Gather letter 25 October 2020

Happy Sunday.

Firstly, a huge huge thank you to you if you have sent me a message or an email this week. I cannot pretend that it has been an easy one although, as ever, one somehow just carries on, and the world keeps turning.​

It seems so important at the moment to try and do the right thing. I understand that life is full of nuance and that perspective is all and that if something seems really obvious, it means one is probably missing something. But it feels like so much is wrong at the moment that it is hard to keep striving for good. The Agriculture Bill, the voting against free school meals for children, the corruption and cronyism, the unintended consequence that stopping shops in lockdown areas from selling non-essential goods means more and more money flows out of communities and into Amazon. No, I never thought I'd be standing up for supermarkets either. I told you morality was relative.

​But lift our heads and fight we must. After my somewhat catastrophic meeting at work, and once I had baked bread and created my first dye bath, and once I had settled and processed some thoughts and feelings, I wrote a letter. I wrote about all the families that have left their mark on me, the cases where I have had to choose between giving a child a hope of a life and safety, and breaking the heart of a parent who had been born with so few choices themselves, who had suffered so much and here was me, another person that they had thought had understood, betraying them. I wrote about the costs to me of containing and absorbing such complexity and pain. I said that I knew she thought that offering me new opportunities and new projects would revive my interest and my enthusiasm, and a few years ago, it would have worked. Now though? Right now, she is asking more of me, and I truly truly have nothing more to give. 

The outcome? 

I am four days a week starting tomorrow. It's not the end, but it is the beginning of the end. 

This week has been even busier than usual. The wonderful Kelly, who packs your orders for you, went into the deepest of self-isolations the day before the autumn shop opening, meaning some rather dramatic rushes up and down the A38 to fetch all the quarentined stock (yes, we are back to my handwriting on the parcels). It means that my sitting room is now piled high with boxes and fabric and envelopes and books and books of stamps. So much so that when a PCSO came round last night to talk to me about how my little car had been speeding in the village (38 in a 30mph zone, just in case you believed I was one of society’s good guys), we could barely fit him in the room. 

​Also, excitingly, I am on the final final draft of the book. Now called Grow & Gather  (apparently the sales team didn't like A Field in Flower), it is on its last round of amendments before going off to the designers. 

​Oh and my obsession with natural dyeing has shown no signs at all of abating. I have decided to add a piece of fabric to your Christmas Gather box (posted to you around 1st December, just in case you would like to use your bundles for gifts) which will be ready scoured and mordanted. Literally all you will need to do will be to make a dye bath which is, basically, a really big cup of tea. Full instructions will be included. More details to come, but I am very excited about all of the things in your Christmas box.

​So how have I kept sane you ask? Bread. I have baked bread. I promised you all the details, and there is a blog post up right now, with a full video. I actually filmed the video last weekend whilst I was working in the kitchen garden, so please forgive the fact that my shirt is more hole than fabric in parts. 

​Also, I am loading up all the old newsletters that have been sent out onto the blog. I started writing my weekly Sunday night journal in June 2019 so there are quite a few. I think I’m up to September 2019 so far, but I will keep adding more during the day. Whilst making quince ketchup and stewing nettles.

​I do hope, wherever you are, you are safe and well. If you are feeling like it is all just too hopeless and dreadful, put a sourdough loaf on, donate to Edible Bristol or Fairshare, and write to your MP. I promise you, you’ll feel all the lighter for it. 

Much love

G x