Rest and Reading

When I first moved here, exploring the new library was quite frustrating.  It was smaller than any other I had frequented and it didn't seem to follow the usual logical order.

 A library appeals to the small autistic boy that lives inside my head because while it's full of everything you could ever want to know it's organised by a clever system of numbers. A system of numbers that never changes.  It's reliable.  It's your friend.  Maths is always 510, Cookery is at 641 (with sewing and housekeeping bizarrely rather than health), flute music can be found at 788 and the occult always at 130.  Novels are kept alphabetically by author.

My local library does use the system but the numbers don't always follow a logical order around the building.  The biographies (040) are round the corner, after the music (700) and the dictionaries and How to Write Your Novel books (800) are opposite the music.  They have a 'parent's shelf', where they keep books that they think will appeal to parents so that if you are looking for a cake decorating book it might not be with the other 641.865s but may be relegated to the 'special shelf'.  Not that there are many other 641.865s as it is such a small library.  From now until Christmas they have a special Christmas stand and so finding a book on flower arranging at 745.92 is almost impossible.  And the novels.  Don't get me started on the novels.  You can't just look up an author by their name.  You have to know what type of book the library thinks it is.  Is it Historical,  Comedy, Science Fiction, Modern, Adventure etc etc.  Sometimes it's in the 'Express Zone' or on the new novel shelf (last week Aldous Huxley's Brave New World was on the new novel shelf and I know that I read it over 20 years ago).

But even with it's frustrations I LOVE THE LIBRARY.  I know I've said it before but I worry about it.  With Kindles and i-pads and computers I fear for how long it can last.  All my bookish friends who swore they'd never get a Kindle now own them and think they're wonderful and I bet they never visit the library now.

Today, the Long Suffering Husband is watching the golf. I'm staying warm, trying not to cough too much, wondering why it's so warm in Chicago (they are all wearing shorts) and was planning to read the novel I chose from the library this week.  Id picked it because I liked the cover as it reminded me of a James Dodds print and I have no idea if I will like it.  With the library there's no risk.  You've wasted nothing except the time it took you to read it.

 

My plan failed because the Long Suffering Husband has been looking after me.  He's been bringing me hot water and chocolate and brought a Telegraph Newspaper for me to read.  When I worked my way through the "How to Write Your Novel" section of the library there was one book that suggested keeping newspaper clippings of all the articles that interested you.  I'm not sure why but as I read the paper today I noticed that not all the articles held my interest equally.  I read everything, even the sport and money sections, although I didn't understand any of it but there were certainly stories that made more of an impact.

Today I have learnt that Latin lovers make better gardeners (that's not swarthy holiday waiters but people who know the Latin names of plants), New York on a budget means hotels for £100 a night, Victoria Pendleton and Louis Smith (gymnast with nice bum) are doing Strictly Come Dancing.  I've learnt that you're only as well respected as your latest novel;  JK Rowling is hated by every critic writing ( there are 3 reviews in the paper)  and that her house is for sale for £2.25 million.   The 'place to Potter' has masses of original cornices and has been empty for 2 years.  A column by Sarah Crompton suggesting , "Need friends? Play a piano," drew me in as playing the piano has never got me friends (possibly a reflection of my skill or lack of it) I skipped the four pages of advice on applying for Universit but.  I was fascinated by an article about Salman Khan, who has been making educational videos on YouTube, which have prompted the likes of Bill Gates to send him $1.5 million dollars. I also learnt that someone who bought 50 Shades of Grey for her Kindle is being plagued with suggestions for books about bondage (you'd never get that from the library)

The articles that really grabbed my attention were the one about a pill that could fight ageing (please not, I don't want to live forever -am I the only one?) and the story about the lady who got stuck in a hedge for 3 days.

I used to worry that the Internet would stop people buying newspapers just as I worry that the Kindle will end our libraries.  I hope it doesn't and I've not had so much fun reading such a diverse range of views in a long time.  I can't imagine the hedge woman making my Sky News app.

Normal Service Will Resume Shortly

Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could occasionally put up a test card for your life? There could be a big band playing a Seventies countdown type tune, just to let everyone know you're not on top form but the usual programmes will begin again soon.

