Thursday, 20 January 2011

Making a hash of it all

Adrian is In Bruges this week (capitals because, of course, one can no longer just say ‘in Bruges’ without thinking of the brilliant film). He’s doing his usual thing – eating, drinking, moaning about how tough it is. And I’m here. Making a right hash of things.

Really, I could smack myself. It’s not even as if I have a groaning workload: two columns and a blog post for The Lady are hardly pushing it. Okay, so I should be thinking about rewriting Samael. And I should be working on my new project.

But I keep getting distracted. I blame social media. Someone will make a chance comment on Facebook and I’m off googling and rummaging through my bookshelves. Someone mentions a song on Authonomy and the headphones are on and I’m lost in a nostalgia fest, clicking on link after link after link.

Because there is just SO much out there; so much I want to understand; so many fascinating people to talk to; so much of life I want to grab. How can people ever say they’re bored?

Then, of course, everyday life intrudes. Dogs need walking, clothes need washing, kitchens need cleaning, children need feeding. I decided to fast while Adrian was away (less shopping/cooking etc) but James still needs grub. And then there’s my whole new wellbeing kick. How do I slot in the gym and yoga and meditation?

I tell you, it’s exhausting. And then James texts me to say ‘Can we play squash after you pick me up from school?’ So we play squash and the little toe-rag nearly beats me and by the time we finish it’s late so I think sod it to cooking supper and he successfully persuades me that just ONE meal from the takeaway won’t fur his arteries too much. And, no, actually the chips didn’t tempt me. And then we get onto Assassin’s Creed and kill people and I convince myself it’s okay as it’s Templars and Jerusalem and Rome and all (ancient history, mystical, must be alright, yeah?). And then somehow we end up watching The Inbetweeners and both sit there wincing as the guy horizontally frots himself like an ironing board against this girl.

‘Well, that was embarrassing,’ says James.
‘What was I thinking?’ I reply. ‘I shouldn’t have let you watch it. I'm sorry.  It’s deeply inappropriate.’
‘You’re telling me,’ he replies. ‘I can’t believe I just watched that – with my mother. When you get the next series out on DVD, can I watch it on my own?’
‘Eh?’

See? I’m a walking disaster. Hopeless, hapless mother. Incompetent wage-earner. Crap writer. Lousy housekeeper. Why can’t I be sensible? Why can’t I be like normal people?

But then the sun turns the frosty fields into pixie dust as I walk the dogs. And the SP wakes me up at 2am and so, while he’s having a crap, I stand in the garden in the freezing cold in a t-shirt and UGGs and stare up at the moon, so huge. And then slowly I start to spin around, lost in the night sky. And then I go faster and faster until I’m so dizzy I nearly fall over. And when I come in, I’m so high that I can’t sleep for hours.

And then I think, well, if I were normal I wouldn’t do things like that. So maybe normal is over-rated. And James will probably grow up just fine.

And I’m starting too many sentences with And.

And I’ve got Bob Dylan and Idiot Wind blasting in my ears.
‘You’re an idiot, babe,
It’s a wonder that you still know how to breathe.’


I laugh out loud and switch on the PC...



Moon courtesy of Zoe Lynch (http://zoelynch.co.uk/ )


15 comments:

Dan Holloway said...

you can never start too many sentences with "and" :)

superstar racing said...

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Milla said...

ah, look, you've made a new friend? Do you think s/he's interested in your penis?
I do think that you're getting seriously more insane, Jane but still very dear so keep on keeping on. XXX

Exmoorjane said...

Dan: And it's okay, you think? And great!

Superstar: hmm, yeah. Thanks.

Milla: Absolutely! Am I really? If so, it's your fault. You should visit me more often and make me laugh. I promise I won't wear lycra. ;)

English Mum said...

Pfft. Who wants to be normal? I love you just the way you arrrree (says she, bursting into song). Oh and I watched that Inbetweeners one with my oldest. Cringe.

Northern Snippet said...

That was hilarious,definitely not a crap writer.
AND(in bold) I thought my life was potty..

Exmoorjane said...

EM: Actually, truth to tell, we watched the entire first series back to back..... *the shame*

Snippet: the awkward thing is that I try to post the least weird bits.... *blush*

Miss Sadie said...

You're OK, Jane. Really you are. You're just . . . living a different lifestyle. That's OK. James almost beating you in squash is a sign he's growing up. Your discussion of that evening's television fare was, well, mature (more or less).

You'll survive. Really! As soon as Adrian gets home, the chaps in the nice white jackets will be coming to take you away ha-haaa!!

Dragonfly Dreams said...

I LOVE your brand of "normal" and wish more people were like us. The world certainly would be more fun, wouldn't it?

Keep On Truckin'!

Exmoorjane said...

Dragonfly: Really scary thing? I kind of love it... :)

DD: Yay! You betcha. :)

Posie said...

I know...I know..all these lovely distractions...AND now even the comments on your blog are getting addictive, just loved Milla's quipps.....AND I too must get on and do something constructive....AND facebook is calling.....

Edward said...

Not a crap writer. Got it?

legend in his own lunchtime said...

I thought spinning around under a full moon was normal. It was beautiful last night wasn't it.

Exmoorjane said...

Posie: the comments are always WAY better than the blog. I would read ANYTHING Milla wrote - I bet even her shopping lists are funny.

Edward: okay, boss. :)

Legend: wasn't it just? *deep sigh*

Oops....got names wrong in earlier comment - meant Sadie, not Dragonfly - doh! Had a lovely dog called Sadie, apropos of nothing in particular.

hasenschneck said...

You ARE normal, so normal. Your description of your desire to get everything under control sounds just like me - and I'm DEFINITELY normal (sorry for caps but can't do HTML). Always, always, dissatisfied with the results of my efforts, despite the enormous amount of energy that goes into keeping everything going in a household. I was always telling my children what a crap mother I was being and yet they've grown into the most wonderful young adults (even if I do say so myself), so must have been doing something right. Now my house is quieter with them gone most of the time, but I'm still trying to instil perfect order and, d'you know what, it's still not achievable! But I'm sure that's normal too.