Menopause and Marbles

I know I meant to show you what the girls got up to at the classes this weekend, and I will, but you'll have to wait.

Before Christmas a friend, Debbie, commissioned me to make 3 baby quilts (one blue, two cream) for babies that were due this year.  I was to make the quilt and then, when the baby arrived, embroider their name onto the quilt and also onto a fleece blanket.

The blue one was the Pure Blue London bricks, and I'd finished one of the creams in a sort of orphan block-cum-vanishing 9 patch design that I was really pleased with (the other cream is still under construction as the baby isn't due for another month or so)

So the blue baby arrived - Edward - and I did his embroidery (forgetting to photograph his quilt, sigh,) and then one of the cream babies arrived, so I embroidered "Henry" onto his quilt and his fleece, and delivered them to Debbie

Nice name, isn't it, Henry?  Well I though so, shame his parents didn't think that - his name isn't Henry at all, never was, it's Harry

Hence the post title.  I'm experiencing one, and have totally lost the other.

I'm now frantically making another cream quilt, and have been to Ikea to get another cream fleece.  If you know of anyone having a baby called Henry I can sell you a quilt and a fleece blanket ready named!!! (what are the odds that the third baby will be a boy and they call him Henry?  Not too great :-(

Yes, it's OK to laugh!