Diversionary Tactics

Having established that DVDs do not count as TV, I can report that today, 36 days into 2012, I have watched NO television, and two DVDs. One of the DVDs I needn't have bothered with only it was lent by a student who thought it might entertain me. I felt, therefore, obliged to watch it, though I suffered several fidgety moments and toyed with the idea of skimming through it and selecting a couple of moments that I could relate in response to the inevitable question, 'Did you like the film I lent you, ma'am?' with the reply, 'Yes, I especially liked the bit when the detectives lifted the dead man's head from the table using a pencil in each ear.'

But I didn't. I was polite in his absence and watched the whole thing thus maintaining a guilt-free conscience.

The biggest issue with not watching TV is filling the hole it leaves with other more meaningful activities, the danger being that non-TV watching can become like TV watching only without the TV in your line of vision a.k.a staring at the wall. I have done a little of this, and although it has been mildly therapeutic in a meditative kind of way, I now recognise the need to make sure I plan and am proactive in my evening's choice of entertainment and not resort merely to reading, Sudokuing and generating stuff for school. (Although I have enjoyed the reading enormously! I never complain about reading too much.)

To this end, and inspired by a magazine article and a craft blog I discovered, I set about trying to find an arts and crafts club thingy to join that was local, and failing that, an arts and crafty adult education thingy at the local adult education centre. And I drew a blank on both.

This led me to think I ought to set up my own arts and crafts club. You know, meet up once a fortnight, share ideas and skills, have a bit of a gossip and a bit of cake etc etc.

And whilst I was thinking about this today, I got Andy to get my Gran's sewing box from the loft. I say 'box' but it's more like a little table made from a box and a drawer and set on legs. It looks 1950s style and I rescued it from Gran's house when she died in 1986 before it got slung away as rubbish. I had always intended to have a go at refurbishing it by ripping out the linings and replacing them and tidying up the varnish. Start with the easy bit, I thought. Get the lining out and replace that.

Easier said than done. The lining in the drawer came out easily enough - a piece of stiff card covered in fabric and glued down with what I can only describe as horse glue. It came off pretty well with the aid of a cheese knife in the shape of a small machete.

But the lining in the main box was attached with small rusted tacks and more horse glue about half an inch thick and very reluctant to part company with the wood. Also, the lining around the sides of the box seemed to be attached to corrugated cardboard which was very reluctant to being teased off in one piece. However, once I'd started a-ripping and a-cheese-machete-hacking I had to carry on.

It was a messy job. I scraped a knuckle. A couple of patches of glue refused to budge and I suspect that when the sewing table eventually disintegrates, those two patches of glue will remain intact, hovering in the air and defying anyone who approaches them with a full-sized machete, let alone one built for the slicing of Stilton.

I cleaned and polished the outside of the table as best I could but I can't help but think the varnish could do with being stripped off completely, the wood rubbed down and the whole thing repainted/ revarnished/ refinished some other decorative way. And that would involve, I suspect, the use of highly dangerous chemicals and/or a highly dangerous blow torch effort and I'm not quite brave enough to tackle that kind of renovation just yet.

Still considering the Much Malarkey Arty-Crafty Club idea. Not sure of the hows, the whys, the whens and the wherefores yet, but I do know I like the idea.

Tat's Away!

I continue my war against extraneous tat chez le Manoir, but instead of 'War By Frenzied Flinging' which featured a lot in 2010, I have adopted the more subtle approach of 'War By Subtle Nuance.' This involves a more day-to-day process whereby I chip away in a 'drip, drip,drip' kind of way rather than having to wind myself up for an eight hour sift 'n' sort marathon which generally leaves me physically and emotionally exhausted (I still can't bring myself to get rid of my wedding dress), covered in dust and smelling like a musty cupboard in a second-hand bookshop.

What I do is this:

1) if I open a cupboard or drawer, I think, 'What is in here that I can get shot of?' and I have a quick shufti and select something, then consign it to either rubbish bin/ recycle bin/ charity bag.
2) if I go past a book shelf, I stop and think, 'Which book have I read and am never going to read again?' and I select one and consign it to the charity bag/ pile for other people to have a look at in case they want to read it. Obviously, I adopt this approach only if it's one of my bookshelves. I daren't 'relocate' any of Andy's books because I suspect that even though he has several hundred, he knows exactly where each and every one is and if one went missing he would know and I would have A LOT to answer for, m'lud
3) once a week I look in my wardrobe or chest of drawers and think, 'what haven't I worn for ages/ am too fat or thin to wear/ makes me look like a bag lady or tart' and I put an item in the charity bag

Just before Christmas, we made £115 by selling old DVDs, CDs and a mobile phone on line by using this process.

