Very little sleep, a sick feeling in the stomach and trying to fight away the thought that the next, few, uncertain minutes hold a totally unfair sway over my son’s destination … it is A Level results day and time to log onto the UCAS site for Smallboy.
In my room, I hold my breath. As a parent, I never feel disappointment in any of my children. They work hard, they try their best, it is all that I ask and always more than enough. What I fear, what I dread, is their disappointment and despondency when results are not what they have hoped for. It can be unbearable.
I hear voices and I say quick prayer. Please let it be good news.
“Mum… mum, I’m in!”
Small boy has his first choice University. We are both overjoyed and so relieved that we dance around the house in our pyjamas, waving arms and singing at the tops of our voices.
Later, for our mum-Smallboy treat, we hop on the tram into town to eat noodles and buy jeans. Even later than that, my son and what seems like every 18-year-old on our estate, heads back into town to dance the night (and most of the next morning) away.
Which gives me time to pour myself a well-deserved whisky, raise a toast to my youngest child and think,
A bathroom brimming with Brazilian Bum Bum Cream and a kitchen well stocked with vodka and wine? Yes, I am not in my corner of the North West anymore…week 3 of the Summer holidays takes me to student land!
I am spending a few days with Prom-dress Daughter at her digs in the Scottish capital. Her flatmate is away and so we have the place to ourselves and … I love it.
It is not even an entirely social visit. We both have a fair bit of work to do but this just makes it feel even better. As if I actually live in this lovely vibrant spot, as opposed to just being a passing visitor. Mornings, afternoons and some of the evening we are buried in notes or calculations in our respective corners of the lounge. But in between, we pop out. To trendy cafes, or to sit in the sunny Meadows with deli sandwiches in brown paper bags or simply to step out for a stroll.
Yes, the best bit about my stay? Location, location location!
My middle child lives right in the heart of Edinburgh city. It is August, it is Festival time and it is sunny. The place just buzzes with life and excitement. Whereas a trip at home might be the weekly shop, or filling up the car with petrol, here it is to watch a street performer, or mooch around a vintage shop or listen to some live music, whilst sipping a cool drink.
It feels wonderful. Is it just a reminder of life I once lived and the girl I was, many many decades ago? Or is it time to be that girl again? Next week, Small Boy picks up his A Level results and hopefully the passport to his University life and future career.
Which means that I will be … an empty nester. Eek!
Emotional times for sure … but maybe also the chance to rediscover the old (pre-parenthood) me? Gracious, as I see that in black and white, it feels a little too momentous and overwhelming right now. Perhaps I’ll make a gentler start to a whole new life… by adding ‘Brazilian Bum Bum Cream’ to my Christmas list!
Ooh Ginger cake … just the word, just the thought is exactly what my weary Saturday limbs need to motivate this morning’s run.
It evokes warmth, comfort and the reviving zing of ginger, ‘the wonder spice’, widely recognised for its benefits to digestion and some muscular pain relief.
And I am needing all of these as we jog off today; my knee a little sore following a week in the Lakeland Hills. But, buoyed by a chance for a chatty catch-up, I manage a respectable 2 or 3 miles before my arthritic joint demands that I slow to walking pace.
And my reward? Yes, stick on that kettle and plate up that cake!
It is good. Fruity, rich and delicately spiced, we polish it off with relish. Perhaps it would benefit a touch more spice and I’d prefer a stickier topping in place of the icing but without doubt a grand post-run delight and we agree a score of 8!
My run buddy is off to a (celebrity) wedding next week so I’ll probably swap out the run for a fortnight of some serious arthritis exercises. Thereafter…here’s to my next cake run adventure…
Friday was my last day in my current post, after memorable 14 years …
Yes, quite an ‘end of an era‘ and I’m not sure that it has entirely sunk in as yet. Even now, sitting in a house that resembles a florist shop with enough wine, fizz and whiskey in the cupboard to last me until Christmas my head doesn’t fully know what to make of it all. I imagine that particular reality will strike home as I begin training for a new challenge at the end of August and find myself, ever so completely, out of my comfort zone for the first time in a decade!
