Why Handmade is the new Harrods

Day 88

Spent the afternoon out yesterday with my friends from college, Carole and Diane, and had a lovely time. Aren't good friends just the best gift in the world? Went round 'Unpopular Culture' - the Grayson Perry curated art exhibition (fabulous), then onto 'Hansel und Gretel', a little Swiss shop with a cafe in it's basement, for coffee and strudel. Talked A LOT! You'd think I hadn't spoken to anyone for weeks!

Mind you, being quiet is something I've never been very good at. At school, I was always sent to the back of the class so my chatter wouldn't drive the teachers mad. Even at college last year my tutor told me how quiet it would be once me and my mate Sarah (just as bad) had left. "You'll miss me" I said. "Yes I know I will, but it will still be quiet" he replied. Thanks Dave.

Steve is at his phsycho-babbler course today and the house is a tip, so have a lot to do. Bought the last few bits and bobs to finish my homemade Xmas presents with yesterday, and intend to do that this weekend as well.

Have been watching 'Kirstie's Homemade Christmas' on the telly, hoping for good ideas. Bit of a waste of time. She seems a nice woman, and I really love her simple enthusiasm for everything festive, but money saving she ain't. Has she any clue at all what coping with Christmas means for most of us?

The most ridiculous thing she showed us as an 'economy,' was going to a glass blowers and blowing your own tree baubles! On what planet is that cheaper than a pack of six from Asda, gussied up with a bit of extra glitter and a bow you saved off the only bunch of flowers you ever got sent? Honestly, rich people, I don't know!

Cheap is gathering pine cones from the woods, then buying a 50p bag of birdseed and making your own bird feeders - bit of cellophane, bit of ribbon, bish bosh, job's a good 'un. Or picking up those empty wine boxes free from the supermarket, and then painting them to look like chimney stacks to stick all the pressies in and save on wrapping. (This is only cheaper if you have all the paint already like I do, obviously).

Still, I did like her hand embroidered table napkins - very festive - even if she did cheat and get other people to do them for her, (oh, the time pressures of being on the telly!). And she has made it look as if homemade is cool and chic, which is good news for me as that's all my family are getting, so thank you for that, Kirsty.

Still, time's moving on, and in these days of shallow daylight, the sun is almost over the yardarm already and I am not even dressed yet. Better get on. Cheerio.

"It's time to get political" said the teacup

Day 69

"It's time to get political", said the teacup - this is the last thing I remember from my dream last night. There was also a large, sequined, Disney-style dragon thing, that was actually Eeyore, or possible a real donkey, but ever so nice and not gloomy at all. Then along came the teacup and saucer, which I remember thinking about yesterday as I wanted my friend Rebbecca to put a candle in it, (but I don't recall thinking about a donkey), but anyway the teacup was there, complaining about being too silly, and suggesting 'improvements', and I think there was a theme park or a village fete or something. So is it any wonder that I wake up disorientated and foggy and out of sorts?

Had a bad night anyway. Couldn't sleep because my skin was crawling with irritability and my emotions were boomeranging around hormonally, and I kept wanting to cry and scream and scratch all my skin off. This happens sometimes. Steve talked kind nonsense to me until I was exhausted enough to fall asleep. Even then, I kept waking up and struggling to sleep again, until too early this morning when I was disturbed by the alarm on his phone and I promptly snapped at him - although I'm hopeful that displaying such ingratitude was actually part of my weird dream, I rather suspect it wasn't.

(Not going to ask, don't want to know, feel too embarrassed. Especially as when I did get up, he gave me a hug and brought me a poached egg on toast.)

Yesterday was fairly unproductive. Totally failed to get on with making the Christmas pressies because everything I did turned out wrong, and when I tried to fix things I made them even worse. I showed one of the results to Steve, who usually says "oh isn't that nice" about everything so he's not a very impartial critic, but even he said "oh dear", and admitted it wasn't up to standard. Will start all over again today. Fingers crossed.

I remember a time when, if I got something horribly wrong, I would be assailed by thoughts of uselessness and inadequacy. I would beat myself up, concluding that "I couldn't get anything right", and even if I couldn't hear those thoughts clearly, I would still feel terribly down, discouraged, flat, and disenchanted.

Well, enough of that! I know my parents didn't think much of my capabilities, but I don't have to perpetrate what they started. These days I allow myself the freedom to make mistakes, have good days and bad days, pick myself up when I fall down and try again, only differently, with more effort, allowing my creativity freer rein, or taking better care. I no longer use failure as an excuse to doubt myself, but as a means of self-improvement. I choose to learn from the mistakes in order to do things better, and as this is hard to do if one is heavy with self-doubt and disappointment, then sod that for a game of conkers.

So, a clean slate, a fresh outlook, a new day - let us see what they can bring. I may only be making silly hand-made Christmas presents, but if all my heart and soul and care and thoughtfulness goes into the creating of them, then I am truly giving a gift, aren't I?