A new season!  I love the Autumn… just a few leaves scattering the pavements and grassy verges, but it is a sign of the beauty to come, the mugginess of today turning to freshness and the need for a scarf.

 

A new term!  I love the Autumn term. New pencil cases, new shoes, new teachers and even new schools!

 

And I bet I wasn’t the only Mum driving away from school with the music loud and doing the celebration dance;  all children deposited, still alive, un-harmed and happy despite long summer break, the start of term just in the nick of time saving us all from boredom and breakdown!

 

And I bet I wasn’t the only Mum driving back to school, excited to hear about their first day, what they had for lunch, who was naughty and who was nice (my first questions to get them talking!), what they learnt and what can they teach me!  And then the school music playlist comes on and we sing and dance like loons and they throw their apple cores in to the hedgerows.

 

But I bet I may have been the only or one of the few Mums to get an exciting email today!  An email that left me squealing!  As if I wasn’t already on a high enough vibrational frequency,  it was an email that raised my frequency to an all new high!

 

As the days tick down..  T-12, what will happen to the ‘alisandwiches’?  12 days to decide…

 

A sunny Sunday afternoon, a northern market town, a band stand, a brass band, an ice cream van, a fair crowd of baby boomers, a few of them toe tapping along…  A peaceful scene.  The older generation just enjoying the tunes and the sun and the cornets.

 

Tranquil… until the Mortimer family free wheeled down the path in to the picture, shouting with delight at the wind in their hair;  that was until the little blond boys jumped in to the river, splashing and running and picked up stones to skim, barely missing the ducks…

 

Their soggy trainers are now thudding and thumping in the tumble dryer.  Their new school trainers.  School which starts tomorrow…

 

I think we are all looking forward to it..  Willy had ants in his pants at tea time, dancing around before bedtime, his clothes laid out (there is a first time for everything). Tom is tying and retying his tie and as he gave me a big hug goodnight, he squeezed me and said ‘I can’t believe I am going to school tomorrow, I am so excited!’

 

And the Big Man, he is ready for an early night, ready for an early start.

 

And me? I have loved this summer.  It has been the first summer I haven’t been worried about how long the boys had off.  It has been the first summer I have embraced being ‘off’ since leaving my corporate job, without feeling guilty.  It has been the first summer I haven’t wished I was doing something else.

 

So part of me is sad as it is over.  But all good things come to an end.  And good things end so that better times can come along.  So  I am excited too!

 

I wonder if there is anyone still left at the bandstand?…

In the last 2 days, so much has happened; I have learnt so much, I have been broken and grown so much, I have danced so much my feet are raw, I have laughed until I almost peed my pants.

 

It’s only been 2 days since I saw the boys, but they all look different;  the Big Man more tanned than before, Willy blonder and more toothless, Tom taller and curlier…   the dog is even more annoying (in my usual love hate way with her) and the cat even more placid.

 

I have come home inspired for change.

 

After the turbulence of the first 6 months of this year and the calm, self healing, self indulgent last 2 months, I am ready. I am steady.  My foundations rebuilt and firm.

 

I have come home with my head so filled with reignited dreams, that no amount of crazy kids, a tired Big Man, piles of laundry, unpacked bags, dirty paws prints all over the kitchen floor, empty fridge and unmade beds can dull them.

 

So maybe this is another turning point in my story.

 

The quote that resonated with me today and keeps playing over and over in my mind is that you cannot die with your music inside you – whatever your ‘music’ may be.  As Les Brown says, how would you feel as you lay on your death bed with the ghosts of your dreams around you?

 

How would I feel if I let my dreams die with me?  Time is precious. Life is short.

 

My dream to have a family with husband and children is alive.  They are my daily purpose for living.

 

But I cannot die without writing a book, publishing a book and letting my ‘music’ out.  So I commit to keep following that dream and taking steps to make it happen, daily.

 

And I cannot die without helping others and making sure they don’t die with their music inside them.  Whether that be through the words I write or offering them a way, the time or the income that gives them the courage or means to pursue their purpose.  The same way that I was offered and chose to open and embrace.

 

I gave life to my dream of a family.  I will give life to all my dreams.  That is my purpose.

