It’s a sad day. Not just because this is the last day of the NaNoPoBlano challenge but because tonight…..I sang my last twinkle twinkle little star to my son. It’s a funny thing but after 20 odd years of parenting I didn’t think of this as being a milestone. Quite often though, these milestones are slotted in between minutes that are hurried and unexpected. And this was definitely the latter. Why the significance? Maybe it’s because he is my last, maybe it’s because he is my loudest or maybe because he chose this milestone himself. He lay in his racing car bed, looked at me and said, “I’m getting big now Mummy. No more songs – I can go to sleep all by myself”. While my throat tightened and I swallowed hard, i also felt the joy that you feel when your child makes a decision for themselves; based upon them realising something about themselves. This is definitely something I have been so much more aware of with smallest. It doesn’t matter how long they have a bottle or stay in nappies or in this case how long they like to be sung to sleep for, what matters is that they feel in themselves when the time is right for them to grow. Allowing them the space to feel for themselves when things are right, helps them to transfer this knowledge to all situations in life. Making sure they aren’t imposed upon helps them learn to feel based upon what they experience within, rather than due to someone else’s expectation.

So it’s a bittersweet moment. I am just blessed to have the opportunity to have sung this nursery rhyme in the town where its lyrics were composed, to three beautiful children who maybe one day will do the same.

And that’s it from me for this challenge. It’s been a blast and I have really enjoyed reading some amazing and inspiring posts. From the inspirational work of Anyes to the information loaded posts by Steven, the beautiful words of Ra and all in between, I have enjoyed it all. Much love and goodnight 👍

This was a header for a previous post though looking back I don’t feel it was necessarily entirely well placed.

Today though i feel I have found a better space to use it, here in my penultimate post for the month. A month when I picked up the challenge to write 10 posts, (I opted for 10/10/10) and when I found myself indoors mostly- again. I have only been blogging for a short while; it has given me immense pleasure and has allowed me to use some of that brain power which has been redundant since I stripped my life down a few months back. Most of my posts , if not all have featured one of my three children but I felt this time round I wanted to think without them.

So anyway I thought I would write something about what I have learned of life recently. Something that has been useful to me and which I might share, on the off chance it might offer something to others.

Life has offered me plenty of possibilities and chucked some difficulties along for good measure. Some I have walked into and at other times I have turned away. The choice I have made recently though has shown me that life is not as hard if you can let yourself be present. Don’t let past moments intrude on who you are or cast your mind too deeply into the future to check out the impact of the present. In the words of the Chemical Brothers just “let forever be”.

This morning i awoke thinking about this poem it, I wrote it down and then looked back at the original. I realised that my memory of it is skewed and what I thought I had written originally is actually what I think now. So I wrote them both to marvel at the fallibility of memory but also how this can occur in the service of who we have become.

Rules are there to be broken mistakes are there to be made;rules they all make and mistakes we all make and our memories of this they won’t fade. Ez June 1995

Rules are there to be broken,

mistakes, there to be made.

Rules we all break,

Mistakes we all make,

Memories with time will fade.

Esther December 2020

We love Moana here in Alexandra Road. My daughter and my youngest can recite large chunks of Disney’s 56th film and where there is a thank-you , you can guarantee a chorus of “your welcome” will reverberate from one room or another. By far their favourite line from the film is “Boat snack” , which is delivered with impeccable timing when food is presented or just on cue when they sit down to watch it – again.

We were chatting about our different reasons for our obsession the other day. “Middles” was crouched on the floor perusing the snack cupboard (no twinkies here folks) and debating the merits of a Mr. Kipling cake vs several Rich Tea biscuits. I was busy sorting the recycling. Placing the batteries in a old cereal box ready for the battery bank, I contemplated how diverse we were. We all focus upon completely different aspects of the film yet still came together to enjoy it together. My daughter carries on staring at the snacks. I continue my consideration stating how, Middles loves musicals and has encyclopaedic knowledge of all things Disney. Smallest loves Maui and volcanoes and I just love the sea. “So you see love we are nearly all catered for”. “Mmm” she responds.

Oldest though is not quite feeling Moana on the same level. For him , he has learned to love it not because he has seen it but because while we are watching it , we are mostly quiet which, he says, is quite frankly a ‘bloody miracle’.

My daughter chuckled at this and opted for the Mr. Kipling Cherry Bakewell. Good choice.

Forward wind to the next morning, I listen to each set of footsteps emerge from their rooms. There is the unmistakeable clicking of my daughters toes as she comes downstairs and the racing car like pounding of smallest as he descends after her. I hear them settle in the front room shortly before eldest comes down and avoiding the hive of play which buzzes in the living room , I hear his steady passage into the kitchen.

I feel it’s time to join them and so head upstairs leaning towards the day and into the kitchen.I say morning through the hatch to the youngest before greeting my son.

