Sewing Doris: Getting A Bit Brave In Her Dotage...

 

Most recent sewing project made from an horrific slidy sheer fabric. A test for any Doris, regardless of skill level.

It's inspired by a Biba blouse I have which I wanted to replicate, the pattern of which I had to adapt; drawing upon my pattern construction learnings from (ahem) 25 years ago...

From a green satin cape trimmed with gold braid which I made for Wol (my favouritest toy owl which is still alive and now loved by Clever Norris) at the age of 8, to my most recent project of a blouse made from a terrifying fabric, I have always been a bit of a sewer. Never one to shie away from a sewing challenge, I have a wide repertoire, from frequently mending the ripped trouser crotches of friends children to recovering a recliner chair whilst 8 months pregnant.
So instead of sitting on this side of the telly and shouting at it (that's Mr Doris's speciality) I decided to put my sewing machine where my mouth is and apply for the next series of The Great British Sewing Bee.
Have I taken leave of my senses completely or am I just deluded? Isn't appyling to make a complete chump yourself in front of the nation something other people do?
Time will only tell...

 Sewing: the gift that keeps on giving...honest.

 

 

Empire line tunic made with 2 layers of fabric. Worn for a 'significant birthday' party.

 

In fact all my clothing projects are made with an occasion in mind, usually around 3 days before the event (just to pile on a little bit more pressure...) because I can't find anything in the shops, therefore returning home with another pair of shoes and a lipgloss, so I think "ooh I'll make myself something instead, that's a good idea."

Perhaps I should just turn up in shoes and lipgloss, sporting a big smile...

 

 

 

Bridal Doris - all fancied up (hair brushed, nails filed and everything...)

 

After 2 children and 12 years of being Mr Doris's superior, I figured that wearing white for our wedding would be both unflattering for my colouring and rather laughable. And being a scruffy Doris I wouldn't be able to keep it clean. Dress was customised with little gold flowers to disguise the fact that the hem was less than perfect. I also added a tulle halterneck, again decorated with the flowers. Lined fur shrug also a handmade Doris addition.

By the end of a long day, featured frock was splattered with wine and the stomach contents of an over-indulged-Young Clever anyway so it is rather fortunate that I'm a non- princessy/precious type.

...yes folks, the kind of wedding a girl can only dream about.

 

 

 

For those of who haven't had the pleasure to meet the esteemed Mr Doris: here he is, resplendent in full Elvis jumpsuit c/o Clever Doris. One of many costumes lovingly created by CD for one of his many Jolly Boy jaunts.

 

 

 

 A duffel style swimming bag and a bath toy bag made for Clever Norris out of an old 1960s towel. The waterproof lining is a betterware sink skirt sample, 'relieved' from my ex-place of work to the puzzlement of my colleagues.

Bless CN - he's so compliant. It won't last...and he'll hate me one day.

 

 

Comfort for an expanding Doris bottom: positioned atop a couple of refurbished chairs, both of which I don't think I paid more than £2 for.

 

 

 

Floor cushions made for both Boy Clevers. Everything made must be duplicated. Or else. And yes, there was an argument about who had the cushion with the stripey braid...

 

 

 

More cushions for Clever Maurice, appliqued using the motifs from outgrown t-shirts.

 

 

Cushion for CN from an old jumper of mine. What posessed me to think a green crew neck shetland wool jumper would look good on me, I have no idea...

 

 

 

A roman blind made from a vintage tablecloth, lined with the remnant of a cotton sheet.

 

 

 

...so has she actually EATEN the baby? - CN's response when attempting to explain to him that a friend has 'a baby in her tummy'.

 

Now like any good earth mother I wrote down all the funny little expressions the young Clevers said back in the days of learning to speak (also because I knew I'd never remember them in later years). For a long while I was at a loss as to what to do with this scratty bit of paper with randomly strung together words and statements until I came up with this little idea.

I made a pine frame and stretched/stapled a piece of canvas onto it, to make a kind of embroidery frame. I then set up a word doc, choosing an appropriate 'kidprint' font and laid out the text onto the document. I then overlayed a piece of acetate onto it and transferred the text using a permanent marker.

I have in my possession an overhead projector, a gert heavy and awkward thing which takes loads of space in Mr Doris's manly domain, but I'll be damned if I'm getting rid... 

