Too much bitchin’, not enough stitchin’

Cosy indoors; pinking shears a pinking, knitting needles a clinking and the old grey matter a thinking. Utter bliss. I savour the last remaining minutes. Five, four, three, two, one…

…”MUMMY!” The peace is shattered with that five-letter word. The boys and dogs come crashing through the door, demanding my instant attention. I feed and water them, whilst plotting how I can carve out some me-time.

Indoors; pinking shears a pinking, knitting needles a clinking and the old grey matter ticking over. Ten whole minutes later, I’m needed for some domestic emergency. I patiently put down what I’m doing and get way-laid for a couple of hours.

Pinking shears a chopping, knitting needles a clinking and the old grey matter a scheming. A really BIG, soporific roast dinner; that’s what I’ll do. That’ll give me at least an hour. Or maybe not…

…”MUMMY!” I remove the knitting needle from the cushion I have just stabbed. “The dog’s been sick.” I sigh and shove the knitting in the bag and get back to my other life, until the end of the day.

Strips of jumbo cord cut with pinking shears and then knitted with chunky needles

Working into the wee small hours I enjoy the reassuring rhythm of the knitting and the repetitive nature of cutting strips of fabric. I work through the tiredness and relish being in the zone, totally absorbed in what I’m doing. Then I realise as I come out of my knitting meditation, what has really been going on. I sift through my ever-growing pile of paper-work and find my salvation – a watercolour painting class. I make a mental note to book a place at the local adult education centre. Not for career progression, not because I “should”, just because. To get away from my responsible self and immerse myself in creativity and self-expression.

Just because.

Kat