I think I may have mentioned that I keep many lists of projects - in my diary, on little bits of paper in my handbag, on a noticeboard in my study, and I have on occasion even discovered sad, crumpled little lists titled "ideas" in a coat pocket. Sometimes it takes me weeks or even months to start them, and often many, many months to complete. And sometimes it takes me years. Fifteen years.
I started this patchwork 15 years ago, without knowing anything about patchwork (I still don't know anything about it - there is so much more of a challenge in making something if you do not know what you are doing, don't you think?) I just cut out a lot of squares, hemmed them (I think that was a bad idea, because they all ended up being different sizes, although they were pretty even-sized when I started the whole damn project) and then proceeded to sew them together in long strips, which I eventually sewed together. That part of the process took me about two years. It was all crooked. I didn't even bother to get rid of the numerous bits of thread trailing all over the place. I draped it over a chair and there it remained for many years. People would frown at it and ask me accusingly: "Did you make that??" and when I peeped "Yes" they would say: "So when are you going to finish it?"
So last weekend I did. I cut the corduroy fabric (which I kept in a bag all these many, many years) for the backing and kind of hand-sewed the whole thing together with a little border to boot. I mean, I even used pins, the use of which to me signifies Serious Sewing ...
I think its crookedness adds to its charm.
But now that Anne has explained the difference between a patchwork and a quilt to me, I think I may want to quilt some of the squares to the backing. I just hope it doesn't take me another 15 years.