frowny baby

It was week 5 and I didn’t take a 52 photo.

In a week when my redundancy notice dropped onto my desk, and the tears threatened to spill every day, I found it difficult to find the enthusiasm to remember the things that made me smile.  I didn’t do a lot of smiling last week.

And that in itself made things worse.  I can’t escape from the guilt that overtakes me everytime I feel a little bit low.  Because I’m alive and I’m young and I’m healthy, and I should be grateful for that every single day.

But Friday night reminded me that there are things that lift the cloud.  I took Mum and Dad to see Nanci Griffith at The Lowry as a late Christmas present.  I can’t say that I’m a massive Nanci fan, but from the minute she walked onto the stage and kicked off with ‘The Speed of the Sound of Loneliness’ I felt better.  Live music can do that.  Live music played by someone completely at ease on stage - someone who has been doing this all of her life - definitely can.  I remembered watching a programme on the BBC where she told the story behind ‘Love at the Five and Dime.’  She talked about Woolworth stores, chewing gum, love, and making her guitar strings chime like the ping of an elevator bell, and then she sang a perfect version of a perfect song.  I loved it.  When she sang dance a little closer to me on Friday night, those tears finally did spill over, but for all the right reasons.

So this week I’m remembering that on those days when a smile is difficult to conjour, the right song can melt your heart and make the day better.  And I’m remembering why I’m doing this.  Because there always is something that can make the day better if you look for it.

And this week, in lieu of a photograph, here’s a perfect version of a perfect song.

About a year ago, I looked at a poor, neglected white painted door in our house and thought how lovely it would look if I stripped all the paint off it.

With the very best of intentions, I took myself off to B&Q and stalked the aisles for paint stripping implements and concoctions. I read the tins and digested the miraculous claims that the contents would devour 13 layers of paint in one stitting, and I resolutely ignored D’s suggestion that, while their contents might be capable of eating 13 courses, they probably watched their waistline and settled for just the one. I made my purchase and set to work. This is what said door looks like one year later.

To be continued…. 52/04, originally uploaded by Frowny Baby.

It appears D was right.

People had queued up to tell me that stripping paint was tough and required a lot of elbow grease. I was, I admit, hoping for a miracle cure. Because I don’t have a lot of grease in my elbow. And besides, IT SAID 13 LAYERS!

Unfortunately, the door is just one of many jobs that need to be tacked in our lovely old Edwardian house. Just one of many. Did you hear that?

Many.

It is therefore, a shame that D and I are not exactly gold medalists when it comes to motivation. A usual exchange goes something like this.

Me: We need to paint that room today.

Him: Mmm.

Me: Shall we have a cup of tea?

Added to that, I don’t score highly on the ‘completer finisher’ scales. Are you familar with Belbin? Doesn’t matter if you’re not - you just need to understand one thing…..

It doesn’t bode well for the door.

That bloody door taunts me every morning as I leave for work, every evening when I come home, and every single time I set the alarm and have to exclude one of the zones because the bloody thing won’t shut (its handle being removed and sitting on the 80s fireplace that we need to rip out).

But, HA HA, I have a plan. Nemesis door, you shall be defeated. In search of a project for my stained glass class, I looked at the half painted door and thought how lovely it would look if I replaced its boring old plain glass with beautiful new leaded panels.

So I’m making beautiful new leaded panels, and that’s inspiring me to finish the door.  And do you know what? It WILL look lovely when I’ve stripped all of the paint off and replaced the glass. Just you watch.

I’m thinking it’s time to give the blog a makeover.  I’ve never been happy with it - lets face it, I never will be - but I think it’s time for two columns.  Now to find a blog skin with no bollocks all over it.

What is it about doorsteps that seems to stop you from doing the things that are right on them?

A couple of years ago, D and I decided that we needed to stop missing out on the things we walked past on a weekly (sometimes daily) basis, and made plans to visit museums and galleries in this brilliant city that we live in. I looked up opening hours, planned walking tours, and looked at the Manchester tourist information website. It was great, over two weekends we visited Urbis, Manchester Art Gallery, and The Imperial War Museum North….and then things fizzled out.

But I still want to do one of those walking tours, and I shouldn’t need to wait for a friend to visit before I actually get up of my arse and do one. And I want to see inside the Town Hall too, and do the tour of the Bridgewater Hall, and go to the Hat Museum in Stockport, and go to the Air Raid Shelters in Stockport, and I also heard that the tunnels under Manchester Catherdral have been opened up for tours.

There’s tons to do here. Tons. I want to start with the Hat Museum. I’ll let you know what it’s like.

Flump, 52/02, originally uploaded by Frowny Baby.

