it's been a while. there is a lot to write and a lot to come to terms with.
and pics to post of my latest knits, and all kinds of wonderful things that have happened. I have too many ideas for the development of this blog. it may be a problem.
I'll deal with it by making a delicious salad for lunch.
Sunday, 28 November 2010
Wednesday, 28 July 2010
my friend
When I went to university there were only a small handful of us (okay 6 of us) who were on the same bursary scheme and so when I started off in a new country, feeling very alone and scared, I was so relieved to find that two of them were in the same English and Linguistics lectures and one of those two was in Geography with me as well.
That was Bruce. Almost immediately we became such good friends. We drank coffee in eachothers rooms, shared precious biscuits that mums had made and put in our luggage when we left after every vac. We worked together, spent ages discussing everything. In short he became the best friend I'd ever had, the older brother. I felt loved, protected, supported.
What no-one seemed to get is that we really were just friends. Everyone seemed to think there was more to it - secret shags at least! His girlfriend and my boyfriend were Not Impressed and it caused many a problem!
Years later we both left Zim. He and his wife (the girlfriend from before!) and gorgeous kids live in Doha - which isn't very far away but feels like a universe apart. We chat online.
I miss him. I miss him so much. I miss the banter, the gentle shoves, the teasing. I miss the fact that he used to make tea just exactly how I like it, without asking, and never making any for himself. I miss the hugs.
Now he's in South Africa with his family, on holiday. He's staying in a place where we'll be passing through in a blink, at the same time! We'll be going to see some favourite godparents - real angels. And we probably can't stop because there is so much banked on when we arrive and leave....
I miss my friend. I think my soul is crying.
That was Bruce. Almost immediately we became such good friends. We drank coffee in eachothers rooms, shared precious biscuits that mums had made and put in our luggage when we left after every vac. We worked together, spent ages discussing everything. In short he became the best friend I'd ever had, the older brother. I felt loved, protected, supported.
What no-one seemed to get is that we really were just friends. Everyone seemed to think there was more to it - secret shags at least! His girlfriend and my boyfriend were Not Impressed and it caused many a problem!
Years later we both left Zim. He and his wife (the girlfriend from before!) and gorgeous kids live in Doha - which isn't very far away but feels like a universe apart. We chat online.
I miss him. I miss him so much. I miss the banter, the gentle shoves, the teasing. I miss the fact that he used to make tea just exactly how I like it, without asking, and never making any for himself. I miss the hugs.
Now he's in South Africa with his family, on holiday. He's staying in a place where we'll be passing through in a blink, at the same time! We'll be going to see some favourite godparents - real angels. And we probably can't stop because there is so much banked on when we arrive and leave....
I miss my friend. I think my soul is crying.
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Shantaram
For this is what we do. Put one foot forward and then the other. Lift our eyes to the snarl and smile of the world once more. Think. Act. Feel. Add our little consequences to the tides of good and evil that flood and drain the world. Drag our shadowed crosses into the hope of another night. Push our brave hearts into the promise of a new day. With love: the passionate search for a truth other than our own. With longing: the pure, ineffable yearning to be saved. For so long as fate keeps waiting, we live on. God help us. God forgive us. We live on.
Monday, 26 July 2010
talking to angels...
Today I trundled along with my parcels off to the post office. It was with some foreboding - 7 packages, all weighing between 1 and 2kg and all being posted off to Knit-A-Square in South Africa. The queue was already long and I wasn't helping with my 3 bags of parcels!
The old lady in front of me happened to turn around and see my baggage!
"Ooh. You've got a lot to post. Are they heavy?" and she leans over to lift one of the bags to test the weight.
"Not really" I say smiling at the sweetness of her.
"What are you posting, then?" she asks, lifting the second bag.
"It's squares for charity. I'm a teacher and the kids at school all learnt how to knit and now I'm posting them off to Soweto in South Africa to be made into blankets for AIDS orphans."
"Oh, you are lovely. Who taught them to knit?"
"I did."
"You knit? My daughters-in-law haven't a clue how to."
"I do knit - a lot actually. And yes - it seems very few people knit now adays."
"I'm looking for something to do. I'm retired now. I'm 72. I could knit. What do I need to do?"
I told her, gave her the address to post them too and chatted some more - about poverty, about the importance of the fortunate to help the unfortunate, about growing up in a third world country. Her name is Ruth. She was born and grew up in India. She has such lovely memories of growing up there and many of our experiences were similar - despite a generation and hemisphere gap.
We were both called to the next counter. When she was finished she walked passed me and said
"It's lovely that there are still angels in the world like you. I shall get home and get knitting."
I smiled and thanked her. And said that it was lovely to meet her. And she left on her way to knit.
It was lovely to meet her. I really enjoyed our chat and I wanted to know more about her childhood, her life.
I should have invited her for tea... but instead I smiled as she waved at me and walked out the door.
There be angels around us every day.
The old lady in front of me happened to turn around and see my baggage!
"Ooh. You've got a lot to post. Are they heavy?" and she leans over to lift one of the bags to test the weight.
"Not really" I say smiling at the sweetness of her.
"What are you posting, then?" she asks, lifting the second bag.
"It's squares for charity. I'm a teacher and the kids at school all learnt how to knit and now I'm posting them off to Soweto in South Africa to be made into blankets for AIDS orphans."
"Oh, you are lovely. Who taught them to knit?"
"I did."
