Here we go then, into July and after WEEKS of rain, the sun has reappeared. Will it stay? Will it go? The nice thing about this is that we definitely cannot take this for granted, especially since it's the weekend and there is suddenly so much scope for outdoorsy things to take place. Everyone's stepping out looking warily at the sky, their bags packed with suspiciously concealed cardigans. Sunglasses are scarce - who would make such a bold statement?
My garden is mental. My sister's going to bring her mower round.
June saw my entire family plus boyfriends / girlfriends / husbands manage the feat of coordinating a week's holiday in the Isle of Wight. Exotic, I know. I counted the dog as my own plus one, and spent each morning running by the sea or on the downs, so I certainly didn't mind being the only lonely ride (just thought I'd get that in there)
It's interesting to see how you all bump along as adults. I've two sisters and a brother who each brought the other half. My favourite observation was upon the preponderance of fractious male passengers and 'rising above it' lady drivers. I'll make an exception here for my little sister's boyfriend of 5 years, who has earned this title most through being the world's most laid-back person. I noticed how the chaps all have a special noise for when they 'just don't think you're parking right'. There's the nose puff, the rapid inhalation, the shhhhhhhh, the oh, oh, oh, or my favourite, and my ex-boyfriend's special 'eeeaaeeeeee'
Come on, we're women drivers, not toddlers.
Speaking of the ex-boyfriend, I DID crawl back to him two years after breaking up with him. Well there hadn't been anyone else and he IS a special person and he WAS very good to me. I knew I needed the time out. If I hadn't we'd probably be married and contemplating divorce by now, as I wondered just what I'd missed. But no, I took the two years and thought I was over it for a while, but only now I realise that for the sheer guilt of how bad I'd made him feel, I was never going to be the first to move on.
He met a new girl in January. We'd texted a little since, friendly stuff, how's the family, oh good apart from the cancer and that. He sent me a text on holiday last month asking how I was. I was pretty excited, as I thought this was it, he'd realised she wasn't the one and was going to forgive me and give it a go again. No. no, no, no, no, no......
He's engaged.
After what, 6 months?
I said, 'Congratulations, I'm happy for you', and left it at that. Thank god you only have to have these conversations via text these days. It afforded me the privacy of being able to sob in peace amongst the strange stone garden ornaments of our Isle of Wight holiday home - have you ever tried having a broken heart with a garden gnome within three feet? You should try it. Anyway, he couldn't have chosen a better time, because you can't sulk on family holidays. At least not unless you're 14, which is pretty much ALL you do on family holidays.
So we continued to have a great week, celebrating both my parents turning 60, enjoying some normality before my sister's chemo started and generally not taking anything for granted, the way you do when everything is OK.
It's a strange, bittersweet feeling now. The cancer cast a shadow on us, made us all look at life as little more precious. We've all become a little bigger about things. How much the world seems to have changed in just 3 months. We cannot be wasteful with moments now - it's been a warning shot.
My brother and his girlfriend made it all the way from New York, which was grand, only after the miserable temperatures, Isle of Wight culinary options and general rain, I think she's probably anxious about her offer to move back over here with him. Hence I spent a lot of time applauding the modernity and convenience of London, in contrast.
Having done so, it rather made me realise I quite like London after all. OK, so the rent is abysmally high, everything smells a bit mouldy and you can never EVER seem to completely escape noise, but I too would feel that same anxiety as our New Yorker living anywhere else. Here there are 24 hour shops, trains that take you from one end to the other (on a good day) and more pubs, cafes, restaurants and shops than you could ever step in, more museums and parks than you could probably get round in a year of weekends.
I am a South East London dweller, as is my sister and her husband. When I see someone else is too, I feel a quiet sense of comradeship with them. It's like an inner nod: "Oh, you're from South East? Where? Ah, yes, I run near there" For the inhabitants of your Borough share your silent wisdom on the place, enjoy the same amenities, walk the same streets, and yet you never manage to bump into each other, which is the most wonderful thing. There seems to be something compulsive about distance in this city, where we all pile atop one another. In manner we are cool, our minds detached, until something from the outside threatens our city as a whole. In that we are one Londoner together.
