I was hoping all weekend that I was not going to go down with the cold that my son seemed to have: and I kept telling myself that even if I had a bit of a cold it wasn't making any difference to how I felt. But I felt tired, especially yesterday, and also had a bit of a sore throat.... I was falling asleep over my book at 9.30p.m. last night.
I woke up this morning feeling worse and feeling very sorry for myself. I feel sicker than normal, which I assume is just because I'm bunged up. Whilst eating was the last thing I felt like doing it did seem to help. I don't feel like doing anything very much, my stomach is aching again (coughing feels as if it's squashing the baby) and my voice is croaky: just as I was thinking I really should do some singing practice because I hadn't for a few days.
I'm generally feeling very sorry for myself and worried about the baby (who is squirming a little as I write but who hasn't been particularly active today). These stinging pains I get in my upper stomach are probably just the baby pushing against me somewhere painful, or ligaments, or something, but I fear the worst: especially as I'm feeling a bit grotty anyway. I'm half tempted to phone the midwives in the morning but I'm not sure.
Part of me thinks I should pull myself together and go for a good long walk in the fresh air: another part of me just wants to curl up in bed and go to sleep. I don't think I can even be bothered to have a bath at the moment: our bath looks lovely but isn't in fact the most comfortable in the world (and also Husband has left dirty footprints in it from his post-run bath). Having said that I do still have some of the Lush stuff which Husband bought me for my birthday...
Maybe tomorrow. Maybe just now I'll put my pyjamas on and go to bed!
Monday, 25 October 2010
Saturday, 16 October 2010
BOOKS: AND WAR
I am ashamed of myself. I mentioned in an earlier blog post that I had read a book about Guernica, and how ignorant I was about the Spanish Civil War: I followed that up by reading Guerra by Jason Webster, an autobiographical account of living in Spain today and travelling round to find out more about that war and about its lingering - but largely silent - effects. I can highly recommend it, and as soon as I get into Carlisle I now have a 'proper' history book to pick up from the library about the war.
Not long prior to that I read a book about Afghanistan: my fear is that whilst that novel ends on an optimistic note, things may not be much better now in certain parts of that country.
I was then lent a book about the Nigerian-Biafran war, which I have not quite finished reading. This war occurred within my lifetime. I knew Nigeria was a troubled country: I knew that my in-laws were living out there in the late 1960s and that they rescued their houseboy (I wonder now how long he was safe for, and where they took him: was he Igbo?) - but otherwise again I have grown up in ignorance. I worked with a lovely Nigerian man, Tunde, at Brent Council: but never thought to ask him why his family made the decision to leave their homeland.
The book, Half of a Yellow Sun, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, is set in the 1960s and about a fairly small group of people: it largely centres around a pair of twin sisters and their immediate families (in the case of one of them, a white British man). There are parallels with Guernica: the story focuses on a happy family affected by events on a far larger scale than they can control or even necessarily fully understand. Racial tensions - and the omniprescent religious differences which seem to go hand in hand with them, wherever you look in the world - and economic forces again cause the war in the same way that in Guernica the Basques want independence and see themselves as separate from the rest of Spain (and in Guerra you are given the clear impression that Spain is in fact a collection of racially-distinguished kingdoms, and also the economic state of Spain at the time is more obvious, and why and how Franco obtained the power he did).
Obviously I had heard the term 'biafra' and knew it was connected with starvation, but little had I appreciated what was going on in that part of Africa in the late 1960s. The book states that the British are sending arms to the Federal government: reading articles in the press (a BBC piece about Biafra/Nigeria 30 years on in 2000, and an archive article from The Times written 10 months into the conflict), it is clear that we did send the Federal government arms, the Foreign Secretary of the time stating that he agonised over the decision and made the one he did because he felt a unified Nigeria was needed; the Biafrans grew to hate the British and it makes me wonder if they still do. How could we, as a nation, have been unaware of the bloodbath that occurred in Biafra? Similarly we stayed out of the Spanish Civil War....
Whenever I read a novel about a war I tend to approach it from a position of some scepticism: the author is, to a certain extent, bound to be biased. You expect that as in many ways that makes a better story than something well-reasoned and rational (and don't journalists do that every day, making mountains out of molehills very often: for example the possibility of doing away with free parking in Carlisle: hardly a life and death situation). However what saddens me is that going away and looking at the historical accounts, all too often it is clear that the most awful atrocities and hideous, senseless, loss of life does occur.
I am not, thank goodness, a politician: decisions about whether or not to step into conflicts must be tremendously difficult to take. But as a human being I am shocked again and again at how obscenely violent man can be to man. We have such beauty in us as humans, and can be so supportive and loving of each other: and yet we have this cruel streak as well which creates things like massacres, wide-scale rape, and concentration camps: just because someone has different beliefs from us or comes from a different blood-line. Yes, partly it's a natural, self-defence thing: survival of the fittest. But wouldn't it be wonderful if we could learn to negotiate and to compromise rather than to fight?
Not long prior to that I read a book about Afghanistan: my fear is that whilst that novel ends on an optimistic note, things may not be much better now in certain parts of that country.
I was then lent a book about the Nigerian-Biafran war, which I have not quite finished reading. This war occurred within my lifetime. I knew Nigeria was a troubled country: I knew that my in-laws were living out there in the late 1960s and that they rescued their houseboy (I wonder now how long he was safe for, and where they took him: was he Igbo?) - but otherwise again I have grown up in ignorance. I worked with a lovely Nigerian man, Tunde, at Brent Council: but never thought to ask him why his family made the decision to leave their homeland.
The book, Half of a Yellow Sun, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, is set in the 1960s and about a fairly small group of people: it largely centres around a pair of twin sisters and their immediate families (in the case of one of them, a white British man). There are parallels with Guernica: the story focuses on a happy family affected by events on a far larger scale than they can control or even necessarily fully understand. Racial tensions - and the omniprescent religious differences which seem to go hand in hand with them, wherever you look in the world - and economic forces again cause the war in the same way that in Guernica the Basques want independence and see themselves as separate from the rest of Spain (and in Guerra you are given the clear impression that Spain is in fact a collection of racially-distinguished kingdoms, and also the economic state of Spain at the time is more obvious, and why and how Franco obtained the power he did).
