I think I’ve given myself RSI by doing almost 2 hours of continuous electronic filing on Friday. Another good reason to denounce office work, and luckily I have now confirmed that I will indeed be returning to the realm of home-based self-employed freelance-type workers at the end of November. Just in time for summer to really kick in.
Before you start thinking that I will be spending my days lounging listlessly in a wicker chair, languidly sipping Pimms/iced tea (Long Island or otherwise) and fanning myself with a Tennessee Williams novel, I should point out that our home office/study/spare room has the magical ability to be freezing cold all year round. Last summer I was seriously considering wearing a woolly hat and overcoat indoors, sort of like a less pointy Edith Sitwell, but instead just complained continuously (which is much more endearing). This icy-chill can mean only one of two things: it is a room possessed by the unresting & malevolent spirit of some poor unrecognised Kiwi housewife, or it gets no direct sunlight at any time of day – votes should be submitted by 6pm Friday. The 1st correct answer pulled out of a hat will win a day trip to the Albert Dock in Liverpool (at their own expense) in order to experience my suffering.
Gert, having little interest in channelling her inner Husky, usually leaves me to it and spends her day lazing on the garden bench next to the lavender bush (which is very flat as she occasionally prefers to sleep on top of it)
And to make the hours whizz by I have awaiting me the tome that is “Ancient Egyptian Materials & Technology” in all it’s 500+ page glory – apart from the 20 or so pages that are bizarrely upside-down & in reverse order (don’t worry, I’m getting a 15% refund for that bit). Plus, I’ll have earned enough money from my temping to tart up the spare room with a high-falutin’ new desk & office chair. It’s going to look v. professional and may even inspire me to finally get around to finalising the course outlines for the Egyptian archaeology courses I’ve been writing, on and off, for the last year.
But until then I will continue my contract at the SSC.
The Wellington Spring, which looked so very promising this morning, has turned into rain (with threats of thunderstorms). This, combined with still feeling tired after a 40th birthday party on Saturday night, makes me think tonight will be spent watching TV. International netball, I’m guessing, as such phenomena are often broadcast in this neck of the woods. It’s the final of 3 matches Australia vs. NZ (one all so far) so should produce a high degree of violence amongst the players – they are vicious – and unlike my recollections from school none of the goal keepers stand around looking really bored. I hated being goal keeper, it sucked. Its either that or one of the numerous CSI repeats (I’m just guessing, but that show is endemic on NZ TV, so it’s a safe bet).
I’m off now, but may well write again soon. Who knows?
Monday, October 16, 2006
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
My grandmother died today.
Well, technically she died yesterday, but I got the phone call this morning. So, for me she died today.
Jo answered the phone and it was my dad saying he had "bad news", Jo said it almost made her cry. Not because she knew my grandmother particularly well, and not because she really knows my dad particularly well, but it just pulls at something inside.
It's strange. I hadn't seen very much of my grandmother, Peg, for quite a long time, I saw her at Christmas the year before last and then again when I was over in the UK in March, but that was the most we'd been in touch for a long time. The last time I'd seen her before that was at my grandfather's funeral, and that was probably one of the first times I'd seen her in years. So. it's not as if we'd been close recently, but when I got into work this morning I realised after an hour or so that if anyone asked me how I was I'd just cry. Instead I came home, thinking I should spend some time dealing with this, doing whatever it is you do to make yourself feel better - after all it's not like I'm likely to make it home for the funeral (I'm not sure what the point would be, but I guess if was on the other side of it I might see it differently).
And now I don't know what I feel, or why. Part of me wants to "have a good cry" and part of me says "stop being so bloody self-indulgent". I guess one or other will win, eventually.
