Fabulous Forty-Nine!

Farewell to the Forties!!

2010-08-29T13:54:00.000-07:00

Hi again.
This is going to be my last post on this blog, for obvious reasons!

Tomorrow I turn 50! I feel ridiculously excited about it. I've just been on a fantastic holiday with my daughters and a friend. We spent a week in Keswick in the Lake District, which is one of my favourite places in the whole world.

Tomorrow evening I'm having a 'Glamour and Glitz' party at the local bar where I used to perform my poetry. It promises to be a great evening, an eclectic mix of friends and family. It hasn't been easy, making friends in the last few years. I spent my time working/nursing a sick child. I didn't have time, energy or opportunity to meet people - but finally I seem to have grown a group around me. I know some lovely, creative, quirky people here, and I love and appreciate them very much.

So! New decade, new blog. I'll be launching it soon, then I shall add the address to this post. See you there!

http://myfantasticfifties.blogspot.com/

The Final Push...

2010-08-05T14:24:00.001-07:00

Yes, it's finally here! August, that is. I'm able to walk without crutches, swim over twenty lengths, and I've left my job!!!

I'm sorry for the lack of blogs lately. There has been so much going on that I have been distracted, but one of my New Year's Resolutions (I make them on birthdays, seems eminently more sensible!) is to blog at least every other day. Every day may be optimistic, given that I am hoping to be Supply Teaching, which I know of old is pretty exhausting. On the other hand, I shall quickly have a fund of entertaining stories. I can't wait!

I left my job last month in a blaze of indifference. My boss never quite got round to writing my reference (well she said it had been posted and emailed, but several weeks on it hadn't arrived in either form, so I drew my own conclusions, which I accept may be wrong, but it doesn't seem likely).

The Farewell Fuddle (for two of us) was a masterpiece of English Embarrasment at its best. Apparently I shall be remembered for a training event I helped to run 6 years ago ("which was a disaster, but Speranza stuck to the script and kept us going") and for "unfortunately being off sick for a long time." Ah well, I've learnt my lesson. This is the first job I've ever done for longer than a year (apart from Motherhood, which continues as a lifelong, long-distance blessing!) Nine years was obviously just Too Long. Alas, no mention of the many children I've actually managed to help. Still, I know who they are...

My line manager stepped in and wrote my reference, bless her, thus continuing her wonderful work of enabling me to carry on (or in this instance, to leave). As she is an artist, I gave her some painting-related gifts when I left, and wrote her a poem. I thought you might like to see it...

For -----

You work with an artist’s eye

for the potential of white spaces,

content to leave them be for now

and see what comes.

There is always room

for creativity.

I wonder if you see

How much you bring to people’s lives?

You patiently explain

systems and protocols

until they take on meaning.

This is Art.

Your explanations

are gems of clarity in chaos.

Tiny masterpieces, they

hang in my mind in golden frames.

You washed me with confidence;

gently painted until

your light touch

brought fresh colour to my work.

You daily show

an artist’s patience

with the people on your team -

and that makes all the difference.

This is it!

2010-05-25T00:19:00.000-07:00

Well - here goes!! Months of solitary meditation have finally given me the courage to do what I've been fantasising about for a few years now.

I'm sending in my resignation today. I've spoken to my line manager - who was very supportive and excited for me - but today I write and post the letter. WooHOOO!!

It is really strange how this 'timing' thing works. My daughters, who have seen me longing to leave work for ages, once threatened to resign for me if I didn't. "Don't go back in September!" they pleaded, at least a couple of years ago.

I had to explain to them that the time just wasn't right. I don't particularly know why it wasn't. I just knew it wasn't. And over the months (which became years) I got more and more frustrated with myself, and then began to feel scared that I had lost my nerve.

After all, a large part of what I do for other people is give them the courage to go for their dreams. I am a great believer in it. Why couldn't I do it myself? I inwardly blamed myself for getting stuck in the very trap I had always wanted to avoid - being too highly paid to leave somewhere. All the jobs which interest me would mean a salary drop of at least ten or fifteen thousand pounds - in fact many of them are voluntary.

No matter how many times I reminded myself that I have had ample empirical experience of the Universe Providing, I just couldn't do it.

My enforced time out, often in a lot of pain (no, make that excruciating pain) has given me time to think about many things. One of them was just how much I really wanted to leave my job. No one particular reason, I think I've just got very close to burning out in what amounts at times to being a Social Worker but with no power to change anything (I know they have little enough themselves).

I also had time to sort myself out a bit spiritually. I've been reading a lot and meditating and it began to dawn on me that those people I've always admired - the ones whose stories appear in magazines under titles like, 'I MADE A NEW START AT SIXTY!' or 'LOSING ALL MY LIMBS DIDN'T STOP ME CLIMBING K2!' all began somewhere. They all had the same feeling I did, and the only difference was that they had acted on it.

This wasn't a new thought - indeed, I had encouraged my daughters to try living abroad quoting those very articles. So why couldn't I live my own dream?

I realised that a lot of my dreams had got lost along the way. Sad - but not in fact my immediate problem.

I took time to think about what was keeping me in a job which was feeling like more and more of an uncomfortable fit. Instead of going through all the ways it used my talents, I allowed myself to sit (I had plenty of time for that) and feel how very wrong it felt inside. In fact I began to dread going back.

As I meditated, I began to see an old-fashioned set of scales, and I realised NOTHING outweighed my need to leave. As I've told many people, nothing is more important than your mental health. I did a few sums and saw that I was not in the financial trap I had allowed myself to imagine.

When I spoke to my line manager, she was incredibly supportive and excited for me. "I wish more people would have your courage," she told me. "Too many people get stuck for life and daren't move on."

My point exactly! And I heard myself say, "If I can get through the devastating pain of the last few months, there isn't anything I can't do."

And finally, I believed it.

So - today I am jumping. I have always known in my heart that I would never have the option of knowing what came next, that I had to create a cognitive dissonance of sorts before the next move became clear. But I know there IS a job out there. As I have told many people, you don't always have the luxury of seeing the path ahead, but when you look back, it always leads right to where you are today.

Having the courage of one's convictions feels a lot better than fearing the future!

Getting there...

2010-05-16T09:04:00.000-07:00

I had quite an eventful week... I saw a specialist (not 'The' specialist, as in, 'The specialist who operated on me'). He was charming and jolly, told me I have osteoarthritis in my knee, and said I 'can have a new knee sometime - but God knows when that will be!'

I remarked that it was ironic that I'd injured my knee whilst trying to lose weight to protect it. He said, "Oh you don't need to lose weight!" (I do - about 40 pounds I reckon!) but later admitted that the pain will be better the slimmer I am. So - here I am again, back at the gym. A new gym this time, with a pool and a Personal Trainer who seems reassuringly knowledgeable about her work.

That word 'osteoarthritis' was a real shock to the system. I came out of his office feeling fine, and then had a delayed reaction as I walked through the hospital, feeling tearful and wondering if I was doomed to be a cripple.

However I'm not one to dwell on negatives. I am really proud of how I have coped with a really difficult year, and I'm sure it isn't unconnected to my determination to hit Fifty running! Well, I shan't quite be doing that - unfortunately my two favourite gym activities (running and rowing) are off the menu now, but I shall just have to find something else I love! I do feel a little sad because I know that exercise and fitness is a long-term thing, and I thought I had started in good time, two years before my fiftieth. I've told my PT (Jade) that she might have to boost my morale a little and help me be excited about what I DO achieve by my birthday - but it's still over 3 months away and I'm sure I shall see quite a difference.

I saw the doctor, who has signed me off until May 27th - so I shall be going back into work for the last day of term. I can do that! My BIGGEST news (the thing I couldn't talk about earlier in the year) is that I have decided to leave my job and see what comes to fill the cognitive gap... It's a calculated risk - Plan A is to do Supply teaching - but I am thrilled because I have been getting frustrated with myself; I've been wanting to leave this job for over three years, and I've never quite plucked up the courage before.

It's finally occurred to me that after the last few months, I can probably cope with pretty much anything. I am so good at encouraging other people to follow their dreams, to go for it (whatever 'it' is) - and it's been strange to see myself unable to do that. I felt there was some reason, that the timing wasn't right... but deep down I feared I'd lost my nerve and would never be able to leave.

And suddenly - the moment was there, gleaming in front of me like a polished gem, and I seized it.

I resign at the end of this month (my line manager was very supportive) and my contract ends on the 31st August - the day after my fiftieth birthday.

Exciting times!!

Birthday Girl!!

2010-05-11T15:38:00.000-07:00

This was very remiss of me. Sophie Cat was 15 on the 8th of May. As I'm a single middle-aged woman, she is obviously a very important part of my cliched life! (Can't do accents, sorry!) She is such a character and has rather taken over my Facebook page these last few months, when I've been confined to the house and had very little else to write about and take pictures of!

Sophie has always had a healing ministry and has taken great care of my knee. This week she suddenly got up from where she was lying on the sofa and got into a very strange position with her front paws gently on my knee. The look on her face was one of prayer (you don't have to agree, but it really was!)

This amused me...

2010-05-11T02:02:00.000-07:00

The other day I was in WHSmiths and I kept hearing this weird, high-pitched little voice go '"TCHOOOOOO!"

