As a child I nailed 40:40, the game where you all run and hide from the scout and try to creep back to base. I was a demon Sardines player, packing myself into spaces no one else dared. I stalked, crept, pounced and camouflaged. I loved getting lost and that feeling that no one knew where I was at that particular moment.
As a teenager I lamented the loss of these games as my awkwardness meant I wished for nothing better than to hide. I transferred the game into hiding my inner self, going up to London, alone and uncontactable with nothing but the promise of being home for dinner.
Today I am the world's best and worst hermit. I like to retreat and console myself with quiet bliss at home. This happens more and more since the arrival of Playful Babe. We hide together: long meandering nap time walks, baking sessions with the phone switched off or ignored and a quiet defence of unanswered mail or messages.
Yet there is this blog, the podcast, Twitter and Ravelry. A whole part of the Internet that I skipped across playfully and made friends. What of those places when I'm going through one of the biggest Hide and Seek phases I've ever encountered?
They become quiet. Still. Unused.
They are hidden and I'm not sure how long I will count for. Almost certainly until I figure out my new words and identity. I have a complete metamorphosis occurring and like when I was a teenager, struggling to learn who I was, I feel the same way now: lay low and watch for signs of emergence.
I'm skulking, keeping an eye on base though. I have ideas and thoughts. I'll share them when I next make a streak for base so don't drop your guard ok?
Till next time.... X
