The True Cost of a Pattern - revisited

You may remember that almost 4 years ago, in September 2014, I wrote a lengthy blog post about what's actually involved in writing and publishing a knitting pattern, and why we charge what we do.

Since then a *lot* has changed - my health has deteriorated which in turn has meant more outsourcing. All costs have gone up, including the cost of living. My pattern prices have gone up, too, although right now they're not truly reflecting my increased costs and that's something I need to think long and hard about over the coming months.

I've been wanting to revisit this subject for some time but what with one thing and another (shoulders, I'm looking at you) I haven't. Until now.

Where possible I will reflect on what those costs and processes were, to highlight how much things have changed.

The image shows the crown of my Waffle Slouch pattern. It features the post title “Revisited - The True Cost of a Knitting Pattern”

The production costs - actual expenses

This is the easiest thing to quantify. Each of my patterns goes through test knitting AND tech editing, and all of these people are compensated for their time. Each pattern generally gets seen by two tech editors, and the tech editing time for each is normally around an hour (simpler patterns less; more complex patterns more). Tech editing costs per pattern are roughly £30. Books and their patterns go through 3 levels of tech editing with both editors and a typical tech editing bill for a 10 pattern book comes to around £800 - £900, bringing the average cost of tech editing per pattern closer to £50.

Each pattern is also test knitted, and generally by two test knitters, who each knit a different size to ensure that that it all works out correctly. Many designers use editors OR testers but I use both. Not only does it reduce the chances of errors to virtually zero, and ensure that my editors get a very clean pattern (patterns are test first, then edited) but it also helps me understand how the pattern will behave when other yarns are used, and get feedback on the knitting experience.

Testers are paid a compensation that is based on yardage used, in addition to a flat fee to cover yarn costs, admin time etc. Obviously that means that costs can vary from pattern to pattern, but the average test knitting cost is £35.

Then there is the photography. I take all of my own photos, which helps keep the cost down considerably. I also pay my models, because it's their time I'm taking and they also need to earn. I do try and photograph as many Hats as possible in one shoot, and the shoots are only a couple of hours each. Yet I will photograph each Hat more than once, which adds another level to the costs, but on average that's another £20 added to the production costs (if I paid a photographer it would be considerably more!) 

Next we have yarn costs. I do get sponsorship from yarn companies (i.e. free yarn for specific patterns) but quite often I will also buy the yarn I think will work best for the pattern; I'm happy to do this for a few reasons and don't expect my yarn to always be free. I buy roughly 60% of the yarn I use; sometimes I'll need more than the 100g (swatching, 2nd sample etc) and based on that the yarn cost per pattern works out to roughly £10

And then there's advertising. This covers things like Ravelry ads or the cost of sending out a newsletter to promote the pattern. This averages out to about £15. I'm really frugal on this front - many designers will spend considerably more! That said, there are other advertising costs which are indirect and don't fit into this first budget.

So... initial direct production costs come to £130. That's how much I lay out directly for each pattern.

At full price of £3, and taking into account PayPal fees, I'd have to sell 49 copies to cover that. At a discounted price (i.e. coupon through the newsletter or wholesale rate) I'd have to sell 87 copies to cover these costs.

These costs have changed - my tech editor rates have gone up, and with recent collections I've used up to 3 tech editors - and that brings the average up to around £50. I'm using less and less sponsored yarn (in turn this gives me more control over the work I do) that's another cost that's gone up - let's say that's around £20. 

These costs per pattern have now risen to £140, which isn't a huge leap on what it was before. What has changed is the extra work I've outsourced, which I cover in the next section.

At full price of £3.75/$6, and taking into account PayPal fees, I'd have to sell 40 copies to cover that. At a discounted price (i.e. coupon through the newsletter or wholesale rate) I'd have to sell 67 copies to cover these costs.

The other production costs

The difficulty in gauging time and costs in this area hasn't changed. What has changed is that I now outsource so much more of this, as it's pretty heavy PC work. I still do my single pattern layouts but the eBooks are outsourced. I've outsourced the copy writing and the uploading & managing POS (with exception of new listings I can get to). Many of these now belong in the actual costs as I'm not doing them, but I've kept them here for comparison.

