It’s been a pretty crazy busy couple of weeks, what with trips to Oxford and Bethnal, family birthdays, Christmas preparations, and general life happenings. So today I took a little time out, and went to see a very dear friend of mine. This friend is diving headlong, in her typically unflappable way, into all sorts of new things – a new baby and a new home, all in the last 5 weeks. You can’t really get much newer, can you? So I had the pleasure of sitting and jiggling (gently) the new baby while my friend unpacked the boxes into her new cupboards, in her new house. All this newness is just taken in her stride. She’s pretty awesome, my friend.
I’ll be honest, sometimes new worries me. The familiar is reassuring, you know exactly where you are and what you’re doing. But new is unknown, and sometimes scary. New means giving up the old, and I like the old. Obviously, we like old stuff. It’s pretty much essential to what we do. But I am also a creature of habit, I like routine, I like knowing. That’s hard to do with new stuff. You have to take a little risk.
I’m working on an old chair at the moment – it’s being revitalised for a very special customer. When all the old covers were taken off, it’s fair to say this chair looked pretty sad. At this point it’s easy to think – ‘should I just have left it alone? How am I going to make this better? Was the old in fact better than both how it is now, and how it’s going to be in the future?‘ But by this point, there’s no going back.
You’ve got to keep going. Run with the risk, and see where you end up. Already, with a bit more stuffing and some fresh calico, Mr Chair is looking a hundred times better:
I like this stage in upholstery – old damage fixed up, fresh and clean and ready for the next bit. Whatever that might be.