If the worst happened and our house went up in flames, great plumes of smoke billowing from the windows, cats leaping out clutching their Felix Goody Bags, I’d be battling my way through the smoke to save the one thing I can’t replace. A crosstitch, a blooming crosstitch for goodness sake.
In my defence, I lost count of how many hours it took me, it was quite a while ago. But it was a massive faff and I had needle grooves in my fingers for years afterwards, there’s a lot of me in that crosstitch.
I picked up the pattern while I was in the USA, a windswept godforsakeness of high desert in the middle of Utah. It’s a place no-one goes these days, unless it’s to visit the site of an historic happening there 150 years ago on May 10 1869. This was the exact spot that the transcontinental railroad was completed and the tracks secured with a golden spike, 17 karat gold at that, a spike being one of those big nails that holds the track to the sleeper. Locomotives were brought to face each other symbolically of course, probably so someone could design a crosstitch sampler for some Limey to torture themselves on more than a century later.
It must have been the euphoria of the historic visit, or maybe the Utah altitude, but I thought it would be an interesting challenge to commemorate my visit. What was I thinking? Anyone else, anyone else sensible, would have taken a photo and left it at that.
Anyway, I did it and I was glad, but I have a responsibility to make sure nothing happens to it. That’s why I’ll have to rescue it in case of fire, flood, or act of God.