I've just read my last post. I am having an epiphany (no, that's not a character in Eastenders - silly). It's a moment of revelation.
I have tipped my personal balance from the thrill of finding the perfect outfit/handbag/haircut/cushion/duvet/ginger-chocolate biscuit to the love of making and knitting and stitching and faffing about with tiny scraps of fabric and paper.
It's been obvious for a while, of course, but Monday's trip to Bath (tragic) to today's stitchy workshop in Stroud (magic) has made it crystal clear. I'd much rather be making things than buying things.
That's not to say I can't be tempted by a bit of art/craft retail therapy. Take me to any market town and I'll sniff out the stationery/art/craft/fabric related establishments within 30 seconds of leaving the (usually very expensive) car park.
However, rails of identikit accessories and generic garments just leave me cold. There is, however, a problem. I am neither young enough, slim enough or stylish enough to carry off outfits made from a pair of curtains and some ironmongery - I am not a Von Trapp. What am I to do? When I wear vintage, it looks like charity shop. I stick to boring jeans, the occasional interesting piece of knitwear and my rapidly thinning boots. I am, frankly bored with my clothes but don't know where to turn.
I want, somehow to transfer my love of making objects and things, to making clothes but although I love(d) the handmade quality of the clothes made for me as a child. Something tells me I will have neither the patience nor the skill to turn out something that looks OK. I don't want to make shirts or trousers, just something simple in amazing fabric. Something that looks interesting and well-made.
I can knit and hand-stitch till the cows come home. Clothes are a different matter.
PS: Just cried at 'Strictly' when Laila's leg gave way. How emotional is that?!