How not to make an origami crane

I just discovered that I have been folding my origami cranes wrong all this time. Oh woe, and did I not include one of the mutant creature in my crafty Canadian sister’s birthday card thinking There, that’ll show her. I can do it too! She politely didn’t say much about it in her next telephone call. Now I know why.

I was just folding my nine-hundred-and-seventy-second (well, seems like) origami crane. The light was going and I was squinting at the instructions – yes, I need the book open in front of me even now – and spotted a tiny arrow around the bottom of the bird. Why would there be an arrow there? You didn’t need to turn it.

Or did you? Frantically I leafed through the book squinting at every single photo of an origami bird within it – still not turning the light on – and realised all this time I had been making the wings into the head and tail and vice versa. No wonder it had been so difficult to fold that head and tail down. No wonder they looked so mutant. They were mutant, and how could I not have seen that?

My only consolation is that others have failed the origami crane test too. This is Chelsea Cain writing in “The Hippie Handbook”.

WHAT YOU NEED

  • A square of paper (a different color on each side)
  • Approximately 20 hours

It pains me to even see the word origami. As a child I spent days on end holed up in my room trying to fold tiny pieces of colored paper into so-called peace cranes…

Oh, I am mortified, especially as apparently Japanese children learn to fold these tiny creatures in school. When I think of my craft efforts at school – the loathsome papier maché ball that went brown because all the poster paint just kind of mingled into one – the painfully stretched piece of cross-stitch – that awful thing with the cardboard igloos and the cotton-wool snow – telling my needlework teacher I couldn’t thread the needle of the sewing machine because I was left-handed, and it turning out that she was left-handed too…

However, I must try to look on the bright side since, according to the BBC news app, it is a Scientific Fact that cheery souls tend to live longer. Looking on the bright side, therefore, I have just made my first anatomically correct origami crane. I wondered what to do with all the mutants and have discovered – cheerily again – that the cats rather like them. They don’t get outside to massacre real birds so a paper one is a treat.

Cranes have very long life spans. In legends it is said that they can live for a hundred, or even a thousand years. There is an old tradition in Japan, of folding a thousand paper cranes and presenting them to someone to convey sincere wishes for health and long life. They are given as get-well or wedding gifts, often strung together so that they can be suspended from the ceiling.

In my origami book (A Thousand Cranes: Origami Projects for Peace and Happiness) Florence Temko tells the story of a little girl called Sadako. She was born on January 7, 1943. When she was two years old the atom bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, which was only a mile away from Sadako’s home. The house she and her family lived in was burned down and they had to move to another district.

Sadako grew up healthy and energetic, but when she was twelve she fell sick and was diagnosed with leukemia, a result of the radiation from the atom bomb. In hospital, she and a group of her fellow patients began to fold cranes. Within a month she had folded her thousand, but she did not stop. She carried on folding paper cranes until she died.

Nowadays there is a statue of Sadako in the Peace Park in Hiroshima, holding a crane above her head. Children from Japan and other countries send paper cranes to Hiroshima every year and they are heaped around the statue as a kind of prayer for peace.

So, I am encouraged to keep on folding, one or two a day. And now with their wings and their tails the right way round.

peace monument

 

Caught in the zeitgeist’s vapour trail

I am just old enough to have been pervaded with and forever infected by hippiedom – with that far out philosophy, with those general interests, with that taste for eccentric, narrow-hipped, wild-haired men – but not quite old enough to have really been a part of it. Also, not American. That would have helped. There were so many cool things hippies could do that I, somehow, couldn’t. The zeitgeist caught me, briefly, in its vapour trail as it swept on and on, and out of sight.

Out of sight, man…

Of course it’s possible that I would have been a hippie-equivalent wherever I happened to tumble into the time continuum this time around. A (nasty-ish, female) someone told me once that other people thought of me as Nice, But A Bit of A Drippy Hippie.

O wad some Power the Giftie gie us / To see oursels as ithers see us!

Thanks, but no thanks, Giftie.

However, recently they seem to have been coming back in full force, those thwarted far out hippie dreams, and I have happened across a really good book – sad in places, funny in others – called The Hippie Handbook* by Chelsea Cain. Chelsea grew up in a hippie commune centred around an old white farmhouse in Iowa, meaning she is now ideally qualified to remind us of lost hippie skills and the whole atmosphere of those far off days.

I actually bought the book to learn how to tie-dye a new white sheet and turn it into a long skirt – not a good idea as it turns out because new white sheets are full of starchy stuff that won’t take the dye. But along the way discovered a whole lot of other bits and pieces I either never learned or have long since forgotten:

  • How to Anthropomorphize Inanimate Objects
  • How to Amble
  • How to Howl at the Moon
  • How to Milk a Goat
  • How to Build a Compost Pile
  • How to Do a Sun Salutation
  • How and When to Flash a Peace Sign

and much, much more. It’s a slight book – I finished reading it in a few hours – but it was so much fun.

You see I had this plan, maybe to somehow make enough stuff of some sort to take a stall at the monthly Artisan Market on the mainland. Could I pass as an Artisan? Probably not, but maybe… Not having a car any longer would be something of a problem. Would have to be a mountain of small things I could fit into Mum’s old shopping trolley…

As I write this I am conscious of sounding increasing like that gormless Neil from The Young Ones:

Look at all that washing UP!

So, now I could not only tie-dye a tee shirt – or a sock – or something – but I could milk a goat if I had one, or macramé a belt! I’m going to have a go at a macramé belt straight away! Would they go down well at the Artisan Market, do you think? Possibly not, but I’m going to macramé some anyway. Macramé – the new…whatever. Maybe I should try it out with garden string first, just in case…

* In the course of writing this I discovered that there is also a WikiHow entry for How To Be a Hippie, so I have linked it. Who does those dreadful drawings, I wonder?

By the way I have also discovered the BBCs original knitting pattern for Dr Who’s scarf! I used to wear something very similar over a long black winter coat in my almost-hippie days. Maybe I’ll make one of those as well…