By Hands We Live

Photo by Diego PH on Unsplash

I was always a bookish kid and I’m an avid reader as an adult.  I was branded ‘snooty’ ‘aloof’ and ‘brainy’ because I had my nose in a book and wasn’t interested in dolls, fashion or gossip.  What I was, behind the book, was scared, friendless and bullied. Books literally saved me when I was young. I’ve said it before and no doubt will say it again.

Despite doing advanced level schooling and an Honours Degree, I’m  not particularly academic - I simply enjoy words.  I love reading and I love writing. That’s it. The sum total of my academic prowess.  My parents are both from working-class backgrounds and did manual jobs (although my Mum did start out in an office).  I was never ashamed of that at junior school, but when I started mixing with middle-class kids at secondary school, I was aware of the difference between what their white-collar parents did for a job and what mine did.  It was sometimes awkward and sometimes I was looked down on.

I was always Miss average. Good at art and English and not a lot else.  I’d always been ‘arty’ and regularly sketched, painted and crafted, but there was never any question of being anything other than an ‘office worker’.  For my parents, that was the pinnacle of achievement. They never really got higher education and felt that getting a job and earning money was more important. Thankfully, a grant from the government meant I could afford to go and follow my dreams.  My dream back then was becoming an editor of children’s books. I had no guidance, no one to mentor me and no obvious way of achieving my objectives. I worked in a library, for a magazine and as a copywriter and my dreams seemed to get further and further away.  I edited a community newsletter for a while, which was good experience, though nothing seemed to get me any closer to where I wanted to be.

Marriage - and my husband losing his job a month after we got married - put pay to my aspirations and I took various admin and sales support jobs over the years to pay the bills. Having a family and bills to pay, including a large mortgage, put pay to most things. It’s a story familiar to a lot of you, I’m sure.

I was never content in an office environment and had a ‘hate-hate’ relationship with people telling what to do, especially any bullies, so it was perhaps inevitable that I re-trained in the 90’s as a chef and started entering cooking competitions.  We had plans to open a cafe, tea room or b&b, but my then husband backed out of every opportunity and refused to take any financial risks at all.

When we parted ways in the early noughties, I couldn’t afford to go into catering, which was still poorly paid, though better regarded.  It wasn’t until my health took a nose dive that I actually took the plunge and set up my own catering business. I was lucky to have the support of my then partner- now husband - who had a fairly well paid job.  The rest is history, as they say, and if you follow ‘All Kinds of Everything’ on Substack you probably already know my story.

In my 60’s I am delighted to be able to make money by using my hands and can’t think why I ever thought this was something to be shunned.  Creating for a living is fulfilling and enjoyable and brings joy to others. It should never be downplayed or denigrated.  People who do skilled manual work - hairdressers, mechanics, technicians, electricians, plumbers, builders - the numerous trades, they’re essential to society and people should be encouraged, whilst in education, to pursue these career paths.  I didn’t know you could be an artist, a potter or a dancer. These weren’t considered acceptable options for work. They were considered ‘pie- in- the- sky’ for dreamers and shirkers.  The world needs dreamers and creators as much as it needs bankers, administrators, cleaners and carers, though my parents wouldn’t agree.

I was at a workshop yesterday and one of the participants said that her mission was to bring moments of joy through her baking.  What higher calling or better feeling could there be? Bringing moments of joy to people.  People who have to work 9 - 5 in an office to make ends meet, people who are forced to work in factories in jobs that they don’t enjoy, ordinary people having a treat at the weekend.  Something created with someone’s hands and skill, be it baking, painting or potting, all creates those ‘moments of joy’ in our existence. It brings me an insane amount of pleasure to be able to create these blogs, my bread and bakes and my art work with these ageing, arthritic and well used hands.  At one time, we would all have lived by what we could do with our hands, as well as our minds, and in this worn- torn, divided world, people using their hands - and joining their hands - needs encouraging. More joy, less pain please.