Confessions of an addict

You would not need to be a genius to work out that we are at serious risk of post-holiday blues when we return to New Zealand.

And not the ‘unsettled for a fortnight’ type. This expedition has been a key family focus for a very long time - a few years in fact. It has dominated meal-time discussion, generated lengthy and complex to-do lists and offered a potential shining light at the end of any dark long tunnels. And while I subscribe to the idea that a holiday should be equally enjoyed in thirds (the anticipation, the actual event and the post-performance analysis) it would be hard to recover from three months of sunshine, relaxing, no errands and no unnecessary ‘noise’.

The three older children will be fine. They will slot back in to life and relish the structure that comes with the daily school routine. Even more so they will adore reconnecting with their friends. George already has visions of wandering the neighbourhood and knocking on the doors of his nearest and dearest. He has talked about it for weeks.

Jamie will dive back in to his work. He will be playing catch-up for some time.

Henriette starts kindy the week after we return to New Zealand. It will open up a whole new world for her - one of painting, sandpits, interacting with children her own age, learning to stretch her wings and fly a little outside the confines of our happy little family. Although as she has given herself a substantial haircut this morning in secret I do wonder what she will get up to.

But me. Hmmmmm. For the first time in years I will have some regular child-free time. Topped with post-holiday blues I am bracing myself for rocky waters ahead. First world problem, I know.

But salvation awaits me. In the form of miniature flowers and floral patterns.

You see, I have realised that I might possibly have a wee addiction to Liberty. A review of new acquisitions for packing purposes exposed my not-so-healthy little secret. When I see it, I buy it. In bulk as if I live in constant fear that my supplies may run out and I’m left with….nothing.

A holiday highlight has to be shopping in Liberty itself in London. Even more so that I was child-free and Jamie was particularly accommodating, in fact I’d go so far as to say encouraging. A friend emailed me last week after reading my blog post about London saying she was thrilled I had made it there. She confessed it was truly her favourite destination in the world (and she is particularly well-travelled) and that the beautiful wooden stairs were her own happy place. A woman of great taste. I was pleased to know I am not alone.

You see, I acknowledge there’s a large amount of old-fashioned nana involved in the brand that is Liberty. And that’s the bit I find invigorating. It’s all about taking what is beautiful and fashionable from the past and making it relevant for the current.

Not only have I purchased fabric, binding and thin ribbon in Liberty fabrics in Europe, I have also bought children’s clothing. They make me smile each time I open the girls’ wardrobes.  Added to the existing Liberty clothes we had packed in our suitcases the girls' capsule wardrobes are a floral celebration of innocence, prettiness and enduring charm. Not like the black wardrobe of the grim reaper I see when I look at mine!

And while I know I’m certainly not going to win any awards for cutting edge fashion - or even for mildly keeping up with fashion trends - I am a happy old soul. Clothes do not maketh the man but they certainly add to a child’s overall charm (I keep telling myself - as if clothes are an investment in a child’s future prosperity and happiness).

As for beating those post-holiday blues, I will be spending some quality time with my sewing machine. My mind is full of ideas for dresses, skirts, smocked tops and Liberty-lined jackets for three very lucky little girls. At least all the grandmas in Wellington will appreciate my efforts. And now that I have confessed to my naughty little habit I will have to produce something to show for it. Otherwise all my purchases will just become clutter on a shelf of grand ideas that never quite made it to fruition. Now that’s something Marie Kondo would certainly disapprove of.