The Most Wonderful Time of the Year...?

This Christmas is a very odd one.  It's the first one without Dad.  It has crept up on me because I only went back to work after about four months on sick leave two weeks before, so hadn't been out and about noticing all the Christmas lights, decorations and build-up begin.

On Saturday, Mum, Big Sis, Bro-in-Law and I went to a Christmas sing-a-long concert at the Royal Albert Hall.  I was feeling decidedly unfestive when we arrived.  But it ended up being good fun and made me feel a little bit more Christmassy than I had been.  Mum had a voucher for dinner at the Hilton, so we went there afterwards and had a nice dinner in the Hawaiian-themed restaurant.  The fruit cocktails were lovely, I would  love to go there another time and have some of the rum ones!  After the meal, we went home and I threw some stuff into a bag so I could go back with Mum to hers.  That's when I found out that Big Sis and Bro-in-Law weren't going to Mum's for Christmas.

My family has never made a huge fuss over Christmas, but we've always at least had a gathering and lunch or dinner together.  It's become notably less and less important in recent years, which I think is a shame.  I really dislike how commercial Christmas has become and how irrelevant half of the things people worry about are.  But I like the fact that we have one day where everything stops, shops are closed and people are encouraged to get together, spend time in each other's company, watch old films and fun TV, have a nice meal as a family/group and buy each other gifts if they so wish to.  This year, Mum said that Big Sis and Bro-in-Law weren't obliged to come, partly because Big Sis has been spending time with Mum and they also went away to Lanzarote for a week a couple of weeks ago, and she thought she needed to spend some time with her husband!  That's the benefit of being legally bound to another.  Us singletons don't get a free pass to spend time alone, or with friends.

Basically, today has been a non-day, highlighted by the fact that everyone else is talking about their gatherings and Christmas dinners and presents and so on.  Today I have sat on the sofa since 11am, watching TV.  Mum has been sat in the armchair next to me doing the same.  I've intermittently been on my laptop, her on her iPad.  We haven't spoken all that much.  We don't often want to watch the same things, although I don't mind some of the things she puts on.  I felt like going upstairs to read or watch things online, but it felt a bit rude.  There were no presents, no special meal.  There are no Christmas decorations up.  Everything just feels empty and dead.  Now and then either or both of us would be crying, but not really acknowledging it in the other person.

I have retreated into my shell again, not talking to people because it's easier to hold things in and deal with them on my own than open up and not be understood.  Mum frequently makes comments about losing a spouse being much worse and more intense than losing a parent.  While I agree that is true to a degree, it feels like she has a monopoly on grief.  Every now and then she says the same things about how she feels, her own guilt, her own 'if onlys', etc.  I want to listen and reassure her, but it feels like a broken record.  I don't have enough emotional energy of my own to tell her it's OK.  Going over what we could have done differently doesn't help me in my own grieving process.  It's personal to her, as a wife, as a nurse, as my Dad's full-time carer for 18 months.  I want to remember the positive things about my Dad, the good memories I have.  Mum says she keeps having to remember how he was at the end, almost to reassure her that it was the right time for him to die, that he was unwell, weak and uncomfortable.  I had already accepted that my Dad was going to die.  His existence as a fraction of the human being he was made me feel uncomfortable and upset.  It still hurt so much when he died, but I can't deny the part of me that was relieved that his suffering and also my Mum's non-stop effort with caring had come to an end.  Part of my Mum's grief is occasionally going over what more she could have done, which is very specific to her.  I can't imagine dealing with the loss of someone who was your companion for 31 years.  But I know what it's like to lose my father of 30 years and it's painful.  Hypothetically, my Mum could find another companion.  But I can't find a new father.  I may find a new father figure, I may have a father-in-law some day, but the father who raised me, whose DNA makes up my own, whose character and influence moulded me into who I am today, that can't be replaced.

I feel like now my Dad has gone, I've lost an ally.  The family dynamic has changed.  My Mum and Big Sis have got more and more alike in recent years.  It's only now that Dad has passed away that I feel like a third wheel at times.  I liked similar things to my Dad.  I think I'm probably a bit more cynical, more realistic/negative, less religious, less strong in faith - all things my Dad was in some ways.  I frequently feel like I'm the odd one out in my family now.  It's something I never expected, probably because I never noticed it before, because Dad was always there to balance things out.

Today, I've felt more and more sad as the day has gone on.  It's the first time since immediately after my Dad died that I've really felt like crying and have done so.  I've felt pangs of jealousy at people who are having traditional Christmas family get-togethers.  I've felt resentful of people who are moaning about things they could probably be a little more grateful for.  I've felt isolated, lonely and misunderstood.  I've felt loss twice over - the loss of my Dad, and the loss of Samson, who I could always go to when I felt sad, even if I didn't know the reason.  I've felt lost and even more sad because finding that kind of understanding in a person is relatively uncommon.  Building up that sort of trust, where I'd feel comfortable enough to talk to someone when I feel low, takes time.  I fear I won't find it again.  Or more likely, that I won't trust enough again to open up sufficiently to develop that kind of relationship.  It just feels like no-one understands.  I have hardly any appetite at the moment.  I'm having one meal and a snack a day.  I have no money again and only got paid five days ago.  There just never seems to be an end to this perpetual cycle of sadness at the moment.

It feels like as I get older, birthdays and Christmas just highlight all my sadness even more.  I think this is part of why I want to settle down, find someone who is my partner for life, who is with me against the world, and start my own family.  So I can start my own traditions, have my own celebrations, do things in a way that will make me happy.  I'm fed up of being the reliable, go-to person for my family to rely on to go along with what they want, because I'm too emotionally retarded to be able to say no.  I'm fed up of being someone who people come to for advice, when they are feeling down or in need of reassurance, when they need someone to be there, but not being able to support me in my own times of sadness.  This is what happens when you get used to holding your own feelings back and putting on your 'strong' face for the world.  Even those closest to you can't tell the difference between the mask and your real face anymore.  You can't let the barriers down even when you want to.

In Loving Memory

                      Derek Reeves

         10.11.1925 - 05.11.2012

Birthday Breakdown (in more ways than one)

9.30am – wake up, slightly groggy after going to bed a little late (my two-hour nap on Saturday afternoon seemed to mess up my pattern).  Open the cards that had come in the post, etc. and the present I got from Badges – a coaster that says ‘Just because I work here doesn’t mean I actually “work” here.’  :o)  Arrange the cards on the end table at the foot of my bed.  Put on the TV, catch the end of a Sunday politics show and then the start of a discussion show asking young people ‘Is religion on its way out?’

10.15am – Big Sis comes to say hello and greets me a Happy Birthday.  We chat for a bit and then go to get breakfast.  She gives me a card from her and Bro-in-Law.  Has lovely messages that leave me a bit teary.  Methinks Big Sis is feeling rather emotional at the moment herself.  Make toast and marmalade and some tea, then go to the living room.  Thank Bro-in-Law for the card.  Chat over breakfast, lots of giggles.  I only manage half of my toast, then go upstairs to do a bit of tidying in my room (not so much a birthday activity, but a much needed one).

11.00am – start sorting out some of the paperwork on my desk, turn my laptop on, do a few bloggy things while sorting out any paper that can go in the recycling.  Am interrupted now and then with Facebook birthday messages from friends on my phone.  I fill a recycling sack with paper, envelopes, old newspapers and magazines.  Am surprised by how much space that alone frees up. 

