Short and Sweet: Cheap Thrill #4

I love this space!

I am not easy to live with. My moods swing like a constant pendulum, and are as unpredictable as the weather in a British summer. I do not always appreciate the efforts that my family go to to support and understand me, particularly my husband.

For this reason, this week’s Cheap Thrill is a really silly episode that made me truly appreciate the man I married eight years ago.

I was sitting blogging (or maybe playing Candy Crush, not sure!) in our lovely conservatory. A bee buzzed in, and was attracted to my glorious, too good to use, Orla Kiely gardening tools. 

Too glorious to use!

Brain walked in, gently caught it, saying, ‘Come on silly bee. That’s not a flower.’ Carrying it outside, he then said, ‘Look, this is a flower. Off you go.’

'This is a flower...'

Talking to bees. I love him. That is all.

Differing Perceptions

Having taught children with special needs for more years than I care to remember, I have developed a highly attuned ‘ASD-dar’, which means that I can usually spot a person with autism at a hundred paces. I’m not sure what it is exactly, just a sense of their movement, body language and response to a situation or environment.

Lovely, lovely Kentwell Hall

Last week we visited Kentwell Hall, a large stately home that was holding a Tudor re-enactment. My stepson and his family take part, and we had a fascinating day. We had lunch in the Stables Cafe, and the minute we started to queue, I recognised the familiar scream of a child in distress. A boy, aged about 8 or 9, was clearly unhappy about the choice of food on offer. Of course, the more he screamed and kicked, the more the food eating public stared, and the more embarrassed his parents and sibling became. The staff were really helpful, and managed to find something that he would eat happily, but the intervening minutes were fraught with difficulty for his poor family. The fact that I understood their dilemma did not help them at all, but I did have a different perception of the situation from most of the other people around, which enabled me not to stare or grimace or tut. My husband questioned the wisdom of bringing a child with autism to such an event, but when we saw him later, he was happily munching Wotsits and enjoying looking at the piglets in the farmyard. If his parents had made the decision not to bring him along, he would have been robbed of that enriching experience.

The next day, I had a similar experience to those parents. I went out with my friend who is doing some holiday respite for one of the pupils in my class. (Okay, I know it’s not my class any more, but that’s still how I think of it!)

Listen Sam, the bamboo's rustling

We went for a walk in a country park and visited a local garden centre, on the promise of a cake and drink in the cafe.

Can you see the fish?

All was fine, but Sam does have a number of sensory processing difficulties, which mean that he occasionally shrieks, very loudly. In a country park and outside the garden centre this could almost be ignored, but it suddenly became very noticeable in the cafe, where people were trying to enjoy their lunch. My friend is adamant that she will not apologise for Sam’s behaviour - he has a perfect right to visit cafes and shops, regardless of his special needs. That being said, I was very conscious of his screeches echoing in the prefabricated building, and was willing him to be quiet. Disapproving looks abounded, and I could well imagine how his family would have felt in this situation.

Much as we love Sam, he is not our family, and we are therefore distanced from his behaviour in a way that his family can not be. In fact, if anything, I was inordinately proud of him. He coped with waiting until we had our food before he ate his cookie, he did not make a mess, and was even persuaded to keep his trousers on when he spilt water on them. Only just, but he did it!

So proud!

My point is that, because I know Sam, I knew how hard he'd worked to keep it together in a situation that he was less than comfortable with. The general public no doubt had a completely different view on his shrieking and trying to take his trousers off!

Parents and educators of young people with autism are desperate to raise awareness of what their different perspective on life means in the real world. I find it challenging to go into a restaurant that I am unfamiliar with, and I like to think I am a well rounded individual with above average social skills. Just imagine what it is like for someone who is unable to imagine and predict what somewhere is going to be like, without the adequate support to help them. It’s no wonder that children with autism present with challenges if they’ve been told that they're going to a cafe, but that cafe doesn't sell chips or pizza!

