Have you ever made something for someone else and then forgotten all about it because you never see it again? And then get a huge jolt when you do suddenly catch sight of it, many years later, and you think, “Oh hey, I made that – and what the hell is it doing here ????”
I made this blanket for Alex when she was about 8 or 9. She chose the colours and the order in which they were to be crocheted (she’s still bossy like that). For obvious reasons, we called it Rainbow Blanket. Her dad and I separated a short time later, and Alex is now 18 and spending a year in London. Brad* and I live fairly close to each other, and get on perfectly well.
Yesterday I went to his house to drop off his spare keys because he is going overseas himself next week and has a pal who will drop by every few days to make sure no-one has been a-burgling. We were standing talking in the passage and his bedroom door was open and I suddenly see rainbow blanket on his bed.
“Oh, rainbow blankie,” I say, “I’d forgotten about that.”
“Yes, it’s Alex’s.”
“I know it’s Alex’s, I made it for her. Don’t you have enough blankets?”
“I like this one. And besides, she’s not here. And I didn’t know you’d made it.”
“Well, who else is likely to have made it, that you know of?!”
“I hope this isn’t the kind of thing you’re making and hoping to sell to make a living? It takes too long to give you a decent return on your labour.”
“Gosh, Brad, I wish you’d told me sooner, I thought I could knock up at least one a day. I thought I would get to be a millionaire within three months making blankets by hand.”
Unasked-for ‘expert’ advice followed by sarcasm. Now that really takes me back.
* Not his real name.
To be continued…