April 10th, 2007
|01:57 pm - Am I living in a box? And driving an even smaller box?|
Well isn't blogging a biatch; the moment life gets interesting, I get too busy to blog and too tired to get my thoughts out as fast as they come into my head. Then I get days like today, when I feel really low and I think 'maybe I should let it all out the way I used to'. Auntie Mickie's dying of lung cancer, suddenly going downhill very rapidly and this is throwing up the usual quesions of faith along with the dilemma of whether I go to see her this weekend or go to Malc's wedding, as planned, and hope she can hold out until the following weekend. Now how callous does that sound? I feel callous anyway and my family don't seem to appreciate why. I almost felt lonely yesterday and that was weird, too. It was Easter Monday, the steam fair was in town and I decided to go and have a look around. Ma said it was a shame I had nobody to go with, which sounds utterly tragic and pitying but is fairly accurate. As I said to her though (I can't remember in reference to what), this is an observation not a criticism. For a moment I did think 'ooh where did everyone go?' and then I remembered...
Friends are overrated
People like what I do even if they probably don't understand who I am
I seldom let myself go through a week without phoning someone
Fitting in is a luxury I will receive in the next life
I have heaps more fun than most people I know
A lone experience is better than no experience
Being seen as popular yet spending 99% of my time by myself is actually a curious achievement!
So off I went. I have a new car this week, a Dinkycento (see entry pic) with a ferocious 900cc, 39bhp engine! It fits into parking spaces sideways, it fits in my handbag; what more could a girl want? My pastor said it's small and cute, just like me. Hmm, except I'm more butch! It seems most bargainous though- insurance is £150 a year and yesterday I filled the tank from empty and it only cost £24! Does it run on air? This is the start of living life in a model village. You see, I am also in the process of buying a weeny, 38m2 flat by the river. My offer's been accepted, the mortgage is approved and the estate agent has a similar opinion of me to my pastor so it's go, go, go except for the legal crap! God-willing, it will all be settled by early May. The bungalow dream has had to be shelved for now, but a new era looms of building flatpack furniture and reclaiming my job as a taste tester for ready meals. I love my parents and it's mostly a lot of fun living with them, but I desperately need my own space, my own sleeping hours (I can only sleep when they're asleep and end up having ridiculously late nights enjoying the silence at 1am!) and a sense of being settled. I'm planning a glorious, rose-tinted summer of having everything in my life sorted, time to dream, time to be creative, time to relax. Yes, I did decide to smile sweetly at the mortgage dude when asked whether there was a chance of me being made redundant. It's more like a certainty, but not in the foreseeable few months. And I will be by the river again, just like in Factory Lane except with a park and boat yards rather than factories and demolition in progress!
Have made a most terrifying decision. Lily, who makes very few commitments to anyone or anything beyond this week and has bad connotations with church membership, has realised that to buy a house 2 minutes from church and not be a member is rather silly. I participate in the worship band every week, am on the listening team, go to a housegroup, do random dramas and have just helped with the church Easter festival so it's not like I'm on the edge looking in. It just seems a bit final being a member; it's a step I've never taken before, but that's probably a contributory factor to my (mostly irrational) fear. I have never felt so welcomed by a church before so it's time to face another fear.
I am having the most pointless day in the history of work. I went off for a 10 day holiday leaving a huge mess and lo! I return to an empty office and nothing to do. Score! I've had a stunningly relaxing time cycling around Exmoor. Good fun, good food, good weather and good roads would be a neat little understatement. It was so beautiful that I stopped cycling at one point and burst into tears, just feeling blown away by the creation God has given us to enjoy. I arrived in style at Watchet on the WSR steam train, I went horse riding in Doone Valley and cantering across the moor, I ate fish n chips by the harbour in Ilfracombe, I spent Palm Sunday meditating at (a totally deserted) Cleeve Abbey, I had a Jane Austen day at Arlington Court complete with a carriage ride, promenading around the lawns and playing a gorgeous 1872 piano and check this, I'm sunburnt! It was one of those weeks you wanted to go on for ever. The final youth hostel in which I stayed was on the hill where All Things Bright and Beautiful was written and you could see all the verses in the view- the purple headed mountains, the river running by, each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings. It was just brilliant. The last time I was in Somerset was 12 years ago and although there were a few bits I recognised, it was quite an adventure and there seemed to be an endless stream of delights to discover. As I was cycling down a wooded lane along the top of the cliffs near Lynton, I passed a National Park sign with the Bible verse 'lift up your heads ye gates, that the King of Glory may come in'. It was unexpected, bizarre and superb; there should be Bible quotes all over the countryside! I don't know how anyone can be out in the hills or by the sea and not feel close to God and think all of this majestic world was a nifty consequence of chance.
There we are Lily; no need to feel down. Remember the wonders of the past week, remember God's love, remember the joys of blogging and killing another hour of a slow day. Choose life, choose procrastination, choose clearing your head out, choose filling cyberspace with pointless ranting, choose sunburn in April and having a glorious time...
Current Mood: mind-bendingly tired