I am not complaining, and I am well aware that (touch wood) I am living the best life, working from my home here in the Cotswolds and spending my days gardening, cooking, designing cross stitch and stitching.
What I am finding difficult is that I am never in a position with nothing to do, there is always a long list and never enough time. Long ago, a girlfriend advised me that I should plan a day every month with nothing in it – nothing planned, nothing listed. Then I should freely choose something that would make me smile. Good advice that I finally took…
One morning I got out of bed and put the lists in my desk drawer, took a chilli out of the freezer, turned off my phone and scuttled about looking in my safe places for some very special bits and pieces. When I had gathered them all, I put on a cosy tracksuit, some loud music and proceeded to create something that had been itching at my brain for months.
To fully appreciate the importance of my creation, I should mention that I was brought up by the sea and only left it to marry Bill – or I would still be there. Sometimes the absence of waves in my ears is almost too much and I do listen to shells! As a result of this longing, I have a fantasy-themed bathroom which is far too seaside to be a cliché. As the centre piece I had planned a cross between a mobile and a sculpture, based on driftwood and other finds, but simply not had time to start it.
I cleared the kitchen table and emptied boxes and bags so that I covered our 12-seater table with driftwood, shells, pebbles and all sorts of seaside debris. The largest and most major piece of driftwood was found on a beach on Vancouver Island and came home in my suitcase. All day was spent drilling oyster shells, wiring shells with florists’ wire and burning my fingers on a hot glue gun. It was bliss. My big piece of driftwood was significantly heavier at one end, so the only way to keep things balanced was to hang the developing ‘installation’ from a big hook in the ceiling and just keep adding things.
My creation now hangs from an oak beam in the bathroom and, in the summer when we have skylights open, it sings in the breeze. It is still not finished as I know that I can add more but I am giving myself time to think and the chance to collect more stuff when next I am at the seaside.
