The Loneliness of the
Bead Stringer
Oh Woe Is Me,
I am alone,
No one wants to help.
It is the day after the big
order has arrived from India and now I have to begin to string the beads for
sale, Yes , I know that I could bag them up, but they look better strung and
hung against the wall, rather than lying flat on the counter.
So here I sit at the Kitchen
Table, with what looks like an ever ending mountain of beautiful beads before
me. Their different coloured peaks rising up, towards the Kitchen ceiling and
beyond and I have to decide which peaks to begin with, usually picking the one
with the least beads to begin with, it’s easier that way to start.
And so my journey across the
Mountains of Beads begin, I turn 3 packets of these into a bowl, there seems to
be a moving ocean of glass beads afloat in the bowl, swirling around avoiding
my fingers as I start to pick them out. Looking down in the bowl there seems to
thousands there bobbing up and down as I attempt to get started, but really
there are only 300 in the bowl, but there is still another 30 bags still to go)
And so my Bead stringing
begins, one after one they are strung, endlessly, each bead eating another
couple of seconds of time as I continue on my lonely trek through the bead
stringing expedition, then there are those, who won’t play the game, the
runaway ones, the ones that escape, they bounce and roll all over the kitchen,
into the Hall and out towards the front door, trying to make a break for it…
There I go after them, catching some in mid bounce, other rolling to darkest
corner, below the kitchen units, behind the pipes of the radiator , below the
table, if there is a place that it is difficult to get to, it is there they
will go to hide and there I have to go to rescue them from non use.
Onwards, I go the noise of
glass bead clicking on each other as they meet, sliding down the plastic cord,
nearer the roll, one after another, the even ending pile, not seeming to be
getting smaller, like an infinity puzzle, it just keeps going on and then you
see it the first glimpse of the bottom of the bowl, faster you work to take in
the sight, that glorious sight of the bottom of the bowl.
And then suddenly, it’s
empty, a barren wasteland of bowl waiting for the next 3 bags of beads.
A feeling of euphoria, washes
over me, I feel like celebrating, but, No
Tipping in the next 3 bags,
it resumes …. Again you begin the process, one after another, just yourself
alone, humming a little song in your head or over thinking an event that
happened a couple days ago . Promising yourself that this will be the last lot
before, Your Dinner, Bed or some other occasion, that you are using to get away
from your Bead Stringing… But you are fooling yourself , you keep on racing
against the clock, pushing yourself onward like an athlete, ( I know that
sounds over the top, but I’m by myself, who’s to know.)
One bead after another,
watching for the slightest sight of the bottom of the bowl, but alas it‘s not
to be.
The phone ring, I stop what I
am doing to answer it, my momentum gone, the moment lost.
“ Hello “, I say.
.” Hi Dad, What you doing?
Says the voice of one of my Children.
“ Stringing Beads “, Says I.
“ Don’t know, Why you don’t
bag them, says he
AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
So remember, the next time
you buy a string of beads, the labour of love that went into it, the passion of
the lonely Stringer, as he sat, late into the night, (Well 10.30), working so
that you could have those beads strung.
Check out Our Strings of Beads & the ones in bags
