As it’s International Women’s Day today, I thought I’d theme my songs to fit with that.
The last one was pretty successful, I think we got most of the songs and those that we didn’t, well I can’t remember what they were anyway. My itunes was re-written for a new computer and ipod, so we may never know.
But for your entertainment, here’s another 25 second lines of songs for you to guess. I’m looking for the first line, the artist and the song and I’ll put your name next to it if you get it right. Oh, the fame!
- White lips, pale face Breathing in snowflakes. Ed Sheeran, A Team guessed by Louise
- Just like me love everlasting.
- One Love, one heart Let’s get together and feel alright. Bob Marley, One love guessed by Helen. Continue reading
I think in general I have pretty good instincts but I am pretty crap at acting upon them. I’ll give you a few examples:
I thought I should have left my job at the homeless hostel within about 6 months of starting there. But I thought I would be letting people down or that it might not look good on my CV if I was only in a job for 6 months.
After a year with my ex boyfriend I thought that things weren’t working and that I should leave but various things had led me to think I wasn’t strong enough to cope on my own. So I stayed and he made me miserable and I tried to make him happy but couldn’t. I stayed for 2 years and for that whole time he was cheating on me.
The week before I moved here I went to visit my dad and told him that he needed to start looking after himself because I wasn’t coming back for 2 years and I didn’t want this visit to be the last time I saw my dad alive. He thought I was being ridiculous but we still talked about things like wills and getting his important paperwork sorted out. I don’t know why I said that to him in the glow of a summer afternoon’s sunshine but I just knew somehow that I needed to because my instincts told me he wasn’t well. And two weeks later his doctor’s visit told him he had terminal cancer. Four weeks and 3 days later he was dead and that visit had been the last time I saw my dad alive in any real sense. Of course I saw him for the two days before he died in his hospice bed but by that time he was not really recognisable as my father – the person who told me that I should say ‘May I get down from the table?’ rather than ‘Can I get down from the table?’, the person who would push me on the swing and let me push off his tummy with both feet just to get higher, the person who kept a text message from me saying ‘I love penguins I do’ on his phone for 4 years because it made him giggle.
So I think I know somehow when I need to change things but mostly I’m too afraid to do so because I don’t want to let other people down or disappoint anyone. But I’m 29 now. I don’t want to be living to please others and keeping on to see if it will be alright when I know deep down somewhere that it won’t. And so I’ve come to a decision.
I’ve come to my grandmother’s house to clean up before my aunt gets here tomorrow; I pressed play on my ipod – there’s 7144 tracks ont here at the moment (I really should get some more) and the first that came up was this song by Katriona Gilmore and Jamie Roberts . Jamie is the little brother of Kathryn Roberts that I linked to earlier in this blog, talented family.
Travelling in Time:
I wandered off today, back to the house we lived in then, the sound of voices play, the children are young 5, 8 and 10.
The rooms seem darker to me, but everyone else says they can see fine, shapes are all I can see, your voice calls me back to present day time.
It seemed to fit with what I’m doing. I’m picking up some cds I loaned to Dad, pinching back the DVD The West that I gave him, and getting rid of the mess I made staying here last week. It doesn’t seem fair for my aunt to come here to come to say goodbye to her brother and mother with some of my washing up still here.
It’s a different house now. It has been in our family for 80 years or so – I think my great-grandmother lived here, my great-uncle, great-aunt, my grandmother moved here after her husband died 38 years ago, my dad moved in 9 years ago after he and mum split up. The house will be sold now, maybe it will stay with another family for as long, but more likely someone will buy it and build something in the garden, sell it for much more. I don’t want to stay here now, it was fine when I was staying to visit dad, my cat was here, but now the cat has gone to live with my oldest brother and his family, so nothing living is here now. It still has its familiar books and pictures, models that dad made, plates, pencils that went towards Gaggy’s collection.
I know that this seems morbid or melancholic, but I don’t think it is really. People are what makes something or somewhere make you feel like you belong. I’ve been very lucky, I’ve lived with 18 people in the last 9 years and I’ve felt at home nearly everywhere I’ve been. I’ve had a good week – I’ve been singing with my old choir, I’ve sat in on some lessons at my old school to see the sorts of things I should be doing when I get back to Tanzania, I’ve bumped into people I’ve not seen for years. Although I can’t picture myself ever living permanently in Northamptonshire or even in England for quite a while, it’s good to know I can fit back in relatively easily. And I know I’ll fit back in Tanzania when I go back there.
It’s been interesting watching people since I’ve been back because I’m the only one on my own – in some respects that gives me a fair bit of freedom because I can decide what I want to do without having to co-ordinate plans with someone else, or think about what they want to do. It’s good to be a bit selfish sometimes. But it’s also good to see people being able to support each other, being happy, doing silly little things together, I do miss that a bit but for now, it’s just me on my own and it’s time for that. I’ve completely lost my train of thought now and should probably get back to cleaning things up…
Burt Bacharach and Hal David put it well, Ella Fitzgerald sings it best
(Although, I don’t think you have to have a man around to make your house a home, but that’s not the point of the song.)