Feeling Old!

I'm feeling old! I keep blaming Robbie for wearing me out, but I think the cold I had last week has exhausted me. I can cope with sniffles and sneezing, bit it made me ache all over and I alternated between feeling shivery and being too hot. The cold has more or less gone but it has left me with an annoying cough and it has started my asthma off, so I am feeling tired and frustrated. Robbie tries his best to say the right thing but he never gets it quite right, he assures me that I'm not old but rather than quitting while he's ahead he always goes on to say 'well not to me anyway' and that gives a completely different message!!

I had one of those 'end of an era' feelings last week. Laura had her last ever lesson at the music centre, she has decided to give up lessons to concentrate on her A Level exams. I have been going to the music centre for so many years that it will seem very strange not to have to go anymore. Laura plays the Saxophone very well and I love listening to her play, but it took her a while to find an instrument that suited her. Emily knew from the beginning that she wanted to play the flute and she went from strength to strength. Laura began with the clarinet, in fact she continued playing the clarinet until last year, but she always longed to play the saxophone. Somehow a music teacher convinced her that she really should play the oboe instead. I remember the oboe phase in excruciating detail, it sounded like a duck being tortured and it coincided with Sam's early adventures on the violin - it was agony! Laura didn't enjoy the oboe and before long she took up the saxophone instead, she must have been playing the Saxophone for about seven years now. All my prayers were answered when Sam gave up the violin in favour of the cornet - a much more tolerable sound! I am not very musical, in fact I am pretty close to being tone deaf, but I know when it is painful and the oboe phase was memorable for all the wrong reasons.

I met my new nephew for the first time on Sunday, he is lovely. They have decided to call him Oliver John, that is quite a relief because my brother wanted to call him Cecil - poor little chap that would have been cruel!

No Oil Painting! 14.07.07

I had to go and collect Emily from the Music Centre at about 10pm yesterday evening when her group returned triumphant from the National Music for Youth Festival in Birmingham. It is at times like this that I am glad she plays the flute rather than the cello because she can carry her instrument in her bag and we don't have to hang around while the larger instruments are unloaded from the luggage compartment. Laura who now plays the saxophone and the clarinet once had a brief flirtation with the oboe, I don't know much about music but that stretched my endurance to the limit, I can only describe the sound as something akin to a constipated duck! It was far worse than Sam's early exploration of the violin and I have to admit to a huge sigh of relief when he abandoned the violin in favour of the cornet.

Anyway back to yesterday, apparently due to a misunderstanding Robbie had thought he was coming with me to collect Emily, but I thought he was staying at home and I drove off without him. He was noticeably absent when Emily and I returned and Sam informed us that he had stomped off to bed in a strop. I still had a few things to do so I left him to enjoy his strop in peace. When he didn't appear after an hour or so I locked up and went to bed. I savoured the peace and quiet of the bathroom for a few minutes before braving the scene in the bedroom. I expected to find him sitting on the bed with his laptop, still in a strop with that characteristic frown, bottom lip thrust out and arms defiantly crossed. I always think of it as the 'toddler tantrum look' and however cross he makes me that look always makes me smile. The TV was on and one of his vast library of railway DVD's was still playing. Robbie, who had propped himself up on pillows was laying on the bed snoring gently, wearing absolutely nothing. I can't find the right words to describe the vision (what is the opposite if seductive anyway). It made me think of Beryl Cook's paintings and the way that she accurately observes the absurdities of human behaviour with her solid larger than life characters. She is one of my favourite artists. I think perhaps that memory of Robbie in that comical pose will stay with me for a long time and I am sure it will always make me smile, however frustrating he is at times.

I woke Robbie up and made him set his alarm clock and attend to other essential tasks, but he didn't make much sense. He was planning to make an early start because he was going to a Diesel Gala at Barrow Hill, some sort of celebration of Class 20's I think. I was planning to sleep in after a long and difficult week.

Robbie's alarm clock went off and he went on snoring, the alarm continued and he continued snoring, wide awake and increasingly frustrated I thumped Robbie, he thumped the clock and peace was restored. I woke again at our usual weekday alarm time to find 'sleeping beauty' still sleeping. I woke him and he sprang out of bed as if his tail was on fire. He raced around the house attending to his morning ablutions like Benny Hill on fast forward, then I was press-ganged into providing a lift to the station. I left him there in his Bart Simpson shorts with his huge rucksack, carrying his thermos mug with a double size latte to sustain him on the first leg of his journey. I drove away determined that one day I really will get to enjoy a leisurely Saturday morning