Craftcheeseslices

I used to call these crap cheese slices as a child and genuinely thought that's what they were called. I was wrong. Obviously.

I guess subconsciously that's a good start to this blog, for once, I'm not going to put a poem or document some emotional epiphany, its more an everyday sorta blog about little details that together make up the every day which in turn makes up my life.

This weekend, after a week of flu both mine and the Misters , I felt completely bored of both the internet, books and Television and lacking the funds and warmth to go outside and play, I turned to crafts. Now I think I may outwardly seem as someone who likes crafts, and in fact I would class myself as someone who does. Problem is I never actually fucking make anything that isn't food based. Seriously EVER I never finished anything i

n Tech, in my school report my teachers were a few pol

ite words away from calling me flaky!! I admit it, I'm a craft fraud. I buy home-made looking shit off motivated and talented strangers in order to not pretend as such but maybe insinuate I could have made it myself.

Well, I decided it was time to maybe try and finish something that I started. It was 1am, I had drunk a bottle of wine. I decided I would make a cushion using my meagre resources.

Ingredients

1 Slightly Drunk Craft Fraud

A sewing kit my boyfriend bought from the corner shop months ago

An old dress, ruined beyond repair by my slapdash nature or looking after things

A pillow from our spare room

(apologies to any of you who stay in our spare room your head may be slightly less comfy next time)

The End Result

OK, in the real world to a real person who believes in their own abilities this is a bit of a shitty pillow, but to me it seemed in my drunken state at 4am with sore fingers and a living room full of pillow innards that it meant I can now do anything in the world.

So the next day, invigorated by my wonky seamed success the only viable step seemed to be to make a silly pig teddy. and thats exactly what I did. Pocket Pig was born.

He now lives on our fire place.

I might give up now, I have just consumed a rather lush prawn stir fry cooked by the Mister and my fags are calling my name. More to Come.