Category: crafting

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Happy Days (Part 2)

In some ways these last few days have been quite idyllic. Wake up in sunshine, morning routine, breakfast in the garden – with su doku – blends effortlessly into sitting in the garden and crocheting, which blends into an afternoon of listening to the radio and crocheting, preparing dinner, eating dinner (sometimes in the garden), and watching telly for a couple of hours and crocheting, then listening to music and crocheting till it’s time for bed. Okay, yesterday I went to the shop, but that’s become more of a regular variation on the routine, rather than a major disruption.

These are the kind of summer days it’s easy to fantasise about in the winter, or on any cold, rainy or generally stressful days at any time of year, so I’m deliberately appreciating them and not taking them for granted.

The obsession with crochet could, of course, be something else, like reading, writing, su doku, gardening, cooking, weaving, cross-stitching, tapestry, jigsaws, drawing, painting, decorating, tidying… Why don’t I pour my heart and soul into any of those? It can be done, but at the moment I don’t feel drawn in any of those directions.

Is it because I find it easy? But that’s just practice. It doesn’t always work out. I’ve learnt to let it go, pull it down and try again, put it on one side and try something else, or shove it to the back of the cupboard and forget about it.

I guess that’s what I do with my writing as well – shove it to the back of the electronic cupboard and forget about it. And this morning it’s not working at all. The words don’t want to come. I am looking at specks of dust on my computer, looking out the window at the street (which still seems remarkably empty). Wandering round my head to see if I can pick up any scraps of thought that might be worth recording.

Emptying your head of thoughts is not a bad thing – I spend ten minutes every morning trying to do just that.

I’ve just remembered a moment from last night, just before midnight. I’d been sitting up too late crocheting and listening to music, and when I went into the kitchen, I remembered I’d left the door open for Miko, and she was still outside, so I stepped out into the garden. Despite the neighbours’ fairy lights and the still-illuminated windows, there was mystery out there, no moon (it’s too new) but a few stars in the stillness of the night air. I called her name, and heard her scraping the gravel before I saw her. It could have been any animal sound, but she came to me and jumped up into the patch of light on the steps and ran into the house. I thought of owls (though I hear none here in the town) and night and summer, and the cool air and the mysterious life of cats, and thought about a poem but it didn’t come.  

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Happy Days

I promise no politics today, not even by implication.

I’ve just been to Sainsbury’s. It was open this week (see last week), but there are orange barricades all along the edge of the pavement. There is a small gap, and it doesn’t go round the corner, so it’s open at the junction. Presumably there’s some highway work planned, but it does seem perverse that pedestrians are being funnelled along a narrow strip of pavement. The other shops on that stretch of road (barbers etc) are closed anyway, but it must be affecting that branch of Sainsbury’s.

I mentioned a while back that I’d lost my credit card, the one that gives me 1% cashback in the supermarkets. I eventually got round to ordering a replacement, and it came a few days ago, but after last week’s trip to Tesco where I spent over £50, and worked out on the way home that having to use the other card (which gives me 0.5% on everything) had cost me 28p. Today I had my new card, signed it before I left the house, then remembered in the shop that I needed to activate it online before first use. I tried doing it via the phone app, standing in a quiet aisle (they’re all quiet at 8.30 in the morning, but occasionally you see another person), but it didn’t give me that option, so I tried using the card anyway, and it was rejected. This time it cost me 18p. Sounds petty, but I bet it’s added up over the last month or however long it’s been. If you average those two shops to about £46 (which is actually a bit higher than usual, because sometimes I can do contactless), that’s 23p/shop, or over 6 weeks, or £1.38.

First world problems.

Yesterday, after blogging, I had breakfast outside in the sun, stayed outside and crocheted. When even I felt it was getting a bit uncomfortable in the sun, I got my camping chair and put it in the shade by the fence. I stopped for a while and did a bit of weeding, then went back to sitting, crocheting, and listening to the neighbours’ music coming from their kitchen. Then in the afternoon I sat indoors and listened to 4 extra and carried on with my crochet till I’d turned my octagon into a square, and at about 5 o’clock I went and cooked my dinner. I could even tell you what that was, but I won’t.

It was a good day. I also did a load of washing. I wonder why I write about these minutiae of my life, of no conceivable interest to anyone. Maybe one day I’ll write a novel and this will all be useful atmosphere – or maybe not. I have a sort of idea for how I could write a novel that would incorporate some stuff from my blog, but don’t know how I’d end it.

Sometimes my thoughts lead to interesting stuff, but not today, it appears.

