On the Eighth Day of Christmas

I have a very artistic friend called Juju, she's actually called Julie but as always your children call them something odd and it sticks.
We met 27 years ago when she and her husband bought the terraced cottage adjoining ours and we all set about the shared business of renovation on a shoestring budget but with a vast amount of enthusiasm, fun and laughter.
The day we discovered our original stone built fireplace nestling behind the 1950's tiled one and called them in to see it, they grabbed the hammers and discovered theirs 30 minutes later.
Mr JuJu however renovated with gusto and panache, so the day she went out leaving him to just remove some old units from the  kitchen, located in the old wash house extension, and returned home to find he'd got bored and knocked down the entire extension too was an interesting one.
Juju, a graphic designer by training, used to and probably still could make her own stencils and this was one she did onto fabric for me to quilt.
Sometimes the simplest things are often the most effective and this one probably says all that needs to be said about friendship and never fails to remind me of those days.
Another piece that keeps its "specialness".
PS Bookhound has just reminded me, before Juju had even arrived home, that demolished extension had been barrowed straight in through our window as hard core to fill in the rotten floor we'd just dug up. What was decent wood left over from our floorboards we then made into very rustic kitchen units, oh yes those were indeed the days.