Am I a wierdo?
There are several things in my life, that I have learnt by experience not to talk about in general conversation. Things which, although important to me, other people find well, strange… I started thinking about this because of a comment from Lizzie on the subject of pyjamas this week. She, like me, loves her flannel PJs above all else and was explaining this in detail to someone at work, when she suddenly realized that it made her appear to be, well, rather odd. Oh I heard you Lizzie – I have so been there!
It’s a shame really because they are some of the things that I love the most and really deep down which make me who I am. But there you go, that’s just how it is. If only for my childrens’ sake, I don’t really want to be known as the village wierdo.
I bet I’ve whet your appetites now and you’re all waiting for something juicy to follow. Sorry, I’m going to disappoint you – you are the people who know all my secrets. In fact I think that maybe this need for secrecy with the locals was one of the things that pushed me towards blogging. I needed to find some kindred spirits, some friends who might even be interested in the same strange things. And you know, I have – and for that I thank you all.
I seldom tell people that I’m a quilter. There are lots of quilters here in Switzerland, but, and I hope I’m not treading on any toes here when I say this, they tend to be Swiss ladies of a certain age. They are most certainly not Swiss ladies of my age. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever taken any quilting course anywhere where I wasn’t a good few decades younger than everyone else. Which means that my non-quilting friends and acquaintances find what I do to be, frankly, odd. I did tell someone yesterday that I had been piecing stars to reduce stress. BIG MISTAKE. I won’t do that again….
Quilting is a piece of cake though compared to sock knitting:
‘you do what?’
‘I knit socks, you know fancy, thick, wooly, cosy winter socks. I like them better than anything I can buy’.
‘Why? Why would you knit socks when you can buy nice socks?
How long does it take to knit a pair of socks?’
‘ YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING’.
At that point I could as well have ‘very strange person’ tattooed on my forehead. The person who I am talking to starts to edge away from me, having already lost her eyebrows somewhere up onto the top of her head. Nobody knits socks. Well, that’s not true exactly, I do and many of you do and my friend Suzanne in Aptos, California does, but nobody else does. Apart from the old ladies in the Old People’s Home who do it because there is nothing on earth else they can do anymore.
When I was visiting Suzanne and found her knitting basket with a pair of half-knitted socks in it I was almost delirious. I would not have raised the subject myself, you understand. I’ve been down that road, I’ve had those fingers burned. And I like Suzanne and I really don’t want her to think I’m a strange person. I had always known she was a kindred spirit and this was truly the ultimate proof. We even went on sock wool hunting forays and exchanged patterns. Heaven, I can tell you!
I’m also very wary about telling my friends that I have a blog. Eric and Lindsay know – Eric set the blog up for me – and have never been anything other than supportive – and I don’t think they laugh into their hankies behind my back. In fact I’m always rather thrilled when Eric emails me to say he likes a particular post. How cool is that? I blog about quilting and knitting and a MAN reads my blog. Meg reads too in Germany – but she knows what I’m like, warts and all, so to speak.Kendall knows, but she’s a writer and my favourite running buddy – and knows all my secrets disclosed piecemeal during long runs in the woods. Otherwise, no. I did mention it to an acquaintance in the early days who asked me what I had been up to. Never again. I was subjected to a tirade along the lines of ‘how could you possibly imagine that anyone would want to read what you have to write about. It’s totally self-indulgent’. As I slunk back to go under my rock I vowed, never again to open up like that.
It’s sad really. But maybe I am just a little strange.
But then again, at least I am a happy strange person.
Helen
September 3rd, 2010 at 3:13 pm
Helen, no INDEED you are not a weirdo. Do what you enjoy!!! Who cares what other people think. But you are right, when I tell my Swiss friends that I quilt they do look at me a little strangely and I am almost (but hopefully not quite) at that “certain age”. I’ve just been named Publicity Coordinator for my local Guild and will be trying to garner up some interest among the “younger” crowd although the fact that we meet during the day may be an impediment.
September 4th, 2010 at 1:14 am
“But then again, at least I am a happy strange person.”
And that, my dear, is all that matters.
September 4th, 2010 at 1:21 am
I think you’re an inspiration! Keep it up!