 

 

 

 

By my count I have 14 days left of this daily writing / blogging / public journaling..

 

I am a bit late tonight… 5 minutes late.  But I am not going to beat myself up – it is still going to be published before the end of my day, before I go to be, so in my book that counts.

 

Today – there have been so many signs, messages, reminders of my mumbo…

 

‘Always look after your skin, Boo, you only get one skin to live your whole life in, so use the best, start early’.    In 2013, I started my own business in health and wellness and the flagship range, best seller is the anti aging skincare range.  She would be proud.

 

‘Switzerland is quality.  All the best things come from Switzerland.’  She grew up in Switzerland, she benchmarked everything against it.  Arbonne has Swiss heritage intertwined in its core.   Everything it does, is and stands for is quality.  She would be so proud.

 

Tonight, I wore the dress she made, inspire by her role model, Princess Diana.

 

Tonight, I found a big feather Pom Pom and stuck it on my head and someone took a photo.

 

It made me cry – I looked like my Mumbo on her wedding day to my gorgeous Dad.

 

 

 

After 7 nights on a very soft mattress, lying next to the very Big Man, which meant I either lay in a big dip or had to hang a but cheek off the side of the mattress to find any firm area to lie in, I am so so so SO excited about being alone and having a bed all to myself to star fish in.

 

After 7 nights with the boys coming in and out to use our ensuite loo, I am so so so so looking forward to a night uninterrupted.

 

After 7 nights away with family, at the end of over 7 weeks of holiday, indulgence, travel, excitement, personal rule breaking, I am so so so relieved to be heading back to reality and routine.

 

After 7 minutes of staring at the blinking cursor, I think that it’s time to sleep.

 

 

 

3 well known sayings ring true tonight…

 

“All good things must come to an end”… So as the summer draws to a close today, so does our holiday.

 

And maybe that’s a good thing as the other phrase that I overhead someone say today rang  true… “All fish and guests start to go off after 3 days.”

 

The air of tension over breakfast this morning was like a hangover from the day before. Lingering.

 

The only way to get through any type of hangover in Cornwall, especially when raining is to hit the surf.  Distraction.  The cold seeping through the neck of your wetsuit and washing anything unwanted away through your toes.  The salt of the sea sticky on your lips, encouraging rehydration and the return of a smile.

 

So then the third saying – “feelings are like waves, you can’t stop them from coming, but you can choose which one to surf!”

 

Just like on a wave, you know when you are on a good one;  it is effortless, you are balanced, you glide, you smile and wave.  And just like when you are on a bad wave, you know you can jump off, dive under the wave and come up and wait for the next good one. It’s a choice.

 

I feel like we have all been on a few good and bad waves today, criss-crossing and causing rip tides and under currents.  Fortunately, no casualties and we are all now heading off to separate beaches….. and in a few months we will float back together on happy, positive white horses!

 

 

 

 

It’s getting to that point in the annual family holiday when it is almost time to go home…

 

The once full fridge is almost depleted, just a few half eaten sandwiches, a lone left cremated sausage, the odd apple and a hunk of cheese.

 

The close encounters and sharing of living space of 3 different families, despite being blood related, is just beginning to show with a few silent looks that says more than enough.

 

But we will fondly remember the sandy sarnies, soggy bottoms and dropped ice cream cones; the full breakfasts, scampi and chips and al fresco bbq’s;  trips on the shrimper, the speed boat, the tender and the kayak;  sand pits, sand holes, sand castles and moving camp multiple times to escape the incoming tides; daily ice creams to cool off, hot chocolates to warm up and ‘early doors’ just because we can…

 

We will drive back up the A30, M5 and M1 recounting stories of the new found secret bay with caves and crystal clear shallows, remind ourselves of how brave we were cruising in to the shore of 10ft waves and share how beautiful the sunset over the estuary was from a paddle board… especially with a Prosecco in our hands.

In the midst of another action packed, outdoorsy day on the sandbanks and swimming in the refreshingly clean high tides and in the midst of the cacophony of sons, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, parents and grandparents, I found myself alone and wandering.

