It has been a crazy few weeks for the DiaryOf Family. On top of the usual Christmas shenanigans, we have had all manner of things which have conspired to take me to the edge of sanity. Like most families at this time of year, we were all sick at various stages and in various ways. Both kids had birthdays, and – of course – insisted on parties. Family from both sides came to visit, so everything from laundry to sightseeing, to celebratory dinners had to be organised. My survival method, through the chaos, has been to indulge in some low level fantasising. Nothing too exciting (this is a family blog), just a little dreaming of a different life.
I think it was watching Sense and Sensibility that started it for me… I was mesmerised seeing the Austen ladies swoon every time they got bad news. I was fascinated by their retreat to their beds with a “chill” whenever they got their hair wet. And, (my favorite) the way in which they exercised by “taking turns” around their spacious drawing rooms (basically walk in circles indoors while gossiping about men) made me think modern women are missing a trick. We may be more independent, we may get to drink gin and wear trousers without being considered wanton wenches, but there is a hefty payback. Swooning and taking turns around rooms sounds so much more, well, straightforward, than hosting a children’s birthday party, followed by a 3 course family dinner party, followed by a broken night changing sheets for sick children.
But, as I was allowing my mind to happily dwell on how nice I would look in a skirt with hoops, and wondering how long my hair would need to be a proper 19th century lady, it dawned on me that my ancestors were very, very, poor. In other words, my chances of doing anything in a drawing room other than cleaning it, were slim. And as for swooning….. my family would have been far too busy polishing the brasses (not clear what exactly the brasses are, but certain that my lot were not admiring their reflections in them), and peeling mountains of potatoes for elaborate dinners that they would never eat. So that put my fantasy historic existence firmly back in its place. I consoled myself by thinking that even if I have to cook the meals, I also get to eat them, and wash them down with a nice glass of wine. And although there isn’t much space in my living room for laps around it, I still find time to have the occasional gossip.
I am not giving up on my fantasy life though…. Now that my son has started nursery, I am entertaining myself with the fabulous entrepreneurial career I will fashion for myself in the 3 hours a day he is in school. I am not sure what it will be yet, or how I will start it, but these are mere details. Naturally it will be very well paid, so that I can justifiably outsource some of the other operations (ironing? vacuuming?) that are currently pressing on my limited time. Also, this career will not require any capital to set up, because I haven’t got any. Any day now, I will figure it out. And if I can’t behave either like a heroine in an Austen novel, or create a lucrative career for myself in the mornings, I am sure there is another fantasy world ready and waiting for me. It’s either that or face reality…. I will keep you posted.
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Diary of is a regular blog written by a regular Greenwich mum. Sharing her experiences as a local parent (and member of this website) she’ll be writing about everything and anything. And being completely anonymous – you never know – you could have stood next to her in the Post Office or behind her in Cafe W…
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