Don’t you remember those days when, as a child, you kicked around the house, moping and getting in everyone’s way because you just couldn’t think what to do? I soon learned not to express those particular sentiments to my mum – she had a habit of finding me something to do that wasn’t quite what I had in mind! “Nothing to do?” she would say. “I’ve got too much to do – I can soon find you something…” Then I would end up helping her with the cleaning or popping down to the local shops for a loaf of bread and somehow that didn’t help.
It’s a bit the same as an adult. It’s not that I don’t have anything to do but usually these down turns in mood and inclination follow a particularly busy period when tiredness sets in, positive feelings evaporate and the adrenaline starts to fail me. Normally, I would be out of the house at my temporary job or one of my many and varied volunteering exploits, but nobody needs my services today! I could, of course, write the Christmas cards; I could finish turning up that troublesome pair of bedroom curtains which are made of two flimsy layers and look great but are so, so difficult to sew; I could make a real effort and go down to the shed in search of paint brushes and a tin of Peach Blossom and carry on with the interminable job of painting the woodwork in our hall, stairs and landing: eight doors, door frames, skirting boards and banisters! But not today. Today I can’t summon up the energy or the inclination for any of that. I think I’m feeling lonely.
I think back to a period of my life when I lived in England – on a small island, in fact. The pace of life was slower then and it was in the delightful days when bringing up children was considered to be a worthwhile form of employment in its own right (whoops, I’m showing my age – oh well, why not? I am who I am!). I found it easy to make friends in those days. Waiting outside the school gates to pick up the kids, we struck up conversations and made friends. I had a number of good ones, all sharing the ups and downs of that particular lifestyle: life at home, to-ing and fro-ing with the children to school and to part-time jobs. There was plenty of time to socialise, as well as time to be ‘useful’. When that feeling of boredom struck there was a simple answer for me – go and see Jean!
Jean lived a ten minute walk away. She was a lovely simple soul – or at least that was how it seemed. She had a husband, five children and a gloriously messy house. I am not a messy person but I secretly envy people who are! I long to be able to begin a new task without clearing up after the first; to go to bed with my clothes strewn all over the floor instead of hung up neatly in the wardrobe; to smile happily at my unexpected guests even though I am in the middle of a frenzy of baking, whilst the dirt has been gathering in steadily growing dust balls under the dining room table, because I would always prefer to be cooking than cleaning. But I have been too well brought up! Jean worked hard but had a knack of being welcoming even when she was frantically busy. In addition to bringing up five children, one of them disabled, and the others at varying stages of adolescent exploration or childish tantrums, she made ends meet by baking and icing wedding cakes. On my days of boredom I would slope round to Jean’s house, simply for the pleasure of slouching in her kitchen, with my feet up and a mug of coffee in my hand and just ‘wasting time’! She baked; I made the coffee. She constructed fantastically complicated flowers, made out of icing sugar, and I watched. Eventually I got up and did something useful – like the washing up! But I loved going round to Jean’s home, just to do nothing except wile away a couple of hours nattering. We talked about everything: the weather, the children, the local schools, the local gossip, the other children’s mothers, plus all the spicier ‘taboo’ subjects such as sex, religion and money.
Wasting time is a crime nowadays. Everyone is busy. Job applications require you to fill in details of your past job history meticulously , ‘leaving no gaps’, and interview panels seem more likely today to ask you about what you didn’t do than what you did. I’m bored today. I’ve had enough of being busy. I’ve emailed all my friends and suggested getting together for coffee but they’re all busy. Today would be a good day for turning the clock back, I think, and going to visit Jean!
Maybe I’ll write her a Christmas card…
It’s a bit the same as an adult. It’s not that I don’t have anything to do but usually these down turns in mood and inclination follow a particularly busy period when tiredness sets in, positive feelings evaporate and the adrenaline starts to fail me. Normally, I would be out of the house at my temporary job or one of my many and varied volunteering exploits, but nobody needs my services today! I could, of course, write the Christmas cards; I could finish turning up that troublesome pair of bedroom curtains which are made of two flimsy layers and look great but are so, so difficult to sew; I could make a real effort and go down to the shed in search of paint brushes and a tin of Peach Blossom and carry on with the interminable job of painting the woodwork in our hall, stairs and landing: eight doors, door frames, skirting boards and banisters! But not today. Today I can’t summon up the energy or the inclination for any of that. I think I’m feeling lonely.
I think back to a period of my life when I lived in England – on a small island, in fact. The pace of life was slower then and it was in the delightful days when bringing up children was considered to be a worthwhile form of employment in its own right (whoops, I’m showing my age – oh well, why not? I am who I am!). I found it easy to make friends in those days. Waiting outside the school gates to pick up the kids, we struck up conversations and made friends. I had a number of good ones, all sharing the ups and downs of that particular lifestyle: life at home, to-ing and fro-ing with the children to school and to part-time jobs. There was plenty of time to socialise, as well as time to be ‘useful’. When that feeling of boredom struck there was a simple answer for me – go and see Jean!
Jean lived a ten minute walk away. She was a lovely simple soul – or at least that was how it seemed. She had a husband, five children and a gloriously messy house. I am not a messy person but I secretly envy people who are! I long to be able to begin a new task without clearing up after the first; to go to bed with my clothes strewn all over the floor instead of hung up neatly in the wardrobe; to smile happily at my unexpected guests even though I am in the middle of a frenzy of baking, whilst the dirt has been gathering in steadily growing dust balls under the dining room table, because I would always prefer to be cooking than cleaning. But I have been too well brought up! Jean worked hard but had a knack of being welcoming even when she was frantically busy. In addition to bringing up five children, one of them disabled, and the others at varying stages of adolescent exploration or childish tantrums, she made ends meet by baking and icing wedding cakes. On my days of boredom I would slope round to Jean’s house, simply for the pleasure of slouching in her kitchen, with my feet up and a mug of coffee in my hand and just ‘wasting time’! She baked; I made the coffee. She constructed fantastically complicated flowers, made out of icing sugar, and I watched. Eventually I got up and did something useful – like the washing up! But I loved going round to Jean’s home, just to do nothing except wile away a couple of hours nattering. We talked about everything: the weather, the children, the local schools, the local gossip, the other children’s mothers, plus all the spicier ‘taboo’ subjects such as sex, religion and money.
Wasting time is a crime nowadays. Everyone is busy. Job applications require you to fill in details of your past job history meticulously , ‘leaving no gaps’, and interview panels seem more likely today to ask you about what you didn’t do than what you did. I’m bored today. I’ve had enough of being busy. I’ve emailed all my friends and suggested getting together for coffee but they’re all busy. Today would be a good day for turning the clock back, I think, and going to visit Jean!
Maybe I’ll write her a Christmas card…
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