It’s done. Imagine me screaming quietly…
Look, it’s not as hideous as it would have been trying to hand or machine quilt through the fleece. And it’s been a valuable lesson in why NOT to use fleece for backing. But it wasn’t fun, as such. Each row of hexagons took half an hour. There’s a fair bit of my DNA in this quilt, in the form of weeny bloodstains where I stabbed myself with the needle. I accept that I’m clumsy, and that the needle is unusually sharp for one of this size, but even so, it started to get boring.
So, now all I need to do is cut the fabric strips for the binding, sew the strips together, and get cracking. There’s still the adventure of sewing the binding to the quilt because of the fleece, so I think I’m going to reverse my normal process, and sew the binding to the back and hem it down on the front. That way, the fleece is trapped between the binding fabric and the front fabric and won’t catch or creep. I hope. More on that tomorrow.
And that’ll be Isfahan done by the end of the week, and ready to tuck into my suitcase. Not one, but two quilts to hand over to my brother in the UK on our return journey. The Tree of Life for him, and Isfahan for Pa. Trying to get the Broken Bottles quilt for my lovely sister-in-law done too was never on the cards, but it’s close to the top of the queue when I get back, and will be mailed out to her by sea mail.
So now I’m going to soak my aching hands in hot water and ask the ever-obliging Husband for a cup of tea and a home made bickie.