Back, back again, etc.

Just checking in mostly.

It’s tough, here at Boo Towers.

In a nutshell:

Jason’s work is at a pivotal point and we are waiting on external factors to see what happens next which means things are very tense and stressful. My poor boy is struggling with everything and I am spending nights sitting up with him and days negotiating with a largely unhelpful educational system. We are also navigating the labyrinthine ways of supporting him therapeutically. The rest of the time I am still figuring out how to do my day job and how to balance the demands of that with everything else. I rarely see my husband except in passing and when I do we are both battered.

We did manage to sneak off for dinner the other night when Oscar went to see the girls and even though I had only just finished work and was extremely tired, I did not fall asleep into my ramen, so I count this as a date. I am hoping we might fit in another one before Christmas. It very much feels like the wilderness years of parenting small children at the moment. There is never enough time, everyone is tired and anxious and there are inevitably tears before bedtime. Also, things get very sticky, because housework is currently number 9571 on my list of things that must be done in the small windows of free time I am gifted.

I am reading a lot, because by the time I’ve finished all of the above (which is never finished) I am not fit for much else. I did start making another artwork but progress is glacial due to all the see above-ness of life.

I am also eating a lot because frankly, what else is there? Despite the fact that I spend all my time at work on my feet, wandering about, hefting boxes, rearranging teetering piles of books and come home feeling like I have been beaten with stair rods, my jeans are noticeably tighter. It shouldn’t matter, because I am an emancipated woman with no scales who thinks the diet police should get in the bin, but in my weaker, more exhausted moments, it is another thing I find trying.

In good news:

Today is my second day off in a row. 18 months ago Andrea booked tickets for us to go and see Elbow, because she is a wonderful friend and supports my undying love for Guy Garvey and his mellifluous ways. Because Covid End Times the dates got moved and moved and moved, but finally last night was the night.

I did all my sad and challenging jobs in the morning and then grabbed Andrea who is helping her parents out at their family farm in between having a day job and a house somewhere else (because this is life for us types now). We hot footed it down the motorway, abandoned the car at her flat and set off to Hammersmith with hope in our hearts. This is not something I usually associate with Hammersmith which does have lovely bits but seems to be largely built around a very complex traffic system which attempts to kill you at every turn.

We had a leisurely dinner with no-one but ourselves to please and then spent a joyous hour or so jumping up and down and singing loudly. The sign of a good gig was ringing ears, a tendency to shout hoarsely when asked questions and bass so loud it makes you feel you might be having a heart attack. They played a stonking set list with a good mix of old and new material and played Station Approach, which is one of my favourites and one I haven’t heard them play live before. I left the gig feeling happier and more alive and like myself than I have in months.

By the time I got home at 2.20 a.m. this feeling had worn off somewhat, and today I feel rather like a pensioner, but it was worth it.

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