But, whilst the location and the colleagues will change, I shall continue working with young people. I got some amazing letters from pupils this term and I think it sort of hit me like a thunderbolt that, for some of them at least, I was ‘that teacher‘; the one who inspires, who builds up, who encourages them to be more that they dreamed possible and who is never forgotten. And that feels phenomenal, such a privilege and … unbelievable! Because when you set out on a career path, you never quite know how it is going to turn out.
And the same is very much true of parenting too.
Yes, back at home we are also fast approaching the end of an era. Small boy has finished his A levels and, with everything crossed (because Physics paper 2 was an abomination), plans to head off to university in the Autumn. Gracious me; when I started my last job he was nervously lining up outside Reception class and now… on the verge of setting out into a new life in a new city.
And he is a great kid, as are my girls, which also hit me the other evening. Because, who can predict what type of parent any of us are destined to be? I know I have made lots of mistakes, I could fill several posts with all them all, but nonetheless when I look at my lovely offspring, with their kind and caring ways, I’ll confess I feel pretty proud of myself as a mum too.
Yep, over the last 14 years, I’ve not done at all badly either at work or at home. So here’s to a ‘little bit of new’ mixed with ‘a good portion of carrying on‘ as I look ahead to the next stage of life’s big adventure…
Sometimes you’ve earned your cake even if you haven’t done any running…
Chorley Cakes from Cissy Green’s Bakery
Yes, I haven’t even run an inch today, nor in the last fortnight actually. Why? Well it all began with a cough!
Oh the cough. One hacking, gravelly, sounding like a person-with-a-40-year-smoking-habit cough. The ghastly, spluttering monstrosity started about 8 weeks ago. I thought half term would see it off, but it did not. Upon my return to work, I struggled to function, clinging onto a huge water bottle and gasping for breath every time I tried to get a sentence out in the classroom. I visited the Pharmacist, polished off box after box of Lemsips and consumed my own body-weight in honey. And still I barked on!
“Have you got the 100 day cough?” colleagues would ask,
“Could it be pneumonia?”
“Have you considered TB?”
Everyone had a theory. And everyday I was wiped out; fights of stairs looked like mountains, my back and chest ached all the time and I felt as if my motivation to do anything at all, even eat, had evaporated.
So, about 4 weeks in, I went to see my GP. I was prescribed precautionary antibiotics plus a steroid spray and was sent for an xray.
Two days later, I awoke at 3 am, making the most horrendous din. In my head I sounded like an angry seal, the offspring,who came racing in, claimed that I sounded ‘in human‘ and ‘like a siren’ as they found me careering around the room seemingly gasping for breath. It calmed down after 10 minutes but I was made to call 111 who labelled this as ‘Stridor Breathing‘ and, having heard my other symptoms, ordered me off to A and E …whereupon we waited for 7 hours before being discharged home.
Later that same afternoon however, I was summoned to the GP… and it is here that everything changed. My x-ray results were on the screen. The GP read them out quickly to an uncomprehending me. He immediately called radiology and, via speaker phone, I heard them telling him that yes, I did need a follow up CT scan and that it was marked as ‘urgent’.
“Why did they say urgent?” I asked, still a little at sea.
The GP mumbled about something needing to ‘rule our the worst’. Upon arriving home from work, less than 24 hours later, I found my GP actually at the door hand delivering an appointment for the very next day. The light was beginning to dawn.
‘So when you say urgent … you really do mean it!‘
I spent half an hour the next morning being CT-ed with iodine ink.
Now I began to feel alarmed. I re-read the x-ray report. It told me that I was on the ‘2 week pathway’. I looked that up. One word. Cancer .
I sat, with a cup of tea, my usually busy mind feeling as if it had been replaced with a blank white board of blind panic.
Not a great week followed. It became difficult to focus at work. I didn’t tell my mum, who was ill. I couldn’t tell Small Boy, who was mid-A levels. My closest friends were terrific, and my boss took me off some duties, which helped enormously. But mostly, I just steeled myself for a long and lonely wait.
But such anxiety is difficult to recall now because… thankfully me this tale has a happy ending. The ‘all clear’ letter arrived by post. The Lung Cancer team discharged me back to Primary Care, with nothing more than a recommendation for a steroid inhaler, and I was overjoyed to be sent!
So, come on, no jogging but surely I’ve earned this week’s cake? And what a belter it is, none other than a Cissy Greens Chorley cake.
‘Is that the same as an Eccles Cake?’ I hear you cry.
Actually, not quite. There is less fruit in the Chorley cake and shortcrust pastry replaces the flaky casing of the Eccles variety. And therein, to my mind lies the secret. With a generous helping of butter, that crisp but crumbly pastry is a triumph, melting seamlessly into the soft rich fruit. For me, a self confessed non-sweet-toother, this is cake heaven. Fellow tasters suggest a 9, but, as I could happily devour a full plate of these beauties, I’m going out on a limb with a cheeky 9.5 and a bold claim that ‘this will take some beating’.
And next week, providing my wheezing is fully back under control, I’ll be back to running and cake sampling to test that out…
Hard to pinpoint exactly when our weekend run became as much about ‘the cake’ as it did the exercise; but it has! And… well who could argue that it’s a blooming fantastic addition to any weekend routine!
We still doggedly rendezvous every Saturday morning to take on the Lancashire hills. Drinking in the beautiful, tranquil countryside which reminds you that life is for living, not just getting by, as we recharge the batteries and get the heart pumping. But my limbs, now in their 50s sometimes, can need a bit of extra motivation these days …and cake will do that for you!
Oh yes, knowing that coffee, catch-up and a slice of something delicious awaits… well it really spurs you on to see that run through to the end!
And, having spread the net wide to savour the confectionery offerings from a range of establishments, we thought it would be fun to celebrate ( and rate) each weekly discovery. And kicking us off to a super strong start are the Angel Cakes from Cissy Greens Bakery.
Described as a ‘true taste of history’, Cissy Greens was opened in the late 1800s by Cissy who was born into a baking family. As a child, she made pies as a passion of hers, but soon expanded to include sweet treats too.
Sweet treats; well there is no better word to describe our post-run angel cakes. The bake is perfection, airy, light and delicious. The butter cream is smooth, sweet and luxurious, For me there is a bit too much of the filling but that’s just me, (always a girl who prefers her cake to the icing) and I am outvoted by fellow tasters.
We polish off every last crumb and award an impressive 9 out of 10.
Next week we stick at Cissy’s for the Chorley cake … or is this local version actually a ‘Rossendale cake’? Whichever is the correct name, I cannot wait to give it a try…
It is Friday around 8am, a colleagues has arrived at work with a plaster on her arm and is regaling us with the tale that led to the unfortunate injury. It involves a mishap with a knife and some ‘Yankee candles‘ during finishing touches to a family soiree. I am full of sympathy for the cut, which looks truly awful… but inside my head, my own carving knife calamity from earlier this week resurfaces. Alas, the setting is far less glamourous than soirees and atmospheric scentedness … and, not for the first time, I wonder where exactly I was hiding when ‘domestic goddess‘ tips were being handed out…
Let me re-set the scene as we head for my kitchen! I am rushing in, late, from work. Smallboy is wearily busing it home from the library and will be, I am sure, as tired and hungry as I am. I rummage frantically around the freezer and am overjoyed to unearth some burgers, nice burger buns and few French fries. Ok, so I know it’s not topping any health eating gourmet cuisine hit list … but it is quick, easy and a crowd-pleaser. All in all, think I,
“Result!“
Then comes the snag. The burgers come in a box of 10, are frozen solidly together and I only need 2. What to do? Well, I reach for a small knife and start hacking. I crash and hammer cheerily away until I notice the knife…
Oh my goodness … it is missing a bit. But here is the question, was it missing the tip when I started…or is the metal fragment now buried in a burger?
For some unfathomable reason, probably to do with the clock now showing 7:30pm, I decide to hope for the best and ‘cook’ on. As my son, turns his key in the lock I am ready to usher him to a comfy seat and present him with a plate of tasty looking food,
“Err .. there is something you might want to look out for while you eat….!”
I mutter, as he picks up his cutlery to begin.
Thank the Lord that Smallboy has more sense than me. In truth, my son is incredulous and, however famished he may be, all thoughts of putting any of it into his mouth are cast aside and forensic burger dissection is instantly underway. Within seconds he is brandishing a small piece of metal accusingly at me. How appalling! The offending items are cast into the food bin and we finish our long day with a dismal offering of burger buns with French fries and lettuce.
