Thursday, June 30, 2011
And the cats and I can sit around all day, snoozing.
Well, possibly the cats may do this more than I do. But still. Freedom. Ish.
Mind you, there's a minor snag. I found the other day that my purse was rather empty. "Oh dear," I said. "I don't have much money."
"Better get used to it, dear," said Mr Life.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Again, looking over the wall at the ducks, Canada geese and rabbits. They looked bigger to the naked eye.
Friday, June 24, 2011
One more week of work to go. It's a very very strange feeling.
I really liked Anon's comment the other day: this is exactly how I'd hope that my retirement goes. I'm a bit dubious, what with my mother being about to move in with us, my general weediness and my imminent grandmotherhood (though I'm delighted about this bit). Anyway, over to Anon. I shall stick this to the fridge or something.
This will be the time to grasp the "if only I had the time" opportunities. Approach it in a work-like way. Make lists of all those things you thought about doing. Do you still want to do them? Invest in yourself. The success will be down to how you approach it.
Like, I imagine, most women (and some men) I have spent my entire adult life not doing things I wanted to do because there were too many things that I felt I had to do. I wonder if Anon is a retired person who's actually managed to take her (his?) own advice, or if she/he (but I think it's a she) is gritting her teeth and waiting for retirement, determined to start living the life she wants to.
Now I must go up and spend the night at my mother's house, as I've done three times a week for the past four and a half years.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Mr Life points out where Randy fell in and had to be rescued. It's further down than it looks.
Monday, June 20, 2011
I overtook the young men and heard them conversing busily in their own language. I have to admit that I did wonder what they were discussing, so a little further down the path, I turned my head to see what they were doing.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
I had my very last class yesterday. I felt that there ought to have been streamers, flags, balloons. But in fact it was whimpery rather than bangy because in that class, most of them are actually finished, so that it was only the tail-end-Charlies who hadn't quite got their act together who needed to come. They came. They went. And, alone in the classroom, I looked out of the window at various students coming and going outside, young and with their lives before them, and thought... well, this is it. The End.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Here are various thoughts which have come to me at various points, not always in time for them to be useful.
1) The first concerns Virgil - Publius Vergilius, who wrote The Aeneid, which we studied in Latin at school. Our teacher, though perfectly nice, must have been the most boring person in Edinburgh. Possibly she still is, since looking back on it I suppose she was only in her 20s or early 30s, though I thought she was seriously middle-aged. Anyway, every night she gave us a passage of this poetic masterpiece (or as I thought of it then this deeply tedious tome) to prepare. Then in class the following day she would pick on someone and this someone would have to stand up and translate the relevant bit.
Not being a person who thought homework was a good use of her valuable time, I never opened the book at home, which inconvenienced me somewhat if Miss G chose me in class. I had to translate it off the top of my head, which didn't always work terribly well.
Many of my classmates were quite diligent and could make a slightly better stab at it than I could. But one girl, A, used to stand up and fluently spout forth. I was amazed that anyone would bother to work so hard. After all, we found out what it meant in the end anyway because the teacher always went over it.
It wasn't till years afterwards that it occurred to me that I could have gone to a shop and bought a translation. Then I could have "done" the homework in a fraction of the time and impressed poor Miss G.
Having had this thought, I did buy a translation and discovered to my amazement that The Aeneid was literature - something that Miss G had never communicated to us.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
As the pupils whose work I've been marking might say, I'm not sure whether I feel more "stagnatory" or "imaginatery" at this moment. A mixture of both, I think.
Must now go and pack up the last batch of scripts, note the code numbers and so on, fill in various forms and go and have a lovely warm bath.
Massive blog-catch-up starts tomorrow - though the garden is also in need of attention, not to say the house. Mr Life is a fine fellow but his tolerance of grot is higher than mine.
Tuesday, June 07, 2011
Eighteen scripts to go. I should re-enter the real world on Thursday.
Monday, June 06, 2011
* grosely ( I think the student meant a combination of "gross" and "grisly" - computer games can be grosely, he claimed.)
43 scripts to go. I must be sensicle and get on with them, no matter how frustranted I feel about it.
Saturday, June 04, 2011
Thank you for all your kind comments about the death of my aunt. It’s not as painful as losing a parent, especially since she had moderate dementia and for the last couple of weeks of her life was very ill. But because I’d had so much to do with her care over the past eighteen months, and because I was genuinely fond of her, her death gave me more of a jolt than I perhaps expected.
The time has flown by since then and yet paradoxically it seems surprising to think that she was alive only ten days ago. Her funeral on Thursday was lovely: a true celebration of her life and that of her late husband.
And I’m aware of that strange mixture of feelings that one has at such times. There’s relief that she’s been freed from that failing body and mind – she was such an energetic, practical and busy person, a doctor working for very little money in Pakistan and Afghanistan from 1951 to 1983. There’s sorrow for her and for all of us, that we must in time grow frail and die. There’s fear at what ten years can do: change us from that strong, busy person to a confused little bird in a bed with padded sides.
It’s beloved Daughter 2’s birthday today. She’s 30. Where does the time go? (As above.) She came up from London for the funeral and then her birthday weekend with her chap and her best friend - one of her bridesmaids. She had a wedding dress fitting today. And today Daughter 2 and her husband (about five weeks to go till the baby!) and Son and his lady are here. Lots of fun, food, bed-changing, washing up.
I will get back to reading and commenting on other people’s blogs in a few days. 89 papers to go, to be finished by Wednesday. Meanwhile, don’t do anything too exciting without me, will you?