One Small Step

 

 

One corner of my kitchen looks exactly as I want it to. It's just one section but enough to give a glimpse of what the room will look like when it's complete, a glimmer of hope when I've been working so hard and seeing so little in the way of progress until now. I'm having to work in stages, one small step at a time, which is painfully tedious, but it's the only way I can manage with so little time on my hands.

I have discovered, however, that although it's a frustratingly slow way of working, it's quite satisfying to watch the project as it unfolds slowly. I am learning to appreciate the process, the small but achievable steps that will take me eventually to the final outcome, recognising that every little thing I do takes me a tiny bit closer. I will get there in the end, although there's still a long way to go, considering the opposite kitchen wall needs replacing after the plasterboard was damaged by a leak. 

Someday, a few weeks, maybe a couple of months, I will look at my work and realise how far I've come. But for now I'll keep plodding on, one step at a time until I get there. 

Shelf Improvement

Finally, I can report some progress on the DIY front. It may not sound like much but I put up some shelves last week, which has definitely made a difference, providing me the storage space that I've found somewhat lacking in our chaotic household, and generally improving the aesthetic feel of our breakfast room, where we currently eat all our meals. 

It wasn't the most straightforward job as I had to temporarily take down the shelving and panel in the bathroom on the otherside of the wall in order to locate where the pipes were and ensure I didn't damage these in the process. Initially, the thought of disrupting the relative harmony of our bathroom was too much, but eventually determination won over my initial reluctance, and I just got on with the task at hand. 

I had to get Sewel to advise me and show me how to use the saw to cut the wood to size, but once we had put one shelf up together, I was able to complete the job on my own. I am proud of my handiwork and delighted, not only to have somewhere to store the children's stationary and craft activities, but to also have a shelf to display my Russian Dolls! It's a small start but I'm hoping to see more progress before the year is out!

Reentry

 

 

I've been back at work for eight weeks now, and the children back at school and nursery for nearly as long. Despite my initial anxieties about returning to the 'real' world after months spent shielding at home, my 'reentry' has gone well and really by the end of my first shift it felt like I'd never been away. The children, likewise, settled back into routine as though the school had only been closed for the weekend and not nearly half a year. 

Obviously there have been changes to adapt to, but nothing that has required too much adaptation. I work in retail, but working antisocial hours means that most of my shift is worked while the store is closed. Similarly, there are changes within the school to keep everyone safe, but the staff have done a good job of introducing the new practices whilst still maintaining a calm and happy atmosphere. 

Wearing a mask hasn't been too big a deal, although I admit initially I found it quite uncomfortable. I was surprised by the confidence I quickly found in wearing mine. I worried it would make me feel more self conscious, but that is not the case at all, even in situations where I seem to be the only person wearing one. 

I just feel so happy and grateful to be back into routine, and able to go out again after months of remaining at home. However, I do really appreciate the time I spent shielding as it gave me the time I needed to recover from the stress of Sewel's accident. I had the time to rest and let my own mental health heal, and I was able to return when I truly felt ready. While at first the situation didn't feel well timed, I realise now how well everything has worked out.

 

 

Almost Progress

Finally, I can report a little bit of progress has been made on our house, although in hindsight not as much as I'd hoped. After weeks of ringing around, waiting for calls and researching other options, we finally found a roofer available to repair some of the leaks in our roof. One of these, at the front, needed urgent attention as water was dripping down from above Moth's bedroom window and also from the ceiling in the porch directly below, and at quite a frequency. Besides this area of the roof, the roofing team also replaced the flashing on the flat roof above our kitchen, which has leaked for as long as we've lived here. 

Because the company was local to us they were able to deal with the work quickly, despite being inundated with work like all of the other roofers we'd contacted. It was finished within a few days, and it was just a matter of waiting for the rain to be sure that the work was definitely complete. And, happily, we have been able to remove the buckets from our kitchen floor. But regretfully, we found that a few days later, the more major leak at the front was still very much a problem. We are just waiting on the roofing team to return and sort it, although they have already agreed to return and give us an estimate for re-tiling the back roof. 

Hopefully soon, the roof will be fully repaired, and we will also make progress with the work that needs to be done inside our house, but it's a relief to know that one of the biggest jobs is underway at long last!

Gradual Emergence

In line with the advice from the Scottish government for individuals who, like my husband, fall into the most vulnerable category, we are still shielding, but gradually the restrictions are lifting, and perhaps at the end of July we will be advised that we can emerge. It might be that in August my children can return to school and nursery and I will be able to return to my job in a supermarket. But it might be that we will have to continue playing it safe yet. We are watching the reports each day, noting the figures, which in the last few days have risen slightly. It's difficult, unsettling being in the unknown, mentally preparing for a possible return to previous routines, and yet not really knowing if it will happen yet.

I am anxious about the transition back into work and the school run. In some ways I feel like I've lost a part of myself, the part that has a place in my community, my work place, the outside world. I've been away so long that I've almost forgotten who I am away from home and feel a strange sort of detachment to it all. Returning to old routines will be a process of rediscovering myself and fitting in again.

Perhaps it will be easy. Perhaps it will be as though I've never been away. But at the same time, it's not just me that's changed, but the whole world around me. I haven't been able to experience this new world firsthand, when others have been living in it for the last four months, so it's going to take some adaptation.

The hardest part is not knowing if it will happen yet, or whether we will stall for a further few weeks, gradually increasing the detachment I feel towards my former lifestyle and making the rehabilitation process even harder. I can only wait and see, and continue to utilise this time I've been granted.

Comfort Reading

Well, if there's one thing to be said for 2020, it's that it's been a good year for reading. I was in a good routine before lock down, but since I began shielding I have read twenty-one novels, two poetry volumes, six Shakespeare plays (continuing with my schedule of two a month), and various literary adaptations and criticisms corresponding to the plays. It would be accurate to say that reading is one of the things that has sustained me during this difficult period in my life.

Having an hour or so to read between home schooling and entertaining the children, and making dinner, has kept me going through the day with all its demands, and given me something to look forward to, something that's just for me. Shielding has also meant I've had time to read both first thing in the morning and last thing at night, whereas when I'm working I get up in the early hours of the morning, and have to settle early at night to compensate for the sleep lost.

Very soon after lock down was announced, I was inspired to try and host an online book group meeting. I was invited to use the Facebook page of my local book group as a base for this, and the meetings have been hosted using Zoom. Besides the current members, I was joined at the first meeting by friends and family from Devon too. I found it rather daunting to be the host, but the meetings have been a success and we have held three so far. At the most recent meeting we were even joined by the author of the book, which was very exciting!

For me, reading has given me a source of escape. It has enabled me to travel to all sorts of places and situations in a period of my life where I am physically stuck in one place, and in doing so taken my mind off the various anxieties and stresses which have sometimes felt quite overwhelming. I don't know what the next few months hold or when I'll be able to return to work, and the children to school and nursery, but this reading time is definitely something to be thankful for given the circumstances.

Reprieve

I am trying to see this strange and uncertain situation we're in in a more positive light. I am in a position where I no longer go to work, no longer balance antisocial hours and school runs, or really manage time. Of course, there are many pressures and stresses that come with the current restrictions, but in a way I am experiencing a kind of freedom too. Despite having two young children to entertain and educate and a husband recovering from a hip replacement, I've suddenly found I have time to do things I never got round to before. 

A few weeks ago I started putting up the plasterboard that got my family into our current mess in the first place*. It took a few days and it was hard at times, but I felt satisfied to be getting something done. Simultaneously, in the evenings, I picked up a crochet pattern I've wanted to try for many years, one that I hadn't started simply because I needed to download and print it, and I didn't know how to work our printer. Not only did I print the pattern, but I learned to use the printer in the process. I started baking bread again, mainly because we ran out and were depending on others to shop on our behalf, and we weren't always organised enough to arrange this in time, but we had a good supply of bread flour. I tried a new recipe with the children: we made hot cross buns on Good Friday for the first time, after many years of aspiring and failing to make them for Easter. 

I don't know when life will return to normal, when I'll go back to work and the children will start school again, and I suddenly find myself snowed under with numerous responsibilities and very little time to myself, but I am trying to see this time as an opportunity, a reprieve. It's a deliverance of sorts, the chance of a lifetime to break from the norm and discover ourselves and what really matters. And so I am using this reprieve as productively and industriously as I can, with the hope that whenever we return to our old routines, I might have got ahead with various projects that have been on hold so long, and perhaps even achieved something worthwhile. I can only hope that one day I'll look back and see this as a turning point in my life.

*my husband's accident happened when he tried to move ten pieces of plasterboard in one go.

Hosanna

When I promised to love my husband in sickness and in health I never envisaged a scenario where his health would require me to remain at home, taking indefinite leave from a 'key worker' position which will in all likelihood span for longer than the twelve weeks initially proposed. Don't think for a minute I am rethinking my wedding vows or considering my position to be unique. I fully appreciate that everyone is in the same boat. But there are times where I feel somewhat trapped. I am taking care of three people on my own, while learning to depend on others for needs that would otherwise require me to step into the outside world. And it's hard. 

While on the whole my outlook on life is improving and I am adapting to the situation at hand, there are days where I feel completely drained. I am pouring out so much of myself that sometimes by evening I am empty. I don't see those days coming. They tend to creep up on me when I dare to believe I've finally got the upper hand, and they come in an onslaught with any additional pressures, even joyful ones. 

Trying to coordinate Easter and Ever's fourth birthday on top of my current caring duties was almost too much. Although I prepared in advance I didn't anticipate how overwhelming the day itself would be with two excitable children, a full itinerary with little resting time, a lot of clearing up to do and no one to help. Is it really any wonder that, while I made it through the day, I feel so empty this evening on supposedly the most joyful day in the Christian calendar. I know I will get through and tomorrow will surely be brighter, but for now all I can do is cry out Hosanna! Lord, save us!

 

At a Standstill

In just a few weeks everything has changed; a whole country held under siege by an invisible but no less threatening presence. We are exiled in the comfort of our own homes, yet endure separation from family and friends, entire communities. I cope alone with two small children and an invalid husband, laid up with a broken hip following an accident that coincided neatly with the outbreak. 

There seems very little else to say. Life is at a complete standstill for everyone at the moment, and we just have to endure it. There are days where it seems only a little thing, and other days where it feels harder to bear, but there is comfort to be found in the awakening of the spring, the lighter evenings and the daffodils lifting their newborn faces to the sun.

And Yet

I've been stationary for too long and I am restless. Three storms, one after the other, have kept us housebound for a significant part of the month, coinciding with my birthday and a visit from my parents, and still the wintry weather persists. We have seen plenty of snow, but never enough for a snowman, each shower overlapped by the rain so it never settles for long. One day I watched the snow settle then melt, settle then melt, several times over, with an effect not unlike the tide coming in and then going back out again. 

Our roof leaks in three different places. Drips fall contemptuously in our workshop from the neglected property above, empty and the owner out of reach. Shared responsibility for the roof, or more the lack of responsibility from the other party, has held up the repairs for long enough with no sign of light at the end of the tunnel. Other projects have been delayed too with difficulty in supply and demand of the building materials we need.  So many rooms are out of use that what's left feel cluttered and disorganised.

There are moments where, along with my own minor health complaints in the mix, I've felt weary of this house and all its problems. My efforts feel futile and I don't see a quick resolution to anything. 

