The sojourn to Wimbledon was lovely; so utterly British and proper. My main recollection: Pimms in glasses and beautiful blue hydrangeas in every flower pot. Ralph Lauren blazers worn by all of the linesmen and women; very dapper. We go again on Thursday for another onslaught of 'Corporate Entertainment' where the highest echelons of corporate wifery are required; pretty dresses and sparkling repartee...
Meanwhile on the home front, days of a more trying kind. Trying to be a good parent, a bastion of good advice and calmness. This has partially alluded me this week as Boo has veered from happy to sad to downright anxious about a school trip. Oh if only I could give her the life experience to see that she will grow from things that challenge her. When your kids have to do tough things it makes you question whether you should save them from their own anxieties. I run with the view that says 'she has to learn'. But my goodness, it's hard to stand by and know that you could take it all away by saying an emphatic 'you don't have to go.'
I turn to reading John Updike in times of trouble - I like his salty New England observations. Am I the only one who loves this writer? What is it? Currently reading 'The Witches of Eastwick'...
I mentioned I was seeing many-a-specialist in efforts to resolve the pain issue. So far it's been one step forward, two steps back. It's funny isn't it how many of the alternative therapies purport to 'fix you', yet it's unclear what actually delivers a fix. All I know is that the fix is not yet in my grasp and the pain persists. I do sometimes wonder...how
exactly did I get here? Did I loose my compass?
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