72. The kindness of strangers…
Last weekend I was, in truth, feeling pretty low. I realise that this will come as a bit of a shock to anyone who knows me. You’ll have stopped reading my blog – as instructed – before the whole cat-food/porridge/iPod fiasco. You didn’t miss much – it got a bit wimpy from that point.
71. We are verses out of rhythm; couplets out of time…
The truth is, my anonymous blog is mostly onymous. My family, colleagues and other mates know my secret identity: largely because I’ve told them. In general, I’m pretty rubbish at keeping secrets. No strength of character. Expose me to a child learning the violin and in no time at all, I’ll tell you where the priests are hiding.
69. Off I went with a trumpety, trump…
July, last year.
“So are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” said Mrs Jolly-Colleague.
We were at Mrs Domestic-Colleague’s house for an end-of-term splurge of good food and gossip. Mrs D-C bakes-off against the best. Her head-to-head with Jill Archer is the stuff of legends and minstrels still sing ballads to her victorious Simnel cake.
68. The first cut is the deepest…
Sunday evening, autumn, 1966. Muddy paws stretched out, Sheina basks in front of the glowing coals, whimpering through memories of an afternoon chasing squirrels in the woods. LittleSis gurgles, propped up on cushions between Ma and Pa. LittleBro and Action Man are busy conquering the Universe with a fresh haul of conkers. And the Andy Williams Show is just coming to an end. The Cookie Monster has gone back to its lair. Andy turns to us and starts crooning:
“May each day in your week be a good one…”
The horror, the horror! My spirits plummet with the reminder that tomorrow is Monday. My throat is already tightening with stress. It’s all very well for him, I think bitterly, talking of each day being a good one. He is not going to have to face Miss Offord’s sewing lesson tomorrow afternoon.
67. Miss Otis regrets…
Dear Mrs Bloggysphere,
I am sorry that Mrs Jellywoman did not do her blog last weekend. She was very wibbly and might have been a Health and Safety risk as wibbles and keyboards don’t mix.
66. Measuring the Marigolds…
There’s been shaking a-plenty in the staff-room this week and not just from yours truly.
We’re having our PDIs to set our target APS increase across the year; or, in the case of the EYFS, the percentage of pupils who reach the Expected level in the ELGs according to the new EYFS Profile.
I always think it’s a good idea to hook your readers right from the start with promises of excitement to come. Eat your heart out, Dick Francis.
64. Here comes a chopper to chop off your head…
As soon as I could face it, I trawled the Parkinson’s forums (fora? Like dominum? Where is that Latin of yesteryear?). Anyway, trawling. Looking for teachers who had been diagnosed with the Nonsense and were still working. Showing me that it would be possible: that my work – and the associated payslip – were not about to disappear like an unsaved worksheet on the buggered hard-drive of doom.
Indulge me. It’s been a long week; I’m all digressy this morning.
62. But the days grow short…
The phone rings. Even from Sorrento, Ma and Pa still need to keep check on us in case we do anything risky, like crossing the road or forgetting to breathe. Conversation is made more interesting by a combination of poor line and poor ears.
“There’s something wrong with the internet here,” she shouts. “We couldn’t get this week’s Jelly Chronicles.”
“I haven’t done one!” I yell back. “I’ve done nothing but work.”
I can hear Ma telling Pa that my computer doesn’t work. I take a deep breath and have another go. “I said ‘I’ve done nothing but work’. It’s been really busy. Can you hear me, mother?” Click.
60. Give me just a little more time…
“It’s strange,” says DearHeart, as we try to attach the door, “but I keep thinking that you’ve retired.” DearHeart herself took an early retirement before moving to a bungalow. I guess her subconscious now links a lack of stairs with a general liberation from the corporate ladder.
I call Pa to tell him that we’re a nut short of a greenhouse, then we saunter round to raid his tool box. On the way, I realise that her subconscious must have Friended mine because I also can’t get my head around the prospect of having to stop playing houses in order to go and teach.
59. Present mirth hath present laughter…
“So, any interesting presents?” I pass on the Quality Street and add my sweet wrapper to the pile in the middle of the staffroom table. Destination – the sticking area for next year’s Reception Class, the last of this year’s children having finally, finally left the building for the summer.
Mrs Berry shakes her head as she sends the chocolates on their way. “Vouchers. And some really nice letters. Nothing useless at all. ”
“I once got last year’s diary, partially written in,” says Mrs Acorn. “And some used British Airways complimentary earplugs.”
“I was once given a packet of condoms,” muses Mrs Berry. “But at least they weren’t used.”
“I once got given a chocolate thong,” pipes up Mr Headteacher. A shiver of horror passes around the table.
“I really wish you hadn’t shared that,” I say. “Right, best tackle that classroom.” As I haul myself up, a text comes through on my phone. YoungLochinvar has thoughtfully sent me a photo he’s just taken in Smith’s. Back to School, it says. My soul shrinks a little.
The following day, I set off to buy some holiday odds and ends. I need some summer shoes for traipsing around Rome but Marks are putting out their winter boots already. Any minute now, I expect to hear carol singers.
It can’t be good for us, this rushing towards the future at the expense of the present. Not good for me, anyway. Nowadays, I work best on a very short focus.
There was a time last year when I was almost paralysed with worry about how my Parkinson’s might progress and how miserable life would become. It takes very little imagination to conjure up a pretty depressing future.
But I’ve had brilliant support from family and friends including my own ActorLaddie. And I’ve talked with people who are living positively with Parkinson’s and MS, amongst other conditions. And it’s helped me to realise that right now, right here, I am very lucky – my life is good and to be enjoyed. I am very content, despite the start of the football season.
DearHeart is currently learning about Mindfulness and has been sharing with me her discoveries. Her recommended book (here) arrived in today’s post so you can expect all future blogs to be vastly serene. And, as she reminds me, we do only have the present. I’m trying really hard to be grateful for that present. Even if it is a chocolate thong.
The Jelly Chronicles 