And yet, this is home. I don't always see it beyond all the work that needs to be done. I can play games in the living room with my children, or potter about the kitchen making dinner, or sit in the breakfast room, writing while looking out across the garden, and feel deeply grateful. Yesterday evening the sky was clear for once and, while we ate dinner, we looked up at the moon, and Venus diagonally above. It seemed like a moment of clarity. Next month I'm determined will be a more hopeful one.

Slow Down

In the past I've sometimes adopted a word to be my focus for the new year. This year I've chosen an expression: Slow Down. For me this is not about doing less, but about taking a more reflective approach towards life,  effectively slowing down and being more appreciative of the process, rather than rushing to reach the end goal. As a person who's naturally busy and industrious this has been quite a challenge. 

January has been a restful month, with various DIY projects on hold and so there's been plenty of opportunity to read, write, knit and crochet, all of the things I love to do. 

I have taken on an entirely new approach with reading: rather than working through one book after another, I now read several books simultaneously, and I find this quite refreshing. I have swapped my daily devotional readings to morning rather than evening, which means I am more alert and can take in more. Currently, I have two novels, a poetry book, and a Shakespeare play on the go. I am really enjoying the variety, and again, I've switched my focus to the process of reading, rather than getting to the end of the book. 

Perhaps as a result of this I have experienced a burst of creativity with my own writing and have managed to write six poems over the last few weeks. It's not a form of writing I normally turn my hand to but recently the poems have flowed effortlessly from my pen and the few people who have read them have been quite complimentary.

Picking up my knitting and crochet projects in the evenings has become quite compulsive. Consequently I've made headway with the Frozen crochet set I received as a gift last year, having completed three of the twelve characters and I have also finished a few other projects besides.

This is all in the midst of organising activities for Moth and Ever, and keeping on top of the housework. All in all I have started the year feeling very balanced and I hope this is a feeling that will continue.

Full Circle

It's been another year where my offerings here have been fairly thin on the ground, but this is still my place to come when I want to look back and reflect, if only for my own amusement. 

Having lost my elderly grandmother just before Christmas, 2019 began with a funeral and return trip to my hometown. The funeral was actually a very uplifting start to the year as most of the family came together for the occasion, and I met with cousins I hadn't seen in more than ten years. In the fortnight that followed we had a snowfall and made our first snowman of the year. This was swiftly followed by my thirtieth birthday in February. My parents came up for the occasion and even took care of the children for a day so Sewel and I spend the afternoon in Edinburgh and see a performance of Les Miserable in the evening. 

Winter turned into spring, and there were more birthdays to celebrate, as Ever turned three and Moth five. The school term was rapidly coming to an end, and in June we went on holiday to Mull with my parents. We spent a wonderful week exploring the island, as well as taking day trips to nearby Iona and Ulva. Then the summer holidays truly began, with many fun-packed days at home with Moth and Ever, including a first cinema visit, and a night spent camping in the garden, followed by ten days in the East of England visiting Sewel's family. 

The school term was underway again before we knew it, and suddenly we found ourselves with three hours to spare each morning as Moth started school full time and Ever attended nursery part time. We have watched both children flourish in their new routines, especially Moth who joined the Additional Needs class and never looked back. He was even presented with the Head-teacher's Award for learning to read, in November. 

Autumn also saw Sewel relaunching our candle-making business, after receiving notice that his office would be relocating to the city centre in the new year. Not wishing to undertake a longer commute to a job that he finds boring and unfulfilling, he has decided that he will leave and run the business full time. We are in a good position for him to do this and hopefully 2020 will see our business continue to grow successfully.

We have just returned from a lovely Christmas with my in-laws in the East of England. One of the main reasons we chose to return for Christmas was that Sewel's grandmother had grown incredibly frail, and we knew it would be our last opportunity to see her. We actually stayed with her for the week, which meant we could take care of her, not that she really wanted much at all, as she was barely eating and drinking. She passed away the day after we returned to Scotland, so it looks as though 2020 will begin in much the same way as this last year come full circle. Hopefully, though, getting the family together to celebrate the life of a very special woman, will prove to be an uplifting occasion that sets us in motion for 2020. 

