Five Minute Friday: Finish

GO.

I grew up persistent.

In my family, in my friendship group, at school, I'm the one who kept going. Moving.  Forgiving.  Holding on.  The tapestry of people around me, I often felt like I was clinging on to the end of the threads.  Who knew what would happen if I let go?

As I get older, I've learned there's a grace to finishing.  To the ending of something.  To honouring an experience, a friendship, a habit, by giving it the dignity of a peaceful, happy end.  Even fairytales conclude!

When I was younger I was so afraid of losing people.  Growing up in our little nucleus, moving around around the country again and again and again, just the five of us, made us close, but also separate.  Grandparents were distant, or distant (some through geography, some through actions and choices).  Aunts and uncles just weren't there.  Friends were lovely, but when you're little it's hard to constantly be making and breaking friendships as miles stretched out between homes.

So as an adult, I carried this behaviour forward.  Now for the most part, it's a great skill.  The skills I learned - of letter writing, birthday remembering, the importance of making time to BE THERE - are real, vital, important things, and are a big part of the reason I have such wonderful friends now.  In three weeks I'll be having my 14 favourite women in the world stand up with me as my bridesmaids, and despite the years and the miles, our friendships have lasted.  Whether they live 2 miles away or 4,745 miles away; whether we've known each other 5 years or 29, I'm so glad we didn't let our friendships finish.  I thank God they continued.

However, there have been friendships I've had to let finish...and it took me quite a while to realise when, and why, and how.  That pesky people-pleasing gene kicks in and I want to keep things going.  But gradually, slowly, a little bit painfully, I'm learning to let go, to have things finish.  Someone who tells you lies, or who talks about you behind your back, or who is judgey (and not helpful-judgey) about your life...it took me the best part of thirty years to learn that my life was better off without that.  And that sometimes the very best start, is actually a finish.

STOP.

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Five Minute Friday: Bloom

"Bloom where you are planted."

I've always loved that phrase.  I can't recall where I first heard it, but it's one of those lovely quotes I'm so fond of collecting.  I collect words of wisdom as others collect badges or coins or pebbles.  I like to keep them in my pocket to pull out and look at when the mood takes me.

It's a good quote.

Next month, M and I will be starting our marriage.  Planting a seed that I, and he, and we, hope will grow into something strong and good and hearty.  It's something that we want to nourish and enjoy, to watch flourish and bloom.  This season of being engaged has been fun, but I'm so ready for the big day.  And the bigger life.

I've been thinking about growth, about blooming, in the recent past.  I'm unbelievably lucky, but a few things had been niggling.  I have long been a people-pleaser, and recently I've been working on this.  Because while I want to be a great partner, friend, teacher...I've realised that another quote is true.  "You can please all of the people some of the time.  And some of the people all of the time.  But you can't please all of the people, all of the time!"  And some people just aren't going to be pleased.

Yep, at the age of 33, I'm finally making peace with the fact that not everyone is going to like me.  And that's okay.  Now, please don't get me wrong, I'm hoping that not too many people actively dislike or hate me, but I'm sure there's a healthy whack of people for whom I'm just not their cup of tea.  Maybe they don't get my sense of humour.  Maybe they are annoyed by me.  Maybe we used to get on, but have both grown up and apart.

Who knows?  Who cares.

There's a cast of lovelies who I adore, and to quote Frank Turner, "I'm happy and I'm settled in the person I've become."  My friends are quite well able to tell me when I'm being a muppet (hint: frequently).  As for everyone else; good luck to them.  I'll carry on walking my little path, and enjoying the company on the way.

As I grow and bloom.

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Five Minute Friday: Together

Taking a moment (or rather, five minutes) to embrace the click of keys, the words on the page, the unique soothingness of writing (if soothingness is even a word).  Linking up with the fierce and lovely Lisa-Jo.

This week, the prompt word is together.

GO.

It's a powerful word, together.

It conjures up a million little memories, the moments that make up a life, the people that populate the tapestry of each one of our personal histories.  It makes me think of silly moments, deep moments, precious moments.

Together is watching two dear friends marry one another - something I'm always reminded of as three sweet friends celebrate anniversaries at this point in the year.

Together is hanging out with my siblings, pjs and board games, or building the Lego we still won't let our parents get rid of.  There may be no grandbabies yet, but we are still not too grown up for Lego building.  The only difference between now and twenty years ago?  We can sip wine as we build.

