My sister and I are 16 months apart in age. Kim is older than me, and when I was younger, she looked out for me with an extraordinary fierceness, especially after my big accident (see my post Resilience.) We were always thrown together. I reckon it must have been annoying to have your scrap of a sister with you ALL the time but for the most part she put up with it with good grace. Once, we shared our meagre resources to buy jazzies which she was the keeper of in her deeper and older pockets. She ate them all. All of them. I have not forgiven her for this, obviously, and often buy her a bag of these bad boys just to remind her of her treachery.
I left Hull, our home town, at 18 and for a number of years when I was developing my career and she was looking after her growing family we did not see each other as often as we might have liked, but there’s an unbreakable bond there which was cemented through her incredible and practical support of our parents during the pandemic, and the subsequent time we spent together (along with our brothers) at our mother’s bedside as she was dying (today would have been my mother’s 85th birthday, and I know we both miss her. My mother was also the hub of our family distributing information about all of us, to each of us.)
The thing about Kim is that she is a formidable person. I know she doesn’t think that in anyway, about herself, but if you need practical support and help, she is the person you want in your corner. She can navigate any system, with persistence. She won’t give up until the outcome is reached.
Since our mother died in 2020, a lot of things have happened to both of us, but we’ve been resilient, with a commitment to cracking on. And we’ve also, finally, found a way of keeping in touch regularly. If anything, I’d say we’ve got closer.
The other thing that has happened since our mother died is that whenever I’m in Hull, we go for a walk. These can be long or short (depending on our weak bladders, usually!!) where our conversations can range across anything and everything.
We have a few things in common – we are both swimmers (I’m faster: you know it’s true Kim), and we love a good bit of theatre. And we’re both skilled craftswomen, crafts we learned from our mother and her mother. I knit, most days, and Kim crochets blankets (I need more bloody pictures of them, Kim!). She also used to make the most amazing world book day and Halloween costumes for her kids. She’s super talented.
In January this year, I made a tentative plan to set up a micro business called Closerknit which was going to be solely fixed on crafts, knitted items for sale etc. I even bought a website domain of that name. The thing is I knit whilst I’m watching TV and Kim crochets. My partner calls it creative fidgeting, and it is, it keeps one part of your brain busy while the rest of the brain processes the big stuff. I think this is a way of healing – at least, it doesn’t deplete precious resources.
I asked Kim if she fancied being part of Closerknit. Well, actually, I asked her if she wanted to contribute to some baby boxes full of hand-knitted things. And she did. I mean, it’s not going to make us millionaires, but it is going to be keep us out of trouble, and Kim and I now keep in touch most weeks to discuss one aspect of this or another, as well as other things that are important to us.
So, when I went freelance in June as an arts and culture consultant and was looking around for a business name it actually took a lot longer than it should have to realise that Closerknit would work for the kind of work I do with organisations too. I am a passionate advocate for work that cements relationships, finds space to tell stories that are often untold, that centres people, learning, and keeps us out of trouble.
The other thing I’ve had reinforced by my sister this year is that you can do it even when it’s difficult, and people don’t fully understand your motivations. That actually you don’t have to be afraid, or explain yourself and that sometimes, all of a sudden you find yourself frightened by nobody in the world* - that you feel the fear, and do it anyway**
*a bastardised Matilda quote. My sister and I saw Matilda the musical at the cinema at Christmas last year, and we loved it.
**Susan Jeffers
Lovely words, she is an absolute gem and I don't know where any of us would be without her. Love you Mum 🫶🏻🥰
Ok you swim faster then me, just! I admit to the jazzies too but generally I’m quite a nice person