The nature of love

My son's gone away. My heart is heavy, weighing down my bones. Until he's home it won't be still. I told my son, if he hears a distant drumming, that's me thinking of him.

He's never gone away for two weeks before. It's never been that long. Sunday I'll wake up and for a moment will think he'll be back in the afternoon. I'll smile and know he's in my life. Smile away that aching feeling. It takes practice but I've had time to get used to it; a day at first, then two, three, four, seven. Fifteen days is a challenge but I know he'll have a fantastic time.

He's made me a card. On the back of the envelope he's written: "please open this when I am in Ireland." I'll open it on Sunday morning.

For now, there's only one thing for the way I'm feeling. Hampstead Heath. I'll go back to the spot I took him to this morning, I'll look out on the pond and the ducks and dragonflies who swim and swirl. Maybe I'll cry; empty all that I won't acknowledge, all that I can't express, all that I can't articulate, into the water. The ducks will drink it and sing - quack quack, quack quack.

My son lives in my heart - boom boom, boom boom.

I'm meeting friends tonight - boom boom, boom boom.

Boom boom, boom boom, boom boom, boom boom, boom boom....

What is Time?

It was so good to see Sinja, Tuesday night, yesterday. Yakkety yak, we just talked and talked. An old friend of hers who I didn't remember ("if I saw a photo I might!") had invited her to Canada and something very powerful had happened between them. With my recent experience with old shit school aquaintance, I knew what she was saying without her having to say it.

Yesterday as we hung over the balcony having a fag I remarked how our lives seemed to run on a parallel. Our boys have such similar interests and what with her and me and mental health problems past and present and being stigmums both, it was as though time had no bearing on how we'd get on.

Time! It's years you don't see anyone and it's as though no time has passed. You slide back in so easily. It's like that with the gals from school. Can be years and years before we see one another but in no time it feels like last week.

It's a warm, fuzzy, comforting kind of feeling. If you could bottle it, I'd drink it all day!

and the winner is.....

ME!!!!!

Next weekend I'm going to the Big Chill festival thanks to my friend Annie. It's fantastic, amazing, utterly, utterly brilliant as I'm going to miss my son, I turned down a lifetime trip to India and we'll be on our way just as I'm aching to see my boy again. It is going to be a blast! Bands, camping, great company come rain, sludge or shine! And for free!!! I've never been to the Big Chill before. Been to the bar in Kings Cross, not the festival in the Malvern Hills!!!

Annie sent an email on facebook a week or so ago saying she had a free plus one ticket, who wanted to go with her? If she had many takers she would put names into a hat. I wrote something daft like 'while the child's away the mamma can play! Put my name on coloured paper, everyone else's on white ho ho ho' and yesterday morning, as Sinja slept off her jetlag, I got the news!!!!!! Her email was headed: "and the winner is......" I was bouncing off the walls!

I have that to look forward to when my son leaves tomorrow and my son to look forward to when I come back. And my my my, it will be bloody glorious to leave London for a few days, hang out with her and her mates and Chill Big time!!

I feel blessed. I do! I do....

Excitement

Sinja's coming to London! Sinja's coming to London!
She'll be here soon! She'll be here sooooooooooooooooooon!!
Wa hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!

Beautiful friends I have

A couple of weeks ago, my old school friend called saying she's used up all her holiday this year, she's really busy at work, she knows I'll really miss my son when he goes to Ireland, so could she buy me a flight to Goa with her airmiles. She has tons, she told me.

Goa? GOA? INDIA???? I was gobsmacked. I was lost for words. I dreamt of my feet in the sand as waves lick my ankles, I dreamt of India. How incredible would that be?!!! To fly into Mumbai???!!!!!

I'm still gobsmacked to be honest. I'm not going to Goa though. She told me to let her know by last Friday. I er, didn't. Other friends think I'm crazy. I think I'm crazy which is why I didn't let her know but I do have to clear out this sess pit. I didn't let her know because how do you let someone know that you're saying no to a dream???? Oh go on, you think I'm crazy too - staying home to sort out my housing instead of a holiday break of a lifetime in a country I've fantasised about visiting. That's fine. I am.

What a beautiful beautiful gift from a beautiful beautiful friend. I don't have to go to thank her. The thought is the gift. Mwah mwah mwah I love you!!! xxx

My old old friend is coming to stay!!

She's on her way from Heathrow to mine as I post this!! She's just called to say she's landed!! It is amazing, unbelievable, magic!! I haven't seen her for, what, eight years??????!!!!!

I worked with her in Japan. When I travelled home overland I stopped off in Denmark to see her. I didn't see her again for years until work sent me to Copenhagen so I grabbed a couple of days holiday to hang out with her. She's a single mum like me now, neither of us can afford to go and see the other. A friend of hers bought her a ticket to Canada and she's on her way home, 24 hour stop over in London! Her son's not with her, which is a shame, as mine's with me and they're a year apart, but WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Can't wait to hug her!!!!

Can I meet Mr Healey?

I wrote and sent a letter to Dobbie today asking if I can join him and the tenants when he goes to meet the Housing Minister about the council property sell off's. I hand wrote it and sent it recorded delivery, like I used to years ago. Back then my letters were full of religious imagery as I was being evicted by the church. "I've no Joseph to help me carry my load." That kind of stuff, vaguely cringey but also amusing when I look back and read them now.

I did go to see him once at his surgery but he wasn't there. Glenda was. I introduced myself and she said: "Oh, you're the girl and the church." I was abit taken aback. She didn't help me though: "There's no waiting list in Sheffield you know." No I didn't but that's not helpful.

I met Dobbie later, at the opening of a community centre in Kentish Town. He did know who I was yesterday. Yes, I'm still around...

The letter didn't ask for help. He's taking tenants with him, I am not a tenant yet. I've waited years watching my son slip down the waiting list. "Wouldn't you also be interested in what he (Healey) says to me?"

I've asked him to please consider it. I've asked him to please say yes.

I really do want to know what the Housing Minister thinks of children. What the Housing Minister thinks of mine. I didn't get to interview him for the research we did for the council about safeguarding children. This is different though. I can direct questions about valuing children using my own as an example. There is no passion like personal experience. I'd also be with other angry people. I'd be with Dobbie. I quoted his words about sell off's in my letter: "Like you, I take it very personally. Very very personally."

Dobbie said "fight". I hope he says yes. I've no energy left on my own.