Probably Not the Next Samuel Pepys

I had to write a one day diary for a local history project that I am involved with so I thought that I would share it on the blog too.

Saturday 22nd September 2012

I really must be mad! The insistant bleeping of the alarm clock woke me at 4.30am, I reached out to turn it off and then remembered that I had moved it out of reach the night before to make absolutely sure that I woke up. I sat up and reached down to silence the alarm clock, Robbie was still sleeping soundly so I gave him a prod and told him that it was 4.30am and if he wanted to catch his train he needed to get moving right now, then I dashed off to beat him to the bathroom. When I got back to the bedroom he plodded off to get ready while I sneaked back under the covers for ten minutes, after all 'normal people' would still be fast asleep. The next thing I knew it was almost 5am and he was back in the bedroom showered and almost ready to go. It is surprising how fast you can get ready when you really have to. 

When I got downstairs he was just packing his lunch into his rucksack and by the time he got outside I had already started the car and we were all ready to go. The car knows the way to the railway station, we do that journey so often. On weekdays we are usually up at 5am so that he can catch his train to Birmingham just after 6am, so I look forward to a more leisurely start to the day on Saturdays and Sundays. Unfortunately the lure of the railway gets the better of him and he just can't keep away. Today he is going to the Deltic Gathering at the East Lancashire Railway, he is absolutely passionate about Deltics, especially his favourite Royal Scots Grey. I would have gone with him because I like Deltics too, but I have a terrible cough at the moment, it is exhausting and I haven't been sleeping very well, so I just don't have the stamina to cope with a long day on the railways at the moment.

He waved as he slammed the car door and walked towards the station. I felt a sense of relief, I had fulfilled my promise and got him there on time, now the rest of the day was my own and if I wanted to I could go back to bed. I clicked the radio on, radio 4 is the soundtrack to my life, I always have the radio on at home or in the car. I only half listened to the discussion about TB in cattle and the pros and cons of culling badgers to limit the spread of bovine TB, as I drove up the hill away from the railway station. I was thinking that my ancestors were closely linked with this part of the town. My great grandfather was orphened when very young, he grew up in the work house, but he when he was sent to be an appentice to a cordwainer in Leicester Street, he found a trade and a family and he spent the rest of his life in Leicester Street. His daughter my great grandmother grew up there, had her first home as a married woman in the next street and she brought her large family up just a couple of streets away. The area as they knew it is now long gone, but there is still one landmark that they would recognise, the spire of Seps Church still points heavenward, the clock still measures the relentless march of time in hours and minutes. The church which for centuries has witnessed the joys and sorrows of the people, stands strong and defiant amid the 'here today gone tomorrow' buildings of our modern town, reminding us of lasting values that are too easily forgotten amid the demands of modern life.

When I got home I put the kettle on for a much needed cup of tea and while I waited for it to boil I sorted the laundry into piles and put on the first load of the day. I was too awake to go back to bed and sleep, but I felt bruised and exhausted from all the coughing so I took my cup of tea and my laptop up to bed. I may not sleep but at least I could sit quietly with the radio and my laptop to occupy me. I enjoyed a couple of hours catching up with email and facebook and I began to write my diary entry for today. I must have fallen asleep at some point because it was mid morning when I woke up. I enjoyed a long relaxing bath while listening to Radio 4, a shower is fine most of the time, but there is something special about a nice hot bath. I wish this cough would get better, it is so exhausting.

It is unusual to be at home on my own, but today was very quiet, my son stayed at his friend's house last night, my older daughter had gone to Milton Keynes with her boyfriend and my younger daughter was shut in her room writing up notes in preparation for her post graduate course at Leicester University which begins on Monday. I like my own company and I never struggle to fill my time. There was a whole list of jobs demanding my attention today, but I only did the laundry and the routine tasks, I decided that the peace and quiet was too precious to waste, the other jobs can wait until I feel better.

The only problem with doing nothing is that you have too much time to think and this was one of those days that provided a lot to think about. Nine years ago today I sat with my first husband Eric in the Three Shires Hospital as the last hours of his life slipped away; then I went home and told my children that their dad was dead. Life goes on but those memories don't  fade, it is not something that you forget despite the passage of time, the details of that day are imprinted on my mind. I found myself wondering how he would feel about the way our lives have changed. I hope that I have done a good enough job as a parent, it hasn't always been easy. Eric didn't want me to be on my own if the worst should happen, but it must be hard at times for Robbie, living with a ghost. Perhaps it helps that they are very different. 

My son came home and my daughter emerged from her room, she had finished her work and was ready to fulfill her promise to paint my nails with crackle nail varnish, silver base with black crackle on top. It looked very nice. I hardly ever wear nail varnish, but it is nice to spoil myself once in a while and it is lovely to share moments like this with my daughter.

Time went on, we ate early because my daughter was going out later. My daughter went to get ready and I left my son to feed the cats while I drove to the station to pick my Robbie up. On the way back we popped into Morrisons for a printer cartridge and one or two essentials. I was glad to get home, but I had to go straight out again because my daughter wanted a lift into town. She looked amazing. We picked her friend up on the way and I dropped them both off at The Goose. By the time I got home again Robbie had a cup of tea waiting for me and I chatted to him about his day for a little while, he'd had a lovely time. 

Later on Robbie wanted to watch a film, it wasn't really my sort of thing so I decided to head up to bed with my laptop to listen to Radio 4 Extra and catch up with my friends on facebook. The cough was impossible, I couldn't stop coughing and I couldn't get my breath, it was a very frightening feeling, I was exhausted but I knew that I had another sleepless night ahead of me. Thank goodness for the internet and friends who stay up late and are happy to chat at 2am. How different from my childhood when my mum considered it very bad manners to make a telephone call after 9pm. 