"You knit? My daughters-in-law haven't a clue how to."
"I do knit - a lot actually. And yes - it seems very few people knit now adays."
"I'm looking for something to do. I'm retired now. I'm 72. I could knit. What do I need to do?"
I told her, gave her the address to post them too and chatted some more - about poverty, about the importance of the fortunate to help the unfortunate, about growing up in a third world country. Her name is Ruth. She was born and grew up in India. She has such lovely memories of growing up there and many of our experiences were similar - despite a generation and hemisphere gap.
We were both called to the next counter. When she was finished she walked passed me and said
"It's lovely that there are still angels in the world like you. I shall get home and get knitting."
I smiled and thanked her. And said that it was lovely to meet her. And she left on her way to knit.
It was lovely to meet her. I really enjoyed our chat and I wanted to know more about her childhood, her life.
I should have invited her for tea... but instead I smiled as she waved at me and walked out the door.
There be angels around us every day.
Thursday, 22 July 2010
remembering and thinking
My mother in law passed away when my husband and I had only been married for 8 months. Almost 3 years ago. Today I started sorting her photos, kept letters and diaries into better piles so we could put them in albums.
I miss her but I hardly knew her. She was devastated when my husband told her he was going to marry me - not necessarily because of me but because I dont think anyone could have been good enough for him. She cried through the wedding and afterwards kept crying and asking me look after him. It made me really sad. I know she was very attached to Austin - more so than her two older kids, and I know that they had been through a lot together but I wanted to be friends with her.
I looked at how my amazing, loving family scooped Austin up and loved him unconditionally, how they unquestioningly looked after him for 3 months while he wrote his thesis (and played with puppies!) My brother sees him as an older sibling and my extended family wrapped them in their love and within no time at all it was as if he'd always been there as a part of us.
But I wasn't going to be a part of his family. I wished she could smile and be happy for him. I wished she could love me. I wished she saw me as the person I am rather than the person taking her son away. I desperately wanted to be part of her life too.
During our honeymoon she collapsed and was taken to hospital to have her right kidney removed due to a massive tumour. We organised for her to go to a fantastic recovery home which had really good reviews. Only they treated her horribly. The day after she moved in the nurse complained to me that she kept asking for pain meds and she was only allowed them twice a day. The nurse was quite put out when I got cross - I knew she was in a great deal of pain - who wouldn't have been!? The next time we went to visit her, her arms and sides were covered with dark bruises from when they'd roughly given her a sponge bath. We complained, and then noticed that her hand cream, body lotion and face cloth were gone. Noone knew what had happened to them. The next day when we arrived, her face was swollen, she was tired and her lips and fingernails were blue. We called an emergency doctor who said she'd had a heart attack, he suspected the evening before. The nurses had ignored her pleas for help. We moved her out an hour later to a place which looked after her so well and she really began to recover.
But she never quite got there. She hardly ate and didn't put on weight. She was lonely and unhappy but wouldn't move to another care home closer to family. We wrote to her and sent her gifts from across the world but she didn't get better. Eventually Austin got the call to come home. For the next month he single-handedly nursed her as she got weaker and weaker. I was stuck at work - not being allowed time off can you believe! One day Austin phoned and said that one of her friends thought she was hanging on so she could talk to me so Austin held the phone to her ear and I talked to her. I told her I loved her, that I wished that I was there with her and that I would love Austin forever so she didn't have to worry about him at all! But by then she was too weak to talk and in her attempts to say something to me became frantic and desperate. I wish I'd told her that I'd understood - even though I didn't.
Two days later she passed away quietly while my husband held her hand.
I miss her. But I think that it's not really her I miss. I miss the potential of her. I miss not having had a good relationship with her. I miss never having the chance to have tea with her and chat about nothing in particular. I miss the fact that I will never have any parents in law. And I miss her even more when I see Austin's pain at the loss of her and I wish beyond anything else that I could make it better.
I miss her but I hardly knew her. She was devastated when my husband told her he was going to marry me - not necessarily because of me but because I dont think anyone could have been good enough for him. She cried through the wedding and afterwards kept crying and asking me look after him. It made me really sad. I know she was very attached to Austin - more so than her two older kids, and I know that they had been through a lot together but I wanted to be friends with her.
I looked at how my amazing, loving family scooped Austin up and loved him unconditionally, how they unquestioningly looked after him for 3 months while he wrote his thesis (and played with puppies!) My brother sees him as an older sibling and my extended family wrapped them in their love and within no time at all it was as if he'd always been there as a part of us.
But I wasn't going to be a part of his family. I wished she could smile and be happy for him. I wished she could love me. I wished she saw me as the person I am rather than the person taking her son away. I desperately wanted to be part of her life too.
During our honeymoon she collapsed and was taken to hospital to have her right kidney removed due to a massive tumour. We organised for her to go to a fantastic recovery home which had really good reviews. Only they treated her horribly. The day after she moved in the nurse complained to me that she kept asking for pain meds and she was only allowed them twice a day. The nurse was quite put out when I got cross - I knew she was in a great deal of pain - who wouldn't have been!? The next time we went to visit her, her arms and sides were covered with dark bruises from when they'd roughly given her a sponge bath. We complained, and then noticed that her hand cream, body lotion and face cloth were gone. Noone knew what had happened to them. The next day when we arrived, her face was swollen, she was tired and her lips and fingernails were blue. We called an emergency doctor who said she'd had a heart attack, he suspected the evening before. The nurses had ignored her pleas for help. We moved her out an hour later to a place which looked after her so well and she really began to recover.