September 4th, 2010 at 2:03 am
Really, are you serious? Only “elderly” women in Switzerland quilt? That is strange and I’m wondering why that is. You see, I’m not familiar with the Swiss quilting scene but I look at the web site of PatCHquilt from time to time and I’m always intrigues how modern the quilts are the Swiss make, so I assumed the artists are all young(ish). I, on the other hand, recently joined a new group and although I’m not over the hill yet (I think) I really felt old as most of the others were in their thirties and had small children. So no, you are not a weirdo, you are a pioneer, paving the way for a new generation of quilter ;). Have a great weekend. Vreni x
September 4th, 2010 at 6:34 pm
Helen, I love flannel PJs , also love to knit socks. I problably have enough knitted to last a few years but keep knitting more that’s not crazy is it? You are not alone.
I meant to send a relpy a few weeks ago but never did. I too love the cold rugged beauty of NE England. I was born and grew up in Stockton-on-Tees, and went to St Hild’s college in Durham so your post about about your trip was close to my heart.
Ruth
September 6th, 2010 at 6:50 am
Helen you are not a weirdo. However the Swiss Germans sometimes do have a way of making you feel like that. They can be a little retentive at times. I say this with the affection and experience of of having made my home in the Canton of Zug for 10 years, it was also the place where my children were raised in an idyllic setting and in the best academic environment and schools one could only hope for. I have a few ‘Am I weird?’ stories too. I remember being reprimanded for singing the alphabet with my toddler, teaching him how to draw letters in the sand and playing math games with him as this was not my job but the teacher’s (which of course in the German area of CH means waiting until your child is 6 years old. Was I weird for understanding the importance of early childhood education? Should I have told my 3 yr old when he wanted to learn numbers and adding like his older 6 yr old brother to wait?
Imagine a warm Autumn Day, a park by a lake, families and children picnicking on the lawn and playing in the playground politely waiting for turns on swings and slides. Picture also hills and mounds of gorgeous coloured leaves under trees and almost everywhere there is grass. What does a group of little ones do, aged 3 to 6, when met with such a sight but to joyfully run through those lovely leaves and shriek with delight while throwing colour into the sky and having them delicately rain down and caress them. What do the mothers of those kids do but happily snap photos and join in on the fun. It didn’t take us long to realize the little crowd watching.
There was no wild abandon, no disturbance of the sacred Sunday peace, just a little rustling of leaves and children’s giggles of delight. Yet these were neatly piled leaves and we were publicly making a little show of ourselves, albeit fun with little ones. So we quickly gathered the few leaves that made their way to the walking path and raked them back to the grass pile and left. When I turned around, I noticed a couple of children asking their dad something and pointing to the leaves. He looked left and right as if to check out if anyone was watching, and then nodded his approval to them. As those children started to pick up the leaves and throw them in the air, he stood by and made sure none fell onto the path or to far from the neat little pile.
Now I ask you, Helen, who is the weirdo? (I have great photos of that day, by the way.)
Keep doing what your doing and know it is appreciated and not weird in the least.
I have now been living in the Swiss Romand region for the last five years, and I must say that between my friends in Zug/Zurich/ Luzern and those here by Lac Leman, there are a great many quilters and a rather ‘youngish’ lot at that. Now, as far as knitting your own socks, well that I find unique (as much as I found unique sewing boxers for her boys as my friend did), but I would love to learn! (Knitting socks, I mean…not the underwear ;-D)
In fact, I am thinking of learning how to knit my new winter project, ( I was inspired when doing the research for my last blog post on ‘guerrilla knitting’), but I think I should start with a basic scarf and leave the socks to later. Might I persuade you to set up a tutorial or two on your blog for those of us wanting some starter lessons?
When you come to think of it, flannel PJs, cozy socks and a beautiful hand made quilt to wrap yourself in while reading a book on a winter evening are just the right things needed for a Swiss winter.
September 6th, 2010 at 7:05 am
Hello Helen,
Oops! I apologize for the length of my previous comment. I think that might be considered a little weird in the blogging world; I’m a newcomer so I’m still learning. I am delighted to find another expat in the blogosphere who has made the land of moo-moos and alpine beauty their home for even longer than I have. Blogging was not really not common when I first arrived here as what they now call a ‘trailing spouse’, and I find the connections made in cyberspace can be so helpful and interesting.
Tschüss