Private Patterns #2: A life in 'comfies'

Private Patterns is a new blog [and Instagram] series that makes a space for us to share the small actions we find ourselves repeating. 

It's about thinking through those actions, rituals, activities, foibles and quirks which make us unique ... but at the same time it's a way to discover that someone out there does just the same. 

And, for me, it's about a regular monthly writing practise. A chance to think about the small patterns of my life right now and trap to them in time. 

You can join me anytime, for now, here's my Private Pattern No.2. A Life in Comfies ...

Changing out of my ‘outside world’ clothes and into something comfy demarcates a different stage of the day.

The elasticated stage. 

Which, along with discovery of fire, the age of female emancipation and the invention of WiFi, must rank as one of the most rewarding stages in human advancement.

[And with that you get all my priorities in a nutshell: a cosy fire, equality, and an Internet connection. What more could you want?]

You know that old cliched line from movies where, on a date, the a woman says “I’m just going to change into something more comfortable”? She tends to return in a silk nightie and slippers holding a cigarette in a slinky holder doesn't she?

Whenever I say it I'm more likely to return in an old pair of mismatched pyjamas, fluffy bed socks holding a cup of tea.

Or wine.

Depending on how well the pre-elasticated part of the day has gone.

So, yes, once I get home I find myself itching to get changed into something more comfortable or 'comfies' as we've come to call them in our house.

Not that we came up with that catchy name. No. That's something left over from when watching the reality show Girls of the Playboy Mansion used to be one of our guilty pleasures. And 'comfies' was how Hugh Hefner used to refer pyjamas whenever he wanted to settle down in front of the TV with one of his 'girls'.

[For the record that’s the only outfit related inspiration I’ve knowingly taken from Playboy. Granted, sometimes my pyjama bottoms can, at times, appear to be crotchless, but that's more to do with the fact the seams have failed due to how often they've been washed rather than anything else.]

What do you call them? 'Comfies' I mean ... not crotchless garments. 

Between my group of friends, who spend a couple of weekends a year holed up together crafting in a country cottage, we refer to the bottom half as ‘lounge pants’.

Stretchy clothes are essential on those weekends of over-eating and hardly moving, and of only once venturing out into the outside world. Although, once, [back in 2012] we did spot these fluorescent kaftans in a shop and fleetingly considered taking them on as our new uniform:

But then ... the cottages often have open fires and that fabric looks flammable; and going up in flames while dressed as a Teletubby can put a downer on a weekend break.

So we stuck with our lounge pants.

[BTW: I once heard an old man asking a shop assistant what lounge pants were for. Her answer? ‘Lounging’. I could have told him that.]

If you're stuck for what to call yours then how about ‘soft clothes’ or 'nearly pyjamas’? That's how the lead character in the last novel I read, Siri Hustvedt's The Burning World referred to them.

So that's what they're called ... but how about when I wear them?

Well here's where I suppose I could say that it’s a winter thing. Something to do with getting cosy in the days of dark evenings.

I could say that. But I’d be lying.

This is a year round pattern. And, I don't know about you, but my 'nearly pyjama'- wearing is not restricted to night time.

I say I often change into them when I come home, but how early is too early?

• Is as soon as you step over the door step too soon to disrobe? [Hopefully after you’ve closed the door behind you, but hey, I don't know how friendly you are with your neighbours.]
• If you come home at 2pm? Is that allowed. Or is wearing pyjamas in the middle of the day something only toddlers can get away with? 
• So how about after tea time? Personally that's the time that most often feels fair game to me.

Although some days I don’t bother to change when I get home because the clothes I was wearing beforehand aren’t very different to what I'd be changing into. As someone with a lifelong intolerance for structured, stiff, tight or clingy clothes, I've pretty much created a walking wardrobe of  'comfies'. So much so that it would seem extravagant to change out of one pair of leggings and into a different pair just to eat my tea.

It'd be too much like the idea of 'dressing for dinner'.

Like something out of Downton.

But then again, extravagant as it may be, there might be something in the idea. After all, Lady Mary was never caught out looking like this:

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If you want to share a Private Pattern of your own ... go right ahead!

• If you do so on Instagram use: #PrivatePatterns and/or mention me @withjuliekirk so I can find you. 
• If you have a topic you'd like to cover ... go for it ... there are no wrong patterns!
• If you'd like to take inspiration from my Private Pattern today  you could think/write about or journal/ sketch/ photograph what it is that makes 
• No pressure. No deadlines. No linky. No button. I'm leaving everything pretty undone, informal and breezy.