I might be talking about the Olympics. I might be talking about 7/7. If I was talking about the riots I'd have to expand upon that theory, for in that case we were four Londoners: People who were angry about perceived injustice, angry people, bored people and finally, most people. Most people didn't riot. Especially in Tooting Bec, where I lived at the time. As our city was razed on those balmy summer nights, I ran down to the common to find dog walkers, canoodling couples and outdoor yoga enthusiasts unmoved by the unrest occurring just up the road. This is the strange combination of devastation and determination that springs out of such diverse and broad communities.
HAVING SAID ALL THAT....What I also like about South East London, is that it's very easy to get out of, and find you're in Kent.
At the weekends, I love a to race into the countryside, or check out a castle with my Australian friend and Olde England / castle enthusiast. I also love a trip into Bromley. A normal town centre with normal shops and normal people. Not an irregular amount of noise. Not an irregular amount of prettiness.
A university friend has moved to London and lives just up the road now. She's lived alone for years, having stayed back in Nottingham for another masters, science phd, living in the property her mother invested in up there. But I've noticed a change in her over recent months and it bothers me.
She is by far one of the cleverest people I know. Tall, blonde and bubbly, she can hold a conversation for hours and keep the energy going. She's just a fun person to be around, and yet her confidence seems to have plummeted and I'm not sure what to do about it.
When we met yesterday the first thing she did was apologise for leaving it so long. I think she's been sad and shutting herself away. We've all been there. She's got a job interview on Monday, but she says she probably won't get it. She's miserable at work (although she has a great job on paper) because she thinks not having the full phd means people won't consider her application for promotion. So she didn't apply! By the way, she would have finished the pHD, but she fell in love with her fucking supervisor who is frankly a complete dick. Anyway, she chose to leave. I cannot tell you what a waste this was. I'm not over-egging it when I say she is brilliantly clever. She was particularly brilliantly clever at that. He knew it too.
Anyway, not to get bogged down in the detail, I was astounded by her dedicated bias to a negative view of her life. I pointed out to her all the things she had going for her and she began to cry. At one point she said to me I had a really good life, and I had to point out that a) my sister has cancer and b) the man I wanted to marry is marrying someone else and c) I am pretty damn unhappy at work right now, but yes, apart from that IS a good life. But any good life has it's troubles. She doesn't seem to think anyone else has problems though. I don't think hearing anyone else's troubles makes her feel less alone.
A few months ago I tried to set her up with a friend but it didn't work out and they just left it, which was a shame. I don't really think she needs a man to make her feel better though. I don't really think I can make her feel better without a bit of willing on her own part. What I just don't get is how someone so smart can not see how much they have going for them.
And she is no exception. So many of my girlfriends are the same - held back by their own humility and inability to realise just how wonderful they are. It strikes me as a pretty valuable trick to have learned, that if you just go through the motions, if you force your body to do what your heart cannot, you'll follow in spirit soon enough.
The other day I had to demo something up with one of my broadcasting heroes. It was a terrifying moment and frankly I didn't want to do it. I wanted someone else to meet him, because a) they say you should never meet your heroes and b) I am always saying 'they say you should never meet your heroes' and c) there's probably a reason for that.
Anyway, it was pretty hilarious. I was terrified, but when he walked into the office I flipped into my usual fake confidence act, all big posh voice, smiles, eye-contact, briskness and handshakes. The great thing about this is that it's flawless to tell the difference on first meeting. People just think you're a confident person. Unfortunately, when you're being observed by a bunch of people who know you otherwise, it's just a tad embarrassing.
But my point is, if you act the part, generally you start feeling the part.
This was probably a bad story to wander onto, as I was just a little keyed-up and nervous over the whole thing to genuinely give the impression of uber-confidence. Plus, I think it might have been quite intimidating, because you always build your heroes up to be really invincible, don't you? So anyway, it was all very brisk, i did the demo, didn't tell him I was a fan or anything, tried to speak slowly and smile, and then when he left he got caught between a stepladder and door in the studio airlock and sort of had to winch himself out. I said bye and thank you a lot.
Not the best example.
Anyway, as for my friend. I'm going to drag her along to every bloody dull social event I can, just so she can see how crap everyone feels about their lives, and force her to get in the habit of bigging herself up and defining herself the way you have to do when you just meet people. It's scary, no doubt. It never stops being scary, but your friends always know you better, don't they. You have to rely on that.
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