So, the Hoxton Handmade website seems to have left this mortal coil, finally, possibly as an act of protest against months of neglect on my part. I can’t actually get into the blog anymore, I’ve no idea why, but I suspect it’s down to quantum*.
The URL is a dead end, my login doesn’t work, and it’s probably something to do with the server that hosts it all, but my brother runs that, and he has a 6 week old baby and probably can’t remember when he last slept so, you know, priorities.
Rather than try and fix it, I’m taking it as a sign from the universe that it may be time to move on. Because even if I were to resuscitate the blog, I’m left asking myself, to what end? For more than a year now it’s been gathering dust. It was weeks before I even realised it was broken. I keep planning to at least record a farewell episode, some kind of magnum opus, but I never do. What’s the point of getting it up and running again only for me to continue to resent the way it makes me feel useless and guilt-ridden and unproductive. And then I get annoyed with myself for feeling that way because really there are more important things for me to worry about these days.
It’s almost as if the Sheep read my mind and knew of my turmoil and guilt and procrastination and made the decision for me. I like to think he has gambolled his way into fresh pastures, no doubt in a slightly meandering and gin fuelled daze, and that he is already in the midst of new adventures. I shall miss him.
It’s not so much parenthood that has changed me, as the inordinate logistics that parenthood demands. I am out of the house for 11 hours a day, five days a week, and parents all over the world know the Herculean effort required just to sort out things like laundry and supermarket shopping when you’re not at home that much, and wrestling a small gibbon who has a perilous lack of personal safety when you are. And come the weekend I want to play with my girl, my delight, my little bug (I’m 10 months in, and I admit I may not be quite over the holy-moly-my-daughter-is-so-cute, would you LOOK AT THAT FACE phase. I’d apologise, but frankly she’s so cute I just don’t care). It is entirely possible to have children and work and maintain a regular podcast, but personally I’m just not willing or able to make the compromises to the first two that would be necessary for me to do the third. Something has to give.
As well as not having much time for blogging or podcasting, I haven’t had much time for knitting. One of the few things I’ve made in the last year was a blanket for my new nephew, and I failed to take a photo of it. But I haven’t given up my love of wool entirely; I have grand plans this winter to make an owlet for the bug and something warm and cabled for Mr Hoxton.
But the fact remains that life has enough pressures and deadlines and timetables at the moment and I don’t want blogging to become another chore on the to-do list. I’m going to try and write a little more, perhaps on this exciting new platform that I feel I’m either too old or not tech enough to properly understand, but it’s going to have to be on a relaxed scale, and no doubt I’ll still be hanging around elsewhere online.
But the wool will never be far from my heart and I will always be grateful for the people it brought into my life. To everyone who downloaded an episode of my ramblings, I thank you all for listening, and for the privilege of talking to you. And I raise a cold G&T in your direction with my grandfather’s favourite toast; astonishing good luck.
*RIP Terry Pratchett