Laying the wordy acetate onto the projector screen, I projected it onto the canvas and lighty drew the words onto it using a pencil. I was then ready to create the letters using a small running stitch and embroidery thread. 'Twas a very simple and good 'sitting in front of the telly' project.

 

 

Standard lamp in CN's room. 

Nothing escapes the sewing/painting/glueing clutches of Doris.

 

 

 

Looking Beyond The Brown: A Stinky Sideboard Restoration

 

 

 

Before: a hulking great dirty beast of piece. Resplendent with 60+ years of lumpy old paint and dubious stainage. And oh the odour - deliciously rancid!

I've always adored a mucky furniture restoration project. I find the whole process extremely therapeutic; giving what is normally a horrid brown dirty thing a brand new identity. I source every piece with a purpose in mind, with my favoured eras being 1930s to 60s. Fortunately there's a lot of furniture of this age around (probably due to the fact it was built so solidly) and can be picked up for a song if you know where to look and have that all important vision when you're out wombling...

Equipment needed for a basic furniture update:

• Transport & Muscles: or a toothy smile if you need help humping a piece into the back of your car
• Tape measure: carry one at all times, along with a list of the dimensions of available spaces in your home
• Outside space: for stripping. The furniture by the way (Doris does not in anyway advocate outdoor nudity, particularly when using power tools and takes no responsibility for injuries occured if you choose to do so...)
• Tarpaulin/groundsheet/large old sheet: to place under the piece. Also useful for covering ones modesty if the postman happens to call
• Heat gun/paint stripper: being a Health & Safety aware kind of Doris, I try to avoid using these as much as possible due to the potential health hazards. Although on this occasion I did not avoid said use of (my lungs are now empty crisp packets). See also Outside space
• Sand paper: light & medium grit
• Sugar soap, cleaning rags: for cleaning. Obviously
• Screwdrivers: to remove hardware
• Pva glue & Wood filler: for those moments of 'oops'
• Paint: primer/undercoat, eggshell or gloss
• An iron constitution: and unmanicured hands (in situations such as these 'tis a fortunate thing that the princess gene has completely bypassed CD)
• A windless day: I'll come to that later

Look beyond the brown-ness. Imagine your finished subject in an off-white, soft cream or grey. Lighter colours for large pieces are best as they look less imposing, fitting into most settings.

 

Stripping the piece using a heatgun. Speedy and hazardous.

 

Using Mr Doris's orbital sander. Note health and safety footwear: birkenstocks and socks.

Phwoar - a more attractive sight you'll never see...

 

 

 

Cleaning before paint application - using sugar soap and warm water.

 

 

 

Left drawer, after - scrubbed up rather well hasn't it?

 

 

 

 Applying initial coat of water based primer.

 

Now remember my comment about the need for a windless day? - advice which comes about by way of experience. I thought (in my blind foolishness) that a windy day would be ideal conditions to do a messy, smelly job such as this. However the windyness was such that when I started to strip the piece bits of crispy, curled up old paint flew all over the driveway. And it's virtually impossible to clear up because the more one brushes the more the paint breaks down into tiny pieces, making it even more impossible to retrieve. Which made Mr Doris really cross; telling me off for being a scruffy old sort. And I had to go and retrieve my unmentionables from next door's tree, which had blown off the washing line. Most undignifed...

Anyway all traumas overcome, I then moved onto the most-fun-because-it's-final stage: topcoating (2 of). Another windy day ensued, causing bits of grass from Mr Doris's recent lawnmowing endeavour to stick to the wet oilbased paint. Retribution for trashing the driveway during the stripping process, I expect.

 

 

 

Dried, grass and insects removed, hardware replaced. SOLD to a good friend and neighbour to start a new life as a Welly Cupboard. Said neighbour now wants a cushion for the top...

 

 

Clever Doris's Big Job: Recycled Kitchen-slash-Dining Room

Grab a cuppa - you're in for a long read...

