Two years ago, Christmas finished and both Perran and Carenza were living with us.
One year ago, Pascoe was home. “We could have an adventure, Mum,” he said, and we did – a short trip to meltingly beautiful Lisbon.
This year, however, after what was for me an unsatisfactory Christmas (flu) all the children left to go back to their own flats and working lives. Nigel returned to work too.
Still feeling rather sorry for myself, I found myself with several days before teaching started and a to-do list which, though long, contained no task that I found in any way tempting.
Instead I sat around wondering what my whole life had been about, whether the good times were all over. Whether all that was left was decline and inevitable decay.
Luckily, work started again this week.
I now know what life is about – it is about printing out registers, marking stray exercise books, making sure the info on my PowerPoints is correct and that everything is uploaded to my USB stick.
I feel much more myself again.
So that’s alright then.
No comments:
Post a Comment