One of the hardest things for any designer to put a figure on is how much time is spent on producing the pattern. There's the knitting time and the re-knitting time and the pattern writing time and layout time and photography time (because yes, I do all of it) And there's also the thinking time and emailing time (discussions back and forth with testers and editors etc) and to be quite honest, if I sat and counted all of the hours spent it would work out to a thoroughly depressing hourly rate, so I refuse to do it for each pattern.

For the sake of finding some figures, I've looked at a quick pattern (chunky yarn, straightforward design) and a so very not quick pattern (fine yarn; frogged countless times) to calculate some sort of average. The numbers below are based on this average. And I've worked backwards, as it made things easier to work out! 

1)  Uploading & managing POS - 2 hours

2)  Layout time - 2 hours

3)  Photo editing - 1.5 hours

4)  Photography - 1 hour

5)  Editing time - 1.5 hours

6)  Pattern writing and charting - 2.5 hours

7)  Knitting time - 24 hours

That amounts to an average of 34.5 hours of my time spent on each pattern in the production stage. These figures will vary wildly for each designer, and they would change constantly too, as experience is gained and new avenues are explored. As I say it is the hardest thing to quantify and I've more than likely under estimated rather than over. Thinking time in particular is impossible to guesstimate.

So, based on an average of 34.5 hours per pattern, and if we look at minimum wage as a base point, each pattern would have to pay me £224.25. In terms of sales, and remembering that PayPal take their cut, I would have to sell 84 patterns at full price, or 150 at a discounted price.

That brings the number of copies that needs to be sold to 133 at full price, or 237 at a discounted price. 

I've outsourced the photography to Tom, and he deserves to be paid for the work he does for me, so that's an additional cost. He also does a fair bit of editing, too, as that's a real killer on my shoulders - photography plus editing is looking at £100, easy, per pattern, and is probably closer to £130. He also produces any technique videos needed, so that's an extra £50 on top. Copy writing and uploading adds an extra £25 per pattern. Layouts for books are in the region of £1000, so that's a huge amount that needs to be covered (it's very much worth it, as Zab is bloody brilliant and works magic, and it saves me an awful lot of time and pain). My pattern writing and knitting times haven't changed that much but I'd like to earn a little bit more than minimum wage on this!

Considering averages here, these costs add a huge £255 per pattern in direct outlay costs, and an extra £300 in paying me. That brings the total costs per pattern to £695. That means I'd have to sell 480 at regular rate or 538 at the discounted rate.

These figures have been skewed by the costs of the book layouts being averaged across my single patterns, but that's how this all works - the patterns have to pay for *everything*, not just their own costs. These are average figures, don't forget - many will cost less to produce, some will cost more.

The non production costs

This is the part that frequently gets over looked. And it's probably one of the most expensive areas.

Let's think about the photography for a moment... I keep production expenses down by doing the photography myself. Yet it's taken years of practice to get my photos up to a half decent standard. And each time I get the camera out to practice, I've paid my models. And the camera itself has a cost too - the different lenses, the filters, and even odd bits like the camera bag and cables. I use open source software for just about everything so my software costs are low too (i.e. practiaclly zero) but a designer who edits their own shots and doesn't use open source still has to buy the software to be able to do that.

We're looking at thousands on this front. The camera alone has cost over £1,500 without adding in any contact hours. And you don't just buy once and use forever; tech breaks. It needs repair or replacement. Tech gets out-dated. It's a never ending cost.

Then there's the computer. My laptop is now 3 years old, and it cost a small fortune at the time to buy (thankfully it was on sale, else it would have left an even bigger dent) but I got what I paid for, and have a powerful and reliable machine. I keep a laptop as my main computer because I travel so much - a desktop would be totally impractical! 

Adding to the laptop is the cost of back up hard-drives, thumb drives, cables, the printer and a whole bunch of other tech. Tech is expensive, if you want to buy good stuff that lasts. I buy most things on sale or secondhand, yet I've still spent thousands and thousands.

