Tag Archives: #recycling

Hearty appetite


It hardly comes as any surprise that anything we eat has an impact on the environment. Nor that said impact is invariably negative, and that the best thing to do would possible be to stop eating at all.

Following such advice counters survival. So instead we compromise: Eat less meat, especially red meat. Go vegetarian or indeed vegan all the way. Eat only organic foods. Or indeed a combination of, say, organic and vegan.

And of course we want the best for our children. So we give them organic food at home and see to it that their daycare does too.

But what about the bib? Children are messy eaters and use bibs. Less washing is a good idea. Growing cotton and turning it into bibs (among so many other things!) is … well, less good. Even organically grown cotton comes with soil, water, and a lot of energy in the processes on its way to clothes. Including bibs.

So why not give your textiles a second life? This bib has a history: It was a towel in a hospital until it ripped from wear. Via sewing machine, the un-ripped parts became bibs. And 40 of them are on their way to a daycare. Ready for a new life with new stains, more washing and wear.

That’s in good tune with their organic food.

Think pink!

pink skuldertaske for

pink skuldertaske bag

My darling mum was always a collector and saver. I inherited and willingly pick up anything she began to discard because of a move to a smaller flat. I fully intend to turn the odds and ends into something, and this shoulder bag is one such thing.

I have no clue what she intended the two different kinds of material for. Probably something else. Only thing I’m sure about is the strap surprised her.

It’s an old bicycle tube.

The top is something shiny, the beads are mostly Czech glass, the floral-print is satin.

There’s something about contrasts …


My mother was a seamstress, she gave me old blue jeans

Remember The Animals? If not, here’s the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MgTSfJEf_jM

My Mum never learned how to make her own patterns, Taht never stopped her sewing and repairing scores of garments including worn blue jeans. Her sewing machine is sturdy and was only sold because she missed being able to make buttonholes easily.

She’s now 91 and recently moved to a smaller flat than before. This move prompted a clean-up, and because I bought her old sewing machine and make things out of cast-away scraps including patchwork, I also took home a bagful of jeans letftovers.

So when she talked of getting a bed spread for the guest bed I stopped her saying I’d make her one. And here’s the beginngs of it:


12 patches sewn together, 12 more cut and ready to be added. Depending on accumulated weight the restwill be either only regular calico patchwork or more Jeans pieces + calico. And I’ll be dot-quilting these pieces with some of all the buttons she gave me over the years.

So did anyone guess what animal I am? Yup, that’s right. The hoarding squirrel.

Down with the bedclothes, up with the night shirt

No, we don’t like wicked Uncle Ernie or anyone like him. He’s a sick pervert who causes awful pain and damage.

What I at least do like is re-use. Or recycling. Some posts ago I wrote about converting two torn duvet covers into PJs for my daughter. This time there was only one duvet cover with a tear in it at the top. My daughter said no to another PJ, and since it was a white cover of rather nice material I instead dug out my trusty book on Danish peasants’ shirts from 1750-1850. Since that was a time of hand-weaving, which takes a very long time, the patterns are basically geometry excercises along the lines “how to shape something wearable outof only rectangles and squares”.

Cut out and laid out it looks like this:


Apologies for the fuzzy snap. There are two body rectangles, two sleeve rectangles, two yoke rectangles, a collar rectangle and two cuff rectangles + four gusset squares. There is practically no spill this way, and therefore I can get two long-sleeve shirts on that single duvet cover. One is almost done:


The cover was inherited from my mother-in-law. I guess it serves its due.

Oh and who is this Ernie character?! Well – who indeed. A fictitious character, something as abominable as a pedophile. From the rock opera “tommy” by – The Who