It is quite windy at the moment! My mum mentioned that it’s nearly midsummer and I almost fell off my chair in surprise. It just doesn’t feel like summer. I realised that this may be quite a lot to do with my circumstances – it’s the first time in my memory that I haven’t had term dates to give my year shape. That thought gave me pause.
Anyway, the change part is that I think I’m done with the hospital, until they have paid work for me that is. I came home early today after having gone in and discovered the work I’d been planning on doing had been done by someone else, and on the way home I got a call from a pub I’d applied at, wanting to interview me tomorrow. I’ve sent off my references to the cleaning agency who seem keen, and I’m going next week to talk to the hospice I’ll be volunteering at. So even if I don’t get a lot of paid work, I’ll have other things to occupy my time.
This weather is so strange. I can’t quite credit that it’s almost June. It looks like my idea of March, or maybe early November – not the beginning of summer. And April was roasting. I do wonder if it’s actually that the weather is weird this year, or if it’s just that I’ve never needed to take any notice of it before. Now, the weather is pretty much how I can tell what season we’re in. It’s exam time and I’m not taking exams. It’s nearly the summer vacation and I’m not vacating anything. The end of term is approaching and I came down more than six months ago.
Can you credit that? More than six months ago. Paris feels like a brief but enjoyable dream, which has receeded so far into the distance that it doesn’t seem quite real. Earlier today I was reading a novel and a description of a child gave me a sudden pang of missing Daughter Four. I do miss all of them, to varying degrees, but Daughter Four and Baby Girl were the two whose trust and love I had finally earned, rather than had all along or never quite managed. And now they probably don’t even remember me. Such is life, I suppose. There’s always another train.