When I was at school, each item we sewed had to be perfect.
I hated sewing, learned little, and struggled to complete my work.
Then at home, my Mum taught me to sew. She insisted on perfection, and made me tear out all my stitches if they were not perfect.
Finally, one day I stopped her. I told her that there was nothing wrong with those stitches. The work did not have to be perfect.
We were sewing a quilt. It was large, made of many patches, and we would never finish it at this rate.
I persuaded her, and unwillingly, she agreed.
We sewed the quilt, and no-one noticed the imperfections.
making something that is perfect, or enjoying ourselves, having fun?
Should sewing be about chatting, laughter, making a present with smiles and a full heart,
or hard work and tears, because it is not perfect?
I have sewed many things, and none of them were perfect, but I wanted to use colour, enjoy myself, listen to the radio.
And, the thing is, no-one ever noticed the mistakes.