This year’s been a roller coaster for me and I’ve had little time, or energy, to write regular blog posts. But when I haven’t written for a while my head feels like there’s a carnival and a riot going on inside – at the same time.

So this is a long one. Perhaps more a stream of consciousness that anything anyone else would invest time reading- but humour me. This is catharsis.

PART ONE: BURN OUT

This year began with Tessellation Nation. I’d been thinking about this project, dreaming about it, visualising it and playing with it in my head for years.

Sometimes ideas just haunt you. They hang around, elusive, evasive, taunting you, never quite in reach but never going away. Then one day the time is right and you wake up knowing that this is the day you’ll make it happen.

So that’s how it was with Tessellation Nation; one day I just knew the time was right to put the idea out there into the universe in a typically rash and impulsive move.

I always hit the ground running and course correct as I go, that’s the only way I know how. Pre planning simply doesn’t deliver the dopamine hit that I need to fuel me through the work.

So in September 2023 I opened bookings for a course I hadn’t yet written and by January 2024 I had nearly 400 brave members on a course I still hadn’t written. The adrenaline was kicking in; it was fight or flight and I was excited and terrified.

People tell me this is a bad way to work. Things run so much better when they’re planned in advance and I absolutely agree and believe this too. But I just can’t do it!

Teaching is a student-centred process. Didactic teaching and passive learning are rightfully out of date; education is a discourse and I’m led as much by my course members as they are by me.

When I’m writing a course each lesson is informed by the previous one and the conversations, comments and questions it’s triggered. This creates a process where I’m fully engaged and responsive to course members so when I’m writing content I can hear their voices in my head and can pre-empt their questions, which in turn informs the content I write.

For the duration of this project I was generally doing the final edits on videos literally hours before publishing, then I’d hold my breath, watching and waiting for the results.

Sometimes it would be: “YAY!! I can’t believe it fits!!” and I’d breath out and direct my focus on the next lesson.

And sometimes it would be

“I’m confused….”

“Am I missing something…..?”

On these days my stomach turns over and the blood drains from my head. Have I just sent out incorrect instructions to nearly 400 people?  They’re going to be sooooo mad at me!

So this was how I spent the first 7 months of the year – on a roller coaster of adrenaline and sleep deprivation. Exhilarating highs and mortifying lows.

But – it was absolutely worth every sleep deprived night and every invitation declined because by the spring I was beginning to see the most incredible interpretations of the design. Every morning I opened my lap top with a mixture of trepidation and excitement and if there were any lesson critiques these were usually crowded out by the most beautiful images of incredible and complex designs.

Image: Tessellation Nation Blankets Clockwise from top right; Mimi, Hilary, Donna, Jules.

It took longer to write than I intended and there are still bits of content to add, redo and re-edit, but as I approach the end of the year I feel confident that this project has legs and I can’t wait for the next round to start in January.

But all of this did take its toll and by the summer I was beginning to feel the rather startling effects of burn out. Burn out is a term I’d often bandied about when I was feeling a bit tired, stressed and over worked – but this  was different. This was new, and scary.

If you position a magnifying lens between the sun and a piece of paper the radiated heat becomes concentrated and laser hot then it burns a hole in the paper. That’s exactly how my brain felt.

It was like I’d concentrated my thoughts so hard and so deep for so long, on a very small part of my brain, that I’d actually burnt a hole in it.

Then I developed brain fog. I was forgetful, I drifted off in mid conversation (although I ‘ve always been a bit dreamy) I couldn’t find words in my head, I couldn’t retain information, follow instructions, remember numbers or concentrate for long enough to read a book.

So this was how I stumbled into a busy Autumn schedule – through the confusion of a very dense brain fog.

First up was a talk at the 2024 Knitting and Crochet Guild Convention.

I’m one of those rare people that actually enjoys public speaking – as long as I have notes. It’s definitely not a good idea to trust your memory and ad lib when a significant portion of your brain isn’t working so for once I did my homework on time. I wrote my notes and re read them over and over so when the time came the adrenalin kicked in, I found my flow and thoroughly enjoyed the ride.

Reading the room as I finished all the signs were good and just like stepping off a roller- coaster I felt more alive and wanted to do it all again.

Next  was a Crochet Retreat at Breathing Space.