Even by my standards, this was a real lowpoint. Definitely not to be shared with colleagues … even on a Friday morning. In fact, as there is still 5 minutes before our morning meeting begins, I decide, instead, that it is time to make ammends. I grab my phone and text my son,
“I’ll pick you up from the library tonight and … let’s go out for tea!”
As we approach the final week of January, I pause to think about how my resolutions are going…
Let’s recap my quartet of intentions:
Saving money: aiming for £400 per month
January brings the annual tax bill when I have to pay back most of my Child Benefit in one of the UK’s harshest penalties against those is us not living in happy coupledom. (Even the Tory Chancellor, as recently reported in many media, recognises the unfairness ”There is a very big distortion in the marginal rate of tax that people earn and I fully accept there is an unfairness with what happens with dual income families” ). Fortuitously though, as I log in to pay my dues this year, I am pleasantly surprised to find a tax refund sitting on my account.
Scarcely has the good fortune sunk in however, before two unexpected costs hit the family budget.
Small boy, hurtling rapidly towards his 18th birthday, suddenly realises that, to make the most of his newly found adulthood in our local hostelries, he needs ID and his passport has expired. So I have to find £82.50 to apply for a new one.
And, on a far less cheery note, prepped and crammed with chemistry facts, my nervous son also attends a university interview at his institution of first choice and …it is awful. I am tempted to name and shame the establishment but, unlike the arrogant, asinine specimens who interview him, I do have a shred of integrity and professionalism, so shall refrain. Their behaviour is absolutely disgusting, laughing at my child’s answers, making cheap jibes and leaving him shell shocked and demoralised. It takes a lot of time to help him get over this … and I am also forced to blow the strict food budget on an emergency recovery take-away!
So financial ups and downs but, with a week to go, I think I might just scrape it, which is a great start to a year of saving.
Buying a nice item for the foodbank as part of my weekly shop
This one is a big tick. I love deciding what to buy each week. Plus, as I add my offerings to the crammed foodbank crate, it a gloriousreminder that there are a lot of kind folk in this world and that together our small acts do combine to make something of significance.
Running/walking at least a mile a day in January
Ughh … what a chore! I completed this challenge a few years ago and breezed through it, but looking back, that was a January in semi-lockdown, when working partially from home and having absolutely nothing to do with any evening made things a lot easier. Roll onto the busyness of 2024 and already I have given up on Wednesdays when late night meetings, grabbing food and dashing off to orchestra mean that I can’t even think about exercise until 10pm and … who wants to be lacing up their trainers at that hour?
Then there is the weather; dark and snowy. On two occasions, I narrowly avoid being run over by cars coming out of their drives without looking. On another icy evening I fall flat on my ‘posterior’ – ouch! And on slippy Saturday, grinding around the local woods with my run buddy, we are moving so slowly that she eventually starts walking and overtakes me, with a parody of the famous Harry Enfield jockey sketch , “Hello … how are you?” That run gets abandoned, as we collapse in laughter and decided tea and cake is a much better way to spend the morning.
Thank the Lord, there are only 9 more days to go
Taking part in Bloganuary
Last but by no means least. This is an utterly fabulous resolution! The daily prompt actually makes me enjoy waking up each morning, a creativity boost that even beats caffeine! (See my Bloganuary page for the full set of … pretty random thoughts!)
So, all in all, I think I am doing OK and in any case, it has all kept me so busy that I’ve scarcely had time to bemoan the misery of January this year. So here’s to resolutions…
Now I know that not everyone’s keen on the traditional New Year’s Resolutions but I happen to be a big fan! As a busy single mum, I actually find it quite luxurious to have 31 days out of the full 365 (this year 366!) when I routinely make time to focus on my own quests and challenges. And even more importantly, January is such a grim month that any kind of distraction is a welcome relief! So without any further ado, here I go!
Saving money: I found out last year that my Eldest child cannot apply for a maintenance loan for her fifth year at Medical School, because Student Finance only provide money for 4 years of any degree. Do not get me started on the injustice of this, for students from less affluent backgrounds and the sheer ridiculous notion that this will in any way help to address the UK’s doctor shortage … or we shall be here all day. It is an unavoidable reality and so I am aiming to save £400 per month for 8 months, as my contribution to bridging the gap between the £1 000 bursary that the NHS provide for the year and the £9 000-£10 000 that students usually live on. Could be a tough one in the midst of a cost of living crisis, but I’m throwing myself in at the deep end with direct debit to a savings account and … we’ll see how I fare!