Together is my classroom, stories and injokes and adventures with the gang.  My boys and I are a team, and helping them in some small way, a little step in their journey, doing things together, is a pleasure and a privelege.  We learn so much from one another.

Together is weekend mornings with Matthew and the katzen, chatting and cuddles and tea and daydreams and wedding chat and kitty snuggles.  Time to spend together, away from the busy demands of the every day.

Together is brunch, or lunch, or coffee, or dinner, or drinks, with my lovely friends.  Sharing stories, venting about worries, making sense of the journey.  Together.

Together is going home, whether to Matthew's family or my own, getting swept up in the bearhugs of our families, different as they are.  What a pleasure to do life together.

Together is a dancefloor, a concert hall, a theatre.

Together is a wish, a hope, a treasure.

Together is better.

STOP.

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Five Minute Friday: Lonely

Linking up with Lisa-Jo for the five minutes today.  No overthinking.  No planning. Just five minutes, the tap of the keys, the words pouring out, hoping to write something that speaks.

Today's prompt word is lonely.

GO.

When I think of being lonely, the times that spring up are not just times when I've been physically alone.  Sure, there have been times like that where geography, work schedules, busy-ness have kept me on my own a lot, but being alone is very, very different to being lonely.  Lonely is hard and sad and frustrating...being alone is a game of two halves.  Being alone has its strengths, its joys, its learning moments.  Being lonely is hard, draining, unkind.

The loneliest times of my life have often been when it hasn't been physical apartness that's been the problem.  It's more when you feel rejected by those around you, left out, misunderstood.  Or when you're dealing with something that others can't understand, when you have to take a path unknown, alone.  I think of nights at boarding school, my first year when I was eleven, and hearing Erica and Hanna, the resident mean girls, whispering horrible things about me after lights out.  I'd lay there in my little bed in the dark, head under the duvet, clutching onto Jockey Bear with his smell of home, and listen as they listed my many flaws.  They wanted me to hear. Now in hindsight, I see that they were the problem (they were mean about everyone!), but when you're eleven and a little shy and a lot nervous and your mum's in another country, you can't see that. Good heavens, but I felt lonely.  It got better as I made friends and Erica and Hanna moved on to fresher targets (they actually both left the school a year later for bullying and other mishaps - Erica was expelled, Hanna 'invited to leave').  But eleven year old me didn't know that.  She just felt lonely.

It's the loneliness of loss.  When I was seventeen one of my best friends from boarding school, A, died.  She lived down in the south of England at that point, while I had moved to Scotland after my parents had returned there.  I was happy, settled.  I remember walking down the path and opening the door and my mum's face as she had to tell me the news.  Realising I'd never talk to A again.  The deep, dark, huge chasm of sad that opened up inside me and swallowed my heart whole.  Losing A was lonely, lonely, hard.  Losing her and being surrounded by people who liked me and wanted to help me, but who hadn't lost someone and had never met A, didn't know how wonderful she was, had never seen her swim or play and tell a joke?  Was incredibly lonely.  I was so grateful for their attempts to help, to listen, to support me...but the road was long, and lonely. She was pretty much my last link to that school.  I went back once since to visit, but it just felt like a different space.  Without my friend all I felt was lonely.

There have been other lonely times - bad friendships, toxic people, hard moments, but one of the things I love about my life today is how rarely I feel really, properly lonely.  Sure, there are times and seasons where I feel alone or deprived of company or a little left out, but my time on the planet has taught me that this too shall pass.  And compared to how lonely I felt lying awake in that dark dormitory, or as I worked through the grief of a friend gone far, far too soon, the little lonelies are so much easier to ride out.  And the easier to survive with friends, family and fiancé as great as mine.  So grateful for that.

STOP.  

Names of bullies changed. Because that felt right.

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Five Minute Friday: Belong

Linking up with Lisa-Jo and Ann, on belonging.

Five minutes, just writing, words on the page.

Real, vital, full of the tang of 'truthiness', as my class might call it.

A blessing.

GO.

For the first quarter century of my life, I always felt like I didn't belong.  The RAF brat, always moving.  The black sheep of my lovely family, mum and dad one unit, my doorstep siblings the other.  Boarding school and the 24/7 game of thrones that can sometimes be.  Neither Scottish nor English, a mutt.  New houses, new faces, new schools.  

