it's my birthday today. this time last year i was in venice, at the cafe where byron had breakfast, toasting myself with glacee chestnuts. this year i'm in my own little (rented) place (that i share with badly coloured boy), but closer to friends and family. and my new baby. this is mathilda:
she's a bernina 830, bought second-hand to celebrate the anniversary of my birth. the exact same model as my mum has (coincidence. the first second hand bernina we could track down). together we've learnt buttonholes, and tested all the embroidery stitches. in short, everything mum told me not do until i had mathilda serviced. tomorrow me and Tildy are going to try and sew another Simplicity 4111.
and, just as i sat here typing this, badly coloured boy handed me his gift - a copy of this. it's been so long since i've had an art book, and this is just so inspiring. it reminds me of so much i'm forgetting - delacroixe vs david. courbet and the birth of modernism. see, i actually have a degree in art history. i just don't use it for anything other than lecturing bored acquaintance and feeling superior.