This has to be one of my absolute FAVOURITE events as it combines all the things I love to do: being with like-minded, kind hearted people, crafting, sharing ideas, sharing stories, meditation, relaxing and eating delicious home cooked food.

As summer fades into early Autumn this is the perfect time to hit the re set button. It’s a deep breath out and valuable rest time before battening down the hatches and preparing for the darker months ahead.

I always look forward to these retreats, they’re as nourishing for me as they are for everyone who attends – but they aren’t without some level of anxiety.

Everyone on ‘Team Retreats’ wants the weekend to be a success so for three days our antennae are twitching; we’re switched on, scanning and checking everyone’s feeling happy, relaxed, included, and creatively engaged. Success rests on making this appear effortless but in practice it’s both exhilarating and exhausting.

At the end of the weekend Jess and I emerge happy, relieved, and slightly shell shocked with just enough time to say ‘well that was good’ before doing a super charged tidy up and going home to cook dinner.

Image: Crochet Retreat at Breathing Space

I now had exactly three days to plan and pack for the next event on the Autumn Agenda: Yarndale – a wonderful fibre festival in Skipton North Yorkshire which I always enjoy immensely. Except his year I was packing not only for a Fibre Festival but also for three weeks travelling and teaching in Canada.

A catastrophiser and overthinker by nature, for me planning and organising trips is painfully slow as I play with every possible travel scenario in my head.

• If the plane crashes and I die can my family log in to my online banking app?
• Who’ll collect the dog from kennels if I don’t make it home?
• Does my travel insurance cover getting lost in the airport?
• Is the cabin bag I measured yesterday still the same size today? I’ll measure it again just in case.

Wait…..what was I just doing…..?

Somehow in these 3 days I managed to pack:

• Everything for Yarndale
• Everything for a 4 night stay in an Airbnb with stunning views and a hot tub.
• Countless travel documents, tickets and hotel booking confirmations.
• Teaching material for 7 classes in 3 different locations.
• Everything for 3 weeks travelling in Canada from Prince Edward Island, though New Brunswick, Quebec and Ontario

I was ready! Team Yarndale (that’s me, Jess, Annabel and Miranda) set off for Skipton in a hire van competently driven by Jess full of crochet blankets, weekend bags and a large pull-along suitcase weighing exactly 22.75kg

Yarndale was the perfect opportunity to showcase Tessellation Nation and also to meet up with course members who I feel I know so well, but have only actually ‘met’ on line.

It was greeted with audible intakes of breath and other sounds of approval and awe, which I accepted with gratitude. But we don’t really fit the mould at events like this – our presence is more about showcasing and socialising than it is about selling products and I’ve worked hard on creating a light-footed business in recent years.

I’m no longer weighed down by stock, merch and packaging – it’s a craft business built on process not product and this can take a little mental adjustment. But just watching peoples faces as they saw Tessellation Nation for the first time IRL was an absolute joy and the conversations it triggered were broad and fascinating.

Some course members brought their amazing work to show us, and this was admired by all of us on our stand and anyone who happened to be passing as they proudly held it up for all to see.

Lots of people just dropped by to say hello and I was reminded that behind the windows of my lap top there really is a community of kind, creative crafters.

Image: Yarndale!

Yarndale was fun and full-on. Another switched on weekend of meeting and greeting, socialising and rummaging around in my head for missing words. Burn out had left me easily disorientated in unfamiliar spaces and I was determined not to get lost on the way back from the coffee shop so I used woolly reminders as bread crumbs:

• Llama, spinning wheel, turn left.
• Bunting, felting, turn right.

I spent the last evening in our BnB reorganising my bags for Canada and making agonisingly slow decisions.

• How many black felt pens should I take? And what if they run out of ink?
• How many different yellows are enough for a colour workshop? Is that colour even yellow – isn’t it more like green?
• Do I have time to make another crochet sample tonight? It’ll only take a couple of hours…I could probably make two before morning.

Eventually I had a lucid moment and the fog cleared. IT DOESN’T MATTER! Just get in the hot tub, drink Prosecco and switch your brain off for an hour Sue.

Team Yarndale dropped me off at Skipton Train Station for the first of four trains to the Premier Inn at Heathrow airport and the first of two flights to Prince Edward Island.

