Taking Smock of the Situation

17 Jan
SheWolffe trying on the smock before the embroidery started

On 1 June 2021 I joined the 2021 100 days project.

For those that don’t know the 100 days project, the idea is simple: you choose a creative project, do it every single day for 100 days, and share your process on social using the hashtag #The100DayProject.

I joined for the first time in 2020, during that first lockdown year. Mum was interested to join in too – her creative project was to make a small painting each day, mostly of something from the garden. She would take a photo of her painting each day and then email it to me and I then uploaded it on her Instagram account. For most of 2020 we were not allowed to see one another, and this creative act brought us closer together and I think gave Mum a positive focus each day during those long locked down lonely weeks.

Then in January 2021 I came to stay with Mum during that lockdown. It became clear that she wasn’t quite herself, and at the end of April she was diagnosed with mixed dementia.

As I started the #100daysproject I reflected that my life was now very different from previous years… I shared caring for Mum with my elder brother; our routine was that we stayed in Galloway with mum for 2 to 3 weeks at a time, and then swapped. Because of covid restrictions it was quite an isolated time, those first months of 2021.

Anyway back in the first weeks of January 2021 I found this fisherman’s smock which mum used to wear when she was sculpting her pottery animals. She never wears it now and gifted it to me. I knew right then I wanted to embellish it, to embroider it with life.

Each embroidered element would connect to mum in some way. I had no idea if I had the skill to pull this off and create something more beautiful and meaningful than the smock itself, but each stitch would be so full of love for the remarkable woman who made me.

I recorded the progress on Instagram, initially posting every day (the 100 days are meant to be consecutive) but for various reasons my days were not consecutive, and I have also now recognised that this is a marathon, and not a 100 day sprint. So, 32 weeks later I still pick up the smock some days and stab the fabric. I still upload to Instagram each day I add stitches and if you want to see progress follow #TakingSmockOfTheSituation and #Smocktales on insta.

I started a fundraiser as a sideline of the project. Of course I did, I’m a fundraiser at heart and couldn’t help myself. So, if you are moved to contribute so no one in Scotland has to face dementia alone, please click here and support Alzheimers Scotland. I really appreciate your support, but more importantly so will so many others who are struggling to make sense of either their or a loved one’s dementia. It is a bewildering disease, for all of us.

I’ll add the backlog of slow stitching progress, and eventually I might catch up with myself and by then will have formed a regular blogging habit so you can see it (and my other adventures) in real time.

Edited to add blog posts relating to this story:

The following are coming soon…

  • Me!
  • It’s all about the detail
  • A non-happy birthday
  • I was late
  • Labels
  • Under The Stairs
  • Weaving in the ends
  • Fruity
  • Not boycotting

Trying to care for Mum as she developed dementia nearly broke me on a number of occasions. I would really appreciate it if you could make a donation towards Alzheimer Scotland. They’re doing stuff that makes living with this more bearable for so many people. Thank you, thank you, a thousand thank yous.

Tags: , , , , ,

Life in the Valley (for sale)

9 Jun

Yesterday evening we sat on our Terrace, overlooking 20 miles of the verdant Clyde Valley and the hills beyond. Despite being in Scotland, the sun was warm enough for us to stay out till after 9.30pm.

We have an ‘outdoorsy kitchen’ up on the Terrace – it started with a barbecue made from an old wheelbarrow. A few upgrades later, and we now have a pizza oven, a catering quality stainless steel prep area, a fridge, a small sink, and a gas-fired BBQ cooker. I love cooking, and cook from scratch every day, never quite making the same thing twice.

In the cooler weather we light the chimenea, and wrap ourselves in warm woolly blankets if we need to. The awning protects us from the rain, and there is something utterly magical about being out there, cosy warm and eating our dinner while the snow gently falls all around us.