Always having to find a new space in the pecking order.  Sometimes top dog....sometimes bottom of the heap.  University for undergrad was more of the same - while I picked up some lifelong friends during that time it was also a rollercoaster of emotions and there were some dark times.  And always, always, I felt like I was walking on the ice of a lake before the thaw.  Supported....for now.

After university came a gap year, then PGCE, then work.  My confidence grew a little as the months passed by and I started to feel a little more secure.  A little more like I belonged.

And then the loneliness hit.

Working sixty-five plus hours a week, hundreds of miles from friends, family, loved ones.  Single like it was my job.  The first two years of teaching taught me so much about belonging, because at my most alone physically, I realised that I did belong.  I was loved and needed and heard, even when I went for days or weeks with no-one to hang out with or talk to beyond the school days.

Phone calls, letters, emails, blogging - through these media, the lonely little girl who felt like she never fit in learned, as a woman, that she had a place.  A voice.  Something to give.  Those four years in my little flat in the country ended up being the making of me - not only did my first job set me up beautifully for the career I adore, but the being-on-my-own so much taught me that true belonging isn't just about being surrounded by people (a big learning moment for this boarding school brat!).  It isn't about geography.  It isn't about a daily call, or a weekly letter, a monthly meal....it's about all of us in our little orbits, making sure we cross paths where we can.

And now, I truly feel like I belong.  My family and friends and Matthew are so great at helping me when I forget this, and this blesses me every day.  My life may be quirky, but it's mine.  And here, in my little quirky place, is where I belong.

STOP.  

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Five Minute Friday: Present

Linking up with the lovely Lisa-Jo like it's my job.

Grateful for a calming of pace, a time to loosen the grip on the reins a little and settle into a gentle trot instead of the full-kilter gallop of the end of term.

5 minutes to write, to think out loud, to let the words take you.

And today's word is....present.

GO.

It's a gift, this moment, this time, this present.  All too often we are called to worry, to fret, to nurse the wounds and hurts of the past; to hope and plan a little too hard for what tomorrow might bring.  We can spend so much time doing so that the present, this precious now, gets neglected.  And that would be a shame.

As much as I'm unhappy in my body right now, its lumps and bumps cumbersome and unattractive, I know I'm lucky in my present form - strong and healthy, smiley and rested.  As much as I can't wait for our wedding next year, our present is beautiful too - shared jokes, big dreams, cuddles with our kittens.  As much as I long for more of a voice at work, the chance to help more people, I know my present is special too - my little form of eighteen and I make big leaps together and our stories are woven together in a cool way.

The present is a blessing.

I'm learning, as I grow older, to appreciate the present more and more.  Where the younger me, impetuous thing that she could be, found only frustration or worry, I can now relish most moments and find the sweetness within.  I say 'most' purely because some things (some big, some small), alas, must be endured, not enjoyed!  But in most moments, in most 'presents', there's goodness to be had.  An hour long commute is a chance to read more of my book.  An evening along means writing and TV can move up the agenda.  There are many people on this planet who would give much for a present just like mine, sat here in my home, typing on a computer, safe, using words learned from years of education, before heading downstairs to cuddle my cats, have a drink of water, and decide what food to take from my amply stocked kitchen to make dinner for me and my fiancé.

Truly I am blessed with this gift, this present.

I hope that you too have a present worth cherishing.

STOP.

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Five Minutes: In Between

 

As the end of term bears down, like the smallest shaft of light pricking the dark, dark, dark of a long and exhausting tunnel, I'm finally starting to find time.  To read, to sleep, to chat, to blog.  June in teaching comes second only to September in levels of exhaustion, and I write as one who feels like a shadow...eyebags like trunks, head like wool, body aching.  The demands of exams, activities and reports always leave me wrecked.  There are harder jobs, undoubtedly, but I like to give of my all, and the end of this month always finds me tired.

 

Now, however, we're moving forward and I find myself in the usual end of term whirl - parties and projects and sucking up the last of the goodness before the long summer break begins.  And as my to-do list calms that little bit, it's nice to find time for things that aren't school (thank heavens - I'm running out of clothes!).  Amongst those is finding the five minutes to link up with the lovely Lisa-Jo for 5 Minute Friday.  It has been too long!

 

This week's prompt is in between.

 

GO.

