So now for the felting bit. It seems that a lot has been happening in my felting world as well as family life. I spent seven weeks in Australia over Christmas without being able to do any textile stuff at all and then came home raring to go, but the cold has kept me away from my 10ft by 6ft shed (sorry no metric yet) in the garden. However I have been tempted out there as the snowdrops began to emerge from the frozen ground.
One of the things I disliked was needle felting. I don't know why. Maybe it's the needle stick wounds that my hands are covered with, but I have decided that I have to suffer for my art. The trick is to keep my eyes focused on what I am doing and not be distracted by that sweet little robin singing to me from the tree outside my shed, or the helicopter circling for the third time up above me.
It all started with a mouse, a little mouse in my new kitchen. I thought I had managed to seal up all holes, cracks, crannies etc but I hadn't realised that the plumber had made a whacking great hole in my kitchen wall from my utility room and not filling it in.
The little mouse came in, liked what he saw and decided to stay. How long he had been there is anyone guess but much as I like mice (and I do, I do) I decided that my new kitchen was not the place to make his home. We tried to catch it with tempting peanut butter and cheese but he managed to lick it off and scarpered. The hole was filled in and the mice went or maybe it was the other way around.
This must have set up something in my brain because soon I was hatching out these little guys using the dreaded needle felting technique. And now I'm getting to like it more.