Re-lining a Sewing Box

"Enjoyed yourself at Wonderwool, Beaut?"
My companion, Elinor Gotland, hadn't waited for an invitation to go nosing through my shopping bags full of lovely new yarn and fibre. I finished wiping the dust and dirt off the most precious of my purchases.
"I always think Wonderwool won't be as good as it was last year, but every year, it just gets better." 
"And every year you go further over budget. That old box must have cost a fair bit more than the vintage rug bodger you came home with last time."
"This is a cantilevered sewing box trolley. It's priceless. The stuff of dreams."

I squirted a drop of oil into each castor and spun the wheels. 
"I've wanted to own something like this for nearly fifty years. I remember asking for a cantilevered sewing box for my tenth birthday and having to plaster on a happy smile when dad gave me a plastic tool box. To be fair, it has hinged trays that rise up when the lid is opened and I do still use it, very handy for keeping scissors and pins, but it's never been an object of beauty and it isn't nearly big enough. Once I've given my new sewing box a polish, it will be a marvel of utility and authentic art deco ornament."

"More like a marvel of 1960's repro, Beaut. Its original features include a salmon pink nylon lining - bit of a giveaway."
"Elinor, no!"
Too late. My companion had already stripped off the tasselled braid, torn out the lining and was inspecting the base of the box.
"As I suspected, vintage hardboard. Never mind, it'll fit in the sitting room, hold your knitting and you can stand a mug of tea on top." 
"My lovely sewing box!" 
It is difficult for Elinor to look sheepish.

"Come on, Beaut. Best we replace that nylon with some of your nice natural fabric."
I followed her upstairs. 
"Silk would be too thin, wool would collect dust and cotton is just ordinary and uninspiring."
"How about this silk and linen blend?"

Elinor pulled out the legs of a pair of trousers that I had unpicked and contact dyed with weld plants a couple of years ago. The fabric was just wide enough to cover an oblong of card the size of the base of the box. All very neat and professional. Using a hot glue gun to stick the other leg to the sides of the box, I burnt my thumb and welded a fold of fabric into a hard lump.

"Oh I've ruined it now." I slumped down to examine my blistered thumb.
"Don't forget you need braid to go round the top, that'll cover a multitude of sins." 
So I crocheted a matching trim of pink yarn dyed with silver birch bark and green yarn, possibly dyed with birch leaves. Gluing that on with UHU was easy enough.

All that remained was to transfer the contents of my old plastic tool box, rediscovering in the process such lost treasures as an envelope holding locks of my children's baby hair from their first haircuts.
"Oh, yuck, how Victorian can you get? No wonder your old tool box was always overflowing with crap."
I took the envelope from my companion's hoof.
"I think I'll just tuck it away down at the bottom of the new box. That's not a problem, this sewing box trolley is so capacious, I've got plenty of room for everything."
"Everything? In that box? Really?" said my companion, swinging open the door of the sideboard ....