My parents are both pretty creative people – a trait I am proud to say passed on to me. My Mum spends her weekends sewing quilts, painting walls and making fancy dress outfits for my nephews. My Dad fixes up his motorbikes, hand-makes wooden cheeseboards and lays carpet in our jigsawy (call Oxford, there’s a new adjective for the dictionary) house. They also FINISH these things – a trait which I have unfortunately NOT been blessed to receive.
It’s official. I have been boxed. Finally, I have a label. Do I want a label? I’m not sure, but anything that could potentially help me understand what the heck goes on in my head nugget, aka brain, is handy. According to my personality book – which I was advised to purchase following another apocalyptic meltdown and flare up of DDS (Down in the Dumps Syndrome) – I am a Sanguine. I am Sanguine? I have Sanguine? Anyway, that’s me!