An Englishman in Copenhagen
A button fell off my favourite top the other day, reminding me I can’t sew.
I felt utterly desolate for a while. And then I realised I had other tops.
And that maybe it was time I learnt to sew anyway.
Brilliantly written!!!! No worries…I can’t sew either.
My gran could sew, she made me a patchwork quilt ten years ago which, of the few things I own, is the only thing of any importance.
She stitched my name into a corner on the underside. It’s all I have left of her, with the exception of a few photos, and my memories.
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