And I realised it was a woman about my age who was doing the first part of a sneeze (the spluttery part) and then waiting two seconds and then SAYING, "TCHOOOO!" as though she had been taught how to sneeze.

The third time she did it I began to laugh - it was somewhere round the back of a huge bookcase and was coming at me from random angles - and the fourth time I started to guffaw....

And then realised I was next to her husband. Who was obviously very embarrassed.

We all left quite hurriedly. But it was one of the funniest things I've ever heard!

Dancing the Political Limbo Dance

2010-05-11T01:47:00.000-07:00

So - here we are, still waiting! Serves us right for having our Election under a retrograde Mercury, perhaps... Fascinating stuff, the first election I have ever stayed up all night for (usually I drift to sleep around 2am). Even the cat seemed to be taking an interest.

I think Nick Clegg is playing a very clever game here - I hope out of reasoned honesty, but who knows with politicians? He has been seen to Do The Right Thing and if talks with the Tories come to nothing, nobody can accuse him of not trying (although they will, obviously, this being politics). And he is now talking to Labour, so anxious supporters can't say he wouldn't talk to them... I fear despite the heightened similarities between policies, there is much UnCommon ground. Milliband scares me, and I can only imagine the tabloids if we ended up with a Prime Minister called Balls...

It is very interesting to watch the younger people I know and realise how much I am NOT an idealist these days. There is a clear online split between those who remember the LibLab pact in 1974, and those who don't. Personally I feel more anxious about the current Labour party than I do about the Tories, though I accept this may be misguided.

My concern about Cameron has ALWAYS been that I wonder if he is truly naive enough to believe that he could carry the whole party forwards. There is a reason we use the word 'conservative' to mean people who prefer the old ways, after all.

I am fascinated to see Clegg and Cameron apparently morphing into the same person (with a touch of Blair and Paul Merton thrown in on Clegg's side). If they do work together, they could superimpose the images and save on posters.

So - watch this space. Part of me wonders if at some austerely-set breakfast table, Prince Phillip is urging the Queen on: "Come on Lizzie, it's the only thing you haven't done and you may not have long left - call a ruddy Election! You know you want to!"

Time will tell.

Meanwhile, I go to see the surgeon today to hear exactly what happened when he looked inside my knee - and hopefully to find out when I will be able to go upstairs without grunting like a geriatric female tennis player serving an ace.

Plus ca change...

2010-04-30T00:30:00.000-07:00

"...and when he got in his car, he called her a BIGOT!" The woman's face was incredulous.
"No," her friend replied, ""he said she wor BIGOTED."
"Same difference i'ntit? Whatever. He shouldn't have said it."
The bus changed gear to turn left into Pankhurst Street. There was a squeal from the little girl across the aisle - her mother gripping her arm just a little too tightly as the bus swung round. I caught her eye and flinched at the pain I saw; the stoicism in that little face was far too practised for someone so young.
"SHURRup, Emily, or you'll not be getting any tea," the woman said roughly.

A protest rose to my lips but died instantly as her mother glared defiantly at me with an air of savage challenge. The two friends behind me were still talking politics.
"Did you see the debate last night?"
"No - I'm not interested. They're all liars. They don't care what happens to the country as long as they can line their pockets at the tax-payers' expense. I don't vote for ANY bugger, I don't."
"What - yer never vote?"
"No I bloody don't, Jackie. Why should I waste five minutes of me life when nothing's ever going to change?"

There was another squeal from the little girl. I glanced across, avoiding her mother's gaze, and our eyes briefly met again. Her face was contorted into an expression of mute distress. Was I imagining it, or was that a fading bruise on her cheek?

"But I always think we SHOULD vote, Sandra - I mean... women DIED so we could vote. I teck it very seriously, I do."
"Bully fer you! I just don't trust ANY of 'em. Look at what THIS lot have done. Bled the country dry! Taxes, VAT, benefits cuts... do they think we're bloody stupid, or summat?"

"Emily! STOP it, yer little sod." The words were harsh. I couldn't see what the little girl was supposed to have done, but her misery was tangible. I squirmed in my seat, cold fingers of unease gripping my chest, but unwilling to speak in case I made things worse. And anyway, what could I possibly say? I felt powerless to extricate this little girl from the grip of a malevolent authority.

The bus reached the end of Pankhurst Street and pulled into the terminus. The remaining passengers stood up and slowly filed to the door. Emily and her mother were just ahead of me; the woman pushed her impatiently towards the exit and the child tripped and fell heavily onto the pavement. It must have really hurt - blood was seeping from her knees - but she made no sound, even when she got a clip round the ear 'for being bloody clumsy'.

Sandra and Jackie were still arguing about whether it was worth voting. My eyes were still on the sad little figure going home to God-knew-what.
"The point is, Jackie, nothing's ever going ter change."

I was afraid she was right.

The woman with the drip on her nose.

2010-04-28T07:10:00.000-07:00

I still can't drive after my surgery. So when I had to go to town to post off my novel to an agent, I caught the bus.

I've always loved buses. When I was tiny my Mum and I sometimes used to take the bus on a Friday to see a friend of hers. It was a trolley bus - and all these years later, I still remember the excited hum as we rattled along the roads.

When we lived in France I usually drove, but sometimes I would take the bus to Antibes, marvelling at the scenery as it wound through the beautiful little villages on its way to the coast.

Yesterday I spent the obligatory half hour in the Post Office, felt an excited little skip of my heart as my precious parcel disappeared behind the counter, had a delicious lunch in the Veggie cafe, and set off for home.

There were a lot of people waiting at the stop. I was glad that I had remembered to get there before rush hour. To our dismay, a totally empty bus pulled in and left again without picking any passengers up. I witnessed a heartening little exchange between a middle-aged woman at the stop and a young couple who walked past, which went something like this:
Young man: "Ey! Sithee our mother! Yer reet?"
Woman: (grinning) "Aye! Ah wor reet an' all before you showed up, yer bugger!"

I love Derbyshire!

Eventually another bus arrived and we piled in - and by now it was a crush of people pushing rather anxiously to get home and start their evening. An old lady sat next to me. She had a distant, vague expression on her face so I didn't intrude by speaking to her, as I very often do. (Random conversations with strangers are one of my great joys in life). I noticed her beautifully-coiffed hair - almost remarked on it (I like to give compliments) but thought better of it as she looked frail and I didn't want to frighten her by forcing well-intentioned conversation on her.

The bus pulled away and as we drove along the passengers were still trying to settle, gently swarming up and down like bees on a hive. I glanced at the woman next to me and saw that she had a drip on the end of her nose - a drip as perfectly formed as a crystal ball. Part of me was disgusted (I have had an 'issue' with nasal discharge since my first day at school - the only thing I remember was Alan Wilcox's nose running into his milk as he drank it), and part of me was fascinated. I could see another woman passenger glancing surreptitiously from time to time; we were both, I'm sure, waiting for the moment when the drip would fall from her nose and land on her hand. It occurred to me that she might sneeze it off, as my cat sometimes does, and that she might well be facing in my direction when that happened. I edged towards the window.

Now I heard a humming sound. I don't know whether it was the old lady or a phone somewhere behind us, but in my mind she began to take on a more sinister persona, the Mad SnotWoman of Chesterfield, who sits on buses waiting - just waiting - for the drip on her nose to be fully ripe before breaking into loud singing, jumping to her feet and shaking her head, spattering liquid bogeys to the winds.

I could feel that my whole body had tensed up. Did she know about the drip, I wondered, which was still hanging, defying gravity, larger by the second and yet tenaciously clinging to the end of that ancient nose. Could she perhaps not FEEL it? I felt helpless - it isn't done to wipe a stranger's nose, after all... and then - she was only a mad old woman, probably she didn't mind...

My fellow passenger was watching more openly now, as amazed as I was that still the drip was growing larger. I suddenly felt as though I was in some black and white short, as though we were in some Brechtian silent movie.

And then...

...she patted her pocket furtively. And fruitlessly. This changed everything.

She knew. She was no longer some batty old woman with no awareness of her bodily functions. In my mind she shrank back from sinister ogre to elderly, probably lonely, woman who knew that her last shred of dignity would disappear with the drip.

What am I thinking??? Suddenly I felt ashamed for giving those thoughts headspace. I had been thinking how she reminded me of my mother, that vague, unseeing face... and how Mum once escaped from her care home and went on an impromptu (and unpaid-for) bus ride to a town about ten miles away.

There was a brief window, a moment when I could intervene before she forgot what she had been looking for, and I seized it.

Fumbling in my bag, I found a tissue - I'd used it to catch a hay fever sneeze, but on balance I knew I would rather have had that than the miraculous Drip. I spoke to her for the first time.
"Would you like a tissue?"
She started, suddenly focusing on me with eyes which seemed perfectly sane. I repeated my offer.
"Oh! Thank you! Thank you so much..!" She was all smiles and relief, and attacked the drip with relish, folding the tissue again and again over her humiliation. I murmured how annoying, how you never have a tissue that one time you need one... she gladly agreed.

And then we talked. We spoke of politics, the weather, foreign places we had both visited... This was an educated woman, my neighbour on the bus.

