Anakana Schofield – Award Winning Author of Bina, Martin John and Malarky

I come from a lineage of useful and physically able women. Farmers and fixers and get up on the scaffolding and pick up a hammer and chase a goat and bang a stake.   I often wish I could be more useful. I have the ambition to be useful. I can even imagine scenes where I am useful. I have dreams about fixing cars, and strangely flying like Superman (not a necessary trait for being useful). I constantly stop to admire people digging holes and inquire about what they are doing and ask again the next day and the next til the hole and digger is gone. And yet it never fully translates (yet?) into being useful or as useful as I aspire. I lack the logic to carry out the steps towards the useful task, so will randomly batter and fling away at stuff to an unsatisfactory outcome.

But the victory is tall and sweet when it occasionally adds up, like it did with the toilet plumbing dilemma at the weekend. Fixed! I suppose it is legit and useful to go around admiring useful people and people busy being useful are glad of a chat about how much use they are being.

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