holidays
School holidays. No making school lunches at 7am. The juggling game stills for a time and we all get to catch up on sleep and time with each other and the garden and the house.
While the sun shone, I set beer traps for the slugs. Favourite Handyman mowed the lawn and Brighid and I took Mary K (85 and in a rest home) out for a drive.
While the rain poured, I made laundry liquid. I helped Fionn empty his room of clutter (I think he calls most of it Lego) so that I could vacuum the entire wooden floor. Favourite Handyman put Fionn's posters up and now the room looks superb.
Yesterday we all went to the movie Kiwi Flyer. It was lovely. A perfect family movie in an old fashioned sense.
This morning I finished Skylark by Jenny Pattrick. I really enjoyed it, and I'm so pleased that someone has put part of the goldfields story to print, especially since I've still not written up the stories I think need telling yet. Now that I have five minutes to call my own, I think of writing again. But last holidays I was like this, and I can't even find any evidence that I wrote a single thing.
I'm thinking of sharing my ideas in draft written form directly on this blog, as a way of doing something which actually appears outside of my bedroom. So sometime soon, there will be some letters/diary entries from Eliza Mitchell, an unhappy housewife on the Mt Ida goldfields of the 1880s who puts the bottle in front of her paper and shares the stories of her world.
While the sun shone, I set beer traps for the slugs. Favourite Handyman mowed the lawn and Brighid and I took Mary K (85 and in a rest home) out for a drive.
While the rain poured, I made laundry liquid. I helped Fionn empty his room of clutter (I think he calls most of it Lego) so that I could vacuum the entire wooden floor. Favourite Handyman put Fionn's posters up and now the room looks superb.
Yesterday we all went to the movie Kiwi Flyer. It was lovely. A perfect family movie in an old fashioned sense.
This morning I finished Skylark by Jenny Pattrick. I really enjoyed it, and I'm so pleased that someone has put part of the goldfields story to print, especially since I've still not written up the stories I think need telling yet. Now that I have five minutes to call my own, I think of writing again. But last holidays I was like this, and I can't even find any evidence that I wrote a single thing.
I'm thinking of sharing my ideas in draft written form directly on this blog, as a way of doing something which actually appears outside of my bedroom. So sometime soon, there will be some letters/diary entries from Eliza Mitchell, an unhappy housewife on the Mt Ida goldfields of the 1880s who puts the bottle in front of her paper and shares the stories of her world.
Comments
Alas, I ahve to juggle my job along with school holidays, 'though fortunately my eldest is now old enough to be left in charge of the other two, which makes things a little easier.