#And now, the end is near....

I posted a version of this a few days ago [while I was pissed] but took the post down after reading it again when sober. The gist of the original post was that David, my partner of fourteen years, and I, have split up. It wasn't a mutual decision, it was my choice. Based, I must admit, on David's actions but, my choice non the less.

All of this happened in December last year [2006] the 10th, to be exact, so I've now had the luxury of two Christmas's that I've not had to buy the bastard a present. That sounds a bit acrimonious, damn right! There was a bit of a truce back in May when we went on holiday together but that had been pre-booked, but other than that we keep up a sort of facade of amity when on public view in the pub. Outside of that, we don't speak much.

I think that most people know, although neither David nor myself run around telling everybody. There are some people [whom I won't name because Karl reads this and it will cause trouble] who, because they are a friend of David, think that they know more than they do. He doesn't. He also thinks he's being protective. He's not. Although there is some amount of animosity between David and I, it's nobody else's business and I'm not likely to start hacking him to death with an axe in the shower.....well, maybe! [joke]. I warned him yesterday that he needs to keep his thoughts to himself and today, overheard a little snipe as a walked past. Every dog has his day and I see mine trotting over the horizon.

Anyway, back to the matter in hand. David and I, or rather I, decided that we should split thing in a sort of 50/50 manner. He could keep the pub and I'd sell the house and keep the proceeds from the sale. It's a fine idea in principle but in practice, the housing market is very slow. This means that I still have to live here while the house is up for sale. The longer it goes on, the more acrimonious things become. It's now been over a year.

I'm due a pay rise in February [quite a substantial on too] this will mean that I can afford to move out of here and rent a place of my own even though the house may not be sold and I'll still have to pay the mortgage.

I'm counting the days!

Christmas Present

My mother worked in tailoring most of her life. There was a short hiatus during the war when she worked for AVRO, making aeroplanes, but then it was back to Montague Burton's, making jackets. She could sew most things but she could never put zips in jeans. "wait 'till your Aunt Nell comes, she can do zips". Nelly also worked at Burton's but she made trousers and, as a consequence, could put zips in trousers. None of this home sewing would have been possible without having a sewing machine.

Mam's machine squatted in the corner of the back room. A polished brown thing with a black cast iron frame, it fascinated me as a kid a because it had in its frame a large wheel, also cast iron. "You'll lop your fingers off on that thing, get away!" counseled Mam on finding me whizzing the wheel around.

This table is identical to the one Mam had.

This machine, a Singer, had had, at some point in its life, an electric motor fitted. This meant that to operate the machine, the treadle still had to be pressed [but not treadled] but had thus rendered the wheel redundant.

For some unknown reason, Mam decided that she wanted a more modern machine and got rid of the Singer in favour of a Japanese job. She rued the day and vilified this new machine every time she used it.

After she died, I inherited this machine.

Mam having taught me to sew, by this time I already had my own sewing machine, a 1908 Singer hand cranked, table top machine. It's a great machine and will sew anything. The Japanese job by comparison, is rubbish. I've only used it once and gave up half way through, going back to the Singer.

Last week, an acquaintance, knowing that I could sew, asked me if I wanted a sewing machine "It's very old" she warned. Having agreed to have a look I found that1. it wasn't very old but it was a Singer. It was made in 1949, just after Singer returned to making sewing machines having spent the war making machine guns. What was remarkable was that it was "brand new", never having been used. The bobbin case has no fluff inside it and it still bears traces of light machine oil on its other parts.

So, much to David's disgust, as a Christmas present to myself, I'm attempting to buy a Singer table, just like the one that Mam had to keep it in. The "Japanese job" can then go to a more appreciative home.

Here are some pics of my new toy.

above: the bobbin winder, still showing the moulding

marks on the rubber wheel.

above: The working end, with Singer's trade mark decoration.

above: the worked end.

above: this was inside the outer case. The Sylko box contained the

various feet, the Oxo tins, spare shuttles.