Yesterday I had the most extraordinary day. I joined a group of Old Girls from my Old School and we all sang together at the Cadogan Hall in London. This was extraordinary for several reasons: the life I generally live is spent largely in the kitchen, or a series of rooms in our house. Within these walls I will be cleaning or, more likely, clearing up after the five other members of the family. Clearing Up is Very Very Boring. (I have already indicated how much I like Capital Letters. I shall Use Them a Lot in this posting)_
I dont think house wives should be called house wives. I think we should be called People Who Clear Everyone's else's Crap Away and Dont Get Paid For It. (PWCEECAADGP for short - catchy, eh?)
I spend the mornings before breakfast clearing away yesterday's mess in kitchen, bedrooms and sitting room, including loos and bathrooms. Then I make breakfast and clear that up. Then I clear up the mess made in the time between children getting up and going to school. Then I clear clothes from clothes basket in laundry room and put the first of five loads on. Then I try to clear my head with a nice cup of tea. I will clear the cat's litter tray and then think about what I need to do that day. Sometimes it seems almost impossible to work that out. How on earth do you decide to do something when you dont know what it is?
Should I get the week's food from our local supermarket? Should I do some much needed gardening? Should I do some work for the pre-school I run? Should I go and buy some wretched tights for my daughter who has torn the third pair she possesses? Should I ring my darling mother? Should I ring my friend who's mother has just died? Should I ring my friend who is doing a month's TEFL course and is hating every minute? Or my friend who has just had her appendix out?
All these things need doing. And do you know what? I think that this is going on in every single house hold in the country. We are all madly trying to work out what to do first and end up doing all the wrong things and then get cross that nothing ever gets done.
Well, to hell with it. I went singing yesterday. Like I said. We sang to an audience of six hundred. We sang two songs at the end of a gala evening in aid of my old school. I achieved nothing. I did nothing. I cleared nothing. But, bloody hell, I had fun! I laughed until I cried with my old class mates. We sang our guts out, quite well really, and felt such pride that we had had a go. As I stood there at the end with all the Old Girls, age ranging from sixties down to school leavers, I felt I had really Done Something. We all did.
Life really is about getting up and getting out. I won't think on my death bed, why didn't I clean that oven...
I will keep on clearing up. But I will also clear off.
In equal measure I think.
Watch this space.