I am not a sports fan usually, but every four years I find myself beguiled by the Olympics. For all the nauseating 'how did you feel?' interviews and loathsome nationalistic fervour, I find myself glued to this showcase of skill, poise and tenacity. I do occasionally wonder whether dedicating quite so much of one's life to, for example, throwing something further than anyone else is the best possible use of one's time, but perhaps being a lawyer who sews things is not the best possible use of my time either.
In any event, whether or not athletes ought be lauded quite so highly compared with, for example, Nobel prize winners (at least in Australia) does not stop me from marvelling at the spectacle. Perhaps it is because I am uniquely untalented in all forms of sports, lacking speed, strength, hand-eye coordination and desire, that I am so impressed by these athletes. I really don't care about equestrian showjumping, kayaking or BMX racing, but nevertheless find myself drawn into these events, my heart in my mouth. The thought of competing, with all the internal and external pressure to bring to fruition four or more years of hard slog, is absolutely terrifying to me.
So, over the past fortnight, I've spent my evenings in front of the telly with a bag of old woollens that I'd felted through stupidity, or that had otherwise been transformed into unwearable items, and sewn these hearts and birds.
Now that the Olympics are over I'll be able to get back to my machine, and work on a few projects that have been waiting for some attention. Thanks London, you did a fabulous job of keeping me entertained for the past two weeks. Here's a little heart for you.
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