And here they are...
So far, so slow. And it got worse. Much worse.
I had a clear idea what to do with that upper right hand circle...this, to be precise...
And this is where it all went to hell in the proverbial handcart. Texture in the centre, I thought. French knots, I thought. Wish I'd left it well alone... Turns out, I used to be able to do French knots...and the first one turned out fine... but it was all downhill from there. I looked up my favourite stitch book, and followed the instructions and got another one out of six attempts. Then it was YouTube....no joy. Yes, I could see the woman demonstrating, doing beautiful stitches. I did exactly what she did, and got damn all. By this time, I was incandescent. Had the piece not had so much potential, I would have thrown it out the window and been done with it. However....
So I thought somebody might as well have a laugh out of it, and posted on FB. Yes, they laughed (and I'm very happy for them, I'd have laughed as well, had it not been two hours of my life I won't be getting back again...). And then someone said, Colonial knots. Three different someones, in fact. Reader, those kind women have changed my life. I will never again mess about with the French version. Here are the instructions I was sent to; do yourself a favour, go and have a look.
So... I now have a collection of knots...looks better in real life, to be honest, but hey. I wish I had put more space between the individual stitches, but it took so long to get the end result, I'm rather loath to unpick it. And when there was space between them, I'm not convinced it looked any better. Sigh.
But that's not all. I did a bit of work in another section...and then put the work down, so I could have a rest. Apparently that was an invitation to Merlin...
And this was bad enough...but this annoyed me...
Dammit, that paper is fragile. I remembered too late that it's easier to handle paper if it has a light interfacing attached (though not necessarily easier to hand sew, admittedly, which is why I didn't do it). And then, to add insult to injury, he started playing with the thread. Reader, I chased him. I've come to terms with cats sitting on my work, but that was a paw too far.
He got his own back, though. I must have left the thread on the sofa that night, as in the morning the ball was on the other side of the room...he (or Mollie, perhaps) had clearly had a great deal of fun winding it round the scratching post. Cats? Can't live with 'em etc.
More on this piece as it develops.
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