It’s taken us some time to re-equilibrate to our new circumstances. Like a death in the family, I guess, a big move away from a lifestyle of decades standing is quite an emotional shock.
You can prepare for it all you like, and in our case it’s been a year of thoughtful planning, but when it’s finally upon you, the actual ‘move,’ then it hits you. Wham! And suddenly, you’re ‘here’ but just where ‘here’ is, that’s what you’re not quite sure of anymore. Disorientation multiplied.
So I retreated into the space I know best, the workstation where I could find some calm and tranquility. My new Christmas chair keeps my back in good posture and shape. My three screens help to organise my work, and the printer/scanner is all ready for service. The zoom session yesterday evening with friendly writing pals helped too, to restore the sense of equilibrium I’d been seeking. Though my beloved will be pleased when, sometime in the near-future we hope, we carve out separate workspaces so that she doesn’t have to bear my loud chatting voice which the headphones tend to elicit.
We’ll hope to get out between the rain showers today on a little walk, a foray again through the village and back. We have to drop our new Medical Centre registration forms off, and then perhaps renew our acquaintance with the ancient woodland that had so seduced us from the moment we stepped into its mossy enclaves.
So our joy today has got to be the sense of ‘making the best of it’ — the best of the new lives we seem to be embarking upon. We think we’ve always been able to do that, perhaps too often to our chagrin as we settle for what’s convenient rather than pushing the style envelope. Maybe in our dotage we shall become more conscious of aesthetics, appearances, rather than making do with our utilitarian ethos.
Maybe, as Jenny Joseph warned, we shall wear purple with aplomb. Whatever we do, we’re resolved to make it the best that we can.