Post Christmas ruminations

For various reasons Mr Namasi and I decided to keep Christmas very low-key this year. We were content that both our sons would be joining us. Our elder son works in the hospitality industry and isn't always able to have the time off.

Dinner was pretty much the sort of roast dinner one might serve on any Sunday or Bank Holiday when the family comes to visit.

It was lovely: warm, cosy, unspectacular.

Then...

Christmas day wasn't even over before the emails started coming in to my inbox.

eBay, Preloved, Shpock, Gumtree, the various Freegle/Freecycle and Trash Nothing groups I belong to, charities..."Make money from your unwanted gifts." "Regifting is the new giving." "Don't want it? We'll take it!"

At the same time, everyone appears to be having a sale and I'm being urged on every hand to take advantage of the low prices and buy more stuff. 60% off. 75% off. Free this when you buy that. Free delivery. Spend x and we'll throw in a <something or other>. I'm not sure I can afford to save that much money! 

It's breathtakingly mercenary, isn't it? So unapologetically cynical.

It reminds me of a scene from Jim Carrey's The Grinch Who Stole Christmas:

"Do you know what happens to your gifts? They all come to me... in your garbage. You see what I'm saying? In your garbage! I could hang myself with all the bad Christmas neckties I found at the dump, and the avarice... THE AVARICE NEVER ENDS! "I want golf clubs! I want diamonds! I want a pony so I can ride it twice, get bored, and sell it to make GLUE!""

I don't really consider myself a Grinch, but as an upcycler, I also see the stuff that people throw away. It's one thing when an item has broken or clothing has worn out or been outgrown. But I see what the Grinch sees: stuff that is still perfectly useful. Stuff that someone spent money on. Stuff that the gift giver agonised over choosing (but obviously still got it wrong).

This is the side of Christmas that I don't like. And we can do something about it. Smaller, thoughtfully selected or home made gifts strike a chord that lavish impersonal things just don't. Think back on the memorable gifts in your own life. Which are the standout gifts for you?

So... during the course of this year, why not learn a new skill so that you can make something for your loved ones in 2017? Here are some suggestions:

• Attend a massage course, and give your family vouchers for massages
• Learn to make pamper products (face masks, body lotions etc.) - there are hordes of tutorials on YouTube and Pinterest
• Make a batch of wine/beer/cider
• Learn to work with wood or metal and make a shoe rack, a toy box, a key rack, a table, a <something else>
• Attend workshops on beading, sewing, knitting, crochet, calligraphy and produce something in exactly the right colour, style and size for your loved one
• Improve your baking/cooking skills and give them a promissory note for a home cooked meal with all the trimmings (for them and a plus one)
• Attend a creative writing workshop and write them a story (or a song)
• Learn calligraphy and make a beautiful plaque for their wall, or write a dedication on the fly leaf of a much loved book 

Alternatively - pay for them to attend a programme to learn/improve a skill.

The possibilities are endless...and these are gifts that are unlikely to become property of the Grinch on Boxing Day.

Giving a shout out to the independent businesses and crafters

As an independent crafter, I like to spread the 'link love' and share news of others who are in the same boat.

It was my birthday yesterday, and my friends and family took the trouble to give me gifts that supported small business and independent makers. I'd like to share their details with you. Perhaps you've already finished your Christmas shopping, but there are still birthdays, weddings, graduations, mother's/father's day and so on...

Jacaranda World Wooden Carvings

This beautiful giraffe carving was brought all the way from Cape Town when my son travelled there to attend a recent wedding. It is the work of Dennis Maguma at Jacaranda World Wooden Carvings, and is made from sustainable timber. He has a stall in the Watershed at the V&A Waterfront in Cape Town and can be reached at dennismaguma75@gmail.com.

Steampunk buttons

These pewter buttons came from someone who knows of my weakness for all things steampunk and my love of sewing. They came from Alchemy England. I shall have to think of something fitting to do with them!

Bath time goodies

This selection of handmade bath time goodies comes from FruFru. I'm a shower person 6 days a week. But on a Sunday night, when Mr Namasi is off playing ice hockey, I treat myself to a soak in the tub with my Sudoku. The friend who gave me these took account of my preferred colours and smells and my love of all things lime. As if that wasn't enough, the card that came with this gift was handmade, and included a watercolour portrait of me by an artist called Samantha Crowe.