A real and abject fear of getting lost at the airport meant that I arrived five hours early. I generally love these periods of solitary transition between busy events and I usually fill this ‘spare’ time with reading, writing, crochet or catching up on social media.

Looking out onto the terminal I stared at planes for two hours before passing through security and staring at more planes until it was time to board. I found my seat, closed my eyes and congratulated myself on successfully embarking on the second part of my Autumn Agenda

PART TWO: THE ROAD TRIP

Arriving on time at Charlottetown airport I stumbled into the shuttle car I’d had the foresight to book in advance and was deposited minutes later at the Delta Hotel which was hosting the Prince Edward Island Fibre Festival.

The Delta is a huge 1980’s waterfront hotel with 211 air conditioned rooms each with a refrigerator and a flat wide screen TV. It has anxiety inducing long corridors: one wrong turn and I’m back in a recurring dream with a bunch of keys that don’t fit and on the verge of having a panic attack.

On the night before the festival there was a ‘meet and greet’ event which I was obliged to attend. It’s usual for me to excuse myself from events like these as anything that sounds vaguely like networking brings me out in a sweat. You’ll typically find me at such events either grinning randomly and manically, or staring dreamily into space which can be rather off putting to people who don’t know me.

But I managed to conduct some coherent conversations, successfully  remembered who I was and I why I was there, and I visited the vendors marketplace where I was delighted by the opportunity to buy some Lichen and Lace mini skeins in beautiful jewel colours.

Over the next two days I delivered 4 workshops at the Delta in a lovely large room with waterfront views. I swam in the pool every morning and took evening strolls round the harbour, and this is where Abigail joined me.

Image: Tessellating Shapes Design Workshop

In an act of astonishing generosity Abigail, who’d I’d met through my online courses, had offered to not only keep me company on my travels – but to actually drive us 1,000 miles through the Maritimes and Quebec then on to Toronto where I’d be teaching at The Knit Café.

We had time to wander the picturesque streets of Charlottetown; we ate delicious lobster rolls and visited the historic Beaconsfield House where we joined a small group of international tourists curious enough to see the interior of this colonial Victorian building.

It’s a pretty impressive building; ‘pretty’ if you like decoration on every single surface and ‘impressive’ if you’re easily impressed by ostentatious conspicuous spending.

Image: Beaconsfield House

Victoriana is not my thing. I’m on the side of the early Modernists and find excessive interior decoration ugly and suffocating but I can live with some early William Morris Arts and Crafts.

We were escorted through the house by a delightful Chinese tourist guide who pointed out interesting things and asked us interesting questions. As we left each room she said ‘do you have some questions?’

I had so many questions.

“How and why are you in Charlottetown?”

“Why did you leave China?”

“But why can’t you go back?”

“And where’s your partner now?”

When we’d seen the nauseating human hair wreath and peeked inside every lacy, pimped up, plumped up bedroom and drawing room it was time to leave, and yes, I still had some questions. People are infinitely more interesting than inanimate, decorative objects.

After a few days we left the island via the Confederation Bridge which reaches over the Northumberland Straits to Mainland New Brunswick crossing the Abegweit Passage.

As we drove in comfort and brilliant sunshine I thought of the people of the Mi’kmaq Nation canoeing from coast to coast and the treacherous ice boats which were pushed, dragged, paddled or sailed across the Straits for 90 years.

With a brief sight seeing stop at Cape Jourimain we headed to Sackville for two nights at the Marshlands Inn. I’ll keep my descriptions brief here; this isn’t Trip Advisor and I respect everyone’s right to lace curtains. But this was ultra- Victoriana; extreme, excessive and, for me, very unsettling.

On every surface and in every nook there were fake flowers, taxidermy, Tiffany lamps and ornaments. Windows and beds were dressed with lace, nets, swags, frills, fringes, pelmets  and plump cushions.

The pleasant hotel owner explained that his wife (conspicuously absent) was responsible for the interior decoration and although I scrutinised his expression and body language for signs of humour or an apology it was clear this was a source of immense and genuine pride.

“She does the dolls too.”

It was then that I noticed how many glass eyes were watching us

Image:  Marshlands Inn

We decided against dinner in the large, beautifully laid, and strangely deserted Marshlands Inn dining room and ate at the fabulous Bridge Street bistro Ducks Aren’t Real;  “Apocalyptic eating at the end of the world”. If I had to choose a restaurant for my last supper I’d quite possibly choose this one.