Earlier in the day we’d been checking our fruit trees – there’s going to be such a good harvest of pears this year, perhaps not so many apples or plums. But each year brings a slightly different harvest in and around our garden, so over the years I have developed recipes to make use of the bounty: Pear Liqueur, Cinnamon Apple Jelly (delicious on hot buttered toast), Spiced Pears; Damson Gin; Wild Cherry Liqueur; Blackcurrant Ripple Ice Cream; Plum and Sour Cream Tart. Nothing goes to waste. And of course we have a freezer full of Bramble and Apple Crumbles.

I work from home, and when I look up from my laptop, the view out the window is of fields, sloping up towards the farm on the top of the wee hill. They are cutting the silage today, so each time I look, there is another stripe added, the dark lines of the cut grass next to the straw yellow of the stubble. And tractors buzzing about, up and down the hill.

Yesterday The Captain came through to my office after breakfast, and insisted I went upstairs to our big bathroom, to look out the window. In the field at the bottom of our garden was a mother deer with her two fawns prinking and pronking about in the long grass. The youngsters tired quickly and lay down out of sight, while she remained vigilant, her head up, and twirling around like a periscope watching for any danger.

What a joy it is to be here. It’s not for everyone, but for anyone who enjoys a more sustainable life, surrounded by trees and fields and wildlife, it’s perfect.

We’re moving on, selling up this countryside idyll. We’ll be sad to leave, but by selling this place, we can continue to pay for Mum’s care costs, keeping her comfortable in this last stage of her long and happy life.

Do you dream of living in the country? We have outbuildings which have outline planning permission, so could be converted to a self-catering rental property for some income, or to a grannie flat, or a fabulous studio or workshop. Currently it’s a rather deluxe hen house for Brutus and his girls, but more on them another day.

Details of Mauldslie Kennels, our home in the Valley, are here.

***

Mostly on this blog I write about trying to care for Mum as she developed dementia, which nearly broke me on a number of occasions. Gentle meditative stitching her old Fisherman’s Smock probably saved me, giving me a focus and forcing me to carve out time when I could let everything go and just concentrate on those tiny stitches.

If you want to read more about my relationship with Mum and her dementia, then you could start here at Taking smock of the Situation. Or just dip in. After all, if I’ve learned anything this last few years it’s that chronology and time are less important than we might believe.

Tags: , , , ,

It’s all about the detail

8 Jun

On 28 August 2021 I wrote

Hello Gorgeous!

It’s all about the detail, and I love the detail of adding a hangie uppie loop and a 2021 tag to this bathrobe. And a Hello Gorgeous label, obvs.

Labels by @kylieandthemachine
Pattern by @munaandbroad
Fabric from @dalston.mill.fabrics

I may have loved the hangie uppie tag on this bathrobe, and the fabric. But the love hasn’t extended to wearing it all the time. And I know the reason why, and what I could do about it. So that’s on the list in my head of Things I Will Get Round To One Day.

I had somehow ordered a shorter length of fabric than I needed, and only noticed when it came to cutting it out. As a result, the robe is shorter than I want… What I should do, is use a matching / clashing fabric to add an 8″ or so border along the hemline. It would immediately turn this into something that I’d wear OFTEN. One day.

I have a lot of these One Day projects, that swill about in my head and will get done eventually. I also have a lot of reasons (ok, excuses) as to why they have not been done already.

Today, I’m determined to get through a great long list of rather boring work tasks before I allow myself to do anything else. I’m feeling pretty positive that I do, at least, have all the tasks now written down in one comprehensive list. I just wish it didn’t look quite so impossibly long though.

***

Mostly on this blog I write about trying to care for Mum as she developed dementia, which nearly broke me on a number of occasions. Gentle meditative stitching the Fisherman’s Smock probably saved me, giving me a focus and forcing me to carve out time when I could let everything go and just concentrate on those tiny stitches.

And if you want to read more about my relationship with Mum and her dementia, then you could start here at Taking smock of the Situation. Or just dip in. After all, if I’ve learned anything this last few years it’s that chronology and time are less important than we might believe.

Tags: , ,

Me!

6 Jun

On 28 August 2021 I wrote

Me!

By @maximumwolffe a couple of months ago when we were in Gatehouse.