Sammy's Scribbles

While not strictly a birthday gift, this also arrived today, so I'll include it: a lovely personalised Christmas bauble, hand painted by Henna Exquisite.

The last few months have been hellish for us. I lost my workshop under unpleasant circumstances (as you know), I had a cancer scare, my husband's company was closed down and he was made redundant. But thoughtful, handpicked gifts like this make a world of difference.

Ask the audience

The title of this post is drawn from a popular TV quiz programme in which contestants have the option to ask the studio audience how they would answer the current question. Contestants then have the right to go with the flow, or ignore popular opinion and choose a different answer. A lot money rides on getting it right.

==oOo==

It is said (in a widely contested quote) that if Henry Ford had canvassed people on whether he should build a motor car, they would have said they needed a faster horse.

It seems to me that large corporations spend a lot of money finding out what customers want, and then an even larger sum of money convincing them that they desperately need a product that the corporation produces.

So how much is about listening to your market, and how much is about leading it? If you only listen, you'll produce things that people are already somewhat familiar with. If you allow your creativity free rein and produce something completely innovative and different, you might never persuade people to buy it.

Now I'm not a corporation. I'm just me. As a result, I'm even more directly dependent on people liking the stuff I make enough to buy it. And I don't have a massive budget to spend on market research. I am restricted to straw polls, and reactions to the products I have already made. I am also under some pressure to produce something different and/or original, because I can't compete on price with the mass produced output of the larger corporations.

It's a fine line: it has to be desirable and different, but still mainstream enough to attract a buyer.

Flowering chive

I recently completed a cross stitch of a flowering chive. I had bought the kit from a charity shop (I have a weakness for botanical art). It was far more complex than any of the other cross stitches I have done recently (see below), so it took quite a while to complete. Then came the challenging question: what to do with it?

People don't tend to buy framed tapestries/cross stitch panels any more. I know this, because I have bought several discarded ones from charity shops, with a view to upcycling them. They are currently quite popular upcycled as cushions, bags, clothing, seat covers, etc.

So I posted a picture of the completed panel on my Facebook page and asked my followers what they would like to see done with it. There were some creative suggestions that I would really have liked to try, but I had to be conscious of what would find a buyer.

The most popular suggestion was a cushion cover. So I decided to go with that, but I avoided the obvious approach and went with something asymmetrical with just a touch of the bohemian about it.

Completed cushion cover

Of course, now comes the real litmus test. Will it find a buyer? Did I make the right decision in listening to the audience?

I have bought several miniature cross stitch kits, as well as already completed tapestries and cross stitches, as I mentioned, and I'm having fun turning them into useful items. I haven't yet gone with an item of clothing, but I think that might be next on the agenda.

Jute carrier bag

Cotton book bag

Tea cosy (commissioned item)

Craft bag

I'd be interested to hear from other independent makers, artisans and crafters how they manage the balancing act. Have you found the magic silver bullet?

Note: at the time of writing, some of the items pictured in this post are still for sale. Please contact the author with any enquiries.

There might be a short (or long) hiatus

The last couple of days have been very difficult for me. The brief version is that I have lost my beloved workshop space. You know the cliche 'it never rains, but it pours'? This wouldn't happen while everything else was hunky dory. Oh no! It has to happen while we're trying to sell our house, and while Mr Namasi is trying to find work (in a less than ideal job market) before his notice period comes to an end, following the demise of the business he has been working for. And while I am waiting to find out whether 'the big C' has taken up residence in my body.

Thanks purely to the good grace of a friend, I have somewhere to store my tools and equipment on a temporary basis, but I no longer have a space in which to use them.

Before I was offered the space, I used to work in my garage at home. The resultant mess and clutter, was an ongoing problem - especially once we had put the house on the market.

Then a friend took out a longish lease on a shop space with an attached house and outbuilding (which consisted of a vestibule and two 'rooms').

She set up a business in the shop (unrelated to me) and employed a manager, who was to live in the house with her family.

My friend offered me the use of the larger room in the outbuilding as a workshop. The vestibule and the smaller room served as overflow storage space for the shop and the house.

