When you're busy making other plans

Life. That's what happens when you're busy making other plans.

You probably know that, for the past few weeks, I've been helping a friend get a little shop up and running in Northampton.

Neither of us planned this. She had originally set up a completely different business in that space, for which she had employed a manager, and she had allowed me the use of a good sized workshop on the same premises.

I was going to use that space to make and upcycle furniture and larger items. I had a studio at home where I did smaller crafts like sewing, jewellery and so forth. Because my husband had a well-paid job in the city, I wasn't under pressure to make pots of money, and could allow things to grow organically.

Those were the plans.

Ha!

The business my friend had set up did not go well and the manager quit very quickly. I lost the use of the workshop space. My husband's company folded and he - together with his entire staff - was made redundant.

So we revised our plans.

We would sell our house and downsize. While my husband looked for a new job, we would rent and live off the proceeds from the sale of the house.

My friend would open a new shop in that space and I would work for her part time, using the rest of my time to continue working on my smaller craft items until such time as I was able to once again gain access to a workshop space. Once the shop was rolling along, she would recruit a full time staff member, and I would revert to being one of the shop's team of suppliers of goods and (in my case) services.

Then those plans were disrupted too.

The sale of our house fell at the final hurdle. My husband's job hunting has (to date) borne no fruit. My friend was diagnosed with something horrible.

So it was time for revised revised plans.

We introduced a phase 1 austerity budget (if things don't improve soon, phase 2 will have to be invoked) at home. The house went back on the market. My husband applied for jobseekers' allowance, although he continues the job search with dedication and commitment. I will work in the shop full time for the next while. My friend will work somewhere else on a part time basis and undergo a treatment programme.

In due course, we hope that the house will sell. We hope that my husband will find a job. We hope that the shop will do well enough to recruit a full time staff member. We hope that the treatment will work.

It has been a very weird time. And there is so much uncertainty surrounding us at the moment. The next few weeks could be interesting, to say the least.

Finding that silver lining

Just at the moment, Mr Namasi and I are facing some really significant life challenges. Each one daunting on its own, but when they gang up like this, it can be somewhat overwhelming. Just to prove that I'm not exaggerating, our list of challenges includes (but is not restricted to):

• Mr Namasi has been unemployed since December when the company he worked for folded, and I don't earn nearly enough to make ends even wave at each other
• When we at last found a buyer for our house, the sale fell through at the very last hurdle - we've already gotten rid of much of our furniture and started packing
• Our presence in a post-Brexit UK is not guaranteed.

I'm sure you get the picture. Things are pretty bleak. And yet, and yet...

We've introduced what we call 'austerity budget' and have cut corners all over the place. We've had to do this before and, as before, somehow it's fun. Planning meals together, choosing cheaper everything, and buoying each other up with the make-do mentality and the fact that we're in it together. Something as mundane as a chocolate bar becomes a real treat, and we appreciate the little things so much more.

I recently came home from work to find that a friend-and-colleague had popped a chocolate bar into my handbag. I gave it to Mr Namasi, because it happened to be a Boost and he needed one.

A friend treated me to a Sunday roast dinner out, which was such a blessing.

After a protracted battle with HMRC, who kept sending me letters to say I owed them money, in spite of the fact that they had already confirmed more than once that this was not the case, I finally spoke to someone who was able to stop the regular letters. This person was also able to tell me, that not only did I not owe them any money, but they owed me £100. Mr Namasi and I had foregone birthday presents due to budget cuts, and I decided that we would split the money and each buy ourselves a £50 gift.

As part of the ongoing downsizing project, I've been advertising some of our belongings online, and a few of them have sold. It's just £10 here and £15 there. But those little windfalls feel significant when they're dropping into an empty cache in a way they wouldn't have done under normal circumstances.

And then, of course, things go wrong - things you just don't have the budget for. The glass turntable plate thingy in the microwave broke clean in two. Normally, we would just buy a new one. On the austerity budget, we repaired it with superglue. So far, so good. We feel good about our resourcefulness.

Our tumble drier broke down - the spindle holding the drum in place sheared clean through. We can't get by without one so, with sighs of resignation, we called a man in to repair it. He discovered that our tumble drier is a recalled model. He waived his call out fee (incredibly generous of him) and arranged for us to have a brand new tumble drier for less than his call out fee would have been.

The friend who supplied the Boost bar, has also supplied other little blessings: a can of coconut milk here, an 8-pack of my preferred soft drink there. Things that I would normally buy without even looking at the price tag, and which have now been cut on the austerity budget.

Another friend gave us tickets to a live comedy act. A night out that we wouldn't even contemplate at the moment.

We find ourselves more determined to find the upside to every situation, to look for a reason to be glad.