Every situation can be seen from a variety of viewpoints - the family who are mortified that not only have they not predicted this particular set of behaviours, they have also failed to prepare their child successfully; the public, who look on wishing that someone would deal with the screaming child, and wondering what on earth his parents are thinking of; and most importantly the child themselves, who is anxious and hungry but only really likes white bread and chips, when salad and quiche are all that is on offer.

People with autism need to learn to cope in the wider world. They need to be supported to face a variety of situations, some of which they will find anxiety inducing. This in turn is likely to lead to some form of challenge. If the boy at Kentwell had brought his own packed lunch, he would never learn to cope with the reality of preferred food not always being instantly available. If Sam does not experience going into cafes and shops, he will never get to practise a better way of dealing with his sensory needs than shrieking. This will not only limit his experiences, but also those of his family, who love and value him, and want to include him in as much as they can.

Bounce, Sam, bounce!

Be tolerant. Try not to judge. Don’t stare and tut. Just get on with your day, and have some empathy for others who are doing their best to cope in impossible situations. After all, if Sam can practise not shrieking and keeping his trousers on when they are wet, then you can practise thinking about how you can perceive what you are seeing from someone else’s point of view.   

A Proper Freebie! Cheap Thrill #3

Last weekend we enjoyed a proper freebie - a preview of the film ‘Captain Fantastic’ This was not, as you may think, a high action comic-based film, but a drama about a man who is bringing up his children in a most unconventional way, and their journey together when catastrophe happens. 

I’d read about this film and it was on my ‘must see’ list. I love indie films that are quirky and thought provoking, and this really appealed to me. I had literally just checked to see if it was on any time soon when I had a message from my daughter in Sheffield. She’d spotted a code for an intriguing film she thought I might like - Captain Fantastic…spooky!

I signed up to http://www.showfilmfirst.com , put in my code and booked two tickets for the Norwich showing. My daughter booked hers for Sheffield. Technically, it cost us the fuel to get to Norwich, but otherwise it was free. We just printed off our tickets and presented them at the cinema, getting our parking ticket validated at the same time. Genius!

I loved the film - it was all I had hoped for and more. My enjoyment was heightened because I knew that Beth was watching it at the same time - I looked forward to talking to her about it afterwards and discussing some of its key points…the thrilling bit of my Cheap Thrill. 

Sure enough, as we returned to the car my phone pinged with a message: ‘Did you enjoy? My favourite bit was the bit where he was naked at the bus door!’ Okay, maybe not the most salient observation she could have made, but I wasn't particularly surprised!!

In actual fact, the most thrilling part about the whole experience for me was, because it was a preview, there were no adverts, no trailers, no ‘buy your popcorn before its too late’- just the film. If that doesn't encourage you to sign up to http://www.showfilmfirst.com, then nothing will! The joy, oh the joy!

Getting my Ducks in a Row...

Having a career that is all consuming, mentally, physically and emotionally leaves very little space in life for anything else. When I made the decision that I was going to retire at the end of the school year in which I reached 60, I didn't really give this fact much thought. Other people did though. 

Everyone asked, ‘What are your plans?’; ‘What are you going to do?’ Initially I responded with a snort of derision and the comment,’I’ve been doing stuff every day of my working life, now I’m going to do nothing!’ 

Inside, though, I knew that even in my most inert sitting mode, I would eventually need something to challenge and motivate me. So I started to assemble hobbies. 

For Christmas last year I requested, and received a shiny new sewing machine. A camera followed for my birthday. I reacquainted myself with people from my old tennis club, and dusted down my running shoes. I also treated myself to a new bike, with a stylish helmet and my friends and colleagues presented me with some new gardening equipment when I left work. A positive smorgasbord of activities!

(It should be noted at this point that I haven't included reading in this list: reading is not a hobby, it is as important to me as eating and sleeping. I have a stack of books by my bed, and have a panic attack if there is not at least one new one to start when I’ve completed the current ‘read’. The novelty will be having time to read during the day!)

