Having said that, I do sew. Don't really enjoy it but I can tackle most things. When Daughter A. first told me the news about George, I decided to make him/her an activity blanket. The concept was simple, a colourful baby-sized soft padded blanky with lots of baby-interesting bits sewn in, loads of baby-gripping bits that popped off and a whole bunch of ingeniously placed baby-manageable buttons, bows, poppers, pockets and whatnots that would present baby sized cerebral and physical challenges and be an essential aid to his/her development.
A tall order for one nearly-to-be-granny woman and her sewing machine you might think - nah, not a bit of it. After three months in construction (had a slight hiatus when B., my large hearted, tiny brained, fading yellow labrador, popped off several of the baby-gripping bits and ate them) a small fortune in materials, a bit of unpicking (I hate bloody unpicking) and a lot of swearing The Activity Blanket was complete.
True, its not quite as compact as I'd planned (size of a small double duvet) so not much use in a crib. And, true, my cunning idea to have it folding in on itself in order to fit into a handy integral little bag when not in use went slightly awry (made a large drawstring sack instead). And I might have got a bit carried away with the cerebral, physical, challengy bits (its a tad more Kryptonesque than Playmobile) But apart from that, The Activity Blanket is a truly glorious and singularly unique thing to behold. Daughter A. and soon-to-be son-in-law S. loved it, bless them. And even if the slight design flaw prevents George from retrieving all of the rattles, soft toys and doodahs until he/she is in his.her teens, at least he'll/she'll know that Granny (no-name) made it for him/her.
On another granny related issue, this morning, when I took dog B. (fading, thick etc. lab.) for a walk, and I was indulging in my new spectator sport (granny spotting, very compulsive, bit worrying) I spotted a brilliant new granny type. She was quite old, grey hair etc, in charge of a little herd of grandchildren, and a dog, (dog B growled at it, grumpy old thicko) but she was riding one of those quad bike disabled scooter type affairs. The thing is, she had her grandson on her lap, he looked about six or seven, and he was driving. How wicked is that? She must have had nerves of steel. (Secretly, I still feel apprehensive when my children take the wheel, and they passed their driving tests years ago) He drove her over all the lumpy bits in the rec, up and over a couple of small steps then down the grassy bank by the pavillion. They were only going about half a mile an hour so they were quite safe. Don't think I could ever be that trusting. Good on you Quad Bike Granny, you're definitely getting a slot on my list of Grannies Worth Emulating.
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