Then there's my knitting skill. I've been knitting since I was 3 - how far can you reasonably claim for hours spent developing skills? Training courses are an obvious and quantifiable cost, but practice and thinking time isn't. Where do you draw the line?

Other costs are easier to see, the non-production expenses. Such as building a website and paying the monthly host fees (£15 per month) and annual domain renewals and email renewals etc (£60 per year). There are Ravelry fees for selling patterns, which are based on volume. There's the cost of the internet and phone line (roughly £30 per month).

Whilst I do a lot of the production myself, I do outsource some of it. Such as the illustrations - my illustrator is great and charges a very reasonable rate per illustration, and the resulting tutorials add a lot of value to the books and patterns - they make the project easier for you, the knitter.

You have the cost of marketing and promotion - exhibiting and travel. Paying someone to write the copy (I'm useless at that!) or to copy edit your work. There's the cost of business cards and postcards and the display items and head stands. There's the cost of hiring a stand (a small fortune at a trade show) and all the time planning and developing the display.

You could argue that these aren't pattern costs, and I get that. But when pattern sales make up 98.5% of your turnover(and income)(including books) then yes, they are pattern costs, as the patterns have to pay for them. Business speak says that these costs are "indirect costs", and they're still costs all the same. And how would you calculate how many patterns have to be sold to cover all of this?

This section hasn't changed all that much. I still buy tech (Elemental afforded me a new high-spec PC for which I'm very grateful!). I still buy books and needles and spend time learning how to do things or experimenting with something.

Post production costs

Once a pattern goes out there, once it's published and in the hands of the knitter, it's costs don't stop. If an error is found, I have to spend timing working it out and sending it back to the tech editor for review, which can often take more time than the initial production (getting back into a pattern that you haven't looked at for 5 years isn't all that easy). There's time involved in uploading the revised file to the various sources, and that all uses bandwidth (my internet is mostly a PAYG modem, so bandwidth is a tangible cost).

Then there's pattern support. I'm very fortunate in that I receive very few emails from knitters needing help with my patterns, but nonetheless, I still get them, and they still take time. I spend a huge mount of time writing to companies who sell my patterns, keeping services up to date, and generally emailing about other work related things that aren't pattern support. These are all mostly good things, and essential things, but time it still is.

What about social networking? Time spent keeping up with knitters and Hat lovers? Posting photos and sharing tips? If I was a proper business sort I'd be counting those hours, but I'm not, and I don't. But it's still my time. These are post production costs too, as they are usually pattern specific.

This is still pretty much the same, too. My error rate is incredibly low thanks to all those test knitters and tech editors - they may bump up the production costs but they reduce my post production costs and the value they add to the knitter's enjoyment and my reputation is invaluable - I simply can't put a price on that.

Conclusion

Having read all of this, you might be thinking, well that's easy, you must sell thousands of each pattern!

Well, no.

I don't have any patterns that haven't covered the expenses I've laid out in the first section. But there are patterns that haven't covered the time I've spent on them. And few patterns can reach as far as helping to cover the non-production costs. Very few designers have pattern sales in the thousands on a regular basis. You'd consider yourself lucky if pattern sales reach the hundreds! 

Would it put it into perspective if I told you that we as a family live below the poverty line? I don't make minimum wage. We are able to live and keep fed because I'm frugal and our lifestyle is a cheap one. I don't have a mortgage to pay; no-one would ever give me one on my income. I'm OK with that because I'd rather we live as we do and I don't want to turn this into an emotional post, but sometimes a little context helps. We don't charge what we do for our patterns because we're trying to rip knitters off; we charge what we do because that's what it costs. We're not getting rich! And our time is no more or less valuable than anyone elses.

What you get when you buy a £3 pattern is an awful lot of time and energy and skill and expertise and creativity, all rolled into one. If you can't afford to pay that, I totally understand, because I couldn't either. But please don't expect our patterns to be free; please respect our right to charge for our work and our time. Yarn companies can afford to give patterns away for free because they're loss-leaders to them; they're trying to sell you the yarn and the pattern costs are hidden. That's not the case for us. When you buy a pattern from an independent designer, you are directly supporting a small business, an individual's creativity and maybe even helping a young family like ours.