Tomorrow I’ll be another year older, so today we celebrate still being this young!

Birthdays.

For years I’ve thought that I should be celebrating Mum on my my birthday each year. I just happened along, like some side effect of all the work she’d put into carrying me for 9 months. Plus an extra two weeks. Mum was most unhappy about that extra two weeks, and I’ve known all my life that I was two weeks late – it feels like such a part of my identity, and although I like to be punctual, I know that I have used it as an excuse over the years if ever I have been late for things. And as I type this I realise how utterly mad that sounds. But yes, I was late arriving from the very start.

Of course I don’t remember much about my start in life.

I do remember a sense of always trying to catch up, or else being very grumpy that I couldn’t. I guess this is what happens when you are the youngest of three children, all born within three years.

Mum though, Mum was so very clever at treating us equally – one of her catchphrases which we all use to this day is “It’s not a competition”.

I suspect this innate desire Mum had to make us all feel equal came from her own memories of childhood, before her youngest sister was born, and the three girls were described as: Jennifer, the beautiful one, Joyce the clever one, and Alix the middle one.

In Mum’s eyes we were all three clever and talented and funny and creative and would find our way in the world. And she was right, we have done. And I am forever grateful for the (mostly unspoken) love that she has showed us throughout our lives.

***

Mostly on this blog I write about trying to care for Mum as she developed dementia, which nearly broke me on a number of occasions. Gentle meditative stitching the Fisherman’s Smock probably saved me, giving me a focus and forcing me to carve out time when I could let everything go and just concentrate on those tiny stitches. I would really appreciate it if you could make a donation towards Alzheimer Scotland. They’re doing stuff that makes living with this more bearable for so many people. Thank you, thank you, a thousand thank yous.

And if you want to read more about my relationship with Mum and her dementia, then you could start here at Taking smock of the Situation. Or just dip in. After all, if I’ve learned anything this last few years it’s that chronology and time are less important than we might believe.

Tags: , ,

Another 100 Days

5 Jun

Regular readers may remember that I’ve participated in the 100DaysProject for the past few years.

In 2020 I created a large crochet blanket, with #100SquaresOfColour. And Mum drew a painting each day, until Day 83 when she JUST STOPPED. You can see an online exhibition of her Not Quite 100 Days here.

In 2021 I started embroidering meaningful designs on Mum’s old fisherman’s smock with #TakingSmockOfTheSituation. This continues to be a work in progress – I never reached Day 100, but when I do, I will keep going further. There is so much more to embroider, but I will only return to it when my head is in the right space to enjoy it.

In 2022 I again embroidered, this time adapting other people’s designs, with #100DayStitchUp

This year I’m both pushing myself into uncharted territory and falling back on familiar ground. For 100 Days (starting 1 June 2023) I am knitting colourwork with Shetland wool (one of my favourite crafts), but I am making up my own design, which I have never tried before. You can follow along on Instagram via #100DaysPlayingWithColour if you want. I’ll also occasionally post on here. Probably.

The colour palette I’m starting with is inspired by Carrick Shore, which is the place I go to (physically if I can, or in my mind if not) when I need rejuvenating. Carrick is balm to my soul.

Last year I used an image of Carrick Shore with words to create a collage. The poem Everything is going to be all right by Derek Mahon spoke to me at the time, though I know I could hardly say it out loud, without breaking at the line ‘There will be dying, there will be dying,…’. I imagine there will be more days to come when I cannot recite these words without breaking a wee bit.

***

Mostly on this blog I write about trying to care for Mum as she developed dementia, which nearly broke me on a number of occasions. Gentle meditative stitching the Fisherman’s Smock probably saved me, giving me a focus and forcing me to carve out time when I could let everything go and just concentrate on those tiny stitches. I would really appreciate it if you could make a donation towards Alzheimer Scotland. They’re doing stuff that makes living with this more bearable for so many people. Thank you, thank you, a thousand thank yous.

