Resolution

Every new year begins the same – the promise of positive thinking. A whole list of new year’s resolutions that are obsolete by the end of January. This year – no resolutions.

Last year I was on a high of positivity – our last Christmas in California; I was looking forward to that downward spiral knowing I was coming home. Of course when it was time to come home, I was incredibly sad, all that glorious Californian sunshine and that easy convenient lifestyle, gone.

Fitting back in is hard – much harder than I thought - especially now as I am on my own.  Yes I have days when I relish my freedom, but there are other days – especially weekends, when I feel like a complete social pariah – weekends are family times, my friends are busy with their own husbands and their own kids.  Friday and Saturday evenings are the worse and I find myself willing the weekend away – Monday comes a relief. Back to normal again, a routine.

Of course having our Xmas plans scuppered at the last minute didn’t help. A week in that Saudi sunshine loomed but was thwarted by the ‘mañana’ effect –  despite assurances our paperwork was being processed, the 'official’ invitation did not arrive. No invitation, no visa;  no visa, no flight.  “It will be with you shortly” translated into not on your nelly.  Perhaps in time for a trip at Easter, the husband suggested hopefully. Forget it, I know where I’m not wanted.

So feeling a bit like Cinderella we set off for a couple of nights at a local hotel with spa facilities where the teenager, daughter No 1 and I indulged in some mother-and-daughter bonding over copious amounts of Prosecco and a mushroom risotto for Christmas dinner.  Long walks in a very wet New Forest, a howling gale and flooded roads only made me miss that Californian sunshine even more.

Last Christmas we spent the day on the beach in Santa Monica. This year the beach at Highcliffe wasn’t even visible through the murk and the mist  from the cafe 50ft up at the top of the cliff.

To get out of the Boxing Day rain we browsed the shelves of the W H Smith sale, where a small booklet entitled 365 Positive Thoughts – one for every day of the year – caught my eye.  This was what I needed, a little something to look at every morning, to spur me into action.  Alas, as I perused the pages I realised this book was not for me, one of the quotes instructed the reader to try again at whatever they had failed at the day previously.  Sometimes you just have to re-group and move on; I can’t think of a less positive thought than failing miserably at something two days on the trot.

Creativity is born from the pit of despair.  All those great writers with their miserable lives – Emily Bronte trapped in her isolated parsonage riddled with ill health; lonely vicar’s daughter Jane Austen, and all those anguished great poets; would they have been able to write such works of arts if their lives had been filled with endless sunshine, riveting company, and a dizzy social life? Highly unlikely.

So this year no  promises of self-improvement, trips to the gym, inspired cooking or lowering my alcohol intake. Just one aim and one ambition. Get published – or at the very least – keep my blog up to date!

Happy Christmas

A frustrating, stressy week

Christmas plans changed

Workmen in the house

Creativity at all time low

On with the Xmas shopping

Start the Xmas wrapping

And count my blessings

Hopefully back on track with the blogging in the New Year

Brrr.....

When I started this new blog the aim was report on how we were settling in after three years of living abroad; how we were acclimatising and adjusting to life back in the UK

As the first freezing sleet of the year begins to fall I can tell you now that far from settling in, hibernation has never seemed such an attractive prospect.

Brrr it’s cold.  After three years of Californian winters I’m not prepared for this.  I don’t even own that UK bare essential – an ice scraper for the car. I am actually one of those rare people who overnight their car in the safe confines of a garage,  but heading out for the evening last night I realised the car may well  freeze up in the two hours or so it was going to be left outside.  Could I find an ice scraper? No, all I uncovered in the depths of the garage was the culmination of our seasonal motoring needs in the US  - two sun shields for those hot sunny afternoons in the parking lot. Fat lot of good they are going to serve us here.

My wardrobe is totally inadequate.  I have had to purchase several jumpers, warm socks, and a new winter coat. I’m already on my third umbrella. Our heating bill for this quarter – and I’m sure January and February are only going to be worse – is enormous.  In Pasadena I only remember putting the fire on about twice in three years.

At first the thought of being cold was a novelty; the chance to wear some different clothes. I quite liked the idea of wearing long sleeves, and my discount boots purchased in those designer mega-stores, well they were hardly worn.  Now I rarely take them off.

I scuttle from the car to the house and then back out again, not a mere ounce of flesh on show. I’d forgotten what frost looked like, I’d forgotten those biting winds, the sunsets at four o’clock.

But of course it’s not all doom and gloom in the UK,  because Kate Middleton is finally pregnant! You can almost hear the sighs of relief all round.  The American tabloid press had Kate pregnant with twins since her wedding night – if not before.  Every time I stood in line at Ralphs supermarket the gossip mags by the check-out lead with headline stories about Kate’s ‘secret’ pregnancy.

The Americans love our royals – I was constantly quizzed about the Queen, Helen Mirren, Prince Charles and  Harry and Wills as if I knew them personally.  If we British ever decide to declare a republic and get rid of our royals, there will always be a home for them in America - apart from Camilla, of course. At least that's one suggestion that probably wont be cropping up on the list of  prospective baby-names....