Confined

The carpet fitter is coming at some point today to fit some new stuff in the hall and landing and on the stairs. Ordinarily the husband would do it himself, but the stairs are that bit more tricky to get right - and more to the point - safe! So I am confined to barracks until the fitting is complete. As usual with tradesmen, there was no indication of any time slot -even whether it would be am or pm, so patience is the name of the game. And I'm bored already.

It will be nice when it's done, but really, I have no interest in soft furnishings, textures, colour schemes and the like. Our house is functional, not an aspirational statement. I spend little time fretting about how it looks or how it will appear to others. What I do care about is the life within its walls, and that that is what should be nurtured and tended. I don't think children particularly care about home decor, although the Bright-Eyed Boy once expressed an interest in 'modern' houses. All they need is a safe, warm, dry, food-filled bolt-hole to curl up in - not sea-grass on the floors and a Smeg fridge.

Incrementality and Jesus Saves

School holidays are actually progressing much more smoothly than last year. Looking back, I think I was feeling pretty tense about the whole PhD thing and the funding thereof. That all came to a nasty head during our week away when daughter #2 decided to let me know (by text) that I'd had a letter from the AHRC. Of course, then I had to know what it said, got her to read it and text me any news "I'm SO sorry...." she started. Great. I was massively disappointed, but couldn't let the others know how I felt, which was really difficult when we were confined in such close quarters. So I pretended I didn't really care, dismissing the whole issue as a mere inconvenience. When we returned home I found out that the scholarships had already been awarded in early June, so no luck there either. All this tension pretty much overshadowed the whole Summer from start to finish. I had the OU course to do, but all the time I was thinking beyond that to possible doctoral study, but couldn't feasibly do anything constructive towards it. I was very ill at ease and this manifested itself in many ways.

This year however I think that I am much more chilled. The children are that little bit older, a little less demanding and tempestuous and I have my 'bolt-hole' where I can go and write for a couple of hours. Plus I have a plan, which always makes me feel positive and cheerful. Everyday I commit to writing for at least a couple of hours - it doesn't matter what I write: even blogging is a useful authorial experience, and hones the compositional skills. Refinement can come later. In the evenings, I spend half an hour brushing up my basic German.

One of the things that I have learnt over the years is the value of small increments. Whatever needs to be done can be done in small chunks that barely impact at all. 'A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step' and all that. Just keep those steps coming and you'll get there remarkably quickly and with minimal effort. This is one of the really useful things that motherhood taught me: it's no good bewailing the lack of time you have when you have small children. Divide your day into 15 minute slots and allot an achievable task to one of those slots. I carried this philosophy through to later my university years: 15 minutes is quite long enough to memorise some vocab, or photostat an article, or source a book, or grab a coffee. Just don't approach life as a monolithic entity: break it down so you can see its constituent tasks, then tackle them one at a time. Don't get overwhelmed: be a serial do-er.

Our 20 pence Jesus bears testimony to the benefits of this approach. He is a garish 9" high pink flock covered plastic statuette, with a slot in his back for coins, bought (with an ironic wink) by daughter #2*. Every time I find a 20 pence piece in my purse I pop it in the slot: I have been doing so since last summer. Just before our trip away, I'm going to empty him out and cash the savings in for Euros. I anticipate there'll be about £40 sterling, enough to buy us a cheap lunch out on holiday. A salutary lesson in the incremental approach.

* she understands my deep fondness of Catholic imagery, even if she doesn't share it!

Moan moan moan....

The weather has been absolutely atrocious recently: persistant heavy drizzle. The children are climbing the walls and I'm not far behind them! Fortunately daughter #3's rowing sessions have provided a focus for many of the days that would otherwise pass in an amorphous blur. At least we've got out! Many acquaintances are feeling the pressure: we've all done the painting/pasting/baking thing to death over the years. Neither we or the kids can tolerate any more make-do-and-mend bargain basement amusement. Intelligent youngsters suck up mental stimulation like sponges, and they won't be fobbed off with substandard offerings. The local museums are dull and patronising even with a well-planned 'treasure hunt' element. Theatre and cinema fare is predictable and overrated, concerts rare and exhorbitant. And you can only read so much in one day! My heart goes out to 'staycationers', those poor fools who thought it would be ironic 'fun' in these economically straitened times to camp or hire a beach hut or stay put and have 'days out'. By the time you've paid the entrance fee and marched a family of four around a good old British attraction in the cold and rain, paid for a few hot drinks and some seriously overpriced slimy sandwiches (or worse than dull, brought your own), you might as well have bitten the bullet and got some cheapy last-minute foreign holiday deal. At least the weather or food actually can't be worse than here, nor the locals less welcoming, nor your teeth less gritted.

The Best is Yet to Come!

