Confessions

The blogs I most enjoy are not the ones that depict a picture-perfect life - much as I enjoy the fantasy of that, I know that this is just not possible for most (all) of us. So it follows that, much as I would love to turn this blog into a catalogue of the best moments, a collection of pictures of tidy rooms and fresh ironing, of homemade bread and pots of tea, I feel compelled to honesty. Today is a day for confessions.

Confession the First: The Pile

It has to be capitalised. It's not a pile. Oh no. It's The Pile. This is a picture of the area beside my bed:

It consists of scraps of fabric from old projects, balls of wool, the swatch for a new pair of socks I'm planning, letters that need replying to, documents which need filing, books, handcreams, jewellery, a bag of essential oils, my spindle and wool for spinning, a spare towel, my slippers, my flip-flops, and lengths of fabric ready to be used, as well as old clothes that need mending or that are past mending and are ready for the rag bag.

To be brutally honest, the Pile was a helluva lot more impressive two weeks ago. I've removed a significant number of items in the rediscovered craftiness of the last two weeks. Please also note that the pile extends under the bed as well.

My challenge is pretty much the same one as always - being constantly torn between on the one hand a desire to get rid of surplus possessions, to simplify everything from my wardrobe to my craft cupboard down to practical, beautiful essentials which contribute towards my goal of living a purposeful, efficient yet meaningful and uplifting life - and on the other hand, a reluctance to throw things away which still could have function, a desire to repurpose, reuse, adapt, personalise. Which means I get as far as taking old clothes out of the wardrobe, or keeping fabric scraps out of the bin, but not as far as actually DOING anything productive with them!

I have spent most of my evenings for the last week unpicking the seams of four items of clothing which were so stained, worn, torn and moth-eaten (repsectively) that I had resolved to finally convert them into panels for my next next next project, a patchwork quilt. (Never do things by halves. My first patchwork quilt will be super-king sized). I am finally making progress with some of the pile - but I am stumped by the 'superfluous' but still functional clothes. Can I bring myself to cut up perfectly serviceable clothes? My moral dilemma of the week.

Confession the Second: Bloody beeswax

One of the crafty projects that has been on my list for sometime was making homemade candles. I've watched Kirsty Allsop do it, and it seemed really basic - melt wax, add essential oils for scent, pour wax into containers with wick inserted. Allow to cool. It seemed so easy.

At first, it was rather hypnotic - I was moved to take a photo of the melting beeswax, which also smelled lovely. But then I came rather unstuck with pouring the wax - the wicks I had bought from the craft shop sort of floated around. My boyfriend came to the rescue, improvising with a teaspoon and a couple of toothpicks, and the wicks were in place. I thought the worst was over - BUT NO!

Oh woe, woe and thrice woe. For I have STILL not got the bloody beeswax off the plastic measuring jug I used for pouring the wax. I have tried freezing it, which is supposed to make the wax harden and crack off. I have tried soaking and scrubbing it in boiling water, alcohol, baking soda and washing up liquid, individually and in combination. The jug sits on the side in the kitchen, looking sorrowfully at me, and reminding me to give it a hopeful bath every time I do the washing up. Each day, it becomes infinitessimally cleaner but it's definitely not wax-free yet.

Gentle readers, take heed - do not put melted beeswax in an implement you intend to use for cooking. Have a beeswax jug in the corner of some cupboard which can live with a crust of wax.

I think that's enough honesty for today! I'm off to ignore the pile of projects and do some knitting.

Winter is most definitely here

You might have noticed that winter is most definitely arrived. The bed has been turned into a shrine to the God of duvets, blankets and hot water bottles, and we are extremely grateful for the semi-finished-but-still-functioning curtains, which are very noticeably and substantially aiding the insulation of the house.

Work has become super-super busy. 8.30am to 7.30pm or later. Add to that the client drinks and other networking events I am expected to attend, and my free time shrinks to almost zero. Hence why I'm so behind-hand on blogging - and on my emails, messages etc. Balance? The scales are totally to one side. I can be there for my work but not my boyfriend, for my family but not my friends... Does anyone have any magic beans that give you the ability to balance all the things you want to do with and for the people you love, the things that make you who you are and the things that can take you to who you want to become?

No? Well, at least I've got a pair of socks that are comfy and warm. Baby steps, yes? I might not feel in control of my life but at least I'm in control of what I wear under my shoes. (Erm. Yes. Very profound.)

Slow living cannot be rushed

There is nothing more tragic than having to throw away an entire unsliced loaf of fresh homemade bread.

Totally screwed up by rushing and/or being overambitious this week: one pair of net curtains, almost finished but now hours of unpicking and resewing away from completion; one loaf of homemade bread which was not given enough attention; one Saturday afternoon which should have been relaxing but wasn't.

Of bandwagons and baking soda

I so want to go no poo. I so want to do it. I want to walk into a room and have someone go, wow your hair looks nice, and feel smug about my no-poo-ness. I have been trying to master this for years. There is generally a 2-6 week transition period, while your hair gets used to the no-poo. I once went three whole months without washing my hair in anything but water, and it was still yucky. I have switched over to other methods (baking soda and vinegar rinses, conditioner only, good old fashioned soap) countless times and always end up back on the shampoo.

Making the unusual habitual

It is so easy to feel that whatever we are doing is not enough - there are so many fantastic examples out there on the web of things people make themselves. I recently saw a tutorial for making a seriously professional-looking wallet. I fully expect to see someone posting about making their own umbrella at some point.

Bread failure

I had another shot at bread again today - not so successful. It entirely failed to rise, and is burnt on the top but uncooked in the middle. It's just about ok as toast, but my sandwiches will not be amazing this week.