And if you want to read more about my relationship with Mum and her dementia, then you could start here at Taking smock of the Situation. Or just dip in. After all, if I’ve learned anything this last few years it’s that chronology and time are less important than we might imagine.

Tags: , ,

MaDolly gets dressed

30 May

On 26 August 2021 I wrote

I did some different sewing today, if only so I could dress MaDolly. MaDolly is my early birthday present from The Captain and I absolutely love her!

My sewing project is a bathrobe which I’ll finish tomorrow, and I’ll give you all the details then.

The next picture shows you The Captain’s project – a barrel converted into a table with a fridge! It’s off to a new home though so I’d better not get too fond of it.

Weren’t we productive in those balmy late summer days of 2021?

Occasionally as I write this blog I go back and look at WhatsApp (other platforms are available) messages from the time to remind me what I was talking about, as well as what I was taking pictures of. Those pictures are the curated version of my life. The WhatsApp is more the real me.

I was going to go down to Gatehouse that coming weekend to see Mum, but a member of staff at the home got Covid so the place was in lockdown again and no visitors were allowed. I told my friend, J (who has a difficult relationship with her own mother).

Me: I’m not going to Gatehouse now, as no visiting due to Covid

J: Oh that’s pants

J: I wish I could gift you my Mama time (J had plans to spend time with her mother that week, though was considering cancelling it)

Me: It’s ok. I have mixed emotions about seeing her these days so I’m partly relieved.

Me: I wish I could gift you my relationship with my Mum

J: I wish this too

Me: there’s been enough goodness there to share around

So, there we were – J was going to cancel seeing her mother with whom she had a difficult (and that’s me being generous) relationship. And I wasn’t able to visit my mother with whom I’d had a very close relationship. If only we had been able to share the good bits of each of those situations. I so wish this was possible.

I’d forgotten about the time when I had such mixed feelings about seeing Mum. My brain has chosen to forget that bit, for which I am grateful. But as I think back, I can recall how it felt that each time I left Mum I knew I would come back to a ‘lesser’ version of her next time. I often cried after seeing her. Sometimes only momentarily, sometimes great big oxygen-sucking sobs and gulps. I guess it was good to let it out. And then that anticipation gnawed away at me, like some hungry tapeworm inside of me. And during this period Mum was not only random, which I found remarkably easy to cope with, but also frequently upset and sad. Sometimes this was caused by a UTI, but there also seemed to be times when part of Mum was genuinely struggling with her situation. It was difficult to know, as conversation was already somewhat limited.

To this day Mum has always recognised me, for which I am endlessly grateful (see the wee crumbs that we are thankful for!). But there were certainly times in those first months when Mum didn’t always immediately trust me, in that she seemed not to trust anyone any more. There was a lot of talk of certain people being ‘on the other side’ which may have referred to the war, but not necessarily. We tried not to analyse the content of Mum’s conversations too much – it was more important to get a sense of the essence of her when we visited. And there were, as ever, good days and bad days.

Let’s hope that today is a good day – I find the criteria for good and bad have changed dramatically in the intervening months… I have grown to appreciate a couple of hours of quiet sleeping, with perhaps 5 seconds of waking up and smiling that it is me, her favourite daughter (as I tell her).

***

Trying to care for Mum as she developed dementia nearly broke me on a number of occasions. Gentle meditative stitching the Fisherman’s Smock probably saved me, giving me a focus and forcing me to carve out time when I could let everything go and just concentrate on those tiny stitches. I would really appreciate it if you could make a donation towards Alzheimer Scotland. They’re doing stuff that makes living with this more bearable for so many people. Thank you, thank you, a thousand thank yous.

And if you want to read more about my relationship with Mum and her dementia, then you could start here at Taking smock of the Situation. Or just dip in. After all, if I’ve learned anything this last few years it’s that chronology and time are less important than we might believe.

Tags: , , , ,

Nearly there (in so many ways)

25 May

On 26 August 2021 I wrote

Blocking is the final stage of making something lovely out of yarn.

And today is a day for blocking on the terrace. This was a delight to knit and will be deliciously warm this winter.

