Sunday, 25 March 2012

Ain't No Fibre Mountain High Enough

 Beautiful Birthday girl modelling mum's creation

Dear Hubby (DH) just doesn't understand me, even after all these years of wedded bliss.  Now please don't misunderstand what I am saying here, he is a very thoughtful and caring man.  I am sure if you were to ask him some simple questions such as what is my favourite perfume, colour, food, film, he could probably come up with a really good answer.  He can rustle up a wonderful meal and is much better at ironing than me.  But what he just doesn't understand at all about me, is my constant fibre obsession.

For example, he doesn't understand that when I go into a craft/yarn/fabric shop that I step into Narnia and  I am transported to another world and I am not seen for at least three hours.  He also doesn't understand why I need a fibre stash the size of a small mountain and even though I have a whole bookcase full of books, I still need to spend endless hours online looking for more.  He doesn't understand that sometimes when I am working,  I am so deep in thought that when he talks to me, I can see his lips move but I haven't understood a word he has just said (commonly referred to as "the lights are on but no one is home" syndrome).  He doesn't understand why we cannot open the door to the spare room (aka my work room) and if anybody wants to use the computer printer in there, they have to send in a search party to find it.  In fact, he doesn't understand my constant search and need for more materials, knowledge and inspiration at all.  
 My Work Room!!!

So I will try to explain this fibre obsession of mine.  I have spent many hours, days even months making things for my wonderful family.  Amongst the many things too numerous to list here:-  the little peach coloured dress with a cute animal print on it that I made for our daughter's first birthday (in photo above).  The jumper with a picture of Gromit the dog on for my son when he was five, which he wore until it got too small and worn out.  The lovely (well I thought it was) ginger coloured cardigan/jacket that I knitted for the same son when he was six, which he absolutely refused to wear.  The fleecy top that I made for you DH, extra long to keep your back warm when you rode your motorbike home from work in the winter.  The bridesmaids dresses that I made for my sister's wedding, worn by two other sisters and myself as bridesmaids.  Each stitch and  strand of these things have been made with extra love woven in by me and although most of these garments have long gone, the memory of the time spent making them and the pleasure felt by me when they have been worn, is etched in my memory for ever.

Therefore, I cannot make any apology for my actions, they are done out of a necessity to wrap the people I love in the things I make  X

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