11.30am – have a missed call from Dad, wishing me Happy Birthday and saying that they will be stopping by a bit later to drop off some stuff.  Mum says it will be about 1.00pm by the time they arrive.  I expect it will be slightly later, knowing them.  I tell Big Sis and Bro-in-Law they are coming round.  They are about to head out for a walk.  They will be back by about 1pm anyway, as Bro-in-Law wants to watch the Grand Prix.

11.45am - I sort out some of my clothes into piles for washing.  Am reminded just how much I need to have a wardrobe purge.  I vacuum the parts of the floor I can get to, as well as under my bed, where dust creatures have been forming for some time.  My door keeps slamming shut as the window is open and there is quite a strong breeze.  I wedge the door open to get the breeze flowing through to air my room.  The plan is thwarted somewhat by the window now slamming shut instead.  I play some music to keep me motivated and sing along loudly, giving my voice probably the most exercise it has had so far this year.

12.45pm – Big Sis and Bro-in-Law arrive back.  No sign of the ‘rents.  They have picked up some shopping on the way back.  Samson is going to come over, so I text him and ask him to let me know when he is leaving.  We talk and he says he will probably be here by about 2.30pm or so.

1.30pm – Big Sis comes in and gives me a lovely bunch of yellow tulips with a £20 note in the wrapping, from her and Bro-in-Law.  I give her a hug.  I do like tulips.  I get a call from Mum.  She apologises that they are running late.  She got a call from a family friend and got delayed.  She suggests that we could go out to lunch, as she hasn’t eaten and I say I haven’t had lunch yet either.  She hasn’t mentioned it to Dad yet, but tells me to ask Big Sis to book a table at the Thai place that we like nearby.  She asks what time Samson will be arriving and I tell her.  In any case, I estimate they won’t be arriving till 2.00pm at the very earliest, so he shouldn’t be too much later than them.

1.45pm – I tell Big Sis and Bro-in-Law about the lunch plans so they can get ready.  I ask Big Sis if she is going to have a bath because I will need to have one before going out.  She says she will too.  I go back to doing some bits in my room.

2.15pm – Big Sis is cleaning the bathroom, I am a little surprised since Mum and Dad are on their way and we are both going to have a wash before going out. 

2.30pm – The ‘rents arrive.  Big Sis has only just got in the bath.  Mum comes to my room and says “Oh, you’re not ready.”  I explain that Big Sis has just got in the bath so I am waiting to get washed.  She shows me a bag of old photos she has brought with her, as I am planning to scan some at work.  They don’t give me a birthday card.  I am already feeling a little bit grumpy and not in the mood for celebrating.  I get the feeling Mum was expecting us to be ready to leave straight away and feel annoyed that I can’t do anything while waiting, as I look a state and really want to have a quick bath.  Mum says she is starving as she hasn’t eaten anything.  I offer her the toast and marmalade that I could finish at breakfast.

3.00pm – I ask Big Sis if she is nearly finished.  Bro-in-Law is going to get in there after her (to save water, they usually do this).  They seem to be taking ages.

3.15pm – Dad shouts up to ask what’s going on.  I haven’t been downstairs as I can feel the atmosphere getting tense.  I go down to speak to him and he gives me a hug.  It becomes clear that Mum hasn’t mentioned to him her plan to go out for ‘lunch’.  He says he has made me a cake and hands over a chocolate cream-filled sponge.  Mum is sat on an armchair looking a little pissed off.  She says something about the fact that she is really hungry and is going to get a migraine and that maybe they should just go.  I ask what she is going to do, as Bro-in-Law is now in the bathroom and I can’t get ready until he is finished.  I say that if she doesn’t want to wait then they should go, as she needs to eat.  She replies that we were meant to be going out to eat, but ‘no-one seems that interested.’

3.30pm – Big Sis finally appears, dressed and ready.  Dad is confused about what is going on and I explain that Mum had wanted to go out to lunch.  Mum is doing her usual thing of not saying much but giving off rays of negativity when she is annoyed. I go to the kitchen to check the cake and see if it will fit in the fridge.  I come back out and Mum has just gone out of the front door.  Dad tells me they are leaving.  I give him a hug and then go to the door to say goodbye to Mum, but she is already in the car.  I can’t be bothered to try and stop them.  I’m upset that I just wanted a quiet day without drama and didn’t mind not celebrating, but everything seems to have still gone wrong.  I feel a bit hurt that I always seem to be the one who ends up feeling bad and responsible.  I wonder who the lunch was really for, since no-one has asked me how I feel or what I want to do, but allegedly I am the one at the centre of it.  I speak to Samson and tell him we aren’t going out to lunch anymore.  He is still a little way away, there have been no trains to my house and he left his house at 2.00pm.

3.45pm – I finally get to go in the bathroom and lie in the bath feeling generally pretty rubbish.  Samson arrives while I am in the bath after an almost 2-hour long journey.  I have pretty much lost the will to do anything.

4.00pm – I get out of the bath and find Samson in my room, greeting me enthusiastically and giving me a card and present.  He gives me a big hug and I start to cry.  I just want to get back in bed.  The intermittent messages I have been receiving from various people saying “I hope you are having a fabulous day!” and so on are making me feel worse.  I get ready really slowly, not really knowing quite what I am doing and feeling tired as I haven’t eaten since about 10.30am.  There isn’t much food in the house and I don’t feel like cooking.  We decide to go back to Samson’s later.  I don’t have the heart to make him get back on public transport so soon after such a long journey. 

5.00pm – Big Sis and Bro-in-Law decide to go out to eat, seeing as they had both got ready to go out and haven’t had lunch either.  I tell them we will be leaving so might not be home when they get home.

6.30pm – I am finally ready after taking my time pottering around and watching the last results of the football season for the Premier League.  It is a close-run battle to avoid relegation between about 4 teams.  Samson asks if I want to go out to eat.  I am not in the mood to care much,  I am so hungry by now that I just want some food in my belly.  I get my stuff together and we go downstairs, then I remember I need to refrigerate the cake.  I cut and wrap a quarter of it to take with us, then try to rearrange things to make space for the plate on one of the shelves. 

7.00pm – we are finally leaving.  As we open the front door, Big Sis and Bro-in-Law are just arriving.  They had a nice Sunday roast at a local restaurant.  Samson and I go to the station and there are no trains whatsoever.  We walk down the road to get the bus, planning to get off halfway and get the tube.  I suggest we eat at Wagamama in Victoria, as the food is quick but healthy.

7.40pm – we arrive at Wagamama and discover it closes at 8.00pm.  There is no point, I am not in the mood for rushing my meal in 20 minutes.  We decide to get the tube back to Samson’s, although because of engineering works, it will stop a station short and we will have to walk/get a bus from there.  Samson is adamant that I shouldn’t have fast food on my birthday, but I am too hungry by now and don’t care.  I suggest we just go out for a meal on another evening.  I just need to eat and I want to be home at 9pm to watch Orphan.

8.40pm – after a long tube journey, then a longer than necessary bus journey, we arrive at Samson’s, KFC in hand (he still feels bad that we are having KFC for my birthday dinner, but it’s fast and is 2 minutes from his place).  The food tastes good after 10 hours of no eating.  We settle down to watch the film and things feel better again.  “I’m sorry we didn’t do anything special for your birthday,” he says later.  “This is all I wanted to do for my birthday,” I reply, “Just chill with you.”  I had forgotten how relaxed I always feel around him.  He is the only person all day who has asked me what I want to do.