My special place

I cannot begin to tell you how delighted I was with the arrangement. Of course, it wasn't perfect: I had a working space, but nowhere separate to store my finished pieces, which didn't benefit from the sawdust generated by the work on new pieces. But that was a problem for another day. I pottered away happily in my workshop, even when the light was poor, even when it became so cold that I had to wear double layer jacket to keep warm.

Sadly, things turned sour. I won't go into detail, because there may well be legal proceedings and I may be called upon to give evidence. Suffice to say, my friend and I are still solid - in fact, it is she who has offered me the use of her garage to store my kit. But the tenant of the house has determined that the space I have been using as a workshop is in fact part and parcel of her tenancy agreement, and required me to move out.

So today, we have hired a van and will be moving what we can into our friend's garage. On (ugh) Black Friday. In between doing a delivery run of this lovely piece, which found a happy home, and my husband attending interviews and and and.

Of course, I still have a studio at home, where I can do sewing and beading and all manner of other handcrafts, and I will focus on those for the time being.

Eventually.

When I have picked myself up off the floor.

Bear with me.

On appearing in print

One of my kreations is featured in the December issue of Reloved Magazine, in the section called Creative Hub. I am disproportionately excited about this.

During my time at drama school and 'on the boards', I was mentioned and pictured in various local and national newspapers.

That's me in front on the right

I later appeared in people's living rooms across the (South African) nation every Saturday, during my time as a (rather poor) TV presenter.

Presenter of Lekker Ligte Liedjies

Then, during my quarter of a century as a Learning and Development (L&D) professional, I had several articles published in various sector publications. I was never one of the movers and shakers, but many movers and shakers knew my name - I was even on hugging terms with some of them. I wrote a blog then, too, which was occasionally cited by other bloggers.

In comparison, my tiny little feature in Reloved is very small potatoes. But somehow, I feel just as excited about it as any of the above. I'm not sure why that should be the case, but what the heck. Much delighted squealing and hopping from foot to foot chez Romeis when I saw my mooring rope Christmas tree in print.

Note: at the time of writing, this item is still for sale, please contact the author for further information.

On being unsuccessful

This a somewhat introspective post - normal service will be resumed.

Lately, I've been seeing a lot of those 'habits of successful people' type posts and articles. Things that tell you what 'they' do that you don't. Things you need to change in your life, in order to become successful. But when you look at the people being held up as successful - people whose sterling example we're urged to emulate - most of the time, I reckon they might as well just substitute the word 'rich' for 'successful'.

Are you really successful when you have several failed marriages in your wake? Or when your relationship with your children is dysfunctional? When you make your living off the misfortune of others? If your direct reports at work loathe you or fear you? Is it all about having a guest list that reads like a who's who, even if you trampled the nobodies underfoot in your journey to the top? Is it really successful to have turned your back on people who had nothing to offer you, in order not to be slowed down by them?

I have absolutely nothing against people being rich - it's all relative anyway. I have known some wonderful and downright awful people pretty much across the board. I just don't see that wealth should be held up as the only measure of success. I also don't see why people who aren't rich should be regarded as failures.

There are solid marriages founded on little more than love and mutual respect. There are well adjusted children growing up wearing their older siblings' hand me downs. There are people who are such a pleasure to work with, that their colleagues will go to great lengths to have them on their team for a project. There are people who exude such serenity and tranquillity that just spending time with them feeds your soul.

I won't be reading any more of those lists of habits/behaviours/whatever. I don't want to be like the people idolised by the authors of those articles. Most of them (and there are always exceptions) aren't very nice.

The creative umm err OR from hmm to tada

Madeleine's collar

For an eclectic collection of reasons, ranging from practical to deeply personal, I have been away from my workshop for the past week or so, working from home in my studio.

This has meant a shift from power tools to fine handwork. I guess my sewing machine is a power tool, so I haven't been entirely without them.

It has also meant a shift in output from items made of wood and metal to items made of fabric, thread and beads.

The immersion in a different set of skills with different materials has resulted in some new ideas, which I hope will see the light of day soon. I've found myself rethinking my plans for some of the items in my workshop. Some bits of work were going to become one thing and will now (probably) become another. Just because of the shift in focus.

