Picnic Ponderings

Apologies for not posting sooner, but truth be told, I’ve felt utterly wrecked all week. I’ve been going to bed at 8pm because I’ve been nodding off on the sofa, then not sleeping properly because both my neck and lower back have been painful. So, my brain has also been fried and concentrating on anything for very long has been hard.
Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to write something that makes what I achieved on Friday sound like I was climbing a mountain. In the end, I’ve decided that the right adjectives aren’t out there, so just imagine, okay?
By half past eight on Friday morning, I was aware of every car going past, even though B wasn’t due to pick me up until 9.30. I packed and repacked my huge wicker basket with knitted food, stuff to knit while I was there, my mp3 player, a little tin with my tablets in, a bottle of water – the list goes on. When I thought I was ready, I stood at the window, my thoughts swirling. “Do I take that yarn? Maybe I should take a book – what about…” and so it went on. Eventually I said out loud to myself – “stop it. There’s only so much room in the car…”
The car journey was uneventful anxiety wise, we chatted about all sorts of things which helped, and affirmed the knowledge that B is very understanding. In fact, B should stand for brilliant. She reassured me by telling me what and who would be there, and told me that there were quiet corners in the place where we would be (an old converted church). I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel strange being out without Mr D, but even stranger, I didn’t feel too terrible about it. Of course, I felt like something was missing, but once I got there and saw all the familiar faces from the knitting group, I was fine.
I took a few photographs, and sat down with the knitters. At first, I fumbled with bits and pieces, noticing that my hands were a bit shaky, but eventually settled down with the most Amazing Sock Yarn Ever. Casting on and doing some of the rib helped me concentrate. I know that’s avoidance rather than dealing with it – but to be honest, I didn’t care. I just wanted to enjoy my day.
A woman from the local newspaper turned up, and once she’d interviewed the organisers, she frustratedly lamented that her photographer had gone missing. My inward sigh of relief was shortlived – she pulled out a compact camera from her bag and announced “I’ll just take a few photos”. That, I thought, was a perfect opportunity to nip to the loo…
Four hours went over so incredibly quickly. When a voice piped up, “right, d’you think we should start packing up?” my response was “what, already???” Just as we were about to take things out to various cars, a flustered young man walked in and announced he was the photographer for the local paper. Torn between staying and lusting after his camera (a Canon EOS 1D if you want to drool with me) I chickened out and opted for the comfort of the lavatory again. When I later told Mr D, he joked that now I’ve been in the Guardian, the local rag isn’t good enough!
I know it sounds so utterly ordinary, but it was a big step for me. Plus, the ordinary-ness means that it was a success. No panic or madness, unless you count accidentally stealing Carrie Anne’s lemonade..

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Picnic Ponderings

  1. Mary says:

    yay, absolutely big step! Nice one! Hiding in the loos at the threat of camera-clickage does in no way count as giving in, it just makes you ordinary 🙂

  2. Roxy says:

    Oh well done you and as for hiding in the toilets I would have been there with you and I don’t suffer anxiety. Many people will hide to avoid bing in the newspaper especially if you were just there for a day out with like minded knitters.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s