Thursday 24th August 2023

School is back. The first full week of 6 o’clock alarms is almost done. It’s a more intense year for the boy this time. Important exams, decision to make, that sort of thing. How did we get here already?

We’re in that time of in-between seasons. Chillier mornings giving way to warmer days and muggy nights. Summer still holding on, but its grasp is loosening. I was working in the big polycrub this morning, and the bees were very busy - definitely a sign of the seasonal shift.

I haven’t really been inspired by the garden much this year. I’ve felt quite overwhelmed by it all, to be honest. Mind you, I have been very involved in a sizeable community project, which took up a lot of time in May and June. Then my visitors arrived and the holidays began, so I’m not being too hard on myself about it. Now that things have quietened down, I have felt a bit more motivated to get out there.

It’s not been a total loss - there are tomatoes and chillies ripening, vegetables and fruit are being harvested, flowers have bloomed and vases have been filled. I’m already planning for next season, as far as anyone can. Winter crops and biennials have been sown, bulbs have been ordered, and I have a to-do list I want to tackle over the autumn.

That’s about it right now. Life returning to its term-time rhythm. I’ve been reading a lot over the summer, and I’m planning a bookish post soon.

Today, in the potting shed, I finished listening to The Great Gatsby, perfectly narrated by Jake Gyllenhaal on Audible. It was a masterpiece.

I was sowing a tray of lupin seeds as the words of that closing passage drew the novel to an end, and I wept.

A week of Grandmothering

I’ve been busy since we got back from holiday. My two youngest grandchildren came to stay, and I had them all to myself. We didn’t do anything special or extraordinary, we just hung out, as they say. But it was so good to spend this time with them - that’s all you need to do, I guess. it was quite chaotic at times, relentless, even, but I loved every minute. Here are a few snapshots of our week.

All pretty normal, really - the kind of things I loved to do when I went to stay with my Grandmother. I indulged myself as much as the children - and that’s one of the secret joys of being a grand parent.

And now they have gone home - back to school beckons, and the house is quiet once more. It was a lovely week.

Just my type

I’ve been doing some mild decluttering in the loft. Nothing major, just going through the odd box or bin bag. It’s mostly old paperwork: bank statements, utility bills, empty envelopes (?) and bags of clothes that hadn’t made it to the charity shop. I’m just going to work away gradually as I feel like it, and hopefully I’ll have a much more usable space up there by the end of the year.

On one of my recent attic forays, I came across my mother’s old manual typewriter, tucked under the eaves, snug in it’s carrying case. Well, that was work stopped for the day, I can tell you. I brought it down, and cleaned it up. Surprisingly the ribbon wasn’t too dry, so I spent a merry couple of hours bashing away.

James was intrigued. “Where’s the return key?” he puzzled, struggling to press firmly enough to make a mark. “This is hard work!”

We had a bit of fun with it for a few days, leaving typed messages for each other, but I don’t think he’s going to abandon his laptop for the analogue life anytime soon. I’m really enjoying it though, and it now has pride of place on my desk as I ponder ways to integrate it into the way we live now.

It brought back so many memories: of my mother, of school, college, first job applications, and also, reminders of the “act” of typing.

I’m obviously a bit rusty - there are quite a few spelling mistakes and I definitely don’t think this would pass muster in Mrs Duncan’s class, but hopefully you get the jist. ( I’ve just noticed I misspelled turquoise - that sticky Q key caught me out!). And I remembered that to make an exclamation mark you had to use the apostrophe key then backspace and type a full stop! We must have been a lot less excitable in those days, lol!

Thoughts on Twelve

So, now he is twelve; my youngest of four. Clever, witty, handsome - slightly patronising in that way teens can be towards their silly bumbling parents, but he is the most wonderful company, and I love that I get to spend this time with him.

It’s been a hard few years - for both of us. This was the third birthday card signed “love from Mum” and it pierces my heart every time. Yet, as each year passes it becomes - not easier, but just the way it is. An ever evolving state of normality.

He has coped incredibly with these difficult years and we’ve emerged as a pretty strong team. I am aware that there are many challenges ahead - high school, teenage years, exams etc, and I’m bound to get things wrong. But I’m also confident that we will work through them. If I’ve learned anything about this boy in the last few years, it is to trust him to recognise what he needs - what’s best for him. He is the most self-assured person I know - and secure in his own sense of self. I hope he can hold on to that as he grows older, and I’ll do my best to make sure he does.

This weekend was a low key celebration - just the two of us. Some new tech, cards, facetime and phone calls from family. Later there was a wonky stack of freshly made doughnuts for a cake. Next week - a cinema trip with friends then out for dinner. He’s having a happy birthday.

Twelve years, twelve candles; they’ve come in the blink of an eye. I see the young man in him beginning to appear more and more these days, and I’m looking forward to meeting him. It’s one of those bittersweet parenting paradoxes - looking wistfully backwards while feeling excited about the future. But I’m just trying to hold on to the present - it’s enough for today.