A New Season

(peeks out)

(sniffs air)

Is it Spring yet? Let's see … daffs are about to open, crocuses and snowdrops are in bloom, snow's gone - all good signs.

What's that thing in the sky? The giant yellow thing? It's awfully bright even as I type I am wearing my shades to protect my poor eyes from the relentless glare. And I'm not sure if it's coincidence or not but since it's started showing up - a week or so ago - I've suddenly felt quite perky. It seems to be having a similar effect on the birds who are making a right royal racket. If I tune my ears into birdspeak it sounds like a thousand chirrups looking for sex.

It's definitely Spring!

Hi there again. I didn't mean to fall off the radar for so long but as I am a slave to the seasons I have found that I am simply less expressive and almost exclusively introspective in the darker months. I have found that it's a time to gather in, reflect and even make plans. What it's not is terribly sociable.

But Spring knocks and so have my friends and as I peer out into the joyful light of the sun I suddenly feel the urge to come out and play again.

Do forgive me if it takes a while for me to find my stride - I've been hibernating for months - my blogging legs are still a bit wobbly.

43

Well I'm 43 now.

It's an odd number, 43 - not only because of it's lack of evenness, but also because of it's all round weirdness. For a start it's a prime number. Nothing goes into it but itself and one. It's like the Billy-No-Mates of numbers. There are no stories that go with being 43. When I was 42 I could console myself that at least my age was the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, The Universe and Everything. But 43? It feels like it's an in-between number. A thinking about it but not quite sure yet number. A getting there number.

It really fits me.

I love being 43. I'm over the freaking-out-because-I'm-in-my-40s now. I'm suddenly aware that all the experiences I've had up to this point, good and bad, have really taught me a lot and made me a pretty nice person. I'm so glad to be past the wanting-babies age. Of course I am a mother and I love being one but I can see that as my children grow ever more independent I have to relinquish that role. I get to be Jane again. And actually that feels pretty darn good.

What I've discovered in the last wee while is that the best thing about 43 is that it is in no rush. 42 wanted all the answers because it was freaked out by how large a number it was. 42 had me convinced that I was slacking off, letting precious time slip away. 42 thought I was feckless. It was constantly looking ahead making old before my time. Not 43. 43 is calm. It knows that I'll get there. 43 wants me to enjoy where I am right now. It's not odd or lacking purpose. It's just totally chilled out with being 43.

The first day I was 43 I was woken up to the smell of pain-au-chocolat and tea. My wonderful husband and giggling children brought me gifts and cards. Texts came through from loved ones far away. I got messages all day from friends near and far. Later work colleagues showered me with flowers, wine and chocolate and thirty two gorgeous children sang Happy Birthday to me. My eldest child who has been very poorly for the last 3 weeks began to recover. I shared a wonderful meal with Hubby and my children. Then Hubby and I had a bottle of wine and watched When Harry Met Sally. We laughed big fat belly laughs at one of the best written (IMO) scripts ever. It was a really lovely birthday. I think it was the best one ever. Thank you all for that. It's a lovely thing to be wrapped in good wishes.

Today is my third day being 43 and I'm just as happy. You see 43 has given me a great gift - the gift of being in-between. The space to think about it because I'm not quite sure. The knowledge that I'm getting there. I love being 43.

A Modern Day Knight's Tale

So in my classroom the theme for this term is all about Knights and Castles and all things Medieval. During the morning discussion time on our first day back the teacher asked the children to come up with anything they knew about the topic. We had many and varied suggestions about weapons and armour, turrets and princesses, moats and drawbridges. Then there was a loud fanfare and a six foot tall Black Knight walked slowly and purposefully into the room. He was in full regalia - helmet, chainmail, armour, sword - the whole deal. You could've heard a penny drop (silence like this never happens in my classroom). The Knight handed a parchment to the teacher upon which was written a message from the Queen of a nearby moated castle requesting that the children train as knights and go on a quest. It was all very exciting.

After the Black Knight took his leave, the children were put into groups and asked to discuss how they could train to be a knight. I overheard a boy nearby tell his group...

"Did you know that Mr T. is a Knight?"

"Is he?"

"Yeah - coz he wears all that golden armour?"

"Isn't that just necklaces and stuff?"

"NO! It's coz he's a Knight!" The boy was very forcefully making his point and just make sure that there was no doubt about it he added, "Aaand not only that - he's ackshully the Queen's bodyguard. For real."

I don't know about you but my immediate image was of a blacked-out van screeching up to the door of Buckingham Palace. The door flies open in front of the waiting monarch. When a voice from the front yells,

"What you waitin' for? Get in the van fool!"

