06/08/2026
For my 50th birthday earlier this year, I wanted to make a celebration quilt. It’s very, very loosely inspired by Tracey Emin’s much more complex and impressive blankets.
I’ve been doing a bit of simple patchwork recently, so I decided to make a temperature blanket. I’ve written a blog post about how I created it, along with some templates if anyone fancies making one themselves. The link’s in my bio.
Here’s the finished topper, photographed in . I’d grossly underestimated just how busy and windy the beach would be, so we ended up at instead, which feels rather fitting because it was such an important place to me growing up.
Back then it was called Bembom Brothers, and we’d clip coupons out of the Kent Messenger that included train fare and entry for £5. We’d spend the whole day joining the queue over and over again for the Looping Star and the Mary Rose (a pirate ship that swung right over), never once feeling sick. These days I’d barely make it through one ride.
It felt right to photograph the blanket in Margate because some of my happiest memories— and one of my saddest—live there.
As a child, I loved everything about Margate: the beach, the penny arcade, the WWF and shell shop, hunting for yellow periwinkle shells along the tideline, the Wimpy that seemed to survive long after every other one had disappeared, and later, the best Laser Quest.
Then, eight years ago, we witnessed a beautiful little girl drown by the Harbour Arm. I was standing on it at the time, and it’s something I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life. I wish I’d noticed her sooner, even though no one did. RIP little one so sorry.💔
Anyway...back to the quilt.
Making it has been unexpectedly therapeutic. I’d always assumed I’d spent most of my life under a black cloud, but when I look at it, there’s so much more happy yellow than I ever imagined there would be.
Seeing it finished has been strangely healing. As I try to get my mental health into a better place without medication, I now have something tangible that reminds me that maybe—just maybe—my first 50 years haven’t been quite as dark as I thought they were.