She got off before me. I saw her shoes for the first time. They were faux-crocodile, in shimmering, metallic pastel shades which exactly matched the colours running through her skirt. This was a woman with style. A woman who cared about her image. A woman whom I had left to sit with a drip on her nose because I thought she didn't care.

Big Fish!

2010-04-23T00:49:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to share this picture - it was one of the strangest sights I've ever seen. I don't think the Canada Goose was too keen... and there was only ONE duckling on the entire, huge lake... :(

Leg ahoy!

2010-04-13T07:25:00.000-07:00

Well - I'm back home after the surgery - I went in at 7.30 yesterday and my sister collected me at 3.30 (she came at 2.15 but I was very dizzy after some codeine so they kept me in for a bit longer).

I was supposed to be second on the list but as they suspected a latex allergy when they screened me last week, and the bloods hadn't come back, I was bumped up to first. I had been pretty nervous the night before but knew I'd be fine once I got there. My blood pressure was very high - not surprisingly - but the nurse reassured me I'd be fine later. I quite enjoyed the ride down to theatre - the staff were all so kind and chatty. I was wheeled into theatre at 9 on the dot, and the anaesthetist made me laugh by asking me something about golf... I talked right till I went to sleep; the last thing I said was, "I'm closing my eyes now, I'm off - hope he finds the bone!"

And then I woke up.

Although I didn't have my glasses on, the clocks were so big that I could see it was 10.10 and immediately realised I hadn't been gone too long. Apparently I was in theatre for 33 minutes (very precise!) and I knew it must have gone well to be so quick.

My nurse in Recovery had a name badge which said, "Michael Bond' and I said, "Did you write Paddington?" He smiled and said, "Yes! Not many people realise that! Most people think I'm James' brother!" O what wit and banter straight after an anaesthetic! My mouth was really really dry, and he kept bringing me little sticks to suck - I must have got through about fifteen of them, and I couldn't stop shaking. I've seen my daughter go through this which was a good thing cos I remembered that it does stop eventually! My head was remarkably clear in fact. I started crying and I asked for a tissue and said, "I know it's only the anaesthetic, but I feel really emotional!!"

When I went back to the ward, I had lots of iced water - my mouth was still terribly dry. Finally I was allowed tea, and as I drank it I thought, "oooh that's better!" but as soon as I drained the mug, my mouth was dry again. I must have had about seven mugs of tea, and they brought toast - the first bite I took was delicious for about a millisecond, and then it stuck to my palate and I couldn't budge it!

Still - they kept bringing the tea, and I even got onto Rich Tea biscuits, which were very welcome! My blood pressure was back down to normal, thank goodness.

I didn't see the surgeon but he'd left notes. Apparently he hasn't done anything to the bone - he'd written: BONE HEALED - but he has done something to the cartilage. So there must have been a tear the scan missed, I guess. I'll know when I see him in a few weeks - aparently he took photos so I hope it's interesting! Anyway I am off crutches - took them back to the other hospital today - and I can climb the stairs without groaning. I'm still on painkillers as you are advised to keep on top of the pain, but it's nothing like it was. I have lots of exercises to do and BOTH my knees click, which makes me a little nervous, but mobility is the main thing for now, so I shall keep at it! Tomorrow the nurse omces to re-dress the wound, and I'll get to see my leg (which the surgeon carefully labelled: LEFT LEG - SCOPE) in black ink, and painted with iodine during the op, so it's a bit of a sight...

So far, so good! :)

Oh! - and I DON'T have a latex allergy. Which is good news. Glad I got bumped up the list though...

The women either side of me were being questioned on admission, as you are, and it made me sad to hear that one of them had emphysema, asthma and angine - the other had asthma and a chronic cough... and they both smoked 15 - 20 a day.

WHY?? :(

And so it goes on...

2010-04-08T05:02:00.001-07:00

Hi again, sorry for the lack of posts; this is partly due to sheer exhaustion but also due to the fact that some of the major developments in my life aren't for public consumption (yet).

Anyway - I have been back at work for a few weeks - on Easter holidays at the moment - and next Monday (12th April) I have an operation to try to sort out the knee. I saw the specialist last week and he was really lovely - explained that they are trying to locate a missing bit of bone surface which sort of flaked off, taking the protective cartilage with it, which is why there's been so much pain... Either they will find it and 'tack it back on' or they won't, and will debride (smooth off) the bone and I think fill it with something, not quite sure what he said...

So next Monday my dear friend Doris will take me to hospital bright and early, and my dear sister Pam will come and collect me mid-afternoon and take me home again. And depending on what they've done, I'll be off work again for between two and eight weeks. My boss very kindly offered to send me out in a taxi but unless there was also a sherpa to carry my bags I'm not quite sure how much use that would be!

I've really enjoyed my time alone in the house - even more now I'm back at work. There definitely is a touch of the hermit in me... I have recently bought a limited edition pack of the Gaian Tarot by Joanna Powell-Colbert, and I can't say how beautiful it is. I've never read cards before but it's funny - the first time I tried, it felt as though I was playing a piece I knew really well on the piano. These are particularly beautiful cards (the old ones always made me feel as though someone was drying my soul out, somehow, so I never liked them). I am going to study and hopefully will be able to do readings for other people at some stage.

I miss my daughters a lot from time to time, but I am so proud of them - so proud I could burst, really. What a privilege to have raised such wonderful young women. I really feel as though I've done my bit to make the world a better place!

And it's Spring! Sunshine! Light nights!! :D

So - in a good place really! I hope you are too...

BACK AT WORK! :)

2010-02-24T07:49:00.000-08:00

This morning I went back to work! Not for the whole day, but still - a good part of it, for the first time since the beginning of October. I feel like a new girl again, but I'll soon be back in the swing.

I don't want to bore with details, but to cut a five-month long story short, I saw an Orthopaedic specialist on Monday, and he's going to operate to have a look inside my knee, and possibly drill and screw a bit of bone... I don't think he's sure until he looks, and still nobody can tell me what happened, how or why - perhaps I'll have a few answers soon.

Anyway - till then, I'm still on crutches (can't have Physio until after surgery) so my manager is easing me carefully back into the saddle... But it's good to be back, although I have to admit in lots of ways I didn't at all mind being at home; once the terrible pain lessened I did a lot of meditation and rested up, and people think I'm looking great!

So yet another new experience awaits me in this golden year! lol

:)

Gulf Stream

2010-02-04T07:44:00.000-08:00

Last night I watched 'Coast' - I usually forget, but this week's programme on Ireland had caught my attention and I was captivated by the landscape and history of the place.

At one point there was a diagram of the Gulf Stream, and a reminder of all the warmth and fertility it brings to Western Europe. As I thought about it, I was struck by how we each have the choice of what to make of our lives, and how we relate to other people.

My personal mission statement is: "I want to make the world a happier place." It covers just about everything - writing, chatting, listening, joking, baking, being there for people... Last night I went to sleep thinking that I'd like to be a human Gulf Stream - bringing warmth and comfort to people when I can, rather than making their lives cold and icy.

When you go through divorce, it doesn't matter where 'the fault' lies (I think it's incredibly rare for it all to be one side though) - you are faced with choices every day about whether to be as loving and gracious as possible, or whether to go for the jugular, demand what you can, get something for YOU out of it... etc. I know everyone's situation differs and I would never dream of judging somebody for how they handle their relationships, but I did try to be as amicable as possible - and I have to say, that has left me with very few regrets.

The Gulf Stream goes out of its way for us, really. It surreptitiously makes the most tremendous difference. It goes largely unnoticed and nobody thinks to thank it. And yet it serves its purpose in life. I have no idea whether a water current can feel fulfilled, but it ought to...

Not a bad model for life! :)

Just show up and watch what happens!

2010-01-26T01:28:00.000-08:00

Hi,
well - not had a lot to say really, so haven't! But just so you know, I'm still feeling enthusiastic about my year, if rather surprised at how it's turned out so far!

I'm still waiting to see the specialist about my knee - there was a brief flurry the other week, when I thought I was going back to work, but the GP said I shouldn't really go back until I'd seen the specialist. As far as I know, that's going to be in about three weeks... I'm having another chat with the GP tomorrow - my main concern is that I haven't yet had physio, and the other knee was very sore for a while (until I switched how I used the crutches to support it for a while instead). I've fallen through every gap in the system but - I can't help feeling there is some purpose to it all somehow. Anyway I can't change anything by worrying, so there's no point is there?!

Meantime I've been doing lots of reading and meditating. I grow more and more fascinated by the thought that nothing is solid - I mean, obviously it is, but it isn't, not at the molecular level. Just as I have always been stunned by the fact that all the things I do online which look so real on screen are fuelled by a series of ones and zeros, so my 'real' life is basically a load of energy pulses at various frequencies. On a sub-atomic level we are in constant motion, as are tables, plants, mountains and planets. I find that mind-blowing.

As I've read about meditation, I've been interested to come across the concept of the sound of 'Aaah' as the Sound of God. When I was a little girl, I had a phobia about this very sound - and I could never quite put into words the feeling it evoked in me. If people were chatting and I could see one of them understanding a point and getting ready to say, "Ah! I see what you mean!" I would shiver in terror, but couldn never explain properly as I couldn't say the word. I came to know it as my 'Ah!' feeling but even saying that frightened me.