Watching the Olympics has distracted me from my new hobbies, but reading my friend and fellow blogger’s Wish List Wednesday (http://www.thesaltedtail.com) reminded me of a book that my daughter bought me to inspire me to make some of my own clothes.

With renewed inspiration, I chose the easiest looking item in the book and bought myself some fabric! So far, I have transferred the pattern onto tissue paper (a mission in itself) and am now awaiting delivery of my new left-handed scissors so I can progress further. I may, or may not write about the outcome at a later date, depending on what that outcome turns out to be - stylish gingham top, or lots of fabric to make gingham bunting. Watch this space!

Cheap Thrill #2

Appreciating the simple things in life is not easy if you're in a less than happy place. That being said, on Sunday afternoon my husband dragged, cajoled, persuaded me to stop ‘sitting’ and go for a walk around the village - only to the post box, not exactly a mammoth trek!

A lime tree - apparently

Just around the corner from our house is an enormous, what I now know to be, lime tree. I’ve never paid it much attention before - it’s just a chuffing big tree. But it seems this tree produces seeds, and these seeds fall onto the ground and dry out. 

Who knew they could provide so much fun!

And when they dry, they crunch. Oh how they crunch. It was like walking on a carpet of popcorn! I can not tell you how much pleasure this gave me…it was so much fun! I joyously jumped up and down like a loon, loving every minute! And my gloriously tolerant husband didn't criticise or mock, he just grinned like an idiot, thrilled to see me caught up in the moment.

It was immediately clear to me that this needed to be Cheap Thrill #2 - obviously cheap and thrilled me to bits! So much so that I fabricated an excuse to walk to the local shop yesterday, just so that I could enjoy all over again! 

Sunday afternoon shoes!

I appreciate that, if little things please little minds, then this would indicate that I am in possession of a seriously minuscule mind, but the joy, oh the joy! 

Depression Sucks!

Feeling Blue :-(

This has not been a good few days. Financial worries, a comment about what changes my successor has made to ‘my’ classroom and a throw away remark that my new funky hairdo must have been inspired by Clare Balding have all conspired to plummet me into a slough of despond. Writing that down makes it seem ridiculous, but depression pays no heed to ridiculous, and will get you anyway.

All my adult life, I have struggled to cope with my mental health. You’d think by now I’d be used to it. People show an amazing ability to cope with physical limitations: I suffered injuries to both my eyes while I was teaching, and while my vision will always be less than perfect, my brain has learned to compensate and it only affects me at a minimal level. But depression, not so much. I will never get used to the way that I can suddenly feel so desolate, when five minutes ago I was perfectly fine. I know that everyone has moments of sadness - nobody can be shiny and happy all the time - but depression is different. It is all pervading and gut wrenching. I have a dear friend who responds to this feeling by cleaning her house from top to bottom and throwing away anything that hasn't been used for a week. It has the opposite effect on me. I sit. That’s what I do. I’ve disguised this over the weekend by sitting and watching the Olympics, but really I’m just sitting!

An additional worry is that one of my ways of dealing with these feelings of blackness was throwing myself into my work. I couldn't just sit. I had to get up and get on with things. I also had friends at work that I could talk to - one who cleans and tidies and another who has supported her husband through some difficult times, and used some of her skills on me! These friends will no longer be across the corridor, there in the morning or at the end of every day. I know that if I got in touch with them, they would help me feel better, but people who just sit don't get in touch… It’s a vicious circle. I am lucky that I have a support network in my family, but I also know how much it pains them that I feel this way, and I hate making them feel powerless. Also, the good parent in me means that I want to protect my children from knowing how down I feel. They may be adults, but it’s still my job to protect them. See, vicious circle.

Past experience has taught me that I will feel better. I’ll find new routines to support and motivate me - even I can’t just sit forever - and writing this has been cathartic in a way. I may, however, have blown the ‘I don't want my children to know how I feel’ rule. 

As I’m writing this, my husband has brought me a coffee in my ‘I’M RETIRED, GO AND ASK SOMEONE ELSE’ mug. It seems I can still smile! 

