Public and Private «

Public and Private

Sunday 22nd January 2023

In January the duties of the home come first although more engagements have been carried out than might appear.

Fabrics in my private bedroom have gone into a decline. Val is supposed to be edging the new piece of orange silk organza for the top end of the bed but the light bulb on his machine has gone.

We fight on. We fight to win.

The curtain has frayed in the sun and must be cut down.

Meanwhile I’ve been repairing the Indian cut-work bedspreads myself. Dreadful worry about the people who made them originally – such exploitation. All hand-stitched for which they would have got nothing. I’d forgotten about the white one in the drawer. It looks as if, about seven years ago, I abandoned the task of sewing on new pieces of organza where the original backing had split. Well, I’ve got over that and it’s now back on the bed, but requiring constant vigilance. Where oh where are the white work specialists of yesteryear, especially in the Dutch 17th century – all those ruff-makers? Where are they when you need them?

The other, mauve cut-work bedspread will have to be re-edged. It’s taken about 3 weeks just to come up with a plan. Originally I thought to get more cotton organdie from Mucculloch and Wallis and have someone do it. But the hardest part of sewing, you know, is the cutting out. So some poor crone would have had to cut pieces on the bias (for edging this is vital) then sew them on by hand. Impossible. The cost. So my new direction is to acquire ready-made bias binding which is easily available and then see, believe it or not, if I can sew it on myself using Aunt Olive’s sewing machine which is in the dining room, posing as a table on which the TV rests.

The mauve cut-work bedspread is rather more robust than the white one under which I am lain at night now, feeling as though romping with the Turin Shroud or those 3 3/4 yards of black lace said to have belonged to the Madonna.

The beauty of fabrics – in so many ways the sacred part of the home.

But I tell you, it’s not easy to juggle all by oneself, with no staff. Acquisitions are still looking for bronzes and gilt-bronze for the hall shelf. I give hours to trawling the-saleroom.com then forget to bid. Or if remembering, go wrong. On Thursday I left a bid for an Empire inkstand – incredibly swirling, the main slab held up by winged horse-ladies etc. Now I’ve got to go to Hazlemere to fetch it. Just praying it won’t be horrid. Like a fool, I failed to bid for the pair of plain bronze vases with a single putti on each half way up which would have looked superb on my gilt brackets in the conservatory. They went for a manageable price. The previous week there was an obelisk in Ashford state with flowers inlaid I thought too much at £300 plus taxes. But now I find they go for £1000 plus from a dealer.

Anthony Mottram said, ‘Why do you want any more items for your shop?’ I said, ‘I’m thinking about a new sofa, or rather a George Smith sofa from eBay.’ Shopping never ends. The more the home resembles a shop, the better.

I mustn’t forget the front bedroom (main guest) where new windows were installed and horrible thick white gunge put to fill where window meets wall. All that’s had to gouged out and it’s been a two-week battle to get a good straight edge. In fact I’ve had to settle for not entirely straight.

Marmalade production has also begun. Clothes, needless to say, could not be overlooked while the sales in progress.

Looking back, I just don’t know how I’m getting through it all.