11.00pm – the film is over.  I really enjoyed it, it was just the right amount of scary for me.  We watch some of the football highlights and then go to bed.  I start feeling low again and upset about how rubbish this birthday has been.  I feel a little resentful about being there for people and trying to be a good friend, but feeling like no-one returns the favour to make an effort for me.  Samson tries to comfort me as I cry, but I just want to forget the day even happened.  He suggests we could go away for my birthday next year.  We talk and I feel better and we finally get to sleep a while later.

I am writing this birthday off.  This has been the worst in a while, the worst I can remember before this was when the boyfriend who had broken up with me less than a month before insisted he be invited to my birthday celebration, confused me by kissing me while we were out, and then ruined my evening when I found him talking in a cosy corner to another girl.  Things are definitely better now, but I am still writing this one off.  I think I will go into self-imposed hiding next year.

In The Middle

I hate being in the middle. I don't much like conflict. I am also fed up of trying to be a pacifier. In the US, they use the term 'pacifier' for the things they give to babies to suck on to keep them quiet. Know what they call those here? Dummies. Interesting.

Yesterday, we went to church earlier than usual. Mum had been asked to lead out in one of the Bible study classes and then the three of us were leading the praise and worship singing in the main service. I had gone to sleep at 8.00pm on Friday night and woken up after eleven hours' sleep at 7.00am the next morning, still feeling quite rough and with a sore throat. Mum was still not feeling 100% after having colds and flu all week and Dad stayed at home because he had got sick after looking after Mum. Luckily, my throat held out and we managed to sing everything OK. When we got home, we ate the leftover toast from breakfast because we were all feeling famished. Big Sis went on Mum's laptop, which isn't unusual. She was watching a sermon online while Mum cooked a hot lunch. I helped Mum for a little bit, then told her about the graduation that was taking place on Sunday for the lay-preaching course we had been attending. I had already decided that I didn't want to go, for various reasons, but now I wasn't feeling well, I knew it was the best idea. Mum mentioned that she might go so that she could take photos of Big Sis, but then when she heard Bro-in-Law was going, she said, "Oh, well that's good, he can take some photos then."

We all talked over lunch, but Big Sis continued to watch the program. We were half-watching, but were talking as well, while we ate our food. After the sermon, there was a musical presentation, but I wasn't really feeling it. I made that clear, being slightly obnoxious on purpose because Big Sis sometimes does the same when I am watching things she doesn't like. The difference is that I watch such things in my own room, on my own television or laptop, not in a shared space that means she is forced to watch it. Mum wasn't feeling the music either and asked Big Sis to turn it off, but she didn't. Dad had just gone upstairs, probably for a rest, so Mum followed not long after. I needed the bathroom, so went to the one upstairs. I didn't particularly want to sit there listening to music I wasn't enjoying.

When I went upstairs, Mum and Dad were resting and so I decided to do the same and had a nap in their room. I had a feeling in the back of my mind that Big Sis would take this personally, seeing as we all left the room within about five minutes of each other. But she knew we didn't want to watch what she was watching and since she insisted on continuing to do so, even after Mum asked her to switch it off, you would have thought she would have been pleased to be left alone to watch what she wanted in peace.

Fast forward to two hours later and Mum and I woke up, feeling hot and dehydrated. Dad had already gone downstairs. We weren't even intending to have a long nap, but obviously both needed it because we were both feeling under the weather. I got dressed and got my stuff ready, then went downstairs. Big Sis was still watching stuff on the laptop. We had a hot drink and then Mum went to the hall over the road to say a quick hello to some old church friends who had hired it that evening for a party for our friend's 50th birthday. When she came back, we watched Harry Hill's TV Burp, which Big Sis watched with us. The X-Factor was on afterwards. Sometime during the program, I could feel something change. I could feel a slight bad vibe coming from Big Sis since I had expressed my dislike of the music program she had been watching earlier, but it suddenly got worse. I was sitting on her right and got the feeling out of the corner of my eye that she might be crying.

After a while, Mum was going to give us a lift home, so we got up to leave. Big Sis mentioned something to Dad about having a family meeting about some shared bills we have to sort out. "Not now," said Dad, as we were obviously about to leave. "I know not now," said Big Sis, visibly irritated, "but if we don't set a time then nothing gets sorted out, does it?" Her tone was disapproving and I knew that my instinct had been right. We prayed before we left and said our goodbyes to Dad, then got in the car.

Not long after we had driven off, Big Sis said to Mum, in an upset tone, "Mum, are you coming to my graduation tomorrow?"

Sensing the tone and what was about to happen, Mum was silent for a moment and then said, "No, I wasn't going to especially."

"But if Em was going, then you would," Big Sis replied, unable to hide the anger in her voice.

"No, not necessarily," Mum replied calmly.

"Yeah, you would," said Big Sis. I waited for it to begin.

That's when she kicked off, saying in tears that she was fed up of being ignored in this family and that it was like she had to compete to be heard and that no-one was interested in her or her life or anything she wanted to say. I asked how she had been ignored and what she wanted to talk about. "Anything," she replied, "anything that I want to talk about." I didn't really have anything to say, not really knowing what the point of arguing with her was, and knowing that most of this was probably directed at Mum. "What's the point of me coming here at the weekend?" she said, "I might as well stay at home with my husband." She made several more outbursts on the way home, and I was willing Mum to say something back to her, but Mum kept silent. We stopped on the way to pick up a newspaper for Dad, which I got out to buy as usual. I wondered if Mum might talk to her while I was in the shop. I stopped to get out cash to buy me a bit more time. As I went to pay, the guy at the till was talking to his female colleague. I see both of them virtually every week, as we usually stop at the same place to get the paper. I handed him my cash and my points card. He looked at me in a way I couldn't quite work out and I was conscious that I wasn't as friendly as I might usually be because of what had been happening in the car.

"Don't you think they should put the full name on these cards?" he said to his colleague, holding up my points card, which had my initial and surname on it. "Then you wouldn't need to say to someone, 'I like your smile miss, what is your name?', and give them a cheesy line, you could just see it on their card."

His female colleague gave him an unimpressed look and looked at me, shaking her head.

"I like your smile, miss," he said to me while handing me my change, "Can I ask you your name?"

"No," I said, sort of laughing and looking at his colleague, who I usually have a chat to when I see, and who was still giving me a sympathetic look.

"See," he said to her as I started to turn to walk away, "it's not a good line!"

I was laughing a little, but dreading getting back into the car. Once I did, things were still silent. They pretty much remained so until we got to the petrol station opposite our road and Mum asked me to put some petrol in the car. I was happy to get out of the atmosphere again and put £20 in, laughing when I over-filled by 1p. We got home and I expected Big Sis to get out of the car as soon as she could, in which case I was going to stay behind and talk to Mum. But she didn't. I wondered if they might want to talk, so I started to get my stuff and thanked Mum for the lift and then got out of the car, but Big Sis started to get out too. I waved goodbye to Mum and we went indoors. Bro-in-Law wasn't home and Big Sis asked me about the shared bills we were sorting out and why I hadn't paid what I had said I was going to. I explained that I had tried on more than one occasion this week to do so online like I usually do, but it wasn't letting the payment go through.

"Have you still got enough?" she asked, still with the accusatory tone that she had kept with all evening. I explained that I might not be able to pay quite as much as I had hoped, but definitely most of it. "Have you been helping Mum out with something I don't know about, or something?" she quizzed, "Because I know how I always get left out."

I was stuck between just wanting to either laugh in her face, shout at her in frustration, or tell her to grow up. "No," I answered, "I don't know what you're trying to say, but I don't know anything more than you do." I could hear her starting to say something back, but I dropped the things I had bought in the kitchen and then took my things upstairs.