I spent a lot of time watching the test card as a child.  I liked the little girl but I thought the doll she was playing noughts and crosses with was a bit spooky.  Sometimes I thought he moved. Children don't know what they're missing now.  There's never any down-time.  Never any time to watch the spooky doll and wonder if he's watching you.

Recently, I've had my test card up but today was the first day for weeks that I thought I could add the caption, "Normal service will resume shortly."  

When you work with children you can feed off their energy.  They keep you going when you would normally want to curl up in a ball and pull the duvet over your head.  Full of cold, coughing, sneezing and generally leaking all over the place I carried on because I had things planned for the kids to do. 

Today, I started to get excited about the coming term, the class assemblies, Christmas Carols, plays and I even got excited about putting displays up. 

Then it all went wrong.  Still coughing,  I was sitting on the edge of my chair during assembly, changing the music and words for the hymns.  The children were sitting quietly, listening when suddenly an invisible sprite pulled my chair from underneath me.  The chair collapsed and I landed on the floor with a loud crash.

I was already embarrassed at disturbing the assembly with my coughing and hoped the ground would swallow me up.  The children didn't seem the slightest bit bothered and my colleagues were greatly cheered up.  "That made my Friday." "That was so funny.  I could see your head and then there was a crash and it was gone."

I was looking forward to the afternoon singing, "It's a long way to Tipperary." and "Pack up your troubles."  Two wonderful partner songs (they don't write them like that any more)   

Taking the register, I realised that the coughing had taken it's toll and I wasn't able to sing, so I tried to take the register normally but it just confused the children.  Instead, I suggested they could answer by saying yes in any language.  We had French, German, Spanish, English, Australian (G'day Mate), Japanese, Chinese and then near the end one child answered, "Oooo oooo oooo oooo".

"How long have you been able to speak monkey?" I asked.  The boy looked confused, the class laughed and I coughed.

I wish I had recorded the lesson.  It turns out that you do need to be able to sing to teach singing.  I always thought that I was just lucky and the children at my school were just 'good' singers but today showed something else entirely.  I've never heard quite such out of tune singing.  It was really funny and so I coughed.  Instead, I decided to march.  Could they keep time to the music?  Did they know their left from their right?  Could they lift their knees straight?  

"Atten-shun.  By the left.  Quick...........mince!"

So, next week will be better.  Normal Service will Resume.  Whatever normal is.

Skype and other technology

The Long Suffering Husband is cross with me.

The problem is that I DO NOT like Skype. It has great benefits.  It's free and you can see the person you are talking to.  The problem comes because you get a little picture of yourself in the corner of the screen and it's not a flattering picture.

My daughter has gone to university and The LSH thought that Skype would be the ideal way to stay in touch.  I was quite happy with Facebook, Twitter, texting and the phone but he doesn't do 'social media' and rarely uses his mobile phone.  I did get a text the other night when he was out drinking.  It said, "11.30", which was the time he wanted picking up.  His friends thought it would be funny to text, "I love you soooooo much," but obviously I knew that was too many words for him.  For some reason, though, he loves Skype.

On her first night she had a bit too much to drink and ended up coming home in a Police car.  It's not quite as bad as it sounds.  She has blogged about it herself and you can read it here:
 Her blog about her first night.

 Also, she hasn't drunk since so maybe she has already learnt a lesson (the first of many she'll have, while living away from home.)  My friend I met on my first day in halls just sent me a message, saying that my daughter made us look like amateurs in our student days.  That might be true but I can't really remember, so maybe without social media and cameras that didn't turn everything blurred and fuzzy, the alcohol really did take it's toll.  I do remember nearly burning the kitchen down with everlasting birthday candles on a cake (does my whole life revolve around cake?), while doing vodka slammers.

On the Sunday, we Skyped.  It was really hard.  It was difficult to see her looking rough, and sick with a cracking hangover and not even being able to give her a hug.  She doesn't need a hug now.  She has settled in brilliantly, is really excited to start her course but I don't want to Skype.  This morning I walked into school and three people told me I looked rough.  It's true.  I have a cold.  It's probably the worst cold I've had in years and I look and sound terrible. I have joked that it is Fresher's Flu and I've caught it by looking at all the photos on Facebook and Twitter.

