If you take the train to Chichester and turn right, out of town, instead of left to the cathedral centre, you will eventually come across this unassuming warehouse. Travelling hours by boat and train to reach the eternal maker seems perhaps a little overly keen; that is, until you walk inside. After getting lost in its aisles of fabrics, rich colours just asking to be stroked, you’ll understand its cult following.
I found this place a year ago. The spoils of the previous trip have all been stitched in to bags, cushions and sundries, so a return trip was called for. And who more appropriate to go with than my mum, who started me on this crafty adventure back in childhood days of summer dresses, handmade dolls, and satin cushions (it shocks me now to recall how much I loved the colour pink!)
I had no specific project in mind so we filled our hands with bundles from their baskets of fat quarters and marvelled at the patterns: A deer wearing spectacles! A mustard yellow bird! A frog prince! All highly practical, of course.. So, I spent too much, as expected, and carried home a bag of brilliant colours. Now I have no excuse not to get stitching.