It’s Like Coming Home.

Hi All

Just one more day and my DIY sparring partner goes back to work. I can hardly wait. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been quite nice having him around, under my feet for the last fortnight, and we have refurbished the bathroom, but my nerves are at an all-time high.

I need head-space. Time to think without being constantly bombarded with questions.

‘Are you hungry yet? What are we having for lunch? What time are we having dinner? Would you follow me in the car so that I can take my motorbike to that chap in Nova Scotia, (slight exaggeration) and pick me up, because it isn’t running right?’

That sodding motorbike is like a cloud of doom hanging over my head. I’ve lost count of the hours spent taking it up and down the motorway to the ‘’guy who is really good with bikes!’’ If he was so frigging good why have we just collected it for the third time in as many weeks? And then, when I’ve arranged my whole day around ‘us’ Richard announces, ‘Do you mind if I piss off out on my bike for a ride?’

He doesn’t actually say ‘piss off,’ but he may as well, because that’s what he means. By this time I’ve lost the will to live, besides anything else, and just spend the alone time scrolling Facebook instead of writing.

I controlled myself a little better last night, when the boy-racer took off for a quick spin…and spent two hours on You Tube listening to sad songs from artists that most of you wouldn’t even know. I’m feeling terribly vulnerable at the moment. Sad. A little depressed – well, quite a bit depressed, actually. I have no real reason or reasons. I think the trip-out to the coast last Monday started this dip.

We travelled to Sheringham, on the east coast. Sheringham is a smallish town, very unspoilt and with the local ‘accent’ to be heard on every corner. I know it so well…Sheringham not the accent. My parents had a caravan there, when my brothers and I were young, and the memories I have of that place are ingrained in my heart forever. I remember stropping off, under instruction from my parents, to clamber up and slip down Beeston Hill, along the sea-front and into town to the local bakery at the crack of dawn to fetch a large uncut loaf. It felt like a bit of a chore then. It wouldn’t now. Not if I was returning with the still warm, freshly baked bread to two loving parents.

Somehow I seem to have an affinity with the place – the east coast. I guess that’s why I set my novel ‘Starfish’ in this area? It’s like coming home. I can only explain it that way. Travelling the coast road, seeing the places I saw so many times as a child, brings the memories flooding back. Sometimes they come as a ripple on the beach, sometimes they come as a tsunami. I can handle the ripples. The tsunami is harder.

And of course…it’s Father’s Day, and it’s mighty tough knowing that there is no one to buy a card for. Memories of my dad, like the childhood memories, come as daily ripples or a once in a while tsunami. Again, the ripples are easier to manage.

But…hey-ho all things pass and I will shortly rise from this gloomy me. I always do. And I really don’t mind feeling this way. I’m an extremist. I have black and white moments. I have manic highs and silly self-indulgent lows. It doesn’t matter. That’s me. And frankly, tell me, is there anything more sad and self-indulgent than Des O’Connor singing ‘My Cup Runneth Over,’ (You Tube ). It’s a bloody miracle I made it through the night!

So you see, I can’t blame Richard for this…well not totally. He is a bit to blame…

As I write this he is attempting to mend a leaky u bend beneath the kitchen sinks. I am having nothing to do with this. I am writing my gloomy blog. However, I fear that having mentioned ‘tsunami’ twice, I should lift my feet and wait for the flood to hit?2014-06-09 14.17.58

Take care my lovelies x

PS A special welcome to new followers Amy Saab, WilliamtheButler, Jonathan Roumain and theeditorsjournal.

Advertisements

17 thoughts on “It’s Like Coming Home.

  1. Hi Jennie, despite your gloom, I enjoyed your post. Reminded me of all my gloomy moments and I have a lot of them. I have learnt to live with them though, regarding them as my brains way of having a day off. I suppose it is entitled…
    I know what probably caused yours, cos it happens to me every time my routine gets a wack!

    Like

  2. I would say you were having a bad dose of nostalgia rather than depression – I get that every time I drive past my childhood home – all the memories come flooding back and I wish I could go back just for ten minutes to tell both parents that I loved them, just ten minutes back in that garden where for hours I would event castles and kingdoms (no wonder I became a writer). And I can go down for a few days based on these wishes. So I understand how you feel. But I must tell that I love Richard – all the way from here in Cape Town. I think he’s just the most perfect husband. There. That should cheer you up!

    Like

    • Bless your heart, Malla. Yes it does cheer me up because I’m going to send Richard to you and you can love him even more, *manic laughter.* See, I’m already happier? Joking apart, thank you. And I think you may have hit the old nail right on its head. I think it is nostalgia. The more I think about it the surer I am. So thank you for your kind words…and which airport should I send Richard to??? Hahahahaha…xxx PS That garden from your childhood sounds magical!

      Like

  3. I seldom get gloomy and only nostalga will take me down for a short time ( or a bollocking from daughter. – she can be shatp tempered because she has deoression) . Wll not really true, she has always had a sharp tongue at times. I do not know how to lift your spirits, only hope the do rise. Maybe it is because your routine has changed due to having Richard around more than usual? Sometimes when hubbies have time off the balance of power is altered altered and can upset careful plans. Evelyn

    Like

  4. Oooh. Not used to you being down whether it’s nostalgia or depression. Don’t think listening to Des O’Connor was a very good idea by the way! Hope you’ll be back to your happy self soon. I bet you’ll spend plenty of time in the garden next week, that’ll lift your spirits. Sending you cyber hugs (whether you want them or not) x

    Like

    • Cyber hugs are brill…thank you Deb. And to be honest, a day makes all the difference. Richard’s back at work. I’ve had a dance round the kitchen to Pink (not Des!) and I’m off to continue with the book! xxx

      Like

  5. I’m fortunate (?) in that I had a rotten childhood so never get nostalgic for it. I do sometimes get nostalgic for the days when my children were young. It only lasts till they come visit and their kids wreck the house 🙂
    Hope you feel better soon, but Des O’Conner? Really? I’m surprised you managed to climb out the abyss to write your blogpost, Gail 🙂

    Like

  6. haha honestly Christine, you have made me laugh! I’m with you 100% re the grandchildren. It takes us an hour to put the house back to normal after one of their visits. And Des? Yep I’m with you on that as well to be honest. For some God forsaken reason I always fall back on him – not literally you understand? I remember a Christmas Day, on my own, with a pot noodle (cant remember which flavour now) and Des singing Danny Boy, on repeat. Every Christmas since then has been a bonus! Thanks for making me smile…mind, Richard is back at work today and I’m feeling soooo much better. And I’ve opened-up the Word file with the first 5,000 words of the new novel and I’m about to continue… xxx

    Like

    • Hi Geoff, yes Betsy is still running – and choking me with her exhaust fumes (all par for the course!) But she is quite useful now for fetching compost and bales of shavings for the chucks so at last she has come into her own. Hope you are well my friend? x

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s