As ties are untied

I am now homeless, jobless and car-less - luckily I cook well, have a long suffering sister and hungry nephews.

It is rather a relief to have sent the car on its way.  Mind you,  it was amazing how many calls we had after the car was sold - at least a couple a day - if only they'd all called when we first advertised it.

We've been practising on trains since we arrive, but yesterday was our biggest adventure yet.  In fact, it might have been my biggest adventure ever on Melbourne trains; which isn't saying much since I hardly ever used the trains apart from going from Ringwood to Box Hill or Seaford to Melbourne.  I decided that it was time to get an actual project that I could do in front of the TV in the evening or when my brain was completely on hold. I had  come to Melbourne with hardly any clothes and I was getting just a touch sick of them.  They're old, crappy and/or inappropriate for  the middle east.  The plan was to buy clothes there. I have been looking around the local shops, but everything has no sleeves, is too fitted or made of rayon.  Rayon makes me smell.  I know it breathes well, but whenever I wear rayon, it develops a distinct case of halitosis.  It was time to make a stand.

Yesterday I decided to pop down to Camberwell and have a look for fabric.  There used to be a fabric shop in Camberwell, I used to go past it regularly when I did my shopping.  That wasn't very long ago...really... truly... okay, it was before I was even pregnant with James - 30 years ago at least.  We walked and walked to no avail until a very familiar voice said "Hello."  Hooray!  A chance encounter with Dawn!  Excellent.  Shopping was abandoned and a simply scrumptious lunch was had, with lashings of nattering.  Not to mention confirmation that there indeed was no fabric shop in the vicinity and splendid suggestions for nipping off to purchase fabric.

We said our adieu's as Dawn dashed back to work and pottered off to the station.  We hadn't really decided where we were going, just that we were hopping back on a train, so I paused to check where things were while David popped into an antique shop.  Aha!  I found the simplest way to get to a fabric store I'd never been to, cunningly avoiding going all the way into Melbourne and having face Cleggs (very expensive) or Lincraft (OMG!).  Darn Cheap fabrics in Glenhuntly, it only involve a couple of trains really.  When I went into the antique shop David had vanished.  It is a lovely multi-level antique shop full of trinkets and sparkly bobs and bibs, but nothing really took my eye.  Eventually there was a voice from the heavens and David hoaved into view gesticulating towards the back of the store insisting that I go up the stairs (stairs, I'm a little over stairs) and look in some back case or other.

Always one to keep the husband happy I rambled in and had a look.  Oh goodness me!  There, lying resplendent in its glass case, was a renaissance recorder of the tenor variety, with fontanelle at an outrageously low price.  What a gorgeous sight.  Here, in front of my eyes, was the real reason that we were still in Melbourne.  To save this poor, unloved soul from its tomb of glass.

and here it is...lovely.

How could the day get better?  Well, a few train changes later I was snug in Darn Cheap Fabrics, Glenhuntly. Oh goodness me.  Lucky for our bank balance I had already splurged, so I was feeling restrained.  I selected three fabrics for three tops, two cottons and a silk/cotton blend and went to find a pattern.  I was almost thwarted when they didn't have pattern I wanted.  "Take a photo" the lovely , knowledgeable (take note Lincraft) attendant said,  "Maybe you'll be able to find it somewhere else.  I think you'll need about three metres of fabric."  Then I had one of those "You know you're in the SCA when..." moments.

A Burda pattern with part of the number cut off

I look a little closer "Oh, I don't need a pattern for that!" quoth I, "It's just made of rectangles. It will be perfect for hand sewing in the evening"  

"Goodness, really?  Good on you" said the lovely girl and we returned to my fabric to cut each three metre length.  One of the rolls had a break a metre,  so  she disregarded that and rolled off three more metres.  When I got home I discovered that I actually had 5 metres and this afternoon, when I cut out the tunic, I only used the free piece. Lord knows how Burda wanted you to cut it!  

So, this evening will be spent quietly hand sewing while my sister is out at a Rod Stewart concert, the AFL is on at the other end of the house and David and I are sipping wine watching some blood and guts.  What a life!