This has changed, quite interestingly.

We no longer live below the poverty line, and this has only turned around in the last year or so. I'm not in the top league in terms of pattern sales and I must say that given a choice, I'd prefer to be more comfortable financially, purely because I know how much maintaining my health, amongst other things, is costing us. That said, I know I've a much more reliable and fiscally safe business than many designers. Despite our very cheap and frugal lifestyle, our costs of living are up in other ways, too, and I do need to factor all of this in as I review prices over the next few months. Together we still don't earn enough to get a mortgage, put it that way.

What remains the same is that many patterns don't sell well enough, and only a few do. I still don't have any patterns that haven't covered their production costs but it's always a worry, as we're not that comfortable. 

Your support and understanding is invaluable - without you, we wouldn't be able to manage any of this, let alone afford me the help I need.

The biggest changes we have ahead all evolve around moving residency. The costs of applying for residency in Italy are low, in and of themselves, but overall it's going to cost us big. I have to separate me and the business, which means accountant fees and lots of travel and admin to secure things. We also have to move tax residency and that means paying out an awful lot of tax ahead of earnings in the new residency, whilst still closing off taxes in the old residency during the changeover. Then we have to change paperwork, import the car or buy a 2nd hand one here (2nd hand cars in the UK are a fraction of what they cost in Italy) - just sorting the car out alone will cost us several thousand. These are not changes or costs that we've pushed for; we're doing all this because we have to, because of Brexit. We're looking at around £15,000 minimum for all of this, and we've been saving hard to make sure we have it. My health is costing more than we can really spare right now - I can't get the help I need from the state and I'm not prepared to live with deep chronic pain if we can raid the savings to no to - the sooner I'm healthier, the sooner I can get back to work. Whilst you might think this is all irrelevant and none of anyone's business, the money has to come from somewhere  - this is my job after all - and the stress is building daily. We might be above the poverty line now but we have huge extra costs that we didn't have before to consider. In short, we're not sitting here getting rich from pattern sales. We're real people with real concerns, just like anyone else. This isn't a hobby or a second income, it's our only income.

Well, I hope this reflection has been helpful! It's always a good idea to revisit costs, and to revisit this subject. My original blog post received a lot of traffic but almost 4 years is a long time, and a refresher on what's involved is never a bad thing.

eta/ this post was updated on 11th March 2022 with a new post graphic. The image shows the crown of my Waffle Slouch pattern.

On relief, and gratitude

This week I've had my head buried in my end of year accounts. Online submission may not be due until January but I usually like to get mine out of the way as close as possible to the year end, and me being late this year getting going was adding to the stress. I always find end of year accounts stressful, for reasons that I hope become clear.

I knew this year had been a good year, and I'd estimated that my turnover had increased by about a third. In fact, it was more than that - a huge jump of 35% on my best ever year (not the 30% I'd originally thought). 

My questimates as to my earnings and turnover are usually optimistic and rarely accurate, and so when the numbers stared back at me and confirmed that I'd done better than I thought, it was a bit of shock to say the least. 

Besides feeling ever so grateful for the continued support I receive and feeling pretty chuffed to be doing so well from (almost purely) design work, the biggest feeling of all was relief. Relief that my hard work had paid off. Relief at having that much more financial freedom.  Relief at not needing to worry so much going forward.

You'll know that I've written a lot about how hard it can be to earn a living as a creative self-employed sort, especially in an industry that is notoriously underpaid and undervalued. And on top of that, how bloody hard it is to support a family of 3 on that. We've no second income, no state top-up benefits - what you spend on my work is all we have, and it houses, clothes and feeds our family of 3.

I know so few in a similar position out there and sometimes it feels quite isolating, although I try not to show it. It's often been said to me "you do so well!" or "how do you do it?" and what I want to say, but never do 'cos I don't wanna be rude, is "because I have to". When you're in this position, it forces you to make very different decisions. None of this happens by accident; from my deliberate want to stick to small, single, portable, 3-dimensional items in the form of Hats, my insistence on self publishing and maintaining control, and my steering well clear of tangibles.

