Sometimes suddenly in summer...

The sun shines and even the rain isn't such a problem.
You sit and talk and talk and talk until the early hours of the morning.
There's a smile on your lips and a faraway look in your eyes.
Songs have far greater significance and you listen to the same album endlessly.
02 are going to be very happy about your mobile bill.
You delete pointless numbers from your handset.
Someone kisses you the way you kiss them.

Sometimes suddenly in summer.

Dresses and Successes

Bare legs used to frighten me. I was always a girl who wore tights or trousers. But this week the ridiculous temperatures in my classroom lured me into a linen dress and wedge sandals. And, man, what a reaction. I must have been told by about 25 people that I looked lovely in the dress; my favourite comments being 'Miss, you look hot' from a Sixth form girl to the female head of HR at work pointing out that if she had legs like mine she'd show them off too. It was immensely gratifying and enjoyable. On Friday my ex hesitantly asked if he could comment that I looked pretty these days. Well, of course. All people would rather be told that they look good, wouldn't they?

This dress book-ended a bit of suit wearing on Wednesday. I had an interview for a promotion for a job at work. After saying a few weeks ago that I'd decided not to chase promotion my perfect job came up and I was persuaded to apply for it. And, you know what? I got it too. The feedback from my interview made me glow with pride. From September I'll be Queenie and I'm looking forward to it.

Over this weekend my actual baby sister and our adopted baby sister came to visit me. I wore a hot dress on the night out and was amazingly successful as I did all the things I set out to do. Have a girlie night. Do a Cinderella and stop drinking by midnight. And I managed it all. I had a really wonderful night.

And finally, today I went across to Manchester to act as god-mother to my friend's baby. I managed to be early for the service (thanking heaven for sat nav) and having a lovely, lovely time with her friends and family at the party afterwards. It was a total honour to be asked to be god-mother and to be part of their day.

So, this past week has been a total high. I've had success after success and most of them have been achieved wearing a cute dress. I do believe that you have to change: whether it's as simple as being bare-legged in a summer dress or as major as having a big career change. This week will apparently also be warm. More dresses? Hell yeah. More successes? I can but hope.

Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind

Like a circle in a spiral

Like a wheel within a wheel

Never ending or beginning

On an ever-spinning reel

As the images unwind

Like the circles that you find

In the windmills of your mind

I might not have been tilting at windmills this weekend but I have to admit to an outbreak of windmills in my mind. Whilst there is certainly progression and I've really moved on in a number of ways I still find myself repeating certain patterns endlessly.

The first 'wheel within a wheel' was that I ended up at Debehams buying underwear again this weekend rather like I did in this post from last year. This year I had to get a new bra because Paul McKenna has done a rather good job of making me thin and as my 36FF assets are now 34E assets I need new lingerie. True to form I handed over a Debenhams gift card that didn't work. And I thought, I've been right here before. There were some very familiar bleeping noises emanating from the till and a whole lot of card-rubbing-on-tops-by-sales-assistants. However, this time Debenhams recognised it was their fault and allowed me to buy the bra.

The final repeating pattern is that my ex has got back with and then split up with his girlfriend again. Which has led him to telling me that he misses me a lot. I might repeat the same patterns, mistakes and fashion choices many times. But there's one person I'll never repeat my mistakes with. And that's my ex.

Innocence and Experience

I'm trying to learn not to under-estimate and I haven't under-estimated how difficult that can be.

Yesterday I took my six-year-old son to see 'His Dark Materials' Part 1 at our local theatre. If you've never read Philip Pullman's trilogy you have denied yourself of a wonderful and potentially life-changing experience. In short, Pullman has rewritten Milton's 'Paradise Lost' with a modern many-worlds slant. It is utter brilliance and all about whether you should choose to Fall: to choose experience over innocence. The consumer information was that the play was suitable for 11 and over. So I felt a little concerned when I took a six-year-old. However, he sat in rapt attention for the whole of the matinee performance. Then I asked him whether he wanted to wait for the evening performance of Part 2 so he could see how it finished? This would mean a further three hours (on top of three hours of matinee). The worst part being that it was the last night of the run, the performance was fully sold out and we'd have to wait until 7pm (his bedtime) before finding out whether we'd get seats. He told me, quite simply, 'what's the point in only seeing half of it?' and I had to concur. We queued, we got tickets, we sat through a wonderful play and I left feeling that I was proud that I hadn't under-estimated my son.

Right now I'm trying not to under-estimate myself too. After years of not applying for promotions at work I applied for one this week. I have had real issues about my motivation for doing this and if it is merely vanity as I've had quite a few senior management check whether I've applied, and they've told me that I'd be perfect for it. However, I'm not sure I am. I'm quite chaotic and no matter how many times people tell me that organisation is just a matter of writing lists and then crossing things off, I've been on this planet long enough to know that I'm the sort of person who forgets to write the list or loses it five minutes after writing it. The worst part is I think the other candidate is amazing and that they'll give her the job and I don't want to cope with the rejection. I've had enough rejection recently and I don't desire any more. I'd rather not try than fail.

But, I'm pretty far away from innocence these days and my path over the past year has been one of experience. Maybe I ought to learn the lessons of the past and try not to under-estimate myself.

