Oh my days. I am struggling for words to reflect accurately on the last few weeks / months.
It’s July. William is moving to secondary school in September – the same one as Elliott. That’s great because we won’t have any more school runs for Lovely Bloke to juggle alongside Hope House Press and renovating the new house. It’s also hugely sad because we won’t have anyone at primary school any more and that is a huge change. We’ve benefited from William being a year behind Elliott because we are still seeing parents who are in the same boat as us – two children at two schools – we’re still getting the updates on the latter because of the former! William is totally ready for secondary. Elliott isn’t sure what he thinks to his little brother joining him.
In the house, we now have two bedrooms entirely decorated – they belong to the four international students we have staying with us through EF. They’re the biggest language school in Cambridge. Our students are all girls and under 18, so they still have curfew which works well for us. I’ll do a pro’s and con’s post on this for you another time. On the whole it’s working but we have had to do quite a bit to make it work. More details soon.
We have also painted Elliott’s bedroom – we really – well, actually – Lovely Bloke really did do it on the basis of walls we saw at the National Portrait Gallery – I’ll add a photo below.
What else? William is not sure what he wants in his room and that is ok for us for now – because we are shattered from trying to do everything. Our bedroom is completed. Well. We still have blank walls and no carpet – we have cardboard padding under our feet but it’s a huge leap from where we were. The dressing room works well when Lovely Bloke remembers to leave the blind drawn. When he doesn’t, our clothes are exposed to sunlight and start to fade. This is irritating the shizzle out of me.
Hope House Press is pootling along. I’m not there to do the marketing so it’s dropped but it’s still going and Richard is going to be doing more on that in the preparation for Christmas – there are just 23 more Sunday’s until the day itself!
I’ve done five full months at Belbin. The work is good. The people are good. I’m still in shock every day when the alarm goes off at 6.30am. I just can’t get my head around getting up and showering and going out on a routine. I sometimes interrupt my colleagues when they are mid conversation. I don’t think I am making enough rounds of tea and coffee so I either do three in one day when I remember to do it, or none at all. Still haven’t worked out what is or is not appropriate workwear or footwear. I can’t find tops that are smart and are not t shirts. That is of course all still small fry in relation to the work I am doing – my marketing campaigns are producing measurable results and new leads which is great for my confidence in the work itself. Most people have been there for ten years – heading for twenty, so I will be a new person for a couple of years at least!
My Mum had a heart attack in June. That scared the shit out of all of us. She’s now on a health regime and is well supported. I don’t know what else to write about that either. She’s losing weight and has moved to brown bread. She walks the block with her squad most nights at 7pm and they do a lot of talking about their days which is a beautiful, beautiful thing. We’re so grateful for her life as it is now.
Yes, I know I want to document – the point where my Mum had the heart attack and was in Addenbrookes. That at 3.34am I was on the phone saying to my brother that he should go to bed once and for all because there was nothing happening and everything looked routine. And that at 3.36am I was on the phone saying to get in the car that moment, and that I did not care if he was in his pj’s or naked, he should get in it right now as Mum was being taken at a trot – you know that run Dr’s do when they don’t run? – to resuscitation and there was no way I was going to be the one making big decisions for Mum on my own that night! Mum had her heart treatment – at 9am that morning and was discharged the following day at 6pm. Me? I was still in shock not knowing whether I was coming or going.
Sadly this meant that I missed Elliott being chosen as Manager’s Player of the Year – I’d been awake from Friday 6.30am and was still going at 1pm on Saturday when I needed to sleep. Suddenly. I needed to sleep. So I did. And missed his moment of glory…
So. That’s July. What’s next?