Small moments of Joy

So, we have an appointment at the bank on Friday. I am no longer able to bury my head in the sand, and must face the fact that, come September, I will be significantly worse off financially. Bummer.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that I am very lucky to have retired relatively young, but my husband and I have had ‘the conversation’ and I appreciate that I will have to adapt my spending habits. Bummer.

All of this has set me thinking about how we reward ourselves and, when I was time poor and resource rich, my rewards were largely based on the material -  meals out, things for the house, shoes…so many shoes. I have also enjoyed treating my family and friends not only at Christmas and birthdays but at random times, just because I could. Now I will have to think a lot more carefully about it first. Bummer.

This being considered, I am going to have to appreciate things that are simpler and thriftier in nature. Bummer!

Seriously though, there must be many things we all do over the course of a week that cost nothing, and would reward us with a moment of joy if only we made the effort to notice them. So, in the interest of paying attention, now that I am time rich and resource poor, I introduce…

Cheap Thrills!

Each week I will aim to identify something that I have experienced or witnessed that has given me a moment’s joy. (Nothing salacious, I promise, and I won’t be using #cheapthrills) I will attempt to notice the things that cost me next to nothing, but please me nevertheless. Whilst this may encourage me to do more, I’m hoping that I also focus more on the things that are already happening, and take the time to savour them. My life has been so frenetic in the past several years, that I fear I may need lots of practice. Since I came up with this idea, I’ve been stumped for inspiration, so it may quickly become an annual posting!

Cheap Thrill #1

My daughter lives near Sheffield, but was home for a holiday last week. On Friday evening, we’d had a BBQ, consumed much gin, and were listening to music. As the evening wore on, we lit the lights and candles in our little garden shelter and sat talking as it got darker and darker.

We experimented with taking photographs of the flickering candles and tried to catch each other out with hideous close ups. Nothing spectacular for a Friday evening, but I was with people I loved, talking, laughing and sitting in the beautiful gazebo my husband and son built for me. Joy, pure joy!

A Wistful Longing...

Occasionally - usually, it has to be said, on what is known in our house as a ‘two bottle night’ - I can be heard singing along to my Jackie Album, at the top of my voice. David Cassidy, Donny Osmond and the, oh so gorgeous Alessi Brothers! Alcohol consumption clearly brings out the nostalgia in me. It should be noted that I still skip ‘Seasons in the Sun’ by Terry Jacks - far too depressing!

Nostalgia is a strange beast. I can be driving to work (oops, not any more!) or the shops and a song will be played on the radio that instantly takes me back to a place and time in the past - sometimes I’m shocked by how long ago it was, but I still experience a kind of wistful longing for a past experience. For me, music is usually the thing that prompts these feelings, although it can be a smell or a particular type of food - ham and new potatoes instantly returns me to our beach hut on Gorleston beach, in the sixties!

Yesterday morning I checked the local news to see that the iconic Regent Bowl in Great Yarmouth had been destroyed by an overnight fire. What is reported to have been the oldest working bowling alley in the country had literally disappeared in a considerable puff of smoke, along with neighbouring buildings and an indoor market. My instant reaction was shock, coupled with sadness. Fortunately nobody was injured, but even so, it felt like a tragedy on a grand scale. Great Yarmouth often gets a bad press, and relies heavily on its holiday trade. This fire is bound to impact massively over the rest of the season.

After the initial shock though, I felt waves of nostalgia for a venue that has been part of so many lives in the area. The bowling alley was brilliant. It felt as if it had been there forever, with its polished lanes and quirky features. Despite numerous ‘modernisations’ it still retained its character - the noise of the balls and the pins falling, the smell of the shoes (oh, the smell of the shoes) and the cheers of someone getting a strike. It was a goto activity on a rainy Sunday afternoon in the late seventies for me and my friends. All those Jackie songs playing in the background, making up rude names to put on the score sheets (no hi-tech scoring screens in those days), and laughing like drains when someone managed to fall over and slide down a lane. We thought we were good if  we scored anything over 80! Years later, I also enjoyed Regent Bowl as a family activity, and was always immensely proud that my two children spurned the bumpers, preferring to score an unaided 20 rather than a ‘vanity’ 100!

