Beeswax and boredom
Fri, Oct 9th 2009
Yesterday was a joy. Just staff from one school in a beautiful old manor hotel. We sat in a circle with sunlight streaming through onto the deep gleam of wooden antique furniture. Could even smell the beeswax. The little school had saved up for years. They wanted to focus on building children’s self-esteem but knew that for this to happen you have to nurture the self-esteem of the adults first. There was coffee and walnut cake, trout for lunch, grapes and sweets everywhere. Bliss! The day smiled for them – I was even able to ask them to go into the garden (no, not to hug the trees) but just to have a quiet golden moment - with sunlight on our shoulders basking in the fact we, despite all our problems, are amongst the luckiest people in the world. We have peacetime, democracy, a good style of living and work with funny, brave, children – the list is long.
So, refreshed and reinvigorated I arrived home. My mum, who does not live with me all the time – but a lot of the time - was there to greet me. She was agitated and demanding. I forget how like children some older people can become in wanting their immediate needs met. “I can’t stay here anymore, it’s so boring.” (Three people had been with her all day, including my daughter). “I want to come with you to your training day tomorrow. No arguments. I’ll sell your books for you.”
“Sorry Mum, no – the seats are hard, it’s too long a day and you won’t be able to have a nap!”
“You are so horrible and mean to me” (collapses on sofa with disbelief at her daughter’s cruelty).
I’m now wired! Furious, yet so sad for her. She was once a powerful woman. A ‘doer’. Now locked in a frail body, unable to do anything for herself, her frustration is boundless. Her power gone: of course I can see that she needs to cast me as the wicked (privileged) fairy……but it’s hard. Tired and tense I switch on the t.v. for us both.
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