Pattern- Sycamore by @harveyknits
Yarn – DK from @newlanarkspinning
Colour – copper green. (It’s more goosegogs to me but I love it)

I was nearly there, nearly finished this shawl, which was happily gifted to my big sister.

As a reminder, we’re selling our house. So if you, or anyone you know, wants to live this lifestyle where it can feel like you’re on your holiday every evening, sitting on the Terrace enjoying the sun going down, then take a look here, and get in touch with Fraser.

It’s been quite a big decision to move from here, but in the end it’s not been the most difficult decision to make. We’re both excited about the new life we’ll lead in Galloway, and we’ll always have the happiest of memories of living here.

So, we’re nearly there; once our house is sold we will move to Galloway.

I was in Gatehouse this weekend, which was hosting The Gralloch, which I might write more about another time. The wee town was absolutely buzzing, with around 1,000 cyclists (including an Olympian, a world record holder and a F1 driver) starting and finishing their gruelling 100km gravel race almost outside our door – the town population is only around 1,000 so it all felt quite busy!

Spending time with Mum was mostly peaceful – she again slept through my entire visit on Saturday, so I chatted a bit to her while I knitted, and reminded her how much I love her; I stroked her hair and held her hand as she slept on; I felt grateful that she seems so calm, so untroubled by the world and her inevitable transition out of it. I sense that Mum is nearly there, wherever there is. But the flipside is that she is now only nearly here.

On Sunday she opened her eyes briefly as a carer gently tried to feed her breakfast. It was both beautiful and sad to watch. There is such genuine care being given by the staff, such kindness; and it gives Mum such dignity. But I found myself unspeakably sad afterwards, having seen Mum so frail and hardly able to eat even the softest porridge as it is spooned into her mouth.

I know there will come a time again when I am able to remember Mum as she was, but I seem to have blocked off that memory for now, having found it too impossible to hold both her as she was and as she is now. The contrast is too cruel.

Mum (standing up) with her sister, Joyce

***

Trying to care for Mum as she developed dementia nearly broke me on a number of occasions. Gentle meditative stitching the Fisherman’s Smock probably saved me, giving me a focus and forcing me to carve out time when I could let everything go and just concentrate on those tiny stitches. I would really appreciate it if you could make a donation towards Alzheimer Scotland. They’re doing stuff that makes living with this more bearable for so many people. Thank you, thank you, a thousand thank yous.

And if you want to read more about my relationship with Mum and her dementia, then you could start here at Taking smock of the Situation. Or just dip in. After all, if I’ve learned anything this last few years it’s that chronology and time are less important than we might believe.

Tags: , , , ,

Puck

23 May

On 26 August 2021 I wrote

Evidently it’s #InternationalDogDay. So here’s our favourite wee ragamuffin, Puck.

Puck came to us in 2020 during that first year of lockdown. Although he was most definitely a lockdown puppy, he wasn’t your classic lockdown puppy, bought just because we were at home all day. He was the replacement for dear wee MobyDog, the Jack Russell who had lived her best life in Mauldslie. We’d always talked of succession planning for when Moby left us, but we hadn’t foreseen it would happen during a global pandemic (of course).

As we went into lockdown Moby seemed a bit out of sorts, not quite as lively as she’d been and having trouble when she was trying to poo (too much information? sorry). Anyway, we called the vet and, it being lockdown, were told to come to the clinic and call them from the car park. A nurse came out and talked to us outside in the sunshine and then Moby followed her quite happily into the building, so the vet could see what they thought was wrong. Moby seemed so happy and carefree. As were we.

The nurse returned shortly afterwards – Moby had a tumour. There were options, and without giving it very much thought we chose to operate (the most expensive option) which would give Moby the best chance of getting a bit more life back again.

Moby died on the operating table – when they opened her up they realised there was no way they could remove everything and enable her to live. She was euthanased.