Obviously I had heard the term 'biafra' and knew it was connected with starvation, but little had I appreciated what was going on in that part of Africa in the late 1960s. The book states that the British are sending arms to the Federal government: reading articles in the press (a BBC piece about Biafra/Nigeria 30 years on in 2000, and an archive article from The Times written 10 months into the conflict), it is clear that we did send the Federal government arms, the Foreign Secretary of the time stating that he agonised over the decision and made the one he did because he felt a unified Nigeria was needed; the Biafrans grew to hate the British and it makes me wonder if they still do. How could we, as a nation, have been unaware of the bloodbath that occurred in Biafra? Similarly we stayed out of the Spanish Civil War....
Whenever I read a novel about a war I tend to approach it from a position of some scepticism: the author is, to a certain extent, bound to be biased. You expect that as in many ways that makes a better story than something well-reasoned and rational (and don't journalists do that every day, making mountains out of molehills very often: for example the possibility of doing away with free parking in Carlisle: hardly a life and death situation). However what saddens me is that going away and looking at the historical accounts, all too often it is clear that the most awful atrocities and hideous, senseless, loss of life does occur.
I am not, thank goodness, a politician: decisions about whether or not to step into conflicts must be tremendously difficult to take. But as a human being I am shocked again and again at how obscenely violent man can be to man. We have such beauty in us as humans, and can be so supportive and loving of each other: and yet we have this cruel streak as well which creates things like massacres, wide-scale rape, and concentration camps: just because someone has different beliefs from us or comes from a different blood-line. Yes, partly it's a natural, self-defence thing: survival of the fittest. But wouldn't it be wonderful if we could learn to negotiate and to compromise rather than to fight?
Thursday, 14 October 2010
WHERE WOULD WE BE WITHOUT FRIENDS?
I felt low again when I woke up this morning. I guess yet another very disturbed night's sleep hadn't helped; nor the fact that both children had wet their beds in the night and were in with me, and that therefore the washing pile seems to have doubled or tripled in size overnight. I'm also concentrating hard on the baby moving - including when I wake at night - as having been measured as 'small for dates' I'm getting a bit paranoid, despite the fact that both the other two were also relatively small, but perfectly healthy, babies. In fact I don't even think they were small at 7lb 9 and 7lb 8, but they'd be at the bottom end of the scale on the growth chart: and Daughter is still only 9th centile!
I think what I'm most worried about is money and it's been sparked off yet again by several bits of freelance work which I had hoped to get not yet having materialised, and by Husband's reverting to saying he should perhaps be looking for work in Aberdeen. When I was interviewed for Carlisle Living earlier this week they asked me what got me down the most, and I answered 'lack of money'. Sometimes it's a perceived lack of money, for example, when I was working, just before pay day: now it's the scarey fact that I may well have no income in 4 days' time, other than the Child Benefit (i.e. £123 every four weeks).
I felt so low I knew that sitting around on my own was a bad idea, and I sent texts to a couple of friends to see if anyone would come out for a coffee with me this morning. I missed aqua aerobics but lovely, lovely Running Friend A. and I had a good gas at Off the Wall in Brampton (and because I hadn't had breakfast I had a ham and cheese toastie, which was lovely but means I still haven't tried their gorgeous-looking cakes).
Running Friend A. always gives the appearance of being cheerful - and I'm a little envious that she always has the most lovely photos of herself on Facebook - and yet I know that she has her lows as well. She has every right to as at a very young age (mid-30s) she's going through the menopause, it appears. I think every woman, however positive they are and however many children they already have, must feel a sadness about not being able to produce a new life any more: certainly if they are the maternal type who always wanted children (I am happy to say that A. has 3 gorgeous, lovely girls and if my children turn out as nice as hers are turning out I shall feel I've done OK).
So we sat and chatted about everything: her hospital appointments, running, training generally, children - and husbands working away. Hers regularly works away from home a couple of nights a week and in fact she said that the house is tidier and the children are better behaved when he's away: and I know he's a great, hands-on Dad who has a good relationship with his daughters. Certainly one of the Mums at school, whose husband works in Chester, has said more or less the same thing: and when my Husband has been away from time to time somehow life - and the house - have seemed more organised. Certainly it would be one less person to tidy up after, and one less set of washing, but.......
I don't really want Husband to work away. I would miss him dreadfully. Lots of families do it and survive but I'm used to having him around. I think I'm worried on a few fronts: a) it would limit my work options if I was stuck at home full-time with a baby, though I could write while Baby slept; b) I still wouldn't be earning my own income (unless some of my freelance ideas come off); c) will it harm my relationship with my Husband or the children's relationship with their Dad?
I said to Husband last night that I think it's easier for the person who is away - he or she can go back to having a sort of single lifestyle during the week - but he said 'what, and that's preferable to being with the children?'. Well, actually, sometimes it might be..... I'm afraid I'm not a good full-time Mum and one of the great things since moving up to Cumbria has been that I've managed to work (and let's face it, even though I'm not officially working at the moment, I'm putting a lot of time into job-hunting, writing articles, trying to build up a freelance career....) and also pick up my singing again and get fitter. In fact I'm sure I mentioned in this blog very early on, just before I found out that I was pregnant, how satisfied I was and how I felt I was getting my own life back! When Son and Daughter were younger and I was working full-time, it was me who spent nights away from home - for work - not Husband. As he rightly says, in some ways I'd be better suited to working away than he would. Am I going to feel very resentful if he works away in Aberdeen and goes running and climbing and out socialising with friends he has up there and with his brother?