I stop. Standing there , with his bowl and his spoon is eldest. He looks down at his bowl with a puzzled look on his face and I give a stifled laugh.

“Why”, he pauses and frowns, “are there batteries in my cereal?” he looks at me and then down again.

“Er well…..” I begin, “I….” .Before I can finish though , from the living room I hear in stereo a cry,

“Boat snack!”

Last night sitting in the living Room my daughter was reading through some film studies notes with me. We had a thoughtful discussion about John Trubys’ framework for character which was discussed in relation to the brilliant Shaun of the Dead. Anyway my daughter explained how Truby outlines the 3 basic elements of character as weakness, need and desire. I really love it when she’s shares her learning and this in particular was interesting stuff. It did , of course, prompt me to consider this in relation to myself – what is my weakness, my need and my desire? And in turn what would you guys consider your own to be? I wonder if perhaps others that knew us would concur or perhaps they would perceive differently?

Weakness- this is tricky not because I can’t think of it but because of connotations linked to what I will say. I am addict. I have been clean for 18 years but I started to use drugs when I was 13 and so by my mid twenties the addiction was well established. I tend to do things to excess so I have to be careful about having a drink or smoking cigarettes.

Need – to be here with and for the kids. It has proved to be so beneficial taking this year out so far.

Desire – to fulfil my writing ambitions and finish the book I recently started writing. To perhaps be in another relationship one day.

Last night I thought about the last time I went to a gig. It was with my daughter for her 15th birthday last year. We both enjoyed it however for her it was particularly special as it was the first time she saw Dodie live. Dodie is her first music love. Memories of the night have not faded, unfortunately not just because of Dodies’ performance. On the way home someone took their life, by jumping onto the track that our train was travelling along at a high speed.

We were in the train all night talking to passengers and the driver of the train. The driver , it turned out was an ex-serviceman and this was not his first suicide experience. He explained the process that would hold us here for a few hours and him for a month at home. His tone was somber but it cracked when someone asked him how he coped. “Music”, he said “I am a musician”.

I sat holding my daughters hand and watching the other passengers, occasionally chipping at their conversation which was slow and stunted. Everyone revealed something of their nature that night, myself included, some of it good , some of it sad.

When we got home we lit a candle for the person who died. We didn’t know anything about them but we both felt the despair of someone so unhappy and scared that their actions that night were the only option for them.

This is the poem I wrote shortly afterwards.

Back Track

This was the day that run on time.

On this present tour you are in between five enemies,

acting now in the service of the train operator,

Here you can only muster the occasional control,

As when push comes to shove,

and in the absence of either,

you are ordered to stare into the face of death,

and wait for its hold to slow us down.

How many times have people sought the tranquility of the track gauge?

Like a stinger thrown down,

a persistent thought, a heavy sadness straddles the track.

In tonight’s delay, our shared experience,

Cast us into a cell, where we share our crimes

Him for his infidelity,

Her for getting drunk with her teenage daughter

Him for being so drunk he cannot remember

And her , for her lack of support,

myself, standing on the outside of who i am.

It is hard to imagine why you, so delicate and wise are here,

Your presence is an anchor,

You allow a vestige of times normal velocity

running life towards a station on the main line

in waves of emotion heralded as the Driver and

His guitar walk off the platform to only he knows where,

After the train took life from the track.

I feel very basic right now. Stripped to the most primitive of emotions. Some days even raw. On these days I seek to protect myself. Not hide, just preserve the very building blocks of what I am. Taking a career break and renouncing all of my study for a year has given me a lot of space to ‘be’ in.
I had an emotional childhood which led me into a very distressing adolescence. While I am at home this year, enjoying time with my youngest before he heads to school next September, I have decided to try to put together these years into a novel. Not a memoir, as I didn’t want to bring myself too close to what was. A novel i felt would help preserve some of the distance I have created.
As a means of filling in some of the gaps I hauled out a box
today full of poems, diary entries, stories and pictures which I created during these years. There is a lot of material and I sat down late this afternoon with the intention of going through it all. I lasted 45 minutes and only scratched the surface of the contents. I realised then that it was too difficult and took me away from where I am now and to a place , which from my reading today , seemed I had forgotten an awful lot about.
What I did find though ,that I could read was a ream of poems some of which I read and re- read this evening.
They have sat there unseen by anyone since I packed them up when my eldest was a small child. So around 15 years.

The girl who I was then wasn’t really heard, so I thought I would give her a voice here and post what she felt 25 years ago.

This poem is called , The last laugh is on me.

The last laugh……………..

Expectations,
Running high- in my eyes,
But in yours I see doubt.
You believe, you say
But do you see
there is a seed; planted
Way back
Waiting to germinate-
Ready to explode
Nurtured by achievements,
Each one better than the last,
Each one smothers doubts breath.