I am so fed up of these random outbursts she has once a year or every two years, suggesting that everyone is against her or that our parents favouritise me over her. I was especially irritated by the fact that she was suggesting we don't want to talk to her or that we ignore her, when the fact of the matter is, she made no effort to start conversation with any of us, or even join in the existing conversation because she was so determined to watch whatever she wanted to watch on the laptop. Our parents don't take an extra interest in what I do, any more than they do in what she does. The difference is that I go to see them every week and when I do, I talk to them and offer up information about what is going on with me. They don't always ask me about my life. But that's how they are. I don't take that to mean that they don't want to know or don't care. But Big Sis seems to want everyone to chase after her and tease any information out of her, despite the fact that she seems more interested in checking what people are doing on Facebook than talking to the parents whose house she is visiting.

The fact is, I have gone to their house to stay on Friday evening every week for the past three years. Big Sis came some of the time, but obviously leading up to her getting married and after she got married, she didn't bother as much. Sometimes, I didn't always feel like it. But I knew that they liked having us round to visit or to stay. That was my choice. When Big Sis didn't go to see them, that was her choice. Why is it my fault that they know more about what I am up to because I choose to spend more time with them, or make the effort to keep them informed when I do spend time with them? I am really bored of being made to feel bad, just because I act a certain way and Big Sis chooses to act a different way. I can't count the number of times I have tried to act as a go-between in my family, trying to smooth things out between my Mum and my sister.

I was feeling really uncomfortable, knowing that I would now have to live with this horrible atmosphere while Mum returned home and wondering what other things Big Sis would find to have a go at me about. I texted The Mrs and asked if she had time for a chat. She isn't feeling too well either, so we were talking about that and then I told her about my situation. She felt bad that she couldn't offer more advice or say much in return, as she wasn't feeling well, but I think I just needed to get it off my chest. We spoke for quite a while and I was grateful that she just listened and allowed me to let off steam. After we spoke I called my Mum. I asked if she was going to the graduation and suggested that maybe she should, because it would probably help things. She said that Big Sis hadn't even talked to her about it or even asked her to go and she didn't think that her outburst in the car really counted as an invitation. As it was, she still wasn't feeling well. She said that if Big Sis had asked her to go properly, then by all means she would have gone without a second thought. But as it was, she hadn't even been told that guests could come. I hadn't mentioned it to her myself because I had decided not to go and to be honest I wasn't that bothered about it. I wouldn't have bothered asking her even if I was going. I asked if she had said anything to Big Sis in the car, but she said that she had just stayed quiet, not wanting to get into the argument and feeling stressed enough with other things going on as it is. She said that since Friday evening, Big Sis had just been on the laptop the whole time and not bothered to make any conversation with her or Dad, so how on earth could she then accuse them of not wanting to talk to her, when she wasn't being sociable in the first place? I could see Mum's point of view and I didn't want to persuade her to go to the graduation if she wasn't feeling well. She said that she was pleased when she heard Bro-in-Law was going and thought maybe she should leave them to it, as Big Sis is married now and maybe Mum should let her husband support her and shouldn't get involved. "But I think she wants you to be involved, Mum," I suggested, "but she just didn't ask you." "Well exactly," Mum replied, "she didn't ask." She said that she might go but she was still feeling unwell and would have to see how she felt in the morning. She told me to just be patient with my sister. Hmm. I'm trying.

I eventually went to sleep after about 1.30am, probably because of my almost 3-hour nap that afternoon. I woke up a few times and found it hard to get back to sleep properly, but drifted in and out of sleep until my alarm when off at about 9.30. Suddenly I heard a car outside and I sneaked a peak out of the window to see that Mum had arrived. I was really pleased. I was hoping she wasn't feeling too unwell, but I think it was a good thing to do. I stayed in bed till I heard them all leave, then got up, feeling excited to have an empty house as a rare treat. I hope that Big Sis might appreciate Mum's gesture, but I worry that she will see it as vindication of sorts, or proof that the accusations she made are true. I am enjoying the peace and quiet of having the house to myself while I can. I'm not really looking forward to them returning home. No matter what I do, there will be something that I've done that is not right.

Dad's Dinner

The morning of Dad’s birthday, Tuesday 10th, Mum sent and email to me, Big Sis and Bigger Sis. Mum had previously said that they had nothing planned and weren’t going to do anything special, so Big Sis and I said we would just come along to their house after work, to spend the evening with Dad. But instead, she suggested that we surprise Dad by going out for a meal near our place and that Bigger Sis come too. We agreed that it would be a nice idea and easier for us all travel-wise than getting to theirs, so Big Sis booked us a table at a local Thai restaurant. Unfortunately, Bro-in-Law has uni that night and so can’t come with us.

I arrived home that evening a bit later than intended, after stopping in HMV to buy Dad a present. Bigger Sis was already there, chatting with Big Sis. I laughed at the fact that I knew this as soon as I entered the front door, due to the two large bags on the hallway floor. Bigger Sis is prepared for any occasion and a self-confessed bag lady. Must be where I get it from. :o) We had a hug and a quick chat, then realised we had to get moving since the table was booked for 6.30pm and it was already that time. We could make the ten-minute walk with relative ease, secure in the knowledge that Mum and Dad are usually notoriously late and would never get there before us. Again, must be where I get it from. :o)

As we walked, Bigger Sis informed us that she had got herself the ultimate lazy person’s exercise machine. “As you get older, even if you’re relatively fit, every just starts to get looser,” she explained, much to our amusement, “your muscles just gradually start detaching themselves from your bones.” She told us about this machine for lazy people: “It’s a vibrator,” she started. “Er…I think that’s something else…” I interrupted, laughing. “Yeah, all right,” she said, smiling, “I’ve already had my workmates saying all this. I’ve already told them it doesn’t come with attachments.” She continued to explain that it is a vibrating plate that you simply had to stand on for no more than ten minutes, three times a week. Like those muscle toning pads that tense your muscles for you without any effort on your part, the vibrations apparently tone up your muscles without you having to do anything at all. “It’s not aerobic, though,” she warned, “so it won’t make you fit, but it does help tone everything up, it’s working already!”

Big Sis and I were extremely intrigued and vowed to give this thing a go when we go to Bigger Sis’ house for lunch in a few weeks’ time. We giggled and made silly comments about it all the way to the restaurant, which we arrived at in good time. Even though it is only a ten-minute walk from my house and it has been there for fifteen-twenty years, I have never actually been to the restaurant before. It soon became clear that Big Sis had, as when we entered, the wait staff seemed to be on first-name terms with her, which we then tease her about for the rest of the evening. The interior of the restaurant was beautiful. It’s a Thai place and the ceiling was covered with opened, upturned, colourful, far-eastern style umbrellas. There was lots of gold in the décor, but tastefully so. The waitresses looked lovely in their uniforms of typical Thai dress. The waiter is called Sam and has a chat to Big Sis, who informs him that we are her sisters. I don’t think he gets what she is saying, at first. When he takes our drink orders, he asks me “Are you her sister?” “Yes,” I reply, “all of us are sisters.” He looks at me like he doesn’t understand for a second. “Honestly!” I say, “None of us look alike, do we?”

Bigger Sis had brought a cake with her, as agreed with Mum, and Big Sis brought the candles. Big Sis had asked when booking the table if it was okay for us to bring our own cake and they graciously obliged. They passed the cake on to the waitresses to keep in the back until the meal was over. “Whose birthday is it?” Sam enquired and we explained that it was Dad’s and he would be arriving with Mum quite soon. “What’s your Dad’s name?” he asked and Big Sis told him, then Bigger Sis said with suspicion, “Oh no, you probably shouldn’t sing to him, I don’t think he’d like that!”

