Buttons and Shit

So, it turns out that choosing a name for your company isn't as straight forward as you might think!

6 months after first beginning to consider names and I have only just finally agreed on something...

When first thinking of a name I was fixed on MADE or MAKE... I then however was introduced to the world where everything is branded and almost every name you can think of has already been taken. Even more impossible than that is finding a web address that has not been taken, or more annoyingly has not been bought by a web hosting site who then tries to sell the web address back to you at 50 times the price it should be!

I then decided I wanted a really cool wacky name and looked at things like 'Spirit' and 'Teabag'. But again with out meaning to I'd come up with a name which everyone sniggered at like immature school boys, and after several day's of introducing the idea of Teabag to a few people, one such person finally had the decency to make me aware of the sexual act known as Teabagging! It was then my turn to giggle nervously and instantly turn bright red in embarrassment at the idea that I had even considered to call my business Teabag! My god.. I've just looked back at a list of name ideas and I've even written down 'teabag.me' !!! I now however feel like I have finally hit puberty after being given a lesson about the 'real' mysteries of sex.

After the whole Teabag incident the idea of using a jazzy name was suddenly very unappealing and I had managed to scare myself enough to start looking at names suggested by my father. The names he suggested he first put to me at the beginning of this process, however I wrote them all off as boring and reflective of my father's age! After coming close to confusing people that my business was in fact a porn site or something of a similar nature these 'boring' names suddenly became a lot more plausible.

After another month of searching and not really coming up with anything better (I even considered BAD MAN - for British Apparel Design and MANufacture) I finally crumbled and agreed to the unexciting but very practical name of Connect Apparel. This did however grow on me as it is a name that says exactly what's on the tin!

Surprise, surprise though, nothing is ever simple and through all the stress and tears both my dad and I had to face the horrible fact that Connect Apparel was never going to work. Frustratingly there is no business called Connect Apparel however the websites have been taken and the first five pages of Google are taken up by a company called Connected Apparel, so realistically Connect Apparel was going to cause me more problems than it was worth.

At this point I felt like banging my head against a brick wall as I found myself in exactly the same situation as I was 6 months earlier with no idea for a name.

It is then that a good friend of mine came to the rescue and offered to help me out. James Huyton is a branding man who I have previously worked with and mentioned in an earlier blog. I owe James a lot of favours as he has spent several weeks now branding my business. Also, exactly a week ago James very patiently sat down with me for the whole day and we made it our mission to decide on a name for the business...

Map-parel
Interparel
Manuparel
Jungener (latin for 'to join')
Refacture
Fused Apparel
Compass Creative
Compass Connect
Apparel Connection
Together Apparel
Reel Connections
Reel Apparel
Reel Solutions
Reel Designs
Reel Sourcing
Reel Mapping
Bridging Reels
Bridge Connections
Bridge Apparel
Reel Development
Sew Reel
Sourcing Reel
Bridge Solutions
Draw Connections
Draw Apparel
Reel Pick Apparel
Reel Network
Drawbridge Apparel
Pick Solutions
Four Quarters
The Network
The Reel Network
The Reel Map
Mapping Connections
Sourcing Reel Network
Reel Apparel Network
Apparel Fusion
Connect Apparel Network (CAN)
Connect Apparel Manufacturing (CAM)
Mapped Apparel
Mapping Apparel

We then started looking at rock climbing and the support systems that are in place to help climbers:

Belay Apparel
Palomar
Bowline
Hitch
Prusik
Carabiner

We drifted off from this...

Needle in a Haystack
Bundle

Time for a break and a game of shithead. I promise you this is a card game and not another sexual act... I hope not anyway! It was now 4pm and my boyfriends suggestion of 'Button's and Shit' was suddenly becoming very appealing! Unbeknown to him though this did change our thought pattern to looking at using two words with an 'and'.

Stitch and Loop
Connect and Network
Stitch and Bundle
Bundle and Compass
Bundle and Jump
Bridge and Compass
Stitch and Bridge

We'd now had enough, James and I were both going insane from thinking all day long so we put to the public vote (facebook) our favourite suggestions and waited for the response. The choices were:

Stitch and Bundle
Stitch and Bridge
Connect Apparel Network
Connect Apparel Manufacture

By the morning Stitch and Bridge was in the lead, just, and James gave me the deadline of that evening to finally decide on a name. We ended up discussing it throughout the day and although we liked Stitch and Bridge we then found out that years ago old grannies used to get together to knit and gossip. This got nicknamed 'Stitch and Bitch' - obviously we don't want any confusion about the name so by the end of the evening the decision had been made.

