In praise of the humble jigsaw puzzle

My name is Laura and I am an addict. Not of booze, or drugs, or the usual vices, but of jigsaw puzzles. For those of you now picturing me as a greying 80 year old with eight pet cats and a penchant for lavender, I should make one thing clear - I am a young whippersnapper of 24.  But I do like a good jigsaw puzzle.

Bear with me here -- two years ago, if I'd been telling you that colouring books were the way to go, you'd probably have been cynical, but look how the adult colouring book industry has taken off in the past few months. I have dabbled in adult colouring books myself, but the disappointment at realising my staying-in-the-lines skills were still as limited as they were 15 years ago somewhat dampened that brief encounter.

My jigsaw puzzle addiction is a recent addition to my life -- a few days before Christmas, I came across a puzzle that I received for my birthday seven months ago. The giver obviously knew me well, as it was a picture of a zoo, yet I'd not even touched it. Within minutes of shaking all the pieces out of the box, I was hooked, right down to the 1000th piece.

There's something therapeutic about the act of completing a jigsaw. Yes, it's frustrating at times, but when the pieces all come together, or when you find that one piece that you've been after for ages, it's strangely rewarding. Put on the tellybob in the background or blast out some music while you're puzzling over the pieces, or sit quietly and have a good old think -- either way, there's a sense of achievement when you put that final piece into place. 

Move over colouring books, here come jigsaw puzzles -- you heard it here first.