Something that happened not to us, but to a friend, is an illustration of how the most unlikely things can turn out to be blessings in disguise. She found a lump in her breast and went to see the doctor, as you do. The doctor was pretty sure it was nothing nefarious, but sent her for a mammogram anyway. The mammogram confirmed his suspicion that the lump was of no concern. However, they found early stage cancer in the other breast. Apparently, it is pretty much undetectable at this stage other than on a scan. This makes for an excellent prognosis. Hooray for the lump.

So now our house is back on the market. There is no furniture in either of our sons' ex bedrooms. One of them is doing duty as a storage space for the stuff I'm looking to sell. Our lovely double length garage used to house gym equipment and a lovely XBox gaming space - it's now full of boxes, some packed and some empty. There are no pictures on the walls. There are half-packed boxes in most of the rooms. My lovely studio in the loft, with the best views in the house, is full of stuff from the attic-space, which is in the process of being sorted. It is nowhere near the lovely home it was when our previous buyers saw it. The sight that meets prospective buyers right now is far less inviting. But we've already had one offer, and it was a smidgen higher than the offer that fell through. And viewers are still coming. Maybe the failed sale and the resultant flirtation with financial ruin will result in a better price than before?

Mr Namasi, my wonderfully pragmatic, phlegmatic husband has made an occupation out of job hunting. This is the first time he has been unemployed for more than a couple of weeks, and the job market is not kind to the over 50s.

He has a daily routine of checking his emails, following up on new job alerts, making phone calls, reaching out to his network. He has been pouring himself into the task with the same sort of dedication and commitment that characterises the way he has approached every aspect of his life: previous jobs, marriage, parenting, sport, volunteering commitments... His resilience inspires me.

As we speak, he is en route to an interview in London. If the potential employers had been a fly on the wall as he prepared for this interview and spoke about how life would be if he got this job (at a lower salary than his previous role), they would have hired him on the spot. I just hope they are able to see his sterling qualities in the short space of time they get to spend with him. And maybe he will land a role that fits him like a glove, holds his interest and allows him to grow and develop.

Maybe this time of unemployment will also prove to be a blessing in disguise? I have to confess that at the moment, if this is a blessing in disguise, the disguise is a pretty impenetrable one, but I'm standing hopefully by for the Great Unmasking.

On deciding what sort of girl I want to be

In 1978, I was refused a bank loan to study mechanical engineering at university. Physics had been both my strongest and my favourite subject at school, particularly the mechanics curriculum. I have always had a knack for understanding how mechanical things work, and wanted to make a career out of designing machinery.

When that door was closed firmly in my face, I went to drama school instead (as you do) and passed my studies there with distinctions.

What sort of girl was I? Was I the sort of girl who did 'tomboyish' things, or was I a dramatic sort of a girl?

I don't think I ever really even thought about it, until a few years later. 1983, in fact.

I was getting ready to drive the 600km from East London (the one in South Africa, not England) to Durban for a holiday.

One of the things I needed to do before I left was service my car. So I pulled it up onto the lawn where the ground was level, and changed the plugs, points and condenser.

That done, I placed a pan under the sump and undid the sump nut (with some difficulty in the confined space). I wasn't sure that the pan was big enough to hold all the oil, so I brought my knitting out onto the front porch to keep my hands busy while I kept half an eye on the draining process. I was trying to finish a pullover to take with me for the trip.

A passing car pulled up onto the kerb and a man stepped out. He told me he had driven past a short while earlier and seen my backside sticking out from under the bonnet. Now he was driving past again, only to see me knitting. He couldn't tell what sort of girl I was, he told me, in an accusatory tone of voice. Apparently he would have preferred me to be either the butch sort of girl who wielded a plug spanner and understood the basics of the internal combustion engine, OR the sort of girl who made her own clothes. His tone of voice implied that he had the right to his expectations and that I somehow owed it to him to be one thing or the other.

Fast forward 34 years and I still haven't decided what sort of girl I am to the satisfaction of people like that random passerby in 1983. While I no longer service my own car (it's the electronics - I like electronic devices and know how to 'drive' several different types, but I don't understand their inner workings the way I do mechanical devices with moving parts), I am equally happy wielding a power drill and a crochet hook, operating a table saw and a sewing machine, making a lacy shawl and a hall stand. I watch rugby and chick flicks. Shoe stores and hardware stores are equally appealing to me. I coo over kittens and drool over drill presses. I feed the yarn and fabric stash and can't resist (yet) a(nother) wooden pallet to add to my collection.

So what kind of girl am I? I'm the sort of girl who doesn't feel the need to be one sort of girl. I'm the sort of girl who has a wide range of interests and not enough hours in the day to pursue them all. I'm the sort of girl who thinks that if you want me to make up my mind what sort of girl I am, you can go and...do something unpleasant to yourself.