Skype adds wrinkles I really don't have.  Honestly, I'm not a vain person, but I don't need the extra lines on my face.  It also makes you look paler than normal and it puts dark circles under your eyes that would rival the very cute pandas in Edinburgh zoo.  If I was going to use Skype tonight I would have to get a full make up on (and I rarely wear make up) to try to disguise just how rough I actually look.

She's Leaving Home

It's my favourite Beatles song, "She's Leaving Home" but it makes me cry.  The beautiful string arrangement always brings a small tear to my eye. The two-part chorus with 'She's leaving home' interspersed with the parents thoughts, 'We gave her most of our lives, we sacrificed most of our lives, we gave her everything money could buy, Bye Bye," always made me think how hard it would be for parents when their child left home.

Today, we dropped our daughter off at University and for me it wasn't hard at all.  I hadn't been looking forward to it and felt I wasn't quite ready.  But today was a beautiful sunny day and with the car packed like a game of Jenga (The Long Suffering Husband is the Packing King) we set off up the M1 to Leicester.  We shared the motorway with many other parents and their offspring doing exactly the same thing and it was quite interesting to spot the duvets, ironing boards, huge multi-packs of crisps, George Foreman Health Grills and other paraphernalia that seem to be essential for student life.

We had been given loads of advice about student life. Useful things like:
1. Have a nice laundry bag so you can talk to people about it in the laundrette.
2. Get your parents to make your bed when you first get there so that your room feels homely straight away.
3. Get a doorstop, so you can keep your door open and be friendly.
4.  Steal a traffic cone (not sure about this one!)
5. You can still eat mouldy bread (just scrape it off!)
6. Take lots of photos with you.

Possibly because DMU is a great University and she has made a brilliant choice (and because the sun was shining) moving in was very simple.  We were met at the car park by a herd of orange T-shirts who carried things from the car to her room, chatting and smiling the whole time.  The atmosphere was wonderful, full of excitement and people making friends all in the same position.  It reminded me of my first day moving into halls, talking too much and making friends for life.  And as a mother I stopped worrying and remembered how much fun she was going to have. Facebook has allowed her to 'talk' to her flatmates before she moved in and they all seem like really nice girls from the few "hellos," we shared.

Apart from leaving an emotional sibling with her when we moved the car everything went very smoothly.

Will I miss her?  Of course I will.  I will miss the chats and the nail varnish and the person who says, "Oooh cake.......I've got a headache now," but I know that she is ready and that's all that matters.
Now, it's just me in the house with 3 (if you include the dog) boys and I'm the only one who can't pee standing up (except, of course, when I cough, laugh or sneeze).

A case of mistaken identity

Today has been spent disguising things.  I have grated courgettes for my Greek Pie, "No, of course there are no courgettes in there!" and I have tried to make a chocolate cake with beetroot in it.  I won't be making the cake again, even chocolate can't hide the taste of earthy beetroot.  I have turned raspberries into cupcakes and raspberry ripple ice cream.  In fact, I have disguised myself as a domestic goddess.

When I was in town this morning I kept talking to people I knew only to find they were not who I thought they were.  When I got up close I found they were usually much younger versions.  Now that I've cleaned my glasses, though, random strangers don't have my friend's wrinkles.

Do you think you'd be any good in an identity parade?  Could you spot someone that you'd seen before?  Would you be able to describe someone if you were asked?  I wondered this as I thought about all the strangers I'd seen this morning with wrinkles.  My parents were discussing someone at the allotment and my Dad said, "You mean the black lady?" to which my Mum replied, "Where's she black?"  I hope they never get called to an identity parade.

Walking the dog this morning a very strange thing happened.  A cat came running up to him and rubbed noses.  This confused both me and the dog for a while and I said, "Hello Puss?"  A heavily muscled, colourfully tattooed man with a skinhead haircut appeared from his garage and replied, "Oh, hello!"  The cat arched it's back and hissed and I giggled out a, "Good Morning!"

Not the man I saw just a picture I found on the internet

I wonder if Puss is this man's nickname or he just thought I was being exceptionally friendly?