Meeting Husband and having children changed my life completely - in fact I would say I didn't fully realise how much until recently - but I wouldn't turn back the clock, and the children are only little for such a short space of time. I don't want to work full-time and be away from them for days and nights on end, and the idea of a freelance lifestyle when I'm not being managed by some idiot I have no respect for really appeals. The worst case scenario would be if Husband and I both worked full-time and the older children had to be in breakfast club and after school club, and the Baby in nursery, every day.
We have a lovely and very fulfilling life here: I just want some income of my own. If Husband works away in Aberdeen how long will it take before he manages to get a job back in Cumbria, albeit that I think the slight change of direction if he moves to Aberdeen for work might give him some useful and broader experience than he currently has?
I think one thing we're resolved on is that we don't want to move away from Cumbria completely, although we have thought about it from time to time: I'm sure there are schools just as good as Hayton, but both children are happy there and we're happy with the school. As they say, 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it'. It was maybe an 'omen' this morning that when I went into Reception the teacher said that whilst she doesn't like testing her class, she's going to do a Year One reading test on Daughter to see exactly what her reading age is, as she's storming through books like nobody's business (I'd be interested to know whether they can do something similar with numeracy as well). I don't think every school would bother to try to pay such individual attention to one child in a class of 29: but I'm also really impressed by the level of 'pastoral' care the children get as well. As the Ofsted report said, it's a school which produces confident well-rounded children, and that surely is one of the biggest success factors a parent can ask for.
I must stop rambling and being emotional. I know things will get better: in the last recession I chose to chuck in a well-paid job and go off to be a holiday rep. for several months. When I returned to the UK I was earning considerably less for about a year and a half, and then was in a job I hated and which wasn't much better paid for a year. But after that I got a job which paid considerably more, I bought my flat, and from there everything went upwards. I'm sure something similar will happen this time: and let's face it life can't be plain sailing all the time. If my children, my Husband and I and this baby are healthy and can afford to eat and to keep a roof over our heads, we don't really have much else to worry about, frustrating though it may be to have to think about what money we're spending. And if Husband spends a couple of years working in Aberdeen to make things a little easier for us, then I'm sure we'll survive. He'll need to spend a lot of time with Baby when he's at home at weekends though: I don't think it's good Fathers being away from their babies.
To end on a positive note: I reread some articles I wrote a few years ago this morning. I can write: I enjoyed reading them (and a magazine editor also said I wrote well). I just need to perservere, not give up too soon, and find an angle that every other would-be writer isn't covering. What's the motto from Les Visiteurs? That's it - toil, toil, never recoil (except I can't remember what it is in French, or Latin).
I'm off to have some soup and then into school for 'Family SEAL'........
I think what I'm most worried about is money and it's been sparked off yet again by several bits of freelance work which I had hoped to get not yet having materialised, and by Husband's reverting to saying he should perhaps be looking for work in Aberdeen. When I was interviewed for Carlisle Living earlier this week they asked me what got me down the most, and I answered 'lack of money'. Sometimes it's a perceived lack of money, for example, when I was working, just before pay day: now it's the scarey fact that I may well have no income in 4 days' time, other than the Child Benefit (i.e. £123 every four weeks).
I felt so low I knew that sitting around on my own was a bad idea, and I sent texts to a couple of friends to see if anyone would come out for a coffee with me this morning. I missed aqua aerobics but lovely, lovely Running Friend A. and I had a good gas at Off the Wall in Brampton (and because I hadn't had breakfast I had a ham and cheese toastie, which was lovely but means I still haven't tried their gorgeous-looking cakes).
Running Friend A. always gives the appearance of being cheerful - and I'm a little envious that she always has the most lovely photos of herself on Facebook - and yet I know that she has her lows as well. She has every right to as at a very young age (mid-30s) she's going through the menopause, it appears. I think every woman, however positive they are and however many children they already have, must feel a sadness about not being able to produce a new life any more: certainly if they are the maternal type who always wanted children (I am happy to say that A. has 3 gorgeous, lovely girls and if my children turn out as nice as hers are turning out I shall feel I've done OK).
So we sat and chatted about everything: her hospital appointments, running, training generally, children - and husbands working away. Hers regularly works away from home a couple of nights a week and in fact she said that the house is tidier and the children are better behaved when he's away: and I know he's a great, hands-on Dad who has a good relationship with his daughters. Certainly one of the Mums at school, whose husband works in Chester, has said more or less the same thing: and when my Husband has been away from time to time somehow life - and the house - have seemed more organised. Certainly it would be one less person to tidy up after, and one less set of washing, but.......
I don't really want Husband to work away. I would miss him dreadfully. Lots of families do it and survive but I'm used to having him around. I think I'm worried on a few fronts: a) it would limit my work options if I was stuck at home full-time with a baby, though I could write while Baby slept; b) I still wouldn't be earning my own income (unless some of my freelance ideas come off); c) will it harm my relationship with my Husband or the children's relationship with their Dad?
I said to Husband last night that I think it's easier for the person who is away - he or she can go back to having a sort of single lifestyle during the week - but he said 'what, and that's preferable to being with the children?'. Well, actually, sometimes it might be..... I'm afraid I'm not a good full-time Mum and one of the great things since moving up to Cumbria has been that I've managed to work (and let's face it, even though I'm not officially working at the moment, I'm putting a lot of time into job-hunting, writing articles, trying to build up a freelance career....) and also pick up my singing again and get fitter. In fact I'm sure I mentioned in this blog very early on, just before I found out that I was pregnant, how satisfied I was and how I felt I was getting my own life back! When Son and Daughter were younger and I was working full-time, it was me who spent nights away from home - for work - not Husband. As he rightly says, in some ways I'd be better suited to working away than he would. Am I going to feel very resentful if he works away in Aberdeen and goes running and climbing and out socialising with friends he has up there and with his brother?