I had taken Moby for a walk down the woods that morning before we had called the vet. And she was her happy little self, trotting along, sniffing at everything that was the same height as her nose. And within hours she was gone. I was glad that our last sight of her was happily walking away with the nurse in that bright sunshine.

Wee Moby dog living her best life

We had always known that we’d get another dog, and hoped to get a rescue dog. But after several months we realised that there may never be a rescue dog which would be suitable for a home with another dog. And a cat. And many hens. So we put it out into the universe that we were looking for a dog.

And within days our neighbour up the road told us that Wullie’s Patterdale Terrier had just had pups, and we could go along and see them. We chose the biggest naughtiest pup. They had called him Tyson, but as he was born on Midsummer’s Night we renamed him Puck. And he has lived up to his name.

Puck pretending to be a kangaroo – excited that he’s spotted the return of The Captain

***

Mostly on this blog I write about trying to care for Mum as she developed dementia, which nearly broke me on a number of occasions. Gentle meditative stitching the Fisherman’s Smock probably saved me, giving me a focus and forcing me to carve out time when I could let everything go and just concentrate on those tiny stitches. I would really appreciate it if you could make a donation towards Alzheimer Scotland. They’re doing stuff that makes living with this more bearable for so many people. Thank you, thank you, a thousand thank yous.

And if you want to read more about my relationship with Mum and her dementia, then you could start here at Taking smock of the Situation. Or just dip in. After all, if I’ve learned anything this last few years it’s that chronology and time are less important than we might believe.

Tags: ,

Creativity

18 May

On 25 August 2021 I wrote more…

This wee dude is nearly done and although I have one more swallow to stitch I’m already thinking about the next design. It’s going to be a cheeky wee quick one. And I’m already excited about it.

It’s been interesting today, just letting my mind wander. I was thinking how creative all my family are, and how I don’t consider myself creative at all. At least not musically or visually… but I know I am with food. Give me some random ingredients and I can create you a tasty meal. Today I made pita bread (there it is, puffing up in the pizza oven) and brought a selection of salads and cold meats and cheese and boiled eggs to the table so we filled our pitas then filled our faces. The pita recipe is from Ripe Figs, the most beautiful celebration of food, migration and a world without borders by Yasmin Khan.

Mum is an artist. She can pick up a pencil, a pen, a brush and draw whatever is in front of her. Well she could. The optician confirmed she has macular degeneration which explains why she’s being saying “I’m blind” for over a year. And I think this combined with her dementia means we will never see her draw again. I hope she doesn’t miss drawing, but I think she maybe she does, when she remembers it was a talent she had.

Mum never did draw again. And these days she sleeps most of the hours of each day, so I know she never will.

Thankfully I don’t think she ever did regret that she could no longer draw; she seemed not to know that she ever had that ability. So, while I feel sad at that loss, Mum never did.

We had hung one of her pen and ink drawings in her room in the care home – it’s a charming picture of her lush green veg boxes, overflowing with abundance, and surrounded by small creatures – swallows, a snail, a wee mouse, a spider.

In late August 2022 I was sitting with Mum as I embroidered – the design was adapted from a pen and ink drawing I had found in one of her sketchbooks, of silver birch trees in the Autumn. I showed Mum and let her know how much I loved stitching her drawings, reminding her what a talented artist she was. She did her funny wee scowl, looking puzzled, and with disbelief asked “Am I?”.

I talked some more about the ease with which she could draw anything in front of her.

She had no recollection of this aspect of her life at all. And what surprised me more, was that she had no curiosity about it, and no disappointment that she could no longer do it. It was as if I was talking to her about someone she really didn’t care for and certainly wasn’t interested in.

She hmmmphed at me, as an indication that she’d like to move on to other topics.

By this time Mum had lost all her curiosity in the world around her. And with that loss of curiosity, comes a loss of interest in almost anything. This was so very different to the Mum I had known for most of my life, who showed interest in everything.

