Sewing on the go in Scotland
Upcycling a Bedford van into a mobile living space and design studio was the start of Mary Jane Baxter’s crafting adventure
In 2016, Mary Jane Baxter quit her job at the BBC, rented out her flat and headed for the hills. Her home for the next few months was an upcycled 1986 Bedford Bambi campervan with a top speed of 60mph.
She raided skips for vintage wallpaper and scoured secondhand emporiums to source stylish vintage accessories, creating her own travelling craft studio, packed with everything necessary for crafting on the road.
She then set off around Europe searching for inspiration, travelling from Belgium down to the Cinque Terre in Italy then around France and up to Scotland. Below is an extract from her adventures:
My journey continued down the Strath Vagastie road. The lush green valley that I’d been driving through eventually gave way to woodland, which soon became rather unlovely.
Deforestation had left nasty scars, with felled trees, withered stumps and broken branches all creating the impression of a post-apocalyptic landscape. I carried on, feeling rather weary, finally seeing a sign for the Woodend Caravan Site, which took me down a small road about two miles off the main route. It was cold and drizzly and still only about 8pm, which meant a long evening ahead in the middle of nowhere.
The site consisted of a couple of very large fields and a functionallooking wash block. There was just one other visitor, a caravan parked way over in a lonely corner. I pulled up and followed the home-made sign to the reception desk, which was situated in the glass conservatory, a new addition to the traditional stone farmhouse. A smart elderly lady dressed in a satisfyingly oldfashioned jumper and reassuring tweed skirt appeared from a side door and informed me that it would cost £8 to stay the night.
I couldn’t argue with that – in fact it was the exact amount of cash I had left in my purse. Indicating the near-empty field she told me (without a hint of irony) that I could park anywhere I liked, so I got back into Bambi and drove onto the grass to find a suitable place to pull up. Moments later the rain started in earnest, quickly turning from a mild shower to a torrential downpour.
Even heading outside to the loo a few metres away left me soaked through. Even the view was a bit miserable. Loch Shin was a damp smudge through the window and the signs of further deforestation on the other side of the shore didn’t exactly lift the spirits. I thought back to my night on Durness beach and wished I was still there. How quickly things can change. Ebb and flow. Ebb and flow. I wrote up my diary until it got dark and then turned in early for the night, putting on several layers, including a Shetland cardigan and three tartan blankets. Scotland in the summer.
I slept reasonably well in spite of the cold and damp, and by the time I surfaced it was getting on for nine o’clock in the morning. The sun was peering through the clouds and I felt a bit perkier. I decided to bypass a cooked breakfast and opted instead for a big mug of milky coffee brewed in my trusty Italian stove-top espresso maker. I paired the coffee with a peanut Tracker bar (my latest discovery), and soon I felt ready for the road again. It hadn’t been the most memorable of stopovers, but the campsite had been clean and
She still loved making things and had continued sewing for pleasure
well kept. I had no real need to go and see the lady in the farmhouse, as I’d already settled up with her the night before.
But something made me hesitate about driving off without saying goodbye. It was one of those spur-ofthe-moment decisions that brought unexpected rewards. Cathie Ross, who was 82, turned out to be an excellent seamstress, a fact I only discovered once she’d glimpsed Bambi’s home-made interior and recognised a kindred spirit. Like so many women of her generation, Cathie had clothed all four of her children herself by sewing, knitting and crocheting every single item in their wardrobes. Although she’d stopped doing that many years ago, she still loved making things and had continued sewing for pleasure all her life. She’d recently turned a decent profit at the village hall from her handmade aprons, bookbags and peg bags. With a burst of enthusiasm, she disappeared back to the house to fetch some of her creations to show me.
She came back with a box full of neatly packed items, which she dismissed as ‘being silly little things she just ran up for the sale’. They were, in fact, all beautifully made. Her peg bag (which had been constructed to resemble a small dress) reminded me of one I’d found at the flea market in Brussels. Soon Cathie was searching for a pen, newspaper and scissors to draw her peg-bag pattern for me and together we cut one out. She then went to rummage around for something else and returned with a length of tartan, unpicked a stitch at a time from an old kilt and pressed to perfection by her daughter-in-law.
Cathie had used some of the same fabric to make a very posh peg bag, which she’d fashioned into a mini Highland outfit, complete with a sporran sewn from scraps of leather. This grand creation had been sent all the way to Australia as a gift. Cathie kindly offered me what was left of her tartan as well as the paper pattern. I was incredibly touched and gave her one of my books in return. I finally waved goodbye to Cathie an hour later than I’d intended and drove back to the main road. It had been such a lovely encounter, particularly as it had followed such a dreary night.
There are rich seams of creativity to be found in the most unexpected of places. Cathie had greeted me with such generosity of spirit.
I hurtled towards Inverness and onwards towards Montrose, mindful that I had to get back there in time to clean my brother’s house for the arrival of imminent guests. The mountains rolled by, mellowing as I made my way further south, passing Bridge of Avon, Glenlivet, Cock Bridge and on through the Cairngorms National Park, which was peppered with out-of-season ski stations. The roads felt very quiet. I’d stupidly forgotten to top up with fuel and the needle was quickly nudging towards empty. Did I never learn? It was sheer luck that I spotted a sign to Aboyne where I sputtered into a petrol station, the tank almost dry. I motored on, following the glens where I used to go swimming as a child, until I reached Fettercairn and the Cairn O’ Mount viewpoint. From there I could marvel at the parcelledup farmland spread out like a patchwork blanket before dipping away into the sea. A never-ending bolt of fabric in myriad shades of grey, green and blue.
Sew on the Go: A Maker's Journey by Mary Jane Baxter is published by Unbound on Thursday, priced £16.99