A winter's tale

I had a really oddly emotional visit home to see my Dad on Sunday. I decided to reclaim a lovely little chest that my grandfather made for me (my Grandad took up carpentry in his old age. And he was amazingly good at it. As a result, I have a lot of lovely wooden furniture which I want to be family heirlooms). Whilst sorting it out, I came across a lot of papers which I'd just shoved in there when I was moving down south from Edinburgh. I found some old photos from my time as a camp counselor in America. I remember all of them as showing me looking very big and fat and ragged. It turns out that actually, I was a really cute and slightly pixie-like 20 year old, which was a fairly salutory lesson that sometimes one's perceptions of oneself really are nonsense. I found old letters from my schoolfriends, love letters from a boy I was seeing when I was 19, old birthday cards, old Christmas cards. Goodness, I miss letters. Old e mails aren't the same.

Most amazingly of all, I found the last letter that my mother wrote me. She wrote it two weeks before she died, to be given to me after her death.

I cried. A lot. I thought I'd lost it, and I was just overwhelmed to find it. I still am, I think. And I'm very glad I went home.

In other news, I've been busy getting my life sorted since I got back. I've sorted finances, talked to my temp agency, am being put forward for two jobs, have got my holdiay pay sorted, and, most amazingly of all, sorted the living room. Jez and I cleaned, moved furniture, put up pictures and reshelved books. I'm feeling a lot better for getting all that sorted. I even found the cable for my phone so I can upload a load of pictures I've taken over the last few months. Next step, the bedroom! I think I need more bookshelves.

I also need to put the Christmas tree up next. I'm feeling oddly energized. It seems as if my holiday was good for me.

A winter's tale

I had a really oddly emotional visit home to see my Dad on Sunday. I decided to reclaim a lovely little chest that my grandfather made for me (my Grandad took up carpentry in his old age. And he was amazingly good at it. As a result, I have a lot of lovely wooden furniture which I want to be family heirlooms). Whilst sorting it out, I came across a lot of papers which I'd just shoved in there when I was moving down south from Edinburgh. I found some old photos from my time as a camp counselor in America. I remember all of them as showing me looking very big and fat and ragged. It turns out that actually, I was a really cute and slightly pixie-like 20 year old, which was a fairly salutory lesson that sometimes one's perceptions of oneself really are nonsense. I found old letters from my schoolfriends, love letters from a boy I was seeing when I was 19, old birthday cards, old Christmas cards. Goodness, I miss letters. Old e mails aren't the same.

Most amazingly of all, I found the last letter that my mother wrote me. She wrote it two weeks before she died, to be given to me after her death.

I cried. A lot. I thought I'd lost it, and I was just overwhelmed to find it. I still am, I think. And I'm very glad I went home.

In other news, I've been busy getting my life sorted since I got back. I've sorted finances, talked to my temp agency, am being put forward for two jobs, have got my holdiay pay sorted, and, most amazingly of all, sorted the living room. Jez and I cleaned, moved furniture, put up pictures and reshelved books. I'm feeling a lot better for getting all that sorted. I even found the cable for my phone so I can upload a load of pictures I've taken over the last few months. Next step, the bedroom! I think I need more bookshelves.

I also need to put the Christmas tree up next. I'm feeling oddly energized. It seems as if my holiday was good for me.