That's the sort of girl I am.

Link love digest: week 9

Looking back over last week's daily link love shares.

Julia Horberry
Julia's Driftwood Furniture and Lighting

Julia's Driftwood Furniture and Lighting

My passion for Driftwood was born when I discovered and fell in love with Cornwall.

Walking along the beautiful beaches provide me with, what I can only describe as ‘Treasure’. The moment that I pick up that piece of wood I know exactly what it’s going to be, the climb back up the cliff with a heavy backpack full of wood is all part of the fun.

Having an outlet for my creations is more of a relief than a job; I have so many ideas constantly filling my head.

I am self taught with only a background in creative den building, Born in East Yorkshire and moving (escaping) to Cornwall in 1994. Yorkshire made me practical and Cornwall give me the freedom to create; the two together make a good combination.

I make a wide range of furniture, lighting and home accessories from Driftwood and other recycled materials.

I've been doing this for 22 years (half my life), but I turned it into a business back in 2008.
All my driftwood is hand picked in Cornwall and sometimes Devon if I am brave enough to cross the Border :-).

Lesley Jane Nixon

Maid on the Moors

Maid on the Moors

After spending 12 years as a hot glass artist, making beads for artisan jewellery designers, I have been somewhat seduced by the beauty of semi precious gemstones.

I used to collect pretty stones as a child ... still do ... now I make pretty things with them too.

All of my jewellery is hand created using copper and sterling silver wire and beautiful gemstones.

Kate Cook
Vandalised with Love

At Vandalised with Love, we love to bring you something different. Creative Acts of Vandalisation, be it from elegant flower hair clips or sophisticated fascinators and crowns, to crazy fun hatinators, accessories and unique and interesting pieces for your home.
We can also custom re-design ('vandalise with love') your own shoes -  you buy the shoes or send us your old, scuffed shoes and send them to us.

Vandalised with Love

 Perfect to revamp your old but comfortable shoes and make them match your outfit.  Prices start from £35 when you send us your shoes. We will 'vandalise' them with love and return free of charge. All of our shoes are handcrafted to order, ensuring each piece is unique.

We also make shoe clips, clutch bags and fascinators to enhance and match your shoes. Take a look through our pages for inspiration and feel free to contact us with any questions.

We cover shoes using the French art known as decoupage. Thin layers of beautiful specialist paper, sealed and varnished with high quality materials; surfaces are therefore not entirely smooth but have a lovely unique finish.

All our treasures are one-offs and 'vandalised with love' just for you.

Christianna
Mes Amies Soaps

Mes Amies

I discovered my passion for making my own vegan soaps after I tried a delightful handmade bar of soap from a Wiccan store in New Orleans, Louisiana.

I am committed to using all natural, high quality ingredients, sourced from around the globe. Charity is also a very important aspect of my business vision: one bar of soap is donated to a local homeless shelter for every 10 bars purchased.

I'm happy to be sharing my passion for soapmaking with you and I hope you love my soaps just as much as I do! 

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Turquoise kilim

Turquoise Kilim

I have been unable to fins out anything about this person, other than that he lives in Turkey. I can't even find a name. But his beautiful kilims deserve a mention, just the same.








Emma Louise Corry
Emma Corry Designs

Emma Corry Designs

Emma Louise Corry is a textile designer and maker, who lives in Marcham, Oxfordshire, with her husband, daughter, two cats and a hamster. Emma creates beautiful pieces using carefully chosen new and upcycled fabric with attention to detail, colour and design.

Emma remembers the first time she borrowed her mother’s Elna sewing machine, she was about 8 years old. Emma spent a long time teaching herself to thread it and sew with it. Recently Emma bought the same model, as it evokes so many lovely memories. Emma has always been creative – her mother tells stories of handmade paper being made in her blender and printing wrapping paper on the kitchen floor – but Emma's love of textiles really began when she started her two-year diploma at Worthing College for Art and Design in 1984.

After Emma's diploma, she completed a three-year degree course in Fashion and Textiles at Leicester Polytechnic, followed by a two-year MA in Woven Textile Design at the Royal College of Art in London. Graduating in 1991 – Emma was only 20 years old! After leaving the RCA, Emma worked as a freelance textile designer for a short period, then for Monsoon, followed by a job designing window displays for a family run business. Emma started her own greetings card company, specialising in handmade cards. Now that has grown into Emma Corry Designs, which Emma runs from her studio at home, whilst also organising ‘Stitch and Sew’ clubs for primary school children and giving textile support to ‘A’ level students.

Little make

Becky Berry
Little Make

I live and work in our little home in Salisbury, England with my family.

My inspiration at the moment is coming from nature and the animal kingdom. My biggest inspiration is bears and not forgetting my two little girls who help spark my imagination.