Back to reality

25 November – 3 December 2014

Our Paris adventure was over. Dusk was falling as we left the train and pulled our bags past Paul Day’s huge bronze sculpture, The Meeting Place at St Pancras. We made it to Waterloo with prefect timing, the Southampton train was just about to leave. Outside the dirty train window the English countryside sped past as the sun went down. At one point I spotted a sliver of the Itchen Navigation as we passed through Allbrook. We were home.

After a day of washing and shopping for food it was back to work and back to reality on Wednesday morning. Walking through the cold, drizzly streets to work seemed a far cry from strolling in the Paris sun but there were swans to greet me when I reached the river. A little group were gathered on the corner by the Boardwalk and one bold swan started to make his way towards me. He probably thought I had bread. One of the other swans pulled him back quite violently. For a moment I thought a fight was going to break out. I got a hard stare when it became obvious there was no bread on offer.

At least it wasn’t raining on Thursday morning and I decided on my alternate route over Cobden Bridge. Some interesting fungi outside the Station Pub caught my eye and I realised I’d not seen a single one in France. Surely they must have them? On the bridge the river was like glass topped with the little ships moored there but the sky was covered by an unrelenting layer of grey cloud hiding the sun. By the time I got to the moorings by the Millennium flats the sun was trying hard to break through, I could just make out its outline looking more moon than sun. The blue skies of Paris felt like a dream.

Slowly I settled back into the routine of work, trawling my way through more than ten days worth of emails about road works and accidents. On Friday morning I watched aghast as the morning news showed fights and stampedes for Black Friday bargains. What were they thinking queuing for six hours to get a few pounds off a TV? It didn’t even occur to me that we’d spend the whole day dealing with the fall out of traffic jams.

The sky was almost blue when I left for work, almost. A huge gathering of swans and cygnets were on the water but they ignored me as I passed. Maybe they’ve realised I’m not the bringer of bread. By lunchtime the constant stream of a insults from people waiting for buses that were stuck in traffic began to take its toll. Usually I just make myself a cup of coffee, switch off my phone and answer a few emails to try to make a dent in the backlog. Now I needed to get away. It was all too much.

I took myself off to the Boardwalk and sat on the bench just quietly looking out at the sun playing on the water and the bare, skeleton trees. It was CJ’s birthday and I realised that, twenty five years ago almost to the moment, I’d been giving birth to him. Commando Senior’s birthday would have been the next day, Saturday and one of my last memories of his smiling face was at this spot on his last ever outing. He’d had a hankering to see the boardwalk he’d read about in my blog so Commando drove him down to Horseshoe Bridge and he struggled down the slope with his crutches just in time to meet me from work. In my mind’s eye I could see him standing there and I walked down to the spot, closed my eyes and remembered. A little tear trickled down my face. Of course I still had to go back to the office and things didn’t get any better. It was not my best day ever and I was glad when it was over. Unfortunately I had to go back and do it all again the next morning.

At least Saturday looked like it had the makings of a good weather day. There was an arc of bright pink cloud slashing the sky as I tucked into my granola and I watched it slowly fade and change into blue. Of course, as it was almost the end of November this meant a very chilly walk to work with tingling nose and fingers. On the river there was a golden glow and a bevy of swans on the bank. Gulls darted about in the shimmering clouds and, further on, Suki II looked as if she was sitting in a puddle of gold. It was the perfect day for a long walk but of course I had to go to work.

With only three of us in the office and one of those leaving at lunch time it wasn’t the easiest day. Extensions to Black Friday in lots of shops along with Christmas shopping mayhem kept us busy. At the end of the day I wasn’t going home. Commando and I had a meal in town with his sister and her husband in honour of Commando Senior’s birthday. After the initial sadness that the guest of honour couldn’t be present it was a surprisingly happy occasion.

The weekend I’d been so looking forward to turned out to be a wash out and I’m not talking about rain for a change. Sunday started with great promise when Commando announced he’d got tickets for the football. Normally matches are on Saturdays when I’m at work so I haven’t been to a match at all this season and, with Saints sitting at second in the Premiership, I’ve missed some amazing ones. Because this match against Manchester City was televised on Sky Sports it was played on Sunday. Result for me, or so I thought.

It was another crisp cold morning and the walk to the stadium was pleasant, filled with anticipation. For the first half things didn’t look too bad. We didn’t score but then neither did they and, as they are one of the top teams, it was good news. Sadly things went downhill in the second half and the score ended at three nil, not to us I am sad to say. Oh well, you can’t win em all.

There wasn’t a great deal to look forward to on Monday. Certainly not my afternoon trip to the dentist. To cap it all I woke full of cold, coughing, sneezing and with a runny nose. Not a pretty sight at all. After the dreaded dentist I also had a numb mouth followed by an aching jaw but at least my cracked filling had been replaced so it wasn’t all bad news. It does irk a little that I had to pay for the privilege of all that pain though.

By Tuesday my cold was worse and rather than the walk I’d planned to see the newly reopened windmill complete with sails, I spent the day sitting on the sofa sipping lemsip and feeling very sorry for myself. The windmill will have to wait until next weekend I guess. Such is life.