Today I decided to work at home, safe in the knowledge that I would be able to achieve vast amounts of work as today is Sewing Machine Day.
Yes, today I would rapidly produce many wonderful but smaller versions of my chicken picture.
Or so I thought.
Of course it doesn't help that today is also Man Flu Day, so M is sniffing, sputtering, sighing heavily and generally putting me off in the room next door.
But I'm not blaming him. No, it's the sewing machine that is the butt of my wrath. It promises so much yet delivers so little.
In my head (that utopian world of longer legs, bigger bust, children who ask how my day has been and husbands who put their shoes away neatly in the cupboard), I could see myself happily hammering out chicken after clucking chicken, quickly building up a stock of lovely feathery cocks and hens.
But the blooming bobbin keeps jamming and the material is puckering and generally, it's not as productive a day as one could wish for.
Anyway, I will cluck off and persevere, maybe I will have something to show for al my efforts later.
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