I started crocheting about 6 years ago. I was living in London, at home with my daughter Ruby, living out all the things that raising a small person entails. I had this overwhelming desire to make. When you’re with a little person day in day out, the day falls into a rhythm of repetitive tasks, feeding, laundry, changing, nappies, feeding, food shopping, doctors appointments, entertaining the little person when waiting, or travelling, or at home and then… the housework. At the end of the day, you clear up everything (ok, sometimes you clear up a bit) and the following morning you’re back to zero, with punctuated sleep. You can feel like you’re getting nowhere. I wanted to be productive and I wanted something that was for me, I wanted to find a ‘thing’. I did workshops and courses in cake decorating, knicker making (!), bag making, overlocking, I got a shiny new sewing machine and failed to get to grips with it, and then, when I was pregnant with George, with just a week to go, I went to a crochet class.
I was rubbish. Holding the yarn, trying to chain, I. just. could. not. do. it. I got home pretty frustrated but determined and with the help of the internet, a demonstration from a friend, books, videos and daily practice in between life with the newest addition, I finally mastered it. It has become ‘my thing’ and is a craft I don’t honestly feel I can ever tire of. I love crochet’s versatility, I love the way the stitches look, I love putting colours together and I love that it has international appeal and thanks to the internet connects people all over the world.