Buying a nice item for the foodbank as part of my weekly shop: whenever you are feeling despondent about the state of the world, take a trip to your local supermarket! During December in particular, there were so many wonderful people in the foyer, raising money for the community and trying to make life a little bit better for everyone, that I was inspired to help in a small way too. So I started to add an extra purchase to my weekly shop and drop it into one of the food banks on the way out. And I am going to continue.
Running/walking at least a mile a day in January: this one marks a determined effort to limp back to fitness after having huge problems with my knee in 2023. Exercising daily does, however, place unusually high demands on my rather limited sportswear wardrobe. When Small boy complimented me upon my ‘cool retro’ leggings yesterday, I did have to confess that they looked vintage because they actually were! I was sporting a very old pair, dug out of the drawer, that I first bought in the 1990s!
Taking part in Bloganuary: at 6 days in, I am loving this one! The blogging community all respond to the same writing prompt each day throughout January, which I joined to give my writing a kickstart. It is very flexible and huge fun: sometime I write a couple of sentences, on other days I’ll write more. I have enjoyed the writing but the unexpected bonus is that I have discovered so many other great blogs along the way, such as My Tatty Sketchbook and Dan Loves Film.
And that’s me! All good so far, but I am only a week into the opening month of the year. Let’s see how I’m doing next weekend…
I scroll through the article with sceptical eyes. It has been such a grim 12 months for humanity, from conflicts and the cost of living crisis to chaotic government and what appears to be an ever-accelerating climate catastrophe, that good news is difficult to comprehend… let alone believe.
Indeed, in a year that witnessed more record-breaking temperatures, flash flooding and wild fires, a previous edition of the same newspaper reported scientists grimly heralding 2023 as a year in which ‘humanity exposed its inability to tackle climate crisis…’ And against this terrifying backdrop of visible destructive change, disappointment at the outcomes of COP 28 was so palpable that I couldn’t summons up the enthusiasm to write the annual blog about our attempts to ‘go a bit greener’ … until now!
The Guardian article is cautious and emphasises that the world is still years behind a schedule of true hope. Nonetheless, there is some optimism that “emissions from energy use may have peaked” which is an important milestone. And I don’t know about you, but I decide that I’ll take any green shoots on offer. Furthermore, I sit myself down, to take stock of our household eco-efforts this year. So come along … to the bathroom
I remain almost plastic free in the smallest room with soap for face, hands, body and hair. And to keep everything tidily in place and soap-scum free, I have discovered the fabulous Smol magnets, (these things are genius), plus a soap bag picked up at a Summer market in Edinburgh.
Fussy deodorants keeps me smelling fresh and waste packaging to a minimum. And you’ll also spot a new razor suckered to the shower wall, courtesy of my eldest daughter, who introduced the house to the wonderful world of Estrid Razors; believe me those things are built to last! The replacement blades are delivered via subscription service, so not only is it greener but also hugely convenient!
But wait, I did say ‘almost‘ plastic free! Alas, my quest to find a hair-conditioner bar is yet to meet with success and I have, for now, reverted to a plastic tub of conditioner to tame my curly locks. But, I search on!
Getting back to our home, I descend to the kitchen, where Smol is again my current company of choice, following a colleague’s recommendation. These days, I swerve the supermarket ‘household product’ aisle completely, as Smol post tabs for the dishwasher, clothes washer and cleaning sprays to my door. For me, these products do the job and managing delivery dates is so easy and flexible, that it feels like good value too.
And where better to finish than by the bin, with my recycling of ‘soft plastic’ at the local supermarket? This one was inspired last year by Jen Gale, ‘Zero waste mum’ who only puts her bin out once per year. The sustainable super star, motivated our rather more modest commitment to putting our grey bin (of non-recycling) out every 6 weeks instead of every 3. And we have managed it!
But have I made a difference? Well Smol, for one, tell me I have.
And I hope so, however small it, because, when despairing of our political leaders and energy companies, I find it helpful to switch them off, avoid the tendency to mope and moan and do something… do anything! In any case I shall carry on trying in 2024 and keep you posted but in the meantime, a very Happy New Year to all…
Smashing Single Parenthood 