Earlier this month, an email entitled 'Compulsory Fun Times' found its way into my work inbox.
Initially, this made me giggle quite a lot. Until I realised that the compulsory fun involved compiling a 5 minute presentation about myself, to give in front of the entire department.
I'm not one for groups, or presentations, or presentations about myself in front of groups. This wee bloggy is alreet; you're not all staring at me.
However, being compulsory, I was unable to escape this 'fun-time'. On Tuesday, fun-time arrived. In the end, it went very well and there were a lot of questions generated about knitting, designs and yarn festivals! In the few presentations we had, a general theme was that people had given up their hobbies & passions due to working in medicine. It was actually rather sad for all involved because, I feel, as a group we do end up missing out on things we would generally otherwise love to do. Perhaps this was the reason people were so encouraging about a continuing passion.
Being unable to decide what to say about myself, I had wandered around my flat on Monday taking pictures of things I like to do, or sourcing them from my instagram.
I first shared my love of music. I bought this elderly gentleman of a gramophone in India - on the 3rd day of a 21 day trip. I was backpacking. This was bigger than my backpack. I carried it like a baby over a ludicrous amount of travel modalities. It doesn't even work properly. Definitely a labour of love.
Result: My new workmates believe me insane/eccentric/stupid.
Secondly, I brought up the topic of knitting, keeping the topic brief and listing it as an activity I take part in on a Friday night whilst listening to audiobooks.
Result: My new workmates believe me to be an old lady.
Third, I named next doors cat, John, as my favourite cat-person. My only cat-person, not being a cat owner myself. In fact my least favourite cat, but the only cat I currently know and therefore also my favourite, you see? (I was nervous by this point...)
I explained how John breaks into my house and doesn't let me remove him and how, on the morning of the presentation, he left me a dismembered Pigeon. I recounted how I couldn't decide if he really did like me and this was a gift, or if he knew humans didn't like dismembered pidgeon and this was revenge for refusing to feed him.
Result: My new workmates believe me a crazy cat lady.
We then moved onto 'sport', after which I was left explaining that 'slacklining' is like tightrope walking but on a thicker, flatter rope-thing. There were mildly impressed nods and a few interested questions.
Result: My new workmates believe me impressively balanced physically, but perhaps not so stable mentally.
'Sport' take 2.
Result: confirmation of mental instability.
This slide was headed 'My Favourite Armchair'. I confessed my compulsion to purchase this armchair, and that it's now my spinning chair. This launched a discussion as to whether or not spinning is indeed a real pass-time. It is! There are sheep, fleeces, prep, more prep, spinning, skeining, balling and knitting!
I was required to assure everyone that there is no risk of pricking ones finger on a spindle and falling asleep, therefore missing work, as there are no sharp pieces, and I have no idea where that story comes from.
There was then a heated discussion about which fairytale creature spun the gold (Rumpelstiltskin, though not himself), and whether rapunzel had a spinning wheel too (she didn't?).
Result: My workmates think I'm crazy, but have now joined the crazy boat too.
Then came my full disclosure about the extent of my hobby, & pattern designing. It was amazing how many found it amazing that people are commissioned to design knitting patterns! I described the process of commissions, mentioned that there are actually several wool festivals over the year throughout the UK.
Up until this point, the audience had been secure in their belief that they were dealing with one sheep crazed woman, but now they had learned there are thousands of us.
Result: Workmates have fallen down the yarny rabbit hole by accident and are caught unawares.
Finally, there was some typical Glaswegian optimism.
It's "Pure Heavy Beautiful Here, Man", didn't you know?