 

It's precious to me, this stage of in between.

 

A few months ago Matthew and I were girlfriend and boyfriend, happy together, bimbling along in our own happy way.

 

And then in April, that changed.  In the nicest, most unexpected, loveliest way.  A small question, a smaller answer, and a shiny pretty ring threw us gently from 'together' to 'engaged'.  And this is the in between we find ourselves in.  Excited to be married, enjoying planning a wedding, and travelling through the unique delights of being a fiancé and a fiancée.

 

It's a fun stage, a busy stage, a stage of lists and plans and dreams and budgets and ideas and conversations.  Between glasses of champagne and dinner chats we email vendors, design invitations and compare notes.  We visit and are visited by families, bridesmaids, best men to be.  We swap stories with our other friends planning weddings for next year.  We look forward.  We  talk not just about weddings, but about the future, the marriage beyond.  We're in between the lands of single and married, and it's a lovely place to be.

 

One of the nicest in betweens I've ever experienced.

 

STOP. 

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Five Minute Friday: Fall

Fridays around here mean many things.  Coffee and a pastry on the way to school.  Classroom tidying.  The delicious moment when the weekend begins.  And linking up with Lisa-Jo for 5 Minute Friday.  Five minutes to write, to think, to feel...

This weeks word is 'fall'.

GO.

For so long I played it safe.

In a world where I'd been hurt so many times, it was easier to toe the path of least resistance.  Lest I fall.

Having leapt before and been greeted by nothing but off kilter landings and the bruises they bring, I lived in a way that kept me safe.  Kept me grounded.  Kept me alone. With all the risks of falling, why bother at all?

I was happy...ish.  I thought sticking with gravity, staying safe, being sensible was the way to go.  So I read my books, sang my songs, loved my friends and kept my heart in a place where falling was not an option.

And then you came along.  And with every smile, every in-joke, every quiet moment I felt a thaw.  A shift.  A longing to leap. And the falling didn't seem so scary anymore.

I'm so glad I fell for you.  I hope I, I hope we, never reach the ground.

STOP.

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Five Minute Friday: View

 

In the busy world, five minutes of calm.

Five minutes to write, think, relish, ponder, treasure.

I adore what five minute Friday does for my writing, and for my soul.

Today's prompt is: view:

GO.

 

 On first glances, my classroom desk chair doesn't look like much.  As I think of it here, typing away in the early morning light, it's hard to picture....almost nondescript.  Standard size, blue and black.  Down at the smallest setting, so my little legs can reach the floor and so I can tuck in under the teeny tiny desks of my Year 4s when I need to pair work, mark or chat.

 But that chair is magical.  Because of the view I have from it.

I see boys growing over the year we spend together.  The faces look a little less babyish, the limbs grow a little longer.  The reactions and emotions change over the year too - from the rambunctious puppies that joined in September I now see a sea of Thornleyites when I look out across the seats.  Thornleyites to a man, each one his own person with his own talents, hopes and dreams, but also now very much part of the party line of the classroom - kind, funny, thoughtful, polite.  I love seeing 'my' boys growing up and taking on the lessons we learn together.

From my chair I can also see....forever.  These boys, these little kittens, have so much ahead of them.  Exams and schools and fun and adventures.  I see all the things they have to look forward to and it makes me smile - here are the writers, the leaders, the lawyers, the doctors, the bankers, the artists of tomorrow.  I tell them I save their cards and letters and drawings to show to The Times when they win the Nobel Peace Prize, or win the Oscar, or write their first book, or become Prime Minister.  The chance to be a tiny part of the tapestry of their lives is humbling and so special.  

So while I could have written about another view - of sea, of city, of mountain - instead the view that springs to mind is the view in my classroom.  Of little boys learning and laughing, and the places they will go.

STOP.

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Five Minute Friday: Comfort

Linking up with Lisa-Jo once more, because that's what we do on Fridays.

Today's word, is comfort.

GO.

Last night we had our open evening for school.  This event is tiring, but worth it - a chance for prospective parents to tour the school, meet the staff and boys, really get a flavour of what we're about.  And even though I had a cold (as I type this I've been awake most of the night coughing and spluttering as the fever tries to move the sniffles on), even though it was late, even though I felt heavy with lemsip and raw from nose-blowing, I was struck by the comfort I felt - the ease with which I can talk about our school and our boys.  I love what I do and the pupils I teach - I'm always ready with facts, quips and discussions. 