Not long afterwards, Mum and Dad arrive. Mum had told Dad that they were driving to pick me and Big Sis up from home, to take us back to their house for food, or maybe somewhere nearby. Dad is not really expecting to go to a restaurant and certainly not expecting to see Bigger Sis with us. He looks pleasantly surprised as they turn the corner from the entrance into the restaurant and see us sitting at the table. There are big hugs all round. They order drinks and we all giggle when Mum drains her mango juice. Er…were you thirsty, Mum?!

We give Dad his birthday cards. Bigger Sis has bought Dad a Spike Milligan card which he loves, and a silly coaster which says, ‘You only get better as you get older. Unless you’re a banana.’ Bigger Sis has also bought Dad some tea. “I couldn’t think what to get you. But I know you drink tea and you can always use some more.” She has also brought some DVDs with her that she promised Dad she would lend him. Big Sis and I got Dad the latest Harry Hill’s TV Burp DVD, partly because we know he’ll like it (and secretly because I just want to watch it with him).

Sam had to come back several times to check if we are ready to order, because we are talking so much and the menu is so vast. Not good for a food lover as indecisive as me. The menu had great names, like ‘Volcano Chicken’, ‘Jungle Beef’ and ‘Drunkard’s Noodles’. I crack up when, after jokingly complaining that he “can’t find fish and chips” on the menu, Dad manages to stick to the English stereotype by finding the only thing in the Thai restaurant that has potatoes in it! “That’s why I ordered it,” he says to me matter-of-factly, smiling.

Once we had finally ordered our food, we sit talking until we hear a phone start ringing quite loudly, with the old-school Nokia ringtone. “Is that mine?” Bigger Sis asks, then answers her own question with, “It must be, no-one else has that old ringtone!” I look in her bag and confirm her suspicions as I see the green glow of an old mobile phone screen. She answers and finds it is Big Bro, calling from Cape Town. It is perfect timing – for one, because he didn’t know we were going out to eat this evening since it was a last-minute arrangement; secondly, because he wasn’t to know that Bigger Sis would be there either; thirdly, because he called in the short space of time after us ordering our food and before it actually arrived. “Do you want to speak to the birthday boy?” Bigger Sis asks. Dad has a chat to Big Bro for a while and then afterwards passes the phone to me. I speak to him and ask how the rest of the family are and tell him that Dad managed to order the only Thai dish that contained potatoes, which he finds very amusing. He asks about work and I tell him that I am starting a new job soon. “Oh that’s good,” he says, “Is it more interesting?” “Er…no, I don’t think so,” I say, laughing, “but it pays better, so I suppose that makes it more interesting!” I eventually pass the phone back to Bigger Sis, after sending all our love to his family, then they have a good old natter until the food arrives. Someone next to us has ordered the ‘Volcano Chicken’ which lives up to its name, as it is flambéed with a shot of cognac which promptly sends huge flames upwards, threatening to set the beautiful ceiling of umbrellas alight.

The table is full of food. We have ordered a main dish each, as well as two vegetable dishes (garlic spinach and mixed seasonal vegetables) on the side for us to share. Big Sis and I go halves with our egg fried rice and garlic fried rice (the garlic rice is delicious). There are three of the same dish with cashew nuts, but with different ingredients: tofu for Big Sis, chicken for Bigger Sis and Lamb for Mum. I had chicken with ginger and some other yummy stuff. The food isn’t quite as spicy as we hoped, especially since Bigger Sis asked for hers to me medium spicy, but the flavours are delicious. Dad has an impressive copper two-handled pan for his curry, which he really enjoys; the lamb is very tender and the potatoes are…well, potatoes! He finishes the whole lot, but is slightly disappointed with the salad he ordered on the side, which winds up being spicier than the curry!

Soon, we start to get full. The table is cleared and we ask them for a doggy bag for the excess. As they take away all the dishes, Big Sis subtly asks them to bring the cake. We chat for a little while, looking at the dessert menus to disguise our sneaky plan, then all of a sudden, four of the wait staff appear. They have apparently taken Bigger Sis’ suggestion that they not sing and amusingly translated it as ‘sing loudly and bring instruments.’ They carry the cake in, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ accompanied by maracas and a tambourine. I am cracking up with laughter and Dad looks suitably embarrassed/impressed/amused. They leave us the cake and don’t make much of a fuss, which is perfect. Dad eventually blows out the candles and attempts to start cutting the cake using the torture-like utensils they have left us. The cake is from Patisserie Valerie and is beautiful but very simple – a square chocolate sponge, extremely light, with a layer of whipped cream – almost like a huge tiramisu. It is topped with five strawberries, which works out perfectly for one each.

Bigger Sis apologises that it probably won’t live up to Dad’s own cakes, but he really enjoys it. It is just the right amount of sweet and not heavy at all, so doesn’t make us feel sick after our mammoth meal. There is a slice left which Dad and Bigger Sis encourage one of us to finish, even though we probably should take it home for Bro-in-Law. “He doesn’t know there was a cake,” says Big Sis jokingly, which makes Bigger Sis roar with laughter. “Yeah Dad,” I tease, “all those cakes you give us to take home, never make it to Bro-in-Law.” Mum seals the deal by cutting the slice and eventually, Big Sis and I make everyone laugh by taking it in turns to say “Oh, that side’s not even. I better even it out by eating this little bit.”

Soon, we decide it is probably time to leave. It’s not quite 10.00pm. Big Sis goes to orders take-out for Bro-in-Law. We pay the bill and leave a generous tip and then Sam helps us with our coats. They give Dad a little golden elephant key ring as a memento, which is really quite sweet. We thank them for a really lovely evening and then say our goodbyes, with Sam saying farewell and telling Big Sis to “say hello to Bro-in-Law,” which cracks me up.

We convince Mum and Dad to come back to ours for a cuppa (or a tipple, in Bigger Sis’ case). We take our time making tea, then chat and giggle over our beverages while eating the odd biscuit from the organic selection Bigger Sis has randomly given us. After a while, Dad seems ready to go home. It has been a really enjoyable evening and most importantly, it seems that Dad really enjoyed himself. We hug and kiss before they leave, then Bigger Sis gets ready and we walk her to the station for the next train. We keep her company for the few minutes until the train arrives. “Text us when you get home,” I tell her, as she gets on the train. “OK,” she answers, “but if I don’t, don’t be offended, will you?” We wave and blow kisses goodbye, then Big Sis and I crack up on the walk home about her logic. Er…okay, we won’t be offended, but how will we know you got home all right?! Lol!

Dad is doing so well for his age and we are so blessed that he has been in good health and of sound mind for yet another year. It was a perfect evening. I hope we have many more like that to come.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

It's my Pops' birthday today. He's a grand old age, but I won't reveal it here. :o) We didn't have anything planned, so I was going to go to their house after work just to spend the evening with him. But Mum emailed suggestions this morning for dinner this evening, so we are going to surprise him with a dinner at a Thai restaurant tonight - me, Big Sis, Bigger Sis and Mum. Bro-in-Law has a lecture at uni, so unfortunately can't come. Bigger Sis is bringing a cake! Dad doesn't really want for much nowadays, but I think he will be more than happy with a quiet family gathering.

Happy Birthday, Daddy Ducks!!!

