It’s a constant mystery to me why my Needlework ‘O’ level is a source of ridicule to the rest of the family. Unlike Maths or English it is either seen as a poor qualification or used against me when a tear on the tent can’t be mended easily or a button pops off at an inconvenient moment. So there are comments like – “Needlework ‘O’ level? Well, I’ve got my ‘sewing machine driving license’ ha, ha!” or “But I thought you had a degree in needlework!”
Despite all of this I did bring my sewing machine with me, because like Mrs Beaver in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, you never know when you’re going to need it. As it turns out it was this week.

Tonight I am off to the summer ball. It’s a bit sad, because a month into arriving here and I have been abandoned by my husband, who has disappeared to the UK on a ‘conference’ (yes, that’s what I thought!). So this evening I go, like Cinderella, unaccompanied to the ball. Except, I’m not going to look anything like Cinderella because it’s fancy dress and it’s a ‘Heroes and Villains’ theme. This brings us neatly back to the sewing machine – how could I create the necessary accessories for my costume without it?
What to wear? What to be? These questions were solved fairly quickly by seeing what I already had in the house… or what someone else had infact.
Found: 1 cowboy hat, 2 pairs of cowboy boots, 1 yellow check shirt, 1 red neckerchief, 1 leather belt, various jeans and sorts of denim options…. job done. I’ll be a cowboy hero then – infact a cartoon cowboy hero – Woody, from Toy Story. All I needed to complete this was a cowhide waistcoat and a gun and holster.

‘Adventure One’ begins as we head off to the notorious material shop in a secret location in a nearby town in search of cowhide….or something similar. This journey took us through the amazing network of little back streets, with dusty shops of all kinds and simple street bars and fruit stalls and hundreds of plain mainly single-storey buildings in terracotta and beige.  Junctions weren’t obvious and the main road was hard to distinguish. Everywhere was dust blown and dry. We eventually turned right as the buildings thinned out and a massive mosque loomed in front of us. In contrast to the poor and dusty buildings around it was gleaming in the sunshine with two peerless white towers reaching into the blue morning sky. Behind a dilapidated warehouse block was the entrance to the Aladdin’s cave of material shops, inside it was quite dark, which we later discovered was due to a power cut. Rolls and rolls and more rolls of material were packed into a massive warehouse from floor to ceiling. There was even a mezzanine floor above also lined with more bundles of fabrics and quilts. Some rolls were stacked upright, others in piles on their side and there was every conceivable kind of material you can think of from Sanderson look-a-likes to sofa upholstery fabrics and draylon, to nets of every colour and shade, bright coloured cotton curtain fabric in spots, stripes, floral or animal print and even some Turkish rugs rolled in one corner. If we were looking for plastic coated fabric there was a wider selection than I have seen anywhere or if you were into making soft toys there was fur fabric galore.

The shop owner appeared around the corner of one corridor of fabric rolls as we both stood open-mouthed taking in the vast array of materials towering above us. Tall and slim and with a cigarette draped from his fingers, he was dressed in a dark blue vest and open shirt and gave us a happy grin, shaking both our hands. I explained I was looking for cowhide and he beckoned us to follow…a few minutes later I had two rolls to choose from and it was job done for 5 euros.  It seemed incredible that like those people with awfully messy desks, in the chaos of the material stacks he knew exactly where to find the design I’d asked for. Was there a system, or did he just have a very good memory of where he had put things?

After a minor fight with the sewing machine, which seemed to have some technical issues to do with bobbin winding which I won’t go into, a little black and white waistcoat has been created. Cinderella you shall go to the ball! And although I go alone, I have warned my absent husband, that if I find another Woody I’ll be sticking with him for the evening – what are my chances?