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Squaring the Dodecagram

Time is strange these days. It feels like ages since I started the project I’m going to write about, but I checked out the photos on my camera, and the ones of the first attempts were dated the 9th, 10th and 12th of May, which is only a fortnight ago.

I bought this beautiful varicoloured cotton knitting yarn online, and got obsessed with it, buying up different colour combinations with no clear idea what to do with them. I crocheted two shawls, then decided I would make myself a beach cover-up/summer top. The idea I had was that the front would have a starburst pattern in the middle, which I would gradually extend outwards, then at some point I would square it off and do rows along the top and bottom to the right length. It all seemed fairly straightforward, but I thought it would be fun.

I started from the middle with an ‘icicle’ design from a book of crochet stitches, a hexagon which grew into a six pointed star. Then, still working in the round, added stitches into the space between the points, and turned those into additional points, while still extending the original six points, so I ended up with a 12 pointed star (dodecagram).

That’s when it started to get interesting.

My plan was to keep extending the star until it was wide enough from point to point to go across my body and then ‘square it off’, filling in the spaces between the points. Except… For a start, once the points got to a certain size, I couldn’t get them to lie flat. Also, if I wanted to keep working in a circle, the points would keep growing while I was also trying to fill in the gaps. I could complete the star to the desired size and then fill in all the spaces individually, but that would disrupt the sequence of colours and besides, that wasn’t what I was trying to do. So I pulled it down by a few lines. Then tried something else. Then realised I needed to go back further, so undid what I’d just redone, plus some more. And so on. Every day I give up, put it away, get up the next morning, pull down what I’ve done, and try something else.

Then I started thinking more about the geometry. If I just filled in the spaces between the points, I would end up with a 12-sided polygon – a dodecagon. After a couple of days puzzling over this, I realised I should think of it in groups of three points. If I identified four main points and laid them out like the points of the compass, the next step should be to merge the pairs of points between them. If I could flatten them out, I would have a diamond shape in the centre and then four triangles round the corners.

Don’t know if this counts as ‘creativity’ sparked by the lockdown. It’s pretty pointless. But I’m enjoying myself.

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The Hermit (Part 2)

Weekly therapy session on Skype yesterday. The evening before, I was feeling quite down, but by the time lunchtime rolled around I was wondering what we were going to talk about.

She remarked that for the second week running I seemed to be quite happy and content with life. This week I did my shopping in Sainsbury’s, and used the self checkout, so I didn’t even have to interact with the checkout person, as I did last week in the Co-op. Not having to be with people suits me. I think about good friends I’ve known, how much I’ve enjoyed spending time with them, some who’ve helped, bullied or cajoled me onto new paths through my life, and the joy of my children and grandchildren, I’m aware of all those things, but still I think: enough, now it’s enough just to be on my own, doing what I want, when I want, how I want. ‘Snow can hurt your eyes, but only people make you cry.’ I’m even managing to be kinder to myself, less judgemental over the chaos, quietening the critical voices. I think about the times when I was travelling, how I revelled in just being, in anonymity and invisibility, looking out of the window of a train, or sipping coffee on a café terrace, just to be somewhere without feeling I needed to justify myself to anyone. That’s how it is now: sitting in my garden in the sunshine, or in my bay window listening to the radio and crocheting, or at my PC in the mornings pouring out my words from the wellspring of my soul. This is who I am.

I talked to her about my thoughts on the stages of grief, somewhat apprehensive that I’d taken it the wrong way, or that she’d say it was outdated or I was oversimplifying (a little knowledge is a dangerous thing). But she was genuinely interested in what I was saying, she explained some of the background, where the original ideas had come from and, yes, it has been distorted and misused but it still has application, and no, it’s not just ‘pop psych’. She said I’d latched on to the crucial point that it can be hard to distinguish between ‘denial’ and ‘acceptance’, that it can be cyclical and it’s not always a straight progression to a nirvana of acceptance.

I think perhaps this time of being home alone, of not pushing myself out into the world to interact with others, has been exactly what I need. So much of my emotional life has been taken up with that sense of incompleteness and failure as a person, the hopeless quest for a soulmate to fill the void in myself. Enough.

But the time will come when I’ll have to go out there again, and I will have to be with people, and things will happen that will bring me down. I don’t know how to prepare for that. But at least now I recognise the danger.

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Day 29 – Paper Flowers

Wrote this yesterday evening. Spent most of the morning clearing a space on the table from my previous papercrafting projects.

May or may not be finished today – don’t hold your breath!

Tomorrow I will make a paper sunflower.
I have the stamps, the dies,
the coloured paper.
A small act of creation
with glue and pencils, paper, ink
a little effort.