I am certain that I am not alone in my many happy memories of the Regent Bowl, and this post is dedicated to everyone else that feels that wistful longing over its passing. I sang out loud to Donny last night, just for you.

Searching for my Feet....

Well, the dust is beginning to settle. After the parties, flowers, balloons and the glorious trip to the Crown and Castle in Orford, that my husband treated me to, I'm feeling a bit lost. 

My daughter has just arrived home for a week, bringing me a box of lovely goodies to use in all my newly acquired free time, but I am simply unable to get my head around the fact that, should I decide to do nothing at all for the rest of my days, there is no-one that can tell me that I have to. Whilst I am sure that concerned family and friends would gently encourage me to engage in exciting activities, like washing, eating, getting out of bed, they do not have the power to sanction me with disciplinary proceedings, or by ultimately withdrawing my pension!

This means that from now on, I will have to be self-motivated and self-disciplined. Scary… this is not my forte!

Over the course of my career, I have worked with children with a range of special needs, which has  rewarded and challenged me in many ways. For the past three years, I have worked exclusively with children with severe autism, and my motivation came from the seemingly small breakthroughs that I supported them to make.  Motivation also came from the fact that if I wasn't organised and entertaining, me and my team would endure extremes of emotional and physical challenge - people with autism do not do disorganised and underprepared! We would all work interminably hard to provide an enriching learning environment and use our many skills to support the pupils that we came to care so much about. Now there is a vacuum, a void, a dirty great gaping hole where my life for the past 17 years was!

So, I will have to find new challenges, and motivate myself to actively pursue them. To be fair to myself, I have made a start - I’m on week 2 of the Couch to 5K programme, and played tennis last week. Writing a blog is new too, and I did make some bunting! I have purposely avoided signing up for anything that requires a regular time commitment, until I have found my feet. Ironically, my husband, who retired three years ago, has recently started to volunteer for two organisations. In recognition of this, I have started taking photos of his feet - he’s clearly found them, so they are worth recording! 

Technically of course, I am still on holiday, so I could continue to do what all good school staff do in their six week summer break - eat cake and drink gin. Don’t think I will need much motivation for that!

Is this the end? Or a new beginning....

It's a tiara!!!

So that’s it. I’ve  done it. After 39 years of teaching, I am officially retired. I know this to be true because my friends gave me a tiara with ‘Officially Retired’ on it!

At the moment I’m not exactly sure how I feel about it. I had a wonderful ‘send off’, some amazing gifts and many, many kind words both written and spoken about me. There was even a piece in the local paper.

Many of my cards and balloons (Yes, balloons!) said ‘Congratulations’ which struck me as odd. 

Congratulations, you’re too old to work

Congratulations, you've lived long enough to be too old to work

Congratulations, you’re a pensioner

Ugh. It’s the language I am struggling with. I thought I’d try to find an alternative, but if you look up ‘retired’ in the thesaurus, it gets worse: pensioners; OAPS; senior citizens; the elderly - the list goes on, but basically they all mean ‘old’!

People I know who are already retired, including my husband, insist that its marvellous, I will love it, and I will very soon wonder how I ever had time to work. Hopefully all those things will be true, but there’s no escaping the fact that, in the eyes of the world, I am old, even if 60 is the new 50, which in turn became the new 40! At this rate I’m heading for a second childhood!

As I’m writing this, I’m coming to realise that I actually have no choice in the matter - the only alternative to getting old is dying young, so, I choose to believe that my cards meant

Congratulations, you’ve escaped

Congratulations, you’re free

Congratulations, your life from now on will be one big adventure

So join me, as I journey into the Land of the Blue Rinse and attempt to redefine myself in terms other than my career and place of work. As I take on life’s new adventure…at this point I should probably mention that I am the world’s least adventurous person. Oh well, maybe I’ll prove that old dogs can learn new tricks!