I don’t say this in any critical way at all, or even with sadness, though I’d be lying if I pretended I wasn’t grieving for Mum. It is just a statement of how I perceived Mum, and how our relationship was at that time. In some ways visits with her became easier for me (I know, I know, it shouldn’t be all about me, but my experience is all that I can write about with any confidence). When she was losing her ability to communicate so well, there were visits when she would be distressed but was unable to articulate why. This distress was rare, what was more common was that we struggled after a while to communicate about anything much at all – Mum would tire, and fail to find the words she was looking for. Previously, when I was living with her I could finish every sentence for her when she lost a word – we existed as a team together. After several months in the care home this was not possible. I sometimes could not fathom what she was trying to tell me at all. So, more recently, when she lost the inclination to talk much at all, I took my embroidery or knitting with me and after a short chat I would tell her that I was going to get on with my knitting (or whatever) and that I’d just sit quiet as a mouse beside her. I often told her she looked tired, and she agreed that she was … essentially I gave her permission to snooze.

Perhaps we all need to be given permission to snooze some days.

***

Trying to care for Mum as she developed dementia nearly broke me on a number of occasions. Gentle meditative stitching the Fisherman’s Smock probably saved me, giving me a focus and forcing me to carve out time when I could let everything go and just concentrate on those tiny stitches. I would really appreciate it if you could make a donation towards Alzheimer Scotland. They’re doing stuff that makes living with this more bearable for so many people. Thank you, thank you, a thousand thank yous.

And if you want to read more about my relationship with Mum and her dementia, then you could start here at Taking smock of the Situation. Or just dip in. After all, if I’ve learned anything this last few years it’s that chronology and time are less important than we might believe.

Tags: , , ,

Paradise (lost)

16 May

On 25 August 2021 I wrote

Another fine day in paradise

Paradise wasn’t lost at all. It was here all along. perhaps we needed a global pandemic and my mother’s dementia to see it, but look! Life was pretty good!

Remember, if you want to find your own paradise and think it might be here, we’re selling the house, with the view, and the fabulous terrace with the views across the Clyde Valley. You’d have to buy your own pizza oven, but it would be worth it! You can get all the details here.

***

I started writing this series of posts here, with Taking Smock of the Situation, an embroidery project I started after I realised Mum might have dementia. There I was, embroidering her old fisherman’s smock with symbols relating to her life; while her memories were having their own wee party, jumbling themselves up and then running off into the night, never to be seen again.

Before that I blogged about whatever I was cooking and you can find my recipes here.

Tags:

How are you?

11 May

On 25 August 2021 I wrote

This is fun! I’m sitting in the sun, mindlessly stitching and feeling my whole self begin to relax.

This wee swallow is beginning to take shape but I need to go and make lunch so you’ll see the rest of him later. Yes, since there have been so many days with no updates, I decided you can have double updates some days. Watch this space later.

I have just re-read something else I wrote at this time, illustrating how much I curated my life on social media to suit the world I wanted you to believe I live in.

My friend Juliet had asked me that simple question, “How are you?”

And I don’t sugar the pill with Juliet, I am able to be entirely open and honest with her. I said, “I’m not sure really. I say everything is ok, because it’s not awful. And I’m sitting outside sipping coffee and eating madeleines. And embroidering swallows. So it is ok by most standards.” And, honestly, by most standards it was.

But then I went on to say, “I’m sad. OK but sad”

And when Juliet responded with “I think sad is very acceptable”

I knew this to be true, “It is. Indeed. And I have madeleines”

So Juliet added, “And love”

And because it was on WhatsApp and sometimes you get out of synch, I then replied with, “Orange and cardamom flavoured if you want to know” and “An abundance of it”

I hope that wherever you are and whatever is going on in your life that you, too, have an abundance of love. And also that you have people around you who you can say how it really is when they ask how you are.

***

You might want to dip into other posts, or understand how we got to this point? This series of posts starts here, with Taking Smock of the Situation, an embroidery project I started after I realised Mum might have dementia. There I was, embroidering her old fisherman’s smock with symbols relating to her life; as her memories were being thrown around like so many pieces of jigsaw in a big box.

Tags: , , ,

← Older Entries

%d bloggers like this: