How did I get here from there? And why?
I was at loose ends after a huge international conference that I had managed over four weeks in Brighton, and planned for over six months. Arrived home in Windsor, Berks., exhausted and ready to collapse into the weekend.
Got a call from a fellow contributor to the conference and now my ex:”here through the following day”, with a flight booked to SFO: looking for a London guide…”
Me.
Welcome to …
My life as a Brit Abroad!
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A man came home from work and found his three children outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn all around the front yard.
The door of his wife’s car was open, as was the front door to the house and there was no sign of the dog.
Proceeding into the entry, he found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall.
In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a cartoon channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing.
In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door.
He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that something serious had happened.
He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door.
As he peered inside he found wet towels, scummy soap, and more toys strewn over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls.
As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife still curled up in the bed in her pajamas, reading a novel.
She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went. He looked at her bewildered and asked:
“What happened here today?’”
She again smiled and answered, “You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world I do all day?”
“Yes,” was his incredulous reply.
She answered, ‘”Well, today I didn’t do it.”
Via http://www.divinecaroline.com/22324/37661-did-do-day#ixzz1QKGCXkF0
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To receive benefits and paid time off working for a small company here in the USA is almost unheard of. Something that we take for granted in the UK. Let me back track here. I have been employed for 12 months working up to 30 hours before full-time with benes were even considered. This means 35 hours. Not much of a stretch for me but a huge commitment from my employer. I am a degreed professional, working “full time” and employed just below the benefit line but not ok for me to gig as self-employed. If there is a “bank holiday” I may take the time off, but must make it up within the two week pay period. I think that we have five paid holidays, and if they fall on a weekend, sobeit. Don’t know. Haven’t got there yet.
Life is not a Zumba party here in California.
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It was at my suggestion that Sam, my 15-year-old son, reserve a table for a Mother’s Day Brekkie. I had no doubt which one he would pick: KC’s Downtown Grill here in Windsor, CA. Nor did I have any doubt that it would be teeming with families: it’s part of their charm and has been our favourite watering hole since we moved to Windsor as single mum and kid eight years ago, almost to the day.
I have three very special moments that may hit a nerve if you have ever parented a boy teen.
- He told ME what time to be ready to go then showered, dressed, and was ready ahead of time.
- That he took charge at the reservation desk, was polite, patient and quite proud. Several adults jumped ahead of us and he just smiled and said it was okay. The owner, who knows us well, apologised profusely and led us to our favourite boothe – although she didn’t know it. Kinda strange how that happens?
- After a few stilted attempts at conversation we laughed. We’re getting to know one another all over again as a teenager and parent of same. We still like each other. I love that.
Maybe it should be like this all the time? I am a cynic and well versed at remaining so. It took a “Hallmark Holiday” to have mother and son sit across a restaurant table, without electronics or the Sunday papers, and just be.
Happy Mums Day,
When we were young - Sam's 10th Birthday
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Adding to the dilemma is that I dropped him off with two of his school friends, one of whom lives within two blocks. That they are both 14 going on 18. And yes, both are beautiful, smart and young women. (Who isn’t at that age?) To supplement to his babe magnet attraction is our new adorable Cavalier King Charles spaniel. Named Romeo by Sam, hopefully not a self-fulfilling prophesy.
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Dad (George) age four and brother Fred aged 12
The train journey lasted for most of the day, and both Fred and I were feeling very tired as the train slowed to a stop in Port Isaac Road Station. We left the train and stood on the platform with several other children in an orderly group. A lady in an official capacity armed with a clipboard, called out our names and duly ticked them off as we answered. The group then boarded a coach that would take us into the village itself. The coach came to a halt at the top of the hill above the village and we all got off. I think the building that we’d stopped by was called The Methodist Hall, and this was soon going to be the infant’s school.
The group then followed the lady down into the village, where she would stop at certain houses and ask the occupants if they would be willing to take in one or two evacuees.
The group slowly thinned out to leave just Fred and myself. We found ourselves standing outside number 13 Middle Street and the official lady knocked on the door.
When the door opened there stood Mrs Hancock and the official put the question to her. She smiled and said” Well come on in then, I’ll get you something to eat”. That was the start of five very happy years for me.
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RT @minervity: 10 Ways To Become A More Efficient And Productive Blogger – http://bit.ly/decFbG
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1. The Journey
The old steam train pulling out of Chiswick main line station is packed with children of all ages. The mass exodus had started all over England from the major cities and towns that were about to become targets by German bombers.
With a luggage label tied through the lapel of my little raincoat with just my name on it, the obligatory gas mask in a pressed cardboard box strapped over my shoulder, I was just one of millions of children evacuated to the safety of the country. I was just four years old and did not really understand a lot of what was happening, but to be going on a train journey for the first time in my life was exciting. Being so young I was lucky enough to be accompanied by my brother Fred, who was twelve.
- The Harris boys (L to R – Fred, George, Jim and John
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RT @julien: Is your life a room or a corridor? Find out here. http://bit.ly/bY27xn
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