(Bonus points to anybody who can name the game…)
Been a hectic couple of weeks in Sarah-land. After some very hectic stuff both at home and work, Dearly Beloved and I decided on a whim to have a rare weekend away together, which we achieved last week. Was many shades of awesome: we went via Bugman’s at Warhammer World and drank copious amounts of coffee (WAS DRIVING, ‘K?) with some very pleasant company indeed, before battling our way through Derby to Alton Towers ‘Splash Landings’ hotel.
Now THERE was some fun to be had! Lots of water, lots of idly floating along the Lazy River on a rubber ring, lots of water in my inner ear making me temporarily deaf… I ALWAYS know it’s going to happen, but still do it anyway. Lots of reading W40K stuff: I finished Mr. Kyme’s delicious ‘Salamander’ and read through a couple of others as well over the course of the weekend. Am contemplating which one to read next. Will probably give in to pressure and read ‘Gaunt’s Ghosts’ now. Although I WANT to read either ‘Cadian Blood’ or ‘Iron Company’.
So that was last weekend. I came back to work on Monday feeling very chilled out.
Didn’t last long.
They’ve been replacing the windows in our block at the hospital and this has created seven shades of uproar. No desk, no electric, nowhere to go… I was a homeless little soul wandering the corridors of the University Hospital of North Tees like a shade, taking refuge in any empty desk spaces I could find.
Have office (and electric) back now. New windows are very nice… but they’re still letting all the cold in, through vents which are apparently ‘closed’. Freezing, it is.
Also been very busy engaged in a writing project that’s seen me strip back one of my stories and jiggle it around to (hopefully) make it better. That’s been fun.
And before you know it, weeks have gone past and you’ve still got a billion things to do.
The Christmas scene is upon us once again. Nothing planned: Small Son is at his dad’s place this year (only fair: he HAS been with me for the last four years – largely due to ex’s incompetence rather than planning).
(Aside: a friend just sent me this link. Some people are strange. Plus, the co-presenter on the local radio breakfast show has changed her name by deed poll to ‘Vote Joe’ for the local chap who’s in that X-Factor rubbish).
Where was I? Oh, yes. Christmas.
My birthday 17th, Dearly Beloved’s on the 20th… so many things to celebrate, but there’s something far more important that needs to be handled before any of that can start.
On the 10th December, it will be 9 years since my mother died. The pain of that has lessened as the years have drifted past, but there are still moments when the sting of her loss gets too much to bear. Now, though – now, I cry about it. Which whilst it doesn’t sound good, actually is. I made myself a bit loopy for a while in the first couple of years after she died by ‘coping admirably’.
I miss my mum. Every day for the past nine years I have thought that at least once a day. When I want to talk to her, I can’t (not without attracting the odd funny look from people – and I DO talk to her in the car). What I find hardest to deal with is the fact she never got to see Small Son grow into the awesome little soul that he is today. She never got to hear him say crazy things like ‘in the old days, it was sunny’, or be delighted to hear that he got 36/40 on his mental maths test today.
Would she be proud of him? Hell, yes.
Would she be proud of me? I really, really hope so. It’s memories of her and her non-physical presence gently encouraging me to push further than I ever have in some aspects of my life. It’s memories of her and how well-loved she was by everyone who knew her that drive me to emulate her.
I always believed, after she died, that what made my mum my mum lives on. It’s in my head, in my heart, in my soul. Physical mum may be nine years gone, but the mum I knew and loved is still there. It’s just harder to hug her.
Ah, this is coming out all maudlin and it’s not meant that way. I’ll forever be grateful that I got to spend as many years of my life with her as I did. She was a good old stick.
So… onwards to December and whatever it may bring.