Our school is a warm place, I always think, and there's a definite element of comfort to the way we operate. While we want our boys to be ambitious and hardworking and driven, we also want to have school be a haven, a comfort, a place where they feel comfortable.

Because that's so important.  It's in the warm safe places of comfort, as much as the cut and thrust of the playing field, the exam, the competition, that we learn and grow.  That we explore.  That we are nurtured and replenished.  I always feel blessed to have a home full of comfort - a roof, a love, food to eat and cats to cuddle, and am aware what strength this gives me out in the world.  I think classrooms should be the same - a safe and sacred place where learning, kindness and thoughtfulness should rule the roost.

So let us seek comfort, and let us help other people to be comfortable.  Let our words, actions and thoughts build up, nurture and bless.  And let us all appreciate the comfort and peace we are lucky enough to enjoy.

STOP.

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Five Minute Friday: Brave

 

 Linking up for another lovely Five Minute Friday with the lovely, lovely Lisa-Jo.  Because even in the busy-ness of a Friday morning, you can find five minutes if you try.

This week's prompt?  Is brave.

GO.

In my younger years, I was the very opposite of brave.  I was so scared of speaking up, taking chances, putting myself out there.  Better to hide in my little corner, to keep my head down, to take the criticism unchecked, to listen to all the bad stuff I was told about myself.  I willingly hid.  My shoulders slumped forward, my eyes looked downwards, and the negativity I heard thrown towards me, often by people who barely knew me (teachers, dormmates, random boys), I wove around my heart and let it linger there.  Part chain, part armour.

Fat, stupid, ugly, worthless, loud, obnoxious.

I wonder if the people who tossed out those words so carelessly knew how each fresh attack felt like it was tattooed on my heart?

And then I grew up.  I could feel changes from my late teens, a thawing of sorts, and then, over the course of my senior year of university, my in-betweeny year, and my teacher training year, I learned how to be brave.  To step out.  To speak up.

I learned that I could be brave and still be kind and sweet and attentive.  I learned that I could take risks and have adventures and still have good friendships, and a happy family and a good, healthy career.  I learned that sticking up for myself when required....was a good thing.

And I like being braver.  The shadows of my shy, bruised youth and those words I internalised for so long can still creep up and blindside me (at a party, a meeting, a bar), but most of the time the tattoo is forgotten, way down inside me, long since covered by happy memories, by chances taken, by successes celebrated and losses embraced and moved beyond.

And that makes me proud.

For I am brave.

STOP.

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Five Minute Friday: Friend

 

Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.

After a hiatus of sorts, I'm linking up again with Lisa-Jo for Five Minute Friday.  Love the chance to write and read and think and share!

This week's prompt?  Is friend.

Writing about my friends?  Is nothing but a pleasure :)

GO.

Of the many, many blessings in my life - family, health, home, talents, job, kitties, adorable fiancé - my wonderful friends often stick out as one that I must appreciate and take joy in.  Every single day.  If you had told me back in childhood how full to the brim my life would be with inspirational, loving, giving, hilarious people who I adore and who love me just as I am, I'm not sure I would have believed you.

These are the people who make me me.  Who have listened to my ridiculous songs, my stories, my problems; dried my tears of sorrow, pain or frustration; supported me; whooped with joy when I've announced a new job, a new home, an engagement; hugged me when I need the warmth and comfort of a dear friend; set me straight when I've needed to woman up; and made me laugh, time and time and time again.

The love and joy and wonder they pour into my life is amazing.  It's the late night text message, the singalong in the car, the facebook post when I'm feeling a little low, the insistent belief that I'm pretty / clever / worthwhile (even when my own disloyal heart cries out otherwise!).  I'm so lucky to walk through life with such an awesome cast of characters.

My friends teach me something daily and never fail to inspire.  In their own, very different ways, these men and women show me how to live well, and make me want to be a better person because of how brilliant they are.  Their talent, intelligence and kindness frequently leaves me agape and I am so blessed by their generosity, warmth and love.  Like almost everyone, I've had poor friends too in the past - the unkind, the gossipy, the manipulative - but now I'm even grateful for them and for those tricky times.  Having dealt with those people makes me all the more aware how lucky I am in my friends now.

