Sewing.
Some of the domestic arts.
This is something for which I do not have much of a natural talent, and my mother - bless her - never insisted that I master it ("science is more important and more interesting than sewing", she had said, for she loved science, admired Darwin and Copernicus, and had raged that her traditional father - backed by an even more traditional sister - had thought that the study of the natural sciences was neither interesting nor relevant for a youngest daughter).
However, she did insist that I master the skill (not as simple as you think) of sewing on buttons. "This has nothing to with female subjugation and everything to do with basic, practical, necessity, and it is something that is very valuable to know how to do," she observed, her voice echoing in my mind this morning.
And she taught me well.
It is years since I have had to sew anything (when she was with us, the carer always did such things long before it ever crossed my mind that they needed to be done), but this morning, the memory of my mother's instructions ringing in my mind, I did a spot of remedial sewing, following the precise sequence of steps my mother had demonstrated to me many (well, a few) decades ago.
Now, the completed work is not a thing of threaded beauty; but, it is fully functional, and, for that, I have my mother to thank.