A Year In Recovery

What do you do when the number of people in your household not dealing with a debilitating chronic illness drops to zero? If you’re anything like me, the answer is Read A Book. The book in this case was The Fatigue Book by Lydia Rolley, who not only worked for many years in an NHS fatigue clinic, but had previously recovered from CFS herself, i.e. She Knows What She’s Talking About.

We decided to launch a Recovery Plan based on her advice. The key principles are simple – flatten out the rollercoaster of energy highs and lows by setting a baseline of activity which you can do on good days and bad without wearing yourself out. Not unlike Goldilocks, you’re looking for not too much and not too little. As your energy improves, you can gradually increase the baseline.

A sheet of paper on a wooden surface has uncial lettering in brown ink which reads "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us. G."

But first we had to have our house mostly replumbed and rewired. (Long story; take my advice and be highly suspicious of any hissing noises in or near your walls.) In mid-May last year, we were finally able to begin resting. Which was absolute bliss, as long as you didn’t look too closely – or in some cases at all – at all the things which had to be set aside until baselines improved. (Set aside in the metaphorical sense. One cannot, alas, actually set aside an unvacuumed carpet, nor a thickly dustcoated windowsill.)

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The Mystery of the Red Rhombus

They don’t make things like they used to! Buy a pack of cotton dishcloths, and hardly a decade has passed before they’re wearing into holes you could put a teacup through. This time around, I decided to make some myself. At least this way if they wear out in ten years, no one can be blamed for shoddy workmanship but me.

And after all, how hard can it be to crochet something square?

A cream-coloured crochet dishcloth, in the form of a misshapen square.
Sort of a square…
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What I Did On My Non-Holiday

If one were to judge from social media and memes alone, there are only two experiences of lockdown: Exhausted Parenthood and Exorbitant Boredom. (Clearly, this overlooks other experiences such as Having to Work Despite Feeling Unsafe, and Fearing Your Family Will Starve to a Covid-Free Death, possibly because the people having those experiences don’t have a lot of time for memeing.)

Personally, my experience of lockdown was busier and more stressed than my ordinary life, due in small part to the technolofication of all communications, and in large part to publishing a book in the middle of NZ’s Level 3. Publishing in a Time of Pandemic: not recommended.

But in amongst the stress and confusion and delays, I did manage to fit in a bit of sanity-maintaining handwork. I did a moderate amount of tatting, including a very simple lace collar, and two bookmarks.

simple tatted lace collar
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