Private Patterns is just a simple space for us to share and connect. To offer up a glimpse behind closed doors. To nod in recognition with a smile on our faces. To see what kind of patchwork we can make by combining our individual patterns.

Julie 

More about Private Patterns:

• The introduction to the series including more on the intentions behind the project and how you can get involved.
• Private Patterns #1: From the bathroom window  - lean over and look out, see my view as I see it.

Private Patterns #1. From the bathroom window

Private Patterns is a new blog [and Instagram] series that creates a space for us to share the small actions we find ourselves repeating, which print our unique identities into us. But at the same time it's a way to discover that we're each a part of a larger overall pattern too.

As I mention in the introductory post yesterday [which contains lots more details if you're looking for some]:

• it's about connecting and realising that even though we're each a unique finished tapestry, we're made from the same threads that have been woven into others too.

 It's probably easiest to demonstrate by example and so ... let me share my first Private Pattern. 

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I don't know exactly when this became one of my Private Patterns. But that's one of their subtle [sneaky?] traits ...

... they tend to hide the weaving process from you, secretly layering up the design before you're even aware of it. Then suddenly, one day, they present you with the finished fabric saying "Here, take this. It's one of your 'things' now".

And that's how I became someone who opens the bathroom window and peers out into the world beyond ... while cleaning her teeth.

Not that I do this every single time. But enough times for me to have recognised a pattern emerging.

When I used a regular, manual, toothbrush I used to wander around the house, half-dressing/ undressing, tidying, mooching, opening/closing curtains while brushing; but then the weight and the buzzing and the likelihood of spattering brought on by the switch to an electronic brush rooted me to the spot.

Maybe it was boredom. Maybe it was the incessant noise inside my brain. Maybe it was that awful tickling vibration rippling through my nose. But something drove me to lean across the sink, grip the handle, turn it and ... push ... "Hello world, you don't mind me resting my eyes on you while I get this minty mundanity over with do you? No? Thanks."

It must be something like that because, I certainly don't do it for the view. There's no dreamy, romantic, landscape out there to meditate upon.

Firstly I tend to notice the fine, smudged, coal-like, dirt on the inside of the open window frame; complete with the occasional metallic speck left over from that time one of the works' chimneys spewed out who knows what covering the county with a light dusting of silver glitter each morning.

Which could have been the best thing to happen, ever, if not for the fear it might ruin all our lungs...

So now we've established both the state of the air quality and my housekeeping ... let's move beyond the window where I can see the rolling hummocks of moss on our garage roof and, on mornings after wind-battered nights, I can check there's actually still a roof left at all. For the record: that roof's so old it's made with asbestos.

[Just so I know: is any of this making you want to come and stay over? The works, the lung thing, the asbestos? This would make the worst ever Airbnb listing ...]

From the roofs and the moss [and the asbestos] my eyes roam over my neighbours' gardens; bird-feeders, hand-strung peanuts, a swing seat, a washing line. And beyond them the green, with the occasional dog and its walker. Past that are the allotments [I wonder what ever happened to that cockerel ... you just don't hear it any more] and up and off into the horizon my eyes alight on the various chimneys of the works. 

What they're currently manufacturing and what company name they trade under, I don't know. To those in the know, all those chimneys and ocean-liner sized buildings of industry, [a bit like whoshisface from U2], are simply referred to as: 'The Works'.

Sometimes I slide myself around, between the sink and the wall, leaning into the tower of towels, as far as I can, until I can stick my head out into the day. Which is when I feel a strange, and rare, kinship with dogs. 

Here I can utterly appreciate the satisfaction dogs gain from sticking their heads out of car windows. I may not be able to go anywhere ... but no one can stop the air from drifting and dancing over my face.

Although, naturally, it's not always daytime when I clean my teeth [twice a day, every day, what do you take me for?] And my open window ritual isn't deterred by night ... or weather.

In fact sometimes it’s the cold nights that are the most alluring. Nights when the heating’s been on all day and the air is dry, oppressive, dense. Never is the sharp black freshness beyond the glass more welcome. 

And that smell ...

You know the one. It's the kind of scent that, in another time, would drive your Grandmother to say “You smell cold. Get in, get in, get those boots off. Get in front of the fire!"

On these nights I scan the black sheet for light and movement. High up the stars shimmer white while lower down, in brothel-red, the lights on the shoreline wind turbines flash to prevent aircraft, and maybe geese, from flying into them.

And I ponder how the turbines can be there, right there that spot, when that’s not where the sea is. Yet it must be. Unless they step out of the sea and head inland dusting sand and salt water from their ankles every evening. Apparently, much like my centrally heated dried out face, my sense of geography needs a little refreshing too. 

