Poppy checked in with us this week and has written a blog which may have particular relevance to some of the people moving on in September...what will be their constants I wonder...
There are many constants in my life, most of which are in Yorkshire, my parents being one of them. I know that no matter what I do, where I go or what I might learn some things will always stay the same. My father’s hatred for blunt knives, and his joking complaints when I ask if I can have another of his beers. My mother’s never faltering dedication to her work, and the way she falls asleep in front of the television because of it. The way our house looks like a dolls house all lit up at night, and the sound of the rain on the Velux windows in my bedroom.
Things change slightly: my brother grows taller and the dog gets slower and one day he’ll move out and she’ll die but the Aga will always be wonderfully warm, and the smell of the freshly mown lawn wont change.
I’ve been lucky enough to travel to lots of places and as much as I love to explore the world it’s still always lovely to come home. I’ve had some amazing experiences but in amongst there were moments when I wished I wasn’t doing it alone. But even in these moments I never felt lonely because I always knew that somewhere else on the very same Earth I was standing on were people who loved me. I knew that my mother was probably already napping in front of The West Wing (or saving bits for the next time she watches it – as she likes to say). I knew there was a safe place that offered warmth and security and that knowledge alone got me through, even when it felt like I was very, very far away.
Wherever I go I take with me the image of the glowing warmth of our life size dolls house, safe and sound in the hills of home. And when I return I am reminded once again of all my parents’ little idiosyncrasies that put me at ease and keep the knives sharp…
There are many constants in my life, most of which are in Yorkshire, my parents being one of them. I know that no matter what I do, where I go or what I might learn some things will always stay the same. My father’s hatred for blunt knives, and his joking complaints when I ask if I can have another of his beers. My mother’s never faltering dedication to her work, and the way she falls asleep in front of the television because of it. The way our house looks like a dolls house all lit up at night, and the sound of the rain on the Velux windows in my bedroom.
Things change slightly: my brother grows taller and the dog gets slower and one day he’ll move out and she’ll die but the Aga will always be wonderfully warm, and the smell of the freshly mown lawn wont change.
I’ve been lucky enough to travel to lots of places and as much as I love to explore the world it’s still always lovely to come home. I’ve had some amazing experiences but in amongst there were moments when I wished I wasn’t doing it alone. But even in these moments I never felt lonely because I always knew that somewhere else on the very same Earth I was standing on were people who loved me. I knew that my mother was probably already napping in front of The West Wing (or saving bits for the next time she watches it – as she likes to say). I knew there was a safe place that offered warmth and security and that knowledge alone got me through, even when it felt like I was very, very far away.
Wherever I go I take with me the image of the glowing warmth of our life size dolls house, safe and sound in the hills of home. And when I return I am reminded once again of all my parents’ little idiosyncrasies that put me at ease and keep the knives sharp…
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