But she never quite got there. She hardly ate and didn't put on weight. She was lonely and unhappy but wouldn't move to another care home closer to family. We wrote to her and sent her gifts from across the world but she didn't get better. Eventually Austin got the call to come home. For the next month he single-handedly nursed her as she got weaker and weaker. I was stuck at work - not being allowed time off can you believe! One day Austin phoned and said that one of her friends thought she was hanging on so she could talk to me so Austin held the phone to her ear and I talked to her. I told her I loved her, that I wished that I was there with her and that I would love Austin forever so she didn't have to worry about him at all! But by then she was too weak to talk and in her attempts to say something to me became frantic and desperate. I wish I'd told her that I'd understood - even though I didn't.
Two days later she passed away quietly while my husband held her hand.
I miss her. But I think that it's not really her I miss. I miss the potential of her. I miss not having had a good relationship with her. I miss never having the chance to have tea with her and chat about nothing in particular. I miss the fact that I will never have any parents in law. And I miss her even more when I see Austin's pain at the loss of her and I wish beyond anything else that I could make it better.
Saturday, 3 July 2010
Sunday, 13 June 2010
Sunday, 6 June 2010
Elephant Parade (Part 1)
all through London at the moment is an Elephant Parade which I've been dying to see since I heard about it. Through London are 258 elephants, all decorated by various artists and celebs, to bring the plight of the Asian elephant in to the public eye.
I went out on a mission and dragged my husband and two friends with me. The men were fabulously patient for a while and then left to have a drink at a nearby pub. The other friend and I headed out across Green Park, braving the few minutes of drizzle, and I have now seen 26 ellies. I fully intend to see as many as I can (perhaps not the one in Brixton for instance).
I love it. I love the cleverness of the scheme. Everyone is talking about it - the word is out.
so here are the first few ellies. ....
I went out on a mission and dragged my husband and two friends with me. The men were fabulously patient for a while and then left to have a drink at a nearby pub. The other friend and I headed out across Green Park, braving the few minutes of drizzle, and I have now seen 26 ellies. I fully intend to see as many as I can (perhaps not the one in Brixton for instance).
I love it. I love the cleverness of the scheme. Everyone is talking about it - the word is out.
so here are the first few ellies. ....
Friday, 4 June 2010
on creativity
some people are just amazing.
someone I went to school with is now living in the Land of Oz, and has started her own clothing /design amazing company. it's personalised clothing for kids - with letters and pictures linked to the phonetic sounds of each letter. now she's branched into quilts, cushion covers.... i'm amazed. Not only does she hand make it all but she's even designed the fabrics herself.
and with all this busyness and travelling and sewing and printing .... she still manages to be an awesome mum with a happy, smily little boy.
How do you do it???
check it out.... Mm is for me
someone I went to school with is now living in the Land of Oz, and has started her own clothing /design amazing company. it's personalised clothing for kids - with letters and pictures linked to the phonetic sounds of each letter. now she's branched into quilts, cushion covers.... i'm amazed. Not only does she hand make it all but she's even designed the fabrics herself.
and with all this busyness and travelling and sewing and printing .... she still manages to be an awesome mum with a happy, smily little boy.
How do you do it???
check it out.... Mm is for me
Tuesday, 1 June 2010
uh-oh
so after having a sweet chatty conversation with a friend of mine's 15 year old it came out that she really covets the blankie I made before. She pointed out that she's never actually had a blanket and all her special things had to be sorted through when they moved here (from Zim, as did I) and most had to be left behind. I became weary - but am also aware how much she and her sister are finding life hard here, how they are viewed as just too different to form easy friendships.
and then I found myself offering to make a blankie for each of them. The 15 year old was suitably quiet for a few secs and said "would you really?" followed closely by "it will be loved forever."
so there it is...another 2 blankets although i have already said that they will not be as big as the last one, and that they will not be with them any time soon. and they both squealed and thanked me.
one wants hers in black, white and pink with hearts but nothing too complicated.
the other asked for a mix-and-match of all my left over colours and just plain squares with maybe a heart in each corner.
some people are so easy to do things for. And these two girls have come from a place where they were popular, loved for their vitality and charisma. They grew up in sun, with space. Their parents worked good jobs and they had the stuff they needed and more. And they made the decision to move here to the UK so that the girls could go to university and could have all the opportunities they deserved. I agree with their decision and as much as I talk about heading back - I don't have children and so don't need to worry about their futures. And now the girls are viewed as different and, for the most part, shunned socially. The parts of them that made them interesting and fun at home, make them isolated here.
and despite being teenagers, with all the hormone imbalances that brings, they are both calm and sparkly and have beautiful souls. They're finding it hard but they will be perfect, inspirational, vivacious, talented adults.
but for now, i get to make them blankets to make them feel that little bit more special.
have I just talked myself into another huge project?
and then I found myself offering to make a blankie for each of them. The 15 year old was suitably quiet for a few secs and said "would you really?" followed closely by "it will be loved forever."
so there it is...another 2 blankets although i have already said that they will not be as big as the last one, and that they will not be with them any time soon. and they both squealed and thanked me.
one wants hers in black, white and pink with hearts but nothing too complicated.
the other asked for a mix-and-match of all my left over colours and just plain squares with maybe a heart in each corner.
some people are so easy to do things for. And these two girls have come from a place where they were popular, loved for their vitality and charisma. They grew up in sun, with space. Their parents worked good jobs and they had the stuff they needed and more. And they made the decision to move here to the UK so that the girls could go to university and could have all the opportunities they deserved. I agree with their decision and as much as I talk about heading back - I don't have children and so don't need to worry about their futures. And now the girls are viewed as different and, for the most part, shunned socially. The parts of them that made them interesting and fun at home, make them isolated here.
and despite being teenagers, with all the hormone imbalances that brings, they are both calm and sparkly and have beautiful souls. They're finding it hard but they will be perfect, inspirational, vivacious, talented adults.
but for now, i get to make them blankets to make them feel that little bit more special.
have I just talked myself into another huge project?
