Ailing Messalina

Returned from London, after a fantastic couple of days. Best Friend’s family are absolutely lovely, and were both willing to let us trail around the shops endlessly, having bolts of silks brought to us to sample, eventually cutting about thirty between us, and incredibly understanding that we were completely exhausted by this and were going to sleep for the rest of the day in our room rather than being decent company. They were also good about, when the topic inevitably turned to EDS, not opining, and just letting us share or not share as we felt up to it. And, best of all, when one or other of us lost a limb, they asked if we needed help, but acceped that we could help each other better than an outsider could.

Of course, after the four-hours-each-way car journey, I am now wrecked. Even though I was fast asleep for the whole journey each way due to the delightful effect of the cinnarizine, I was still curled up in the foetal position for four hours, unable to stretch out or turn over. Today my spine is capital fucked, my hips won’t stop twitching, and three days without laxatives has had the expected effect.

The headline, though, is still that I now have three metres of lime green silk chiffon which doesn’t so much look like fabric as like a glitch in the fabric of reality, and which feels like the memory of waking up in clean sunlight next to a long-desired lover. It’s amazing, and I have no idea what to make from it.

There is a distinct possibility that I may just pile up all the fabrics (Dupion, satin, chiffon, brocade, all silk of course) and roll around in them naked whilst making gleeful little “Mine! All mine!” noises.

This also seems to have broken my bad streak on sewing – Having not made anything at all since last May, I took out the kit of parts I’d made up for a waistcoat some time in 2013, which I’d last even tried to work on during my last holiday as a hand-sewing project (I didn’t even start), and put it all together in an afternoon. All that’s left is the buttonholes and hand-sewing on the buttons themselves – Fifteen of them, one every inch, tiny little brass flowers. It’ll be lovely.

So, things are looking up.

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13 thoughts on “Ailing Messalina

    • If they give points for enthusiasm over technique, I’d probably win.

      And the title is from a list of marriages collected by Anton Gross-Hoffinger in the 1840s, most of which seemed to be horrible. The happiest ones were the ones where both partners were debauchees, and that was one of the descriptions.

  1. Percy, I might comment more later, but it sounds as though in PG Wodehouse’s words you were ‘on velvet’. Indeed I am most surprised that some silk velvet did NOT make into your pile of luxury textile purchases. Now rolling in THAT naked would be quite something!!!!

    BF’s family sound like the bees’ knees πŸ™‚

    • PS I am so jealous of the elegance of your expression here:

      “Never mind forgiving sins, I downright encourage them.”

      Great one-liner. I feel Noel Coward would have approved. πŸ˜‰

      • I doubt I’m the first to say it – I’m just amazed that *that* was the post that the spambot found to comment about Jesus Saving on. I’m pretty sure I’ve said and done far more sinful things than talking about my arthritic spine and popped kneecaps.

    • I am a happy happy boy πŸ™‚ There would have been silk velvet, but I’m actually still a bit terrified of working on something so tempramental and so expensive. Give me a year, and I’ll have my silver velvet smoking jacket with the collar facings made from duchesse silk cut from an obi.

  2. I can so see you in a smoking jacket, Percy. Reclining elegantly on a plum velvet chaise longue obviously.

    BTW absolute treat if you need to kick back and relax for a few days, Noel Coward’s diaries. Mike found the series for me. http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p02j6q0c. All three episodes, top notch. Radio 4 Extra at its best. πŸ™‚

    • That was an amazing post – I found myself nodding along and agreeing in a way that I so rarely do (You know me, always ready to pick a fight or start an argument). I’d never even heard of the term “Sick Rights” and that probably says how much of a suppressed sector we are, considering how much time I spend dealing with conversations about disability online.

      Thank you for linking – I’ve got a new blog to follow now.

  3. I’m a textiles enthusiast – tried to start a textiles/embroidery degree years ago but had to give it up as too ill. Anyway, your description of the lime green silk chiffon is spectacularly visceral. Did you teach yourself to sew?

    I love the impression I’m getting of your style too – I wish all men wore waistcoats and pocket watches and hats and braces (not the eds kind obviously, but I’m sure you can work them into the look with finesse πŸ˜‰) etc.

    Not surprised that the trip did you in but glad it was such a good one.

  4. Thank you πŸ™‚ I’d say I was self-taught, but that’d be a vile calumny against my best friend who’s really helping me to go from “I dabble” into “I made everything I’m wearing, other than the boots”. I’m still a bit short on confidence when it comes to going anywhere “dressed nice” (I tend to look less rakish and dashing and more like I’ve just lost my steam-engine) but I’m working on it – Of course, the rampant bendyhood is giving me more time to work on my wardrobe and less excuse to wear it.

    I’m always envious of anyone who can successfully embroider, though I could definitely see a textile degree being a double edged sword – More time to work on projects, but no leeway to just put them down when needed.

    Hope you’re well πŸ™‚

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