If I'm half the friend to them my friends are to me, I would happily consider myself a success.  I give thanks for the people I call 'friend' every day, and I truly hope that everyone reading this has people in their life that make them feel just as happy.

STOP.

Happy Friday, all!

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Five Minute Friday: Home

Five minutes peace in the Friday whirl.  Five minutes of writing, the click of keys, the words unfurling on the page.  Thank you as ever, Lisa-Jo, for this wonderful link up!

This week's prompt is home.

GO.

Home is my favourite place to be.  Here, with Matthew and the kits, feels like where I'm meant to be.  Safe and warm and lucky.  

Our home is big and a little rough around the edges and sometimes I focus a little too much on the things that need to be done, the things we have to fix, the things that would improve it.  

But most of the time I'm just happy to enjoy it, to appreciate it, to savour the unique joy of looking around and knowing it's ours.  

All the jobs and cleaning and saving seem worth it when I take in that delicious fact!

I never knew I could be so happy in one little spot, but I feel the roots digging down deeper and deeper with the passing months.  It's the little things that I like - the smell of barbecues on summer evenings.  The Orbit in the distance when I open the bedroom blinds.  The sight of our blue door as I round the corner from the station.  The ease of the commute, which I think I could literally do in my sleep now.  The mews of the katzen as soon as I'm in the door (they are such dog-cats!).

In our little home, we're making memories - dinners and parties and celebrations.  Brunches and visits and date nights.  As we round in on our first year, home feels more and more real.  Being here with Matthew just feels right.  Other places are loved and familiar, but here, right now, is home.  

STOP.

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Five Minute Friday: Ordinary

Linking up with Lisa-Jo for five minutes of loveliness in the chaos of the day....

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

This week's prompt is: Ordinary.

GO.

My ordinary is early alarms, stumbly mornings, eyes rubbed and showers jumped into.

My ordinary is "Please may can I....", "Miss Thornley you said....", "Can I move my peg up?", "May we have a joke, please?"

My ordinary is the scent of coffee tickling my nose, the sugary icing on a birthday cupcake, the clink of a wine glass.

My ordinary is kitty-cats, sneaking through doors, fur on my clothes.

My ordinary is the punch of the keys, the metre of the words, the flicker of the screen.

My ordinary is spreadsheets and numbers, patterns and graphs, the joy of order.

My ordinary is tube train madness, elbows and Blackberries, the joy of a seat.

My ordinary is the steam of the iron, the squish and splash of the bubbles, the smell of the simmering sauce.

My ordinary is the hum and strum and music of the city, restlessness and calm and the smell of fried food and damp pavements.

My ordinary is in the words I devour, the books I leave half-done, part-done, almost-done, finished, hither and thither.

My ordinary is the ping of emails, the flash of text, the letter on the doormat.

My ordinary is untameable hair, rosy cheeks, large hands, mad feet.

My ordinary is boy-chaos, papers and pens and treasures secreted behind doors, under shelves, in any available nook.

My ordinary is the sofa dates, the one day dreams, the snuggled up cosy.

My ordinary is tick-tick-comment-tick-cross-stamp, the rhythm of marking, the beat of the day.

My ordinary is not so ordinary at all.

STOP.

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Five Minute Friday: What Mama Did

Linking up with the delicious Lisa-Jo, writing about someone very dear to my heart, my mummy.  I love her to pieces, so the chance to sit down and write about her is a real treat.  I'm afraid I don't have any pictures that really do her justice - like Matthew, she doesn't like pictures to begin with, so the choices are slim at best, and I don't have any on this new computer.

Yet.

Watch out, mother :).

GO.

When I think of my mum, many scenes play out.  Family dinners; gallons of tea shared; books passed between us like illicit substances (ah, the Thornley-woman addiction to words!  She, Sian and I all share this compulsion to dive into the black and white lines of joy, sorrow, horror, adventure); the friendly call of "jammies, please," after a long day at work; the big squeezy hugs as I headed back to school; the fail-safe cupcake recipe which gains more fans every year.  She's quite the woman, and if I grow up to be half as cool as her, or half as cool as Matthew's mother Barbara for that matter, I will be high-fiving myself all the live long day.  Both families thrive and thrill to strong, impressive, kind women.

