Sunday, 14 February 2010

Once upon a time, a Tuesday I believe, a young lady happily bounced down the steps of Tottenham Court Road tube station. Down the stairs? What all 146ish of them? Did the young lady not know of the perfectly comfortable and functional escalator in operation? Well, that she did, but nonetheless she chose the path less often trodden by the ordinary London commuter, preferring the solitude of the stairs. This was already an established habit, even though she had only just started new employment back in the West End two short weeks before, after a period of purgatory due to cheaper rent somewhere near the North Circular Road. But today the young lady in question was not alone. No, following closely behind her was a young man.

On closer inspection, ( difficult, ever tried casually looking over you're shoulder while carefreely bouncing down a spiral staircase, without falling arse over elbow? Mmmm, I should add that skill to my C.V) the young man was THE young man from the haberdashers who covered her buttons (that's not a euphemism for anything, he really did cover buttons...) the previous year. Then her legs did that funny thing, when they independently get very self conscience and decide they're off to audition for a role in a Monty Python sketch. So the young lady gives him her best smile, and he talks to her. Thank heavens! I hear you all sigh. He makes some idle chit chat about it being Valentines Day, she laughs, and it turns out the young man, who we shall call Mr.M, coincidentally only lives 2 tube stops away from her, and has only been working back in the West End for a few days. So a date is arranged - Thursday, MacDonald's, Golders Green (could that BE any more glamorous). And the rest, as they say, is history. It seems London is a very big city but it can be a very small world when fate steps in.

That was 20 years ago, today (it was today, but I've spent so long typing it's now yesterday because today's Monday, keep up....) and the young man is still making the young lady laugh, sometimes even for the right reasons, though they're not so young and I'd prefer not to comment on the lady status....

Monday, 8 February 2010

So here I am, 3 months after the last post. Just 10 days after that post, so full of the joys of no builders, I lost my Dad. We knew he was very ill, but still it was a shock, as these things always are. And now I'm here caught between normality and grief, not really knowing what to write, but not able to stop because that feels worse, like pretending it didn't happen. But it did. And life goes on. Falteringly somedays, but on nonetheless it seems.

And I'm not ready to give up on blogging and stitching, and this is afterall a craft blog, it's just well hidden. Stealth craft. But it's still there, bubbling underneath as always. And sewing is like therapy for the soul, creating something from nothing. Dad would have liked that. Though he would have used a hammer and big nails. And less vintage lace.