Now Clever and Mr Doris aren't afraid of a Ruddy Great Big Project-and-a-half. So we completely embraced an assignment such as This Ruddy Great Big One. It had been a long time coming; 10 years of shuffling around the kitchen, getting under each others feet. Once child no2 was on two legs, 4 of us shuffling around what was becoming an ever decreasing space became most irritating. We just weren't moving around the room in an efficient way. And Clever Doris dislikes inefficiency. The Young Clevers were always being told to "go into the other room while we finish here and we'll be with you in a minute" Chuck a few hot pans and knives into the mix and you have a potential situation which Social Services might be interested in.
Therefore the wall between the kitchen and back room would have to come down, creating one big space we could eat and dance in. The back room had been laughingly set up as a dining room which we never used, instead favouring eating on our laps in the living room.
Oh how common: the shame!
We needed a space to eat, cook, chat, do homework, sew, relax and dance in, and have space for an ironing board (which resided in the bathroom). Tall order, I know. And Mr Doris's stipulaton, being the Alpha Male, HAD to have a real fire and a smeg cooker (because, although Alpha, he's a fine cook). No pressure then...
So essentially what we had on our hands was a rather enormous project. The challenge being to come in under £4,000. This small budget, we felt, would be achievable due to CDs love of recycling stuff. The building work would be a fixed cost, we couldn't change that. However the remaining stuff could be done by reusing existing items such as the cream gloss units (which, although 10 years old, were still in perfect condition and quite neutral in style/colour).
And the labour? - well Team Doris of course.
Step 1 - order of works. This is where Mr Doris came in. He's an engineer you know. I suppose that makes me an executive's wife. Like Margot off 'The Good Life'. Anyway he's only happy when he's planning a project.
Step 2 - inventory. A shopping list really. Hurrah!

Before: kitchen with adjoining wall on the left. It was kind of ok. But 'ok' really won't do will it? Note the fact we never originally got round to putting plinths under the units. One can only imagine the horrors lurking therein... all I can say is "Squeak, squeak!"

Before: 'dining room' with adjoining wall on the right.

First stage was to call upon building regs dept. to check the plans so the house won't fall down mid-build. We also needed to employ an architect to calculate the size of the steel beam required to prop up the adjoining wall. The old codger architect however was rubbish at adding up, so got the calculations wrong. Mr Doris therefore had to tap into his considerable engineering skills to recalculate and order the beam. Fortunately we have a friend and neighbour who is a builder and has the rare quality of being dead reliable. Well he has to be really because he's a neighbour and Mr Doris would thump him if he did a rubbish job!

Wall gone.

Messy work done.

 2 rooms.

Into one.

Now another of Clever Doris's skills (along with poetry) is the ability to plan rooms due to a stint studying interior design, thus being able to produce scaled perspective drawings. Doing this, I knew where everything would fit and was able to plan accordingly. Mr Doris, on the other hand, is exceedingly useful and practical in all things butch and manly. And he has a well-stocked toolbox. This project also gave him the excuse to buy more tools which made him very happy...

We were both adamant that we would reuse as much as possible. Even the 2 previous double wall units, with a bit of chopping and bolting together, were reconfigured back-to -back to be used as base units under the breakfast bar. A little cupboard which originally sat above the old extractor was turned on its side, rehinged and used to house the ugly great fuse box. In fact the only thing we had to replace was a sink carcase for £30. Bargain. Over and above though was the need for practically whilst retaining a sense of uniqueness. I didn't want to slavishly follow any trend or theme. Step away from the twee, that's what I say.

Open shelving containing baskets containing those really annoying plastic tubs which unfortunately we all need but simultaneaously hate.

The one thing I was determined we would spend a good proportion of the budget on was the worktop. I wanted thick solid oak. And what Doris wants...

After a lot of research I found a particular website which sold and delivered oak worktop at the best price. However upon inspection I concluded that the layout of the site seemed to target a certain small demographic: namely 'gentleman who like to look at ladies'. It was most offputting so I resumed my search elsewhere. What a lady-bosom and features such as the 'Girl Of The Week' - clad only in a thong and a toolbelt has to do with selling wood, beats me. However being a shallow and easily-bought kind of gal I soon realised that the rudey-doody site actually had the best prices. I was sold. So I called them and do you know - not only was the price excellent but the service and delivery was too. It just goes to show, never judge a website by it's homepage.

2 days later, 3 pieces of 4m oak arrived and were delivered into the house by the nicest delivery misters you could ever hope to meet. However Clever Doris, being all politically correct-like, strongly felt the need to share her observations of their website. They sniggered awkwardly, obviously having heard such feedback before. *Sack the web designer, thats what I say...