That had me chuckling all day.

Ahem!

Sod it. I'm choosing writing. I don't want to be a teacher.

Bad Blogger Checking In...

Hello everyone.

HELLO ... ELlo ..lo..o.

Echoy around here isn't it? Not surprising really. I mean why would anyone else bother to hang around these parts when I haven't even been here in a month myself??? Only I see I have had a few visitors and I am so mortified that I haven't been here to bid you welcome. I've had enough of these hiatuses (hiatii?) for my mates out there to realise that I've been preoccupied by the rest of life. I have a real problem balancing creativity and its pursuit and the more mundane realities of life. And of course I've just gone back to work.

It's good. Work. I fell like what I do is making a difference and I think that I've got a real leaning in that direction. For those who don't know I work in a primary school as a teaching assistant for pupils with special educational needs. And it's going well. I'm doing a few more hours this year. I do still have some time in the day for myself though which I should be using for writing but I'm getting used to the new routine and I've been kinda worn out. I've been finding this last week that things are starting to click into place so I think that I'm ready to incorporate writing back into the day.

There's a real tug of love happening with work and writing (and I include blogging in that). I feel that I'm going to have to commit to one or the other soon and if I commit to further training with education I fear that writing will fall away. So I'm going to give writing one last burst of enthusiasm. I'm going to do a little personal NaNo this year. I'm not signing up but I'm going to commit to trying to finish a first draft of one of my WIPs. So November will be the month I decide whether to carry on or change direction.

I didn't even realise I was going to say that. Yikes. But that feels right. Pick a road.

Yikes.

Anyhow sorry I haven't been visiting you lately. I'm going to try get back into it again. I just hope y'all remember me.

Wassup?

I'm struggling to find anything to post about.

School's back and in full swing again and I'm really enjoying it. In the last weeks of August I did quite a lot of writing and I haven't done much since. I've been giving myself the chance to settle back in at work but actually the truth is I'm not in the mood.

I KNOW!

Honestly one of these years I'll figure out the peaks and troughs of my writing moods and I'll work out a timetable that fits in with the peaks. I find that I'm dreaming a lot. Sometimes it's about my WIPs, sometimes it's about my future and sometimes it's just a little idea that I'm spinning around in my imagination. Did you ever 'take a line for a walk' in art class when you were a kid? Just take a black crayon on a blank sheet and twirl it around any which way to see what shows up. Then afterwards you colour in all the shapes it made to see if you can see a pattern? Well I'm doing that with little ideas, just to see what comes up. Right now it's a lot of scribbles but who knows perhaps there's a Picasso just around the corner.

I read somewhere this week that Mercury - the planet of communication - is currently retrograde. This means (I'm told) that plans get scuppered, things are a bit frustrating and anything to do with communication is fraught with frustrations. On the other hand it's a very good time (apparently) to go over things and check details so all those of you who are revising and editing have the stars on your side. There's always an upside if you look hard enough. Anyway I'm not letting my lack of output frustrate me. I'm just going to take my mind for a walk and see what shows up.

What are you guys up to?

September Starts.

Back to school tomorrow. Poo. Poo. Smelly old poo.

Today is the day for sorting it all out. There are those who have probably had their children's uniforms pressed, their spanking new shoes polished and their bookbags primed with new stationary since the second day of the holidays. But not me. I have learned that being too organised too early makes one complacent. Things get forgotten. More importantly - children grow. They shoot up during the summer holidays like little sprouting beanstalks. They may have some recessive giant genes.

So today it's shoes and bookbags.

I'm pretty sure they are OK for a day or two re uniforms. Maybe. They'll be fine.

They're not back to school tomorrow anyway. It's just me. I have to go in for a morning to go through all the stuff we're doing for the up-coming term. Also I get to meet the teacher I'll be working with next year who is new to the school. I must try to make a good impression.

Things to remember:

1. Be on time.

2. DIARY.

3. Pens.

4. His name.

5. What it is I'm employed to do.

6. Where I work.

Should be fine.

The boys go back on Thursday. Big Son goes into Key Stage 4 and is immediately plunged into all thing GCSE. Poor sod. And Small Son officially leaves the Early Years Foundation Stage and ploughs into Key Stage 1. He's officially a big boy now and even has his first wobbly tooth to prove it. Daughter goes back on Friday. She's just freaking out because she hasn't received her bus pass yet. I should probably be freaking out about that too but until I started to tell you about it I'd completely forgotten. (Must ring the transport people. Must write that in THE DIARY. Must remember to look at THE DIARY.)

Now for the first thing. Clean children who have become practically feral over the summer.

And oh yes - get out of bed.