I was in Limerick singing at a wedding, and afterwards I stayed overnight with my uncle and his family.

Some time after two in the morning, as I was about to step – or let’s be honest, lurch (wedding, remember?) – into my (absent!) cousin’s bed, I realised something disastrous: I hadn’t done my daily stitch (which is part of the promise I’m keeping). And I hadn’t brought anything stitchy with me from home.

Dun-dun-dunnnnnnn!

What could I do?

At stake was my unbroken streak – hundreds upon hundreds of days doing my Tiny Things faithfully, without fail. And now I was facing the prospect of breaking that streak, all because I’d forgotten to stick my stupid knitting in my stupid bag.

Consternation! Uproar! Waily waily waily!

I was sleeping in my cousin’s room, as I’ve said. I looked around.

Astonishingly, he appeared to be more into football and journalism than textiles (I know, right?), so there was nary a workbox nor a bit of unfinished cross-stitch lying around.

(Dear coz, if you’re reading this: I didn’t rummage, OK? I just had a quick look.)

If I had even a crochet hook and a bit of yarn, I could fulfil the requirement. I had neither.

But wait!

Wait just a minute!

Textiles are everywhere!

They are (and I’m proud of this one, so brace yourself) woven into the very fabric of our existence (warned you). Spinning – the twisting of fibres to make a continuous string – is without a doubt one of the foundational technologies of human civilisation.

I might not have yarn, but I had cord. Power cord, to be precise. My phone charger.

And I might not have a crochet hook, but what is a crochet hook but a tool to simplify and diversify an already existing concept: that of looping yarn to make a chain.

So as the music swelled to an heroic crescendo that would bring a tear to the coldest eye, I took my phone charger and used my index finger to made a crochet chain. Stitch of the day: done. Bam!

In fact, several stitches. Bonus!

Then I ripped it out so I could read my phone in bed. There’s nothing in the rules that says the stitch has to stay in, after all.

(Just ask Penelope.)

(That is a reference to Homer’s Odyssey, because I am down with the kids.)

And the moral of that is…

I’m telling you this because in this stressful and uncertain time, you might need to hear that when I say “do what you’ve promised every day”, I really do mean every day.

Even when you can’t.

You have total permission to adapt so that it works.

Do it your way. Do it a new way. Do it a silly way that can’t possibly be allowed to count. And then count it.

Because it’s yours, you know?

It’s all yours.