Bagpipe lessons

 

Not very many months ago, Andrew woke up from a good night's sleep and announced he needed to learn to play the bagpipes. Just like that.  So he did the research, found a group and asked if he could have a look.  Looking turned into wild enthusiasm, wild enthusiasm turned into the purchase of the required chanter, and the purchase turned into daily practice.  His only regret, he says, is that he didn't start sooner.

There comes a time when we all think that: I wish I had done something earlier in life.  For me, that wish is that I would have liked to write a moderately successful novel.  Nothing flashy - just a masterly crafted, well thought out, gripping tale of intrigue, grounded in a rich tapestry of well rounded characters' lives.   Luckily I don't take myself too seriously, and can chuckle at such grandiose ambitions.  I am happy to scribble stories into soft cover A5 notebooks which I chuck away when they are full. 

But the concept of You Are Never Too Old to Learn is an excellent one.  I remember the awe I felt when I was involved with adult literacy and I watched people who had been denied an education determinedly and patiently tackle letters and sounds until they could read. The age group ranged from thirty to eighty, and the stumbling blocks  (economics, home language, work and family responsibilities...) gigantic. But determination is a great empower-er, and that is worth remembering.

Being open to learning is perhaps one of life's greatest skills.  It requires a healthy sense of self, so we don't feel we  have to go around proving ourselves or always being right. Or always knowing.  I wish the education system taught the art of questioning in the curriculum.  I would have benefitted from that as a teenager. And as an adult.  

Some questions we need to ask are not just about how things work or gaining skills.  Some are about the why and wherefores of human behaviour. Starting with the self, of course.  I want to know where I fit in the world, and who I am in relation to you.

Andrew's bagpipe group spends time socializing after practice.  This give the experience a wholeness, I think, and this camaraderie is crucial to the learning process.  He is still on the chanter phase - the bags and pipes will follow in due course - and he can knock out quite a few recognisable tunes.  I am looking forward to following his progress, and will, I promise, post a photo when he reaches the full regalia stage.  I think a kilt will suit him.

As for me - well who knows.  maybe after a good night's sleep I will one day know exactly the plot of my unborn novel.  And I will need to write it. In the meantime I will make a list of all the other things I wish I had done earlier, and see how many of them I can tick off in the coming years.

 

  

Direction

 Landmarks give us direction.  I have been lucky enough to live my life using Table Mountain as my compass.  It is hard to get too lost in Cape Town - when in doubt, I can look up and see where I am in relation to the mountain's benevolent shadow, and I can breathe out.  I know where I am.

It is slightly more difficult here in south London.  It requires a lot more effort for me to determine which direction is north, and where (temporary) home is.

Andrew talking to our neighbour

  It is slightly out of my comfort zone.  Looking out of the bedroom window on the third floor, I can see horses grazing in the fields, and a wood beyond.  If I look up a bit more, I can also see the Shard, and that grounds me and gives me a sense of place.

We are living in someone else's home for December and January, and they in ours.  This house swap has been months in the planning.  It is an incredible opportunity to experience a different way of doing things for a bit. London is on our doorstep ( a 30 minute train ride) and beloved family are close by.  We can have lunch with our son during his lunch hour. 

On our way to lunch...

We can celebrate his turning 30 in Cambridge.  Our daughter has been to visit her cousin in Oxford.  We are making the most of creating special memories.  But we are also just living ordinary lives.  Andrew is working online.  We are catching up on sleep.  Sorting out the usual monthly admin. Watching TV.  There is less need to rush around using every precious minute like on previous visits because we have the luxury of time.

I have ambled through both the Tate, and the Tate Modern art galleries, soaking up the visual beauty.  We have been to Borough market a couple of time, and drank in the hustle and bustle and smells of the wonderful foods on offer.  And I have achieved a tick on a bucket list item (more about that in another blog.)

Getting around on public transport is not something I do at home.  The trains and buses  here are efficient and close by. The London underground however, confuses me direction wise.  That is where I fear getting lost the most.  There is absolutely no landmark in a tunnel to tell you where north is, or if you are going the right direction.  Thank goodness for apps that make me feel less disorientated.

Doing things differently is both exhilarating and challenging.  My sense of (self) direction has shifted this past year or so.  My landmarks have changed, and sometimes I gaze up and wonder where I am in my life.  Sometimes I get tunnel vision, and wonder if I am going the right direction.  There are two options that I can see - either create new landmarks to be my  Table Mountain, or just get on the tube and see what direction it takes me, knowing I can get off at the next station if  I want (so to speak.)  I haven't decided which option to take yet, or if I can combine the two.

In the meantime, happy travelling - at home or abroad- to you - and thank you for your company on the journey. 

En route to The Tate.  Cold and wet

Borough market on a quiet day!

London is beautiful at night.  It is dark by 4.30pm.  That takes quite a bit of getting used to!!

 

The Quantum Physics of identity

A while ago I met a stranger as I was plodding round a few blocks near home. He was walking his dogs in one direction, and I was doing the circuit the other way. At the second crossover, he stopped me and told me he could tell me a few things about myself. Intriguing, but I wasn’t born yesterday. In fact he asked me when I was born, as numbers and quantum physics combined is his Thing. I don’t see the correlation myself, but then again, I don’t stop random strangers on the street and offer insights into their lives. As I wasn’t in a rush it being a Sunday, I opted for politeness and told him my birth day and month. Not the year, of course.

 Sure enough his assessment was accurate - I am a nurturer, I like arty stuff, I am a very private person, I hold tension in my neck, I think about things, I need to put boundaries in place in my life. Same as you. And you. And your friends and family. People are happy to hear these generalizations because they are more or less flattering and more than a little vague. I couldn’t get him to part with the info of how quantum physics and my birth date had helped him with the assessment though. I did ask. That would have interested me more. He also told me I drive too fast, but safely. Ah no, not me. Specifics tripped him up, but I didn’t tell him. I smiled sweetly and plodded on.

 Truth be told, I looked him up when I got home. I may not be as talented as him with equating numbers to quantum physics, but I am a dab hand at a Google search. So it‘s safe to say I probably know more about him now than he knows about me. 

 Information is pretty public these days, and easily accessible. I have always had at the back of my mind the thought to write a novel about mistaken web identities and so have researched people with the same name as me. We are an interesting collection of women – we boast personal trainers, an actress, several CEOs, a marine biologist, estate agents, educational specialists and so many more diverse careers. It is interesting that that is how people define themselves – by how they earn money, rather than who they are. It bothers me a little bit, but that might just be because what I do doesn’t sound particularly glamorous. I am a Manager. It says so on my tax form. 

 We are all managers really. Everyone juggles needs, wants, abilities, necessities, to create a curated life that works for them. Sometimes I Manage better than other times; February is going better than January for example, as the hype of newness of the year and the rhythm of daily life has settled into familiar patterns.

 Last week I saw the same Strange Man quizzing another woman about her birth date, and I saw how she smiled sweetly at him as he told her, I assume, that she is an arty nurturer who overthinks and needs to hold less body tension. I wonder if she drives too fast too. I walked on. I had places to be. 

 

This is where I needed to be - on a Mother/Daughter getaway.  Bliss!