Sunday: Good Friends, Good Food, Good Music

This morning, I woke and knew it was early, because my alarm hadn’t even gone off yet (it was set for 8.45am). I lay there for a while and felt wide awake. I had things on my mind, so I decided to pray about them and then remembered that I also needed to pray for the many people I know at the moment that are experiencing tough times: like my uncle who has been suffering from on-going health problems that the hospital can’t seem to get to the root of; the mother-in-law of one of our small-group friends, who has just been diagnosed with liver cancer, so our friend has flown out to Pakistan with her husband and their daughter so that they can be with her; the various people looking for permanent work or experiencing financial difficulties, and so on.

After praying, it was still only just after 7am and I felt too awake to go back to sleep. I got up and cleaned my teeth, then went to get some cereal and tea for breakfast (cereal with a cup of tea on the side, not cereal with tea), returning to bed to try and write a blog post and see if my cousin was online to have a chat to, as I had promised to do (he is 8 hours ahead). He was online but didn’t reply, so I decided to catch the infamous recent episode of Question Time on BBC iPlayer (more on that in a separate post). I probably should have had a shower and got dressed early so I didn’t have to rush later on, but I was too comfy in my pyjamas and it wasn’t even 9am yet. Feeling a little bit restless, but possessing neither the desire to go back to sleep, or the energy to any anything particularly productive (like put some laundry on, or tidy some of my room), I randomly decided to clear out my email inbox. This might sound like a minor task, but this is the email address I use for virtually everything other than my blog and I am on a vast number of mailing lists. I had been putting this very task off for months, because my latest count of unread items was approximately 1500 (disgraceful, I know), most of them being mail outs from companies I buy from, or eBay reminders, or job and holiday alerts that I signed up to when I was looking for work and looking for cheap flights to NYC respectively and haven’t yet unsubscribed from. I’ve just been particularly lazy lately with actually opening the ones I want to look at and deleting the ones I have no interest in.

Perhaps an hour later, I had downsized my inbox to 6 pages (which is a reduction by 90+%) and only had one unread item, which I actually had read, but wanted to mark out so that I remembered to reply relatively soon. Feeling rather pleased with myself, although there was nothing to show for this productivity other than the inbox that only I see, I thought I should probably have a nice soak in the bath. That is, until I heard Bro-in-Law get up and beat me to it. While waiting for him to finish, my cousin eventually showed up after having an afternoon nap (his time). We chatted for a while, but by now it was nearly 10.30am and I was probably going to have to get the 11.30am train to make my lunch date on time. However, while chatting to my cuz, Big Sis made it into the bathroom ahead of me. I chatted to my cuz until she had finished, by which time it was virtually 11.00am and there was virtually no hot water left. Great. I tried not to snap at Big Sis when she told me this, knowing that for one thing, I had been awake for four hours already and could have had a bath ages ago and also that I am feeling rather hormonal and snappy. I had a lukewarm shower, which probably helped me to keep it brief, got dressed in a rush and legged it to the train station without having time to even stick some concealer on my blemishes.

Feeling in an increasingly irritable mood, I sat scowling on the train, listening to music and changing half-way to get the tube the fifteen stops to my final destination. I put mascara on while on the tube, which I prefer to avoid doing, but felt a little bit naked without. For a change, I arrived about twenty minutes earlier than our agreed 12.30, so popped into a couple of shops, resisting the urge to buy things I can’t afford in a bid to cheer up my foul mood. I was feeling unsociable, hormonal and low, which physically had me feeling extremely lethargic and seemingly unable to summon enough energy to walk down the street at a decent pace, never mind hold a conversation over a long lunch. At about 12.25, I meandered down to the restaurant and bagged an armchair by the window, texting my friends as such and knowing they would probably wonder if I had forgotten about the clocks changing and got here early by mistake.

S arrived not long after me, expressing jokingly that she was impressed with my timekeeping. We moved tables after realising that the one we were at was more suited in size to coffee, than plates of food. We had a chat while waiting for N. She updated me on what was happening and I felt concerned as she explained some relationship difficulties and suchlike. I responded, asking questions and expressing my perspective, but although I was engaging mentally and emotionally in the moment, I felt almost inanimate physically.

“Are you OK, Em?” S asked, seeming concerned.

“Yeah, I’m OK,” I answered, unable to summon up the acting skills which aren’t that great even on a good day.

“You don’t seem OK.”

I explained that I had been going through a low patch because of a few things that had happened and was finding it draining, both emotionally and physically, which made it quite difficult to function normally and put up my usual front that I am required to show at work. She was understanding and sympathetic.

“It is hard keeping up that professional façade, when you don’t feel like that inside. But when you’re with friends who know and accept you as you are, you can just be yourself. You don’t have to do that with us.”

It was actually nice to have someone ask, who cared about the answer and who knew how to deal with it. I felt relieved and more relaxed. My friends know about my depression, so I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable telling them, but I don’t like the feeling that I almost have to make the announcement that “I’m feeling low today.” I don’t want to be made a fuss over, but I do sometimes feel it is necessary to explain what could be perceived by others as lack of interest or aloofness. What makes it harder is when I am around people I am not close enough with to be able to explain this to, which means that I instead just try to avoid those people so that I don’t have to drain myself of the small amount of energy I do have pretending to be ‘normal.’

We chit-chatted a while longer over drinks until N arrived, then ordered our meals, all agreeing we would choose desserts over starters. Three hours, three chicken dishes, three desserts (mocha cheesecake, lemon tart and tiramisu) and three pots of tea later, we had laughed till our bellies hurt and discussed everything including work, career plans, relationships, colleagues, birthdays, holidays, marriage, feeling stifled, independence and (specifically relating to me) the outcome of the saga with NY Guy. Part of me had been reluctant to see the girls, because when I had my last Sunday lunch with them, NY Guy and I were still together and they knew he was planning to come over. I had been dreading relaying the whole back story to them, mainly because it drains me to even think about it, but I knew that they would ask about it. They were suitably supportive of me and insulting of him, both being completely baffled by his behaviour and coming to the conclusion that there is obviously something wrong with him (lol).

I explained to N that I had mentioned to S about feeling low, but that they had really cheered me up and it had been lovely to see them as usual. It was nearing 4.00pm and I realised I would need to hot-foot it out of there, if I wanted to get home in time to drop off some stuff and have a quick costume change, before Mum arrived to pick us up for the concert at 6.00pm. We paid the bill, wandered down towards the station and said our goodbyes with big hugs and the suggestion to meet up again at the end of next month. It had been a really lovely afternoon. I got on the bus and checked the time, realising that it was actually going to be a bit tight to make it home.

Five minutes from the train station, I got a text from Big Sis.
Mum's here already. Are we meeting you up there?
Checking the time, it was only 5.00pm.
I thought we were leaving at 6?! I asked. I'm a bit later than expected.
Yeah I know, Mum’s getting stressed!

Feeling the hormones surge again, I knew I was definitely not in the mood to be around Mum when she is like that. I had missed a train by a couple of minutes and there wasn’t one for another half an hour. I texted back, feeling irritated that I hadn’t left enough time and irritated that Mum seemingly couldn’t wait 10 extra minutes for me. The concert didn’t start until 7.30pm!

Fine. I’ll meet you up here.