Meeting Husband and having children changed my life completely - in fact I would say I didn't fully realise how much until recently - but I wouldn't turn back the clock, and the children are only little for such a short space of time. I don't want to work full-time and be away from them for days and nights on end, and the idea of a freelance lifestyle when I'm not being managed by some idiot I have no respect for really appeals. The worst case scenario would be if Husband and I both worked full-time and the older children had to be in breakfast club and after school club, and the Baby in nursery, every day.
We have a lovely and very fulfilling life here: I just want some income of my own. If Husband works away in Aberdeen how long will it take before he manages to get a job back in Cumbria, albeit that I think the slight change of direction if he moves to Aberdeen for work might give him some useful and broader experience than he currently has?
I think one thing we're resolved on is that we don't want to move away from Cumbria completely, although we have thought about it from time to time: I'm sure there are schools just as good as Hayton, but both children are happy there and we're happy with the school. As they say, 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it'. It was maybe an 'omen' this morning that when I went into Reception the teacher said that whilst she doesn't like testing her class, she's going to do a Year One reading test on Daughter to see exactly what her reading age is, as she's storming through books like nobody's business (I'd be interested to know whether they can do something similar with numeracy as well). I don't think every school would bother to try to pay such individual attention to one child in a class of 29: but I'm also really impressed by the level of 'pastoral' care the children get as well. As the Ofsted report said, it's a school which produces confident well-rounded children, and that surely is one of the biggest success factors a parent can ask for.
I must stop rambling and being emotional. I know things will get better: in the last recession I chose to chuck in a well-paid job and go off to be a holiday rep. for several months. When I returned to the UK I was earning considerably less for about a year and a half, and then was in a job I hated and which wasn't much better paid for a year. But after that I got a job which paid considerably more, I bought my flat, and from there everything went upwards. I'm sure something similar will happen this time: and let's face it life can't be plain sailing all the time. If my children, my Husband and I and this baby are healthy and can afford to eat and to keep a roof over our heads, we don't really have much else to worry about, frustrating though it may be to have to think about what money we're spending. And if Husband spends a couple of years working in Aberdeen to make things a little easier for us, then I'm sure we'll survive. He'll need to spend a lot of time with Baby when he's at home at weekends though: I don't think it's good Fathers being away from their babies.
To end on a positive note: I reread some articles I wrote a few years ago this morning. I can write: I enjoyed reading them (and a magazine editor also said I wrote well). I just need to perservere, not give up too soon, and find an angle that every other would-be writer isn't covering. What's the motto from Les Visiteurs? That's it - toil, toil, never recoil (except I can't remember what it is in French, or Latin).
I'm off to have some soup and then into school for 'Family SEAL'........
Saturday, 9 October 2010
POEMS ETC. FROM THE SWALLOW, THE OWL AND THE SANDPIPER
My thoughts today were directed towards the children. I have resolved to spend more time holding baby no.3 and not worrying about housework etc.: I also often recall advice I was given when I was pregnant with Son, which was 'they're little for a very short time: spend time with them'. I try to do so, but I am aware that it's very easy to think that you really should first just get on with the washing up, clothes washing, hanging washing up, sorting it out, cleaning the bathrooms, making the beds, hoovering.... especially for someone like me who hates clutter and untidiness. But what, really, is the priority?
I am conscious that every-so-often I need to think 'forget it: have some time with the children'. So here are some thoughts along those lines from people who express it far better than me, and also some stanzas about bringing children up, which tally with how I aspire to bring my children up.
from Children Learn What They Live by Dorothy Law Noble
.........If a child lives with encouragement
he learns confidence.
If a child lives with praise
he learns to appreciate.........
.......If a child lives with approval
he learns to like himself.
If a child lives with acceptance
and friendship he learns to
find love in the world.
Don't know who wrote this next thought:
I hope that my child,
looking back on today
Remembers a mother
who had time to play
Children grow up
while you're not looking,
There'll be years ahead
for cleaning and cooking
So quiet now, cobwebs;
dust go to sleep
I'm rocking my baby,
and babies don't keep.
Cats in the Cradle by Guns 'n' Roses
My child arrived just the other day
He came to the world in the usual way
But there were planes to catch and bills to pay
He learned to walk while I was away
And he was talkin' 'fore I knew it
And as he grew he'd say
I'm gonna be like you, Dad,
You know I'm gonna be like you.
My son turned ten just the other day.
He said, "Thanks for the ball,
Dad. Come on, let's play.
Can you teach me to throw?"
I said, "Not today. I got a lot to do."
He said, "That's okay."
And then he walked away but his smile
never dimmed and he said,
"I'm gonna be like him, yeah.
You know I'm gonna be like him."
I've long since retired, my son's moved away.
I called him up just the other day.
I said, "I'd like to see you, if you don't mind."
He said, "I'd love to, Dad, if I could find the time.
You see my new job's a hassle and
the kids have the flu,
But it's been sure nice talkin' to you, Dad,
it's been sure nice talkin' to you".
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me,
He'd grown up just like me.
My boy was just like me.
And sometimes it's not only our children we need to put tasks to one side for, but also our partners.....
I am conscious that every-so-often I need to think 'forget it: have some time with the children'. So here are some thoughts along those lines from people who express it far better than me, and also some stanzas about bringing children up, which tally with how I aspire to bring my children up.
from Children Learn What They Live by Dorothy Law Noble
.........If a child lives with encouragement
he learns confidence.
If a child lives with praise
he learns to appreciate.........
.......If a child lives with approval
he learns to like himself.
If a child lives with acceptance
and friendship he learns to
find love in the world.
Don't know who wrote this next thought:
I hope that my child,
looking back on today
Remembers a mother
who had time to play
Children grow up
while you're not looking,
There'll be years ahead
for cleaning and cooking
So quiet now, cobwebs;
dust go to sleep
I'm rocking my baby,
and babies don't keep.
Cats in the Cradle by Guns 'n' Roses
My child arrived just the other day
He came to the world in the usual way
But there were planes to catch and bills to pay
He learned to walk while I was away
And he was talkin' 'fore I knew it
And as he grew he'd say
I'm gonna be like you, Dad,
You know I'm gonna be like you.
