Come on in to the coffee house and join me for a cuppa and a chat. Continue reading
The cat is scratching at the door, hoping for someone to stand there and watch as he takes a moment to decide whether or not to venture out into the wilderness. While he sits there contemplating life, come on into the mess and join me for a cup of coffee and some packing.
As you sidestep the boxes lining the passageway to the kitchen and take in the ambiance of plastic containers blocking the dishwasher, tell me about your weekend. Did you manage to get all the writing done that you needed to or finish off the project that has been waiting to be tackled? I spent the weekend celebrating my littlest sprog’s birthday and cleaning out the shed. Both seemed satisfied with the results asI have a happy sprog and empty shed.
Here’s your mug. Be careful, it’s hot!
As the shed spewed out its contents into the garden, my happy little workers (aka my sprogs and hubble) became rather distracted by the interesting boxes littering the area. Toys and photographs that had survived a year in the dark recesses of their forced solitary confinement in said shed dazzled them with their memories and soon all work came to a halt. Exclamations of joy could be heard by my lovely neighbours when a cuddly bear received long lost kisses and a few tears were spilt over the discovery of a journal dedicated to the first born. The unlucky sprog that found the journal was so unimpressed with the effort made, she burst into tears and had to be consoled. You see, I started writing this special journal back when the sparkle still glinted in my eye and I thought the world revolved around my only child.
Of course, when the other sprogs descended on my rosy, ecstatic world, time became a rare commodity and technology had moved on from paper journals.
Trying to reassure her that she has her own special journal saved on a disk somewhere seemed to stop the waterworks and the extra mummy hugs and kisses hopefully sealed away the pain of thinking she was less loved. Being a mum is tough and convincing each child that they are unique and special is really exhausting.
After settling them all back into their chores, we managed to clear the garden, pack everything back into plastic boxes and start on the garage. What an incredible amount of junk we keep in our storage areas! Moving has its own good purpose – cleansing the soul and the clutter!
Now that most of the troublesome areas have been sorted, we can breathe a sigh of relief and let the removals people do the rest. From next week, I will be reporting to you from a different town/village. I can’t wait.
Until then, thanks for joining me for our last coffee together in this house.
It will be time to say good-bye soon. Our bat cave here in the foresty groves of Woodley will be gone and a new bat cave will have to be sought. It’s a strange feeling, leaving the friends we have made and the areas we have grown to love. Over the past week, our fellow dog-walkers have said their good-byes and sent on their well wishes. To some, I have promised copies of my books and to others, I am holding onto their contact details to continue our blossoming friendship.
Henry the dog will be sad leaving his friends. He has met so many lovely four legged friends and has spent many an hour frolicking in the field in front of our temporary home, racing and barking with his playmates. Now, we are looking forward to pure forest with an abundance of space that sparks the imagination. Like my dear friend, Colleen the Fairy Whisperer, I hope to meet some fairies in the forests close to the new house and spend time getting to know their secrets.
With the summer quickly approaching, the promise of long, late evenings and early mornings means more time spent outdoors – something I thoroughly enjoy. The countdown has begun and soon the packing will become a priority, even to a prolific procrastinator like me!
While we still have this time together in this house, let us enjoy a cup of coffee and a slice of home made chocolate cake as we reminisce over the very short year we have spent in this space. The world is so big and we have only bitten into a tiny inconsequential piece of it, craving to take a larger chomp when finances allow. The children already have itchy feet and are planning their own trips for next year. I fear the world is going crazy and I don’t relish the idea of releasing them into the wild on their own. But alas, the world is no more crazy than it was a hundred years ago and I can’t stop them from growing up.
If you could choose a place to go, where would it be? How many homes have you lived in in your lifetime? For me, this will be the eleventh in 42 years! Who can beat that?
Poetry about Life, Love, Music by Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet
mostly reading, but sometimes i write
Creating worlds, exploring the infinite beyond our knowledge and imagination.
The ups and downs of a working mum
Thoughts about writing, and the universe.
About Psychology & Philosophy
Life is a broadway musical and everyday is a song. These are mine manifested as poetry.
words, glorious words...
FOR A NEW TOMORROW