I haven't deliberately been thinking about this or that piece of wood. It's just that while one part of my mind is focused on the task (quite literally) at hand, another part of my mind wanders off of its own accord. There is no guarantee that it won't come back empty handed. In fact, there's no guarantee that it will come back at all, but that's another story.

I was recently asked to describe my creative process for a feature in a magazine (more of that anon). I have to say I felt like an utter fraud. I don't think my journey from hmm to tada really deserves the word 'process'. That sounds altogether too organised.

The sort of work I do at home is far more likely to have a process behind it, because it often involves patterns. I'll think of a piece of fabric in my stash and ferret out a pattern that will be suitable. Or I'll come across a beading/cross stitch pattern and dig out the materials I'll need to complete it. Following the pattern is like following a process. Of course, I deviate. A lot. Because that's just kind of who I am.

For example, I bought a series of Mouseloft cross stitch miniatures. Once I had completed them all, I turned them into a sort of patchwork carrier bag.

Mouseloft miniatures carrier bag

I liked the finished result, so I took a couple of MJ Hummel cross stitch panels, and turned them into a carrier bag, too.

MJ Hummel carrier bag

Skirt tote bag

But that's not always how it works. I came across a skirt I have (ahem) outgrown. It has a beautiful applique design on it, and I wondered if I could turn that into a bag, too, since I seemed to be on a bit of a roll with bags. I could and I did.

Sometimes it's just a case of needs must. Some time ago, I was making a necklace for my son's fiancee to wear for the wedding (which, in the end, never took place, but that's beside the point). But it transpired, she didn't want to wear necklace for perfectly acceptable reasons of her own. So I set the piece aside.

A few days ago, I came across the various bits of it that had been completed, and thought I might as well finish it. Sadly, somehow, I had lost some of the beads called for in the pattern. So I had to innovate. The finished product (at the top of this post) looks somewhat different from the original design, but I like to think it works.

Do you have a creative process? Do you plot and plan? Or do you fly a bit more by the seat of your pants?

Fly tipping in reverse... or why the Upsycho needs a van

Since moving into full time Upcycler mode, I have developed a distinct tic. Every time we drive past a skip, I practically give myself whiplash, trying to see if there's anything useful being chucked out. There often is, but sadly, I can't usually fit it into my car. I drive a great big monster of a Volvo S80, but its boot (trunk) is smaller than most and its back seat doesn't go flat. Both for the same reason: there is a built-in fridge in my car where the middle back seat should be. Go figure.

A while back, I was taking Jess for a walk, when I spotted a broken pine TV stand on top of the bins (trash cans) of a house not far from mine. I helped myself to it, popping a note through the letter box, in case they hadn't meant to chuck it out. It became two dog beds.

Two dog beds

In the summer, I took my Mom birding at a local sanctuary, and we spotted a pile of trash dumped by the side of the access road. It included two plastic crates that I was sure I could use, but my Mom was so horrified at the mere suggestion, that I didn't retrieve them. I'm so sorry I didn't, because they would have made great dog beds and plastic is a terrible product to send to landfill because it doesn't biodegrade.

Last month, for several days in a row, I saw a very nice armchair dumped by the side of the road on my way to work. Sadly, I just knew it wouldn't fit in the car. A real pity, because it was crying out for an Upsycho makeover. Eventually, the council must have removed it because it (and the rest of the junk dumped with it by a fly-tipper) disappeared.

Two weeks ago, I spotted a tea trolley, dumped on the exit ramp from the local Sainsbury. It was a blind bend with no safe place to stop, so I promised myself that I would go there on foot next time I visited the store, and retrieve it. Someone beat me to it. I hope it was someone who was able to do something useful with it.

Just a few days ago, I spotted a metal item sticking out of the undergrowth beside the A509. It was during rush hour traffic, so I had a full second or two to take in some sort of square section frame and circles. I went back yesterday to investigate.

Half buried in the undergrowth

I dragged it out of the undergrowth and across the road to my car. Such a simple sentence to type. Not such a simple thing to do. The road had been deserted when I crossed it empty handed. But now that I was trying to make it back across the road, carrying two unwieldy metal structures, everybody seemed to want to travel to or from Isham! Finally getting across the road to a clear patch, I laid them down to see what they were.

