It's a Winter Wonderland!

One of my very favourite things is walking Little Monster to school in the mornings, especially frosty ones like today.

Throughout the entire mile from home to school it was:



'Wow!'
'Look, mummy!,
'Look at the fence!'
'Look at the tree!'
'Wow!''Look at the horse field!'
'Walk on the grass, mummy!'
'Look at the bin!'
'Wow!'
'It's a winter wonderland!'



She started grinning from the second we passed Jubilee Gardens, where the rising sun had turned the frost covered park into a glittering, magical wonderland. The walk through Cherry Hill was simply marvellous -- I dare the grumpiest of Grinches not to smile in the face of such utter joy. I wish I had taken a decent picture, but I was too busy grinning myself and taking it all in.

Get into the Groove!

My sister came to visit recently -- we hadn't seen each other for about five years -- and upon being asked what I was like when we were younger by my new beau, she immediately said, "Oh, she is far more outgoing than me, she was always on stage when we were at school." Wow. I didn't realise that. She was right: all through school I was either in a play or part of a dance troupe. There wasn't a single year that I didn't perform in something or other. I haven't been on stage since... well, since I left university. I had appeared in front of the camera a few times since then, and been behind a mike, but all that happened before I was 25.

 About a month ago, I decided to join a dance class at 4th Dimension Dance:

"4-D Adults -- learn a routine in 6 weeks! There's a performance at the end but that's optional."

It was intended to be my weekly dose of exercise because I was getting none. I had tried Jazzercise®, Zumba®, Bollywood workouts, BarreConcept® (loved it, but it destroyed me!) maracas fitness (hilarious!) and various aerobics classes, but they were all just a little too exercisey. Maybe it was the repetition. Maybe it was too rigid. Maybe it was all too serious (well, apart from the maracas). In one case, I actually got bored about 30 minutes in. Whatever it was, they didn't really inspire me to do more than one or two classes.

So, 4-D Adults. I turned up about 10 minutes early, with Little Monster in tow. It all seemed normal -- there was a kids class going on and several ladies of about my age and older were milling around outside. I said to Little Monster, See? There are people here with kids too. 

Ahem. Turns out that they were the parents of the kids inside. They all vanished when class ended. Intrigued, I went in, expecting to see people like me.

O.M.F.G.

I had completely forgotten that adults include those who are not quite 21 yet.

Nary a lid was batted, for which I was grateful. I stowed Little Monster away with her Pipity Bag* and just joined in. I was warmly welcomed, so the shock wore off quickly.

The choreographer/lead dancer, Sara Ford, is the personification of bouncy energy. You cannot help but be infected by her sheer joyousness. The woman radiates delight: she is sunshine in a t-shirt and leggings, tripping the light fantastic as if the floor were part-trampoline.

The other dancers were spritely young things, all supple grace and slick co-ordination. They learned so bloody fast too! Whereas my brain was in a constant state of whaaaa? and my body protested at the weird moves I was trying to make it do.

Damn, I had a good time! Best 45 minutes of flinging myself around a dance floor in ages!

I didn't miss a class after that, and tomorrow, I shall be dancing with a small band of merry young women in front of the denizens of Ely at the annual Christmas Lights Switch On shindig.

Not bad for a 40-something desk-jockey.

My stage outfit

*More about that little gem in a later post.

On tenterhooks: grounded... but we are undefeated!

40 minutes of driving in a horrible drizzle, and nervous as heck. Alas, I did not pass the first time. But it was very close, and I do believe if it weren't for nerves, a sore back/leg, and mulchy roads, I would have passed. Damn those Cambridge roundabouts!

Still, I know what I am weak on, so more practice is in store. The weather is perfect for challenging the skills, and I believe I will pass the next time round.

Somewhat reassuringly, everyone else taking the test with me did not pass either.

Thank you all for your kind wishes, I hope you will continue to believe in me -- I'm a bit like a fairy. You keep me going with your kindness.

I will be driving by Christmas!

On tenterhooks: today we see if we can fly

Later today I will take my driving test. Oh yes, at the ripe old age of 43.

This would be the second time, but I count it as a first as the initial try was 22 years ago. I barely remember it and I am a completely different person now. For a start, I am sitting here with a bag of frozen peas against my back, as I seemed to have strained something just because I slept on a different mattress a couple of nights ago. 21 year old me wouldn't have noticed!

Back then, young Sarah was cocky, reckless and easily distracted. Those traits still remain, but they are now tempered greatly by experience. Also, this time round, being able to drive is a hundred times more important. In 1994, travelling involved just me and a backpack. Now, it's me, a backpack and a six year old. A much more complicated proposition.

Back then too, I was in student digs, lived in a city and could catch a ride with friends whenever I wanted. I barely had any possessions, and didn't do big grocery shops. Pretty much everything I wanted was within a half hour's walk. Why I decided to take lessons is a mystery to me now.

As to why I am getting my licence now? The driving need is my commute to work. Getting to the office takes 90 minutes by public transport and only 30 by car. I am unutterably grateful for the lifts I've received but that cannot continue. I love what I'm doing now so getting a job closer to home is a last resort.