My son turned ten just the other day.
He said, "Thanks for the ball,
Dad. Come on, let's play.
Can you teach me to throw?"
I said, "Not today. I got a lot to do."
He said, "That's okay."
And then he walked away but his smile
never dimmed and he said,
"I'm gonna be like him, yeah.
You know I'm gonna be like him."
I've long since retired, my son's moved away.
I called him up just the other day.
I said, "I'd like to see you, if you don't mind."
He said, "I'd love to, Dad, if I could find the time.
You see my new job's a hassle and
the kids have the flu,
But it's been sure nice talkin' to you, Dad,
it's been sure nice talkin' to you".
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me,
He'd grown up just like me.
My boy was just like me.
And sometimes it's not only our children we need to put tasks to one side for, but also our partners.....
Friday, 8 October 2010
WHINLATTER
Today dawned dark. That sounds like a contradiction in terms as dawn is necessarily when light starts appearing: but I'm sure you'll understand what I mean. There are days when it just isn't as light as it was the day before at the same time and of course it's usually because the weather isn't that great.
Driving back from dropping the children at school I could see a band of what looked like rain clouds, just over Scotland to the north: sitting in Jacobites (where I treated myself to a cappuccino and a bacon sandwich: then, because I was engrossed in my current book, a second cappuccino which was a big mistake as I felt very sick when I got home) the greyness didn't lift but neither did the rain arrive. It's windy though, so I'm sure some sort of change is on the way.
It's such a stark contrast to yesterday, when all the radio presenters were talking about an Indian summer and about the glorious weather we had lasting until the weekend. There's a lovely-sounding walk in aid of Macmillan Cancer care on Saturday at Grasmere/Rydal Water so I hope it's glorious sunny weather again for them. Getting back to the car after our walk it was 19.5C!
We walked for about 3 and a half hours: we had intended to go up to Lord's Seat and back, a circular route: unfortunately I hadn't anticipated how slow I would be going up hills, and whilst none of the hills is particularly big this was definitely an undulating walk. It will be a fantastic run once I'm back to running, as it's mostly on forest trails and tracks and the scenery changes from valleys with little hillside streams and minature waterfalls to open areas where the Forestry Commission has been logging, to narrower tracks running through heather. At one point spiders had been busy knitting the most intricate multi-layered cobwebs on to the heather bushes (I wish I'd taken a photo now): not just any old flat, almost 2-dimensional cobweb, but three-dimensional ones with depth as well as breadth.
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We didn't quite get as far as seeing Bassenthwaite (my favourite of all the lakes, I think: at least the one in which I most want to swim) but we could see over to Skiddaw, with tiny delicate clouds hovering around its top. Unfortunately by this point we were running out of time to get back, have lunch and then for me to fetch the children from school, so we took a few photos and then retraced our steps to the cars. I had had a meeting with a guy about teaching aerobics the day before: who am I trying to kid?! Especially as my aerobics routine is pretty energetic. Funny how you miss different things with different pregnancies: when I was pregnant with Son No.1 I wanted to be able to wear jeans again: with Daughter I wanted a gin and tonic: this time I'm really keen to get back into running, aerobics and so forth. I miss being able to run on the trails and up the hills and hate feeling slow and, at times, a bit breathless: it seems so abnormal. Husband said it would make me appreciate how asthmatics feel: and it's made me sympathise with London & Northumberland-Friend C's Husband who is now on oxygen and even so still walks really slowly. It's so good to be able to run whenever you want to, and to jump around for joy and so hideous when your body seems to be rebelling against you. My slowness and occasional breathlessness is minor and transient: it must be terrible to have it growing worse and worse and to know that it's never going to go away.
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Friend L. took a photo of me which I really like, and so will include here, but as it's from the front rather than a side view you can't tell quite how pregnant I am. The scenery had opened out by this point, getting on for the top: and spot the bright pink Oakleys which Husband bought for me for my birthday last year. I'm carrying a notebook as I was going to make notes of the route and write it up, but I was enjoying walking and chatting too much to do so.
Friend L, Ruby-the-dog and I then went to the Whinlatter Visitor Centre for lunch. What's good is that you can pay by the hour in their car park whereas at Grizedale you pay for a half day or a whole day: a real pain if you don't have either the right money or enough change. We agreed, as we sat out on the balcony in the sun skiing-holiday-style, that Siskins cafe at Whinlatter is reasonably priced for the quality and quantity of food you get. There isn't a huge menu as it's nearly all sandwiches and soup (and cake) but what you get is good. I still felt full when I went out yesterday evening, though it's not difficult to feel full at the moment with a baby taking up a large proportion of my stomach as well.
Driving home the A66 was closed and it wasn't totally clear why: just as I got on to it two Chinook military helicopters flew overhead quite low, which was a little alarming: I'm not sure whether it was anything to do with the road closure or not, which Friend L. later told me was due to an accident between a car and a motorbike. I hope everyone was OK. It meant I was 10 minutes late picking the children up from school, but fortunately that didn't seem to have bothered them.
Talking of school I have to brag a bit. Son had his reading age assessed at the beginning of term and has shot up from 6.3 to 9.3. I think the teachers were surprised: I knew he was reading really well but to hear it 'in black and white' like that, as it were, was stunning, and I feel very, very proud of him. Apparently his numeracy is good too, which is a relief as at home sometimes it's quite a battle to get him to do his times tables and so forth. He seems however to have grown up a bit this term and whilst he complained that it was all work and no play this year initially, I think it's actually doing him good. It can be quite funny how he tries to reason with Daughter at times and to be rational when she's at her most emotional and irrational.
Having seen Son's form teachers I then had a chat with Daughter's, whose first comment was 'she's a little darling'. Is she talking about the same child?! Yes, of course she is: Daughter is adorable and charming and fortunately saves her paddies and bad temper for home.