The pressure of carrying this responsibility, of being the sole earner, has been taking its toll, especially over these last few years. I had strong words with myself recently about doing what I can to take some of the pressure off myself, and we are going to have that holiday to India now. But it's still up to me to make sure we have enough. This person who feels like she's falling apart physically, who battles with her mental health. This person gets frustrated at that and it invariably feels unfair that it's down to me. And over the last few years, that has slowly been turning into resentment.

I'm working hard on not letting this resentment show. I love what I do and would still do it anyway but I'd like to have the creative freedom to not need to publish all the time. I'd like to experiment and explore more. And so that resentment comes out during my weakest times.  

Part of the discussions - both private and public - that arise from this are about me trying to find my way in this industry, as I do feel lost and often disconnected. And I try to keep myself in check and not sound like I'm complaining all the time or not constantly be pointing out to people blunt truths about our differences. I don't want to be that person, but it's difficult sometimes.

And just like that, those numbers that stared back at me took an awful lot of this away. They didn't bring any answers, they bought a need to worry less. Those numbers released some of the binding and have given me room to breathe. This has had me in tears more than once this week.

My little Hat design business can now pay Tom a half decent wage for the photography and video work he does. It's paying me the best wage I've ever had from it. It's also allowing me to pay for some admin help.  It can afford to pay for professional layout work for my books. I'm finally in that situation, after 12 years of doing this, to be able to carefully invest a little and see a better return for my time and money. My little Hat design business is still growing. We'll still never got a mortgage but owning a small plot of land somewhere on the continent is not the distant dream that it was. Our combined income is still less than what I earnt as a teacher 15 years ago, but in our universe it's a small fortune.

This last year has seen me pull even further away from online discussion groups; I've turned my online activity as far down as I can at times, and have noticeably hidden away. Clearly this suits me. With a good support system in place via the forums and decent email management, I've been able to buy back some time, and you can see what I've done with that. In fact, I've enough designs finished or in the final stages of finishing to see me through for the next year or so, and that's the most amazing feeling, especially as I've spent less time at the computer due to my shoulders! I won't be chasing my tail anymore; I'm hoping it will feel like it did when I first started, that the creative side can be indulged without the business side of things dampening everything.

I know I need to give myself a huge pat on the back for this and allow myself to be positive, and not critical, about what I've achieved. This doesn't come easily, but I do know that I've done good, and I know that I'm strong.

Yet I also know that without knitters trusting and supporting my work, I wouldn't be here. Thank you.

Thoughts on Turnover, Business Perspective & Why We Shouldn't be Comparing Apples and Oranges.

One thing though that I've been thinking of off late is turnover. Turnovers are very different things to different people, to different businesses. This should go without saying, really, just the same as what's successful and what someone needs to live on also differ wildly. And yet somehow it's till used as a measuring tool. At best it's naive to compare each other's businesses based on turnover alone, and at worst it's a huge trap that can lead you towards a messy head.

The image shows the crown of my Lenina pattern. It features the post title “Thoughts on Turnover and Business”

From my perspective, I've never wanted to grow grow my business. I don't want a business for the sake of having a business and I've always tried to keep things simple, streamlined, and not let the business side of things take over. I haven't always managed that, but it is my goal.

And given how we life, one very firm decision I've made is that there will be no tangibles. With good reason. We live in vehicles that have a big risk of condensation and damp. We'll be applying for residency in a country that doesn't have the most reputable postal system. I don't do shows and I'm not in a position to be lugging stock around. But for the most part, we don't have the money to invest in; food on the table comes first.

My business has always been this way - it started online from blogging, and although I have most of my books available through POD and have worked with print distributors for my printed patterns, 95% of my turnover comes from digital sales. That's more than enough to tell me what I need to know. (the other 5% comes from teaching fwiw)

In my almost 12 years of doing this, there have only been 2 years where I didn't see growth. The first was the year when we were fighting eviction and Aran was critically ill; the second was the year after that, when my lack of creativity the previous year became apparent. Otherwise, my business is steady and reliable despite not having what many would consider a high turnover. My growth has been slow and steady rather than rapid, and that makes me feel more confident that I'll be around for a while yet. My biggest costs are people, and that adds to that feeling of sustainability - I'd sooner put money in pockets than in boxes of stuff.