It may not be
a thing of beauty.
Just a pleasant way
to spend the time.
But there are worse things
I could do.

Linda Rushby 29 April 2020
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Passing Time

I was standing in the street in my dressing gown, it was 10.45 and I wondered how come I had slept in so late.

Then I was in bed looking at the clock, and it was 5.17, and I realised I had been dreaming. I was reassured, because that made so much more sense.

Thinking of what to write every day is difficult (except when it isn’t, when it just pops up) but the writing itself is easy.

The days go by so fast, even though I do hardly anything, one day after another, hard to tell the difference. The longer it stays like this, the less I feel inclined to interact with people. Life is so much easier this way. I think it will be a shock when external things start up again. I’ll have to make decisions then, do I make myself go out or do I carry on as I have been doing?

Over the last couple of years, people have said to me: ‘You do such a lot!’ and I’ve thought: no, I don’t, not really. When I listed all the external things I did each day: Monday: swimming, writers, yoga; Tuesday: tai chi; Wednesday: coffee (sometimes) etc etc it might sound like a lot, but it was just me, making myself go out, trying to make myself be sociable because I thought that was what I needed. But I wasn’t DOING anything – I would meet ‘the writers’ in the library, but I would never actually write anything. Now I am staying home and writing, but still I’m not actually writing ‘anything’, just spewing out words. Passing time, revelling in the dullness and emptiness of my life. Sometimes crocheting or weaving, but not to make anything – I’ve unravelled this latest cardigan so many times that by the time it’s finished I’ll probably have made it twice, then it will just go in the wardrobe and I’ll never wear it. The weaving and the weather blanket, both completely pointless (though I’ve promised this year’s weather blanket to my daughter, and I gave last year’s to my son). But the point is in the process of the making – it passes the time and makes me happy. And then there’s killer su doku – can’t even pretend that achieves anything.

The same goes (in spades) for the writing, of course. I’m quite impressed that I’ve kept it going for as long as I have – though in the past I’ve done it for years – why did I give it up? Maybe partly because it takes up a huge amount of time, that’s why the mornings go so fast, and afternoons are always filled up with the radio, so that’s the day gone. It’s interesting, though, to reflect that it’s not these things that make me stressed. I’m calmer and happier now, and that’s because I’m doing these things by myself – these pointless, meaningless things – and I don’t feel like I have to make myself go out and be with people.

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Happy Days

A couple of weeks ago, a friend said to me on Twitter: ‘This must be a good time to be alive for people who don’t like to go out’. Which incensed me because what I’d been saying was that I need to make myself go out and interact with people, because otherwise I’m worried that I will close down and disappear inside myself. Anyway, who was he to tell me how I was feeling?

But, strangely enough, I am enjoying life at the moment – well, I know I wasn’t a few days ago, but that was for other reasons. The relief of not having to think: ‘It’s such and such a day, I need to be there by this time and be with them…’ is actually helping me to relax and accept life. My simple routine is starting to sort out my days. I aim to do my half hour of exercise and meditation, feed the cat and let her out, and be at my computer with a cup of coffee by 8 o’clock – it doesn’t always work out that way, but I don’t beat myself up if it doesn’t. No one is expecting me to be anywhere else.

My health is good, my finances comfortable, my freezer full. The sun is shining; I have breakfast outside every morning after I’ve finished my 500 words – sometimes it’s as late as 11, but it doesn’t really matter. Last week there were three times when I connected with people through Facebook, Zoom or Skype: for meditation, tai chi and my weekly session with my psychotherapist. The fixed points of my routine are more frequently dictated by the radio schedules – 1 o’clock on weekdays for the half hour drama serial on 4 extra, and 3 pm every day for an hour of drama on 4 or 4 extra (though I can always catch up online). I’ve had to go out to the shops on four days out of the last seven, but for now I’m fine, until the milk runs out, which will be about Tuesday.

Having reduced housework to the level of: ‘I’m out of clean knickers, better put a load of washing on’, I’ve caught myself once or twice spontaneously tidying up some small area just to make my living space more pleasant, rather than because I’m frantically looking for something vital – yesterday I even started weeding the garden, and found myself enjoying it – I think partly because it’s quite satisfying to be pulling things out, rather than trying to coax them to grow. I crochet and weave – I tried something new in my weaving the other day, which didn’t work out, so had to undo it, but that’s ok because now I can do it again but better. My paper crafting stuff is all over the kitchen table and has been for weeks now – I keep thinking I’ll do something with it. Might even revive the idea of making a book from the haikus I wrote for NaPoWriMo in 2018.