Opening the Silk Purse

Happy 2015 folks!

I hope that this morning brings minimal hangovers and maximum peace to you all. If you were wondering how I got on, here it is:

Before I posted the previous entry, I was pretty much tuckered out after a day of charity shop perusing and catching up with dear friends. Once done, I hauled my tired caboose out to purchase my luxury NYE feast, but to do something I had had my heart set on doing first:

When I moved about 8.5 months ago, it took me a while to get used to having houses all around me again, having practically lived in the middle of a field for the few years before. I’m not a nosy neighbour, but it’s always nice to see other people getting on with their lives, and I was soon drawn to the family whose back garden backs on to mine. I noticed the lady of the house first, as she was wearing a dress identical to one of my favourites. She’s often to be seen watering the garden or doing housework, and I use the presence of her line-hung washing to determine if it’s worth putting mine out. The dad bonces around as dads do, reminding me (from a distance) of Terry Alderton. There’s a teenage son whose antics with his father have had me smiling frequently – water balloon fights, teasing, even their ice bucket challenge (that I missed by seconds dammit). Best of all, there is Doggy. A brown and white spaniel, probably a little on the senior side, who sits outside wagging his or her tail, so happy about everything. They’ve kept me company and they never knew it. And yes, I know it all sounds a bit Alfred Hitchcock/Jimmy Stewart, but it’s not like I  sit there for hours with a pair of bins! It’s mainly when I’m doing my yoga DVD in the spare room. M’lud.

Anyhow, on my way to the supermarket, I took a detour, armed with a small bag of homemade goodies and a card. It was easy to spot their house, using the mirror image of what I was used to seeing. I rang the doorbell, and within seconds, wearing that very same dress that had caught my eye months before, was Washing Lady. She listened patiently while I explained and luckily for me, she thought it was brilliant! Her hubby was in too, so I met the pair of them with an air of awe - almost like I was encountering celebrities that I’d only ever read about. I learned names including that of Doggy (who is a she), and sat in the lounge that I’ve seen glimpses of through their conservatory. It turns out that they had also noticed me in the summer. Not because of my laundry or minor garden antics, but because they’d heard me singing For Your Eyes Only at the top of my lungs with the window open! I apologised. It appears that from that she’d decided the lady in the house opposite (lady?!) was probably “someone theatrical” and I didn’t need to be sorry, for she had enjoyed the music.

(Phew)

(Though I’ll need to be a little more careful about this sort of thing in future. My next-door neighbour might be hearing impaired, but everyone else isn’t. And anyway, I do Diamonds are Forever much more convincingly.)  

Having kicked off my evening by making some new friends, I was too late for Lidl that had closed ten minutes before I got to it. Luckily Tesco was open for another forty-five, so I dragged a mini-trolley around there, picking up what I needed. If you want to see other lonely single people, a supermarket just before closing on New Year’s Eve is definitely the place to go. They’re easy to spot – no wedding ring, basket not trolley, full of beer and a ready meal. Poor devils.

Only the Lonely are found in Tesco just before it closes. Or are they?

Not I! For I was powering through til the bitter end, without tears. Or if not, I was going to bed. Whatever I felt. And you know what? My decision to stay cheerful worked. It bloody worked! Happiness IS a choice.

Though tired and not hungry, I made myself a “pizza” (Toppings on roasted aubergine slices, for a healthier less yukky post-pizza feeling) and scoffed the lot. The only alcohol that I was involved with was the budget voddy that I use to help the bowl of my ice cream maker to freeze. Pud was home-churned vanilla with a blob of salted caramel sauce. Bliss. 

Gluten-free and gorgeous

Happy New Year to me!

Tonight was the night for Inception (not conception, thank goodness. Though practice might have been fun…) so I whacked it on my laptop. What a film! Much to my irritation, I began to get dozy around my usual bedtime, so I decided to pause the movie, turn the lights out and just nap. If I shook it off, I might manage more later on.

My phone woke me after thirty minutes, and I stayed put for a bit, riffling through my thoughts with my fairy-lit window providing the atmos. Alas, thought-riffling isn’t conducive to a blub-free evening, so I stopped. I’d come this far, I wasn’t going to give up. A swift brush of the ‘pegs brought me to my senses, and I armed myself with my guitar and had a warble under my new colour-changing light (a festive gift from Sis #1)

(Not my finest, but fun. The whole thing is on my FB page if you wanted to see how it ends. And yes, my chops are baggy and they prefer more flattering lighting than this!) 

At 11.50pm, it was perfectly natural to don my coat and boots and drive Jeremy just a little way out to a spot where I could see it all. (Or at least a little more than a bit, plus some of Wales.) I didn’t need my watch. I stood by a farm gate in the darkness, and saw the New Year arrive in multiple firework displays. The air was cool but not cold. I breathed it in and did something that I haven’t done for several NYEs – I smiled.

No numbness, but a flickering flame of hope and excitement, the one that will never die in me. (It just might be hard to locate sometimes.) I wished those closest to me a Happy New Year by name, out loud. I sent a message to Last Year’s Lizzie telling her not to despair; that better things are to come though she’d have to be strong to get to them. Then I did the old Five Things exercise, off the top of my head, and came up with this:

Five Things I am Going to Do in 2015:

1)      Work hard

2)      Look after myself

3)      Love

4)      Music

5)      Keep smiling

I had already done them in abundance this evening. Start as you mean to go on! Number five took me all the way back to my car, my house and my bed, eyes so dry that my contacts were beginning to object. And well they might – not a single tear all night, my friends. Not a single tear. 

Now don’t get excited, but I’m hoping to keep this up – smaller bites yet more frequently are, I’m assured, easier to digest. How about I meet you here next Thursday? It's a date.

Will Lizzie manage to keep her word? Will the neighbours be closing their blinds from now on? Will Saturday’s Twelfth Night Party be a resounding success? The space you need to watch is this one…