I love pot marigolds. So simple looking and yet so pretty. AGA says that they are called Calendula something-or-others but I prefer their country name: Marigold. Mary's gold. A fitting flower for Our Lady's patronage.
A few birds are still singing, despite the latest of the day. I am pretty sure that one is a robin bravely marking his territory with song.
The clock has struck 8 and usually at this time I would put the kettle on for a cup of tea.
Instead I am in a ruminative mood.
I am forty five years old and I can hardly believe it. Forty five. Encroyable (as the French might say).
Five years ago and I was a fine and upstanding Insurance Litigation 'expert' in Melbourne, Australia, where my parents had moved to some years ago. My 'bag' was claims over $1,000,000. My clients were international and my claims were world wide. Public and Private Liability. Major Malpractice. It was an exciting life - if insurance can be called exciting. Big money. Big Names. Investigation and evaluation. Court Hearing and Settlement Negotiations. Pushing and Jostling for position.
Then, I turned forty and thought: is this all there is?
AGA was going to go to Germany to work and I thought: 'Will I go too? Dare I?'
I told AGA and he decided for me. I would indeed go.
He is good like that.
Discussions with those in the know and suddenly I was going to take charge of a section of a school library. An 'aide' with an aide's salary. As opposed to fairly senior figure with a fairly senior salary. . .
It was going to be a bit different to my previous high flying job. . .
I told my mum and sister. And my grandmother. They didn't like it much. Pack in your great job? Earn next to nothing? And going to live in Germany of all places!
My Grandmother was shocked. In fact she screamed when I told her! Didn't I remember her stories of the Zeppelins in WWI? Yes I remembered but for me that was all historic memory. It did not sit fresh in my mind as lived history.
Not even the London Blitz was a lived history for me, and the relations who died in it are but people in old photographs, known only from stories and family recollections - as are the people who perpetrated those outrages that took their lives too soon.
It could not, must not, provide a barrier for me.
I decided that I was going.
There were a lot of Discussions of course.
My mother quizzing AGA and I on what we thought we were doing. 100s of questions. My sister frowned a lot. My Grandmother told me that my father would not have liked it. Privately I was not so sure about that: He had travelled on horse back from Mexico to Canada in the 1950s so I thought he would be all for it, and his father, while in his late teens, had travelled around China disguised as a native of that land (complete with fake pigtail and accompanied by his Chinese girlfriend) when the place was still closed to Europeans; so I am sure that my grand adventure was going to be rather tame by comparison.
AGA's father and brothers didn't like the plan either but we were not going to be moved.
There were tears at the airport and away we went.
Now here I am having worked in a school for four years - and loving it.
My mother and sister have both been here to visit and have shifted their opinion. They are happy for me. My mother intends to be here next Christmas and it is proving a convenient stopping off point for her journeys to and from England.
And now, to top it all off, I am about to undertake a University course in Librarianship.
When I was at school I wanted so much to be a Librarian - but it was not to be. My father took me to the university board and pleaded on my behalf (I had been ill during the exams and so had failed to pass my leaving certificate). They were sad for me but would not be moved.
That was over twenty five years ago and my father has been dead for fifteen of those years.
Now I am doing it. I am going to University.
On Saturday I board a plane and fly to Birmingham. I then pick up a hire car and meander through the Welsh countryside to Aberystwyth, there to attend the study school for one week prior to beginning my three year distance learning course.
In a way I am doing this course for my father as well as for me. He would have done well at University I think. History was his forté and I have inherited his library of wonderful books. I know that he would be pleased with what I am doing.
My family are thrilled and that is always pleasing. My Welsh cousins are wanting me to learn a bit of Welsh while I am there but I don't think I will learn much in seven days.
Mind you, I feel rather nervous. I hope it all works out. Study is not something I have done since my apprenticeship in the Insurance industry some twenty five years ago. . .
I am also feeling slightly ridiculous. I can't help it. A forty five year old University student. AGA tells me I won't be the oldest one doing this course but that doesn't help much. I still feel rather silly although I know that that in itself is the more ridiculous part of it.
'So what!' I hear you say. 25, 45, 55, even 95! It makes no difference and of course you are right. Once I get stuck into it I shall feel a lot better.
Actually my feelings of happiness at the thought of sinking even further into the world of books and information far outweighs the ridiculousness that sometimes creeps into my mind over my age.
How our life changes from one day to the next!
Anyway, that is what I have been thinking of this evening and as this is a blog I thought I would share it with you!
