Installing Windows 7 32 bit went easily. No problems at all. It’s working as is everything I had on my pc already. I didn’t go to 64bit because I already know that my Design A Knit software won’t work under that. The one very noticeable difference is that the colours on my screen are much more real. My photographed stuff looks more as they do in real life.
You should have heard me getting up this morning. I sounded like a foul mouthed centenarian. I can't believe how much pain I have today. I didn’t go swimming, but knew last night I would not as I felt very tried upon retiring. It is freezing fog outside. I went to the supermarket last night and I actually walked around it to get my stuff instead of using a chair and only getting a few bits or having a member of staff help me if I needed more than that. I felt quite pleased with myself. I was getting weak by the time i had completed but at least I managed it. I am shocked at how sore I am today though and I think that and the swimming and the dog poo pick up might be the reason. Or it’s just the beginning of a flare. Never can tell and I don’t know why I look for reasons really. I know my body is f*cked and nothing I do or don’t do will make that much difference!
I am delighted with how well my yarns have been selling. I can’t tell you how much I am enjoying doing this.
Many years ago, I read that Richard Adams who wrote Watership Down, did not discover his talent for writing until he had undergone psychotherapy. Years ago, about 28, I knew a lovely young woman (so was I, young that is) named Jane who always went on about how arty I was. I did not understand why. I knew nothing about art, was into clothing, did not draw, paint or anything remotely arty.
Now I am an artist. A fibre artist. I know that. And like Mr Adams, this came out of me once I had got my shit dealt with. I wonder how she knew it all those years ago?
Although I try not to, I wonder what I might have become had my interest in art and craft not been quashed when I was young and I had not been bullied by an immature father who could only see one way for a male to be. Now in my 50’s, I am an artist and I love it and I am more a man than he ever was.