My Mum taught me to knit when I was a nipper.  Growing up, my arms were stuffed into the sleeves of one of Mum’s creations almost every day and, although I may not have appreciated this at the age of 13, these days I respect the amount of work that went into every cardigan that found its way into my wardrobe.  I also really appreciate the fact that she took the time to pass on her skills to me - skills that were neglected by me for a good 20 years, but which now allow me to ‘make stuff’, and ‘making stuff’ is one of my very favourite things to do.

Last week, I took Flump into the office.  I finished knitting him in early December but, alas, he could not see due to my lack of embroidery skills.  My colleague gave him the gift of sight, and taught me how to do a French Knot, just in case Mr Flump gets any new brothers or sisters (which he might, because he’s so bloody cute).   That lunch break, we discovered a wealth of crafting skills in the department, from baking through to handbag design, and we decided that we should give up on the whole data management thing, and create an arts and crafts empire.  I reckon all of us would rather be doing that actually.

And on the subject of ‘making stuff’, my stained glass class starts up again this week, which makes me stupidly happy.  Before Christmas, D was in the pub with a couple of friends who asked him what present he was getting for me.  I think they were expecting a handbag.

“A soldering iron” he answered.

“Nice one” they replied.  “But seriously, what are you really getting?”

He was, of course, kidding.  I hadn’t asked for a soldering iron at all.  I wanted a grinder.

I love learning about leaded glass, partly for the same reason I love knitting.  ‘Making stuff’ aside, I love knowing that I’m keeping alive a real skill - something that requires knowledge and creativity and should never be allowed to fade.

We welcomed in 2010 with fireworks on a chilly beach in Kildonan, and I can’t imagine a more lovely way to say hello to a new year.  Arran is such a beautiful place.  Kildonan gave us (all too short) sunny spring-like days, snow topped mountains, seals and swans in the bay, open fires, board games, eating and drinking too much with friends, and (for some of our lot) a refreshing dip in the Atlantic to begin the year in shivering style.

My first ‘good things’ picture of the year was taken from the ferry as we left Arran on our way home.  I was sad to leave, but standing on deck with my boy on a bright, crisp day, watching the snowy mountains disappear into the distance was most definitely one of those “why would I want to be anywhere else” moments.

Life is a blessing.  This much I know.

In November, I saw Lou Rhodes play at Band On The Wall.  When I heard her debut album a few years ago, it made me remember what it feels like to find music that burrows in deep and has a lasting emotional hit.  I played it endlessly.  Seeing her live brought that feeling back again, and I sat through the entire set with tears in my eyes.

Listen to any of Lou Rhodes’ lyrics and you’ll hear an honest and simple perspective on life - it’s that simplicity that I find so appealing, and something that I wish I could find for myself.  One of the reasons I found myself in tears through so much of her set was that this simple perspective reminds me so much of Richmal and the way she viewed the world and her life.  She was a person that saw happiness and goodness in the smallest detail and, for a long time (and especially since she died), I’ve promised myself to do the same.

So, this is a convoluted way of explaining a little project I have in mind for 2010.  The title track of Lou Rhodes’ new album is called One Good Thing and is about how she lived through some dark days by finding ‘one good thing’ every single day. This all might sound a bit hippy-dippy, but one of my resolutions for this year is to notice the good things - not just notice them, but to write about them and photograph them too.  It’s all too easy to focus on the negative things in life, but that makes us forget how beautiful it is to be alive.  As I’m writing this, there are no doubt thousands of people across Manchester whining about the snow and how inconvenient it is not to be able to drive along the same stretch of road that they will do for every other day of the year.  I wonder how many of them have stopped to look at how beautiful the city looks with its unexpected fluffiness.

So, in 2010, I’m going to focus on the things that make me happy.  And I’m going to use this blog to document them.

I said last year that I didn’t see the point of making New Year’s resolutions.  Well, I’m allowed to change my mind, and I thought I would this year so these are the things I want to do in 2010….

1. Get fit.  Once this snow buggers off, I want to put those very expensive running shoes back on my feet and banish the belly.  The belly is not good.  I’ve started 2010 at a very unhealthy 11 stones, and that’s not good either.
2. Learn to sew.  This was in my head this time last year, but I didn’t do anything about it.  This year, I’ve already signed up for a beginners sewing class so I WILL master the sewing machine.
3. Make leaded windows for the living room door.  My intermediate class starts this month, and I cannot wait.
4. Experiment with the camera and take more photographs.  I’m toying with the idea of taking a night-school course at Stockport College to see if that goes any better than the OU disaster.
5. Knit something bigger than a hat!  Enough said.
6. Learn to play the guitar again.  This one has been on my list as long as I can remember - will I actually do it this year?
7. Decide what I want to do for a living.  Okay, so this one is being forced on me somewhat by my looming July redundancy, but I haven’t been happy in my job for a while.
8. See my friends more.  There’s no excuse for not doing really is there?
9. Do something - ANYTHING - with my house.
10. Notice the good things.

Number 10 is the most important, and I have a little plan to combine it with number 4 in some way.   More on that one in the next post.