Today’s assignment – Blogging 101 day 11:
– publish a post based on your own, personalized take on a blogging prompt.
I’m a couple of days behind in the Blogging 101 tasks, but who cares?
Although I will include a photo, I wanted to write about a season of my life.
A couple of months ago I had my sixtieth birthday. 60! How can I possibly be 60! A few years ago I was only 40 and having fun. Now I’m feeling really old and not having so much fun. OK, let’s stop being pessimistic, I’m having a different sort of fun. But I feel like I’m in the winter season of my life …..
This week I met up with an old friend, who was actually a teacher at a college when I also worked there, when I was 40. In those days, I always thought she was incredibly old. Some people just look old, don’t they? She was, and still is, quite eccentric, but looks exactly the same as she did back then. She didn’t care what people thought of her dress sense, she would wear strange footwear, odd hats, and often wore clashing colours to work ( pink blouse and orange cardigan was a classic). She used to wear real fur coats at work when it was frowned upon – the best one had a collar made out of an actual fox! It had the head, the snout, even some teeth, and a wonderful tail. The dead fox’s legs used to dangle at her side while she walked along. The students used to think it was either hilarious, or disgusting.
When we met up the other day, she told me her age. She was 76. That means that 20 years ago, when I was 40, she was only 56! Older than I am now. Oh my goodness, that really makes me feel old! I used to think she was really doddery and ancient when we worked together. Do people think that of me, now?
My hair has turned completely grey and I hate it. It’s curly too, which makes it worse. I look like how I remember my nanna when I was 10. Well dye it then, I hear you say. Well, that’s too expensive for an old woman like me, and I haven’t got the energy any more to keep doing it every couple of months. Who’s going to care if I dye my hair or not? I’m not out to impress anyone.
Five years ago, my new husband and I bought an old yacht, renovated it, and sailed to Greece. I didn’t have a care in the world, I could do what I pleased, go on adventures, no responsibilities. My three children were grown up, with partners and good jobs. They were pleased I had found happiness and was doing something I really wanted to do. Then BOOM! Grandchildren started arriving. The first two even arrived in the same week as each other! Then then next two arrived two years later, five months apart. From having no grandchildren and living on a boat in Greece, I was now a granny four times over, still living on a boat, but too far away and with severe pangs of homesickness and a deep longing to be near my offspring and their offspring.
Luckily my new husband (he’s not that new, he’s even older than me) was understanding, and for the last few years we have left the boat in Greece over the winter and come back to England and rented somewhere within easy reach of these precious grandchildren. I can indulge myself in these little people as much as I want. But in the back of my mind, I know that soon we will have to leave once again, and return to my floating nomadic life aboard our yacht.
So my season of being a granny will soon be over for this year. Let’s not be pessimistic, I keep saying to myself. Who can remember their granny when they were three years old or under? Not many people, I certainly can’t. Let’s be sensible and pragmatic about this. It’s me that misses them, not the other way round. My grandchildren are more likely to remember us doing things together when they are aged 5 onwards.
I’ll revise my earlier comment – I’ll say I’m in the Autumn of my life, not the winter. Hopefully when I reach my winter stage, I will be sat in a chair by the fire, cat on my lap, and grandchild playing around my feet……..