It's so funny reading the blog I wrote in the summer with the children away and me living the single life for a week; because the single life which one reacquires with the children in full-time schooling has come true. Marthe is now formally at school since, well, today.
Marthe and Hugo started school on Monday - Marthe became very upset and very angry and I thought it was going to be impossible to tame her to a life in the classroom... but low and behold three days down the line she is a natural. Has made very little fuss and instead rushed through Covent Garden on her micro scooter, eager to get to St Josephs'.
And Mummy? Miss Wilson, Marthe' s class teacher said under the row of paper plates this morning: 'oh let her do a full day, she was fine yesterday - go home, relax!' You would think this should have left me with euphoria, instead of which I feel tearful and lost. We are absurd creatures really aren't we? And emotionally so fallible ..
So I don't know quite what to do with myself. Housework? Sunbed? Confession? I know one thing I need to do is start closing my heart over to those individuals who've used it for a tester sample for their libidos of late.... Coffee.
Thursday 11 February 2010
Friday 21 August 2009
Is 4 on a Friday too early for a g&t?
So. about this time I should be on my knees with thinking of ways to keep my daughter happy for another, ooh I don't know, 4 1/2 hours, instead of which -
The house is eerily silent. No blurb of 'charlie and lola' coming from the sitting room, accompanied by the scratch, scratch scratch of my daughter's jumbo crayon on paper. No lack of sound, but the distinct sense that my son is still sitting in his room, currently on his 5 Secret Seven story. Vapidness. Emptiness. I still can't get over being here by myself. Both childen are having a lovely time in Suffolk with Granny and Uncle and I have , for the first time in a decade the time on my hands to do anything I want to. Anything -
Well that's not quite true; I have about £2 until Monday and my next giro. In fact if I'm truthful, if I had some money I would be on the next train to Southwold to see them (well ok Beccles, Southwold doesn't have a railway station.) because the tragedy is I miss them so badly and have this terrible though I suppose enhancing enlightenment that actually, I only need a couple of days away from them to feel my life is really rather meaningless.
You know those times you think 'why does she have to play in the kitchen sink and pour water everywhere in her attempt to do dolly's tea parties, when she won't set foot in the bath without bribery or physical coertion - ok I didn't say that..' well the truth is instead I am sitting wrapped up in a duvet watching 'Charlie and Lola' all by myself for company. How sad am I?
Don't think there haven't been offers by atleast 3 men to come and keep me company; but I have rejected them. More on that subject later.
As I walked into Windsor earlier, iPod in listening to Alanis Morisette singing 'Crazy', I suddenly had this ridiculous wish to be able to run across those now furrowed fields that lie by Albert Road, the road that stretches into Windsor from Old Windsor. To be able to run crazily until I could discover the answer I need right now to unlock my life.
I changed my job to get out of Gavin's remit - and ouch! what that's cost me. I then was blacking out so severely because of my hideous boss making insensitive and didactic remarks all the time, that I came to a very raw standstilll. I've had time with the children this last few months, but I am also painfully broke now, which I loathe. And moreover itching to take back my life. I do really miss sticking on stilettos (a cliche I know) and grabbing a non-fat latte and getting onto the 7.02.
So I am here, in my empty, though sweet 3 bed house looking out on the beautiful crown estate farm (where by the way, they had one of those lorries that conveys new cars, turn in with 6 brand new range rovers as I walked past- I mean?? I am a royalist, despite the Queen's great, great x a zillion grandfather being dreadful to us Catholics, but how many landrovers does a girl need your majesty?).
As I picked up tonic water for my g&t - I went to costcutters and bought the really cheap stuff I have to narrate, the very nice indian gentleman behind the counter asked how I was doing and I replied 'ok I hope!' I'm never very comfortable talking to strangers. His reply was to raise his eyebrows at me and regurgitate my quip:
'You hope?!' he smiled sweetly enough. I felt unmasked.
That's my life in a nutshell since 13 roughly. Hope. Terrible thing to say but I don't try to take life and use it I keep hoping the right thing will happen.
