I’ve been back a week from a work trip, and — as I often do after a busy
period — I’ve been taking stock of what I need to do next and refining my
systems a bit. Cynics might argue that this is either procrastination or yak
shaving (and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong), but when I have been at full
stretch at work I do find it helpful to have a period of sorting out the mess
that I had to let accumulate, to tie up loose ends and to plan the next bit of
work.
I am spending more and more of my time in Emacs for all things, so I wanted to
refine both my agenda and journalling setup.
Last weekend I finished drafting a pattern for a simple sleeveless top and
then sewed up the pattern. It turned out pretty well in the end, but it wasn’t
without a bit of drama.
If you follow me over on Micro.blog you may have seen this post a couple of
weekends ago. I had decided to try to make a dress using instructions from one
of the Pattern Magic books by Tomoko Nakamichi. As if that wasn’t daunting
enough, I decided to make it out of a sentimentally special fabric, and for a
special event happening the next weekend. Sewing isn’t (usually) an adrenaline
sport, but it was quite a nerve-wracking experience, but one which happily
worked out well in the end.
This week, I have found myself fixing things, completing jobs that have been
languishing for too long in my ‘todo’ pile. In the process, I have been thinking
about the importance of choosing the right tool for the job.
I have been looking for a treadle cabinet for my Singer 201K for a while. The
electric motor is perfectly fine, but I was curious to see what it would be like
to power it entirely with my feet. A cabinet or table would also mean that I
could store the machine in the table, and when using it, the bed of the machine
would be flush with the table surface, which is ergonomically much better, and
means you have more control over the fabric as it goes under the presser foot. I
have a dual-purpose machine/cutting table for my modern Janome machine, which
fits in a cutout in the table with a perspex insert. I have found that
flush-mounting the machine in this way has made my sewing more accurate. Anyway,
to cut a long story short, I found a beauty of a cabinet and a lovely vintage
machine into the bargain. Read on for all the details!
I’ve become obsessed with a wonderful series on BBC Two called The Repair Shop.
The rationale behind the series is simple: members of the public
bring their worn or broken treasured items to the team of restoration experts
based at the Weald and Downland Museum in Sussex, and the team repairs and
returns the item. They accept a huge variety of different items, from clocks and
furniture to teddy bears, barber poles, typewriters and even antique pinball
machines. There’s a core of experts, but they also bring in specialists to deal
with particular items. The items tend not to have much monetary value (this is
not The Antiques Roadshow), but they have immense personal or emotional value to
the people who bring them in. The programme airs early on weekday afternoons, so we
have to record it, but I can’t tell you what a wholesome, life-affirming tonic I
find it. The more episodes you watch, the more fascinating it becomes.
You might notice a bit of a change to the appearance of the pages around here.
I’ve changed the way that I define how the fonts are rendered, and in the
process I have switched the fonts that I use. I had used Typekit for about five
years, which enabled me to select from a range of fonts and then easily include
them in my CSS file with a bit of Javascript boilerplate. It was a nice system,
though it did generate a bit of overhead on page loading. Nevertheless, I was
quite happy with it. Then Adobe acquired Typekit and doubled the annual
subscription rate. There’s now no limitation on how many fonts you use, but
given that I only need a handful at most, that doesn’t work in my favour. So I
decided to ditch Typekit/Adobe Fonts and load some webfonts myself.
I’ve recently had another go at organising my settings files (‘dotfiles’) and
the way that I install command line applications and tools. It started out highly
sophisticated (Nixpkgs and Home Manager), and then reverted to much simpler but
more maintainable system (Homebrew and Stow). It has been an interesting and
intermittently frustrating process, but I’ve ended up with a system that I like
and understand.
The inevitable wheel of Emacs life has circled back again, and — as the title
suggests — I have moved back to Doom Emacs. When I last wrote about my Emacs
configuration, I was trying to move away from frameworks (including Doom), and
to set up my own configuration from scratch. It was a really fun process, and I
think a necessary one for me to really understand how to configure and use
Emacs, and the way that all the moving parts fitted together. However, I have
recently overhauled my whole command line setup (again… more on this later),
so I got curious to try out Doom again. It was always a great project, but in
the time since I last used it Henrik Lissner has polished and improved it even
more to the point where it is a really fast, slick and easy to use framework.
I might not have written much about sewing recently, but that doesn’t mean I
haven’t been sewing. I’ve made a few things that I haven’t got around to
blogging about, but a few weeks ago, I finished a pair of Persephone Sailor
Pants (a pattern by Anna Allen) which I’m really pleased with. However, the
making was not without incident. Part of my reason for writing this is so that I
might remember not to be such a blithering idiot in future.
