Not so long ago, on a long car journey, I came across an episode of the Freakonomics podcast that blew my tiny little mind. Entitled “How Can This Possibly Be True”, the episode explores a famous economic essay (bear with me) in which a pencil (yes, a pencil) makes the astonishing claim that “not a single person on the face of this earth knows how to make me.”
I used to describe myself as an accidental Londoner. I must admit, I don’t really understand the appeal of cities. In my introvert brain all the amenities and culture in the world cannot make up for that many people. Or the tube. I grew up surrounded by woods, fields and open sky; in that environment I feel like the best version of myself. Our new home in Surrey isn’t in the deep heart of the countryside, but it’s pretty close. Close enough to breathe deeply and easily and energetically, without risking the disapproval of fellow commuters.
I can be a terribly impatient crafter. For all my love of the garment-creation process, the magic of taking a design from my head and giving it shape in cloth or yarn, I also love playing dress-up. Sometimes a small part of me just wants to have new clothes to play with, and that little voice gets louder and grumpier the longer a project stays incomplete. If I’m not careful that little voice can hijack the process and cause catastrophic crafting failure in the final stages.