I wonder now. I wonder if that feeling (as though the whole world was in my chest, spinning around out of control and so big I would explode) isn't a little akin to the feeling people in the Bible had when they were struck dumb by the presence of angels. I wasn't in a place to give it a spiritual interpretation back then, but now I wonder...

For the first time, I am living in an empty nest - my daughters now both live abroad. I was fairly sure I'd be fine, but having never lived alone before (I don't count student digs, where there is always someone around!) I didn't quite know what to expect.

The first couple of days were a little strange, a definite feeling of bereavement and emptiness - but it happened to be when the snow was at its worst and I was pretty literally stuck in the house. As I'm still using crutches and feeling quite disabled in some ways, it was a very strange time, as though Someone was saying, "Your nest is empty, and you are going to have to sit in it all week and think about it!" Which was actually quite a good tactic for me - it's how I used to deal with all my old phobias; I've always faced fear by mentally picking it up by the scruff of the neck and facing it until it holds no more fear. (My theory is that there are two types of people - the ones who react to toothache by booking the earliest appointment possible, and the ones who put off the dentist as long as they can. I'm the first kind - I see procrastinating as prolonging the worry of the inevitable!)

So - I sat in my house (feeling quite trapped, I must admit) and Faced it Out.

And I feel fine. I'm enjoying having my own space. I can be quiet when I want (which is a lot) and I can read, and I can fill the fridge with things I love to eat but wouldn't necessarily impose on my daughters. (Although I have discovered I've developed an allergy to lychees, which is really annoying - since I started with hayfever I have become allergic to some fruits and nuts, fortunately not majorly, but enough to stop me enjoying them).

I went for a walk in the park a few days ago and was suddenly overwhelmed with memories of being there with my daughter, and the time I ran a race there and she popped out of the crowd to take a photo - and I did stop for a cry, but that's okay. I've worked for many years to get in touch with my feelings; I'm not going to stop them coming up or be afraid of them. Anyway some of those tears were for my knee I think! I can't quite imagine ever running again, although I think it's highly likely I shall.

I've always had moments where my heart has been gripped by a sudden nostalgia, when I walk past an Early Learning Centre, for example, or see someone with two little girls in a cafe... in French, 'nostalgie' is 'homesickness' - and I think that's a very good description of those feelings - homesickness for the past. I suspect a lot of the Empty Nest stuff people go through is about realising just how far away that past is, a country they can't ever visit again. We are all refugees, in a way.

And yet - what about the present? The future? I can't help feeling excited about what my life will be in 6 months, 6 years from now... After all, if it's all down to bundles of energy shifting around in some incomprehensibly intelligent fashion, then there is A Purpose to my life, and all I have to do is show up every day and watch what happens!

Global Warming...???

2010-01-08T23:55:00.000-08:00

I just found yet another site linking to sceptics commenting on the climate debate. Very interesting; yet another case of, "You pays your money and you takes your choice".

Which caused me to smile to myself - for many years I have been convinced that Science is as much a matter of faith as Religion. It's all very well for someone to say, "The numbers PROVE theories about gravity/virus replication/etc." I have to have faith that the numbers prove it. I suppose the scientists' answer would be, "Ah - but theology can never be KNOWN - whereas if you were a good enough mathematician, you would understand the figures PROVE these things."

However - I'm not. The fact that the figures work if you are good enough at Maths is something I've always had to take on faith.

I suppose I was an iconoclast from an early age, what with a mother who steadfastly refused to believe in gravity. ("So why do things fall down when you drop them?" Mum: "Because they're heavy." "WHY are they heavy?" Mum: "Because they weigh a lot") It was perhaps this background that led me to be uneasy at school when, as in variably happened, the Science teachers would review our carefully-planned experiments and instruct us to put in the results we ought to have got. Nobody will ever convince me that this doesn't happen on a larger scale, especially when grants and funding are involved. You can call it a lack of trust in the scientific community, a lack of faith, if you like...

I am no longer a Christian. There came a point where my observations led me to believe that, like my schoolteachers, the results were being fixed. I still have a spirituality, though, and some of that has come from learning about science - the way we are all interconnected, the wonderful way we seem to bring about change by observing the world at sub-atomic levels, research into memory... all of which, of course, I have to take on faith.

Now - this might not have mattered very much, One woman's view of the world is perhaps not that significant. But the current crisis for Science surely has to be that the Global Warming issue is NOT about Progress versus Ignorance, it is about two sets of people with diametrically opposed views, ALL of whom can 'prove' they are right. Mathematically. Which to choose? How does the average person know which to believe?

The Global Warming bandwagon is a heavy and expensive one. It is now beyond thinking that it should be shown to be based on incorrect science. This, of course, doesn't mean that Global Warming is not happening, even though it seems more and more counter-intuitive.

I have to hold my hand up here as someone who never quite believed in the 'New Ice Age', which some of my readers may be too young to remember. Over thirty years ago, we were terrified on a regular basis by warnings of the New Ice Age. Funnily enough, I don't remember there ever being an announcement that this wasn't going to happen after all; I think the scientific community just cast the belief aside, and - like an embarrassed teenager being reminded they used to believe in Santa Claus - never really talked about it again.

Well - I have the luxury apparently not afforded to scientists of being able to say that I simply don't know what the truth is. It's a shame they have painted themselves into the corner of Infallibility - it would be so much easier all round if they were able to utter those humble words, "We don't know."

Faith and Science are not that far apart...

Happy New Year!

2010-01-04T01:24:00.000-08:00

Hi, sorry to be a little late with this, but it's All Go at my house. My younger daughter is getting ready to move abroad, a HUGE and exciting event for all of us (she was very ill for a long time and this wasn't even dreamable for years) and we threw her a surprise party - great fun when it happened but a bit of a logistical nightmare, which ended up in me (on crutches) going to a supermarket on the day to get everything that had been promised but not delivered by various people! So blogging wasn't the first thing on my mind!

Anyway - last night I had a random thought which felt blogworthy - so here it is.

I was talking to my daughters and said, "The Church should be thoroughly ashamed of itself for letting the Diet Industry steal the concept of Sin."

By which I mean this: Sin is about selfishness, hatred and destruction. It is NOT about one extra sandwich, or a Snickers bar, or wanting a hot chocolate. The greed which leads us to overeat is NOT a sin. It is a misreading of our needs, a means of comforting ourselves, or protecting ourselves, or of being a Bigger (and therefore safer) Presence in the world or - God forbid, maybe we just enjoy food - which is after all an important part of life. Sometimes we eat to stuff a Food lid on uncomfortable feelings, or because the act of eating was our only pleasant part of childhood (everyone was too busy to argue) so we recreate our own little emotional food-cocoon. There are as many reasons for overeating as there are overeaters - and it's good to gain control, I'm not saying just go ahead and be obese, but...

It is an insult to the raped, abused, murdered, pillaged, slaughtered, bereaved, disenfranchised, disinherited, deceived and despairing throughout history to allow people who get fat on the misery of the overweight to call their appetite 'SIN'.

It makes me sick to think that as well as already low self esteem, people are persuaded that they are overweight (if indeed they really are) because they need to stop sinning. Because everyone knows, deep down, that sin is serious stuff.

Hitler ordered the murder over 6,000,000 people. THAT was sin.
And yes, small things too, like allowing ourselves to habitually lie, steal, cheat... they too are sins because they don't add to the overall well-being of humankind.

So if someone eats a bit too much and lets that be associated in their mind with Hitler at some level, what is that going to do to them?

Probably make them feel so bad that they reach for another biscuit...

I feel really, REALLY strongly about this, because I see so many lovely people who are convinced they would be fine a little lighter, then perhaps a little more, then maybe skeletal... and paying good money to organisations who basically exist to make them feel bad about themselves so they can rake in the money.

FOR GOD'S SAKE! (Literally)

It is not a sin to overeat. It's not a good choice - it doesn't help you to be healthy - but it is NOT a SIN! We sin in many ways at many times, I'm sure - but eating a bar of chocolate does NOT put you in a bracket with Adolph Hitler!

Get a sense of perspective, and stop paying other people to make you feel bad about yourself!

Thanks. That's better! :)

2009-12-20T01:12:00.000-08:00

Just a quick update - I went to the physiotherapist on Thursday, and was given crutches. They're helpful for walking, but they do make me feel pretty disabled in all other ways - I can't carry things or even get in and out of a car without a great fuss! Still, it never harms to gain an understanding of other people, and I feel very lucky that (as far as I know) this is only a temporary blip in my life.

However, there was a surprise for me - the physio found the results of my scan. And although I had 'a classic meniscal tear', in fact there wasn't one in evidence. What they think they've found is a broken bone in my knee! This would explain why it 'feels like a broken leg' as I remarked to the doctor through gritted teeth and sobs a few weeks ago. To be fair to him, nothing in my history would have made him suspect that I really had broken it. It's a but of a mystery, but one that hopefully the orthopaedic specialist will solve in the New Year.

