I’ve been awake since 3am, I’ve been wearing the same flannelette pyjama pants for 3 days, my flat looks like a photograph bomb exploded on the living room floor and I’ve eaten versions of a cheese sandwich at every meal since 2014 began. Even so, I’m deliriously happy…and it is not only because I’ve watched Death at Pemberley six times since it screened in the UK and Matthew Rhys makes a damn fine Mr Darcy especially towards the end of episode three and Matthew Goode might be the most perfect Wickham ever and… yes, so anyway, deliriously happy.
The song after which this is named features in the film Despicable 2; if you haven’t watched it, you should, I did, several times, on the planes between Paris and Dubai and Sydney. Watching cartoons makes me happy; recently I’ve had the time to do that, time I didn’t have before. I introduced my niece to the Little Mermaid and I watched Toy Story a few more times than might be medically advised. Sapphire and Smack are fanatical for Woody and Jessie so I needed to scrub up on my quotes. “There’s a snake in my boot!”
I’ve had a lot of time recently.
Huge expanses of hours and days and weeks stretched out before me with no diary, no calendar, no appointments, no beeps from the phone; just wake up, throw on a linen dress (record was same dress for 5 days) and mooch about the world reflecting on my past, my present and of course my future.
Several days were spent in my Godparents’ backyard sorting through the contents of twelve boxes that represented my life until I left Sydney. Love letters spanned two decades covering passionate missives written by the man I left to move to Paris 7 years ago to the torn pages from schoolbooks listing the seventy reasons I was in love with a teenage boy named after a classical composer. I found the ATM receipts from every single time I withdrew money from my French bank account, in 1992, when France still had the Franc. I found letters in the scrawled handwriting of two dead people; my beloved Gramma and my father. Each time I came across their familiar cursive I wiped away my tears with one of the 78 T-shirts I have kept from the dozens of live shows I’ve been fortunate enough to see. I also found the tickets, hundreds of them, dating back to the 1980’s. I found a lock of brown curly hair belonging to I-have-no-idea-who; the teenage Composer? The French Homosexual? Me?
Reliving my past was a very cathartic way for preparing for my future. Realising what I’ve lived, where I’ve been, what my hopes and dreams were, that I had achieved my lifelong goal; I lived in Paris.
When I wasn’t shoulder-deep in boxes and garbage and memories and treasures and locks of hair, I was knee-deep in toddlers; Sapphire, Smack and Squeal. Three little people who can say my name, who are ambulant and who are blonde semi-satanic angels. Presents were opened, screams echoed across the suburbs of Sydney and the kids liked their gifts as well.
There were hours that passed neck-deep in water. I swam, the little ones swam (look at me, watch me do this, I can jump) and the big ones prayed for a precious minute of silent floating free from tiny feet kicking into fleshy womanly thighs (it really hurts). Water has the elementary power to wash away the salt and sweat of months of tears and weeks of panic and anger. Swimming in pools, stomping on wet sand, splashing in puddles; there was water everywhere and I was happy.
Finally, there were the hours, the days and the weeks spent with the people who are my sun-bleached anchors. Tears were shed, and not just by my High Visibility Godfather. I laughed so hard I split in half and even spat out mouthfuls of wine. I was with my family, the handful of people who’ve kept me going. We also ate a lot of food; prawns by the kilo, oysters, roast beef, barbecued everything and smoked salmon prepared in my brother’s new home smoker. I spent time, unscheduled time.
2013 ended unexpectedly and has blown open a world (literally) of possibility for 2014. Two months from now I have no idea where I will be, what I will be doing or who I will be with. Many gained husbands and children and jobs and dogs in 2013; my life has been stripped back to the very barest of basics. But even so, I am excited, I am scared shitless and I’m happy.
Thank you UPAD, AG & Big Al, The Smartarse, the Motherchef, The Professor, The Art-sist-olger and my rightest of arms, Motherbear, for the love and the strength to see me through 2013, ready and armed to fight my next battle.
And thank you BBC1 for Matthew Rhys in britches.
Ridiculously excited to see what you do next!
Posted by: Jo | 01/03/2014 at 09:26 AM
We'll always be there for you xxx
Posted by: AD | 01/03/2014 at 04:41 PM