After-school tea and biscuits with Jackanory on the television. Late-night Summer walks with my Dad and our Dalmatians, keeping an eager eye out for hedgehogs and bats in the fields near our home.

I had an idyllic childhood, it’s only when hormones kicked in that I started to suffer with episodes of depression and crippling anxiety. I had given up stitching for sport and art in senior school which kept me on an even keel. The A-Level years were when I lost my way.

There has been all sorts of therapy over the years. In my late 40s and perimenopausal I finally have the emotional awareness (and medical explanations) to understand what has caused my suffering: the guilt and shame attached to being depressed when you know that you are lucky and have absolutely nothing to be depressed about, is a whole nightmare of its own let me tell you!

I stitch for the process. I don’t *need* an embroidered lavender bag or a country scene on my wall. I’m not organised enough to stitch something for a gift. A finished piece of embroidery has served its purpose and I am ready to move onto the next thing (which is why I have cupboards full of embroidered fabric which I am going to frame and sell on very soon!).

I love the sensation of thread pulling through fabric, the feel of the cloth in my hands whether it is soft and floppy or coarse and rustic.

Texture and contrast are my jam; a delicate bullion rose knot adorning a tattered piece of antique hemp. Clusters of French knots and lazy daisies forming daisy chains on a fragment of crisp silk.

Stitching slows my heart rate, calms my breath and steadies my thoughts. I urge you to try it!

There are 12 embroideries (24 if you include the micro motifs for the back of your pillows/stuffed hearts) and five extra stitching projects in the Big Top Bulletin, the little pattern magazine that runs alongside the box. There is an EPP pin cushion, cross stitch for the front of a project bag (full instructions for both) and a tiny flower seller sewing box companion amongst many other fun things.

Sarah has stitched all of the embroideries for the box apart from one which she, for some reason, has not been able to finish. The poor little front-of-house monkey.

He’s just a tiny figure in beige and cream, holding a banner to welcome you to the circus. But he broke her. His soft beige fur took hours for Sarah to complete and by that time she had developed a mental block over him.

And so I spend my Friday evening with husband and puppies, finishing off a little stitched monkey so that we can get the box back on track for delivery soon.

If you have ordered one of the boxes then thank you so much - you are going to love it (and I promise the monkey is very simple, Sarah is just overworked I think!)

Despatch is looking like mid-late May now (certainly no later) and we will be posting sneak peeks on our instagram page.

Thank you for reading and have a great weekend.

Nicki x

Always ever-so-slightly unsure of whether the things I put out there are ‘good enough’, I wasn’t sure. It doesn’t matter that I have had literally thousands of folk sign up for the classes, or that I receive beautiful feedback via email on an almost daily basis (thank you). I seem to have this default button where I make All The Things then throw them out into the world, haphazardly, like bread to the ducks, never to be spoken of again. I bet there are at least ten pieces of work that I have created of which you know nothing about. Which is kind of problematic because I am *supposed to* be selling those things.

I find self-promotion super awkward, you see. Is it because I am female, British, self-taught and/or apologetic? (Maybe you can relate.) Is it a combination of all or none of those things? Is it, perhaps, because back in 2019 when I had been running The Stitchery for over a year, receiving a lot of positive feedback and encouragement from like-minded ladies on line, a letter fluttered onto the studio doormat with the anonymous author telling me that they did not approve of what I was doing and that all I seem to do at my studio is sell things which is ‘not in the spirit of stitching’? (I wish I was joking.)

Who knows.

Drew is usually right, particularly when it comes to all things commerce, and so I started to review the classes that I have filmed and uploaded to my teaching website, wondering if it would be a valuable and interesting deal for my customers.

An unfamiliar and, if I’m honest, slightly uncomfortable feeling started to creep across my shoulders, flushing my cheeks and making me sit a little taller. I think it was pride. I felt proud of the work I’d created; both in terms of volume and quality.

Just saying out loud that I feel proud makes me feel queasy. Pride, after all, comes before a fall and when you’re running your own business responsible for your entire household’s income, one cannot afford a fall. But there are a lot of classes on my studio website with an awful lot of content; I share how to stitch a floral alphabet letter-by-letter, vintage seed packets and a whole series of embroideries including postcards with typically British scenes featuring thatched cottages and grazing sheep.

There’s a series of 18 lessons (The Stitch Sampler Stitchalong) showing how do work the basic and most essential stitches, with tips on how you might use them in your own art. A garden sampler with pretty flowers, beehives and topiary trees. Butterflies and bugs.

‘Stitch a Garden’ which tells you how to approach embroidering your own garden, or the beautiful national gardens that you love, with tips on everything from paths, tools, flowers and greenhouses.

The Language of Flowers was a fun and interesting project; my classes online show how to stitch foxgloves, snowdrops and forget-me-nots. There are classes with patchwork for beginners and short but sweet videos showing how to make cushions with your embroidery and stuffed hanging hearts.

It is joyful and it is exactly what I want to share in the world; what I think I was put here for. For the first time in my 48 years I feel that I have put out something useful and (if I say so myself, beautiful. Morris would be pleased with me).

If you haven’t joined an online embroidery class before, you might like to have a little peek. My classes are available with lifetime access which means that you can work at your own pace and revisit as often as you like. My teaching style is friendly and informal (I’m kind of chatty) so if you feel like stitching at home, learning some new things and hearing about the books I’m reading, or the TV I’ve enjoyed then come and join me. I’d love to have you in class and I’m always on the end of an email if you’d like to get in touch.

Thanks for reading.

Nicki x

For more information about The Stitchery online classes please check out the teaching studio here.

To read about, and purchase, the online bundles please go to the website here.

We are a small business based in the English countryside, working with quality materials and listening to fabulous podcasts! Thanks for being here!

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