Meetings are strange events. Even the most united families can sometimes find it difficult to sit down round a table and agree ..............on where to go on holiday, what to have for dinner, how much pocket money should be received................... people who grew up together, know each others likes and dislikes, can fall into argument when each individual strives to achieve their aim and more importantly, persuade others to agree.
So it is not surprising when a meeting of twenty plus mature, independent minded women, gathering together once a month with the aim of exhibiting their individual genius can fall into disruption and disarray.
Maybe it is the size of a group that is influential. I sat next to L at the textile group this week, [24 of us] wranglers were in short supply to hog tie the egos clashing on the floor, in the midst of our democratic circle.
Cliques have inevitably formed, and agendas clash. It is not surprising that British politics is in such a mess, if this is an example of co-operation to the greater good. I must admit if women claim they would make a better job of it than the men, this microcosm of agreeing a way forward does not bode well.
Obviously I don't keep my mouth shut either.
L sighed and said when half a dozen of this large group met away from this arena they were so cheering and supportive that she always returned home feeling more positive.
I had to agree. I also am part of a small group, six of us meet fortnightly. Often I wake and grumble, wondering do I want to trundle over and exchange pleasantries with my compatriot stitchers, nothing we say, or do, will change the world, much less each others understandings.
but invariably i drive home again smiling and comforted.
We are off to Yorkshire tomorrow to walk Hattie the dog on the moors [maybe one last time]. The British Summer collapsed two days ago so I am packing wellies and jumpers and a pile of books and stitching. Just like home really.