The 3 enormous chunks of wood needed 3 coats of Danish oil each side to be applied before fitting. I figured (via the medium of spreadsheet) that I could apply 2 coats per day, am & pm, flipping the wood over the following morning and repeating... This would take approx 10 days and required CD to do the morning oiling clad in dressing gown and rubber gloves.

The oak worktop was fitted by Mr Doris's brother (usefully, a carpenter) one saturday morning. For the price of a pint. It completely changed the feel of the room and made me quite tearful when I returned after a day out with the Young Clevers. The 3 chrome pendant lights (tip: odd numbers only - aesthetically more pleasing) were bought at the Habitat closing down sale for £1 each. The Smeg cooker was bought from Preloved and shipped on a pallet from Hampshire to Leeds. Organised by Mr Doris.

The flooring was just a karndean oak effect plank. I'd previously had light coloured flooring (2 boys=big mistake). The plinths were from ikea to tie in with the black gloss boiler cupboard (also from the Big Swedish One). Mr Doris built the tongue & groove cupboard to conceal the dirty great boiler.

As part of Team Doris's recycling ethos all offcuts were used. Open shelves and wine/tray rack (to fit that awkward gap left over) built c/o Mr Doris.

Wine rack not big enough though...

Oilcloth, left over from covering the open shelves, used to create placemats.

 Keyrack: knife & fork cupboard handles sourced by CD and made by Mr Doris, using offcut of worktop (see previous post). The oak upstands on the worktop were bought from the same 'bosomy website and again fitted by Mr D.

  

Clever Doris, lover of all things old, jolly and mismatched. Vintage crockery tends to be smaller than its modern counterpart, enabling one to monitor ones portion control. That's the theory anyway.

Full set of Le Creuset pans. £15, local charity shop. Very hardwearing yet heavy. I now have dinner lady arms.

Vintage enamel breadbin: a leaving gift from my lovely ex-colleagues. Right: a vintage ship's decanter (it's shape is designed to stop it from wobbling over on the high seas. Very useful for landlocked Leeds and a wobbly Doris).

A cork board made by CD using an old picture bought for £1. Ashamedly it didn't take long to collect the corks. Cake stand made using old plates, small glass bottles, araldite and lego. When covered with sweet treats it's a great centrepiece for the party table of any Young Clever.

Even more ashamedly we had enough corks left over to create this pan trivet, held together with cable ties.

Curtain.1940s style, made by CD, to disguise the ugly rusty-but-still-works-ok washing machine.

Dining room. Left: before - showing where the door used to be used to be. It was bricked up and replaced with a cupboard, using old doors we refurbished, built by Mr D. We now have somewhere to house the ironing board and really annoying big things like the mixer. Yay!

Left: before. Right: groovy 1950s style wallpaper by Sanderson. Rather expensive, hence 1 wall done only (although more than 1 wall would be an assault on the eyeballs wouldn't it?).

£2 chair and £10 bureau stripped and made good by CD.

  

In a previous life Clever Doris spent a few years painting portraits in acrylic on canvas for a living and therefore has a number of them all around the house, mainly of the Young Clevers.

One of Mr Doris's 2 only requirements: A Real Fire - for him to be all manly and have the excuse to chop wood and poke at. Marble hearth/back and pine surround: Ebay £40. Surround painted in Fired Earth Charcoal grey by CD. Infact CD did all the decorating, as Mr Doris "doesn't do decorating". Even the large sisal rug was purchased with the proceeds from the sale of an ipod.

So that's kind of it really, except to say all of this was done within 3 months, with 2 full time jobs and 2 kids. And all within the budget of £4,000. Suffice to say, and trying not to be too dramatic, the renovation has completely transformed the way we live in and navigate around the house. In fact most of our time is spent in here and we now feel that we are not all living separately and we're able to spend more time with the boys. 

Although maybe thats not always a good thing...!

Expectedly, it was hard work yet good for Mr D to flex his practical and muscly muscles and Clever D to flex her creative and frugal ones. Yet it needed doing greatly and if I recall accurately, I think we managed to spend only one evening having takeaway dinner on a school night because building work rendered it impossible to prepare food that day.

Admittedly the Young Clevers school lunches were often prepared in the bathroom.

Aren't we Clever...?

CD's most favouritest product design ever.

*Since writing this article I had a look at the 'ChippyKnockersDotCom' (Mr Doris's interpretation) website and Hey presto - no rudey doodiness at  all.

Maybe they took on board the sage advice of Clever Doris in the end.