Fears and lace fairs

There’s just one day between me and the departure lounge. The butterflies of terror are fluttering. Moving abroad doesn’t faze me particularly – my accommodation’s been sorted by the company taking me on, and my Spanish is basic, but it’s enough to get by on and I have no doubts that it will improve dramatically once I’m in the situation where I’m having to make phonecalls to Spanish hauliers! Besides, if my sister can spend 6 months living in Norway when she didn’t initially speak the language at all and come away having loved her time there and speaking more or less fluent Norwegian, then I can do the same in Spain with two years of toiling over the grammar books behind me. And it’s not as if I haven’t lived and worked abroad before. My fears are more job-related. Going off to work in an office and for the first time being truly responsible for things that matter… What will it be like? What will I have to do? Will I be good at it? Will I be able to learn all the computer programmes and logisticians tricks as quickly as I’m expected to? Natural worries, I’m sure, but worries nonetheless.

Excitement is playing in the pit of my stomach too. I’m going to Spain! New opportunities for exploration, self-definition, friend-making, horizon-broadening and language-learning. What should I feel if not excited?

A trip to the 20th Great Northern (Not Just Lace) Fair marked the end of my time at home, as my dad and I took my mum’s craft stall to Pudsey. From 10 ‘til 4, more lacemakers that you would believe possible to exist flooded through the doors. The clientele were predominantly silver-haired women, there to browse stalls of thread, lace cushions and pins. Needless to say, our brightly coloured stall of felt stood out, and once the obligatory lace-related purchases had been made, plenty of the lacey ladies revisited us with their spare pennies. I stood behind the stall, demonstrating needle-felting while I created a menagerie of dogs, cats, monkeys and rabbits to turn into brooches, attracting curious glances, questions and conversations in the process. Helping out at craft fairs is certainly something that I’m going to miss once I’m in my own little world of salad-processing work.

Onwards, then, to a suitcase, a satchel, and Spain.