Apart from the commute, being able to drive would open up the world for us: we'd be able to get to places that we couldn't go to because it would take too long by train or we actually can't get to by other means. Forests, beaches and strange places with intriguing names we've only ever seen on a map. We'd be able to visit folk in far away places! By golly, the places we'd go, the things we'd do!

Wish me luck, friends!

The Trouble with Texts

I'd been throwing myself a pity party. It was a good one, it went on for a couple of weeks.

I had been feeling... well, somewhat unloved, I guess. Recently, two people I adore said 'I don't know when I'm free ' when I asked if they would like to meet up. Those exact words. From both of them. Out of context, and without knowing the full story behind my relationship with these two, it would be easy to dismiss them, flick 'em the Vs and say 'Sod you, then!'

Intellectually, I understand, and accept, that they lead extremely different lives from me, and that if the positions were reversed, I am sure I would have done the same. Emotionally, I was having trouble.

So let's analyse why I should feel so hurt. I suppose, given how close we were, I expected somehow that they would value my company as much as I valued theirs. That if I was part of their lives, then I'd already be part of the schedule.

The brutal truth was: I am not. They are a part of mine, but I am very resolutely not a part of theirs. I merely orbit their "real" lives.

The key word above is adore. I do. I like them exceedingly -- that's the problem. I get too attached to people, which makes me vulnerable. I hurt easily these days.

It's remarkable how an afternoon spent in a garden with a kind friend can make a difference.

Marcel Proust said that people who make us happy are the gardeners that make our souls blossom. I am deeply, deeply thankful for those who are at the core of my life. They nourish my spirit and I hope I do the same for them. My life would be so much less without them in it. These are the ones I see every day, every week, every month -- the important thing here is that I see them. See, hear, touch, breathe the same air, eat the same food, share the same space. They are my real life. Unlike these two. Sure, our lives intersected a few times but all we really have are words on a screen and a few brilliant days.

The practical thing now is to let these two go from my life: cut the ties, say goodbye. But...  Today, I experienced a shift in perspective. Subconscious me had been percolating this for weeks -- I'd been so concerned about how they relate to me that I hadn't really considered how I relate to them. I finally really understood that relationships built from mostly text messages are like spun sugar constructions*. Light, delicate, and sometimes, breathtakingly beautiful, but oh so fragile - easily disintegrated with just one breath. Or one message.

I realised that I'd become too dependent on the medium to sustain my friendship with them. Just because they don't keep in touch as often as I want, doesn't mean that they don't value my friendship. It's easy to come to that conclusion but the reality is often not so.

My happiness is my own responsibility -- sometimes I forget that. I can't control how they act, but I can control how I react^. So, I shall re-direct my restlessness and energy to nurturing the friendships that occur outside my phone, the ones closer to home, the ones I can enrich with my senses.

I miss my two but I know the best course for me is to stop trying to get them to do what I want, that is, to be a more substantial part of each other's lives. Our friendship may wither away. Or maybe it will die down for a season or two, to be revived and blossom even more beautifully later on in our lives.

Pity party over.

*Or Doozer sticks!
^ Well, most of the time.

Three Most Excellent Days

What we got up to this Easter weekend

I am sat in the midst of the bombsite that is my living room on Easter Sunday -- Little Monster had decided to fling everything out of various drawers and my wardrobe around -- and feeling grateful for the amazing last few days.

My long weekend began with a tremendously fruitful meeting with a client up North. We got on like a house on fire, and I honestly believe this is the start of a brilliant working relationship*.

Business aside, my personal life has also been wonderful.

Every day that I get to go to work, I am grateful for the generosity of my dear friend A. His kindness has been nothing short of staggering. But for him and his equally awesome wife, I would not be here, cheerfully lamenting the mess in my living room.

Serendipity has been bringing another just as big-hearted friend, Yo, more often into my orbit. Little Monster and I had been in town late one evening, unusual itself for that time of day, when I saw her in front of us. I called out to her and it turned out that she had been trying to find my number on her phone right at that minute! The result was a lovely dinner together that time, and a few days later, this morning, a traditional Polish Easter brunch which culminated in us just hanging out in my living room playing with Little Monster till dusk.

Saturday, Little Monster and I decided to visit High Lodge Thetford Forest.

Eep! We may be lost!

In my naivety, I thought we would be able to get there on foot from the train station. Oh, we did all right, but by criminy it took a long time. We followed the map but were faced with roads and no pedestrian walkways, so detoured onto "public footpaths" into the forest. We wound up trekking through the trees with a vague idea that we should head towards traffic "over there" to get on the road to High Lodge. There was a minute or two where I thought I might have gotten us lost as we'd gone off the beaten path, and were trudging through undergrowth, following the sound of cars.

Alas, poor crocodile,
we knew him well.