Monday, 31 May 2010
it all ends in tears....
today was one of those fabulous days where your sides hurt by the end of it. My husband was off work today as it's a bank holiday (no idea what the reason is) and I'm on half term anyway. the day started with me waking to the tinkling of a spoon in a mug.... ah tea. only he didn't come in with tea for me! he'd made it for himself and then went into the lounge to read his book! ha! the start of the dramas. I managed to put on a good sulk while making my own tea which had that brilliant effect of making sure that he did the next 3 fill-ups. It was the start of a seriously silly day.
We've had tickling fights, towel flicking fights, shoving ice in eachothers' jeans fights, called a truce and then tried cold hands on tummy fights. Then calmed down enough to watch a dvd but had to stop in the middle for more laughing and silliness.
and then, in preparation for the start of the terry pratchett movie (part2) we went to make tea and ended up trying to slip frozen bacon onto eachother's tummies. Only in the process I wacked the back of my hand on the metal grid of the hob. it went white and then red and hurt like all hell. Laughter between the tears. what a silly git I am. but he made me hot choc. mmm
so I'm settled down to watch Terry Pratchett, with ice balanced on my hand in a tea towel and a cup of hot choc nearby.
it's been a seriously fun day.
We've had tickling fights, towel flicking fights, shoving ice in eachothers' jeans fights, called a truce and then tried cold hands on tummy fights. Then calmed down enough to watch a dvd but had to stop in the middle for more laughing and silliness.
and then, in preparation for the start of the terry pratchett movie (part2) we went to make tea and ended up trying to slip frozen bacon onto eachother's tummies. Only in the process I wacked the back of my hand on the metal grid of the hob. it went white and then red and hurt like all hell. Laughter between the tears. what a silly git I am. but he made me hot choc. mmm
so I'm settled down to watch Terry Pratchett, with ice balanced on my hand in a tea towel and a cup of hot choc nearby.
it's been a seriously fun day.
Sunday, 23 May 2010
into the ether....
Today I noticed that I have those two little words at the bottom of the blog that say "older post". I have that many posts already? cool.
and still one, albeit reluctant, reader.
and still one, albeit reluctant, reader.
Thursday, 20 May 2010
complete
Finally - the blanket is finished. it's been a huge task and i'm not sure how much I like it. but I'm still proud of myself. (and just in time too - the baby shower is on Saturday!)
Monday, 17 May 2010
argh!
Today I had one of those really sad moments. I realised that my friend at work will be leaving. I've known it for ages - I knew when she was thinking of leaving and finding another job. But then she applied for a job, and got it (as she should have!) and it's been exciting and fun chatting about all the new possibilities, about her new future. It's an exciting, brilliant future for her and I'm thrilled. I have been the whole time...
Until today. Today at break time I walked into the staff room and her knitting (yes, she knits too) was already on the table. I sauntered through to the corner where the tea stuff is kept and she'd already set up our two mugs with teabags and the kettle was boiling. She'd gone back to get something from her classroom and I finished the tea, found the biscuits we like and settled down in my chair with my knitting... and she took longer than I'd expected. And I realised in that moment that she's leaving. Really leaving. And as fabulous and wonderful and brilliant as it is for her... it's incredibly sad for me.
we have an easy friendship - one where we can gossip about things, plot and plan stuff that needs to happen at school and talk about husbands, friends, books we write..... but we can also criticise each other and that is something I really value. We can be honest, nicely, and work with each other, and discuss things, and talk things out. I really appreciate hearing an honest opinion about what I've done. When I'm overly upset she sets me straight, and the same the other way round. It means that when she says "I think you did the right thing" or "I'm right behind you in that" I know that I can trust that completely. Because if she ever isn't she tells me so and explains why. And I do the same for her. We seem to talk every moment were together - from the moment we meet on the train to the moment I get off it at home-time.
but then today I realised, really and truely realised, that she's going. And my walks to school and trips on the train will be alone. And at breaktime I'll be with the other teachers - who are all lovely but who all have children my age! I'll be surrounded by people who smile and say "that's lovely" when actually they're thinking the opposite.
and added to that is the realisation that she and I, between us, run all the after school clubs for the older kids, we're the ones who changed the way things were being run and gave the upper school a bit of a jump start. I started campings on the field, she started the veggie garden. I started a craft club and she started a computer club. .... and now, next term, it will be just me.
and so I'm crazy excited for her, but miserable for me.
