How To Be An Adult ©, or Choose Your Brand of Loneliness and Live With It.

Sunday I finally looked in the mirror and conciously acknowledged my physical youth is now firmly in the past. Its hard to reconcile how I feel with the way people of my current age (37) appeared to me as a child. Grown-ups were powerful and free, or so I thought. I feel neither, and much more terrifying for the little girl still peeping out from behind a bookshelf deep inside me, the "grown-ups" who people my world are frequently far from mature, responsible or honourable. We are children still, only bigger and stronger and without the innocence which once protected us from much of the world's pain.

Maybe growing up is what happens when you look in the mirror and truly see yourself rather than the image you constructed to protect you from the pain of seeing something less than heroic. Or perhaps it is the lonely moment when you realise people who are important to you may never understand or accept some of your choices, and the only person who can validate them is you. Whatever else growing up may mean, a key part of it is probably just knowing your values and living them as honestly as you can in an imperfect world, because however hard that sometimes is and whatever it may on occasion cost you, its finally become much more painful to live with yourself if you don't.

So am I ready to grow up? I'll let you know.

Does it count as alcohol if its piping hot?

Mulled wine... Mmmmmm. Wish I'd waited until after I'd cooked dinner, though.

Growing old... its not for wimps

A wobbly start to the day saw my current charge (I earn my living as a live-in carer these days) slip and fall over in the shower... I've been there before, of course, but it never gets any less heartstopping. Fortunately, lovely Kitty is none the worse for wear barring a small bruise on her left knee and a large bumpy one on her right shin. The 85 year old has a will of steel - once she was safely sitting on the toilet wrapped up in towels, I had to sit down on the bathroom floor and breathe til my wobblies passed while she serenely encouraged me from her perch. Kitty has that amazing British resilience I've often observed in her generation of 2nd World War survivors and true to form just dusted herself off and is spending the rest of the day getting on with things. This follows a disastrous few days involving 2 (!) escaped catheters and a late night TIA with accompanying visit from emergency paramedics. And its not that she's forgotten all this - despite her severe cerebro vascular disease, so far the woman retains every one of her marbles. I've been here nearly 3 months and knowing her well enough now to be more aware of the fears she keeps firmly in their place, under the surface, only makes me admire her bravery more.

As the daughter of one of my other recent charges says, "Growing old... its certainly not for wimps."

Irresistable

Super(milkdelivery)man saves the day!

How amazing is our milkman? He turned up at lunch time, trudging manfully through the gods know how many inches of snow with our pints, and when I caught him placing them at the back door, he actually apologised for being late! He is my superhero of the day - hibernation is considerably less pleasurable without hot chocolate.

I wandered out to brush the inch thick layer of snow from the peanuts in the bird feeder (how on earth did it get in there?). The air was crisp and fresh, the snow all powdery gorgeousness under my slippers, and I briefly considered attempting a snow man this afternoon... Then I thought about making mince pies... I even gave serious consideration to the possibility of climbing under my duvet and tackling my astrology homework... Of course, what I did was settle down with a hot chocolate, courtesy of our intrepid milkman, to catch up on True Blood, Season 3 and wonder idly what their fake blood budget must be these days. They seem to be going through supertankers of the stuff this season.