A Week on Mull

A month ago we drove up to Oban and caught the ferry across to Mull for our family holiday. While a much larger island than Bute, which we visited last year, the population is less than half. The roads are mostly single-track, and areas of civilisation are quite scattered across the island, giving it a much more rural feel. We stayed in a lovely holiday let, which was set back from the road and surrounded by woodland, but with a view through the trees across Loch Cuin. We watched the sun setting over the water, and I was completely taken away by the beauty and tranquility of that moment. 

I think the first day of the holiday was our favourite. We spent the first part of the day on a beach further along the coast, and then stopped at Croig for the "Sometimes Annual Daft Raft Race" that Sewel and I had spotted advertised on a poster. It was quite a spectacle and certainly proved to be an interesting experience, even as a mere spectator. We watched as an array of rafts set off from the shore and raced to the pier further along. We followed their progress on foot and were there to meet them at the other end. We were completely drawn by Croig, and were struck by the view of what we believe to be Rum in the distance.

We visited Tobermory twice. The town, with its iconic colourful houses set along the seafront, is the setting for the children's television programme Balamory. Moth and Ever loved visiting the aquarium, which was small but still kept us occupied for over an hour. We enjoyed the touch-pool session and Ever was brave enough to hold a starfish. We also did some souvenir-hunting in the wide range of touristy shops, and were also able to stock up on food supplies at the local Co-op. 

We spent a day driving all the way to the South-West point of Mull, where we caught the ferry from Fionnphort across to Iona. It was nice to spend a day exploring a little of the island and getting a feel for it, although we didn't venture into the abbey, with two small children in tow. We spent another day on another small island called Ulva, which has a population of just five people! It would certainly be an experience living for a time in such a remote place. 

We visited Duart Castle, although this was a little challenging with the children as they wouldn't let us hang around for long, ever eager to move on to the next room. Because we shared the holiday with my parents, Sewel and I were able to go out for a meal together one evening, which was a real treat! At our encouragement, my parents joined the Staffa tour on the final day. We decided against it, as we weren't sure about how the children would react to the three hour boat trip. When my parents returned they said the trip was one of the highlights of the holiday for them, as they had been lucky enough to see a pod of dolphins during the trip. 

Apart from the Staffa trip, which we'll save for a later date, I felt we ticked everything off our Mull "bucket list", and really got a good overview of the island. We all really enjoyed the week, especially Moth and Ever, who coped with being away from home and in a different environment much better than they did last year. 

 

First Days of Spring

Every season is my favourite at some point in the year. I always find that with the turning of the seasons comes a change that's not unwelcome. There's something to love about every season, but I often tire of them after a while and search for signs of the next season to come. 

There's something special about springtime that I think marks it out as my absolute favourite season. Spring is the time of the year that both of my children arrived into the world. It is a time for new life, fresh buds and leaves emerging on the once bare branches of trees, which later festoon the streets with colourful sweet-smelling blossom. This aroma combines with the earthy scent of cows, which I don't find unpleasant at all but a vast improvement on the overpowering diesel fumes that we were used to in our previous urban dwelling. 

When we walk along the quiet country roads that run along the edge of the village the surrounding fields are dotted with white and the air is alive with the bleats of spring lambs. The heady scent of the green fields combined with the bluest skies is enough to lift my spirits, even when for days on end the wind blows in gusts strong enough to hinder our mobility, and the fine rain sends chills through us.

The winter has been a mild one, but the arrival of spring as usual has been staggered, with an unexpected heatwave in February, before further snow showers into March. But I find the post February snow is limited in its capacity and never lasts long. Even when it settles it quickly melts when the snow showers dwindle into rain. I love the cosiness that comes with the colder months, but this is nothing compared with the warmth and hope that spring brings, along with the strong reminder that we survived another winter.