The effect on me has been to make me feel quite brave! Although rationally I know that a lot of injuries are just as, if not MORE, painful than a broken bone, I feel Brave. I was worrying that I was being a bit of a wimp instead of just getting on with it... but now I knwo I've been in legitimate pain, it somehow feels better!

I did ask if I'd done any damage by walking on it and he said no (good to keep the joint moving) BUT the crutches are to help take weight off the leg - so a bit of a mixed message there... anyway I should know more quite soon. The pain is bearable at the moment. And it may well be a matter of just waiting for it to heal anyway, so I can do that right now!

What an interesting year it's turning out to be! I don't think I could have foreseen this...

I hope all your plans for Christmas are going well , and that the snow isn't disrupting any travel plans. We have hardly had any snow, despite being in the North(ish). For once, I don't mind - crutches don't come with snowchains!

Decluttering - things and people?

2009-12-16T08:40:00.000-08:00

I was driving along today thinking, "I must update my blog!" and got home to an email from my elder daughter saying the same thing - so here I am.

The knee is still sore; I'm still off work. I was due to have 'Emergency Physio' last week but the physiotherapist had [?Swine?] flu, so that's been put back till tomorrow. Last week my knee gave an almighty CRACK! like a tree falling, and I had a few days almost free from pain. The specialist thinks I have a torn meniscus, which would be consistent with things moving around in there... anyway yesterday I had a smaller series of snaps and cracks, and today it's hurting again - although nothing like it was (I was crying with pain at every step for a few weeks). I had a scan last week and see the specialist in January, no private healthcare for me! It's bearable and has meant instead of stopping to smell the roses, as I usually do, I have had time to watch them growing as I hobble along.

It's been very interesting in terms of my avowed intent to enjoy this year - I HAVE enjoyed it so far. Not the pain, of course, but the sense of my identity not depending on being in work. I have enjoyed (possibly too much!) having the time to sit in cafes, talk to random strangers, and write notes and poetry. I have always been certain that retirement would hold no terror for me. I have a very active inner life; I'm a good friend of mine and relish my own company, as well as having the time to interact with other people.

Which is just as well, because there has been Momentous and Wonderful News this last month! My younger daughter is leaving home to work in France as an Au Pair. She goes in January. It is so exciting - for many years her health wouldn't allow her to do anything, not even paid work. Then she gradually worked her way into a 40-hour week in a shop, has just got an NVQ2 in Retail, and has a great track-record with a well-known company.

However, she has always been aware of having missed out on some of life's adventures due to her health. She had major surgery in January which has dealt with almost all the problems she had been having, and it suddenly dawned on her that now she is free to go and live life a little. She and her sister went to French school when we lived on the Cote d'Azur, and she has decided to spend some time brushing up her French. Her love of children (she's going to a family with three) made au pairing the natural option. She may well end up, as her sister did, leaving the au pairing but staying in the country - only time will tell.

As for me - well, I have never lived alone and so this is exciting for me too! I think it's high time. It's a wonderful feeling when you successfully launch the chicks from the nest. I shall miss her like crazy but I shall be in close touch via Facebook, emails etc and it's not all that far away (the family have invited me to visit, and I intend to as soon as my leg is fixed).

I regard this as another positive about this year - time to be alone with myself and meditate, pray and write. It feels good... and who knows what will happen once she's gone? I can't see the story ending with exciting adventures for my daughters, and none for me! I have been a little concerned by a few people I know saying things like, "Oooh this will be so hard for you! Will you cope alone?" I know they mean to be supportive but it has really led me to question how I come across. Do I seem that helpless? Or are they projecting? Either way, I need to think about it. Even loving friends can be toxic unintentionally. I need to decide whether to call them on it or simply let them go quietly. I don't want or need negative people around me - years ago I would have dismissed that as really harsh, but the great thing about '50' looming is that it really does make me think about the patterns I'm setting for the NEXT fifty years. I appreciate their concern but I don't appreciate them assuming I can't cope alone.

Recently I felt the urge to begin to clear out some of the larger clutter in my home. I had a disgusting old three-piece suite which was far too big for the room. That's gone, and has been replaced by something more modest. My piano had been sitting unused for a long time. I used to be a keen pianist - in fact I counted the piano as my best friend when I was a teenager(!) - but in recent years I haven't really played at all. It struck me that the piano was a reminder of the past and in some ways a symbol of my failure to keep it up. It suddenly felt like the right time to let go of it, and interestingly, I've given it to someone for whom the piano is also a symbol of her past, but in her case, a past she wants to revisit.

This is the point, for me - I'm never going to be the finished product. I'm always going to be a work in progress - and unless I let go of some things, others can't take their place. It was strange how as soon as I got rid of the piano, my daughter seemed to get some internal 'go ahead' to quit her job and go to France. I've always felt I should hold things lightly - giving the piano away was hugely symbolic for me.

So - aching leg apart - I am STILL excited about this year. It's been very different from what I was expecting, but I know in my bones that it's going to end on a really positive note.

Waiting...

2009-11-23T00:32:00.000-08:00

Hi,
Sorry to have been away a while, I'm trying to get this knee pain sorted! I ended up going back to the doctor and sitting sobbing in his office, and he was very kind and gave me some different drugs. They don't stop the pain but they do dull it for a couple of hours now and again.

I think they need to research the effect of using a stick on the language centres of the brain! I have begun to use archaic language (such as 'joshing' instead of 'teasing') in what I can only assume is some Neuro-linguistic response to using walking aids!

However - the silver lining is immense. The pain can be almost unbearable BUT! - the sense of achievment when I manage to clean the bath, or have a shower! I've always been one for stopping and smelling the roses - now I can almost watch them unfold as I hobble past!

Soon I shall be having Physio and crutches and then a scan, and then, I imagine, surgery.

So I'll be back here soon with more news!

New Glasses

2009-11-04T01:48:00.000-08:00

I got my new glasses yesterday - they're quite different from my others. After about 20 years of sticking to little gold frames, I've gone for a larger frame in fine purple metal. They look very nice. And nobody has noticed them, which I always take as a sign that they are very 'me', so that's good.

Today I was looking at jobs, and noticed an advert for 'an Impatient, Elderly Occupational Therapist'. Of course the word was actually INpatient. I like glasses with a sense of humour. My sister and I regard these mis-sightings as part of the silver lining of getting older.

I'm still struggling with pasting anything onto here, which is frustrating cos I have loads of poems ready to go! I'll keep trying. I must have missed some button somewhere.

I'm back to the doctor's this afternoon - he's going to refer me on to a specialist I think, which will be good as my knee is very painful. I should also get my blood test results, which I am hoping won't show that I have Rheumatoid Arthritis but - if I do, I can be treated. I've dreamt about it several times, which is rare for me - my dreams are usually fantastic, narrative epics in full technicolour, rather than obvious references to real life. Perhaps once I know one way or the other, it'll stop. (In my dreams I always have RA, so we'll see how accurate they are, or whether they are playing to fears).

There's a lot to be said for being slowed down. It's painful to walk, but I make sure I concentrate on what I can see as I go, rather than the pain and the speed. You notice much more -particularly other people with limps, who have emerged from all sides, reminding me of how the world seems to be poplulated entirely by pregnant women when you're pregnant yourself.

My little town is a haven for the crippled - I've noticed since I moved here that the pavements are swarming with mobility scooters (rendering pedestrians less mobile, but we all co-exist quite happily). So I feel quite at home as I hobble over the cobbles.

Meanwhile, I'm spending time reading up on the Law of Attraction. In my Christian days I would immediately have dismissed it as a load of materialistic bunkum (but then there were Christian movements such as 'Name it and Claim it!' which were just the same). However, I think the Law is what you make it. It is possible to interpret it as the Way to get Wealthy but I think if you are a little more discerning, there is some excellent, helpful stuff in there about pursuing one's own spiritual path.

I've also read Jekyll and Hyde, as part of some research for a class homework on Horror. It's a very interesting read, and although I found the style a little elderly at first, once I'd got into it I was more than ready for the excellent last chapter, in which Jekyll discusses the struggle within him. Having only seen bits of films, I had always assumed that Jekyll was Good - but the whole point (it seems to me) is that Jekyll remains human - ie a mix of good and bad - and THAT is what allows Hyde to conquer, because the evil in Jekyll identifies with Hyde and therefore makes him stronger - he draws from both sides of the personality whereas Jekyll's goodness is ever-diminishing. It's a powerful comment on all the bad habits we allow to grow, I think.

Where'd the month go?!

2009-10-30T08:41:00.000-07:00

That's a reference to the wonderful Michael McIntyre, whose show I saw the other week. He did a whole set about how people can never believe it's October. ("It was just AUGUST! What happened to SEPTEMBER?!")

But it's true. I've let the time fly past this month with hardly a blog, because so much has happened that I've hardly drawn breath.

My daughter had a (thankfully very minor) accident in her car, I performed in the town Arts Festival, was busy at work...

WAS busy at work.

The Leg - more precisely, the Knee - had other ideas. It feels as though a rat with very blunt teeth is slowly gnawing through the bone. I've had a blood test for Rheumatoid Arthritis. I'm hoping it's not that, though I have been ignoring some mild symptoms for the last few years.