When I left the UK I was resigned to the fact that there were some people I knew it was unlikely I would see again, but this is a nasty reminder that I have moved away/shifted my life. That I'm not there, with them. And that what I left behind is moving and changing and shifting without me. I think it's easy to walk away from something and somehow think that it stays the same, unmoving and static, and that when you come back nothing will have changed. Your friends and family will still be there, and they'll welcome you with open arms because they've done nothing whilst you've been away except wait patiently for you to come back (because of course you are the most important person in the world). And then someone dies, or something significant shifts, and suddenly you realise that you're not there and there is nothing you can do about any of it. You're just on the outside now, and it was your choice to leave. All there is now are a series of intermittent phone calls, emails & promises of a visit, and the realisation that this is reality without those people you just took for granted. Loved immensely, but took for granted and assumed would always be there.
I don't mean that to sound as harsh as it may have come across. What I mean is that it is difficult and strange to start a new life in a new place without the people around you that you love and have relied on for years, the people who tell you that you are doing the right thing, that wind you up when you know you've done something stupid and that simply hang around because they like your company and you like theirs. The people whose love you assumed was yours, simply because it had been for so long.
And then something happens that reminds you of what you've given up, and you grieve for it. And with a bit of luck you pick yourself up afterwards, be bloody grateful for having had that in your life and look forward to what you might have.
But, the most important thing, despite the death that has made me get so introspective (and un-British), is that the reason I am feeling so sad is that I do genuinely miss those people (and hopefully, they will know who they are if they read this) and I know that, unless I try really hard to fuck things up, they will always be the ones I can rely on.
S
xxx
Jo answered the phone and it was my dad saying he had "bad news", Jo said it almost made her cry. Not because she knew my grandmother particularly well, and not because she really knows my dad particularly well, but it just pulls at something inside.
It's strange. I hadn't seen very much of my grandmother, Peg, for quite a long time, I saw her at Christmas the year before last and then again when I was over in the UK in March, but that was the most we'd been in touch for a long time. The last time I'd seen her before that was at my grandfather's funeral, and that was probably one of the first times I'd seen her in years. So. it's not as if we'd been close recently, but when I got into work this morning I realised after an hour or so that if anyone asked me how I was I'd just cry. Instead I came home, thinking I should spend some time dealing with this, doing whatever it is you do to make yourself feel better - after all it's not like I'm likely to make it home for the funeral (I'm not sure what the point would be, but I guess if was on the other side of it I might see it differently).
And now I don't know what I feel, or why. Part of me wants to "have a good cry" and part of me says "stop being so bloody self-indulgent". I guess one or other will win, eventually.
When I left the UK I was resigned to the fact that there were some people I knew it was unlikely I would see again, but this is a nasty reminder that I have moved away/shifted my life. That I'm not there, with them. And that what I left behind is moving and changing and shifting without me. I think it's easy to walk away from something and somehow think that it stays the same, unmoving and static, and that when you come back nothing will have changed. Your friends and family will still be there, and they'll welcome you with open arms because they've done nothing whilst you've been away except wait patiently for you to come back (because of course you are the most important person in the world). And then someone dies, or something significant shifts, and suddenly you realise that you're not there and there is nothing you can do about any of it. You're just on the outside now, and it was your choice to leave. All there is now are a series of intermittent phone calls, emails & promises of a visit, and the realisation that this is reality without those people you just took for granted. Loved immensely, but took for granted and assumed would always be there.
I don't mean that to sound as harsh as it may have come across. What I mean is that it is difficult and strange to start a new life in a new place without the people around you that you love and have relied on for years, the people who tell you that you are doing the right thing, that wind you up when you know you've done something stupid and that simply hang around because they like your company and you like theirs. The people whose love you assumed was yours, simply because it had been for so long.
And then something happens that reminds you of what you've given up, and you grieve for it. And with a bit of luck you pick yourself up afterwards, be bloody grateful for having had that in your life and look forward to what you might have.
But, the most important thing, despite the death that has made me get so introspective (and un-British), is that the reason I am feeling so sad is that I do genuinely miss those people (and hopefully, they will know who they are if they read this) and I know that, unless I try really hard to fuck things up, they will always be the ones I can rely on.
S
xxx
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