When I think of my mum, and what she did, and what she does, one quality really shines out.  I'm spoilt for choice really - she's wicked clever, funny, understanding, verbose, kind - but the one quality I most admire in her, the one I covet the most for myself, the one I'll no doubt tell my children all about is her incredible penchant for hard work.

My mother is a grafter.

Never content to sit back and do the minimum, she gives 100% to all that she does.  She's had great success in so many areas, and I'm so proud of her for that, but even prouder of the bucket loads of work she's put into it.  She left school young, worked hard, raised three kids, then started studying up a storm.  She earned her degree and postgrad at the same time as me - commuting down to Aberdeen on the early, early train, then back each evening (that's four to five hours of commuting a day!).  I pipped her (barely) to be first in the family to graduate university, she was mere days behind.  

Now she works long hours helping children and families and I am constantly amazed by all she achieves and how much time and hard work she puts into things.  Whenever I'm tempted to take my foot off the gas, I think of her and getting back into the game happens swiftly.

My awesome, talented, hard-working mum.  I'm so proud of her!

STOP.

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Five Minute Friday: Again

Linking up with the megastar who is Lisa-Jo, as always.  Join us?

The rules?

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

This week's prompt....is AGAIN.

GO.

Again, again, the jauntiness of the ringtone jars with the deep gloopy darkness of the January morning.  How can it be morning again?  How can the hours of peaceful slumbers have slipped by so quickly, like water through the hands, barely noticed?

I hit the snooze button and burrow a little deeper beneath the duvet.  I pull it up over my eyes.  Perhaps if I can't see the clock, it's not time to get up?  I push my head under the pillows, hoping to muffle what's coming next.

'da-da-da-dadada-da-da-daaaaaaaa.....da-da-da-dadada-da-da-daaaaaaaa.....da-da-da-dadada-da-da-daaaaaaaa.....'

I roll my eyes and slip an arm out, groping for my phone in the greyness.  Found, pressed, silenced.

With superhuman effort I push myself out of bed, regaled with words from the angel on one shoulder, the devil on the other.

"Well done, Claire!  Another 5.15 wakeup done!  Let's go watch TV and work out! You can do it!"

"Claire, you utter muppet.  WHY ARE YOU AWAKE???? Go back to bed!  The bed's still warm....."

I choose, quickly, rashly, snatching up water bottle and workout kit, and march myself to the bathroom.  The tiles are chilly on my feet as I change from cosy sleepwear into shorts and teeshirt.  And I walk downstairs, to start again."

STOP.

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Five Minute Friday: Dive

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

GO.

Below me, the water is murky and grey, the depths unknown.  I stand on the cliff top, looking down at the waves peaking and rising, pieces of seaweed and shadowy creatures below the surface, inviting nightmares and dark imaginings.

"All you have to do is jump, Claire...."

I grew up by the sea for a good portion of my life; and in the country, the outdoors for most of it; and I find such peace and oneness there.  Some of my greatest joys and deepest sorrows have been the moments that I've spent away from everyone else, just exploring and spending time with the wind, the waves, the trees.

Despite my London address, I'm a bumpkin at heart.

When ever I think of diving, the first thing that jumps into my head is a day at the beach up in Moray.  The Moray Firth and its coastline is one of the most beautiful places on earth, full of gems of beaches and stunning vistas.  And as a teenager it was my playground.  In summer and spring, my friends and I would pack up a rucksack and cycle out to Findhorn, Hopeman, Burghead or Roseisle and just spend the day together.  One day we decided to explore the cliffs and crannies at Roseisle, and I remember clearly the 8 to 10 foot leap we had to do back into the sea when we realised that we'd walked out quite far and swimming back was much easier than traversing the rocks again on foot.

Ah, teenage laziness.

And I remember, as clearly as if it were yesterday, that feeling of looking down at the water and the not knowing.  The unknown.  The shadows and waves below, a mystery beneath the sun spackled surface of the water.  All you could do was trust.  So I did.

Deep breath, knees bent, and leap.  A moment of air, of flight, of up, and then the splash, into cold salty water and the embrace of the sea.  The pause as you adjust, and a blink later the kick and tug of stroke as I headed back to the shore.

The dive, the leap, the jump.

May we always stay brave.

STOP.

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Five Minute Friday: Opportunity

Linking up with Lisa-Jo for the first 5 Minute Friday of 2013.  Welcome back, friends.

The rules:

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community.

This week's prompt...is OPPORTUNITY.

