If I ever get the chance to learn something new I’ll choose dressmaking.

I am in awe of anyone who can take a piece of cloth, a needle and thread and make an item of clothing.

I’m one of those people who, given the right materials and environment (extra-large buttons, fat needle with giant eye, garment with old threads marking where to stick needle in, 1000watt lighting) can just about sew a button on.

Anything I want altering, I whizz down to Primrose, a lovely lady in the next village, who sits in her sewing room surrounded by draws of thread, needles and pins, and makes light of anything I give her.

“Oh yes, I can do that,” she will say, as I ask the seemingly impossible of a jacket three sizes too big for my teenage daughter.

“I’ll just nip in the shoulders, take in the sides and chop two inches off the bottom.”

A fortnight later, she has done what I would have thought impossible and a new jacket is born. Lacy prom dresses, silk wedding gowns — nothing fazes her. I can only sit and gawp in amazement.

With sales of machines rocketing, and TV programmes such as This Old Thing inspiring people to adapt clothes, more and more people are having a go at DIY fashion.

I’d love to learn but, sadly, I suspect that skill with a needle and thread is similar to musical ability — you’ve either got it or you haven’t. And I’m afraid I haven’t. At school I was hopeless, making a blouse that resembled a straitjacket, and attempts to make fancy dress clothing when my children were young were laughable.

I’m hopeless but I desperately want to learn both sewing and knitting. One of my neighbours, Margaret, gave an old and much-loved woollen cardigan of mine a new lease of life after a miraculous, almost invisible, knitting repair. I was amazed. What satisfaction people must feel when they can do such things.

Maybe if I sat down every night and practised I’d get better. I often wonder whether hopeless sewers existed in the olden days, when that was all there was to do. Did the women of Georgian times pretend to be competent while sitting demurely with their samplers on their knees? Maybe their stuff was as bad as mine.

Sewing is so therapeutic. Sitting with a needle and thread making the most basic repairs, is the perfect way to relax.

When I have time I’m going to have another go. If you see me in a top that looks like a pillowcase you’ll know I’ve started.