... Or so the saying goes.
2022 has been a vintage year for me (bar one sad loss that I'm still getting to grips with).
Hand on heart I'm not one for change. I like the comfortable falling apart worn slippers, the roads travelled, the familiarity of faces. So I understood perfectly why my 11 year old was utterly distraught when she had to say goodbye to her much loved primary school in July. The horrifically warm weather had put paid to a few of the school's plans, so she suddenly had her leavers' service on the same day as the leavers' show (where she played a resoundingly natural Peggy Mitchell) and then promptly left the following day. A day she declared as 'the saddest of my life.' I can only hope that stays true for the rest of her days as then she will be truly blessed...
Meanwhile Sproglet - (which seems an insane name for my now 16 year old) had to contend with GCSEs and then a long stretch of summer with absolutely nothing to do. That of course changed the minute I herded him out of the house, suit on, CV in hand, with the words: 'get a job.' He is now a cherished employee (so he tells me) at Costa coffee, where I am delighted to report one of his duties involves cleaning the bogs. Amazing. I also have witnessed him empty and change a bin there - something he has yet to do at home. Coupled with refereeing money, he had enough to spend when he went camping at Reading estival for 4 nights. He survived. Perhaps also as importantly, I SURVIVED this - although a fair amount of alcohol was consumed to make me forget that my first born was doing god knows what in a tent in a field surrounded by people off their faces.
The day before, he had held at our house an 'arts and crafts' day where with the help of his 3 buddies and my old schoolmate H, we had popped unbroken caps off water bottles and filled said empties with pure vodka. Another mother had made vodka jellies, disguised in shower gel bottles. Four bottles of shower gel carried in by a teen boy at a festival? Unlikely... The house was a hive of activity that I image was similar to bootleg stores during prohibition. One of H's 11 year old twins asked to to sip water from a bottle she found in the fridge, lest it be pure vodka...
GCSEs done successfully, he is now suited and booted and off to sixth year, to do A levels. I cannot quite comprehend that when I started this blog he wasn't yet 2 - and somehow in 2 years he will hopefully be heading to Uni... Where has the time gone?
This year began hopefully and ended up exceeding my expectations. Sproglette's school team won nationals at table tennis and bless her, she won Dacorum's Elite Sportsperson award from over 80 schools in the area in July (always a great time to sweat in a school hall for 3 hours). From April - July was INTENSE. Juggling two scripts, the last term of a degree, counselling for Rape Crisis and at school for a day, plus supervision and actually attending college on Thursdays from 1-7 meant I worked every weekend for 7. It was punishing. My whiteboard looked like the diaries of the serial killer in Se7en.... I thought July would never come. Then suddenly, it did. College after 4.5 years was over. Those people know me in many ways as well as my oldest mates - and here I was saying goodbye. My supervisor asked me: 'what will replace college for you?' I'm still pondering that answer. I passed my counselling diploma in August, fittingly hearing on holiday and duly celebrated. A string to my bow. Writing is keeping me busy, but hopefully I'll manage to do a bit of both. There is nothing quite so rewarding as helping someone help themselves...
Every week I still got in the lake with my mate KR and said to her - I will get to Greece. I am holding the thought of getting in that warm water. It keeps me going.
That warm water was worth waiting for.
Especially as one of the places we island hopped to ended up being right smack bang next to an abandoned water park. The stuff of amateur horror films - and yet, I had several beach coves to myself, with water so aquamarine, it was as if I had dreamt it. On our last day I went for a swim alone, drinking in the beauty of the place; taking a mental picture to go back there when I need to. Paros, you were perfection.
The summer was a haze of ABBA (My My!), cocktails, family and friends visiting, home made slip n slides, fishing in the stream and bizarrely looking after chickens. On one evening, I suggested a dog walk to a pub along our canal, where inexplicably two sets of Morris dancers decided to have a dance off. No fever dream I have had came close. Three gins later and I nearly danced with them. Three weeks later upon our return from Greece I ventured back to the same pub - only to discover - yep, those dancers were back for one last hooly. While my husband cried about one of the dancer's blind dog Stevie (as in Stevie Wonder) I found myself almost agreeing to join their group. Is there anything as joyful as a morris dancer? I think not...
And so, the summer is coming to an end. Sproglette headed off for her first day at big school today - the first time she has donned a skirt since nursery days... Sproglet advising her on skirt length/tie wearing/teachers... After the chaos of summer, the jam packed working calendar since March, the house was silent and I returned to my desk.
On it is a photo of me aged 17, in London visiting my older, much more glamorous and beautiful step sister. Her bright blue eyes shining, her white blonde hair flicked out, her face tanned and smiling. It was July 1990. We lost her on May 13th this year. Well, losing her isn't quite right. Cancer devoured her until there was little of her left. The last time I saw her she stripped and said to me 'look, this is what cancer does to you.' It is a brutal, humiliating, savage bastard of a disease.
So instead of mourning all the change in my life; fretting over the unknowns, the 'what ifs' - I embrace every single day. Sounds cliched doesn't it? I made a pledge to myself every day from now to Xmas, I'll throw on my trainers run out into the lane and up the hill and take in season.... I'll hurl myself into those cold lakes; I'll plan that up-coming 50th no matter the cost, I'll dance with those Morris dancers next time they appear in town. Because we only have today. That's it. The temperature may start to dip. The longer nights drawing in. Embrace it all. Who knows what's round the corner?
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