I've now had four weeks off work with another sick-note until November 9th. The pain, I explained to the doctor, was about an 18 on a scale of 1 - 10. (And this from a woman who had both her babies without any painkillers at all).

I'm hobbling round like a good'un, and am considering writing to ask if I could be the New Face of Stannah Stairlifts.

The doctor isn't quite sure what's wrong, but I'm beginning to accumulate fluid on the knee and the pain isn't easing at all, quite the reverse. He muttered something about sending me to Someone Who can Do Something.

SO - my challenge in all this is to see how it fits into my wonderful 50th year...

Not difficult, actually, given that life is never predictable and it's perfectly okay in my book to include some hard times in a wonderful year. So what if I LOOK 85 as I limp through the supermarket? I'm still alive and happy to be so!

I've had time to type up most of my poetry, which will make it easier to send to people and put online. I'm thinking about the future, and taking time to read. I'm making the most of this opportunity to rest and just Be. I can't do any housework which involves crouching or bending, as I can't guarantee being able to get back up (my daughter had to help me last time, and I was crying with pain before I managed to stand back up!)

But - there's always the memories of Michael McIntyre to see me through!
So - I'll just see what happens. It's different, that's for sure.

For the little girl in Costa Coffee this afternoon...

2009-10-04T15:20:00.000-07:00

I wrote this poem this afternoon in a coffee shop, watching the most beautiful little girl - she looked as though she'd been polished with Baby Brite! I hope you like it.

She sits in a high chair,
Fist holding tightly
The crumbs from the biscuit
Her daddy just gave her.
A CRASH in the corner,
Now everyone’s looking;
A flustered young waiter
Picks glass off the floor.

She gazes a moment,
Then back to her biscuit –
Pays no attention,
Gets on with her task.
She’s only ten months, yet
Has learnt very early
To mind her own business
And do as she’s asked.

But now she is glancing
Across to the kitchen
Her eyebrows are question marks,
Mouth a wide ‘O’.
The grown-ups are chatting,
The noise is forgotten
Except by the baby,
Who’s wanting to know
“What was it? Who did it?
And why did it happen? And
What made the noises? And
How does glass break?”

She catches my eye, and
A look of intelligence
Flashes between us –
And that’s all it takes.

A brief recognition
Of something in common;
I smile, and she grins
As she chews on a spoon
My heart melts, and I whisper,
“Enjoy it, dear baby!
It goes oh, so quickly!
Have fun with your life,
You’ll be all grown-up soon!”

Then I feel someone looking,
Glance over my shoulder
And see an old woman
With snowy white hair.
She nods, and her eyes
Send me the same message,
“Enjoy being young! Have some fun if you dare!”

She’s smiling and beautiful,
Calm and serene, with
Long years of happiness
Etched on her face.
I look, and am heartened,
And know beyond doubt
That the key to growing old
Is to do it with grace.

Never stop questioning,
Let curiosity
Keep you alive and
Thirsting for more.
And don’t let regrets
Quench your pride in maturing –
Welcome each day
As it knocks on the door.

Live like a baby,
With hope and abandon,
Use all your energy
Learning to play.
Don’t use half-measures,
Cram buckets of laughter
As many as possible
Into each day.

Fashionable illnesses...

2009-09-30T02:16:00.000-07:00

I have a very sore leg at the moment... I wrenched it and I felt the injury happen, and thankfully the leg didn't fall off or anything - so I assume (and so did the doctor) that it will respond to a bit of R&R.

A friend eagerly told me it might be Fibromyalgia. She's had it for a few years now, and I have to say, it seems very fashionable these days. This friend said to me last year: "I like being ill! It means I don't have to go to work and I can do what I like!" She appears to have the energy for the things she enjoys, but is more or less retired on grounds of ill-health.

It seems a high price to pay, regarding yourself as an invalid in order to get permission to do what you want in life. I have every - every! - sympathy with dreaming of a life of doing what you want, but... it doesn't seem to be how it works, not when you're single anyway! I think the whole of society is in an Emperor's New Clothes phase, where everyone KNOWS that work has become too stressful for most people, but nobody wants to be the first to admit to it (it would, after all, bring society to a grinding halt if we actually put our physical and emotional - not to mention spiritual - wellbeing before Money). So we have all these illnesses now... all real, but all very much connected to our mental state.

Six years ago, when I was off work for five months following some rather nasty bullying, I remember realising my body was playing tricks and I gave it a stern talking-to. It was incredibly tempting to be signed off for another few months but I realised if I went that way I was choosing illness over coping... I don't blame those who do, mind, but I do think we ought to acknowledge the enormous stresses people are under.

I was so exhausted that I actually fell asleep whilst crawling along in the supermarket pushing a trolley. I was so damaged by the bullying that I had panic attacks when I was contemplating going back to work.

And yet I'm fine now. I certainly entertain regular fantasies about running that bookshop/cafe by the seaside, as do most of the women I know. But I also realise that for society to run at all (and I don't think it's doing that well tbh) we do need to step up to the mark and do our bit. If we can. Some people are simply too burnt-out to continue, which I think is a perfectly rational response to being under too much stress - but it's not really possible to say "Stop the world for a bit" unless we have illness on our side. I'm convinced that this is what is happening to a lot of people; they are unable to frame the words, "I'm not coping." They can't give themselves permission to feel too stressed to carry on, so - they become ill. (Those illnesses are real. I just think they probably won't respond to medication unless it's accompanied by a change in lifestyle and perhaps some talking therapy or the listening ears of good friends).

True, I'd secretly rather be doing some other bit rather than the one I'm doing right now, but I'm not neglecting my spiritual side, I don't really buy too much into Materialism and I think I have a reasonably healthy attitude.

But what about all these people who daren't admit even to themselves that their job and their aspirations are at odds with their wellbeing?

Wouldn't it be great if there was a little less talk about sex and we removed the taboo around discussing true Happiness (ie learning to take care of our emotional and spiritual needs rather than pretending that getting pissed will sort it all out) instead?

Random thoughts...

2009-09-28T15:05:00.001-07:00

Is an affair that's going so well you feel as though you're dancing on air, an Elationship?

How near did the Antiques show 'Going for a Song' come to being called 'Going for a Snog'? And what would it have been about?

Why has it taken me so long to realise that 'cassock' is an anagram of 'ass cock'?

Why am I rambling on here when I need a good night's sleep? ;)

Night, all! I notice the Madeleine link has gone, that didn't take long!

A quick brush with old age...

2009-09-23T12:55:00.000-07:00

A few times in my life, I've had illnesses which gave me a glimpse into old age. When I had a middle ear problem many years ago, I wasn't able to walk alone, and needed a friendly arm to help me stand up straight and walk, not stagger, across a room. When I had a near-miss with ME, I held onto the trolley for dear life as I went round the supermarket, on one occasion falling asleep in an aisle...

And this last couple or weeks have given me a taste of those who struggle daily with arthritis. Shortly after I arrived home from Italy, my fingers - all of them - hurt so much that I could hardly write, let alone open bottles and turn taps. I wondered if it was RSI (not a good thing for an aspiring writer) and faced the thought of not being able to drive if it continued. Then my knees began to protest every time I asked them to carry me anywhere. I realised that it coincided with returning to work, and had a stern word with my body, assuring it that I would be in work with or without its cooperation.

And as suddenly as it started, it all vanished. My hands were fine, my knees seemed okay - until my left leg felt as though it had been stabbed. I rested it, put ice packs on it, and necked Ibuprofen. It improved. And then I tripped on a wire and wrenched my knee.

Reader, I expected to look down and see that my leg had come off.

It hadn't. And again it began to improve with a lot of care and none of my three-times-a-week visits to the gym.

Until last night I woke at 4, in pain. And remained in pain until it was time to get up for work. I drove to the doctor's and, bless him, he saw me immediately and has diagnosed an allergic reaction to mosquito bites, resulting in arthroscopic inflammation.

It will pass. Thank goodness. It may be a sign from the Universe that the Villa in Italy idea ought to be shelved, which is no great heartbreak.

It made me think. I had briefly begun to accept that such pain might be a part of ageing, that however much I embrace the thought of Fiftiness, my body will irrevocably complain at times.

And I'm pleased to say, it didn't dampen my enthusiasm for the next decade. Pain can be borne. All sorts of things can be assimilated into our lives and even perhaps learnt from. I've lived with emotional pain for years on end at various times. I have tinnitus, but forget about it so completely that I'm not sure I've ever bothered mentioning it to the doctor.

We can bear all sorts of things in life, if we choose to. That's not to say that we always accept difficult new things straight away, nor indeed that we ought to do so. It's important to acknowledge pain/sorrow/fear/sadness/grief etc, because (in my opinion) this diminishes their power over us.

It may be that one day I shall have to learn to live with pain. Well, what if that's the case? Many have done it before me. I am no more or less courageous than anybody else.

Meanwhile, I'm thankful that my brush with arthritis appears to be almost over. I have renewed sympathy for those who struggle with it daily. And a new perspective on what the future might - might - hold.

All the more reason to relish the present!

A poem I wrote...

