Janey in July: Rude Rhymes and Poking Tongues

I can’t believe we’re over halfway through the year now, and once again I’ve still got decs from Christmas lurking around!

Terribly bad luck I know, but because I’ve only been in this new flat for six weeks it’s still a bit chaotic. Blessedly, the last Amazon delivery arrives today and I can stop hiding away on dustbin day, feeling huge guilt that the lovely chaps are hauling off more of my packaging.

woman biking

I’ve rather enjoyed furnishing my new home, although there have been a few disaster purchases. The chest of drawers… can’t think what I was thinking, plus the curtains. Those were meant to be three identical pairs, but separate sets appeared – and just the first one was a gigantic mistake! And it’s such a FAFF returning them!

When I was younger, I believed when I reached 60, life, and I would settle down.  I imagined I’d be sorted in a nice, easily maintainable house somewhere calm.  I’d be more relaxed, and happy to accept a more sedentary lifestyle.  I have seen this happen for friends and have envied them the peace they happily embrace.

When I found out I had MS on some levels I felt relieved, not that I had it, but that it never really kicked in until I was mid-60.  Also that – due to among other things such as fatigue – I would probably be happy to be staying in more, and wouldn’t miss the good fun times so much.

“I would immediately turn grey and forget the way to be me”

It appears true though that a Leopard doesn’t change it’s spots, as, despite all the things I want to want,  I don’t appear to ACTUALLY want them. Not enough to change my ways to make them happen at least.

I am more tired – that’s true, but instead of kicking back with a blanket I kick against it, which is exhausting in itself.  I just can’t sit back and think ‘well that last sixty odd years were a ball but bring on the next, gentler stage’.

I still want to be ‘out there’ – which in many ways is a pain in the backside, not least for my long-suffering family, who haven’t yet quite plucked up the courage to encourage me to wear hearing aids rather than pretending not to notice me constantly squinting at them saying ‘sorry?’.

(me enjoying another quiet night at home with my pipe and slippers)

I fear that if I settled into a solitary old age in a tiny country village with lots of well-meaning neighbours, I would immediately turn grey and forget the way to be me. I don’t want to be ‘good’ at being older.  I want to teach my grandchildren rude rhymes and how to poke their tongues out.

Once the novelty of attending village fetes wears off, I will inevitably start being irritated by my country neighbours and get drummed out of the village – which will give me huge pleasure – which let’s face it, is a bit weird! And I’m good with that!

So, in trying to find a suitable alternative to what I desire to want – but know I’d hate, I discovered this heavenly little flat right in the centre of Fulham.  Near enough to my kids to see them on a daily basis, and be a real pain in the neck – but with a very beautiful garden where I can potter and contemplate growing tomatoes.

This is of course never going to happen – but the intention is all I need to convince myself I have changed my ways, and am embracing a gentler lifestyle.

Sometimes the intention is all we need. The intention to begin the diet on Monday.  Enrol for the gym – learn that ‘other’ language – recognise the fact that sometimes we should accept help without thinking it’s a slight on our abilities.

Most of all I think we should stop thinking the grass is always greener next door and working out a way to have more of what we think we want when the probable reality is that what we are and have right now are actually pretty ideal.

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