Well, I thought I’d fulfil my motherly duties with a spot of cutting and sticking after being guilt-tripped into it whilst chatting to a friend. So, as promised, we set about retrieving the ‘craft’ box which is jammed in the cupboard where everything else is, well…jammed. So much so that if you remove that little sewing kit at the top, the whole lot will come tumbling out like a raging river of useless stuff. In factjust like that. I think this singular annoying event has been the barrier to me engaging in craft activities for so long. The neat-freak in me simply says, “are you having a laugh?” However, I bit the bullet, adopted the brace position, and let the floodgates open.
The idea of a crafty afternoon was a rosy glow of giggles and glitter glue which in reality turned into an SAS style reflex reaction test. I reached and dived juggling glue and paint brushes so many times that boot camp had nothing on me. I was just about holding it together, even managing a laugh and a joke at one point (rare) but then, as always, the unravelling began…When it came to the second pot of glue (yes kids don’t half rattle through it), the lid was blocked. A little jiggle with the knife was fruitless so I nipped upstairs to get the one and only safety pin in my possession only to find upon my return that the glue was now all over the bare table top. Not only that but the paint brushes were now practically drowning in the pot. I rescued them with the tips of my fingers but then clashed with a little flailing arm, sending sticky brushes into the fluffy pile of my lovely new jumper. It would have been ok-ish had I not then chipped my shellac nail polish on TWO fingers whilst attempting to open yet another pot of glitter. “Arrrggghhh!” doesn’t cover it, but you get the picture. I might be sounding like a grump but when you’re still finding sequins on your bum at breakfast weeks after the event it can kind of bug you. I have to say that despite the mess and the mishaps, the end result was some beautifully wonky Christmas decorations which warmed the cockles of my heart. Despite moaning about it, I do find myself pointing them out to visitors, casually throwing in “oh yes the children made those at home, just let me move that glitter pot (that I might have Ieft out on purpose…) cup of tea?” leaving them aghast with craft envy. A quick guilt-fuelled trip to the pound shop on the way home is hastily added to their agenda, ahead of a studious hour of cutting and sticking, lest one feel inadequate. The circle of craft rolls on and I’m delighted to say I’ve done my bit!
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