Hmm, so that last post was a bit mental. I didn't reread and edit it like I should have, so that's just raw produce from the thinking factory. Here's some more...
Well I've been meandering along wishing I had a buddy my own age. When I step out of the house I see parents, kids and old people. Sometimes, when a girl under thirty without a pram walks by, I want to grab her by the shoulders and say: "You DO exist in this town!" Or a man who isn't grey haired or slouching passes me on the path I think to myself "So it's not a soccer-mum-bmw-retirement-home-bus-stop pocket of the world after all! NB: That is a grotesque generalisation of my image of my village so far.
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| A quaint bin |
When I was stepping out of the post office today after these thoughts had been eeling through my head for a while, I saw a girl who I'd seen before going through the nursery at pick up time. She was early twenties, tall, really pretty, and snippets that I'd heard of her accent sounded European. She was jogging along and stepped beside me to say hello. (Man, if I was a guy you would read this paragraph so differently!) Anyway we're two somewhat alienised Au Pairs and I don't know why God would want to do good things for me but there you go. I wanted a friend and here's a really nice Italian girl who is here till September. I saw another squirrel today and the sun even came out this morning - for a bit. Though it hardly climbed above 8 degrees all day and rained at lunch, time I'm not losing hope. When the "get on a plane and go home" thought comes along, which it does occasionally, it's always snuffled with "you would regret that forever, but this is going to be really good for you in pleasant and unpleasant ways." (The funny thing about a thought, though, is that when you
think it you don't have to construct it into a sentence, and so I read that and think it's part of some lame scientist-villain's monologue and now I'm hearing his annoying nasal voice and imagining I'm strapped to a dentist chair. Cool. Any suggestions for a better word than "pleasant" would be welcome.)
At Heathrow Airport after I got off the plane, there's a lot of walking to do and I passed a toilet block but I went into the one just before the UK border (the bit where you line up and show your passport). To look "my best" for my new host family I was about to meet, I redid my hair and brushed my teeth, I put some deodorant on and then looked in the mirror and said something like "OK. Let's go live the rest of my life!"
I think (hopefully) I'm understanding and gaining the overlapping distinction between
needing your family and
loving your family. I have needed my family for perhaps more than I even realise now, but with them so far away and tricky to talk to it makes you do stuff on your own. What I mean is, I'm doing that last bit of growing up. I think. I always worry that there's so much I don't know about being older... Oh wait, that's not something to worry about, really, is it. If I knew everything I'd be dead or wish I was.
Enough philosophy!
OK, to be honest, I'm sort of scared that all this "I'm cool with it" business and 'coping well' is a facade, and really deep down everything is an imminent explosion of panic, sadness, insecurity and, well, not
being well. It's hard to know. But maybe I am just big enough to handle it - most of it - with what I've got. I guess I've come at the right time.
Now really, onto lighter things!
Here's a photo of the view from my window...
It was a really sunny day that day. The buildings look kind of boring in this picture, but really they're lovely. Mostly unique, too. I love the ones with wisteria growing around the windows. The whole street is lined with blossom trees and there's a classic red post box opposite our house. Not that we don't have them in Australia, but it gives it that touch, you know? It's a very wealthy area. I'm enough of an outsider being Aussie, but my oh my, I can just imagine the looks I'd get driving Theodore (my '98 camry) around with his usual dust coat. I'm even thinking about buying a hair straightener!?! Oh dear.
The music taste of Little Man (not that I ever call him that, he's nearly 10, but for want of a better code name I'll stick to it) is 1960 - 1990 rock, mostly, so we like to talk about U2 and The Rolling Stones, and he also loves The Police and ACDC. That Gotye song is a favourite as well, and I've heard it on the radio 3 times now. He plays a bit of guitar and piano and is happiest when he's being helpful - but sometimes a little over enthusiastic with peeling carrot!
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| Shaun Tan dandelion bud |
There was something else I wanted to say but I can't remember what, so I'll finish with some more pictures. Yes, I like flowers and trees and quirky village stuff - if you want Big Ben you can google it. Daisies grow in the sunny parts but bluebells grow everywhere, wild all along the river. The other day Little Miss and I went for a walk. It's shady and lush and a little purple or white bunch of bluebells is so enchanting. If fairies weren't thought of yet, you'd certainly envisage them (or yourself as one) in this place.
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| Me and Little Miss |