Having been out in the fresh air much of the day yesterday, I then went out to Tullie House in the evening for a talk entitled 'A Walk through the Axis of Evil'. The middle eastern meal prior to the talk was not, I'm afraid to say, worth the £8.50 we each had to pay for it: but the talk was worth every penny of the £8 that cost. John Pilkington showed us photos of historic buildings, innovative ways of irrigation, and stunning scenery from mountains to a desert which was, as he said, 'just how a desert should be'. He did a lot to dispel the myths of the middle east being a hotbed of violence and fighting and anti-western feeling: although having said that he steered clear of the southern regions of Iraq such as Basra and Baghdad, understandably. The talk and questions must have lasted about two hours but it passed all too quickly and was fascinating. He mentioned that he wants to go back before long and to go to Afghanistan as well, and having recently read a book about Afghanistan, I shall look forward to Tullie House's booking him up to talk about that (but will avoid any food!).
I rolled home far later than I had anticipated and then spent some quality time chatting with Husband. As a result I'm a little tired today, but yesterday was a lovely day and the slight amount of tiredness I feel is a small price to pay.
Driving back from dropping the children at school I could see a band of what looked like rain clouds, just over Scotland to the north: sitting in Jacobites (where I treated myself to a cappuccino and a bacon sandwich: then, because I was engrossed in my current book, a second cappuccino which was a big mistake as I felt very sick when I got home) the greyness didn't lift but neither did the rain arrive. It's windy though, so I'm sure some sort of change is on the way.
It's such a stark contrast to yesterday, when all the radio presenters were talking about an Indian summer and about the glorious weather we had lasting until the weekend. There's a lovely-sounding walk in aid of Macmillan Cancer care on Saturday at Grasmere/Rydal Water so I hope it's glorious sunny weather again for them. Getting back to the car after our walk it was 19.5C!I met up with Friend L.-who-I-used-to-work-with (henceforth to be called Friend L. or Friend L. and dogs) and one of her dogs, Ruby, for a walk. We met at Spout Force Walk car park and headed up into Whinlatter. The sun shone down, the sky was a wonderful bright autumnal blue and before long we were carrying our coats and still warm in tee-shirts and tops, looking cool in sunglasses (what is it about sunglasses that makes a person look cool? Is it the enigmatic way they hide your eyes? However I did see a guy in sunglasses in the middle of Carlisle on quite a dull day last week and he didn't look cool or enigmatic but just rather silly, as if he was trying too hard).
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Friend L, Ruby-the-dog and I then went to the Whinlatter Visitor Centre for lunch. What's good is that you can pay by the hour in their car park whereas at Grizedale you pay for a half day or a whole day: a real pain if you don't have either the right money or enough change. We agreed, as we sat out on the balcony in the sun skiing-holiday-style, that Siskins cafe at Whinlatter is reasonably priced for the quality and quantity of food you get. There isn't a huge menu as it's nearly all sandwiches and soup (and cake) but what you get is good. I still felt full when I went out yesterday evening, though it's not difficult to feel full at the moment with a baby taking up a large proportion of my stomach as well.
Driving home the A66 was closed and it wasn't totally clear why: just as I got on to it two Chinook military helicopters flew overhead quite low, which was a little alarming: I'm not sure whether it was anything to do with the road closure or not, which Friend L. later told me was due to an accident between a car and a motorbike. I hope everyone was OK. It meant I was 10 minutes late picking the children up from school, but fortunately that didn't seem to have bothered them.
Talking of school I have to brag a bit. Son had his reading age assessed at the beginning of term and has shot up from 6.3 to 9.3. I think the teachers were surprised: I knew he was reading really well but to hear it 'in black and white' like that, as it were, was stunning, and I feel very, very proud of him. Apparently his numeracy is good too, which is a relief as at home sometimes it's quite a battle to get him to do his times tables and so forth. He seems however to have grown up a bit this term and whilst he complained that it was all work and no play this year initially, I think it's actually doing him good. It can be quite funny how he tries to reason with Daughter at times and to be rational when she's at her most emotional and irrational.
Having seen Son's form teachers I then had a chat with Daughter's, whose first comment was 'she's a little darling'. Is she talking about the same child?! Yes, of course she is: Daughter is adorable and charming and fortunately saves her paddies and bad temper for home.
Having been out in the fresh air much of the day yesterday, I then went out to Tullie House in the evening for a talk entitled 'A Walk through the Axis of Evil'. The middle eastern meal prior to the talk was not, I'm afraid to say, worth the £8.50 we each had to pay for it: but the talk was worth every penny of the £8 that cost. John Pilkington showed us photos of historic buildings, innovative ways of irrigation, and stunning scenery from mountains to a desert which was, as he said, 'just how a desert should be'. He did a lot to dispel the myths of the middle east being a hotbed of violence and fighting and anti-western feeling: although having said that he steered clear of the southern regions of Iraq such as Basra and Baghdad, understandably. The talk and questions must have lasted about two hours but it passed all too quickly and was fascinating. He mentioned that he wants to go back before long and to go to Afghanistan as well, and having recently read a book about Afghanistan, I shall look forward to Tullie House's booking him up to talk about that (but will avoid any food!).
I rolled home far later than I had anticipated and then spent some quality time chatting with Husband. As a result I'm a little tired today, but yesterday was a lovely day and the slight amount of tiredness I feel is a small price to pay.
Tuesday, 5 October 2010
WHAT PRICE HAPPINESS?
My mother has always said I am generous: but it takes no effort to be generous when you can easily afford it, does it? Real generosity is giving something when you have little in the way of material possessions or money but you still manage to give someone something he or she needs, or really appreciates.
