Husbanding

why broken is beautiful

I have a strange habit of becoming irrationally attached to broken things. Not precious objects but practical ones, kitchen implements mostly, but it happens with other things too. A toothless comb, a wonky-handled garden spade. An external keyboard with the letter “j” worn out.

For almost two years now there’s been a spider’s web crack on the screen of my mobile phone. I remember precisely how and where it happened: On a hike up to Llyn y Fan Fach in Wales (above), one of my favourite places on earth. That day, it looked nothing like the photo. The weather was so dismal, visibility so poor, it looked like nothing at all. I was in a suitably dark mood, trying to work out some complication in the book.

I’d driven out to the Brecon Beacons with my friend Fiona who was training for one of her bananas ultra-marathons, which unbeknownst to her at the time would be cancelled due to Covid. After parking in the boggy lot I set off ahead, not bothering to wait as she changed into her high tech running gear since I knew she’d loop me several times on the path anyway. I noticed my phone kept buzzing but I ignored it — I dislike being interrupted when I’m ruminating — so I strode grimly on, up the sleet-swept mountain feeling like an indignant Victorian heroine in waterproofs. Had I not had my earbuds in I would have heard the car alarm. Finally a couple of hikers ran up behind me hollering — it turned out I’d locked Fiona in the car. I felt terrible.

This is what happens when you get all wrapped up in your own petty problems, I remember chiding myself. You lock your poor friend in the car before setting off on a four hour hike!

As I ran down to rescue her and on the way I dropped my phone. So the crack reminds me of that. The lesson I mean. And also the beauty of Llyn y Fan Fach.

I damage have insurance, by the way. I could upgrade anytime I want — but I don’t. Instead I place sellotape over top to prevent my fingertip from getting cut. It still gets cut, but I don’t mind.

My point here is that when things wear out or defect, my first impulse is to husband them. As a verb, “husband” means “to use economically.”