Homemade bread sounds and smells so amazing, but sadly the final product is rarely as good as the smell foretells. I'm not quite sure what has gone wrong. Last week, I left the dough to rise on top of the oven, and I thought that was too hot and dried it out too quickly, so this week I added more moisture and left it to rise on the table. Nada.

Too many linseeds? Not enough sugar? Too much salt? Should I try adding more yeast? Next week, I plan to 'go back to basics' - make the very simplest dough imaginable, not adding extras like buttermilk and honey. Fingers crossed that will do the trick! I just hope that the oven isn't on the blink again...

Looking for alternatives

I'm actually feeling a little bit annoyed with myself - because yesterday, I had the opportunity to challenge myself to find an alternative to muffin cases. After all, there were cupcakes before cupcake cases (I presume, anyway!) When a friend made several very practical and frugal suggestions, including one I could have implemented without making any additional purchases, I felt a little bit ashamed that I didn't think of them. I guess I still have a way to go in thinking outside the box.

In many cases, this comes down to focusing on the result you want to achieve - preventing the cakes from sticking to the tray - rather than the tools the recipe tells you to use.

Well, thanks to my friend's suggestion, I will look carefully at muffin cases and at her suggested alternatives, and make a selection that balances practicality with frugality. I think I may go for baking parchment, which I can cut into squares and use. I think this will be more cost-effective than cases.

One good thing did come out of my search - I didn't find cases last night, but I did find affordable gelatine sheets, which I have seen in several recipes but been unable to find to date.

Systematic failures

I've been thinking recently about the systems we put in place, and how they affect daily life, both at home and at work. This is partly inspired by Rhonda's post on organisation and turning over a new leaf, but also by developments at work.

I am a rather disorganised person. I occasionally have a whirlwind tidy and clean, which leaves everything immaculate and tucked away. (My boyfriend refers to these as my 'Monica moments'.) The rest of the time, I let things pile up. I have generally just beaten myself up for not being 'good' enough at maintaining the space I live in (both physically and mentally) but recently I have been wondering whether it might be more to do with the systems I have in place to deal with problems that arise. More specifically, the fact that I don't have any systems, or any routine.

I see the effects of poorly-designed operating systems daily at work, where essentials are never where they need to be, and teams replacing one another on a shift system are never fully staffed, fully trained, fully equipped or fully up to speed with the current situation. Even small things like not being able to find a working pen can set us back a considerable amount of time, and increase stress levels.

So, learning from my work, I would like to introduce one positive behaviour change at a time to introduce some more structure into my reactions to developments in my professional and personal life. Please feel free to come forward with suggestions.

The times, they are a-changing

So the move is almost upon us, and I can proudly announce that I will be moving house in the most eco-friendly way possible - by train. (That's not the reason, it's actually cheaper because my boyfriend gets these vouchers from work, which give him money off green stuff like train travel). However, the flipside of this is that I can only take what I can carry with me - one suitcase and a big rucksack. That's not a huge amount of stuff, but we're leaving some here.

So there's a lot of emotional stuff flying around right now - I've had an interesting year here, and I think I've learned a lot, but I also feel that I let a lot of opportunities pass me by. Places I didn't go, museums I didn't see, people I didn't befriend as thoroughly as I could have... Some of it was beyond my control - I spent a lot of this spring helping my parents with stuff, but a lot of it was just due to laziness, bluesiness and apathy on my part. I have an ongoing problem with apathy, and it frustrates me no end because I feel that by this age I should be able to get on with tackling problems like a sane adult, rather than putting my head in the sand and hoping they'll go away!

Somehow, I never manage to convert this sense of general regret into a determination to get more out of the next experience - always the apathy and always the sense of lost opportunities. But I'm going to try, this time. Maybe I should make a list? :-)

Small Differences

So today, for a variety of small reasons all mounting up, I've been feeling a bit down. The fates have an acute sense of timing, and I will find myself unemployed in a terrifyingly short space of time at a moment when I really can't run back to my parents place and hide under the covers, which has always been my Plan B up to this point. It's not just that I can't, but that I don't want to be dependent on them. I want to find a way to make the life I want in the place I want, which right now is here. However, the Gods of the Job Market have their own priorities right now, which include laughing in my face a lot.

As a by-product of this, budgeting is getting tighter and tighter, and I'm looking towards a summer in which I will struggle to eat a balanced diet, and it certainly won't be organic. The budget has also proved a stumbling block in some of my other project areas. For example, growing my own food: I need to invest in containers and potting compost, as I can't compost my kitchen scraps (grrrrlandlordgrrrrrr) and also in seeds and seedlings. I've got some growing, but they'll need potting up into larger containers at some point, and I might just have to risk the landlord's wrath and plant them on the edge of the lawn. I'd love to make my own clothes and soft-furnishings, but as I don't have any worn out clothes to play with, I'd have to buy fabrics, and I'd also have to buy a sewing machine. (More on my lustings after a Singer sewing machine later).

All this means that many of the things that make me smile and feel that I'm making a difference in the world, many of the projects which were making me skip with anticipation, will have to be put on hold for probably a good long while. Although I will almost certainly be asking Father Christmas for a Singer sewing machine for Christmas.

However, I was procrastinating by reading some of the old posts on No Impact Man's blog, and thinking gloomily that the tea in my mug was neither fair-trade nor organic, and could only be called local in comparison to Mars. And I came across this post. It's a beautiful parable, and I'm going to ask myself to think of one thing I've done each week which has made a small difference.

This week, I cycled to work instead of taking the tram. That's a small change, but a change.