Visiting Cumbrae

Last weekend, with a guest to entertain and a promising weather forecast ahead, we set off for Largs, a seaside town on the West coast, and caught the ten minute ferry across to Great Cumbrae. This tiny island has a population of around 1400 people, and isn't far from Bute which we visited last summer. 

Four miles from the ferry terminal lies the small town of Millport, and main area of habitation on the island. After our picnic we explored the seafront, starting with crocodile rock, the first point of interest. Not to be confused with the popular Elton John song, this is quite literally a rock shaped like a crocodile. There is also Lion Rock and Indian Rock, but these will wait for another visit. 

We then went to Garrison House and had a look at the small museum there. It was interesting, but the children were very fidgety so it wasn't long before we moved on. We walked to the Cathedral of the Isles, the smallest cathedral in the UK. 

We were the only visitors at the time, and it was very tranquil, even with two small children. Even they seemed slightly in awe and were happy to sit in the pew with me until the rest of our party had finished looking. We found a grass labyrinth in the cathedral grounds and had great fun following the path to the centre. 

We returned to the seafront and had a look in some of the shops and cafes in search of the ice cream we had promised Moth and Ever. The only problem was that as we aren't quite into tourist season yet, there wasn't a lot of choice. Moth wanted strawberry and Ever chocolate. Eventually we compromised and bought a box of unbranded mini Magnum style ice creams from the local Premier food store. 

 

There was enough to go around, and so we all enjoyed sitting on a bench and looking across to distant Arran, and the mainland. 

We returned to the car and drove around the rest of the island. You can get around the whole island by car in about half an hour. Just before we reached the ferry terminal for the return journey, we stopped at some rock pools. We had brought buckets and spades and the children's nets, and spent a happy half an hour collecting shells and exploring rock pools. We even found a jelly fish washed up on the shore. 

We were only about five minutes from the ferry and got there just as it was arriving. We boarded the ferry for the short journey back to the mainland. It had been a wonderful adventure. 

Edinburgh Outing

Sewel planned a special outing for just the two of us in celebration of my milestone birthday last month. My parents came up to be with us for the week, and we had some great days out all together, but two days after my birthday they took charge of the children for the day so we could go out. 

I knew very little about what Sewel had in store. All he'd revealed was that we were off to Edinburgh and we wouldn't be back until after midnight. We took the tram from the park and ride and arrived in the city at lunchtime. Sewel led the way, and after about a mile we arrived at a tiny basement restaurant. There were only about five or six tables inside but it was all very luxurious and comfortable. We sat down and enjoyed a delicious three course lunch, followed by coffee.

Feeling very full, we left the restaurant mid-afternoon. I didn't press Sewel about what he had planned for the rest of the day, and let him continue to lead the way back into the centre. After stopping to take some photos with the castle in the background, we arrived at The Writers' Museum. Sewel knew it was somewhere I had wanted to visit, but it would have been impossible with two small children in tow. It was nice to have the freedom to take my time and really look at the displays about Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott and Robert Louis Stephenson. I certainly need to read more of the works of these celebrated Scottish writers!

We still had a few hours remaining before the grand finale Sewel had planned, so we took our time, walking around the city and visiting some shops. We picked up presents for Moth and Ever, fairy wings, on the grounds that if we'd bought them only for Ever then Moth would want some too. Eventually we arrived at the Edinburgh Festival Theatre where all was revealed, as you will see from the photo. Sewel had bought us tickets to see Les Miserables! It was a spectacular performance and we really enjoyed it. 

Sewel had put such a lot of thought into making the day special for me. My 30th birthday has been a memorable one.

Little Echoes

There she spoke her first word. Here she learned to talk. Very shortly after moving day, I returned home from work to the delighted chorus of "Mummy, Mummy!" Moth charging through the hall to greet me, and Ever following in his wake, giving voice to her new found word: "Mummy." 

