I am stood in the girls’ bedroom. Their hasty departure to school hangs in the air, unmade beds, pyjamas thrown on the floor and books scattered across the carpet. I sigh as I contemplate where I should begin. Writer’s block has struck again and I still have two pieces that I need to write today. The thumping behind the eyelids also told me that it was time to take a break, so I shut down the laptop and started pottering with jobs. Washing up the breakfast things, loading the never-ending conveyor belt of clothes into the washing machine and finally tidying the girls’ bedroom, again.
My Favourite Room
The girls’ bedroom is my favourite room in the house. Yes, the roof is leaking and as such they have an unsightly stain around one of their windows, but it is still a beautiful room. I would go as far to say that it’s the best room in the house. I would have loved a bedroom like this as a child. What it lacks in space it makes up for in character. It’s tucked up in the eaves, and their beds are squeezed in under the sloping roof. Their room is too small for all of their belongings so Oldest’s chest of drawers has been relocated to the guest room/my office; their toy storage box and kitchen has been relocated to the landing. In reality it is probably a highly impractical home for a growing family, but the lack of storage doesn’t bother us as we fell in love with the cottage as soon as we stepped through the front door.
Our new home is a three bed cottage and the memories of its previous inhabitants feel like they are etched into the creaky staircase and embedded into the grooves of the floor. This house has spirit. Stood in the girls’ bedroom, I stand and watch as the rain hits the windowpane. It’s so heavy that I can hear it smacking the roof tiles above me. For a moment I worry about the problematic roof and how it will hold up, but I push that niggling thought to the back of my head.
Outside the grey mist swirls and I notice that I can’t even see the castle today. It’s like a thick curtain has come down, hugging the houses and muffling the sound. Silence fills the house and I realise that despite the grey weather, I feel upbeat. It might be a miserable day but it’s still beautiful in its own way. It’s then that I realise that the bad mood that has been hanging over me for the past month must finally be lifting. The gloomy weather isn’t pervading my thoughts, instead I am looking for joy.
I feel wrapped up inside the cottage. Perched up high on the hill, I can see over the surrounding village. It feels comfortable and cosy. I remind myself that I must never take this view for granted, that I always need to make sure that I set time aside to go upstairs and drink in the beautiful view. It also occurs to me that I must always look for joy because there is always joy to be had, even when it doesn’t feel like it.
Escaping The Noise
The house is quiet, the only sound being the rain, I recognise that I am enjoying the peace and quiet, I am enjoying the solitude. Family life is fantastic but it’s frantic and loud and the evenings are a mishmash of bad piano playing, shouting, pans clanging and the television being switched on far too loud, my protestations of “turn it down” are ignored, and I am chided when I suggest that we don’t watch the television.
This week I am enjoying working from home, I’m relishing the nothingness before the Easter holidays. It’s then that I realise I have broken the writer’s block and I’m ready to write again.
I head back downstairs, put on the kettle and open up the laptop. Yes, I rather like working from home.