The next day we said goodbye to the dolls and headed off to Lévis opposite Old Québec City on the shores of the St Lawrence river.

We had two nights booked at a functional generic hotel that was particularly hostile to pedestrians. I strayed out one night in search of an unprocessed dinner but couldn’t work out Google’s directions as I stood in the dark, in the middle of a complex interchange in torrential rain. So I gave up and ate my burger and fries under The Golden Arches dripping rain into my coke.

The Lévis – Québec ferry crossing is absolutely the best way to approach the city and as the iconic Chateau Frontenac – which looks like a castle but is actually a hotel – drew  closer I was excited to discover more about this UNESCO World Heritage City.

Image: Chateau Frontenac from the ferry

I booked onto a walking tour and energised by strong coffee and a maple tart I prepared to learn some Canadian history. With its boardwalk views, a funicular linking the Upper and Lower town and the picturesque streets of independents and co-operatively owned shops and bistros this beautiful town carries more than an echo of its European roots.

But the charming almost fairy tale aesthetic of Old Quebec also carries the landmarks of a bloody political history.

I tried really hard to concentrate on all the information our guide gave us about the city; the first European settlers who came from France and fortified the city in the 17^th century, the Battle of the Plains of Abraham, the Seven Years War and the subsequent Treaty of Paris which resulted in Britain gaining control over most of the North American land previously claimed by France.

There was so much information; dates, battles, treaties, territories, Catholicism, more battles and more dates all delivered by our guide in a tone that told me he’d done this before.

“Does anyone have any questions?”

“Yes, why are you doing this and what happened in the 15,000 years before the French arrived?”

But it wasn’t the right time, place or question.

I decided that understanding the concept rather than the detail was all my dysfunctional brain could manage so I spent the rest of my time in the city enjoying some art at the Exmuro gallery.

Here I wandered through a ‘phantasmagorial ecosystem of biomorphic creatures and carnivorous plants’; a fake fur landscape cultivated by the artist Alissa Bilodeau which was both funny, seductive and terrifying – like a perverted soft play area from your nightmares.

Jérôme Trudelle’s work upstairs was the polar opposite – an installation made of shards of glass, window frames and etchings referencing the Place Royale. This was an explosive rendering of shattered histories and fragmented memories and a modern gallery in Old Quebec was the perfect location for this work.

Image Left: Alissa Bilodeau. Image Right: Jérôme Trudelle

Before we left Levis and continued our road trip, Abigail suggested I should try Poutine, a dish that emerged in 1950’s Quebec with the unappetising sounding ingredients of French fries (English translation: chips), cheese curds and gravy.

In the UK we’re familiar with the concept of ‘chips with everything’ but ‘cheesy chips’ and ‘chips with gravy’ are listed separately on the menu and not intended to be eaten together. However, I’d entrusted Abigail with my wellbeing so I dismissed my chip prejudices and ordered what seemed like a mountain of potatoes, cheese and gravy.

In theory our sense of taste is influenced by visual perception but when a dish looks like the inside of your food bin eating Poutine is an act of culinary cognitive dissonance; it just doesn’t look as good as it tastes and I now understand why Poutine is Quebec’s national dish – it’s inexplicably delicious.

It was time to pack our bags and hit the road again and  I was excited to be going to Montreal to teach a crochet class at Espace Tricot.

Our home for the next 2 nights was a bright minimalist apartment in a modern condo with intimidating door codes and a shiny but ill equipped kitchen. We’d arrived late in the evening and were both feeling exhausted so with nothing to cook and little to cook with we ordered an Uber and had an early night.

By morning my cravings for something fresh and unprocessed had intensified so I made it my mission to locate a good produce market within a sensible radius and I was delighted to discover one of the best Farmers Markets in Montreal was just a few metro stops away.

Atwater Market has been operating from it’s beautiful Art Deco venue since 1933 and if you enjoy locally sourced seasonal produce made and sold by genuinely enthusiastic producers – this is sensory heaven. I stocked up on a few essentials and staggered back to the apartment with bags heaving with locally sourced cranberry and venison pate, mini baguettes, a whole quiche, various cheeses, avocados, fresh olives and wine.