Good Friend C., with whom I had lunch in Newcastle, said I'd always liked quite a champagne lifestyle, and she's right. I love shopping for things and I love possesions and the items that money can buy: since having the children I have really missed holidays abroad, and going skiing this year was a real treat. But as I said earlier today in this blog, when you have less to spend then somehow the list of things you think you'd like shrinks. When I was single and living in my flat in Watford, with an extremely small mortgage, I felt rich. I did ultimately become happy as well, and I liked spending my money on myself as well as on my friends: but I don't think I've been any less happy the last six months or so and I somehow doubt that I'll be less happy over the forthcoming months when my income is likely to be less still. In fact compared with the job I was in until April, I'm a lot happier.
I'm sure I'll still get worried about lack of money from time to time, but so long as the mortgage and bills are covered and we can eat and pay for things the children need like shoes and school uniform, we'll be fine.
What has particularly brought these thoughts to the fore today is that at choir tonight my lovely, lovely Dutch friend gave me a secondhand baby buggy and car seat. She could have sold them and got some ,much-needed money for herself: instead, generous and supportive human being that she is, she gave them to me. The same applies to R-down-the-road: I have had stacks of lovely baby clothes and a baby bath and a bouncy seat from her, and again she wanted nothing in return. I have in fact just given her a car seat and a bottle of wine, and I hope I can find something that my Dutch friend wants or needs (I wish I could find some work for her). I shall endeavour to keep everything nice so that when I've finished with all these baby items I can give them back to them so that they can still sell them, if they want to, or so that I can hand them on to someone else. I've given loads of baby and children clothes away over the years but I never needed the money: these two women have given when they could have used the money themselves. That's real generosity.
I don't want to sound too slushy and over the top, but I think this is what fundamentally matters in life: friendship and sharing. I feel that at the moment I have only my brain, my voice and my time to offer people: but if that can help them then I shall give it. I would love to be well-off again some day and be able to give the children loads of experiences like skiing and going to Greece and France and so forth, and I'm sure we shall be in that situation again at some point: but meantime they are surrounded by lovely loving people and actually they lack very little, if anything. It was interesting that when Husband gave them the choice, they said they'd prefer to have him living here and earning less - i.e. fewer toys - rather than living in Aberdeen during the week with more money and toys.
It's all obvious, really, isn't it: but sometimes I forget what matters, and get too bothered about possessions. There are plenty of people worse off than us: at least we have a small mortgage. As my Dutch friend said, if she had to choose between poverty and freedom she knew which she'd choose: and she's quite right. Not that we're poor.
One of life's lessons which I jolly well should know by now was reiterated to me again today, loudly and clearly. We've had the spendthrift party time for now: let's enjoy the less consumer-driven time just as much, and start to appreciate what is really important in life. I'm sure there are people out there to whom I haven't been generous in the past, despite previously having the time and money, and I apologise.
Good Friend C., with whom I had lunch in Newcastle, said I'd always liked quite a champagne lifestyle, and she's right. I love shopping for things and I love possesions and the items that money can buy: since having the children I have really missed holidays abroad, and going skiing this year was a real treat. But as I said earlier today in this blog, when you have less to spend then somehow the list of things you think you'd like shrinks. When I was single and living in my flat in Watford, with an extremely small mortgage, I felt rich. I did ultimately become happy as well, and I liked spending my money on myself as well as on my friends: but I don't think I've been any less happy the last six months or so and I somehow doubt that I'll be less happy over the forthcoming months when my income is likely to be less still. In fact compared with the job I was in until April, I'm a lot happier.
I'm sure I'll still get worried about lack of money from time to time, but so long as the mortgage and bills are covered and we can eat and pay for things the children need like shoes and school uniform, we'll be fine.
What has particularly brought these thoughts to the fore today is that at choir tonight my lovely, lovely Dutch friend gave me a secondhand baby buggy and car seat. She could have sold them and got some ,much-needed money for herself: instead, generous and supportive human being that she is, she gave them to me. The same applies to R-down-the-road: I have had stacks of lovely baby clothes and a baby bath and a bouncy seat from her, and again she wanted nothing in return. I have in fact just given her a car seat and a bottle of wine, and I hope I can find something that my Dutch friend wants or needs (I wish I could find some work for her). I shall endeavour to keep everything nice so that when I've finished with all these baby items I can give them back to them so that they can still sell them, if they want to, or so that I can hand them on to someone else. I've given loads of baby and children clothes away over the years but I never needed the money: these two women have given when they could have used the money themselves. That's real generosity.
I don't want to sound too slushy and over the top, but I think this is what fundamentally matters in life: friendship and sharing. I feel that at the moment I have only my brain, my voice and my time to offer people: but if that can help them then I shall give it. I would love to be well-off again some day and be able to give the children loads of experiences like skiing and going to Greece and France and so forth, and I'm sure we shall be in that situation again at some point: but meantime they are surrounded by lovely loving people and actually they lack very little, if anything. It was interesting that when Husband gave them the choice, they said they'd prefer to have him living here and earning less - i.e. fewer toys - rather than living in Aberdeen during the week with more money and toys.
It's all obvious, really, isn't it: but sometimes I forget what matters, and get too bothered about possessions. There are plenty of people worse off than us: at least we have a small mortgage. As my Dutch friend said, if she had to choose between poverty and freedom she knew which she'd choose: and she's quite right. Not that we're poor.
One of life's lessons which I jolly well should know by now was reiterated to me again today, loudly and clearly. We've had the spendthrift party time for now: let's enjoy the less consumer-driven time just as much, and start to appreciate what is really important in life. I'm sure there are people out there to whom I haven't been generous in the past, despite previously having the time and money, and I apologise.
THE YO-YO (OR ROLLER COASTER) THAT IS LIFE!
Raining this morning - sunny this afternoon!
After last week's low, this week I'm back in optimistic mode. I emailed a running magazine with some article ideas and they think they may be a go-er: so fingers crossed. I am also trying to sell my story (the one about being old and pregnant) and it's looking promising: not a lot of dosh, but enough to be a bit of a bonus. I'm also awaiting feedback on two part-time job applications, which would at least give me some base income. One is in Waterstones, who I've long fancied working for: I'd love to be able to write some of those book reviews they put on their shelves and be surrounded by books all day (though I wonder how much work I'd get done. I can just see the scenario: a quiet time in the shop so I have my nose in a book: a customer comes up and I don't even hear him or her....).
