Well I got that one wrong...

... "the end of the Crying Weeks"? I don't think so.

I can't believe it, I managed to cry THREE times today. Humph!

This morning we went into the City centre, to an area I rarely go into; in fact I hadn't been there since the boys were little and we had to rush into the toilets for one of those "couldn't you have said something earlier?" moments. And suddenly it all came back - I was imagining their little faces and getting tearful and... what was that about?

Later on I met up with a group of bereft mums, though we were more focussed on food & gossip than missing our offspring. It seems that some kids (but not mine) come back even after a week - an amazing fact until I discovered that this was to see beloved girlfriends, rather than beloved parents, so I could stop being jealous.

So all was going well  until I got home and tried to install this new whizzo super-gadget TV thingy. We had bought it this morning from a chap who knows a great deal about telly technology and has a boy who has just gone to Nottingham university. See! everyone is missing their kids AND telling the world about it. Anyhow we had to unplug playstations & stuff to install it & somehow the playstations set me off again. Pathetic.

And finally I went for a brisk stomp around the countryside to shake off the cobwebs and get in touch with nature. It was something about the lovely sunset, the lowing of cows (lowing? I think that's the word, the cattle around baby Jesus did it & I'm sure it's the same thing) and the gentle baa-ing of sheep, and suddenly I was blubbing again. Until I noticed that uncannily all the sheep around me were making a mass exodus into the adjacent field at a fair old lick. I can't help but think that my bawling was putting them off their greens and they were after some peace and quiet.

So much for nature!

Procrastination

Have I mentioned procrastination? Hmmm.... no, probably meant to but never got round to it.

Anyhow, today I discovered that I am a master of procrastination; so good, in fact, that I don't even know that I'm doing it. This morning I had a reflective moment and realised that I was carrying out the little easy jobs I had to do, none of the heavy duty stuff "because I might tire myself out too early". What a load of cobblers. And I believed it; I am too gullible.

I also continue to be a complete thicko and managed to send someone an email with an "interesting link", forgetting to include the link.

But it seems that this is OK as last night I had a reassuring evening with the girls (or should I say ladies as although we all met as spring chickens with new babies, the babies have flown the nest and we are a tad older). Yes, we have all got major meltdown of our memory banks, but are more concerned with suffering from withdrawal symptoms from our departed offspring; major trips to Tesco are becoming a rare event, housework seems to have shrivelled to almost nothing and no-one is getting woken in the night by an apparent herd of elephants careering round the house after a night on the beer.

I also learned that many of these bereft mothers are planning a whole new social life and can't wait to get on with it. It seems the Crying Weeks are well and truly over!

The Bad, The Good and the Undecided

Driving back from Dad's I managed to create 120 miles worth of fuel - how brilliant is that?

It seems I have been driving the car like a reckless hooligan,
(sorry Dad)
but when I am forced to drive slowly
(and this just goes to show that it is not all bad with average speed cameras on the motorway)

the whizzo gadget that tells me how many miles of fuel are left in the tank suddenly decides that I am now a Good Driver

so can go a Lot Further.

Thank You car.


Boys? what boys?
I think I must be getting over it.

I mentioned the Crying Weeks to a friend today, as I gave her an update on those two lovely lads who I lived with for so many years (!) She looked horrified and grabbed my arm as she searched my eyes and asked if I was going to cry now? nothing, not even a teeny drop squeezed its way out of my tear ducts. Have I become hardened, or am I just getting on with things?

Falling Apart

You know that sinking feeling you get, when you realise that there’s something you should have done, but have forgotten to? Well I got that last night, closely followed by “or did I forget?”

The task in question is sending my brother a card for his birthday – he will be 50, so this is quite an occasion – but have I forgotten to send a card? or have I already sent one? I can remember thinking about it, I think I can remember selecting a card, but I have absolutely no recollection of posting it – and I would remember that bit, as he lives in Australia & so I would need a special stamp.

I have decided to blame this on the Crying Weeks (never knew they would be so handy) and so have sent him a (second?) card, explaining that he has to forgive me (perhaps) because I am distraught and thereby unable to function properly.