Moving On

There has been a long silence on the blog, over a week of saying nothing I wasn't able to talk about something that was happening, hence the reason for my silence but at last I can speak again. Robbie made the difficult decision that after almost fifteen years it was time to leave the company that he works for and set his sights on pastures new. It has been a very big decision and it has occupied our thoughts for months, but it was very important to do things properly and I couldn't mention it on the blog until everything was agreed with his employer and his departure had been announced. He is still technically with the company for a few weeks longer, but he is now using up leave, his last working day was last Friday.

In the weeks leading up to his departure there were several important jobs to be done including emptying his cupboard and his desk. It sounds simple enough doesn't it, but this is Robbie that we are talking about! It took a huge amount of effort but thanks to the effort of two wonderful 'helpers' his cupboard was emptied - it is just as well that my Ford Galaxy has the rear seats removed because the contents of his cupboard filled the car. I thought that was the end of it but more bags and boxes followed as he emptied his desk - even a tardis couldn't hold that much 'stuff' so we now have a a lifetime of timetables that were taking up house room. It seems that he has several copies of every leaflet ever published by a train company, he also has the largest mug collection known to man and other sundry 'junk' that will fill at least 20 archive boxes!! By junk I mean old tickets, reservation slips and assorted stuff that 'normal' people would throw away. I have tried to be understanding but it is difficult, I feel as if I am drowning in clutter. I am ashamed to admit that you can't actually see our garage any more, the utility room has become a store room and all things railway related have invaded the bedroom!! Just occasionally I crave a a bit of 'normality'. When I told Robbie how I felt he told me that in 100 years time it will be an important historical archive. I wasn't as reassured by that as he expected, after all in 100 years (or even 50 years) I will not be around.

“One thing only I know, and that is that I know nothing.” – Socrates.

Being the parent of a teenager certainly keeps you 'real'. There was a time in my 20s and 30s when I thought  that I was reasonably intelligent with a fairly wide general knowledge. There was a time when my children were little that they looked up to me and trusted me to answer all their questions, but now they treat me as if I know nothing. My son is always keen to share his 'vast knowledge of life' accumulated over 17 years! To be fair he does have a wide general knowledge, but like most young people he only sees things in black and white, he will need to notch up a few more years before he starts to see shades of grey and then he will gradually realise how much he doesn't know. Until then he is content to tease me abort my astounding ignorance. I am not very good at sitting still and I have never been terribly interested in films and television and with one or two notable exceptions I have no interest whatsoever in sport so it is hardly surprising that I do not know the names of actors or sports personalities. Not so long ago my son decided to test me to find out exactly how challenged I am when it comes to knowing who does what. The whole family roared with laughter when I though that George Clooney could be a golfer, apparently he is an actor. I don't mind the teasing, after all if we did a similar test on history, poetry, literature or various other things I am fairly sure that I would know more than them!

Recently I encountered a woman who told me that she intended to return the game that she had bought for £32.99 the previous day because it was not fit for purpose. I asked what was wrong with it and she said that the questions were much to hard (the game was age 12 to adult). I must have looked a bit sceptical because she told me what some of the questions were.

- Who was Nebuchadnezzar

- What is an archipelago

- Who was Samuel Pepys

I was able to answer all the questions so she posed a few more which I also answered correctly. It was probably just luck that she chose questions that I was able to answer, but I was deeply offended when she told me that I only knew the answers because I am old! I thought (but didn't say) that old or not, I would not wish to publicise my ignorance by returning a game because it was too difficult! Maybe I am old, but I like to think that I could answer the questions because I have a wide general knowledge and I had a good education.

These little episodes along with the start of an annual recruitment phase at the company I work for has led me to realise that it takes all sorts to make a world - and it takes all sorts to make a good workforce. A group of people with different and complementary skills (and personalities) will make a stronger and more competent workforce. Only a fool appoints in his/her own image.

“Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not giving a damn” - Orson Welles

My son persuaded me that he absolutely had to have new clothes ready for the start of term. He is in the final year of sixth form so he doesn't have to wear uniform and he doesn't seem to have grown since the end of last term but it seems that he can't possibly cope with the clothes that he already has. So one day last week I had the joy of a shopping trip to Topman and several of his other favourite shops.

He wanted a pair if chinos, really I would have liked to just give him the money and just send him shopping on his own, but he had asked me to go with him and it is unusual for him to want us to do things together, so it was important for me to go with him. Every pair of trousers that we looked at seemed to be designed for Stretch Armstrong. Wearing them would certainly be a shape changing (and probably life changing) experience! The legs were impossibly narrow but the bottom was loose so that they give the wearer a strange bow legged look as if they have lost their horse or have had an unfortunate accident. My son assured me that they are meant to look like that, and just to be sure that I got the message he told me that old people don't understand fashion! It is so nice to have teenagers around to make me feel good about myself!!

He chose a pair of 'Stretch Armstrong' trousers with turn ups in a contrasting colour - and he dares to say that Robbie's fashion sense is weird! He then spotted another pair of trousers on the sale rail, they were the same sort of style but without the contrasting turn ups. That was the sum total of our purchases from Topman, but we still had more to buy. He chose a pair of long shorts, a patterned jumper, a pack of socks including a green pair with ducks on and one or two other bits and bobs. He was very happy with his purchases and to be fair the clothes looked better on than off, but I can't help thinking that there was a lot of truth in the words of Oscar Wilde

"Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months" - Oscar Wilde