Today, I have turfed out three things from a cupboard in the kitchen, and a book.

Yesterday, I bought 4 books, which slightly negates the purpose of cutting down on my book collection, but I console myself that a) I had Waterstone's vouchers to spend from Christmas and b) at least I've got a bit of space on my bookshelves to put them in.

So I bought a book on making soft toys for I have a whim to create in 3-D all the characters from Nearly King Jimbo. I can see them now - NKJ himself, Alice, the Queen and King Andy, Mr Jobble, Mrs Bobbinflaxenfluff, Farmer Seed and his wife Annie, Bob the Cat, Prince Jimbo of Titbury von Streudelheim the prize-winning angora goat and Mick the Dog. Don't ask me why; I have these thoughts sometimes and whilst I ought to learn to say 'Avaunt ye, crazy thought! Get back to the dark recesses of mine mind,' because these thoughts often result in the acquisition of more extraneous tat, this one got past my internal tat filter. Besides, I like sewing.

And I bought Janet Street-Porter's latest book 'Don't Let The B*****ds Get You Down,' because her last book 'Life's Too F*****g Short,' was very entertaining and I find JSP quite inspirational in an odd sort of way. And she, too, is very keen on getting rid of extraneous tat.

And I bought two novels which promise to be funny and entertaining, yet ever-so-slightly literary at the same time.

So my Waterstone's vouchers are spent. No more book buying for a while. No more tat.

Arty-crafty

I have, in recent weeks, purchased various craft books including one about knitting fairytale characters, one about fabric painting in various guises (batik, silk screen, marbling...oh, do you remember marbling? One of those magical primary school experiences where you get to blob oil paints in water, add a dash of washing up liquid and then, after a gentle swirl, swoop a sheet of blotting paper across the surface and get all excited, turning the paper over to see what pattern you've ended up with), one about tea cosies and one about quilting. And now, because the Year 11's have left school, and I'm back in the swing of teaching (just in time to leave, oh the irony!), I've got a bit of evening time back again to indulge in doing some arty-crafty stuff.

The thing is, where to start? And what to do with my arty-crafty creations? I thought, I could make Christmas presents. There's a lovely idea for padded silk photo frames in one of the books. But do people like, nay appreciate, home-crafted Christmas pressies? My friend, Sarah, always pitches up at Christmas time with some sort of cakey creation. Always well-received. And we made our own Christmas cards last year which were also well-received; either that, or we've got some very polite friends and family who know how sensitive Andy and I are, and that rejection of our hand-crafted stationery would cause huge emotional distress. (And just in case anyone who received one of our chicken Chrsitmas cards feels like now would be a good time to complain about the shoddy workmanship, be warned - Andy is already drafting out Much Malarkey Manor Christmas 2010 cards, this time with a bee theme - 'Stingle Bells' and 'Ding Dong Merrily on Hive' amongst the current favourites.)

I could book up a stall at a Christmas Craft Fayre. When my sister was in remission from her cancer, just a few months before she died, we had a craft stall at a fayre where we sold toys and other arty-crafty stuff we had made (she was a talented artist with a gift for ceramics) to raise money for the hospital unit in London where she was being treated. We had a great time! We also sold out. And raised a nice bit of cash, too.

And given that I am going to be officially unemployed (again!) at the end of August, utilising my craft talent mightn't be a bad idea.

You see, I've come to the conclusion that teaching, for all its aggravations and annoyances, and stressiness and angst, is relatively easy money. From a personal point of view, because it hasn't been my vocation since I left school, it's made me lazy and complacent and because of the current state of the education system in Kent where I am no longer a teacher but a 'learning facilitator', it has stopped me from caring about the art of teaching because you are no longer allowed to be creative. It's knocked the instinct for survival from me, too. The instinct for survival I had to employ when I became a single parent, and EVERY single penny DID count, and I gained a certain pride for being able to budget, and make do and mend and be creative with what I had to make it go further.

There's nothing like sailing close to the wind financially to make you more alive to living.

So, knitting needles out, sewing machine at the ready. I can feel a craft surge coming on!