I hope that sewing isn't like riding a bike. Because if they tell you that you can't forget how to ride a bike: all lies. Bold, barefaced lies.

Because of course we never looked for my mother's glasses after she decided to try out my new bicycle. It was autumn, all these lovely leaves everwhere and she took a dive into the biggest heap of them. Needle in a haystack anyone? That was the first (and the last) time I saw my mother on a bike. (She was okay, nothing hurt but her pride and the brake lever of said bike).