With no interest at all in making lace, one day l took myself off to a lace making demonstration in a local village hall in the name of research.
I thought l would have a quick look at some old bits of lace and come away, but l was quickly presented with a block of polystyrene and a bouquet of prewound binche bobbins wrapped with a little ribbon. l sat next to a Honiton lace maker and nearly gave up then and there when l saw how delicate and tiny ‘proper’ lace really was, and all those narrow spindles!
Step by step, potential new lacemakers stabbed pins and chased bobbins about on the little blue pillows.
We made wobbly cross stitch bandages with varying degrees of success. Some of the ladies already crocheted, knitted, or tatted and so had some idea of what they were doing. This was a challenge to me, being more used to hammers and cameras (not necessarily together).
I displayed my first inch of lace proudly on the fridge door to show everyone who, understandably, were bemused why l made such a fuss over it. It wasn’t the physical thing l was proud of, it was the making of it, the learning of a new craft, and the happy start of a new obsession.
Lace making is full of stories.
There are the tales handed down from Grannies, bobbins inscribed with promises, pillows passed from knee to knee, donations passed to a lace group. If these things could speak, what tales would they tell? So many of us have beautiful preloved bobbins and lace making equipment and their stories are often lost to us.
We are creating our own lace stories for the future while saving those from the past. This time is a new chapter in the story of bobbin lace making.