I now had to wander the streets like a nomad, not really wanting to get to the venue too early and also knowing that I should probably get a bite to eat before the show, which would be easier and less expensive where I was. I caved into my hormonal cravings and bought some KFC, but wasn’t feeling especially hungry just yet, as I was still full from my ample lunch. I sat at a table and ate my chips, deciding to give The Mrs a call for a quick chat, but she wasn’t around. I went to the loos to powder my nose (and my forehead and my chin and my cheeks and pretty much my whole face, lol) and doll up a little for our evening. It was still only about 5.45 and I had ages to kill. I decided I might as well make my way the three tube stops to the venue so I could pick up the tickets and sit by the river, which was way nicer than being in the train station. When I got there, I had to cross over the footbridge to the South Bank, which I did at a nice leisurely pace (which still only took me five minutes). The Royal Festival Hall was directly opposite, so once I walked down the steps from the footbridge and entered the foyer, I had picked up the tickets from an automated machine within approximately five minutes of being there. Hmm, that didn’t kill quite as much time as I’d hoped. I was hot (wearing a sweater dress, which was the reason I wanted to go home and change), so went to sit facing the Thames so that I could get cold in time for the concert.

It was lovely looking out on the river after dark, with all the nearby landmarks lit up prettily, a slight breeze ruffling through the leaves on the trees overhead and the gentle lapping of the river next to me. I stood for a while, leaning against the railings, looking over into the water and wondering how cold the river must be. It was a nice evening, not too cold but fairly clear and it was bustling with people around there as always. I had my music on and my iPod threw on Eva Cassidy’s live version of Louis Armstrong’s What A Wonderful World, which seemed to complement the surroundings perfectly. I looked across the river and felt pangs of sadness, confusion, frustration and anger, knowing that NY Guy’s hotel was virtually directly opposite where I was standing, albeit with a couple of buildings in between. I couldn’t believe that there was a river of only a few hundred metres’ width between us, that was crossable via footbridge, when previously there was an ocean of three thousand miles keeping us apart and it didn’t seem to make the slightest bit of difference.

I sat at the river for a while, listening to my tunes and people-watching. I had a moment of fear (and probably paranoia) when a man in a hoodie jogged past me who looked rather like NY Guy, but was jogging too fast for me to be sure. I laughed at the irony of him potentially bumping into me unexpectedly, when he has seemingly tried so hard to avoid me, despite all his verbal attempts at the opposite. Just before 7.00pm, Big Sis called me and I went to the entrance to meet them. Mum was in a bit of a fluster, which my mood was feeling intolerant to, but I tried to be nice and not take out my issues on her. At 7.00pm the doors to the auditorium had opened, so we made our way to our seats, unexpectedly seeing a few people we knew on the way in. The seats actually had a fairly decent view and we got settled in, looking forward to the evening of music ahead.

The concert was amazing. The whole crowd was singing along and the atmosphere was really worshipful and joyous. My bad mood ebbed away and was completely gone after a few songs. The music was fantastic and the sound was still pretty good from where we were, even though the majority of the speakers were of course facing towards the audience, rather than towards the choir seats that we were sat in. I became emotional on more than one occasion, feeling overwhelmed by the beauty of the words we were singing and the sincerity with which everyone was singing them. Mum took loads of pics and really enjoyed herself. When Ernie Haase and Signature Sound came on for their set (to rapturous applause), they waved at the crowd and didn't forget us in the choir seats. I teased Mum to "wave to her boyfriend" because there is one member she thinks is rather handsome. She smiled and then waved enthusiastically, before saying to me completely deadpan, "He ignored me." I got the giggles and it took me a while to calm down. Big Sis recorded lots of video clips on her phone, including lots of our favourite songs, like Mary, Did You Know? sung by the man who had written its lyrics, Mark Lowry himself.

The concert had a short interval, but lasted 3 hours and 30 minutes! I couldn't believe the time when we left, it didn't seem like that long at all. None of us were getting even a tad restless, because we were enjoying it so much. During the interval, a couple who were sat next to Mum started talking to her. Later on, she told us that they were a Jewish couple from Israel, who had randomly seen this Christian concert advertised and had decided to just come along to see what it was about. They kept telling my Mum how impressed they were with the music, the fact that everyone was singing along and the fact that everyone seemed to be familiar with the songs and hymns despite the diversity of Christian denominations and groups represented. They had really enjoyed themselves and were asking Mum about her beliefs, being pleasantly surprised to find that we worship on the same Sabbath that they do.

It was a fantastic evening. We left feeling really refreshed and uplifted, even though it was quite late and it had been a long day (for muggins here, who got up at an unnatural hour). I was really happy that it had been so enjoyable, particularly that Mum had enjoyed herself and that I had been able to play a part in that. All in all, it was a lovely weekend. I was absolutely exhausted when I got home, but I wouldn't have it for any other reason.

For a more detailed description of the concert, see a GaitherCommunity.com member's account here.

The Homeland

Friday evening I got to the rents’ and was joined by Big Sis, because we were due to sing in church the next day and needed to have a practice (it’s been a while, we’re a little rusty). Mum and Big Sis were laughing at Dad and our amusing observation about him being territorial in the kitchen, which Mum tells us is his domain throughout the week. Cooking for Sabbath lunch when we are there, is the only time she gets (mostly) free reign of it. Apparently, before I had arrived, Big Sis had gone into the kitchen to offer her assistance. While standing at the doorway, before she could even offer any help, Dad had asked gruffly, “What do you want?” She had relayed this to Mum, who was glad that it wasn’t just her who is denied access. However, I went in a little bit later and asked Dad if there was anything I could do. He passed me items to take out to the dining table and asked me to get the plates and cutlery. “How come you’re allowed in there?!” Big Sis asked incredulously, with Mum listening on. “Er…because I go in there to just do what I’m told, whereas you two go in to interfere!” We all laughed and eventually tucked into a yummy dinner that Dad had made, with lots of comforting winter dishes.

After a short practice (partly because my throat started to hurt and constrict through the lack of regular vocal exercise), we all got a relatively early night, during which I had my usual bizarre dreams and woke feeling cold, despite me wearing long pyjamas, being covered with a duvet and bedspread and not having the window open. I found it hard to wake and had to take a sprint shower (well, by my standards at least), rushing downstairs to get some breakfast and realising that for all my rushing, Mum was still doing her hair and wasn’t even dressed.

We managed to get to church in good time for the service, which was internationally themed as it was International Day there. There were 39 nations represented (which is actually tame compared to the church’s usual standards - I think it was about 50 last time), some evidenced by the national costumes and traditional dresses that people had come dressed in. There was music of different styles and prayers in different languages and dialects. They had listed us in the programme as representing Mum’s country, but Mum explained that in our household there are technically three nations represented, the third being the African nation in which I was born. A group from the same country had given a musical rendition of a familiar hymn in their national language earlier on and when Mum mentioned this, they waved at me in excitement, at this unexpected fellow country-person (of sorts). When we sang, I wasn’t as nervous as I usually am for a change, but my voice was still a little shaky. The song was based on verses in John 10 and was called I Am The Shepherd.

The message was given by the head elder, who has a very sincere, calming, emotive and thought-inspiring way of speaking. Her message was one of inclusivity, the message being that God’s people are scattered far and wide, throughout every nation on earth and that there are no walls of division that should separate us, of race, gender, educational/social/financial background, status or class. After the service, I caught up with a friend who recently celebrated his 50th birthday by travelling to Ireland alone for a week, to spend some time having a break from work and a spiritual retreat. One of my little adopted children, Big C, came up to show me her national costume, before running off to find her parents. When we left the church, my fellow country-people were outside the front entrance, talking in a group! "It's the African girl!" they shouted over at me and beckoned me to come to them. One of the older ladies (I'm guessing she was in her 60s, but she could have even been older; it was hard to tell from her almost complete lack of wrinkles!) seemed terribly proud and excited that I had a connection to them and they gave me hugs, asked where I was born and then asked for a group photo along with Mum and Big Sis. They were so friendly, very sweet and kept telling me to go back for a visit, because with my place of birth on my passport, they would let me straight in, lol. One of the ladies that we know actually did her nursing training in the very hospital I was born in. Mum surprised them by greeting them in their own language and so on and they were very impressed. Their singing had made Mum feel a little homesick to the point that she told us she welled up with emotion.

