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.