Until today. Today at break time I walked into the staff room and her knitting (yes, she knits too) was already on the table. I sauntered through to the corner where the tea stuff is kept and she'd already set up our two mugs with teabags and the kettle was boiling. She'd gone back to get something from her classroom and I finished the tea, found the biscuits we like and settled down in my chair with my knitting... and she took longer than I'd expected. And I realised in that moment that she's leaving. Really leaving. And as fabulous and wonderful and brilliant as it is for her... it's incredibly sad for me.
we have an easy friendship - one where we can gossip about things, plot and plan stuff that needs to happen at school and talk about husbands, friends, books we write..... but we can also criticise each other and that is something I really value. We can be honest, nicely, and work with each other, and discuss things, and talk things out. I really appreciate hearing an honest opinion about what I've done. When I'm overly upset she sets me straight, and the same the other way round. It means that when she says "I think you did the right thing" or "I'm right behind you in that" I know that I can trust that completely. Because if she ever isn't she tells me so and explains why. And I do the same for her. We seem to talk every moment were together - from the moment we meet on the train to the moment I get off it at home-time.
but then today I realised, really and truely realised, that she's going. And my walks to school and trips on the train will be alone. And at breaktime I'll be with the other teachers - who are all lovely but who all have children my age! I'll be surrounded by people who smile and say "that's lovely" when actually they're thinking the opposite.
and added to that is the realisation that she and I, between us, run all the after school clubs for the older kids, we're the ones who changed the way things were being run and gave the upper school a bit of a jump start. I started campings on the field, she started the veggie garden. I started a craft club and she started a computer club. .... and now, next term, it will be just me.
and so I'm crazy excited for her, but miserable for me.
Sunday, 9 May 2010
progress...
one more stripe to go... and then neatening the backs of each stripe, and then sewing them together, and then crocheting the border. Actually I still have a long way to go... and the baby shower is in 2 weeks. gulp!
Saturday, 8 May 2010
on being 30
No issues have emerged apart from the realisation that 5 years ago I used to have good muscle tone, was strangely sports-oriented and was rather fit - managing to run 5km without worry (and used to do so two mornings a week with the cross country team at school.)
now.... only a mere 5 years later i have realised that muscles, a flat tummy and the ability to put my hands flat on the floor with my feet together and legs straight...... are a far off memory!
and so i have decided that being 30 is the year for me. totally, selfishly me. (let's see how long that lasts!)
so - I'm going to go back to crazy exercise. I shall have bubble baths and I will get my body back to where I want it.
I sigh and realised that I do this every year. And every year I give in to reading in bed, knitting infront of tv and pondering the fact that my clothes seem to shrink....
watch this space!
now.... only a mere 5 years later i have realised that muscles, a flat tummy and the ability to put my hands flat on the floor with my feet together and legs straight...... are a far off memory!
and so i have decided that being 30 is the year for me. totally, selfishly me. (let's see how long that lasts!)
so - I'm going to go back to crazy exercise. I shall have bubble baths and I will get my body back to where I want it.
I sigh and realised that I do this every year. And every year I give in to reading in bed, knitting infront of tv and pondering the fact that my clothes seem to shrink....
watch this space!
Wednesday, 5 May 2010
On turning 30...
a couple of weeks ago I turned 30. I had prepared myself for huge issues - getting older, not having achieved anything on my list of "Things to do before I Turn 30" (apart from get married to the man of my dreams! - can you tell the list was written when I was about 15?)
I never take much stock in birthdays - I spend ages before hand shrugging my shoulders at friends who want to know if I'm doing anything, and asking what I want.....
And so this year, being the big 3-0, I decided to make more of a deal about it.
Phone best friend, ask whether she's free on weekend before or after said birthday. She's busy on both - dinner and babysitting The Nephew.
Phone friend number 2, same questions. She hadn't thought I'd be doing anything so they'd made other plans.
So I quit phoning people!
Enter issues. Nobody loves me, it's my BIG birthday and no-one kept the date.
Enter husband: Why should people make plans for this one when you never do in any other year...
he had a point!
so I gave up on birthday plans. I would issue about it all by myself! I would celebrate quietly with a glass of wine, a good book and a deep bubble bath. I would be one of those amazing free spirited women who doesn't mind about These Things. I would be Grown Up about it all.
Only the husband had other plans. I was told to be dressed up on the day of my birthday and he whisked me off to see WarHorse (which I had been trying to get tickets to for ages) and at interval he'd organised champagne for us. I loved every moment of the evening.
The weekend hit and I started issuing again about No Friends Having Kept The Weekend Free. He reiterated his previous arguement and offered to take me to dinner and a movie. Dinner at Ninos - my bestest restaurant ever!
It was quiet - except for the roudy crowd in the corner.
second glance at the crowd - looking very familiar
Third, rather long hard look, thinking "what are that lot doing here?"
wait for it....
"bing" light bulb!
it was fabulous - they'd all come - all of them. My husband had organised it two months ahead, as it turned out, and it was brilliant. Lots of chatter, great great food, lots of laughing. And then the waiters brought out a cake with "HB" written on it in cream - assuming happy birthday! lovely!
and then, (there was more), when we got home, he handed me a rolled up wad of paper with a ribbon.... letters from my family - cousins, aunts and uncles, parents and my little brother! I read them while sitting on the livingroom floor crying. They were beautiful letters. They were letters of love, of promise, of inspiration. They were letters that filled me and strengthened me.I know some truely amazing people.
And my husband had quietly and carefully planned it all. I had the most special birthday possible and behind it all was this smiling, loving man who had known exactly what I needed. How lucky am I that not only am I married to the man of my dreams (tick the list!) but he knows me that well and loves me that much.