My hard-won treasures

I hadn't anticipated that right-angled assembly and I had no tools with me to take them apart. Getting them into the car was no mean feat.

Getting them into the car was no mean feat

My Volvo S80 was not designed to do duty as a workhorse

Getting them to my workshop was the easy bit. Once there, I stood them upright and inspected them. I was quite surprised at how tall they are. Over two metres. Perhaps 220cm. One section is bent (top left of the picture below), and there is some rust to remove. Other than that, the frames are in pretty good nick. Obviously that fabric will have to go, but I have plenty in the stash to replace it with.

Over 2m tall!

What I don't understand is why someone dumped them where they did. It can be a dangerous stretch of road. Plus, they could just as easily have taken them to our recycling plant, which has a special section for metal waste. People are weird.

Watch this space to see what becomes of my fly-tip-retrieval.

You know the expression, change is the only constant?

I started this blog to explore the journey in my life-after-learning. Okay, I haven't actually stopped learning - far from it. I hope I never do. But I'm no longer working as a learning professional.

Working as an upsycho was the 'next chapter' of the title. And that is fun, exciting, challenging, interesting...and not terribly lucrative.

But there are other kinds of new chapters in our lives, too.

Mr Namasi and I are fairly new inductees to the Empty Nest Club. The doors to the bedrooms that used to be occupied by our sons now remain (almost) permanently closed. The need for two fridges and an upright freezer has evaporated like the morning mist. The need for two bathrooms, likewise.

The company my husband works for is being wound down as we speak. So he's hitting the 'want ads' as they call them in the movies.

And finally, we're foreigners in a post-Brexit-referendum UK (he's a Swede and I'm some other kind of vegetable). At this stage it's unclear what that will mean for us in the medium-to-long term, and things seem to swing from ominous to business-as-usual on a daily basis.

All the factors taken together made us decide that it was time to up roots and downsize. So we've put our house on the market (here, in case you're interested). We think we'll probably rent for a while, until we know which way is up and how many beans make five. Maybe a nice rural cottage with a big outbuilding. Maybe a park home. Who knows?

So much shifting sand. So much uncertainty. And yet...

We've hit bumpy patches before, but our sons were still dependents, living at home. The stress and anxiety nearly did me in.This time it's different.

We've always had this little thing we say to each other when we set off somewhere on our own: just the twosies of us. And here we are, facing challenges on every side, just the twosies of us. And because it is just the two of us, it's so much less stressful. Our sons have jobs and homes. They'll be okay. If we wind up sleeping on camp beds in someone's garage for a few weeks, it'll be okay. If we have to move to the EU, it'll be okay. We'll figure it out. As we used to say in South Africa 'alles sal regkom' (it will all work out).

So your friendly upsycho is being uncharacteristically UN-psycho about the whole thing.

For now.

Thinking about value

Wall art from reclaimed wood

As an upcycler/restorer, I make pieces out of things that other people were planning to throw away. Pallets that were to be consigned to the fire, have become wall art, or dog beds. Items of furniture that had been damaged by damp, have gained a new lease on life.

Before

After

I am also commissioned to restore things. Patio sets for two different clients, a candelabra for another, tables, counter tops... all manner of things. Even a picture. Fret not, it's not the art work I'm restoring, or we might have a repeat of this!

Failed restoration

What I have discovered is that there is no predicting what has value to people.

In the book version of the Harry Potter series, there is a very touching insight into Neville Longbottom that wasn't included in the movies. Having been tortured by Voldemort's bunch, his parents reside permanently in a mental hospital. Neville and his grandmother visit them there. Each time, as they leave, Neville's mother presses a shiny sweet wrapper into his hand, with the air of someone bestowing a gift of great value. Neville treasures those wrappers - not for what they are, but for what they represent.

Just because an antique dealer would turn his/her nose up at a reproduction table with a plywood top, is not to say that it doesn't have great sentimental value to someone who grew up seeing that table every time they went to visit Granny and Grampa. Just because it would be cheaper to chuck out a little patio set and buy a new one made of PVC, doesn't mean that it isn't worth restoring to the person who bought it with their very first pay cheque. Just because a picture is a print in a damaged frame, doesn't mean it isn't the most precious piece of art to someone for whom it brings back memories of a late, much loved relative.

