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Shedding

Ok, so you’ve heard me banging on about my sewing shed not least because it’s a thing of majesty and madness. Thing is, you’ve never actually seen what it looks like, hence this bobbin-based peep show especially for your delectation and delight. I have to fess up to one thing though: this weekend it’s gone through something of a transformation, taking it from a portal of chaos to vaguely functioning workspace, making this as good a time as any to open the doors.

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Course, this involved two – TWO – trips to Ikea and that is two too many. The last time I was in Ikea I flung a banana and screamed like a stung toddler, such was my distress at having to negotiate 3.6 miles of arrowed pathways just to take a shit. I vowed never to return until, that is, I realised that my fabric hoard would be better cared for on shelves rather than stuffed in corners. The result, after six year old Kraken Junior had taken a hammer to my Ikea purchases, is a nook of awesomeness (and no that is not a euphemism):

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Course, this uber-professional workspace shed now means I can swivel in my chair like a pin-pricked Alan Sugar while plotting global domination via the medium of backstitch alone. Imagine Rumplestiltskin crossed with Orla Keily and add a large dash of bug-eyed f-bombs and you’re halfway there. Oh, and if you don’t hear from me for a while, don’t blame me. Blame the new shelves because, thanks to Kraken Junior’s efforts, they’ll probably have fallen on me.

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