There is a story to my trusty Husqvarna. Long, long ago when I was twenty years old, I was working in a lovely shop to pay off the overdraft I had accumulated from my first two years studying at University. There used to be a fabric shop on George Street, just along from the corner of Hanover heading towards Arthur Barnett's. I found some great woven cotton material there, and bought one of my first ever sewing patterns. Anyway, I digress. The sewing machine was lent to me by my boss, Margaret, a lovely lady who had been recently widowed. I can't remember how I asked her, or the exact circumstances.
This machine has been an absolute treasure - I have sewed the toughest denim, and thick canvas. I made about 3 linen straight skirts, then about 4 or 5 A-line skirts, I have zig-zagged the edges of metres of polar fleece to make baby blankets and bunny rugs. It does struggle with chiffon and fine fabric, but that could also be that I did not use right stitch length or needle, so I accept 50% blame. I made several cushion covers and a roman blind (which did not work properly). It is so heavy to carry that when it had to go to be serviced I had to carry it like a baby in my arms from the carpark and I nearly fainted! Several people have told me "they don't make them like that any more" and thats the main reason I am loathe to get a new machine.
My dear, dear friend who gave me this machine on "long term loan" still asks about my sewing exploits. I meet up with her and the other ladies who worked in the shop about every 3 months of so, for a ladies lunch. The Husqvarna is my enduring connection to her and her kindness.