How very lovely my dear

This Sunday saw The Stitchettes gather together in a garden in the sun.

You see Hull isn't really all that bad you know. I know this might be hard for some of you to believe, only hearing the absolute worst stuff about us. Yes we have a poor educational record, yes we are the most obese city in the country, yes we have the highest teenage pregnancy rate, yes we have horrific levels of unemployment.*

But did you also know we have a rather thriving middle class?

Seriously. There are posh people in Hull. I should know, I'm one of them.

Just to clarify, it is fairly easy to qualify as being posh - you just don't have to have a Hull accent. This is rarer than it sounds.

The middle classes do their best to cling together, although growing up I was well out of it. I lived in the east, most certainly not middle class territory. Much of the middle class can be found in The Avenues in the west of Hull, living in the rather fabulous massive houses down the leafy tree-lined streets. My Grandparents lived there and my Dad does now.

Every year there is an event called the Open Gardens. People can elect to open their gardens for people to come and have a jolly good nosey lovely, admiring wander around. To be clear, you don't get to tramp through people's houses to do this, you enter the gardens down passageways, you don't get lucky enough to have a proper good look.

Entrance to all the gardens costs £3 and the proceeds go to charity. When I was a young thing I have memories of Grandma and Grandpa opening their garden up and rather proudly trying to show people round it. I haven't been for so many years and I think I've been missing out.

This weekend, one The Stitchette's parents were opening their garden to the hordes and we decided to set up camp and stitch away to try and raise some more money for one of The Stitchette's upcoming trip to Ghana. We sat round a table, under the shade and stitched away for a few hours, I managed to almost finish a piece I'm doing for my sister (no pictures yet I'm afraid), and I felt good.

Really really good. I felt relaxed and happy and more content than I have done in a while. Things are very up and down at the moment, hopefully everything will even out once I'm completely moved out of the flat, so until then I kind of cherish these moments when I get a sudden realisation that I really did make the right decision and really couldn't feel any happier.

And, at that precise moment, any more middle class.

*there is a chance that these 'facts' are dubious. I could have done research but quite frankly couldn't be bothered. They are definitely things we have been accused of in the past though.

PS I hope it is clear that my tongue is very much in cheek at the moment.