Soon the little echoes became a regular occurrence. With two parents and a younger brother to imitate, Ever quickly rose to the challenge. Now that she had found her voice, she was determined to speak just as competently as those around her. 

Whenever I spoke, no matter how quietly, I was guaranteed to hear the words echo. Almost effortlessly single words merged with others and expanded into basic sentences and expressions. "I enjoyed today," she would say every night before bed.

Then came the day that she spoke of her own accord. I recognised the words and expressions as my own, but this time she was not merely repeating what she'd heard me say seconds beforehand. She had quite literally taken the words out of my mouth and was using them appropriately to say what she wanted. 

Now she subjects us to questions, and an endless running commentary of all that's going on around us, her observations and interpretations of what she can see. "What are you doing?" she asks me repeatedly, even though often she knows the answer already.

As someone who's sometimes afraid to speak up, I cannot help but marvel as I listen to my little echo, imitating no more but discovering her own voice, and not hesitating to use it.

Moving Moth

I know it was a lot to expect of my children, a move so far from all that was familiar, the place that to them was home. Ever found the transition relatively easy. Her view was more simplistic: for her, home did not so much concern the surroundings as it did the people in it, namely, Mummy, Daddy and brother. 

For Moth it was harder. Moth had begun to grow familiar with his surroundings. He was in a comfortable routine and had established relationships beyond our home. Moth was old enough to know what he was leaving behind. We tried to prepare him in advance, but it's hard to explain the unknown to a child with delayed speech. We tried, but he didn't understand. 

We had a long drive ahead following a day that involved a lot of hanging around while two strangers loaded our belongings into a removal van. I don't remember the children being difficult though, despite the change that hung forbodingly in the air with the potential to infect their behaviour and wreak further havoc on the day. In fact, they seemed to welcome the adventure, the lack of routine, and the novelty of their grandfather and uncle's presence to help oversee our preparations for departure. We visited the little park around the corner a couple of times, but mostly watched the comings and goings of the removal men, the furniture gradually diminishing around us.

It was a relief to finally close the door, leave the spare key for the new owner, and get into the car, adrenaline pulsing through us and temporarily postponing the sheer exhaustion of the last few days. Moth and Ever were happy to sit in their car seats and watch Charlie and Lola and Stuart Little, on the DVD player, while we put miles between us and our first family home.

Moth's cries on our arrival, just before midnight, pained me. We had turned the DVD player off at his request an hour or two before, and he went to sleep, blissfully unaware that his world was about to change. He stirred as we were unloading the essentials from our car, his howls drawing attention from the open window of the flat opposite. I carried him into the house and he seemed to resist. "Back to car! Back to car!" he repeated over and over again, until, too tired to protest any more, he let me settle him to sleep in his new bedroom. 

Everything was different the next day. Moth and Ever were refreshed after a good night's sleep. I'm afraid the same can not be said for myself after an uncomfortable night on a damp mattress with no coverlet, and then the arrival of a small army of removal men at dawn. The adrenaline rush from the day before was ebbing, but my two small children were unrelenting, so I pushed onwards. 

Moth and I ventured to the local shop, a two minute walk away, and we restocked our fridge and freezer. His face lit up when he saw the community garden opposite, a place that would soon become a favourite haunt of his. After lunch we walked to the big park, just half a mile down the road and as beautiful as I remembered from our first visit nearly a year before, when we went to view the house that was now ours. We played and explored for the rest of the afternoon. 

While Moth's behaviour proved to be a challenge over the next few weeks, he didn't express any further distress towards the move, but seemed to settle in his own way, and by the time he joined the nursery class at the local primary school, a few weeks later, he was familiar with his surroundings and comfortable with his new routine. 

What he will remember of our former home is uncertain. When we returned to visit family two months later, he did not show any recognition, especially when we attended our old church which had been a big part of our weekly routine. Now he seems completely at ease with life as it is, and we have received more support than we could have hoped for from his school who recognise his need for additional help. 

