It’s my day off. I’m not out having exciting adventures. Nor am I relaxing and spoiling myself. I’m struggling with today. (There, I admitted it, go me, eh?)
I’m having a huge wobble about Guide camp this weekend. Mentally, I’m doing better than I was a few months (even a few weeks) ago, but I still don’t think I’m in a fit state to be in charge of 24 girls.
I’m trying to work through it. I just finished knitting part III of the triptych, and it’s blocking right now. I’ve mounted part I. Part II needs ends weaving in and mounting. As I’ve got the heating on in a vain attempt to dry the clothes we need for camp, so I reckon there’s just a chance I can get all three parts dry and mounted before I go. I’m properly excited about this one. I think I’ve actually made real the idea that was in my head.
But I’m not going to show you until it’s properly finished… and as it’s rather grey here, it may well be the middle of next week before I get a decent photo.
Tools of the trade:
Yes, this is work. It’s taken me 30 years to stop apologising for how I choose to spend my time, and to take the things I make seriously. This is not just a hobby, this is what I want to do, what I need to do; this is me. I may have to fit it around the work-that-pays-the-bills, but this is no less important. Interesting thought: if I show that I value what I do, will people take my valuation, or will it still just be a comedy hobby? Maybe if I ditched some of the flippancy? I’m not sure I know how to do that after all this time…
You know what? I’m feeling better than when I started writing this at 9.30 this morning.
Making things has got me through worse days than this. One day I’ll write about The Quilt. It is singular and capitalised as I’m not sure whether I ever will make another.
I may even summon the strength to tackle my to-do list and pack for c*** whilst I wait for things to dry. Why am I worrying? It will all be fine, as a wise friend told me earlier.