My mum’s funeral was a year ago today. It was an unbelievably difficult day, which I got through by drinking too much wine at the pub afterwards (and vomiting on their carpet, but we won’t go there!). That weekend was spent on the sofa at my Mum’s house nursing a mixture of hangover and grief. The previous few years, on this same weekend in February, I had visited a local yarn festival but, obviously, I didn’t make it last year.
I would call myself an intermediate knitter at best (and no more than and advanced beginner when it comes to crochet!), so I have attended a few workshops at Unravel which have improved my skills no end. The fact that I can do amigurumi is down to a workshop taught by Kerry Lord of Toft a few years ago
and the reason that colourwork doesn’t completely terrify me (though it does still scare me a bit) is down to a Fair Isle workshop with Judy Hardman in 2016.
I have dithered over going this year – “Do I really need more yarn” (yes – obviously!) “Is it worth going if I’m not doing a workshop?” “Will my joints be too sore for the drive to Farnham?” and I have deduced that I am trying to talk myself out of it because of the timing. Which is crazy. Mum would have been the first to give me a kick up the arse and tell me to pull myself together! She would have been appalled if she knew I was moping at home when I could have been doing something fun and, more rarely nowadays, just for me. I love spending time with MiniMe and the Husbot but everyone needs some me time now and again and tomorrow is going to me mine! I am going to “oooh” and “aaah” over yarn and stitch markers and WIP bags and buttons, all safe in the knowledge that everyone else is there to do the exact same thing. I am going to meet up with some of the lovely ladies that live in my phone and drink coffee and eat things I shouldn’t and just have the worry-free, fun day that I really need.