Well, I've spent quite a lot of time closeted in my 'satellite study' i.e. the tiny laptop desk adjacent the door in the main bedroom. It's been a real godsend and means that I can get some work done without being subjected to too much distraction. Daughter #3 seems really caught up in the whole rowing thing, opting (quite voluntarily) to go to the training sessions 3-4 times per week. This is a fantastic opportunity for her to become skilled in a sport that she is really enjoying, despite the fact that she capsized today and had to be assisted from the river by a couple of nearby fishermen (who assured they'd seen it all before). It seems to be a bit of an initiation thing - completely expected at some stage, and better now than in January! She is completely unphased by, and indeed a bit proud of, her bit of drama. It's a real commitment getting her there for the morning sessions, I have to be a bit strict about making sure she's out of bed, dressed and having a good breakfast before I take the dog for her walk. Still, we're all ready by nine am to drive to the rowing club where I drop her off, ensure that she's safely off up-river and make my way into the city centre. The weather hasn't been so great lately, so sitting on the riverbank with a book isn't an option at the moment. Plus I've got the Bright-Eyed Boy with me, who is eager to fritter his birthday money on stretchy chickens, mystery UFOs, magic 8-balls, Pokemon cards and the like. The Starbucks bill for his caramel 'frapuccini' has been astronomical since the schools broke up. Crusty French bread, pate and sliced tomatoes for lunch and then a quieter afternoon. Happily his football training recommences this weekend, so that should mean he feels a little less left out. Not too long until our trip away: I'm already anticipating the delicious arrival as the sun sets behind the sheer headland, hearing the house martins squealing as they dive over the olive groves and grape vines; the greeny-turquoise sea, the ancient sun-bleached bastion set with shaded linen clothed tables; perspiring rose wine bottles sitting in ice-coolers; hot silver sand; tiny cups of espresso; almond biscuits dipped in prosecco; the freshest of exotic fish on ice in the supermarket; sleepy afternoons swaying on the terrace swing-seat. Aaaah!! I can't wait!

Summer Hols (groan)

O Cripes! The school summer holidays commence as from Friday this week. As per usual, I am completely mentally unprepared for them. Our scheduled week away isn't for a little while yet, so I have the opportunity to spend some quality time with the children before then. NOT!!!! I shall no doubt find it just as exercising as I did last year, trying to amuse them on a pittance, stay sane and produce some quality written work to hand in before my next supervisory meeting in September. At least this year I don't have the OU Advanced Latin to keep up (the sooner they transfer ALL their courses to coincide with the academic year the better IMHO), although I suspect that the discipline of translating a little of the Aeneid book II kept me from losing the plot completely. Anyhow - I'd better face up to a number of weeks of utter chaos and madness. I can certainly see the merits of Summer Camp.

Sky Tours

The 'Sky' man is here at the moment, nailing a satellite dish to the external wall, so what with the drilling and banging and to-ing and fro-ing the atmosphere is not conducive to calm, rational or intellectual thought. I am ambivalent about the whole satellite TV thing and have no great desire to have x number of telly channels to go at. The bright-eyed boy however is beside himself with excitement and has been counting the days off until the installation. The husband too - a bit of a gadget enthusiast - seems to be Quite Keen on the whole thing (obviously, as he's the one who has arranged it all). I think that I see a satellite dish on the side of the house as a bit of a Mark of Shame ('here's a family who spend an unconscionable amount of time sat in front of the box'). There are very few programmes that I will put myself out to watch, or record, certainlyI NEVER watch films on the telly, or DVD as my attention span is too short and they're Not Real, are they? If anyone starts to relate the plot of a film to me, my eyes glaze over and I feel myself losing the will to live. Funnily enough, I DO enjoy going out to the small cinema in town, probably because it's rather lively and cool with its integral wine bar and bistro - it's a very pleasant social experience. I have to admit that it'll be nice to watch the more esoteric sports. and it has been a source of annoyance that the terrestrial channels have never shown the Giro d'Italia or the Tour of Spain. So we could watch the rest of the current Tour de France on Eurosport but as my husband says, Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin's commentary has been such a part of our summer lives for so long that to change now would feel like a betrayal. It was during the second week of the Tour ten years ago that the bright-eyed boy made it obvious that he was about to make his way into the world. Fortunately, we managed to watch the remainder of the highlights before whipping off into hospital. Within 48 hours we were back in front of the peloton, slack-jawed with babe in arms.

The Eye of Joy

On Wednesday we put the final touches to my AHRC nomination form. I can at last breathe a profound sigh of relief and think about the fact that I HAVE FUNDING FOR MY PhD STUDIES NEXT YEAR!!!!! I can hardly believe, after such a long time - this is the third consecutive year of applying - that I have finally been successful. I am enormously buoyed up by the whole thing and immensely grateful to all those people who have contributed their time, efforts and encouragement. I shall do my utmost to prove myself worthy of them and of the award. At last I will be able to immerse myself more fully into the academic life and feel that I am truly part of that community.

There is a part of me, however, that is very reluctant to rejoice too much: a little worm of caution gnaws at me telling me that the money isn't actually in the bank as yet, not to count my chickens etc.

This is where I appeal to that little-known 'Eye of Joy'. The 'Eye of Joy functions in much the same way as its better known talismanic cousin the 'Evil Eye'. Anyone who has been to the eastern Mediterranean cannot have failed to observe the dark blue and white symbols that are liberally on display, particularly on things like the prows of ships, or hanging from rear-view mirrors. They are to ward off the 'Evil Eye', a malevolent force that can invoked to bring misfortune to the unwary (I've got one hanging in my kitchen, brought back from Greece). Just as being unprepared can lay one open to the force of evil, so can overconfidence and the premature celebration of good luck. It is customary to receive good news with an acknowledgement that things can go awry, that events lie in God's hands and that he can withdraw a blessing as well as bestow it. The uttering of a brief apotropaic formula ensures that the expected good luck or anticipated event will materialise, and that the utterer's confidence is not misplaced. And that is what this last paragraph has hopefully ensured: that I shall receive my dosh!