2009-09-21T09:27:00.000-07:00

She was a soft, warm blanket
Wrapped comfortingly around him every night.
But as he snuggled into her, he dreamed of
Egyptian cotton sheets; try as he might,
His treacherous memory drew pictures in the air
Which did not match the woman lying there.
He tried ignoring them; it felt so wrong...
But the lure of smooth, cool fabric was too strong.
He took the blanket, flung it through the door,
And cloaked in memories, slept alone once more.

Go on, I dare me...

2009-09-19T01:44:00.000-07:00

It's been one of those weeks which feels about three months long, until you get to Friday and think, "Already?!" I remain fascinated by the fluidity of our perception of time. I can only imagine what reaching fifty will feel like! It's only a couple of minutes since my summers were spent hunting snails in Mr Shutt's overgrown garden, surviving only on wild raspberries (until teatime, at least, but it felt dangerously near to starvation at the time). Now they are spent wondering when to do everything that needs to be done around the house and garden, before realising that I've somehow left it six weeks to get my work outfits ready, and it's now too late...

I've never really grown up, I think that's the thing (I was going to write 'that's the problem', but it really isn't - not for me at least).

In my heart, I am still that little girl who wants to spend her days smelling the roses, watching the spiders weave their amazing webs, following ants as they carry miniscule crumbs of biscuit, racing snails, sitting in the graveyard wondering what it's like to be dead and making up stories for the people named on the tombstones, and dreaming of travelling the world one day.

I'm still her.

My daughters love this aspect of me - the enthusiastic, funny, bubbly never-stops-dreaming person who I think probably is the 'real me' as far as one can know. I love it too, but it makes settling into a job extremely difficult. Deep down I don't want to be a mortgage-slave, or appear to think that work is all-important... and yet in some ways it is. There's nobody else to pay my bills if I don't. I believe in Society and responsibility... and yet...

...can you keep a secret? I still wake up in the morning and want to run away. Not in a bad way; not in a 'stop the world I want to get off ' way. I just want to go and See and Be and Do all those things which I always thought I would do when I was Grown Up.

But I've never really grown up! I've done loads of things, of course - I've lived abroad a few times, given birth to the most wonderful daughters who are so much better than the wonderful daughters I always intended to have. I've dined with bishops (including Robert Runcie, who was gorgeous), driven a dogsled, swum naked in a mountain lake in Austria, sung some of the world's most hauntingly beautiful music in various choirs, played Eliza Doolittle in both 'Pygmalion' and 'My Fair Lady' (preferred 'Pygmalion') and been on television and radio.

Should that be 'enough'?

Well perhaps. But I'm no longer one for 'shoulds' and 'oughts'. I would put this whole thing down to Mid-life crisis, except that I don't feel any different about all this than when I was twenty. This is who I am - the restless, "Surely there's MORE?" bit is as part of me as all the rest. So I have learned to live with it, and as I approach fifty I see more and more that I am going to have to do more than tolerate it, perhaps accommodate it a little more. Maybe go somewhere I've never been, all on my own. Perhaps go on the kind of dates I've never been on. Take myself off to a restaurant with food I've never tried before.

It's NOT a rehearsal! I'm one of millions of people who've felt and continue to feel this way. As I look to the coming year, given that I've taken the trouble to start a blog, I think I owe it to myself (and others) to get off my backside and take a few risks!

Why ARE we here..??

2009-09-15T23:37:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my non-Silver Wedding. I had wondered how it would feel - we've been apart for 7 years, divorced for 5, so a fair few anniversaries have come and gone. Still, Silver Weddings are still celebrated pretty seriously, and I wasn't sure how I would feel about it on the day.

It was tough. I dreamt the night before about my Ex's family - including his father, who died over twenty years ago, and who was so alive in the dream that I woke feeling really strange about the passage of time since the wedding. It's always fascinated me how you can look back through time to a particular event and it can seem like centuries ago, but look back at that same event, and it could be yesterday. This is one of the things which demonstrates to me that time isn't real at all. (Another being, how you can not see someone for years but slip easily into talking as though you've never been apart).

So I got to thinking, as you do, about how many people on the wedding photos (I didn't get the album out, I know them by heart) aren't around any more. Some people keep their families intact down the years, we began to lose our wedding guests quite early. Two years on, one parent had vanished. Another two, an uncle of mine... and now, a quarter of a century down the line, at least 10 significant guests are gone, and many bit-players too.

Which brought me back to my perennial (everyone's perennial) question - What is the point of being here at all? I don't mean that to sound depressed, it's a genuine question which puzzles me from time to time. I have lots of answers - but they all seem to involve what I mean in context - I am someone's parent, friend, teacher etc. It used to be 'because God made me and loves me' but that one doesn't work at all for me now, as I suspect I may have made God...

Does there have to be a Point? This way Existentialism (about which I know incredibly little) lies.

Yet I do persist in believing - intuiting - that there IS Meaning. I refuse to be just the sum of my parts, and to have relationships which can be scientifically proven to be meaningless.

And I suppose somewhere in that refusal, that determination to have meaning, lies the answer. Greater souls than I have struggled with this and gone away from the fight empty-handed, but that doesn't mean I don't need to grapple too. In fact, I suspect that IS our meaning - that in this seemingly random (yet intricately inter-connected) Universe, humans are movers and shakers simply by virtue of asking the questions; almost like unwitting computer programmers.

Today I saw that Google has found this blog. It feels oddly comforting. I think most of us want to leave our mark on the world, and for me having children doesn't feel that way - they are THEM, not me. I don't want to burden them with validating my life (although of course they do, infinitely so).

This is the year I am going to find some answers! :)

I got this unexpected text from my Ex, which made me feel better in a bitter-sweet kind of way: Strange day. All kinds of emotion. Just thought I'd say it wasn't wasted time. Thank you for then and now. X

One day we too will be memories in a photo album. I wonder if those who follow us will have the answer to my question, and tell a new generation about me and why I was so unforgettable? It struck me as a child that once you are further back than 'Grandma' nobody gets emotional about you not being there any longer. And that's as it should be, isn't it? Otherwise, how would we cope day-to-day with all the emotion?

I'm beginning to feel a hint of Carpe Diem coming on!

I love this poem...

2009-09-13T12:56:00.000-07:00

LIFE GOES ON

If I should go before the rest of you,
Break not a flower,
Nor inscribe a stone.
Nor, when I am gone,
Speak in a Sunday voice -
But be the usual selves
That I have known

Weep if you must;
Parting is hell.
But life goes on
So... sing as well.

Joyce Grenfell (1910 - 1979)

(Every version I looked at had different punctuation, some had none!)

Get on with it!

2009-09-13T00:43:00.001-07:00

I've just been looking at jobs online. I've come across two wonderful schools' websites reporting the sudden and shocking death of their headteachers. Just looking at the websites tells me what an inspiration they have been, what they have achieved and what an enormous sense of grief and loss is being experienced by their school communities. One had won a prestigious teaching award last year.

They were both around my age.

It is a strange thing to feel sad that you never met someone whom - well, whom you never met! I found myself thinking, "If she'd been alive and I'd got an interview, we would have met and this would have been my loss too in some small way." Even without that meeting, I can feel sad for those who are reeling with shock as I type, and imagine the superhuman effort they are making to start term as normally as possible.

As I've written before, we are all connected. It is only by the merest chance that I even know about these people, but that doesn't mean I can't be touched by their lives and early deaths.

We cannot know how long we are here for. So it makes sense to make the most of it, to grasp those nettles, to dare to have those relationships knowing that even if they end, they were fun while they lasted, to take those risks, to make those differences...

...while we can. When we die, we leave a legacy in the hearts and minds of everyone who knew us. To a remarkable extent, we can choose NOW how we wish to be remembered.

If I died today, I think I would be remembered as a warm, friendly, loving and humorous woman with certain talents which perhaps I never used to the full. If death has a meaning for the living, perhaps it is a reminder to live our lives to the full - only I can live my life as it can best be lived. Nobody else can do that for me. This will be a good year to take stock and decide what footprints I want to leave in the hearts, minds and souls of those I care about.

Feelings...

2009-09-09T00:06:00.000-07:00

I'm still feeling excited about this year. I'm just coming to the end of a period of counselling which has been very useful. It seems that although I've always been the person people go to with their problems, approachable and empathetic, in one sense it was all an act (I didn't know that).

I'd got to 48 without realising that I had mistaken thoughts for feelings, insight for empathy. To be fair, nobody else had spotted it either. I had to retreat into analysing and thinking as a little girl, when it was a bit too painful to face facts such as Mummy not really wanting me around. Because I have a good imagination, I've always been able to articulate my feelings - but in fact they were more... ideas about feelings.

This is hard to grasp, I know. When it first hit me I felt - felt - as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water into my soul.

The fact is, though, that it had never really occurred to me (although I work with children to help them identify their feelings) that feelings are - well, felt.

I'm still not quite there, but I'm getting there. I can now identify anxiety in my chest as opposed to giving a long list of words describing it. I've not yet had many visceral sensations, which is SO weird because I have always seen myself as incredibly intuitive. But my intuition is in my head...

