It's probably difficult to tell, given the quite relentless cheerfulness of the Daily Blog, but I am inclined to fret.
Fretting is not the same as worrying or
agonising - both of which you do when the Really Major Problems in Life arise. No, fretting is what you do over quite minor matters which somehow get inside your head and stay there, nagging away until you could scream.
"Dinna fass your'sen," my dear Mum used to comfort me in her best Scots accent. My Mum was absolutely stone bonkers certain that she had Scottish roots. Even though her birth certificate states, in black and white,
that she was born within the sound of Bow Bells and is therefore, unmistakeably, a Cockney.
I have researched her family line rigorously in search of some Scottish ancestors but I haven't
found so much as a porage oat. I have discovered, however, why her father, grandfather and brother all had Campbell as their middle name - they were named after one Hannah Campbell. She and all her ancestors, as far as I can trace, hailed
from Lincolnshire. Mum would have been SO disappointed - but it probably wouldn't have stopped her calling everyone "lass" or "lad", reading "The People's Friend" and quoting Rabbie Burns at considerable length.
What I've been fretting (or "fassing") about at the moment are Beavers. Not the cuddly, furry animals but the small boys who aren't big enough for the Cub Scouts and proudly wear bright blue tops to show that they
belong to the Great Scout Movement. I'm fretting, in particular, about the positioning of the badges which have to be sewn onto those bright blue tops.
A week ago, I was so proud of myself for
sewing all young Sam the Beaver's badges on his top. I congratulated myself on my neat stitches, which could hardly be seen on the reverse, and the fact that, on account of my daughter-in-law's amazingly well-stocked needlework basket, I had been able to use
a variety of colours, as required by each badge. I even made note of it in the Daily Blog, if you remember, saying Sam would not now feel obliged to join the school Sewing Club.
Pride comes before
a fall. On Saturday, while enjoying our Family Day Out at beautiful Alice Holt Woodland Park, I noticed a pack of Beavers. Not the cuddly, furry - oh, ignore that, I've been there already, haven't I? I must have had the merest hint of
a fret brewing at the back of my mind, otherwise why did I feel I had to inch my way towards the youngsters, in order to steal a crafty look at the positioning of their badges.
I probably looked
quite suspicious, nonchalantly wandering among the little lads, staring at the badges on their sleeves. The more I looked, the more I started to fret. Those Welsh dragon badges should definitely, but definitely have been sewn on mid-way down each
sleeve, not at the top. The pack name tape, similarly, was far too high up. And while I think I could probably get away with the positioning of the Scout badge, there won't be much room for any special activity award badges or joining
in awards, all of which are supposed to be sewn above said Scout Badge. How can I tell Young Sam that he can't join in, or do any special activities because there's no room on his sweatshirt?
You can see why I'm fretting, can't you? I lay awake last night, fretting about Welsh dragon badges and name tapes and Young Sam going to Beavers improperly dressed. Or improperly badged.
not the End of the World. It has probably all been sorted by now by Sam's parents who will have been sensible enough to refer to Good Old Google for information on Correct Badge Placement. Yes, there is, indeed, such a weblink from which a
helpful pdf diagram can be downloaded. This gives me some comfort. It means that Correct Badge Placement is sufficiently tricky to warrant a weblink and a whole diagram devoted to it.
I've decided it'll be better all round if I dinna fass me'sen...