I have a way of, when moving forward with life, conveniently (or otherwise) forgetting some of my accumulations. I don’t mean to, I put them away tidily, mentally remember where and then, a little squirrel like, fully intend to return to resume said activities.
Now I am being very vague here, please note, also very non-specific. Friends are not included in the above, but we are talking physical objects, such as books, golfing stuff, gym clothes and …… wool and fibre (in neither particular order).
When these items are stowed away I have every intention of returning… but as so often happens – life gets in the way (pause for a large sigh here…).
When I started back to work in 2000 (not that I was ever “not in work” – I was self-employed as a craftsperson and writer and decided after taking a few OU courses I missed the stimuli of being in paid and structured surroundings. I also missed the challenges of deadlines and tasks, which with the best will in the world you can only self-impose when being self-employed).
One of the services we offered was to schools and organisations who needed to be able to buy-in a craft “module” to comply with some part of their curriculum. This proved very enjoyable for us – we used to turn up with spinning wheels, carders and anything else people couldn’t hurt themselves with and go through the process from sheep to cardigan. The look of wonderment in people’s faces as they spun their first bit of fleece will live within me for ever and I smile writing about it now.
Now to undertake the above, we needed a “stash” – this could be justified as it was all being used and replenishment was important. What wasn’t taken into account by me, when I started the new phase of my life, was what was going to happen to the “stash”. You see (In my Defence here your honour) I was only taking a break and would return.
Except I didn’t – we didn’t, I became more and more qualified in my chosen field in the work force and found other interests. The stash lay forgotten – not totally though I reassure you, on a frequent basis one or other of the kids or Bruce would have a good moan….
Because what I have forgotten to tell you in this confessional tale so far, is the stash was encapsulated into the Caravan. Not any caravan, but the kids’ caravan which had been bought for them to be able to play outside the house in wet whether in some sense of privacy. This never happened, because the stash got put into it, and forgotten……
Until yesterday. Yesterday, whilst still undertaking the “Accounts” (for earnest readers who have now totally lost the thread – a gentle recap – I have had to produce accounts to justify our excessive expenditure over the last 2 1/2 years in the last two weeks – and being an accomplished accountant left everything until the last minute and totally overlooked the man hours needed to go through every drawer in the house, locate receipts, put them in date order and then put them on a spreadsheet – to the baffled bewilderment of our solicitor – his face when I mentioned a USB Pen…..but that is another tale I shall no doubt return to).
Well yesterday was interesting. Bruce opened a drawer and there were a year’s worth of receipts… the deadline being 4.30 for the solicitor, I didn’t kill him, but diligently unravelled each of them, to find they were BLINKIN DUPLICATES OF THE MAIN RECEIPTS ….. the thoughts going through my head at that point are not worthy of being placed on a page…
I made him ring the said solicitors to explain – I was too embarrassed, and instead of crying or getting into a rage (those emotional intelligence courses are really working) I thought I would just get him back…. the caravan I cried and so did he….
We opened the door and I am sorry – I cannot recount in totality here what met my eyes. I haven’t been in there for 8 years now, but had been told by the kids how bad it was… I am only sorry I didn’t take a photo to post here, but I was in stunned shock.
Wool in all kinds of kaleidoscope glory fell out at me… not unfortunately the nice wool I am knitting with now, but the acrylic giant ball types which were so fashionable and kids loved to knit with….. not one or two, but a FULL caravan….
I found my lace making kit (pre-spinning fad – bought in Honiton when the kids were small – a few classes and then I decided my eyes weren’t up to it) and it was a voyage of dedicated discovery. There were very few damaged areas – moths really aren’t a big fan of glittery acrylic, but a few of my knitting bags had rotted away, which was a shame.
So when you look in my stash pile on Ravelry – trust me, it is only the modern stuff – which I can actually put my hands on with five minutes notice… the rest – well I closed the door and will deal with it another day !!
