First Day of Term

I went back to work yesterday. Got up and was out power walking my way around the Rec (recreation ground) at seven. I got back, did my stretching and toning, had breakfast and a puddle (that's what I call a shallow bath). I was über-organised. The big kids all got out into school on time. Small Son was fed and dressed and ready for school - with packed lunch and PE kit - ten minutes ahead of schedule (I'm normally leaving 10 minutes after the school bell's rung). We remembered to bring the cardboard Go-Kart he'd made with us and off we trotted. I think his teacher was amazed at my all-round togetherness and efficiency.

I was ready - no psyching up necessary - I was in the zone. Bring it on! Hyperactive children here I come!

I arrived at work only to find that we were having a staff training day. No kids.


So … not exactly as on-the-ball as I thought.

Regime Change.

Two weeks of Easter vacation all but over and not a single extra word written in my novel. I have bought about ten books to read during this time and so far I have read 5 chapters … yesterday.

What the bloody heck have I been doing?

Week 1:

It finished a week ago. I've forgotten.

Week 2:

I have embraced a new exercise regime.

WHAT??

IS SHE SERIOUS???

ENERGY EFFICIENT, SPENDS ALL DAY IN HER JAMMIES JANEY - EXERCISING???

HELL YEAH!

It turns out that there actually is a limit to my slothfulness and I apparently reached it in my first week off, which was so exciting (read, dull) that I can't remember any of it. So I did something unprecedented … I bought myself some running shoes, trackie pants and tee shirts and I devised a new regime.

It turns out that doing nothing not only means that you get nothing achieved, it also makes your brain very dull indeed. I haven't written anything because I have nothing to write. I used to think wonderful, cookie and (sometimes even) scary things in those gloriously slothful times but somewhere along the way I noticed that I started resting my brain too.

Turns out body and brain are all part of the same system.

Who knew?

Thing is, I used to be (a very long time ago now) quite an active kinda a girl. Then I moved to London and I stopped cycling (it's the scariest place n Earth - bar landmined areas - to take your bike out), walking (why walk and get totally lost when you can take the tube everywhere which has maps on every conceivable surface?), swimming (unlike the beautiful part of Ireland I grew up in, London's lakes, canals and rivers aren't really for swimming in - if you value your flesh - and I loathe swimming in chlorinated water), gym/stretching (if I'm honest I stopped trying to bend myself into strange shapes in college but I lost the ability to do it about a year into living in London) and as for running - actually I buggered my knees and ankles up by running in crappy shoes on concrete in my mid teens - so running just isn't an option and hasn't been for 25 years.

So my knees are banjaxed. This isn't just an excuse it's medically verified. They creak and grind when I walk up the stairs. This means that I can't run or do anything high impact eg stuff that involves jumping up and down or turning quickly (so trampolining, most aerobics and racket games) are out of the question. Swimming would be the obvious choice but it too has posed conundrums.

Conundrum 1: head in the water vs head out of the water

Those of you who know me well also know that I am quite the most pigment-impaired woman in the world (who isn't actually albino). Seriously, I have none in my skin and the stuff in my hair started to run out in my teens. Now, in my early 40s my hair is pretty white. It makes me look really old. So I colour it. This makes me feel better. I don't look so old with browny/red hair. However the thing about hair-dye is that it is really susceptible to bleaching out. So exposure to bleaching agents like the sun and bleach is very very bad. Swimming pools are full of bleach. That's what chlorine is - bleach. Nasty stuff. I hate it. When I do the front crawl I have to swim with my head in the water - just turning it to the side every now and then, to breathe. Doing this regularly turns my hair green. Doing the breast stroke properly also means submerging your head under the water with each stroke but it can be done using the old-lady technique which involves holding your entire head proud if the water so as not to muss up yer hair-do. I use this technique.

Conundrum 2: Froggy vs scissors kicks.

I never had swimming lessons. I am self taught. Over the years my inefficient strokes have been further compromised by getting a lot fatter. That whole "fat floats" myth is busted. Heavier me sinks like a stone. I have found that the over-arm crawl/scissors kick option requires a level of fitness I now don't possess. Twenty strokes in my power depletes so that my actual buoyancy becomes negative and I start to drown.

The alternative is breast stroke. This is my stroke of choice because I can do it without drowning. The only problem is that the knee doctor told me that froggy kicks are very bad for my dodgy knees. The lateral movements wear away my cartilage which will eventually necessitate in having to have my joints replaced. I don't fancy that at all.


So to sum up
- scissors kicks good for knees and fitness but negative side effects include loss of life and awful hair.
- froggy legs good for fitness and hair but negative side effects include terrible pain and possible knee-replacement surgery.

So swimming is out too.

How does a fat bird like me actually take aerobic exercise?

I walk.

Fast.

Swinging my arms.

I look re-bloody-diculous. But I can do it. And it's not too painful.

I warm up and stretch out then I walk at a consistently blistering pace for about 23-25 minutes, after which I do a raft of toning exercises before doing my warm down. It takes about 40- 45 minutes in all. So far it's going well.

Unlike all other attempts I have made at increasing fitness, I don't feel like I am going to die during or after any session. The toning exercises are designed to get increasingly difficult over a month so that I am gradually loosening out my taut muscles while also strengthening them. For once I think I may actually keep it up.

A really positive side effect is that once I've done my exercises I don't feel like being quite so energy-efficient. I have actually started to get bored again when I do nothing. Hence yesterday I started reading again and I vacuumed, laundered and generally did stuff. I'm hoping that as I continue this amazing journey my Muse return so I can finish my book.

Something must be working.

I'm blogging again.

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.