Meanwhile people have been incredibly kind and we have been given lots of stuff for the baby, as I think I've previously mentioned. The only thing left to get is a car seat and buggy/travel system. I think we could have a car seat which didn't fit into the buggy, but I do ideally want a buggy which is also a carry cot, and which the baby can sleep in, especially when he's tiny. Like an idiot I completely forgot to go to the NCT sale in Penrith on Saturday, despite having been reminded about it that morning. But then I forgot the date of my own wedding anniversary not so long ago, thinking it was 26th rather than 27th August. I'm not sure whether it's pregnancy or old age. I had the bright idea, I thought, though of asking my parents for a contribution instead of David and me having christmas presents this year. After all there's not really a lot we want: I'd like the Oxford Encyclopaedia of Music and a music stand but I can do without other things on my wish list. In fact I haven't really thought much about a wish list recently: I guess if you know you don't have money to spend then there's no point thinking of things you'd like to spend it on.
The baby's been quite wriggly recently: sometimes quite firmly so. I'm waiting for a particularly firmly wriggly day to let the children feel him kicking. Meanwhile it's off to the midwife tomorrow to get a blood test done for my platelets, and then the hospital on Monday - I wonder if I'll get another scan?! Somehow I doubt it.
Son came home from school enthusing about Drama yesterday: he'd had a taster session at school and loved it. Husband had been suggesting tae kwon do and judo and karate, I'd suggested otters, choir and tennis: none were popular ideas but he's chosen drama of his own accord, so I hope we can stretch to some classes for him. Despite the fact that he's less obviously extrovert and noisy than Daughter, we've always thought there was an element of the stand-up comedian in him, so who knows! If nothing else it's good for self-confidence: I've always been glad that I did lots of public speaking and was in plays and so forth, right from primary school onwards.
Glorious autumnal weather now and I can see leaves just turning a flaming orange outside my study window. As I'm going for a walk with Friend-L-I-used-to-work-with on Thursday, I hope it will be as beautiful then. Cumbria looks its best in the spring, autumn and winter, I think: the colours and shadows are far more interesting than in the summer. In spring everything is bursting into new life and optimistic: now, in autumn, everything is turning golden and red ready to huddle up under a good old blanket of white snow when winter arrives, and for me there's a sense of wanting to cuddle together around a cosy fire as the nights draw in and the temperature begins to drop. A month or so and there may be snow on the highest hilltops: the children and I are hoping for a month of snow, like we had earlier this year: though not so that it stops me getting to hospital to give birth, I hope!
After last week's low, this week I'm back in optimistic mode. I emailed a running magazine with some article ideas and they think they may be a go-er: so fingers crossed. I am also trying to sell my story (the one about being old and pregnant) and it's looking promising: not a lot of dosh, but enough to be a bit of a bonus. I'm also awaiting feedback on two part-time job applications, which would at least give me some base income. One is in Waterstones, who I've long fancied working for: I'd love to be able to write some of those book reviews they put on their shelves and be surrounded by books all day (though I wonder how much work I'd get done. I can just see the scenario: a quiet time in the shop so I have my nose in a book: a customer comes up and I don't even hear him or her....).
Meanwhile people have been incredibly kind and we have been given lots of stuff for the baby, as I think I've previously mentioned. The only thing left to get is a car seat and buggy/travel system. I think we could have a car seat which didn't fit into the buggy, but I do ideally want a buggy which is also a carry cot, and which the baby can sleep in, especially when he's tiny. Like an idiot I completely forgot to go to the NCT sale in Penrith on Saturday, despite having been reminded about it that morning. But then I forgot the date of my own wedding anniversary not so long ago, thinking it was 26th rather than 27th August. I'm not sure whether it's pregnancy or old age. I had the bright idea, I thought, though of asking my parents for a contribution instead of David and me having christmas presents this year. After all there's not really a lot we want: I'd like the Oxford Encyclopaedia of Music and a music stand but I can do without other things on my wish list. In fact I haven't really thought much about a wish list recently: I guess if you know you don't have money to spend then there's no point thinking of things you'd like to spend it on.
The baby's been quite wriggly recently: sometimes quite firmly so. I'm waiting for a particularly firmly wriggly day to let the children feel him kicking. Meanwhile it's off to the midwife tomorrow to get a blood test done for my platelets, and then the hospital on Monday - I wonder if I'll get another scan?! Somehow I doubt it.
Son came home from school enthusing about Drama yesterday: he'd had a taster session at school and loved it. Husband had been suggesting tae kwon do and judo and karate, I'd suggested otters, choir and tennis: none were popular ideas but he's chosen drama of his own accord, so I hope we can stretch to some classes for him. Despite the fact that he's less obviously extrovert and noisy than Daughter, we've always thought there was an element of the stand-up comedian in him, so who knows! If nothing else it's good for self-confidence: I've always been glad that I did lots of public speaking and was in plays and so forth, right from primary school onwards.
Glorious autumnal weather now and I can see leaves just turning a flaming orange outside my study window. As I'm going for a walk with Friend-L-I-used-to-work-with on Thursday, I hope it will be as beautiful then. Cumbria looks its best in the spring, autumn and winter, I think: the colours and shadows are far more interesting than in the summer. In spring everything is bursting into new life and optimistic: now, in autumn, everything is turning golden and red ready to huddle up under a good old blanket of white snow when winter arrives, and for me there's a sense of wanting to cuddle together around a cosy fire as the nights draw in and the temperature begins to drop. A month or so and there may be snow on the highest hilltops: the children and I are hoping for a month of snow, like we had earlier this year: though not so that it stops me getting to hospital to give birth, I hope!
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