I wouldn’t really advise going to a farmers market when burn out has rendered you incapable of making simple grocery decisions but this, I felt, was a justifiable overspend and probably a more authentic experience than a guided tour by a tired, retired, history lecturer.

After a delicious brunch of locally sourced produce we spent the remainder of the day at the Botanical Gardens where we met up with Clare, a Brit living in Montreal and a brave member of Tessellation Nation. Later we made our way to the local Knit Night at Espace Tricot so we could meet Stephanie and Naomi, the co-owners, in advance of the crochet workshop the following evening.

I love this shop!

Stephanie and Naomi are both highly skilled knitwear designers who are clearly invested in both their shop and their customers. This is evident in their beautifully curated collection of yarn – and their Thursday Knit Night, hosted by Catherine which was great fun and possibly the most entertaining knitting group I’ve ever met!

So on my return visit the following evening for the ‘join as you go crochet flowers’ workshop I felt comfortable and privileged to be teaching this lovely group of Québécoises in such an amazing space.

There really is something very special about Canadians – it’s an energy that’s supercharged, super polite and positively dynamic. It’s an energy that’s delightfully infectious and for me, eventually, totally exhausting. I needed an irony fix and I found it at La Maison du Festival in the form of a Banksy show.

Over three floors of grim humour and political one liners viewers are poked and prodded to laugh out loud whilst blinking back tears on a Dismaland roller- coaster through war ravaged states and my own gloomy seaside towns.

Image: Banky at La Maison De Festival

Next up was another waterfront mega hotel – the Holiday Inn, Kingston, on route to Toronto. I was so excited to meet up with another online course member here; Donna, who I’ve chatted with so many times on Zoom and I’ve known remotely since lockdown. We spent a fabulous afternoon admiring all her blankets and we attracted an appreciative audience in the hotel lobby.

Image: Donna’s Tessellation Nation Blanket

But it was also clear to me by now that I really wasn’t feeling well.

On the final leg of our road trip, a 5 hour drive to Toronto, Abigail and I decided our fatigue and other symptoms may be slightly more sinister than the result of a busy schedule and this was confirmed when we arrived at her condo and we both tested positive for Covid.

PART THREE: QUIET

This was disastrous. I’m absolutely NEVER ill and I’d dodged the virus for 4 years in the UK. It couldn’t possibly be true I thought as I discarded a packet of crisps that tasted like oven cleaner and looked at all the prep work I’d done for the workshops at The Knit Cafe

Devastated I contacted the shop to let them know and we decided to cancel the classes. I knew they’d already done lots of yarn preparation but they were incredibly kind and understanding – I really hope I’ll return to Toronto someday and get to teach in this beautiful yarn store.

It was now October 14^th and I wasn’t due to fly home until the 21^st  so I had no choice but to spend the next week sleeping and staring at the ceiling. I listened to audio books and podcasts and did a lot of thinking.

This seemed like the perfect time to listen to a book that had been on my radar for ages, so as I lay still and quiet for days on end I listened to Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain.

This book felt like a home coming.

Cain carefully explained to me that being quiet is not a personality defect to be ashamed of, even though the whole world seems to admire the traits of gregarious extroverts and puts them on dangerously high pedestals.

It’s not easy being quiet in a world that celebrates self-confidence and charisma. The outgoing and socially adept will always make themselves heard and generally win any argument with their brilliant debating techniques.

But the introverts are often the innovators with an eye for detail and an ear for others. We speak quietly and make our impact through tenacity and stealth.

Over the next few days I basked in the power of quiet and I found myself homesick for the first time I can ever remember. A sweet longing and a sense of deep gratitude for my home  descended on me.

A week of isolation and quiet stillness revealed to me how my drive to do everything and be everywhere this year had distracted me from what really matters and my 2025 calendar will look very different.

Next year I’ll be prioritising;

• Raking leaves (a Zen like experience and one I take very seriously)
• Reading novels
• Planting and tending my garden
• Quiet conversations with friends and family
• Sleep

Something in my head has finally shifted and since I’ve been home I can see things more clearly – I think the fog is  lifting.

I’m still fully engaged and love every minute of my job but from now on I’ll aim to do the best job I can – and then I’ll let rest do the rest.

With huge thanks and gratitude to everyone I met on my travels this year, and especially Abigail for quietly suffering my poor navigation skills.