For some months I haven’t being able to craft – sew, scrapbook, knit or cook properly. Yes, I consider cooking to be a craft. My kitchen was at times, incognito, apart from opening the odd tin of beans, burning some toast or to set the microwave on fire with something I forgot about. I’m easily distracted!

My stash has been stashed away, shoved under armchairs, crammed in the odd cupboard or put somewhere that I forgot about entirely. Let’s not talk about the wasted minutes, hours, or even days, when I trailed around the house wearing my crafter’s angst expression, looking for those scissors that I must only use for fabric. Or that 12 X 12 paper which I must find because no other will do. All I can do is stare at some goodness and wish for the day to come so I can get crafty. The irritablity will surely wear off then? And I’ll sleep better surely? This may all seem quite dramatic but I assure you when a project is whirling around in our minds, we don’t sleep like a log cat.

You creative types will know what I’m talking about! Or maybe our loved ones will perhaps?  In our angst, we walk around the house wearing that forlorn look, just listen to that slight sigh in our breath, or the ever-so-quiet wailing. If they listen carefully, they can just about detect it! But our loved ones are used to it, so they sigh along with us, in sympathy. And just maybe, if your partner is like mine, he/she will tut-tut-tut and shake his/her head knowingly, in just the right places.

My time has come; I have been found. Or rather my stash has been gathered up, organised, stuffed put in its relevant slot/basket/tub. This was two days ago and I’m on the crafters edge. For various reasons, I haven’t been able to make a start.  But I’m all organised for goodness sake! Harry isn’t well and the outside world seems to want a huge slice of my time at the moment.

Tuesday, is a day I’ve set aside to create something.  As I look at my sketch pad, I know I have hundreds of ideas floating around or indeed, sketched.  However, I’m up early writing this post as Harry has been awake most of the night with earache, so it’s off to see the GP for us a little later. Poor Harry.

In the meantime, I’ll wail a little (only a little!), I won’t sigh too much and will take some evening primrose oil for the irritability. I promise.