So. last thing. I knew 'she' would do something else. Gavin's wife is out to get me, even two years on.
It fascinates me that in the press, media, hollywood, the man involved in affairs is just wayward, naughty, needs reguiding and yet despite feminism, the woman involved is always a preying mantis, a scarlet woman... Does Lisa really want the truth of what this man said and promised and did to me? Is she trying to justify her marriage now which is presumably still falling to pieces over the gem of reason that except for me she'd be trimming curtains and planning their retirement fund?
I do think in truth that I may have a really salted cashew on my hands though girls; any advice?
;) x
The house is eerily silent. No blurb of 'charlie and lola' coming from the sitting room, accompanied by the scratch, scratch scratch of my daughter's jumbo crayon on paper. No lack of sound, but the distinct sense that my son is still sitting in his room, currently on his 5 Secret Seven story. Vapidness. Emptiness. I still can't get over being here by myself. Both childen are having a lovely time in Suffolk with Granny and Uncle and I have , for the first time in a decade the time on my hands to do anything I want to. Anything -
Well that's not quite true; I have about £2 until Monday and my next giro. In fact if I'm truthful, if I had some money I would be on the next train to Southwold to see them (well ok Beccles, Southwold doesn't have a railway station.) because the tragedy is I miss them so badly and have this terrible though I suppose enhancing enlightenment that actually, I only need a couple of days away from them to feel my life is really rather meaningless.
You know those times you think 'why does she have to play in the kitchen sink and pour water everywhere in her attempt to do dolly's tea parties, when she won't set foot in the bath without bribery or physical coertion - ok I didn't say that..' well the truth is instead I am sitting wrapped up in a duvet watching 'Charlie and Lola' all by myself for company. How sad am I?
Don't think there haven't been offers by atleast 3 men to come and keep me company; but I have rejected them. More on that subject later.
As I walked into Windsor earlier, iPod in listening to Alanis Morisette singing 'Crazy', I suddenly had this ridiculous wish to be able to run across those now furrowed fields that lie by Albert Road, the road that stretches into Windsor from Old Windsor. To be able to run crazily until I could discover the answer I need right now to unlock my life.
I changed my job to get out of Gavin's remit - and ouch! what that's cost me. I then was blacking out so severely because of my hideous boss making insensitive and didactic remarks all the time, that I came to a very raw standstilll. I've had time with the children this last few months, but I am also painfully broke now, which I loathe. And moreover itching to take back my life. I do really miss sticking on stilettos (a cliche I know) and grabbing a non-fat latte and getting onto the 7.02.
So I am here, in my empty, though sweet 3 bed house looking out on the beautiful crown estate farm (where by the way, they had one of those lorries that conveys new cars, turn in with 6 brand new range rovers as I walked past- I mean?? I am a royalist, despite the Queen's great, great x a zillion grandfather being dreadful to us Catholics, but how many landrovers does a girl need your majesty?).
As I picked up tonic water for my g&t - I went to costcutters and bought the really cheap stuff I have to narrate, the very nice indian gentleman behind the counter asked how I was doing and I replied 'ok I hope!' I'm never very comfortable talking to strangers. His reply was to raise his eyebrows at me and regurgitate my quip:
'You hope?!' he smiled sweetly enough. I felt unmasked.
That's my life in a nutshell since 13 roughly. Hope. Terrible thing to say but I don't try to take life and use it I keep hoping the right thing will happen.
So. last thing. I knew 'she' would do something else. Gavin's wife is out to get me, even two years on.
It fascinates me that in the press, media, hollywood, the man involved in affairs is just wayward, naughty, needs reguiding and yet despite feminism, the woman involved is always a preying mantis, a scarlet woman... Does Lisa really want the truth of what this man said and promised and did to me? Is she trying to justify her marriage now which is presumably still falling to pieces over the gem of reason that except for me she'd be trimming curtains and planning their retirement fund?
I do think in truth that I may have a really salted cashew on my hands though girls; any advice?
;) x
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