Go.

Every day is an opportunity.  A fresh start.  With the rising of the sun, the beeping of the alarm, the morning cup of coffee, we start again and are given a new chance.  A fresh page to put the date upon and write some more of the story of our life.

And on each page, on each day, we find ourselves presented with myriad opportunities.  Chances to be kind, honest, inspiring, uplifting, wise, fair....as we go about our daily lives we must choose the opportunities to take, which ones to let pass us by.

There's always a weighing up of things - the opportunity to snuggle in bed with your honey means a half hour's work not done.  Taking the opportunity for a lunchtime glass of wine means the mid afternoon jog won't happen.  Buying that cute sweater in the sale means a little less money in the savings.  There's no right or wrong really - hugs and work and socialising and jogging and sweaters and saving all need to happen, but the opportunities we take and choose not to take are part of our path.  Each decision made has the opportunity to change us, for good or for ill.

Here's to a new year full of opportunities - and the wisdom to use and utilise them to the utmost.

Stop.

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Five Minute Friday: Thank You

It's one of my favourite times of the week.

Time to link up with Lisa-Jo for Five Minute Friday.

And in this week, what better theme than 'thank you'?

GO.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, for this wonderful, busy, silly, lovely, stressful, rewarding, challenging and fulfilling life. 

Thank you even for the things I'm not always eager to praise, for I know in the frustrations there are blessings to be counted also.

Thank you for early morning alarms, because even though I struggle to get up at 5.45am, I know I'm lucky enough to have a job to get to, in an economy where not everyone is able to work.  I also know that getting up is a trial because my bed is warm and comfy, so thank you for my cosy, safe bed.

Thank you for my mortgage.  It's big, it's a little scary, and it sometimes prevents the buying of shoes/cocktails/plane tickets, but I'm so grateful to have a home, a space, a place to call our own.

Thank you for the litter tray.  I know as I clean it I can grimace a little, but it's there because I'm lucky enough to have not one, not two, but three adorable cats.  Thank you for Poppet and Leela and Fry.

Thank you for marking, for the piles of scripts and books.  All the paper cuts and late nights and missed fun times are worth it, for I have students who work well and make progress, and I'm so thankful for that.

Thank you for the quarter-to-midnight emails.  While replying to them bleary-eyed can seem a strain, I know I'm blessed to teach children whose parents are so engaged with what we do in school.

Thank you for the crush of the tube, elbows in my shoulder, face smushed to the window.  I'm so lucky to have a safe and convenient way to get to and from work.

Thank you also for all the more obvious blessings - my love, my health, my family, my friends.  A million little kindnesses, adding up to a life that should always be one of thankfulness.

STOP.

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Five Minute Friday: Stay

 

The time is here.  Time for Five Minute Friday.  Five minutes of just writing, sharing, getting the words out.  Love this link up - thank you as ever for co-ordinating, Lisa-Jo!

This week's word?  Is stay.

GO.

The whirl of the world calls me outward, but oh, how I want to stay.

To curl up on the comfy navy sofa, the one that's starting to do that wonderful thing where it molds to you, where the sags and crevices fit your frame and it feels like a whole body hug.  The lovely sofa we chose together, which Matthew built, swearing mildly, drinking many cups of tea.

To perch on one of the dining chairs and read a book, gently harassed by cats popping up onto the table for a fuss, a stroke, a cuddle, a head doosh.  Poppet giving me a miaow, Leela deciding she's far more interesting than the book and plonking herself atop the pages, purring mischievously.  Fry bringing his favourite string up, all big eyes as he demands a play in his shy, sweet way.

To sit in my cheery study and potter along.  Writing blog posts, writing letters, planning meals and gifts and finances.  Reading books and researching projects, skyping and texting with friends. Popping downstairs to make a cuppa, taking one to Matthew too.

To sprawl on the giant comfy bed, all cushions and blankets and stretch.  Reading page after page, the sky turning from sky blue to grey-grey to darkest navy, lamp switching on as the natural light dims.  Cosy, safe and warm.

To cosy up in the laundry room on the top floor.  Sitting on the airbed watching thirty rock, playing with the cats and some string, folding and ironing as the piles shrink placidly.

I love our house, in all its quirky, half-done glory.  I'm always loathe to leave.

The whirl of the world calls me outward, but oh, how I want to stay.

STOP.

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