steady as she goes
Things on the new flat front, for which sooner or later I will need to think of a nom de blog*, are crawling along nicely. I get the impression that even the speediest, most straightforward of property purchases goes slowly, with long periods of waiting followed by even more long periods of waiting.
TA's absence is most noticable in our bedroom (please avoid the nudge-nudge, wink-wink response) - suddenly, it is immaculately tidy and will soon be immaculately clean as well. Before you jump to conclusions this is not because I am neat as a pin and he's a slob. I'm finding it hard to fill my evenings and early mornings so I tidy up, I make the bed, I listen to Radio 4 and I read books, my legs are hair-free and my face is glowing from baths and face masks. I have already cooked my dinners for the week (healthy, economical, tasty and yet slightly dull; yes it's a bucket-load of veggie chilli) and have planned my packed lunches and breakfasts (it's worse than Bridget Jones isn't it?). I'm exercising in the evening and stretching in the morning. I need to find the creative space to write more, but otherwise things are going well. My dance card is filling up and next week is going to be busy. The odd thing is TA and I don't really do much in the evenings - I can't quite work out where all these extra hours have come from.
I'm heading down to the Isle of Wight for a four-day mini-break on Friday evening. My last trip consisted almost exclusively of my parents taking me out for pub lunches, car boot sales and restaurant dinners. On one memorable day I had pie (chicken and ham) for lunch, pie (apple and raspberry) for pudding and bought a slow cooker on the way back to the car and then later ate wild boar for the first time. Blogging will not be high on the agenda; eating, sleeping, walking, talking and thinking will. I might even manage to squeeze in some pre-dawn skinny dipping, which is a bit of an end-of-summer tradition for me (and, weirdly, my mum who has joined me a few times in previous years).
Finally, since you've ploughed through so much stream-of-consciousness fluff and dross, recently I've been wondering about whether or not I really do want children as much as I have claimed. TA nearly fell off his chair when I told him I've been thinking that perhaps I'm not so keen on the idea after all. Pretty much since I was old enough to ovulate my biological clock has been ticking loudly and I've been planning a big (in numbers, not obese) family. "One on each hand, one on each breast and one on the way" used to be my mantra. And then, out of the blue, I suddenly started thinking "why do I want this and if I was to have children what other opportunities would I lose?" Having a family, of any size, requires a number of sacrifices. I suppose I'm beginning to wonder if those sacrifices are too big a price to pay. Very strange though to have one's long-cherished aspirations simply evaporate.
* Suggestions welcome, although I'm leaning towards the iconic "the sett".