And I think I'll leave it there. It only takes a few minutes to clean my teeth after all. Anything else is just dawdling ... drifting ... daydreaming. 

Besides ... it is still only February out there, and I'm letting a draught in. If I ... can just ... lean over ... and pull that window over ...

Come in, come in. Get in front of that fire. 

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If you want to share a Private Pattern of your own ... go right ahead! 

• If you do so on Instagram use: #PrivatePatterns so I can find you. 
• If you have a topic you'd like to cover ... go for it ... there are no wrong patterns!

If you'd like to take inspiration from my Private Pattern try could thinking/writing about / journaling / sketching / photographing ...

• your morning / evening routine.
• a moment out of your day that you often take for yourself.
• a favourite/least favourite view from a familiar window.
• something relating to how you seek/find fresh air. 

No pressure. No deadlines. No linky. No button. I'm leaving everything pretty undone, informal and breezy for now.

Private Patterns is just a simple space for us to share and connect. To offer up a glimpse behind closed doors. To nod in recognition with a smile on our faces ...

Let's see what kind of patchwork we can make by combining our individual patterns.

Julie

Introducing ... Private Patterns

It's National Storytelling Week this week so it seemed like the natural time to launch Private Patterns my newest blog feature all about telling stories. 

Stories about you. 

Well, don't panic, I won't be telling stories about you ... that would be weird [and  where would I get my information?] but, if you choose to join me from time to time ... this series offers you a space to reveal a little something about the patterns of your life.

What are Private Patterns? 

Apart from being a blog series I've had scribbled in a notebook for over a year, and a name which has gone through a dozen changes, Private Patterns are:

• those actions, quirks, behaviours that you find yourself repeating.
• those small rituals you carry out daily, weekly, monthly. 
• those moments which, experienced singly, wouldn't be worth commenting on, but when repeated have a cumulative effect in defining your individuality. 
• those small experiences which, when repeated, begin to lay down the grooves upon which you continue to run. 

Now, the aim of the series isn't to spur us all in to major confessions about our deep seated obsessions! No.

• The aim is to mull, meditate, ponder and drift over what’s yours on a small, everyday, even mundane, scale.
• The thrill will come from revealing what you've always thought was just one of your 'little foibles' ... then discovering that someone else knows exactly what you mean because they do it too! 
• It's about connecting and realising that even though we're each a unique finished tapestry, we're made from the same threads that have been woven into others too. 

Those may be big claims but that doesnt mean the pattern itself needs to be deep and meaningful!

• It could be something as fun - but downright essential - such as how you eat a Kit Kat. Are you finger biter? Or snapper? Are you an edge-nibbler? A tea dunker?
• How about how you make or take your tea, the ritual you carry out. Milk first, last, never? What about the colour? Barely there? Bad false-tan-orange? 
• Or how do you organise the clothes in your wardrobe? By colour? Style? Season? Organise? What's organise? 

Stuck for ideas? Don't force it ... you'll catch yourself uncovering them when you least expect it. There are countless possibilities just waiting to be revealed ...

• Just let your mind wander to all those small things you repeat ...
• those things that are so near you're almost too close to see them clearly ...
• then take a step back ... as if moving your eyes away from a pixilated screen ... further and further back until you can see the bigger picture.
• That's where you'll find your private pattern. 

How will Private Patterns run?

• Once a month -  most likely on the 4th - I will share one of my own Private Patterns here on my blog.
• Anyone who wishes to do the same is welcome to join me.
• Mine will take the form of a piece of writing, probably with accompanying photos.
• Yours can be anything at all!! [Collage, journal page, scrapbook layout, poem, photograph].
• If you prefer you can share your #PrivatePatterns on Instagram. Just hashtag it and let me know @withjuliekirk
• Your topic doesn't have to have anything at all to do with mine! You choose what to write about. However ...
• You're more than welcome to take my topic as a starting point for your own. 
• After all it is pretty likely that at some point you'll make a - "I thought I was the only person who did that!!" - connection then feel inspired to share your side of the story.
• Reading other peoples' posts will become a great way to generate ideas on what you can share next.
• And ... it might be fun to occasionally all work to the same topic. If so, I'll let you know in well in advance.

OK ... that's enough vague planning!

I'll be back to share my first Private Pattern tomorrow. It involves a bathroom. 

Bet you can't wait.

Any thoughts or questions I'm here [there, and everywhere].

See you soon. 

Julie