Back In The Writers Seat
After a slightly long break, I'm hoping that life is beginning to return to normal - not that my life is ever normal or simple for that matter, but it's 'normal' for me. My eldest son has recently had spinal surgery and I did not realise just how stressful and anxious a time it would be. It's the strangest experience but for any parents out there who have had similar experiences or indeed who might be well acquainted with the winding corridors of hospitals with their humming lights and clinical odours and staff bustling in every direction in theatre greens or blues, then I do empathise, truly. I can still see the concerned dad outside of the paediatric intensive care unit, telling a hospital worker that his son was now off life support. That really struck me and I realised, not for the fist time, that my son was so lucky because he didn't require life support. He is recovering and we have a lot to be thankful for.
It's bizarre on the one hand for me to have been so emotional, after all it's not my first encounter. My son has a physical disability and so hospitals are almost our second home. We sometimes joke that we take day trips there. Still, when your child has to go for surgery and you have to leave them on a trolley outside of the anaesthetic room with other parents looking on because it will be their turn next to leave their child, it's very distressing. Fortunately, our son is very brave and grown up - well he is 16. Unfortunately for my husband, he had to go into the anaesthetic room with him because that's what our boy wanted (because he knew I'd probably cry). Still, the surgery was a success thanks to his brilliant surgeon. It certainly is times like these when one is so grateful to have NHS care here in the UK.
So, I'm back in the saddle as they say or perhaps I should say back in the writers chair and
I don't mind confessing that I'm finding it a little difficult in picking up where I left off. It's strange how certain events in life can so easily infiltrate your thoughts and create a lingering mist. Still, there's nothing like forcing yourself to sit in the hot seat and think and attempt to write something.
So, my writer's life at the moment makes me think of a former Cumbrian author, the renowned Beatrix Potter, who upon relocating here from London found herself living with mice and rats in her lovely old farmhouse, Hilltop, at Near Sawrey. The reason? It seems the local field mice think our old cottage here is a country hotel. I know we have mice up in the eaves as we often hear them, however, just lately we've had the odd one running around downstairs so I can only surmise that they have sneaked in through an open door. As I sit here writing this, one has escaped our clutches and is on the loose.
I recall reading about the life of Miss Potter and how she chased rats with a broom so every time we have a little visitor I always recall that tale along with her many beautiful books.
So, it's back to writing amidst the mice and the honking geese next door and the infamous Cumbrian drizzle. Hope you all have a productive week ahead.
It's bizarre on the one hand for me to have been so emotional, after all it's not my first encounter. My son has a physical disability and so hospitals are almost our second home. We sometimes joke that we take day trips there. Still, when your child has to go for surgery and you have to leave them on a trolley outside of the anaesthetic room with other parents looking on because it will be their turn next to leave their child, it's very distressing. Fortunately, our son is very brave and grown up - well he is 16. Unfortunately for my husband, he had to go into the anaesthetic room with him because that's what our boy wanted (because he knew I'd probably cry). Still, the surgery was a success thanks to his brilliant surgeon. It certainly is times like these when one is so grateful to have NHS care here in the UK.
So, I'm back in the saddle as they say or perhaps I should say back in the writers chair and
I don't mind confessing that I'm finding it a little difficult in picking up where I left off. It's strange how certain events in life can so easily infiltrate your thoughts and create a lingering mist. Still, there's nothing like forcing yourself to sit in the hot seat and think and attempt to write something.
So, my writer's life at the moment makes me think of a former Cumbrian author, the renowned Beatrix Potter, who upon relocating here from London found herself living with mice and rats in her lovely old farmhouse, Hilltop, at Near Sawrey. The reason? It seems the local field mice think our old cottage here is a country hotel. I know we have mice up in the eaves as we often hear them, however, just lately we've had the odd one running around downstairs so I can only surmise that they have sneaked in through an open door. As I sit here writing this, one has escaped our clutches and is on the loose.I recall reading about the life of Miss Potter and how she chased rats with a broom so every time we have a little visitor I always recall that tale along with her many beautiful books.
So, it's back to writing amidst the mice and the honking geese next door and the infamous Cumbrian drizzle. Hope you all have a productive week ahead.
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