I am undergoing a very emotional stage of my life. One of my own making and one I can’t escape. I’m going to be leaving home, soon.
I think too soon, but we can’t leave the pad in London empty.
(I’ll show you that when we have completed, I don’t want to jinx it)
But its not much more than a couple of weeks and I’ll be gone.
And I feel, urrghh, anxious, for oh so many reasons that are mostly wrapped up in my children, husband and parents and a little about me of course.
Its complicated and it hurts.
But if I don’t take this wonderful opportunity and grasp it hard like a bunch of nettles, I will regret it for ever and a day.
I know I have done a good job, my boys are strong and kind and are venturing forth on adventures of their own, my husband knows how to use the electrical appliances and can cook himself a meal, so I will be leaving them in a good place, emotionally and spiritually, they are proud of me and routing for me and for that I am very grateful.
Its just me, I’m a bit of a wet blanket at the moment and its difficult to express it.
It will be fine when Uni starts and I will be busy, busy, busy and then it will be Christmas and New Years Eve will be spent cheering Big Ben in Trafalgar Square and then it will be Easter and then a year will be gone. I will have got used to the tube and the crowds and will know my way around and will recount long doggy tails of times where I was lost and couldn’t find my way around and how I was helped by some kind stranger. And I will tell you all about the exhibitions I have seen and cakes I have eaten and the beautiful garments I have made – warts and all.
And I know its going to be amazing and wonderful and I am going to see some amazing art and speak to some amazing teachers and it really is going to be amazing, amazing, amazing – its the UAL, the UAL for goodness sake. And the students, well the students they are going to be so buzzy, I am going to love getting to know them and their take on life and work.
And I am never going to be able to repeat this time in my life and I will look back on it and feel proud, that I actually did it.
But just at the moment, its like I said, its tough.
So even though I have got stacks to do, like start packing my life away, son no.1 took me to my very favourite place in the whole wide world, Crackley Woods. I’ve been coming to Crackley woods since I was born, there have been many adventures including watching a certain brother fall off a bridge into the brook face first and moaning like hell that we had to go home because he was hurt! And playing on hand made swings and climbing trees and building dens and hunting for chestnuts on windy autumn days and roasting them on the fire later. To be honest its probably been a year since the last visit and it felt like it.
We found this excellent den, with excellent climbing organised around it, very children friendly.
Including big children.
My proud warrior. (at this point I am starting to dance around a little begging him not to go any higher)
And me, I’m useless, I can’t climb anymore, I am about a foot of the floor, but it was still fun.
I loved the den part.
And we found this tree and it grew in a twirly fashion.
Which I don’t think I have ever noticed can happen before.
And this is my favourite spot in Crackley Woods and always has been right from when I was a tiny wee thing, I always stop and look and breath long deep breaths of peace and tranquility whilst looking at this pathway wending its way through the woods. As well as my family and friends, I want to take this with me as my favourite spot in my heart.