I know it will remain unsown,
For now
Silent, hopeless,
Till that day
When you, no doubt
(But you will)
Your own integrity.
For what you have done
Is judge
And that my friend
Was a mistake. .................is on me.

My response to this now?

Well, I think that is in the title of this blog post.

The UK sits in the centre of where 6 different air masses meet which accounts for the breadth of weather conditions. Where we live in the south easterly corner, 50 miles from London, we experience probably the best of the conditions thrown our way and certainly the warmest.
Not only is the weather in our favour here in Essex but so too is our proximity to the coastline. For me anyway, this is of paramount importance; I am a beach lover and I have raised my children to appreciate all things with a coastal
link . Interestingly , I have noticed recently that it instils in my youngest, a state of calm which we chased today.

I pondered where to head. 

We are 2 hours from Cromer on the North Norfolk Coast. Here you experience chilly winds but good surf conditions and the greatest fish and chip shop on the planet. No. 1 Cromer. Heading south , we are also 2 hours from Brighton a city of acceptance where you can be yourself as you trail the quirkiest shops and a host of traditional pubs. I needed somewhere nearer , wasn’t really up for Clacton-on-Sea or Walton and high tide meant we weren’t getting on to Mersea for another hour. There was a certain urgency to us getting out on this day. Lots of emotions flying around and as a Mum you feel when you need to disperse these quickly for your children,in the absence of them being able to do it for themselves. So this week people we chose – Harwich.

Harwich is the UKs second busiest sea ferry port and lies south of Felixstowe port, visible from where we went today. It is suggested that this is where the Mayflower was built before she travelled to Plymouth. From here the Pilgrim Fathers made their voyage to Massachusetts in the U.S.
Although there is no confirmed record of this , keen to redress the perception of Plymouth as the origin of the Mayflower , local historians have identified the Mayflower as being designated in the Port Books of 1609-11 as being of Harwich Essex. It doesn’t seem an unfair conclusion given that her master, Christopher Jones was also born and married in Harwich.

Anyway, Harwich is steeped in this history and we made our way past the commemorative quay today looking at the signs and boats in dock. 

We ended our walk at the beach – of course- to have a snack and play.

As we sat there the little chap wandered off to explore, i marvelled at another day of well, good weather, outdoor play and just felt incredibly blessed to have this space around me where I can take the children and blow away any cobwebs.

We drove back, the line of the horizon so clean it shone. The sky immaculate, our heads clear.
The light from where we headed dazzled and smallest said “That is beautiful mummy”. And it was. More so because when a four year old says so it, touches something that you can’t quite put your finger on but you know it to be the purest truth.

So with our mission accomplished, we arrived home taking inside what we had achieved and shared it with the others.

Mersea is the most easterly inhabited island in England and is around 10 miles from my home town of Colchester.

It’s a small island, home to approximately 7000 residents. At low tide it joins the mainland but at high tide ,water separates the Mersea Islanders from us all.

Everyone I know has forgotten the tide at one point and ended up stranded for an hour or so before the tide has drifted out. Me included. I managed not only to hold myself back but the 12 students I had on board the minibus, hired to take them on an outdoor adventure. Getting stuck wasn’t part of the itinerary granted but hey, I felt it added a certain je be sais quoi to the day. I aim to please……

Anyway, as I mentioned in my previous post, with the whole lockdown 2 swinging by, I have been planning various field trips (literally) and other excursions, as part of our daily exercise allowance. Fortunately this time round there isn’t a specified mileage (probably not wise to travel to Durham though Mr. Cummings) so Mersea was top of my list. This is not least because Mersea is always my go to spot and has been since I was small. Now I have some small people of my own – well ok technically one as the others have passed my eye line- I have carried the tradition forward and on Sunday smallest and I drove out at low tide.

It was beautiful. Gulls flickered in the morning sunshine, the beach hummed with conversation (clearly i am not the only one with a big brain 😂) and the open beach offered plenty to occupy us. We got stuck in mud, buried our feet in the sand, collected shells and got stuck in more mud. It definitely set us up for the week.

And it’s left me thinking ; if that was the only decent weather day we get this time round, then it was a morning we will always remember.

No I am not referring to the new era for Americans who I am very happy for ( had a celebratory Fish ‘n’ Chip supper here at our house for all of you). Neither am I referring to the less than 2 months that Boris and Co. have left to somehow, establish a deal with the EU. No I am, of course referring to the start of the daily walk as part of our exercise allowance throughout #Lockdown 2. I am very excited (ahem) to be planning a return to the wheat and barley fields in Halstead (exciting stuff!), minus the wheat and barley. So probably better referred to as the mud fields. May even throw in a few beach walks. How I have missed it……..!!!!

I should add though that I am very grateful to be living so near to places that can offer a bit of respite from the gruelling task of staying indoors. No doubt there will be tears and tantrums but you can bet your bottom dollar they won’t occur when we put on our coats and wellies and head out for a walk.