But it wasn’t the peace and quiet of
country living that soothed my soul, it was the total lack
of responsibility; the total lack of demands from sick relatives and daughters and
grand-daughters and needy neighbours.
My good friend reminds me that daughters
and grand-daughters help to ‘ground’ us, to
provide a focus in our lives - and aren’t we lucky. Yes we are, but right now I’d really rather be feckless and free.
I decide that
more ‘grown up’ time, detached from the younger generations, is the
answer. A neat compromise between the ultimate boredom of fecklessness and the serious
turn-off of potential martyrdom. ‘Grown up
time’ smacks of empowerment. It has a
decidedly optimistic flavour.
So how is this to be achieved?
 I ponder over the fact that if you fill up the
spaces, there’s only room for the cracks between. I wouldn’t wish to relegate my
family to the cracks of life but drastic measures are called for. I am, in the words of the song, ‘just a gal who cain’t say no’, when asked
to help out here or there with this grandchild or that.
Now for my
grand plan. For a start I’ve spread
it about that mornings will be spent working, and except in cases of life or death, are
sacrosanct. Working is, broadly speaking, my writing. But if it’s a beautiful sunny
day, work extends to long coffee breaks in the garden with a book – writers need to
read other writers and this activity can be classified as research. And anyway who is to
know what I get up to as there is an embargo on calling round. It is these minor forays
into fecklessness that keep me grounded.
Afternoons and evenings will be carved up
between family and friends; my patient and neglected
friends, and my family, who will learn to be patient about being neglected. Weekends are
up for grabs, and the boring bits like shopping and cooking and going to the dentist will
somehow get squeezed in somewhere. And just for me there will be one day off every week
when I’m unavailable and holed up in glorious isolation.
Pure fantasy
or an optimistic blueprint for living? If
I can become the ‘gal who can just say no’ - just occasionally for starters -
then it might just work. Watch this space.
Previous Diary entries:-
Diary of
a part-time pessimist 1
Diary of
a part-time pessimist 2
Diary of
a part-time pessimist 3
Diary of
a part-time pessimist 4
Diary of
a part-time pessimist 5
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