It is up to me to see these things through the eyes of the owners. The people to whom these things are so valuable that they are prepared to pay me (or someone like me) to do everything I can to extend its life and to make it look pretty again. It is up to me to handle them like the treasures they are.

Working with other materials

For the most part, as you may have noticed, I work with wood (or facsimiles thereof like MDF, laminates and laminated chipboard). But I also work with other materials. I have a studio at home, where I carry out handcrafts that don't involve power tools: sewing, beading, decopodging...that kind of thing.

Tray table - before

In the typical manner of a creative person, I tend to start out with one goal in mind, and wind up in a slightly different place, as inspiration moulds the project organically. So I seldom work entirely within my comfort zone, and most projects stretch me at least a little. Oddly enough (or perhaps not), this is exactly the approach I employed when I used to design learning solutions in my previous life.

Then from time to time, I am given the opportunity to explore new territory.

I was recently commissioned to restore a metal patio set that had seen better days. A two-seater bench and a little tray table. It had great sentimental value to its owner. I knew that I could strip it and sand it back by hand, before painting it again. And I knew it would be a long, slow process.

Two seater - before

At the same time, I was also given a candelabra made of twisted iron rods. The cups for the candles had pretty much rusted away, and the client gave me carte blanche to let my imagination run riot. Once again, this would involve stripping and repainting.

First things first, though - those rusted candleholders had to come off. This sort of work gives me time to think, so it is during the purely manual parts of a project that inspiration tends to strike. It dawned on me - maybe I could have the rust sandblasted off instead.

I found a local sandblasting firm and approached them. For them it was a small project - they usually work on huge pieces, but they were keen on the idea and agreed to do the work for me. They sanded and primed all three pieces.

Screw-in eyes

In the workshop next door to the sandblasting firm, is a metalworker. He works on Rolls Royces and vintage lorries. But he was happy, too, to weld screw-in eyes onto the candelabra for me (he also made a new drip tray for our gas barbecue, but that's another story). I think the work felt like a holiday to him.

During conversations with the sandblasting man, we discovered that we could form a mutually beneficial relationship in respect of some of the stuff he throws away. I will save him the trouble of disposing of it, and it will provide me with the basis of some interesting pieces going forward.

Once that was done, I painted all three pieces in accordance with the clients' instructions, and reunited them with their happy owners.

Patio set - after

Candelabra turned lantern tree

The point I'm making is that it's worth having a go. It's worth talking to other local tradespeople and crafters. It's worth asking. People can always say no, but often I find people enjoy the opportunity to do something different. Especially if they get to be a little creative in the process.

So you've never tried x thing before. Give it a shot. You might surprise yourself. And you might make some interesting new acquaintances into the bargain.

My new workshop

My pallet riches

Your friendly upsycho is feeling rather ridiculously pleased with a couple of recent developments. First: I got a workshop. A place where I can keep my growing collection of power tools, and make as much noise and mess as necessary to produce my kreations. It also provides me with the space I need to store all my pallets, raw materials and half-finished projects without posing threat to life, limb and Mr Namasi's patience.

My workshop shares premises with a dog grooming parlour, and the owner of the business has kindly afforded me some space within the store to display some of my kreations. So, if you're a local person, bring your best friend in to Top Dogs Professional Grooming Service in Birchfield Road East (opposite the Co-op), Northampton, and take a look at some of my bits and pieces on display there. You can wait while your dog is groomed, or pop out for a bit of a grooming yourself - there's a barber shop two doors down, and a beauty salon across the road.

Table saw

Band saw

I'm also rather pleased to have acquired - for little more than a song - a table saw and a band saw from a lovely bloke who just wanted his garage space back. He delivered them, set them up, demonstrated them and then insisted on watching me use them, to make sure that I had absorbed enough from his demo to keep all my fingers.

The table saw in particular has been an absolute godsend, as I tackle the pallets and crates that have long awaited my attention.

Some examples of the sort of things I have been producing:

A headboard, made out of upcycled bed slats and painted to match an existing mural (also my handiwork).

