Jun 03 2016
‘It’s the Singer, not the song…’
I remember years ago in our house when the Ma’ and the older sister used to be sewing up dresses for the younger sisters. The kitchen table had to be cleared off and wiped down before any paper patterns were taken out and laid on it. And of course there’d be bags of various material taken out from under the Ma’s bed. Blue material with white polka dots, white material with red stripes and long strips for making a waist band or a belt. The Ma’ would have her Button Box out as well. Now I can honestly tell you that us lads didn’t have a clue what this was all about, not even the Da’ could understand it. You didn’t need a hammer and nails or even a screwdriver to put it all together. And there’s the older sister holding a load of pins between her teeth and a quare looking scissors in her hand, it looked like it too had teeth. The younger sisters were all gathered around the table being initiated into this Secret Society of needle and thread, bobbins and buttons while us boys stood there and scratched our heads in wonderment. And there was the older sister laying material on the table and pinning it to some of the paper pattern like a surgeon in preparation for a heart transplant. But do you know what the gas thing is?…there wasn’t a word said between her and the Ma’, it was almost as if they could read each others thoughts. Then the cutting began. Well we’d never seen the likes of it before and the scissors snapping through the material like some oul mangie dog with a bone. There was bits flying here and there, littering the kitchen floor and the Ma’ telling the younger ones to pick up all the pieces and she’ll make buntings out of them later for hanging out our window for the May procession. Well in next to no time at all there was quite an industry going full blast. Then the sewing machine started off singing, ‘Jig a Jig’ as the older sister turned the wheel at the side and the needle started dancing up and down to the tune of the machine. It was pure magic to watch from the side-line as each individual piece of material was sewn into place and almost out of nowhere a beautiful little dress appeared. ‘Now…‘ says the Ma’ to one of the younger sisters, ‘…try that on for size and if it fits we can put a zip on it that I took off your old dress’. So that’s girls for yeah, multi-taskers they are, why didn’t they teach us boys how to do this sort of thing in school, I wonder?…