It’s been a winter of discontent for me. I think the reality of being in a strange land has hit home, especially with the deaths of people in my family, and the poignancy of losses elsewhere. I’ve been working, in paid employment, and while that has been nice for us (it pays for lessons – ballet, drama, piano, singing), it has sapped my energy. (The work itself was very, very enjoyable.) But today I taught my last tutorial for the semester, and for reasons (TM), I don’t intend to look for paid work again until next year, so for the next few months, I am quite at leisure, aside from the usual housewifery and caring for my beloved daughters.
I have also been somewhat, or indeed a lot, occupied by singing. I’m enjoying it so much. Perhaps it’s the sheer joy of finding something new to do. Or perhaps it’s the delight of finding that something that I thought I might be able to do really is something that I am capable of. NOT that I am the next Cecilia Bartoli (who is, in any case, a few months younger than me, so I would be hard put to be the next one). But I can sing, in tune, and in reasonable voice, over a reasonable range. (This is not false modesty: I really do have no more than a reasonable voice.) My teacher is urging me to sing in his end of year concert, but I am not sure of my abilities yet. I confessed to him that I was scared to do it, that I didn’t trust myself. He scoffed, loudly. “But you lecture at university,” he said, “to large groups of students.” Well yes, I thought, but that’s easy. Singing is altogether too new and too precious to me to venture it in front of an audience of strangers.
So between singing and discontent and the time taken up by work, I have not been in much of a mood to blog. I have plenty of ideas! But I lack the energy, and the time, to write about them. However, I’m hoping to get two posts up next week, one about “Re-imagining work”, and one where I admit that “Craig was right.” I’ll be saying that latter one very quietly indeed.
In the meantime, I’m off to Canberra for the weekend, to stay with a beloved, newly-single friend, and celebrate her birthday with her. I have had a winter of discontent; she has had the winter from hell. I am so looking forward to seeing her tomorrow, and to just being with her for a couple of days. She’s planning to make me walk up mountains (‘though in the old country we would call them hills). I’m sure it will be good for me.