That's the thing with tangibles - they cost money. And naturally any business dealing with tangibles, on whatever level, will see their turnover rise because of them. Even if the average print run for a book costs in the region of £5K, there are extra associated costs with tangibles, and they all have to be recovered through sales. And that in turn will push up the turnover.

And from that basis alone, you can't compare a solely digital business with one that deals with tangibles, even if only in part.

Then there are other aspects to consider. Many designers have grown their businesses in very different ways, outsourcing much of the work quite early on, taking a more formal approach, and that means that they've got to sell that much more to be able to cover those extra costs and still leave themselves room to breathe. And that in turn requires different marketing approaches or different production methods, or both. And as is the nature of growth, it'll keep on going that way.

And while those turnovers are higher because they need to be, it doesn't necessarily mean that those designers are more successful; it simply means they've sold more patterns or books or products. Because they have to. Success is another of those subjective things.

The thing is, what bothers me about all this and what has led to me trying to make sense of it all, is that in the eyes of a few it becomes a popularity contest. I know I'm not alone in feeling inadequate at times when you start comparing numbers. But how on earth we can fairly and squarely compare? And really, why would you want to? 

We are each unique in our styles, our methods, our approaches and our presentation - none of these are comparable. And that is the beauty of what we do.

(how I wish I had confidence! But I wasn't programmed that way, and it takes days like these and words like these to help me come full circle again. I lose a lot of time to depression and anxiety, and that in turn is something else to be factored. And given life as it is, I'm going to give myself a pat on the back and pour a glass of wine.)

eta/ this post was updated on 11th March 2022 with a new post graphic. The image shows the crown of my Lenina pattern.

Thoughts on cats and bobbins

Understandably, my head's been a little distracted these past few days, and jumping from one thought to another, I found myself digging out my lace bobbins yesterday, and going through old photos.

me, circa 1997/8? making torchon lace

On occasion I've mentioned that I've made lace, and it's always been my intention to sit down and talk about it, or more specifically, talk about the bobbins.

hand-painted commemorative bobbins from my collection

Getting them all out and looking through them yesterday was wonderful. I've counted them all, and I've 152 spangled (i.e. with their beads and ready to use) and a further 22 ish waiting for spangling. That might sound like a lot, but if you want to make any lace with any detail then it really isn't many at all.

Lace bobbins are rather special objects in and of themselves. Mine are all hand-made, and the art of wood turning real comes into itself with these fine, detailed tools. I have so many usual pieces (of course!) but I don't think I got them out yesterday to look at those, I got them out to look at the commemorative bobbins.

Commemorative bobbins are a big part of the bobbin collection. There's way too much history to them and I'll recommend the book 'The Romance of the Lace Pillow' by Thomas Wright for anyone wanting to look further into it. Bobbins would be hand carved or hand painted, or their spangles would have special beads to denote anniversaries or other occasions. They're not only beautiful pieces of craftsmanship, they're also personal tokens, imbeud with memories.

In my collection I've a number of bobbins I'd had hand-painted by Sallie Reason, an artist who sadly passed away a few years ago. I briefly met her once, at a Lace Makers fair at the NEC, but we communicated by letter a lot, as she painted my many requests. Her work was beautiful, and the detail at such fine scale was amazing. I've never known who to get in touch with since she passed away, and I've a mental list of all the memories I'd like painted should I ever find another artist.

my most precious hand-painted bobbins

The gloss finish made these very hard to photograph, but I hope you can see some of the details!

"thank you for being there", "forever in my thoughts"

These were the bobbins I wanted to touch when I went looking through them all.

I had these two bobbins commissioned when I lost my cat Twiggy in 2001. She wasn't my first cat, but she was the cat that I've shared more of my life with than any other. She saw me through some of the very worst periods of my life, too.

Twiggy, 1995 ish

After going through all my bobbins, I went through all my old photographs. Like any black cat, Twiggy was notoriously hard to photograph.