Rich colours

A couple of small dog beds made out of an upcycled TV stand (with a few added bits).

Small dog beds for little best friends

A giant dog bed, made out of a pallet and some decking boards

Giant dog bed for a very large best friend

This is a very bed-centric selection of items, I notice. Perhaps this is because I'm feeling a little under the weather today. But I have made some non-bed items:

Funky shelf unit

Rack for dog-walking accessories

I have also worked in mediums other than wood, but more of that another day.

After a long silence...pleading for a little less dissing

I have been uncharacteristically quiet for some time, I know. I had my Mom to stay for six weeks, and we spent that time exploring garden centres, visiting coffee shops, going birding and doing the Daily Telegraph cryptic crossword puzzle every day. Things I just don't to do very often because I don't know anyone locally who shares my interest in any of these activities, and - apart from the DT crossword - doing them alone just makes me sad.

When she left - after a couple of false starts, because she flies staff rebate and has to go on standby - the Black Dog took full advantage of the void and moved in with me for a bit.

But I am on the mend.

Since we last spoke, my younger son has moved out of home into his very first flat. Now Mr Namasi and I are rattling around in this overlarge empty nest and using words like 'downsizing'.

Also...the Rio Olympics. Isn't it exciting? Team GB is currently second on the medal table. This little island is doing very well for itself. Usain Bolt is delivering the goods as expected. 'First ever' medals are being won for countries with small populations and large challenges (like Kosovo), and it gets, erm...very dusty in homes all over the world as we watch the victors hearing their anthems being played. And let's not forget the first ever Olympic gold medal to an African American swimmer, in a wonderful 'in your face' to a history of exclusion of black swimmers from local swimming pools until relatively recently. Of course, as a South African expat, your friendly upsycho is delighted at the world record breaking win in the 400m by Wayde van Niekerk.

But what's with all the dissing that's going on? Gabby Douglas's hair has made more of an impression than her gymnastics, for Pete's sake! What the heck is that about? One competitor refused to shake hands with his opponent after their judo bout (and got sent home for his trouble) because they have different religions. One victor failed to place her hand on her heart during the anthem - shock horror. Commentators are being ludicrously sexist: attributing women's wins to their male coaches; making comments like 'she swims like a man' (seriously?!); and calling Simone Biles the next Michael Phelps ("I'm not the next Michael Phelps, I'm the first Simone Biles."); completely overlooking the fact that the Williams sisters have won more than one gold medals than Andy Murray (an oversight Andy Murray was quick to point out).

I don't get it. I find the athletes breathtakingly admirable. Their discipline, dedication and skill are remarkable. I don't give a rat's ass what Gabby's 'edges' (whatever they may be) are doing. Or that x person's body isn't flattered by her (and it's usually a her) clothing. I reckon they're all pretty damned amazing, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Before (cat not included)

I try to counter the negativity with a positive attitude to my work. I'm also participating in a FB meme: posting five positive things about each day for five days.

After (sans cat)

Most of the projects I'm working on at the moment are commissioned pieces. I try to pour love (oh hush!) into what I do, and I hope that it shows. I hope that the clients feel that the investment in their chair/patio set/dog grooming parlour has been worth it, when they see them gain a new lease on life.

Sharing knowledge

Great tit and bullfinch

My Mom is currently visiting us from South Africa. She's a keen birder and what she calls a 'citizen scientist', participating in conservation efforts and so forth. One of the primary reasons for the timing of this visit is to see puffins with their fancy beaks on. I, on the other hand, am an embarrassment when it comes to matters ornithological. We'd be in the garden and my Mom would say, "Ooh! What's that?" referring to the call of some common garden bird, because her significant knowledge doesn't include the birds of the UK. Or she would point at a small speck on a fence post and ask "Is that a great tit or a blue tit?"

And I wouldn't know the answer.

Shameful.

So I went to a social forum called Streetlife - where local people can post questions or recommendations - and put out the call for a local birder to come and spend a couple of hours with my Mom, identifying the calls of the local birds.

Today, a lady called Barbara (also my Mom's name) came and spent two hours with us at the local Summer Leys Nature Reserve, identifying the calls of all the birds we heard, and providing the names of those we saw. We saw fewer than we heard because the full summer foliage hides them, and because they're busy with important things like raising chicks, not sitting out on branches in plain sight.