When we got home, we had lunch, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to stay upright, feeling really worn out and in need of a lie-down. My planned hour-long nap ended up lasting four hours (I know, the shame), but I woke up feeling much better, although slightly dehydrated. Luckily Big Sis had also had a nap, so we were regenerated enough to then have another singing practice for an hour or more, pleasantly surprised by how much of the Christmas songs we learnt last year we can still remember. I am still finding it slightly disconcerting that we are planning for Christmas already, but at least it’s almost November now, so it seems slightly less premature than in early September, lol.

Dad made us tea and toast while we sang and we ate gratefully once we had finished, had a prayer to close the Sabbath and then watched some of The X Factor and then Harry Hill’s TV Burp that Dad had recorded for us. The Gaither Homecoming Tour was playing a date at the Royal Festival Hall on Sunday night that we had known about for ages, but hadn’t had the spare cash to book tickets for. We had heard it had sold out, but then Mum had seen that they had made the choir seats (those above and behind the stage) available, which were luckily the cheapest seats and didn’t seem to be too bad view-wise. I offered to book for us, knowing that we had all really wanted to go (sans Dad, who likes them but in small doses only) and managed to get three seats located fairly centrally in the third row. I knew Mum would be particularly happy about it because she has been having a stressful time lately and had been really disappointed when we thought we couldn’t go.

I had planned to have a chat with The Mrs that night but got home later than expected, not sure if she would still be awake. Luckily she was and we had a catch-up, during which I was pleased to hear that things are still good with her Boy and that she is (don’t tell anyone) totally in lurve.

“I’m sorry I’m happy,” she said apologetically, “I really didn’t plan for this to happen. I wanted to be your eternally cynical sounding board.”

“I know, I know,” I said, laughing and knowing that I’m probably cynical enough for the both of us at the moment anyway. It’s about time The Mrs had a relationship that made her happy. I am chuffed to bits for her.

“He’s just so gorgeous, Em. Don’t you think he’s gorgeous?”

“Er….yeah,” I answered, not sure exactly how effusive my agreement of this statement should be, thinking there is a fine line between supportive and inappropriate. “He is gorgeous. He’s very your type. He’s an indie boy!”

She still thinks he’s too gorgeous for her. I, on the other hand, think they are very well matched and she’s pretty darn gorgeous herself, but the fact she doesn’t see this has always been the problem.

Before we said goodnight, The Mrs reminded me to turn my clocks back.
“That’s next weekend,” I said confidently.
“No, it’s tonight,” she said, equally as confidently.
“It’s not, is it? Are you winding me up?”
“No, seriously,” she reassured, “trust me babe, it’s tonight.”
“Oh pants, I’ve been telling everyone it’s the 31st. I better ring my Mum.”

We said goodnight and I called Mum, hoping she was still awake as it neared midnight. “I’m turning the clocks back,” she said, before I even had a chance to tell her myself. “Oh, thanks for telling me it was tonight!” I thought, but thinking it probably wouldn’t have been a bad thing if I hadn’t known, because at least I would have been ready early for my Sunday lunch with the girls. After my four-hour afternoon nap, I wasn’t quite ready for sleep at midnight, so I watched some telly for a bit before going to sleep some time after 1am. I had weird dreams yet again, but can’t remember much of them now. That is probably a good thing. Another lovely, restful and refreshing Sabbath had passed, which meant a new week had begun.

Sleepy Sabbath

Today was nice. We had our small group meeting rather than attending our usual church. I was slightly late as usual, even though we were only meeting in the hall that is directly opposite my parents’ house. I woke up feeling rougher than yesterday, so I took my time drinking my tea and eating about 4 slices of toast and raspberry jam (the cold hasn’t affected my appetite, thankfully), then taking my vitamins and paracetamol before meandering over. We had a nice Bible study, and even my Dad contributed, which he quite often doesn’t because his hearing means he can’t always follow the discussion as well as he’d like. We sang a few songs together, then started the main service during which Big Sis, Mum and I sang a trio before our friend Mark gave the sermon.

My cheeky little kiddos were present, the two older girls (Big C and Little C) and the youngest little boy (The Destroyer), who kept jumping on my lap and getting me to lean backwards, so much so that we both nearly toppled off my chair. After the service, we went back over to the rents’ for lunch – Mum’s special soup and home-made bread, red rice, curried vegetable and tofu stew, roast chicken, salad and traditional Filipino greens (gabi), cooked with chilli, coconut milk and fish. It was delicious. For dessert, we tucked into my Mum’s baked sweet cinnamon rolls. As we all sat talking around the table, Big C was stood on my chair behind me, as I sat down. She played with my hair and then announced, "You have white hairs. But you're young." Thanks for pointing that out so loudly, child. I replied, "It's because I'm also very wise." Ha, stick that in your pipe and smoke it, young un', I was ready for you this time! Lol. Thankfully I was wearing a different dress this time, so she couldn’t pull me up on that.

We were having fun discussing plans for the group and generally chit-chatting, but I was feeling more and more tired and had to lean on Big Sis as it was hard to remain upright. Eventually, I gave in and went to lie on the sofa nearby, so that I could recline but still listen to the conversation. The children clambered all over me and used the nearby footstool on wheels to spin around on while pretending it was a boat, with sharks in the water beneath them. I was too tired to play along, but kept laughing when The Destroyer jumped on me intermittently, saying “Hello!” I kept hearing snippets of the conversations, but eventually fell into quite a deep sleep, missing a meeting during which it was decided that I would be the children’s co-ordinator for the group (which they then teased me for my ineffectiveness at, seeing as I was asleep) and a short singing practice, only waking when everyone was about to leave. In total, a nap lasting 3 hours. Oops. My body was obviously in need of rest and recuperation.

After we had exchanged hugs and pleasantries, Mum and Big Sis updated me on the plans while we had a cup of tea and a snack. I got changed and got my stuff ready, as Mum had agreed to make a detour for me to Ikea before dropping us home. On the way, I realised that my plans for Sunday lunch with my uni girlies was probably not going to happen, as I was still feeling rather rough and didn’t envisage me feeling better by then. I texted them my apologies and then stopped at Boots to buy some Night Nurse, which for a change I actually had legitimate reason to take. We then stopped at Ikea and Mum and Dad waited in the car while Big Sis accompanied me to buy a chest of drawers I desperately need to sort out my disorganised clothing collection. I also picked up some light bulbs for my floor and reading lamp and an additional hanging organiser for my wardrobe. After paying, I treated us to veggie hotdogs, fries and a drink each, with fries each for the ‘rents and cinnamon and chocolate donuts for dessert, including a couple for Bro-in-Law in his absence.

We got home after a successful shopping trip and I hauled my goods up to my shockingly messy room with the help of Big Sis. She mentioned that Mum had been into my room when she had dropped by the other day (which, due to the mess, I had specifically instructed Big Sis to prevent her from doing). “Do you want to know what she said?” Big Sis asked, to which I replied, “No, actually. I’d rather not.” I tried on some skinny jeans that had arrived from eBay and wondered if I had been a little ambitious with the 'skinny' part. I got ready for bed, took some Night Nurse and after watching some telly, settled down for a good night’s sleep, looking forward to a thrilling Sunday of furniture assembly and tidying up.