People sometimes ask me why I do workshops.

“You can already sew” they say, “so why do you need to go to a sewing workshop?” These, I hasten to add, are usually people who don’t know me very well and who don’t go to workshops themselves.

One thing they fail to grasp is that however much you sew, or otherwise create, and however hard you work to perfect your techniques, there is always more to learn.

But the best workshops do more than teach a skill or technique. And they are also more than just an excuse for a pleasant chinwag, with cake thrown in.

I went to my second workshop at Hope and Elvis on Saturday. (You may remember that the previous one I went to was with Jess Quinn, just over a year ago.)

I was inspired to book myself a place on one of Mrs Bertimus’s shindigs having heard others tell of her loveliness, charisma and ability to inspire.

All of which mean that her workshops sell out almost as soon as they are announced.

It took me two goes to bag a place, so the level of anticipation was high.

And let me say, it didn’t disappoint.

Hope and Elvis is the very best kind of creative space.

There are inspiring bits and bobs squirrelled away on shelves and inside vintage cabinets and cupboards, and spilling out of baskets and boxes, all over the place. There are big tables and chairs with comfy padded seats and nice tablecloths.

There is amazing art on the walls…

And then, in the middle of all that, there is Mrs Bertimus. Who is definitely the most generous tutor I have ever met.

And I don’t just mean because of the homemade cakes and little presents she provides for everyone…

Mrs B sort of bubbles with enthusiasm and inclusivity.

She doesn’t lecture or pontificate, she just shares her energy and skills and experience with the whole room in such a way that you can feel it sinking in and lifting you up, a bit like that part with the fizzy lifting drink in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. (Only without the horrid bit at the end, where they nearly get chopped up by the ceiling fan. And then get shouted at by Willy Wonka.)

You feel… and normally I hate this word and therefore don’t use it lightly… empowered, rather than taught.

And then there is her work, which is just gorgeous and so very her.

A scrap of paint, a stitch of embroidery, a smidge of technical know-how and a sliver of colour-wisdom…

And before your very eyes, Mrs B transforms little random morsels of vintage lace, old blanket, photocopies, acrylic paint, sellotape and elastic bands into wonderful art.

It seems insufficient to say that I came away inspired.

Buzzing, more like.

I’ll show you what I made, and what I bought, tomorrow.

And for those of you who don’t get the workshop thing, I hope that sort of explains it a little.

That’s why I go to them anyway. ♥