And so, with confidence, I have crossed out the 3 on the title of the list, and replaced it with a 4.
Here's to another ten years. Perhaps I'll get to tick off some other stuff....
I never take much stock in birthdays - I spend ages before hand shrugging my shoulders at friends who want to know if I'm doing anything, and asking what I want.....
And so this year, being the big 3-0, I decided to make more of a deal about it.
Phone best friend, ask whether she's free on weekend before or after said birthday. She's busy on both - dinner and babysitting The Nephew.
Phone friend number 2, same questions. She hadn't thought I'd be doing anything so they'd made other plans.
So I quit phoning people!
Enter issues. Nobody loves me, it's my BIG birthday and no-one kept the date.
Enter husband: Why should people make plans for this one when you never do in any other year...
he had a point!
so I gave up on birthday plans. I would issue about it all by myself! I would celebrate quietly with a glass of wine, a good book and a deep bubble bath. I would be one of those amazing free spirited women who doesn't mind about These Things. I would be Grown Up about it all.
Only the husband had other plans. I was told to be dressed up on the day of my birthday and he whisked me off to see WarHorse (which I had been trying to get tickets to for ages) and at interval he'd organised champagne for us. I loved every moment of the evening.
The weekend hit and I started issuing again about No Friends Having Kept The Weekend Free. He reiterated his previous arguement and offered to take me to dinner and a movie. Dinner at Ninos - my bestest restaurant ever!
It was quiet - except for the roudy crowd in the corner.
second glance at the crowd - looking very familiar
Third, rather long hard look, thinking "what are that lot doing here?"
wait for it....
"bing" light bulb!
it was fabulous - they'd all come - all of them. My husband had organised it two months ahead, as it turned out, and it was brilliant. Lots of chatter, great great food, lots of laughing. And then the waiters brought out a cake with "HB" written on it in cream - assuming happy birthday! lovely!
and then, (there was more), when we got home, he handed me a rolled up wad of paper with a ribbon.... letters from my family - cousins, aunts and uncles, parents and my little brother! I read them while sitting on the livingroom floor crying. They were beautiful letters. They were letters of love, of promise, of inspiration. They were letters that filled me and strengthened me.I know some truely amazing people.
And my husband had quietly and carefully planned it all. I had the most special birthday possible and behind it all was this smiling, loving man who had known exactly what I needed. How lucky am I that not only am I married to the man of my dreams (tick the list!) but he knows me that well and loves me that much.
And so, with confidence, I have crossed out the 3 on the title of the list, and replaced it with a 4.
Here's to another ten years. Perhaps I'll get to tick off some other stuff....
Monday, 3 May 2010
friend
so yesterday I drove for an hour to MK to visit my friend. She's one of those people you just admire and love and think the world of. She's a great believer in "sucking it up" and even though the universe has thrown a seriously crap set of dice for her, she smiles, and laughs and takes such joy in things.
a couple of years ago she was diagnosed with MS - her skin itches all the time unless she remembers to take a pill at the right time. And every day she injects herself in sensitive spots around her arms, legs and tummy with some magic stuff that's meant to slow the MS, but may have other long term effects but who knows for sure?
She's had a string of awful jobs, living in a house share with a couple fondly known as Cock and Cock's girlfriend - who seem to scream and swear and yell at eachother non-stop.
But yesterday we walked round a park near her new, fab job. We watched the birds, talked about how good things are and where we're headed. We wandered into Waterstone's and inevitably bought books (we seem to do that every time we see eachother!) and had tea and lunch. She squealed with delight when we spotted some fungi- she immediately took photos and then we hunched over her fungi book to try to figure out what we'd found!
She smiles, helps out, smiles, rejoices in sunshine, smiles, laughs and sprouts some seriously funny jokes, which I can never remember long enough to repeat! She spends days braving wind and rain at car boot sales to help raise money for her sister and brother in law. She counts out the last of her salary and buys her nephew presents.
She is the strongest, bravest, most determined woman I know. And I left her yesterday rejoicing in the sunshine, the fields of yellow mustard rape, and thinking about how lucky we are to know her.
a couple of years ago she was diagnosed with MS - her skin itches all the time unless she remembers to take a pill at the right time. And every day she injects herself in sensitive spots around her arms, legs and tummy with some magic stuff that's meant to slow the MS, but may have other long term effects but who knows for sure?
She's had a string of awful jobs, living in a house share with a couple fondly known as Cock and Cock's girlfriend - who seem to scream and swear and yell at eachother non-stop.
But yesterday we walked round a park near her new, fab job. We watched the birds, talked about how good things are and where we're headed. We wandered into Waterstone's and inevitably bought books (we seem to do that every time we see eachother!) and had tea and lunch. She squealed with delight when we spotted some fungi- she immediately took photos and then we hunched over her fungi book to try to figure out what we'd found!
She smiles, helps out, smiles, rejoices in sunshine, smiles, laughs and sprouts some seriously funny jokes, which I can never remember long enough to repeat! She spends days braving wind and rain at car boot sales to help raise money for her sister and brother in law. She counts out the last of her salary and buys her nephew presents.
She is the strongest, bravest, most determined woman I know. And I left her yesterday rejoicing in the sunshine, the fields of yellow mustard rape, and thinking about how lucky we are to know her.