 

And I was strangely drawn to my voicemail.  Strangely, because my voicemail is rubbish – it doesn’t seem to tell me when anyone has left me a message, so I have 100’s of unheard ones.

 

Maybe I thought I was going to clear them up?  But when I realised I had messages back until early 2014, I had this powerful instinct to listen to all the ones left by my Dad… in the hope of hearing my Mumbo’s voice.

 

For the last 3 years or so before she went into a home, Mumbo lost her confidence on the phone but she was always in the background; Dad was so good to always speak on speaker phone so she could hear everything and chip in if she wished.

 

There were many messages from Dad – as we tried to catch up on a Sunday, or wish us happy birthday / Easter / Christmas..

 

The first snippet of Mumbo was a giggle… quiet.  But it was there.  Dad was asking if we had survived Halloween ‘Wah ha ha!’.. And there she was…giggling like a little girl.   I listened to it a few times…It reminds me so much of my parents… Dad always making a joke, making us all laugh.

 

The only other was a short message from my Dad saying he was ringing to say ‘Hi!’..  and then my Mum brightly and cheerfully saying ‘Hi… Hi!  Hello!’…   And my heart did a little flip.  It was like I was just ringing her then… For a brief moment, I felt I could say ‘hi back’.

 

And then the voice of my Dad explaining I wasn’t there.. and her crestfallen… ‘oh… not there and the confusion and sadness in her voice’….  Heartbreaking.. I wish I had been there at that time for her… one of her possibly more lucid moments.  I hope I rang them back after that message..  I really do.

 

I deleted many messages today.  But I kept those 2.  Just so I can hear my Mumbo laugh again… and say ‘hi’ and have her say ‘hi’ back.

 

I wonder if that’s a weird thing to do?

 

Regardless, it feels comforting.  Weird or not.

 

 

 

Glass half full.

Glass half empty.

Glass needs filling.

 

I could have easily stayed in my ‘glass half empty’ state this morning.  When the sun is shining it feels far easier to shift to see the glass as half full.  But waking up with a pounding head with the continued blocked sinuses compounded by a fun evening with friends, limited sleep and grey drizzle hanging over the coast, I woke up crotchety.

 

Fortunately, I grew up with parents and married in to a family where half empty isn’t tolerated, or just simply not seen that way. More of an opportunity to fill up the glass with whatever you fancy to make it full again.

 

It was an opportunity for a lazy breakfast with fresh croissants and coffee.

 

It was an opportunity to get wet and wild in the rain and even wetter and wilder in the surf, an opportunity to blow away the cobwebs.

 

It was an opportunity to glide in on 10ft waves that make you feel like you are flying!

 

It was an opportunity to fill up and warm up on hot chocolate with marshmallows and flake toppings.

 

It was an opportunity to have lunch time snoozing.

 

It was an opportunity to wrap up warm, put up the wind breaks, dig holes, make water wells and walk home briskly.

 

It is an opportunity to eat early, watch a movie and feel good after filling up the glass with goodness.

 

This summer, our holidays and the newsreels has made me wonder at water. A complete paradox.
The ability to put out candle light and the energy source to generate power to create light. 
A source of so much fun and laughter. A

The source of equal tragedy and tears.
The trickling, tinkling, crystal sound of peace and tranquility. The raging and crashing of devastation. 
The harbour of life and death.. The ability to sustain life or take it.
The sea can lull you into a false sense of security with its inviting blue green coolness, gentle gurgling and lapping… Our boys are strong swimmers, confident on the body boards, but it seems that that no one is safe, whatever age, wherever you are. With the recent news of dangerous riptides and unusual currents, or just a freak occupancy, the sea is reminding us who is boss.
And I notice our less relaxed parenting this holiday to even just a month or so ago. Hawk eyed, both of us watching them in diving in the waves, playing by the shore, crabbing on the rocks, sailing on the boat, skimming rocks… 
The sea can be fierce. But so is parental love. While they are little, they are under our guard, our protection… 
My head noisy with worry for the future and my confident boys. Sea savvy boys. Independent teenagers. Who will watch over them then? 
I pray the lessons we teach them now, about the sea… And about life… That they heed them then, regardless of peer pressure, beer goggles and bravado.