Today I learned that I wrote £30 on a cheque when I had just been asked to write one for £35.  Fortunately they recognised a hapless imbecile when they saw one & let me off the extra £5. Pitiful really.

What the hell am I going to do when the Crying Weeks are over & I no longer have any excuses?

A Near Inferno?

Every now and then I go and stay with my Dad while my step-mum is away ‘just in case’. So I set off early this morning, through the misty murk, to be greeted with driving rain by the time I got to Milton Keynes. The temperature has nose-dived too and I’m beginning to suspect we have skipped autumn and gone straight to winter. Humph!

My first port of call was to a place where I offer homeopathy to some nuns. Not only do I get to scrape my Karma level up from zero to a more positive number, but they are lovely people too so I come away feeling happy and good (!) Mind you, this time I was lucky to come away at all as I had somehow failed to notice that there were two heaters on in the room. By the end of the day someone came in to clear up and on unplugging the second heater (duh!) found that everything had got so heated the plug had melted away!!!! a bit longer & I guess it would have gone up in flames.

(You know I had been a bit mystified as to why I kept turning the other heater down, and eventually off, and still the room was hot)

Anyway, I am now safely with my Dad and enjoying the Hampshire countryside once again. Skipping off for a brief country stroll I bumped into a woman-on-a-mission carrying armfuls of raspberries and waving a cheery hello as she whistled past me.  Was I in the Archers?

Then the phone rang and it was one of my boys. Immediately on the alert for signs of hunger, sadness or sleep deprivation I grilled him on his first day at university. Of course any normal person would have guessed that today was fine, but it is still taking me a while to realise that my boys are more than capable of surviving away from The Nest.

So no scope for crying there. Hmmmm...  

Ian's Therapy

Well of course, it's not just me missing the boys - Ian is too, so today we set off in search of stuff to Brew Beer as he reckons this will be a good hobby to keep him occupied in the quiet months ahead. And it seems he is not alone, whilst perusing the many gadgets & gizmos required to brew (and you know how chaps love gadgets & gizmos) a lovely fella bowled up and started giving us tips on How to Brew Beer Successfully - quite fascinating really, but his enthusiasm was unparalleled! His wife even joined in, noting that there was a brewers' starter kit on offer at the front to the shop (all this & it wasn't even a brewing shop).

We left, ladened down with buckets & bits and with a warm feeling that someone had wanted to share. Nice.

Later, Ian went off to discuss beer tactics with his brewing buddies and I started on the tiny remainder of the house that has not been scrubbed to within an inch of its life. This did not keep me occupied for long so I decided to book one of my adventures - Naomi takes Ireland by storm (OK, a 3 day mini-break, but it still involves overseas travel!)

I will be going to visit my son in Belfast [huh! that separation didn't last long!]  then on to the Hills of Tara, which I have been told are historically interesting and, if it's raining, (and let's face it that's almost a dead cert.) who knows what I might find...

Laughing Therapy

Oh blimey, and I was doing so well.

Talked to my son who is now living in a remote, cold garret  in the Cold North, with no heating and little insulation, as the icy wind howls around the roof tiles and creeps into his cavernous, freezing room.

What? you think I am over egging it a bit? well perhaps, but the main problem remains that one of my babies is COLD and I cannot do anything to help.

To be fair he has probably forgotten the conversation we had earlier on, but since about 9,30 this morning I have been worrying how to help my temperature-challenged offspring. Still, 3 hours of scouring the internet for every type of heater, and places that sell them & I think I am finally calming down a bit.

His brother (luxuriating in university halls of residence, so no heating problem there!) seems fine. Which is good as I can only cope with one source of neurosis at a time (possibly a symptom of the menopause, because I'm sure I used to be able to multi-task my angsts).

Mother is fine too, although she had me up a wobbly ladder in church today as the Harvest Festival ladies scattered apples, sweetcorn (from Tesco, not the local farm I suspect!) and pumpkins around ready for tomorrow. She is doing some research on the church and needed a second opinion on a wall plaque. After climbing up half a dozen steps and squinting through the cobwebs I confirmed that indeed it is a wall plaque.

Off to the theatre soon to see some comedy - part of my therapy - and hope that I am able to enjoy a good few belly laughs to celebrate the end of the first Crying Week.