Tuesday, 20 April 2010
three years ago (part1)
three years ago today...
the day before....
there was much hype. The chapel had been decked out beautifully with the most amazing flowers, the order of services all complete and ready. The pavillion was almost complete - the tables in the right place, the fairy lights strung up at the entrance and in the tree outside, all the menus ready with the place settings, glasses, table cloths, candles all waiting for the start of the new day.
My husband-to-be was with his family and friends in the hostel - having drinks, chats, playing music and catching up.
I was at home, snuggled in the power-cut dark with my mum, aunt, my beautiful bridesmaid and my mum-in-law. The candle light made everything feel even more surreal. Dad had made himself scarce - begging a headache. And then my cousin, my bridesmaid, gave me a book. She'd bought an amazing book made from hand made paper, and had filled it with letters to me from all the important women in my life. I read it quietly and then cried at the beauty of it all, the wisdom.
My mum's was the first letter... so amazing.
Thank you for You. You have filled our lives in ways we could never have imagined 27 years ago and I love you beyond words.
This is a life changing moment in your life. Step into it with the confidence of knowing that you have made the right decision. Nuture it with patience,. care and understanding. Keep it bouyant with enthusiasm, resilience and excitement and temper everything you do with love.
Enjoy your journey with Austin. Get strength from your roots but grow and reach for the stars.
love you
- mum.
I don't know how many times I've read this but I still am amazed at the awesomeness of my mum.
Other people filled in plenty of great notes:
"What an adventure you're about to embark on! Full of love, life, laughter, tears, memories, hopes, frustrations, perseverence and everyting that makes life fulfilling...."
"There is no doubt in my mind that your open heart and absolute kindness and ability to learn from anyone and anything will make this work. You are a powerful woman in a quiet and solid way - a way that will help you always find a beautiful place to place your feet and stand tall. Austin is one of those places and he is a beautiful gem that we welcome into our family and our hearts..."
" Write all your important dates on a calendar and hang it near the loo - so much easier than getting over your anger if he forgets...."
and a passage from my mum-in-law...
"In your married life you will have ups and downs. Life does consist of both rain and sunshine. But you and Austin stand together as Us and We and am sure that everything will be fine."
I felt amazingly lucky. I still do. It was a beautiful evening.
the day before....
there was much hype. The chapel had been decked out beautifully with the most amazing flowers, the order of services all complete and ready. The pavillion was almost complete - the tables in the right place, the fairy lights strung up at the entrance and in the tree outside, all the menus ready with the place settings, glasses, table cloths, candles all waiting for the start of the new day.
My husband-to-be was with his family and friends in the hostel - having drinks, chats, playing music and catching up.
I was at home, snuggled in the power-cut dark with my mum, aunt, my beautiful bridesmaid and my mum-in-law. The candle light made everything feel even more surreal. Dad had made himself scarce - begging a headache. And then my cousin, my bridesmaid, gave me a book. She'd bought an amazing book made from hand made paper, and had filled it with letters to me from all the important women in my life. I read it quietly and then cried at the beauty of it all, the wisdom.
My mum's was the first letter... so amazing.
Thank you for You. You have filled our lives in ways we could never have imagined 27 years ago and I love you beyond words.
This is a life changing moment in your life. Step into it with the confidence of knowing that you have made the right decision. Nuture it with patience,. care and understanding. Keep it bouyant with enthusiasm, resilience and excitement and temper everything you do with love.
Enjoy your journey with Austin. Get strength from your roots but grow and reach for the stars.
love you
- mum.
I don't know how many times I've read this but I still am amazed at the awesomeness of my mum.
Other people filled in plenty of great notes:
"What an adventure you're about to embark on! Full of love, life, laughter, tears, memories, hopes, frustrations, perseverence and everyting that makes life fulfilling...."
"There is no doubt in my mind that your open heart and absolute kindness and ability to learn from anyone and anything will make this work. You are a powerful woman in a quiet and solid way - a way that will help you always find a beautiful place to place your feet and stand tall. Austin is one of those places and he is a beautiful gem that we welcome into our family and our hearts..."
" Write all your important dates on a calendar and hang it near the loo - so much easier than getting over your anger if he forgets...."
and a passage from my mum-in-law...
"In your married life you will have ups and downs. Life does consist of both rain and sunshine. But you and Austin stand together as Us and We and am sure that everything will be fine."
I felt amazingly lucky. I still do. It was a beautiful evening.
Monday, 19 April 2010
April
I love April. I love the feeling of anticipation, the promise of something more...
At home, in the southern hemisphere, it was just starting to get nippy in the evening and early morning. The sun was rising just a tiny bit later so we'd hear the morning chirps of the heuglins, the louries, the toppies - in our half-waking. The days would still be baking hot and we'd look forward to the cooler evenings. April at home promised holidays, of evenings round the fire in the weeks to come. It promised cooler weather, mists in the morning, the crunch of frost on the grass first thing before the sun hit the lawn.
Now, here, it's the promise of spring, the anticipation of warmer weather just round the corner. The birds are back and making themselves heard. The trees are covered with buds - leaves, blossom. Daffs, blue bells, crocuses seem to appear in the most unlikely of places, .... Everything seems to come alive again. Splashes of colour emerge in no time at all, as if the flowers are afraid of missing the chance to grow in the sunshine.
I know that as we move round, find new countries in which to live and explore, meet new people, find new jobs, new homes, I shall feel unsettled for a while - for I doubt we'll be moving back home.
But perhaps, I shall always have April.
