Monthly Archives: October 2010

Whoops

Driving to work this morning, impatiently observing the 20 mph speed limit on the clear Sunday morning roads, I mused on how different it felt driving to this current job than it would have felt driving to my old job under the same circumstances.
I had been lying quite happily in bed about fifteen minutes earlier, dozing gently, snug in my duvet, pleased to lie there in comfort waiting for my alarm to go off. It suddenly occured to me that it was clearly going to be a good day, graced with late autumn sunshine, as it was surprisingly light outside for half past five in the morning. Hmmm… half past five? How about more like half past seven???!!! I was going to have to shift it some to get to work for ten to seven!
Had I still been teaching, I’d have been kicking myself and utterly daunted, preparing myself for my boss’s irritation and my colleagues’ lack of understanding and grumpy sideswipes. But this was a completely different long drive….. because I knew full well what reception I would get. Not anger, not irritation….. just pure stick! It was a long long walk from the carpark to the front door. As one colleague put it, they had eight hours to make me suffer… or rather, they’d have had eight hours if I hadn’t missed the first hour of the shift.. as it was, I only had to endure seven hours of merciless ribbing and “penance”.
Who ended up making drinks and breakfast for her colleagues? Who ended up as the “volunteer” who ran alongside the children on bicycles when we went for a walk? And what torture…. who had a cup of coffee made for her and had to drink it and show total appreciation … despite the cold water, the tablespoonful of coffee granules, the red milk…. The rotten lot!
I love my team 😀 (Don’t tell ’em that!)

Spring cleaning

OK, so it’s a little late. Two seasons late. Or two seasons early, of course.
We’ve been spring cleaning at work.
And.
I’ve been spring cleaning at home too.
Funny how cleaning the carpets is such a good motivator – the difference between my light brown carpets and their dingy brown counterparts was so striking that I was even moved to… wait for it…. clean all the skirting boards and walls!
It’s looking good… or rather, it will start looking good when I can find the time to start putting things away properly – the things which accumulated whilst I was moving furniture to get at the carpets.
That might be a bit more possible once I get rid of one other thing. The Smudgelet. For a weekend at camp starting tomorrow evening. Then, maybe, the place will reach an adequate state of organisedness for me once again to invive people into my home.
I love Flylady’s definition of chaos. “Can’t Have Anyone Over” Syndrome.

A touching matter

It’s interesting, how touch has become so taboo. I can understand how it has arisen, but I also wonder if it is partly to blame for how isolated our younger generations seem to be, so insensitive to the feelings of others, so frightened of emotion of any sort except perhaps anger.
Why have we allowed things to get to such a ridiculous point where someone feels wary of comforting a child with a touch? Are our children really to grow up with the understanding that the only motive for touch is either anger or sexual? Is every kindness to be viewed with a search for an ulterior motive?
Today circumstances led me to hold in my arms a child that was not my own. The child, feeling my arms holding them secure, relaxed. We both of us benefited from the moment of physical contact.
What tears me apart most about “losing” my eldest son? Not the fact that I can’t talk to him, not the fact that I can’t watch TV with him or go for a walk with him. It’s the fact that I can’t hug him or put my arms round his shoulder, even feel uncomfortable taking his hand in mine on the rare occasion that I see him. And what I miss most about my parents is the sense of their loving touch. Tactile person, me, really. In fact, I so often find myself wishing that God had arms.
Difficult, I know. When a child or adult may associate touch with abuse, either physical or sexual, then the most innocent of hugs may have different connotations for them. And for some people physical contact is something which simply does not feel comfortable. But I wonder sometimes whether it’s just me or whether the world really is a sadder place when people begin to feel guilty or anxious about innocent touch and hold back from giving physical comfort to those around them.

How time flies

..when you’re having fun.
I can’t believe how long it’s been since last I blogged. Ages, it would seem. My conscience was pricked by a comment on Facebook. And now, after all that interesting stuff that’s been happening, I can’t think of a thing to write.

I am writing this in rather extreme circumstances. My lap isn’t really big enough for this cat so he’s holding on tight! The Smudgelet is cooking toasted teacakes and I am wishing I didn’t have to go out to Local Preachers’ Meeting tonight. Bleugh!

And mandatory training tomorrow…. bleugh, bleugh, bleugh.

So, think of me as I wrap myself in twenty layers of clothes and venture out into the cold, dark, rainy night.