Finally,we found the road that led to High Lodge and ran on to it. By then, we had been walking for over an hour and were just a tad tired. To our dismay, the road to our destination seemed endless. Roadside banners teased us with what was ahead, but twenty minutes or so in and there was still just road ahead. So we started hitching! It was my first time doing so, and bubs really got into the spirit of it, I was so proud of her. At least ten vehicles passed us by before one family stopped and offered us a lift. Thank goodness for small acts of compassion.

I must say, our seemingly epic journey was worth it. High Lodge Thetford Forest is a child's wonderland, full of delightfully challenging structures for climbing, sliding, jumping and all those things kids love. We gravitated instantly to the breathtakingly tall, winding slide and Little Monster just grinned and grinned and grinned. I think her cheeks must have been aching by the time we had to go.

Sympathy for the Monster

We spent the afternoon running from area to area and trying just about everything. My favourite section was the sound play area, the bells, gongs, sound pillows were enchanting. There were even story trails like the Stick Man and The Gruffalo. We had lunch in what they charmingly called The Pantry and finished on the giant see-saw. All that and we still hadn't exhausted all that the Forest offered: there was Go Ape, and archery, and a bouncy slide, and I am sure there are places we hadn't yet discovered. The only downer was that we had to get a taxi back to the station -- walking it was out of the question. The fare was shocking to say the least. Thankfully, I had just enough cash to pay for it. A thoroughly good day was had by all.

Just one of the Wild Play places

On the romantic (?**) front, things have been unexpected. This weekend I enjoyed the company of two people who were facing extraordinary challenges. One was pulling himself out from under a traumatic past, and the other was coming to terms with a gradually worsening condition that would drastically alter his life. Both of them have shown remarkable strength and grit, and I feel privileged that I am a part of their journey, even if it is but a slight one. Getting to know them has put my own life into perspective, but it has also made me consider my role at this particular point in theirs. For that, I am humbly thankful. I look forward to our next encounters and hope we grow to be good friends.

I have so much to be grateful for. Even the times when I am at a loss to know what to do with Little Monster, the times when I am almost in tears because she's desperate for a playmate and I just cannot be that. The times when all I can do is lay in bed, incapable of action. Thankfully, those times are brief and mere blips in an otherwise brilliant life.

*Workship? Businesship?
** I don't know how to name what it is that I do. I don't exactly date, in that my purpose in meeting new people is not to find love in the conventional sense. I suppose you might call it cultivating companionships.

Volcano, the Fire-Breathing Piglet

I have been terribly distracted of late. Unsurprising really -- new job, new people. The things that should be important (money -- cue eye roll) have fallen by the wayside. But this new chapter is awfully exciting, so I'm enjoying every minute I can.

 Last night, Little Monster asked me to tell her a "made up story", that is, one I make up on the spot. And I loved telling it so much, I thought I'd share it here.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then let us begin.

Once there was a Little Monster who wouldn't go to bed. Mama, in despair, asked her what-oh-what would do the trick?  And she replied 'A fire-breathing piglet.'

So Mama went outside and gathered earth, clay, some leaves and water from the Weeping Rock. With these ingredients, she sculpted a piglet. She brought it inside and showed it to Little Monster, who clapped in delight. 

Mama said 'We need something for the fire and I know just thing.' She smiled wickedly and went out again. This time she sneaked into Little Monster's father's house and stole a lighter. Into the belly of the piglet it went with a pop.

It was perfect, but how to bring it to life? pondered Mama and Little Monster. 

Then Little Monster said 'Evil Queen, under the volcano!' Mama's eyebrow went up. (Under? Under!)

So off she went.

Mama travelled through a jungle alive with man-eating flora, swirling dusty deserts that choked, and an ocean filled with enormous sea-monsters. Finally, she reached the Evil Queen's volcano (all this took five long, drawn-out seconds). 

She knocked on the door.

'WHAT IS IT!?' roared the Evil Queen as she flung it open. 'Oh, it's you.'

Mama raised her other eyebrow. 'Do we know each other?'

The Evil Queen rolled her eyes and banged the side of her head. 'Sorry, I am ahead of myself. We will do. Start again. What do you want? Come, come. I'm busy. Kingdoms to destroy, Princesses to poison, you know the drill.'

Mama told her about the piglet. The Evil Queen sighed a great big sigh, then snatched it out of Mama's hands and threw it into the volcano.

There was a loud WHOOMPH! and out of the lava flew, flew,  Little Monster's piglet. It was a sight to behold. It came to Mama and settled in her arms, a little sooty but clearly quite content.

'Now, shoo! Tell your Little Monster, she owes me a favour,' said the Evil Queen and slammed the door behind Mama.

Mama made it home via the Hundred Acre Woods, which we won't ever talk about again (smoking ruins, thanks for the suggestion Adam), and presented Little Monster with her very own fire-breathing piglet.

There was much mutual squealing and cuddling. 

'What shall we call her?' asked Mama, as she settled both of them into bed.

Little Monster replied with delighted glowing eyes, 'Volcano!'

And thus ends our tale of Volcano, the Fire-Breathing Piglet.