As a diversion from full-on boredom, I have been making wire rings. In fact anything that could have wire wrapped around it (garden furniture, teabags, the cat) has wire wrapped around it.
I sit on the edge of my bed, back straight so as not to flout any physio laws, breath tightly held and lip bitten, as I twist silver plated and gold plated wire around widowed earrings who lost their partners a long time ago, or broken rings and glass beads. Such is this nigh-on obsession that I am wondering what the outcome will be. In six weeks time I shall be drowning in costume jewellery with balls of wool and crochet hooks tangled in my borrowed back brace. And what for? Well, this is the biiiiig question. Basically because I absolutely love it. I love this feeling that I reckon I must have been squishing for the majority of my life. Well, apart from the time I ordered a crappy little sewing machine from the Daily Mirror or somewhere, with a view to making my own clothes – which ended up in the bin two years later because I couldn’t figure out how to thread the bobbin; and the time I painted a box and stuck glass jewels on it thinking it was a work of art (it wasn’t); and the mosaic that took me 8 years to complete and still produces a lot of sarky comments by friends.. ‘why don’t you do another mosaic Chlo?’ snigger, snigger, snigger…I feel like I’m on a roll, a creative roll, I have finally realised that I don’t have to produce amazing works of art (which is lucky) and that it doesn’t matter if I don’t have a ‘speciality’, that this whole process of just discovering how much FUN it is to create is enough, whether with wire, wool or wood.. it is wonderful.