May I introduce to you my business:

Hold tight for all of James' branding and soon, very soon I will have a finished logo and fully branded and fully functioning business!! It is very exciting and I can not thank James enough for all his help!!

BIG LOVE
cycles and spoons

Sickness and Rollerblades

So for those people who know me well, getting injured is something of a daily occurrence in my life. Take yesterday for example... I walked in to the walk-in fridge at work (The Crown and Sandy's in Ombersley where I've worked full time and part time over the last few years) and smashed my ankle against the corner of a metal dish with the result of a slight limp, pulsing pain, swelling and purple and yellow bruising. After swearing outrageously and several minutes of heavy breathing I continued working, now feeling extremely sorry for myself, but thankful that I have a high pain threshold and that I'm not a complete tearful mess!

Now if this was all that happened to me in my life then I would have very little to complain about and I would probably be arranging to climb Kilimanjaro this summer! Unfortunately though I seem prone to injury which all began from the age of around 5 years old when I was learning to ride a bike, put the brakes on and did a front flip over the handle bars and face planted the ground.

Unfortunately I grew up with an older brother who used to find enjoyment out of telling me I was the 'unwanted child' or that I had been adopted. He would also tell me to do things which when I was too young to know the difference from right and wrong.. I would do them, and Chris would miraculously disappear and I would be left getting an earful from my mum whilst I cried my eyes out, confused about why Chris had told me to do something I shouldn't.

Anyway as I got older I also thought I was getting a little wiser. After having a fight with Chris resulting in him pushing me on to the floor and stubbing my thumb - I saw this as a golden opportunity to exaggerate my injury with the hope of making him feel terrible! This was my first 'accident' trip to the hospital where I came away with a metal splint around my thumb. Proud of my trophy war wound I was intent on making Chris feel guilty for as long as possible and I had no problems showing it off to everyone at school letting them know what a mean and horrible brother I had.

It is only now through writing this that I realise that perhaps all of my actual injuries since this time are karma for exaggerating my thumb injury... :-/ woops!

Knees and Chin
This is where the injuries began. At the age of about 7 I decided it would be a good idea to show off on my rollerblades in front of a boy I fancied by holding on to the back of a truck whilst it drove around the compound I lived on in Saudi Arabia. (I never told my parent's this part of the story as I realise it was a very stupid thing to do and didn't need them to also tell me so... now I just have to pray they never read this blog!!) Unfortunately the compound was also covered in speed bumps which I hadn't considered when first grabbing on to the truck, so travelling at around 15 mph I hit this speed bump, shot up in the air and came crashing back down - still attempting to hold on, I was now being dragged behind the back of the truck with the skin being taken completely off my knees. Realising I had no option now but to let go completely, I did... and my face ploughed the ground. The boy I fancied now came running over to me lying in the middle of the road, looking extremely helpless and asked if I was ok. I jumped up, brushed off my knees, smiled and said I was fine. With blood now pouring down my legs I made my excuses and hobbled home. Once the boy was out of sight I burst into tears and couldn't believe I'd destroyed my knees. Back at home it was then clear that my knees were the least of my worries as my chin had been split open and hospital trip number 2 was on the cards so that I could be stitched back together again.

my 30 second sketch of the incident!

Wrist
This is probably the most gruesome of stories to tell. This was about 2 years later  - we had left Jeddah and were now living on the other side of Saudi in a city called Dammam. A friend and I had been planning for me to go and stay at her house for several weeks so when the day finally came we were both extremely excited and desperate to have a lot of fun. We got back to Albha's house once school had finished and decided to go rollerblading. As you may have gathered by now this was my all time favourite hobby. So off we went... and we discovered a half pipe. Now when I was younger I definitely had the mentality that I could do anything and no harm would come to me... boy did that half pipe prove me wrong! I remember being on top of it and building up the courage to go down it.. then the next thing I remember was my face being pushed into the cold concrete floor, a very blurry vision and the distant cry of Albha in the background shouting 'help, my friend is dead, help!'

