A slower pace of life. Places I hadn’t found time to get to before (this is Denny Abbey). New groups, new people. A whole new world.
December Reflections 16: I said hello to…
Author: kathleenjowitt
December Reflections 15: cherished
Pa gave me this venerable pig on semi-permanent loan some time in the late 1990s, probably, and told me, “You must cherish him,” so I did, and then gave him back when I went to university, I should think, and then I reclaimed him last year.
I have a few of Pa’s old toys (for a war baby, he did extremely well). I’m still missing one of the Dutch dolls. I think Pa removed her from the dolls’ house to crew a steam engine, but where has she gone? I hope she’ll turn up as we continue to empty the house.
December Reflections 13 and 14
My favourite face is down there at the very edge of the photo. And this was a difficult day: I’d slipped getting out of the shower the day before, and bashed my knee such that moving around was incredibly painful. Four days stuck upstairs, and a whole week without leaving the house, as I remember. Hence why the baby gym was upstairs on the bed.
December Reflections 12: unexpected
The biggest landslide since I’ve been acquainted with the Isle of Wight. For me, all it meant was a different bus, as one of the other two roads out of Ventnor was blocked for other reasons, but it’s going to mean a lot of inconvenience and heartache for those for whom it’s closer to home.
December Reflections 11: midday moment
Actually about a quarter of an hour short, but who’s counting? This is island time. Taking a minute to look (well, squint) out over the Channel and explain to the baby that we were going to see her grandpa’s house. He would have thought she was wonderful.
December Reflections 10: biggest lesson of 2023
Ask for help. Accept help. (In this case, a hat – originally knitted for the baby’s cousin by his other granny – to replace the one that blew off half way down Ryde Pier. But the principle is more widely applicable.)
December Reflections 9: brings me comfort
Tea. Got to be tea.
December Reflections 8: best decision of 2023
I couldn’t immediately remember making any significant decisions, as opposed to just going with the flow, this year, but, thinking about it, there were a couple of major decisions whose results have integrated themselves so seamlessly into my life that it becomes clear that they were the right ones.
Choosing to give birth at the Rosie Birth Centre in Cambridge was one of those. Even then so much was down to things that were outside my control – what my body and the baby wanted to do, my fabulous always-had-my-back community midwife being on duty that night…
Maybe choosing to have a sweep on my due date helped nine days down the line, maybe it didn’t; activating airplane mode at eight days overdue was definitely a good idea. Anyway, I was in the right place with the right people, and it was lovely, and I still get a bit teary thinking about it now.
I’m sharing a picture of the Quentin Blake drawing in my room, although it isn’t entirely representative as in the event I didn’t have time to get into the pool, let alone look at the artwork. This motherhood lark is hard work, but my theory is that most people get something that goes irritatingly perfectly, and for me it was the birth itself.
December Reflections 7: paws
This box has now been removed, filled, taped up, and addressed, and will shortly be posted. Poor cat. I’m sure we’ll find her something else to sit on and scratch up.
December Reflections 6: best book of 2023
Haven’t been reading much lately so had to go back some months, but here’s one fiction book and one non-fiction.
“Hood” dates from before Emma Donoghue started writing historical fiction, but has become a period piece in its own right – a snapshot of the Irish lesbian scene thirty or forty years ago. Complicated, but generally likeable, characters, and a really convincing portrait of the intricacies and contradictions of grief.
“Winters in the World” is much more recent – in fact, probably the most recent book I read this year. I think it came out late 2022. It’s lovely – a slow journey through the seasons and festivals of the year as seen through early medieval literature. Some of the pieces quoted were familiar, from church or from my long ago Eng Lit degree, but most were new to me. Much more enjoyable and edifying (she tells herself sternly) than arguing online over whether some advertising gimmick invented in 1957 is a sekrit pagan survival. (I don’t actually argue, but I do waste time and emotional energy muttering to myself about it.)
Not pictured, because on my e-reader, Plain Bad Heroines (Emily m Danforth) and Bad To The Bone (Brian Waddington) – two slick, stylish, cynical novels with what I’d like to call a side of magical realism if only that didn’t sound so much like whimsy. Which they very much weren’t.
Kathleen Jowitt 