At home, in the southern hemisphere, it was just starting to get nippy in the evening and early morning. The sun was rising just a tiny bit later so we'd hear the morning chirps of the heuglins, the louries, the toppies - in our half-waking. The days would still be baking hot and we'd look forward to the cooler evenings. April at home promised holidays, of evenings round the fire in the weeks to come. It promised cooler weather, mists in the morning, the crunch of frost on the grass first thing before the sun hit the lawn.
Now, here, it's the promise of spring, the anticipation of warmer weather just round the corner. The birds are back and making themselves heard. The trees are covered with buds - leaves, blossom. Daffs, blue bells, crocuses seem to appear in the most unlikely of places, .... Everything seems to come alive again. Splashes of colour emerge in no time at all, as if the flowers are afraid of missing the chance to grow in the sunshine.
I know that as we move round, find new countries in which to live and explore, meet new people, find new jobs, new homes, I shall feel unsettled for a while - for I doubt we'll be moving back home.
But perhaps, I shall always have April.
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
Clickty-Clack
So I knit.
I love it. I love the silent contemplation, the time I can spend thinking about me, about my plans. I plot, scheme, day dream, conversate with my other consciouses.
I love the deliberations at the start of the project. What shall I knit, what wool, what colour?
I love inventing my own projects - ideas not entirely thought out before I start.
I love the moment when, with a contented sigh, I extend the project at arms length and think "damn, I'm good".
I am, at the moment, in mid project: one started when I discovered that a good friend of mine is pregnant.
"Oooh." I murmered (after all the usual congratulatory squeals etc), "I shall knit you a baby something-or-other. I shall knit you something gorgeous and totally un-granny-like."
and so I started The Project. A baby blanket. It's in cream, light green and dark green. At the end of each section i extend it at arms length and think "damn, I'm good."
only...
only. Only it's taking so long! And I'm clearly better with smaller, quicker projects. This baby blanket has become a blanket that will be 135cm square. And while some parts of it are easy, quick and effective, there are other sections that seem to take an eternity to knit. I have discovered a real dislike for cable stitch. And for the pattern where I have to have 7 different strands of wool out the back which constantly get tangled and twisted so that every 2 lines, regardless of how careful I am, I end up sitting with it spread out infront of me while I detangle.
And as of today - I'm only just half way through the knitting. After that comes the sewing up the strips. And then crocheting the dark green border.
It will be worth it.
It will be lovely to watch her unwrap it from the box (already bought) and green and white tissue paper. (already bought).
It will be lovely to think that it will be used, and loved and cuddled up in.
so I'll keep going but I am already thinking about my next project.
I love it. I love the silent contemplation, the time I can spend thinking about me, about my plans. I plot, scheme, day dream, conversate with my other consciouses.
I love the deliberations at the start of the project. What shall I knit, what wool, what colour?
I love inventing my own projects - ideas not entirely thought out before I start.
I love the moment when, with a contented sigh, I extend the project at arms length and think "damn, I'm good".
I am, at the moment, in mid project: one started when I discovered that a good friend of mine is pregnant.
"Oooh." I murmered (after all the usual congratulatory squeals etc), "I shall knit you a baby something-or-other. I shall knit you something gorgeous and totally un-granny-like."
and so I started The Project. A baby blanket. It's in cream, light green and dark green. At the end of each section i extend it at arms length and think "damn, I'm good."
only...
only. Only it's taking so long! And I'm clearly better with smaller, quicker projects. This baby blanket has become a blanket that will be 135cm square. And while some parts of it are easy, quick and effective, there are other sections that seem to take an eternity to knit. I have discovered a real dislike for cable stitch. And for the pattern where I have to have 7 different strands of wool out the back which constantly get tangled and twisted so that every 2 lines, regardless of how careful I am, I end up sitting with it spread out infront of me while I detangle.
And as of today - I'm only just half way through the knitting. After that comes the sewing up the strips. And then crocheting the dark green border.
It will be worth it.
It will be lovely to watch her unwrap it from the box (already bought) and green and white tissue paper. (already bought).
It will be lovely to think that it will be used, and loved and cuddled up in.
so I'll keep going but I am already thinking about my next project.
The animal person
“You’ve got fish?”
“yup”
“what on earth are you going to do with two stupid goldfish?”
“I don’t know”
“So why do you have them?”
“some girl in res was going to flush them down the loo”
“oh god, so you saved them. I suppose you’ve named them too.”
“yup.”
“don’t tell me – Tom and Jerry, Mickey and Mini?”
“Freud and Jung”
There was much laughter from the table behind them. They were having coffee at the new shop down the road from Ashleigh’s university res. Kate looked back and tried not to appear too puzzled.
“Freud and Jung? That’s not your usual style. Explain?”
“Freud has serious issues and swims at the bottom of the tank whenever anyone new comes near the bowl. And Jung spends his whole time racing round in tight circles so I’m sure he, she, it has serious problems too.”
“Ah.”
Ashleigh glanced at her watch, “Oooh gotta go. I have to get back to res before the warden gets back or I’m in shyte again.”
She stood up and picked up a huge black togbag.
“Ash, what have you got there?”
“My hamster. Maximillion the Holy Hamster Emperor. That’s why I’ve got to rush. If I get spotted with another animal there’ll be hell to pay.”
Kate groaned and fished in her bag for some money for the bill. “You’re a nut Ash. Just wait I’ll come with you and help. Better meet the issue-filled fish anyway”
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