Crafting

Ali Jones / Writer, broadcaster, and housebus adventurer /@housebusdylan / @dylanthehousebus

 Dozens of first prizes for quilting, many more second and thirds for a wide range of beautifully crafted items, including cross-stitched cushions and upcycled jewellery – these are things I can only dream of. Along with running and drawing, crafting is something I have wanted to be able to do forever. 

The problem is that I seem to love the idea of being able to do it far more than actually doing it. My friend Rhondda who is amazing at all things crafty used to run craft nights where friends would bring anything – knitting, felting, making soap – and we would natter and casually glance at the mess of a project someone was doing, cooing at the artistic skill and imagination. None of that in my corner, though. I am an absolute numpty when it comes to crafting, and I am so disappointed in myself. 

It’s something I feel I should be good at. It takes focus, exactness, and imagination – I have those things in spades. The issue is, if it takes more than ten minutes to see an outcome, I’m done. As a little girl, I didn’t stick with ballet because we didn’t get to the twirling fast enough; the guitar was a total washout after a few lessons because I couldn’t play a recognisable tune, and as for the recorder – well, we can all be grateful that only lasted a week.

So, here’s the thing – they say it’s not the destination that matters; it’s the journey. It’s not how good you are at something or how it turns out; it’s the socialisation, sharing, nattering, and doing something you’re not naturally good at that matters. Well, I wish I thought that, but I don’t. I see no point in doing something unless you can at least achieve a passable result. I used to take a jigsaw to the craft nights – I can do those quite well. The best bit is being able to laugh at yourself and others which is why I love those cake-fail Facebook pages – hilarious. 

I have bags full of crafting projects started and not finished; most are not started. Rhondda often asks me how the advent calendar I meant to make for our daughter, born in 1998, is coming along. Slowly, I say, very slowly.