Blow me down if, after that, she didn't send us a list of all the birds we had seen and heard, as well as a list of others we hadn't seen but might yet see at this time of year.

And she did this all out of the goodness of her heart. Because she is a keen, committed birder, who wanted to help someone else who shares her passion.

I love that attitude!

Crown anniversaries

On 28 May this year, Mr Namasi and I celebrated our 'crown' anniversary: 28 years of marriage. More than half a lifetime.

Today, here I am, at 5:30 in the morning, headed for Heathrow airport with my husband (he's driving, obviously) to collect my Mom, who's coming for a visit.

Seventeen years ago, on this very day: 17 June, I was headed for Heathrow with two little boys to start a new life in the UK. I wasn't driving on that occasion, either. I left that to the pilot. I'm generous like that.

So much has changed since we arrived:

I got ink

My sons have grown up. The elder one works as a duty manager at a well known hotel chain. The younger one is on the management team of an independent sporting goods business.

I have changed. I called time on my previous career and became your friendly Upsycho. I got ink. Yup. Having said I never would.

Some things haven't changed. Mr Namasi is still my rock and safe place. My Mom is still my Mom. I don't get to see her very often these days, living as we do on two different continents, so I might be a bit quiet while she's here. Gotta make the most of having her here and all that.

Take care of yourselves in the meantime. There's a lot of ugliness about at the moment. Let's rebel against it. 

Amidst the mayhem

An upside of working with my hands is that it leaves my mind free to do a lot of thinking. The downside? Yup. My mind is free to do a lot of thinking.

Right now, it seems that there is violence and injustice everywhere. In no particular order:

Russian soccer/football (pick your preferred term) laying into English football fans. Violence and mayhem ensuing on the streets in France.

A man enters a night club where young people are having a good time and opens fire. One man was able to shoot approximately 100 people, killing roughly half that number (reports vary).

Brock Turner gets a ludicrously light sentence for raping a woman, and then he and his father have the temerity to talk about how his life has been ruined.

Oscar Pistorius is in court for the murder of his girlfriend. His psychologist tells the court that his client is too mentally ill to deal with prison.

A Dutch woman who reported that she had been raped in Qatar has been detained and sentenced for extramarital sex.

And in the middle of this vortex of horror and injustice, we took a body blow as a family (more of that another time).

Work in progress

So, while my hands are busy painting a mural, my mind is churning. Thoughts are swirling and finding no place to roost.

For some reason, I keep being reminded of Herman Charles Bosman - a highly skilled and very popular South African author. He mainly wrote short stories, but in Cold Stone Jug (which you can read online here, if the mood strikes you), he writes of his own time in prison for killing his brother in law. One of the things he remarked upon was that all the other prisoners were absolutely adamant that they were innocent. It seemed that Bosman was the only guilty man in the place. When Bosman acknowledged that he had, in fact, committed the crime for which he was incarcerated, a fellow inmate declared - with no hint of irony - that it was unfair on him to be locked up with someone who really had committed a crime. There should be one prison for us innocent ones, and another one for you guilty people, he said (or words to that effect). The relevant section of the story can be found in chapter 5 (language alert: as a product of its time, this book contains terms that are considered highly offensive today).

I'm pretty sure you've been as inundated as I have with all the horror stories. And there's so little we can do. I am only one person. You're only one person.

But hang on.

So is Brock Turner. So is Oscar Pistorius. So was Omar Mateen. So was Attila the Hun. So was Josef Stalin. So was Adolf Hitler. So was Mother Theresa. So was Nelson Mandela. So was Martin Luther King Jr.

So this is me, hitching up my big girl panties with renewed determination. I'm going to be kind to people. I'm going to spread the love. I can't change what is going on in the big wide world. But I can have an impact on the lives of the people with whom I come into contact. I can also say things like 'that's not right' when I see something that's not right. I can be like those two lads on bicycles who intervened when they saw Brock Turner having his way with an unconscious woman.

Normal service will be resumed, but I just wanted to share this with you. It seemed to big to just flit over it like it never happened and talk about my latest upcycling project.