An important button had gone missing on my new coat. And I managed to find a non essential one from elsewhere on the coat and sew it to the essential place. It took a good long while. First I had to manage to retrieve my sewing box from the back of the wardrobe. Then I had to locate a suitableish colour of thread. Then find a needle threader, a needle and a pair of scissors.
Then came the 10 minutes it took to get the needle threader through the eye of the needle (for the challenged of hand / fingers, threading a needle with cotton is on a par with passing a camel through a needles eye; the needle threader makes at least the first job somewhat easier!) I had to then tie a knot in the end of the thread. Once upon a time, this was simple, nowadays it took another 10 minutes.
Then I was armed, button, coat, needle with needle threaded and end knotted, all ready for action. It then only took me another approx 20 minutes to painstakingly (literally, there are one or two tiny drops of blood on said coat but I doubt they’re obvious) sew the button to the coat.
I then had to return all items back into the sewing box and stuff it back in the wardrobe for the next time I have an hour or so and the energy level necessary to do such an arduous task!
In actual fact, I noted that the reel of thread I used today was bought to make a truly vile blouse as part of my needlework O level, for which I got an A. I went on to make loads of clothes, curtains, all sorts of things.
It’s a great shame my hands are as crappy as they are today, but at least I can sew on a button. Which is more than my able bodied husband can do. Hah!
I can’t sew buttons on anymore. But I did hem one leg of my 11 year old’s school trousers a fortnight ago. We were in somewhat of a hurry but both very slow at sewing so we each hemmed a leg, at the same time.
Congratulations! I cannot sew on buttons any more I’m afraid - hands don’t work well enough. I try to hand shirts in for repair with the air of someone who is just too rich/important/loftily engaged in work vital to the UK economy to be bothered with such things as the sewing on of buttons, but I doubt whether anyone is convinced. It is strange to me that, of all the things I cannot do any more, that is one that I feel particularly uncomfortable about. It just seems so daft to be not able to sew on a button - one feels like a pitiable figure of fun, like a person who cannot boil an egg.
Oh Carole, you gotta Google “singing swede”! It’s fantastic. Do-able in microwave, where it “sings”, then when cooked you just slice off the top and scoop out the cooked innards, like a boiled egg. Never wrestle with a raw one again.
I was never domesticated in the first place so I can honestly say I don’t miss those things but I do miss even being able to walk out of the front door on my own without help from my partner and being able to go shopping on my own as have to be pushed round in my wheelchair but I have to say when me and my partner do go out its like a scene from little Britain where Matt Lucas is in the wheelchair. Well it gives us a laugh anyway.
Well done we could say one button at a time l had a hole in glove finger very cold l manage to sew it took about a hour as you say time to find the cotton then thread needle but l did it brill l use to hand sew patchwork quilts not any more regards Jan xx
Thanks all for your words of encouragement. As you say Jan, one button at a time. It’s just nice to do one tiny thing for myself and not have to either a) ignore the missing button (OH suggestion) or b) ask someone else to do it (ie next door neighbour, a friend or a random passerby).
For my next feat, I shall attempt to do up the button I sewed on!!!
If I need to wear a shirt (for an occasion) I have a brilliant hook thingie which means I can do some buttons for myself without having to ask for help. Woohoo
Button fly jeans are officially evil for the digitally challenged (is me) I am developing an uncool habit with trackkie bottoms or Velcro controlled trousers…
After actually i spent 10 years in a wheelchair, and once again I try to learn to walk… I feel about the same. Yes, I do not run; yes, my steps crooked and askew; Yes, I go only with a cane and not far. Anyway, these are my steps, one who has spent a third of his life sitting
