Saturday, 30 November 2019

of equal partnerships and such musings...

A couple of days ago at the gym, we were 'deadlifting' on opposite sides of the room, when a young-ish man, doing something else painful, suddenly said to Alistair :
"Is she (me, that is) your wife? You wouldn't want to cross her when told to wash up" (or similar wording).
Having a voice of my own, and being quicker off the mark than Alistair, I replied that yes I am his wife and that I don't tell him to do anything - we have an equal partnership...

So I have been mulling over what makes an equal partnership?  I know it's easy for me to pontificate ( we are retired, active and 'run a loose ship'), but, for what it's worth, here are a few musings...

An equal partnership for us certainly doesn't mean rigidly dividing the must-do jobs down the middle and alternating them throughout the week (that there are seven days in the week has always seemed to me to militate against that!) 
There are certain jobs that one or other of us does better, and tend to continue to do...though we are working on initiating each other into the joys so we 'could manage alone' , one day. Some of these skills are inate, some are habitual...as I say we are working on them...

But we have been together for many, MANY years and my musings have led me to think that flexibility and, more than anything, kindness is the key...
He has hurt his heel, for example, so I am doing the majority of the dog-walking.
My back is dodgy, so he is wielding the vacuum cleaner.
I sit down in the late-afternoon, he has a burst of energy and goes cycling or swimming.

"Oh so easy for you," I hear you say! "What about those of us with two careers, three children and two dogs!?"
Been there, I promise you and, though I admit I wasn't in 'gainful employment' when our kids were young, anyone who knows us knows how hard our life was at that time.
And, again, kindness is honestly the key, kindness and consideration for each other's strengths and weaknesses, quirks and foibles...

In our very early days together, when we were young and starry-eyed, Alistair pointed out to me that the word "consideration" begins with "consider"...

Sunday, 24 November 2019

My Mitra Day...

The day started clear and bright...only it didn't, it was glum and grey as I walked Kitty (Evie was feeling sicky, I was nervous myself...).
My lovely Sis, who had gallantly promised to support me, was coming over by train for a day and a night...she only has to put a foot across the border for us to experience thunderstorms, floods, snow...
At 11, as I returned, she sent me a message to say the train was just leaving Shrewsbury, and, yep, down came the rain...

But it was only rain and didn't spoil a momentous day on which, in the company of three of my sangha-buddies, and in the presence of the Sangha and assorted friends, I made my offerings of a flower (there are a few calendula left in the garden), a candle (one of my tiny recycled ones) and an incense stick...do love a bit of ritual!
Lovely things were said by friends 'rejoicing in merit', which sounded like the qualities I loved and valued in my Mum and Dad (and made me a little teary), petals were strewn and bubbles were bubbled. There were unexpected gifts and cards. And cake.

In the evening we relaxed with his edited films of 1970s family holidays in Scotland, ate late and drank a bottle of good wine.
And then lit a fire and fell asleep over my favourite film...The Station Agent, since you asked...

Wednesday, 13 November 2019

All my hot water bottles are red...

and it has always been so. Yesterday, replacing a worn one (I am an 11 1/2 months of the year hot water bottle girl!), I dithered over the blue or the red before, as always, buying the red...Why?

More than half a century ago there was a very important general election and, a confused child, just beginning to take an interest in the outside world, I asked my Dad how he and Mum would vote. He explained carefully that democracy meant a secret ballot and what that meant. And then he winked and added that I only had to look at their new hot water bottles to know...his was blue - in those innocent pre-Thatcher days Dad was a tory voter. Mum's new bottle was red...
It took that poor confused child months to work out that there was no connection between party politics and the colour of your hot water bottle. But I have always bought red ones.

Tuesday, 12 November 2019

Recovery 2

And always the fire, 
deep in the winter's heartlands
Lighting the way home

Monday, 11 November 2019

Recovering Addict 1

It was suggested yesterday that I might blog my experience of recovering from my addiction to Facebook...so here it is, in haiku, the diary...

A fresh start and yet -
Anxious around the edges...
Bit like the weather...



Saturday, 9 November 2019

Small lives

Wrens, a pair today
Sun-lighting their busy lives
Unconcerned with mine