Prettying up the prosaic

My crafty inclinations lately have leant towards repurposing neglected embroidery. Today's project was refurbishing my peg bag – a phrase that I realise might make me sound like some Martha Stewart wannabe domestic perfectionist, which I'm really, really not. However, I've had my old peg bag for several years and while it's perfectly functional, every time I hang my clothes out, one more tiny fraction of my aesthetic self despairs and dies. Mundane chores like washing should be jollied up as much as they possibly can, I reckon, hence my desire for a more pleasing peg bag than this one.

Before: plain, serviceable, dreary.

 Among my many unfinished craft projects is an embroidered tablecloth I started straight after either school or uni – in other words, a good long while ago. It had two bouquets of cross-stitched roses along each side, and the only thing I can remember about doing it was that I seemed to be at it for years, and it was tedious beyond belief. I finished six-and-a-bit bouquets before giving up about twenty years ago, having realised, I think, that even if I did finish it I was never going to use it as a tablecloth. It was another example of my tastes being much more nanna when I was young than they are now – and nanna in a daggy way, not in a cool, ironic, retro way.


So I decide to chop it up and give it a new life as a peg bag. I went slightly astray along the way – because I like doing things but not planning them, most of my projects are made in a fairly random and ad hoc way. So it was with this. I made a sort-of pattern from the old bag, but cut out the embroidered piece for the front of the bag before realising I'd positioned it so that the opening would cut away part of the embroidered design. That meant I needed to cut another piece. The binding and seams on the front needed to be unpicked and resewn at one point too – despite having the old bag right there, did I consult it for guidance? Did I bollocks.

But in the end it came together. I reshaped the top and used an old wooden coathanger rather than the nasty plastic number from the original bag. I even covered the wire hook with some bias binding (umm, what was I saying about not being an obsessive domestic perfectionist?). In fact I took a lot of care with the whole thing, despite generally being horribly impatient. Doing something properly, when I've got the time, ends up being so much more satisfying than just finishing it quickly.

After: bright, practical, bigger. And a bit nanna,
but in a good way, I think.

The final step was a rigorous pressing, because it's linen, which creases like a bastard. I'm rather chuffed with the result, and I'm sure washday will be a bit less dull with this hanging cheerily on the line.

And now it must be time to put a load of washing on.