The idea of turning an old jumper into a handbag floats my boat
IHAVE just turned 33. Is it wrong for someone my age to be obsessed with Better Homes and Gardens? No, this isn’t one of those rhetorical questions, it’s ok to tell me I’m a freak.
And the thing is, it’s not a new addiction . . . I’ve been watching it religiously since way back in 1996 (bless, I was only 19 then).
Yep, I’m the perfect example of a 1950s housewife ... except I seem to be missing the husband part.
The idea of turning an old jumper into a handbag, or being shown how to make a piece of artwork using only a piece of PVC pipe and some paint, floats my boat.
I take sewing classes for pleasure and right now I’m working out how to make my nephew an Iggle Piggle t-shirt (I personally think the little fella in blue and his nonspeaking friends are a bit creepy, but the kid loves what the kid loves, so whatchya gonna do?).
I’ve been an old soul my whole life, heck, I even had a chocolate-making business by age 12. I would walk around the old folks’ home across the road with my hand-crafted goodies and make a fortune. Looking back now, I cringe at what I must have done to diabetes levels at that place.
In my one-bedroom unit in the inner city, I don’t get many opportunities to build a child’s playground.
And it doesn’t matter that I will never undertake half of the projects on this show, and the ones I do start will sit unfinished in a cupboard for many, many years.
Or that I will never build my own pergola. I like knowing that I could, if my life depended on it (I have no idea what scenario lends itself to my life hanging on me building a pergola, but it’s better to be safe than sorry). I love BH&G in the same way I’m obsessed with Relocation, Relocation — even though I will never sell my (imaginary) London pad for a farm in the English countryside. It’s just entertaining. I have unnatural fear of gelatine, so I won’t be trying Karen’s raspberry jelly with rose-scented yoghurt this week, but how can you ignore Fast Ed with words of wisdom like: ‘‘ For all its fancy name, kofta’s really just a spicy rissole, formed into a sausage, chucked onto a stick and whacked onto a BBQ, it’s so easy.’’
This week Dr Harry sorts out a pool-crazy poodle and we head home with singer Kasey Chambers, who I wish would just get rid of that ghastly piercing (see, told you I was an old woman trapped in a semiyoung woman’s body).
Next week is the Christmas Special . . . teach me how to hand-make some Chrissy paper oh wise (wo)man Tara. Feeling Better: Kasey Chambers with sons Arlo and Talon and host Johanna Griggs.