Moving Moth was never going to be easy, but I believe it was a move that came at the right time, and I am confident this place has so much more to offer him and Ever than the town they were born in. For the last eighteen months I have watched them flourish and grow into themselves and I am so incredibly proud of them.

Three Decades

A weekend of celebration lies ahead as I reach another milestone in my life; Saturday being the last day of my twenties and Sunday the first in my thirties.

It's looking to be a quiet start to my fourth decade, our plans to go for a drive in the mountains tomorrow put on hold due to the heavy rain and strong winds forecast with the arrival of Storm Eric. I think everyone with a February birthday should be entitled to a second birthday in the summer months. 

But I know my birthday will be special in its own way. Tomorrow we will make a cake and let the children help. Then, on the day itself, the weather is supposed to clear up so we may have an hour or two to spend at one of the local country parks, between church and the arrival of my parents later in the day. 

Whenever my birthday comes round each year I can only ever feel gratitude for the time I've had so far. I've never been one for turning twenty-one repeatedly. Three decades seems quite a long time to have walked the earth. 

This last decade has been especially sweet. I graduated from university with a first class degree in English Literature and Creative Writing. I have uprooted twice, moving a few hundred miles at a time and across the border into another country on the second occasion. I bought my first car, and several more  subsequently. I bought a house, sold it, bought another, better house. It's fair to say I didn't do most of these things on my own. I got married to my first and only love. Together we have contributed to the human race, with the arrival of Moth and Ever. My twenties have been nothing short of personal achievement. 

I regret that this isn't the decade that I've succeeded in becoming a published author but it's always good to have something to carry across to the bucket list for my thirties, along with setting up a home business in candle-making. And I continue to write and have ideas and so I hope these will turn into a book someday.

I intend to keep my expectations low for the decade ahead, although I can only wish that my thirties will be just as good as my twenties have been. 

A Long Year

2018 started dismally for me. Normally I begin the New Year feeling positive and energised, but this time I set myself quite ambitious targets that quickly unravelled. I had high hopes to finish writing my book, and realised early into the year that finding the time, inspiration and energy was never going to happen, while simultaneously raising a family and trying to bring some order to our project house. At the end of March I broke with the project I had been working on for five years, and apart from dabbling with a couple of new ideas have written very little all year.

 

2018 began with a long winter, although the first days of spring came early in February, giving us false hope. The weather wasn't set to change until several weeks later. At the beginning of March we made a sizeable snowman, though one day at the end of the month, the children ate their dinner outside in their coats. 

Once we were into April the winter was quickly forgotten, and our spirits thawed. In June we spent a week exploring the Isle of Bute, and could easily have left our coats and jumpers at home for we had no need of them. Having long dreamed of visiting the Scottish islands it was a delight to take in the first and truly begin our adventure. 

The soaring temperatures seemed to affect the wildlife. We saw notices on Facebook about what to do in the event of spotting a hedgehog in broad daylight and never thought we would have the need to aid one of the prickly species, until late afternoon, one day in early July when Sewel spotted a young hedgehog wandering in our garden. We gave it water and brought it inside, keeping it warm as we had been advised, until it could be collected by the SSPCA. 

We got away for a few weeks at the end of July, and into August, taking our annual tour down South to visit Sewel's family in the East, and then my family in the South-West. We returned for the start of the school term, and Moth returned to nursery for his pre-school year. Watching my little two grow throughout the year is always a highlight. The Autumn was quiet, our stream of visitors in the spring, followed by our travels in the summer, now over. We concentrated our energies on household projects and finally completed our living room in time for Christmas. 

Although I haven't updated my blogs much I started writing in my diary again after a long absence, and I've found a great joy in capturing day to day moments forever in words. And being involved with a monthly book group has meant I've read plenty: 46 books in total, which for me is an achievement, at least when compared with recent years. I believe my break from my writing project was long overdue, but I hope it is something I will fall back into in the coming year, along with candle-making, blogging, and reading, which goes without saying!