1st of da month

Goodbye January. 

 The month where I have woken up every morning to the words 'Today, Donald Trump..' on the six o'clock news.  Followed by my immediate thought of ...What now?

Here are my January #smallmercies

  

What did January do for you?

Hello February!

start me up

Wait...what...it's the sixth of the month already? Where has the year gone? Do the years really pass by at Lewis Hamilton speed or do we fill our time and days even more the older we get? Whether with families or pets or sports or hobbies or the dreaded d-i-y, is every minute being consumed with lists of things to do?

Now I love a good list, I do, only this morning I planned my writing month; all colour coded, naturally. And to summon the glorious Nina Simone - I'm feeeeeling gooood. This is complete 180 from last week, when burdened with the weight of selection boxes (chocolates, biscuits, crackers, cheese - you get the idea) and lack of creativity, I stumbled out of 2016 and welcomed in the new year with the realization that I hadn't ordered new diary re-fills or a weekly planner pad. Cue panic.

On the other side of a fully planned January, it seems that routine is queen. Maybe after two decades of teaching, the hourly ringing of a bell to tell me where I should be has had a lasting effect. I am happiest when I know what's coming next... as long as it was planned of course.

Yet in order to relish the beauty of calendared life, I happily embrace the chaos of Christmas past. December begins my month of abandonment - exercise mornings, planned dinners, the bi-weekly glass of wine, bedtime routines and any shred of style...*hoists Christmas jumper aloft*. The house is decorated in so much sparkle and glitter our glow can be seen from the I.S.S floating by. In between meals chomping of much chocolate is a bare necessity and vats of mulled wine bubble contentedly on the hob.

But as with all excesses, things must come to a bitter end. Struggling to zip up jeans is not a favourite past-time of mine and I have better things to do that hunt amongst the January jumble sales. So off to the recycling with the choc-cracker-biscuit-sugarylove stuff and back to reality. The trainers have been donned for morning jumping and flailing about. Dinner menus are back in situ. Normal service has been resumed.

 *Turns to January page in diary* 

Today's colour codes are pink, purple and red. Lots to do.

And in the words of my gorgeous likkle niece...Happy Noo Yoo.

the sun always shines on tv

Me and January have never been friends. 2015 hasn't healed our rift as of yet. It's not January; it's me. I saunter out of Christmas-wielding December, full of family warmth and a tummy full of turkey, and walk smack bang into tenebrous January.  With its frost, and darkness, and no celebrations - bar the puffery of the first day which is actually all over by the time we wake up on the first day - and back to work, and slow trudge to normality. January... bah humbug.

I perused for a while - with many -  of hopes, dreams and aspirations for the new year. And yes, I did for a while fancy I could trip the light fantastic and through unopened daisies straight into February's loving arms. 

Then work got miserable - why oh why can't people just be civil and respectful (even when you are the new girl in town)? Then I shivered every morning in my ailing Mini Cooper which eventually shuddered itself to a halt, in the dark, on the school, and was then towed away into the night only to reappear with an almighty price tag for its medicine. Then we shivered for a bunch of days when our boiler decided it'd had had enough and went on strike; we have since discovered that this protest may not end until March! March! 

So just when I thought January had gotten the best of me and well and truly pounded me into the frozen ground; I found warmth in the new round of January dramas. Oh yes, there is nothing better than curling up on my favourite chair, with some good red stuff, and a stack of dramas to catch up on. Scandal, The Good Wife, Stella, Broadchurch, Call the Midwife, The Musketeers, Death in Paradise, Silent Witness, Last Tango in Halifax, Holby City.

Now January...that's what I'm talking about. Cheers!

This post is linked up with #post40bloggers #writing prompt28:how did the first month of the year treat you?

january - sick and tired, you've been hanging on me

I challenge anyone to tell me something good about last month. The 31st January, saw the end of the first month of my unemployment from my 16 year career at the wonderful school, which I guess was my second home (wow, enough numbers in there? -Numeracy ahoy!). And I can tell you the pathetic fallacy of my life is way too apt for my liking.

I haven't gone into huge details here about what has been happening to me and my job, but let's just settle on - it wasn't nice, it wasn't expected, it wasn't deserved, but it is what it is, and I left with my head held high. Don't worry, I didn't do anything that could land me in jail, and I wasn't sacked. So I move on...or at least I try to.

After Christmas, instead of heading into the downhill slope that is Spring Term I have been living la vida mummy. Or 'housewife' as GeordieLad called me the other day. It's okay - I'm alright with the label, for now I am partaking in the hardest non paid job in the land. Except because the 3G are all at school, it's not as tough as it could be. Phews all round then.

Stepping out at a slightly more leisurely pace than the 'get in the car, get out of the car' screechfest that has been in play since 2006, I am grateful for the frozen mornings in the playground waving the 3G off to class, and the fact that their wonderful teachers no longer have to use spidery drawings of me to know what I look like, and that I can now join in the paparazzi - camera waving assemblies instead of hearing vaguely drawn together memories punctuated by silences as the morning's actress is now slackjawed watching 64 Zoo Lane. So it's not all bad. But for every quick kiss goodbye in the playground, there is a foot steeped in muddy puddle as we get out of the car to start the day.  For every smile as I meet them at 3.30 there is a drenched Afro quivering below a soggy bobble hat (that's me btw).  And for every song we sing loudly on the way home as we decide which activity we'll do when we get home (baking, art, swimming, film night) there is a queue of windscreen wipers on wheels lengthening the journey home to an hour.  Not to mention the grey, grey, grey skies.  Who stole the sun, dagnammit?

January had me sinking low as I found myself floundering without a job and worringly, not wanting to look for one. No one seemed to understand that I had lost my teacher mojo and I felt I was staring into an abyss of indecisiveness, loneliness and shame. But this here woman is surrounded by some wonderful human beings. People who have taken time to send heartfelt messages to me, thankfully when I have been slip sliding into sadness - usually just after taking the 3G to school and the day is about to stretch miserably before me. And as I have taken baby steps through this infant month of 2014 I have found strength from those around me. Cups of tea and cake with lovely ladies at home right now for other reasons, hurried phone-calls with old working buddies now on a different day schedule to me, and late night whatsapping with girl-mates to catch up on the gossip. And I know they're all just checking in on me to see if I'm ok.

And I am...I will be.

February dawned with a luscious blue sky which kicked the grey clouds aside for a short while.On our early morning walk on the 1st Feb, with the 3G, I took a moment to remember what a cloudless sky looked like, and decided it was to time to get strong again.

Wish me luck.



Goodnight London, wherever you are.