The impact had knocked me out and as I came round my first instinct was to stand up - after all I needed to let my friend know that I wasn't in fact dead, or I at least hoped I wasn't. As I went to stand up I put my arms out in front of me to push myself up. As I did this, the pain that went through my arm was like nothing I had experienced before and it is literally impossible to capture in words. Looking down at my wrist I could see my bone sticking out through the skin.

Before I knew it there was a woman running towards me down the street. I told her I was fine but that I'd broken my wrist. She asked if I was sure.. 'definitely' I said. As she got nearer she went from questioning whether my wrist was broken to arranging for me to get to hospital. Remember in Saudi women can't drive and this was at a time when all the men were still at work so there were a lot of women running around the compound desperately trying to find a man who could drive me. By this point I was lying on a sofa with blood soaked tea towels wrapped around my arm.

Eventually a man was found and rather than sending me straight to hospital everyone seemed to think it was a great idea to send me home first?! Now it is probably worth mentioning those speed bumps on the compound which came back to haunt me on this day. Going over speed bumps with a broken wrist is one of the most excruciating pains I have ever experienced in my life as my bones moved around and protruded further and further out of my skin. So finally I'm handed over to my dad - and up until this point I had been a brave little girl - more concerned about my mate worrying I was dead than the fact that I had broken my arm... but as soon as I saw my dad the tears started flowing! And the first thing he said to me was 'are you sure it is broken?' Again it only took me to lift up the now dripping with blood tea towel to reveal the bone hanging out my wrist for us to suddenly be half way towards the hospital.

I think it is only possible that the Arabs would decide it would be a great idea to have to climb up 50 steps to reach the entrance to the hospital - so imagine my dad carrying me, running up these steps in 35 degrees heat, having not eaten or drunk, coming straight from football practice and already feeling light-headed from the sight of my mangled hand.

The doctors realised straight away that my arm was bad so I was sent straight to the x-ray room and shoved with a Philippino nurse who I have no doubt never actually received a nursing qualification. My arm was placed on the x-ray table - it was clearly out of line, it had grown a few inches, there was blood everywhere and it soon became clear that the only thing holding my hand to my arm was skin and fat. With all this in mind the Philippino nurse walked up to my arm, picked up my hand and plonked it on its side. The result being I screamed the whole hospital down as my hand moved and the rest of my arm stayed in exactly the same position. She tutted to herself, pushed my hand back down, grabbed my arm and plonked that on its side. By this point not only had I hit the roof but my dad had too. She had twisted my arm on its side and obviously this time my hand had stayed flat on the table. The concept that my wrist was completely broken with nothing holding my hand to my arm seemed to completely pass this nurse by. In the end it took several people to get my arm and hand on its side, my dad had fainted and my mum was running up and down the corridors in despair that two of her loved ones were in trouble and chris was sat helplessly on a chair with no clue what to do!

It took an operation and 2 metal pins holding my bones together to fix my arm as well as a cast which I had on for 10 weeks. After this I had to have the wires pulled out of my arm under local general anaesthetic by a trainee doctor which my parents promised wouldn't hurt. I can assure you however that this experience was more painful than actually breaking my wrist but this is another story all together that I will not bore you with.

Knuckles
Once back in the UK and probably around 14 years old I once again found myself on rollerblades playing street hockey. A friend behind me 'accidentally' tripped me up and i went flying. Another friend then accidentally (i hope) rollerbladed over my fingers with the result of my knuckles being bare to the world as all the skin had been ripped off. Barely able to move my fingers I went in to my house where my mum looked at my hand and straight away suggested another trip to hospital. However, after my last experience I put my foot down and refused point blank. There was no way I was going back to a hospital. So mum spent the next hour bathing my hand, tweezing out all the grit and bandaged it all up for me. The next few days were extremely painful.

Not long after this final event the rollerblades went into a drawer in the garage, where I imagine they still are today, covered in cobwebs, dreaming of the days they saw sunlight. Here ends the injuries related to rollerblades and rather than ending my injuries all together they have continued but through other means...

To be continued...