I feel as if 2010 has really been a topsy turvy year so far. The joyous arrival of Florence and becoming a grandmother is, of course, so marvellous and wonderful and I simply cannot get over my total besottedness with this tiny little baby. Then my lovely mother died, as you know, and am finding this very difficult to come to terms with. Then in two weeks time, Kathryn, is off to Australia and will be gone for a minimum of four years. So a lot to contend with and my ups and downs have been reflected in Random.
I am off to the station in a bit to collect Kathryn who is now in Colchester for two weeks before flying off to Sydney. She is finding it all very emotional saying goodbye to her friends and colleagues in Leeds, where she has lived and worked for fourteen years, and now has the leave taking amongst her family to face. It is going to be hard and I am going to miss her quite appallingly, but parents cannot hold their children back and I have always tried to be a supportive and loving mother who wants the best for her children and who has encouraged them to fulfill their talents and abilities. A stiff upper lip is going to be called for and it is likely that Random will be sporadic again for a week or two. I am almost looking forward to Kathryn's departure and it is done with so that I can sit and be quiet and sort myself out and try and get back to my routine as I very much dislike being at the mercy of events. Just call me a control freak....
Every time Kathryn stays with me, she ends up sneezing and snuffling and eyes swell and go red and we
have come to the conclusion that it must have something to do with all my books and the dust they inevitably attract. Regular Randomites know full well that I loathe housework and will do anything to avoid it. I don't live in dirt and squalor, I keep my flat clean and my kitchen and bathroom are spotless, but I am not a fan of hoovering and dusting and, while I may have built up an immunity to my own personal dust mites, Kathryn has not. So on Sunday I spent most of the day taking my books off their shelves, dusting and cleaning them and wiping down surfaces and re-shelving. This was very good for me as it made me tidy up said volumes and rearrange and generally have a sort out. I ended up with a pile of books to go to charity shops etc as I was quite ruthless and cleared out those which (a) I bought ages ago, never read and know I never will (b) have read and know I will never read again and (c) duplicates of which I had quite a few.
By the evening all was neat and tidy, boxes of discarded books neatly tucked away in a corner until I can deliver them to my chosen charity, other boxes with review copies in which I sort out and pass on to those fellow readers and friends I think would like them and all was gemutlich. Today, I got the hoover out. Yes, I know but mothers make these sacrifices for their children and I could not have Kathryn hacking and coughing away while she was with me. Hauled it out of the cupboard in which it dwells, dusted it and off I went. I went through the flat like a dose of salts loathing every single moment. If I was not careful the blasted thing attached itself to curtains and rugs and attempted to suck them up and it was determined to trip me up as often as it could manage as I turned and twisted under the beds and round the cupboards, getting into corners and behind furniture. By the time I finished hauling it around I was hot and tired and in a thoroughly bad temper. I don't mind dusting, or cleaning out the sink or even ironing but hoovering really drives me mad.
Still, it is done and the flat is now as dust free as it can possibly be. I remember years ago seeing Quentin Crisp being interviewed on the TV. He lived in a tiny flat in total squalor and said he never dusted because 'after five years nobody notices the difference'. This struck me at the time, and still does, as a comment of remarkable commonsense....
