So today the Cath Kidston catalogue arrives on my doormat - one more way the world has found to tell me how poorly I shape up as a domestic goddess. The thought of me in a flowery linen frock baking pink macaroons is about as likely as my cat Malcolm learning to sing the Toreador Song from Carmen. It’s not that Malcolm doesn’t try to sing the unique song of his people, it just loses something along the way.
A bit like my baking. I could post you a picture of the mothers day cupcakes that my daughter and I tried to make, the ones I managed to grill rather than bake, but the dogs have long-since eaten them and they are now curly brown remnants in the poobags of life.
If there were an award for trying the highest number of different crafts in one year, I’d be your winner. If there were an award for trailing the aisles of Hobbycraft, vainly searching for a thing, a hobby, a craft I stood a hope in hell of being able to master, hey, that’d me be too. But sadly it seems I am destined to be no more than mediocre. If you need proof, here is a picture of the first hat I made my daughter. It is a testament to her love for me that she valiantly wore it to school every day for a month before I did the decent thing and hid it.
You see? There's no need to be kind. I get it, it's a monstrosity and I have no business wasting wool like that. But it doesn’t stop me. I can’t help myself, I just have to keep making bizarre and godawful creations. The shed is full of them. There are even a couple of them on display around the house. They're like the first drawings your children bring home from nursery school, and you feel obliged to stick them on the fridge. My family do the same with my creations. They're very kind to me, my family.
I've tried them all - crochet, knitting, baking, embroidery, painting, clay modelling, decoupage, pottery painting - I'm equally shit at all of them. Wait! No! I lie! I can do tapestry. I have successfully tapestered(?) at least 4 kit-style scenes of wolly criss-cross delight in my lifetime. Admittedly each has taken about 5 years to complete, but I have done it. I do have a craft niche after all. The only problem is my works of art are now languishing in a mouldy box somewhere, because I have never worked out how to get them from the single flat picture into the wonderfully plump and 3 dimension cushion you see advertised on the packet. For that you need a proper grown up.
So I remain in awe of those working parents who manage to create beautiful things out of nothing, and who can knock up a fancy dress costume from some old tights and a pillow case. Me? I have fun trying and what it all goes wrong, there is always Amazon Prime.