This perhaps explains at last why I always felt different. Since entering teaching I've often wondered if I was some kind of autistic child who miraculously grew out of it. Now I realised that I deliberately froze my feelings because it was much safer that way. I'm beginning to have more and more 'Derr!' moments when it hits me that feelings are called that because you FEEL them in your body. Not rocket science, but to me, Quantum Physics. (Literally - read Deepak Chopra!)

I'm sure it's not just me. Many people run from what's In There. It's just that I'd spent so many years thinking it all through that it never struck me that I was - thinking it through. I've talked this over with my daughters; I think I've spared one of them the trouble of going down this path!

I've certainly held back at times, aided and abetted by Evangelical Christianity. I forgave hurts blindly, never challenging those who inflicted them. I accepted emotional abuse and turned the other cheek for more. I strived to be Loving without tapping into the anger which led Christ to beat people up in the Temple. Above all, I tried to be Nice. Because I knew what Not Nice looked like, and I didn't want to let it out.

Now I feel safer. It's okay not to be Nice. I always knew that - in my head... now I Know it - in my heart.

As people go, I'm not a bad one. No more or less than most of the others on the planet, in fact. I'm spending time every day meditating on some thoughts of Deepak Chopra (from the book 'SynchroDestiny') and one of the main themes is that we reflect, and are reflected in, everyone on the planet.

It's a big thought, but a comforting one in many ways. I have always felt a deep, deep connection, almost indescribable in words (and therefore probably one of my longest-lived and most authentic emotions) to the world and its inhabitants. I've been puzzled for years about why, when I drive past old people and their dogs, I'm overwhelmed with sadness at their inevitable separation down the line. For decades I've counted certain trees amongst my greatest friends.

Does this make me mad? Perhaps, I suppose it depends who's judging.

All I know for sure is that it makes me ME. And that's a great way to approach 50, isn't it? Being the most Me I've ever been...

Perspective...

2009-09-04T14:46:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I visited a friend in hospital. I say a friend - he taught me 'A' level French over 30 years ago. We got in touch on Friends Reunited in 2007 and we've corresponded ever since. Earlier this week he rang to let me know he had probably got cancer and was in hospital for tests and pain relief. My immediate reaction was to ask if he'd like me to visit, and he was so thrilled that I went the next day.

I took the train up to Leeds. Even though my daughter had warned me about the charge to use public toilets, I was a little shocked at finding the station ones cost 30p. I showed my age by muttering darkly, "Six shillings! That's 72 old pennies! Inflation? Pah!" and walked cross-legged to the bus stop...

People were very friendly (as I'd expect in Yorkshire - still, it was nice to be right!) and someone showed me the stop I needed. St James' is HUGE - I found the right bit of it without too much trouble, and stopped off for a coffee before searching for my friend's ward.

As I sat there collecting my thoughts, I decided to write a poem for my friend in the blank card I'd bought. I wondered what one puts under such circumstances... everyone responds differently to the news of terminal illness, but I felt that if it were me, I'd like to know I wasn't going to be remembered just for being an invalid.

Here's the poem. It's not great literature, I didn't have time to polish it much, but it came from the heart and I know he loved it...

FOR JACK
Since we last met...
Thirty Christmases have come and gone;
Yet still I see you as you were back then.
Patiently dealing with our teenage silliness,
Coaxing us to a deeper knowledge of the grammar for which our school was named.
Still images are imprinted on my mind;
'Le Grand Meaulnes' - a film in Leeds -
Your dry humour, love of crosswords,
The sudden silence when you raised your voice
Because we'd gone too far.

We never kept in touch, but through the years
I have remembered you.
As I drink tea, and wait to come and find you on the ward,
My mind will not allow me
To see you any older than you were.
I replay the moving pictures...
You trudge across a bridge,
Perhaps you glance to see the river
Meander past the boathouse to the weir.
And then you climb a slope.
I walk behind you, watching,
Waiting for the moment when your back straightens, your weariness lifts,
Your face a happy beacon
As your little daughters run to you.
You drop your briefcase, scoop them to your shoulders,
Hold them close...

That's how I remember you.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

We had a great time catching up. There no strangeness between us, none of the awkward shyness you can feel when you meet an old teacher. We simply met soul-to-soul, and took great comfort in it.

Perspective. Life in perspective. What really matters? Estranged family had been to see him in hospital - bridges were being built. Love was shining through and triumphing.

Whatever happens, I hope he will take comfort from my memories of him as a young man full of vigour and love for his family. That's how I remember him.

And so it continues...

2009-09-01T13:43:00.000-07:00

Today has been a long day, full of appointments and non-appointments (I was a day early for one!)

I took the car (aka Zachary) for his first MOT and 30,000 mile service. I spent the morning walking up and down the local roads, stopping at cafes from time to time, until at 1 they told me it would be all day, and asked if I'd like to borrow a car. Which I did, only to realise on the way home that my house keys were on the car-keys fob. I called at a friend's house and spent a couple of hours with kittens crawling up me and lying asleep on my chest.

The cat hadn't been well so once I'd collected the car (£233 plus another £180 in two weeks when they replace a part) I popped her to the vets - another £43... At least my trip to the doctor's was free! I had a good chat and laugh with the nurse who saw me. Bills were the last thing on my mind.

You know what? I refuse to worry about money. My Dad, who wasn't in the least religious, always taught me that "If you give, you get back." He said it was like some Universal Law. He was ahead of his time... anyway, I have always given, and always got back. Years ago I even tithed my student grant. I was the only person I knew with money left at the end of each year.

I spoke to a dear friend tonight. He has just learnt that he probably has cancer. He has thousands of pounds more than I do, but he probably won't be able to buy his way out of this one...

Money isn't real, after all. We've invented it. It's useful when it gives you a better quality of life, but it isn't useful when the pursuit of money leads to a poorer quality of life. This much I've learned in 49 years. I'm certainly not going to worry about it - to me, bills are a confirmation of the fact that I have enough. And that's all I need. More than enough will surely come my way, and I shall enjoy it, but enough is... well, enough!

Here we go!

2009-08-30T23:36:00.001-07:00

I had a fantastic birthday yesterday. My daughter took me out for lunch (her Dad came too) at a very nice Italian restaurant. I resisted the pizza (trying not to eat too much wheat these days) and chose a chicken dish, which was beautifully cooked and not too filling, leaving room for dessert. I hardly ever eat dessert but I decided I was going to celebrate and chose something I wouldn't normally have - a tart with figs and plums, which looked like the kind of thing which would send Greg into raptures on Masterchef (if you want to win, just cook Greg a dessert with figs in).

I had a glass of prosecco as I wanted my day to sparkle, and feeling very wicked, chose a liqueur coffee to finish - maybe I wouldn't have done if I'd known they were going to bring me a free Birthday Prosecco as well! It made for a very merry walk round the shops afterwards...

I had all kinds of cards and messages from people. Even though the weekend/Bank Holiday combo had done its worst and delayed a few cards, there are plenty on my mantelpiece, and some to look forward to. We arrived home to friends on the doorstep and yet more cards and flowers. It was a really lovely day!

Today I'm going into town to soak up a bit of Bank Holiday atmosphere before revving up for the return to work later this week. :)

Almost there!

2009-08-29T11:08:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow's my birthday! I still get ridiculously excited about birthdays... I've never really known why, but I suspect it's something to do with being frequently told as a little girl about my very dangerous birth which 'almost killed' my mother and me. (I was placenta praevia - the minute birth began, my life support system was gone and my mother was bleeding to death. Luckily she was in the operating theatre so an emergency C-section saved our lives).

Birthdays were always a bit of a strange time for me, with Mum recalling the birth story in very dramatic fashion. In some way she blamed me for her ill-health afterwards, and we never really bonded as I would have liked. I think for me, a birthday was a day which had the potential for that magical, story-book Mummy to appear. In fact, I got a bit of a self-pitying thing about them as the day itself was very often either on August Bank Holiday or the Sunday and so cards would rarely arrive on time. For some reason this mattered terribly to me; I took it as a personal slight.

However, these days I just love being around to celebrate Life. Cards are a bonus. And I still get that little-girl excitement about my birthday... Tomorrow I'll tell you how it went!

Countdown to Fifty!

2009-08-28T00:45:00.000-07:00

This blog is my birthday present to myself. My 49th birthday is in two days' time, and I am really excited about starting my fiftieth year on the planet! So far, each year has been better than the last. I realise there may be a tipping-point sometime in the future, but - so far, so good.

Many people are so afraid of the ageing process; yet it's the one thing we can't prevent in life. I look 'young for my age' - even at 48 I only have a very few silver hairs... but in a decade I shall probably look much older than many of my peers as the plastic surgery culture eats into our self-respect and feeds our adulation of youth.

I wanted to make my voice heard in favour of embracing the ageing process. Just to be clear, I don't consider 50 old at all . I'm the youngest of four, all of whom are outrageously young for their age as well, and the oldest woman I ever knew was 107, which puts it all into perspective, don't you think?

I'm reading a lot about the Law of Attraction at the moment. It's a theme I shall return to, but for now I shall content myself with shouting out to cyberspace, "THIS IS GOING TO BE A WONDERFUL YEAR!!!!!!"

Hope yours is too, do follow me through the next twelve months and see how it goes! :)