She came from a rescue centre in Hadleigh, Southend. As every other cat came to the front of their pen to meow for attention, she sat at the back of hers, watching. I didn't see her at first, my then boyfriend did, but I didn't need any persuading that I'd found my cat as soon as I saw her.

She was docile in nature, lap and cuddle friendly, and she went pretty much everywhere with me. She lived with me in at least 5 different homes, and was always by my side as I lived through studying, travelling, and survived emotional abuse, domestic violence and an attempted rape. She saw me go from leaving home to becoming a teacher. And just as I was coming out the other side of it all, I lost her to lymphatic cancer.

I'd never felt so alone. But I knew she must have been ill for some time without my knowing, and had stayed with me as long as she could, until I was better able to cope on my own.

my favourite photo of Twiggy

I cried myself to sleep the other night, thinking about her. I wanted to feel the warmth of fond memories but found myself heartbroken as my memories were not as clear as I'd hoped. This is what having a nervous breakdown or two does for you. My memory has never been all that great since the first major breakdown and the sadness at having lost the good memories as well as the bad is almost too much. So I went looking for the memories, and this is where I am now. They're not all with me yet, and I don't know how much I will be able to recover, but it'll be worth all the tears.

We're planning on decorating the stairwell wall in the bus with photos, printed and wall-papered on, and this special lady will be up there with all our other memories. And this couldn't make me happier. After spending time yesterday going through all of these photos, I woke feeling a little lighter today. The relief of not having lost her for good.

This hasn't been the easiest of blog posts to write, and I'm sorry if I've made you cry. Crying is a release, it's good. And as much as I try not to look back in life, sometimes we have to, to remember the good parts amongst the bad.

Soothing stitches

I've been plagued recently by panic attacks again. I even dreamt about having a panic attack last night (caused by my inability to communicate with words in the dream setting) and it wasn't the best way to wake up.

So I'm taking stock, and quietly knitting on swatches that please rather than challenge today.

Trying to get to the bottom of why the panic attacks have been triggered again can be helpful.

I've committed to give a talk next month, and it's taken me a little further out of my comfort zone than I'd normally dare tread. But I used to represent my school in public speaking competitions as a child/teen. I've been the teacher and lecturer that stands in front of groups of people (admittedly, normally <18) and talk as a specialist on my subject. I don't think it's this commitment that's causing the attacks, but I guess it might be a trigger.

What I'm fairly certain of is that it's life events that are causing the panic attacks.

We've lived through years of uncertainty with Aran's health, my health, and the stupidly lengthy legal battle to save our small artistic community. Regular readers know all this, but it doesn't hurt to be reminded. And thanks to Brexit, we have more years of it to face.

We hit the road because we wanted a different life for ourselves, a hopefully better life for Aran; one where we felt we might belong rather than be the outsiders. We've worked hard for this. I work bloody hard to keep us in the black. I don't get any financial support from a partner or family or elsewhere to help me house, clothe and feed our family of 3. And quite honestly I could do with a break from all of it, but I'm not going to get one; that's not a luxury I can be afforded.

It doesn't help that I haven't found it within myself to forgive people for voting to put us in this situation. I'm sure that's not what people were thinking when they voted; I very much doubt anyone thought about us at all. But here we are, facing an unknown future as bartering chips in a stupid political game, and this is what it's doing to me.

I won't apologise for how I feel. Given our uncertain future, my current poor physical health and mental health, being a mixed bag of very strong feelings is perfectly bloody normal. But rather than sit here and "wait and see" as "the worst might not happen" I need to be pro-active in carving out the path we end up following. We're not sure yet what that means, but we'll work it out.

When I sat down to type this I didn't intend for it to be political. But I'm sat here asking myself, why not? The sheer act of making, of following your own path, are political statements in and of themselves. I've had enough of folk telling me, us, crafters and knitters, to cut the political stuff, to play a neutral game. My answer to that is no: I won't be silenced or compromised any longer.

And now back to my knitting, and planning. I'm starting to feel better already, having spoken speak my mind.