Guiltless secrets

There are things that people don't admit to. I guess I shouldn't admit that when I'm peckish I pour a blob of brown sauce onto my hand and lick it off (or mayo or thousand island dressing). I ought not to admit that I spent the entire of my son's bedtime story tonight sniggering because it's 'The Faraway Tree' and in just one chapter there was Dick, Fanny and the queer folk of the Enchanted Forest.

Other things people that people might not admit to include the fact that I've totally decided that I'm not going to go for any sort of promotion in the foreseeable future. There are better jobs elsewhere and the potential for higher remuneration in my current organisation but I don't want to do more work. In fact, I'd rather do less work. It feels a bit maverick to admit that you don't want to move up the greasy pole as I think most people are expected to try to develop their career. But I don't want to.

The really guiltless secret is that I've decided that I want to remain single. I think I've realised that I'm a bit of a cranky lone wolf and I like things done my way. Over the past few weeks I've been revelling in my OCD and have done things like ensuring all the hangers in my wardrobe are black plastic. Tonight I went to Ikea and bought furniture so I can sort my room out and make it 100% clutter-free. Whilst my ex lived here the clutter was of Steptoe-esque proportions and I revel now in the complete emptiness of my house. Last night I was online at midnight tracking down a jewellery tree just so I can organise all my necklaces.

Obviously having come to the decision that I want to remain single has one major ramification. Ever since I decided that I don't want to play with boys I've had the opportunity to pull more than a barmaid at Oktoberfest. On Friday alone a doctor or dentist or something added me as a favourite on Guardian Soulmates. Then in town I got chatted up by J who was the world's shortest but funniest man. Shortly after a right fit man decided, somewhat randomly, that I was the girl to recreate that Uma Thurman / John Travolta 'Pulp Fiction' dance with. Finally, in a club 6 foot 5 of amazing dark handsomeness took a shine to me and I told my friend (for I was wholly shitfaced) that 'sometimes it's all about the ones you turn down'. And you know what, I resisted temptation ALL evening. I didn't want to kiss randoms so I didn't. I just stayed out with my friends and danced and enjoyed myself.

Now, it might be a bit odd to want to be single, but it's working for me.

How I love now

There's a poem that I haven't taught for three years that I had to teach today. Last time I taught it I was with my husband and I didn't really understand it. Today, I do.

Love After Love

The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the other's welcome,

.

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

.

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

.

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

.

Derek Walcott

My class didn't understand it and for one dangerous moment I felt the tears dancing behind my eyes as I read it. Because this poem speaks volumes about who I am these days and how I live now. This blog is over a year old but the original posts - the first steps towards catharsis - date from this time last year. At that time there were suggestions from my ex that he might want to come back and I was very confused. I would never have believed the prophesy that 'The time will come' that I would feel at one with myself. That this would feel like my house, and mine alone, with no ghosts hovering.

I wouldn't have known that I can 'love again the stranger who was your self'. I've changed so dramatically in that one year: I'm confident, I'm a lot more attractive and, heck, I'm sexier too. Metaphorically and physically I've taken 'down the love letters from the bookshelf, / the photographs, the desperate notes'. I've thrown it all out. It doesn't clutter my home, my life or my psyche.

If you are someone who is on the first steps towards experiencing love after love, or if you are faltering on your path, I can tell you that this poem is full of truth and power. You will 'give your heart back to itself'.

Sit. Feast on YOUR life x

In Amalfi with no Pradas

When I was a student my favourite film adaptation was 'A Room with a View' and my favourite chapter title was 'In Santa Croce with no Baedeker'. In the chapter Lucy loses her chaperone, Miss Bartlett, and ends up in the cathedral, Santa Croce without a guidebook to advise her which are the very important Giotto frescoes and which are not. There she has the start of an unsuitable romantic encounter.

E.M Forster's description of the foibles of Edwardian travellers in Italy has crept into my mind a few times over the past week as I am in Italy too. I'm not in Florence but in Sorrento. However, I'd love Forster's archness when writing about British tourists here. They are all discernible by their dress: why is it that as soon as a Briton leaves the country they believe that they need to wear khaki trousers with a multitude of pockets and ugly walking shoes? Just to walk round a city? And why must their handbag be traded for a rucksack and a litre of water in one hand? The rebellious part of me has chosen a gorgeous and impractical blue Italian handbag for the daytime and I've been wearing cute sparkly sandals and proper clothes. Do I look Italian? No. Do I look like I should be on safari rather than walking down a shopping street? I sincerely hope not.

But travelling in Italy is sometimes quite like becoming single again. There are a lot of reverses and alterations which you just have to deal with. One day we set off to visit Amalfi and instead visited Positano and then came back. Yesterday, we planned to visit Amalfi but there were 300 people queuing for a bus that carried 67 so we wandered Sorrento and sunbathed instead. Today we planned to visit the Archeological Museum of Naples but when we got to the station all the trains were cancelled so we ended going up to Amalfi finally. Due to the notorious nature of Naples we had emptied our bags of mobiles, cameras, credit cards and cash and were only carrying the bare minimum. However, our diversion to Amalfi meant I turned up in one of the most chic locations on earth wearing 5 euro sunglasses rather than my beautiful, and thoroughly cherished, Prada sunglasses (I'm not telling you what they cost - suffice to say BOTH of my last cars were traded in for a substantially lower sum...). I'd pictured myself wandering around Amalfi in my fit black dress, sparkly sandals, gorgeous handbag and Pradas. But that was not to be. However, I have to say that life is what you make it and I completely loved the town even if I was in Amalfi with no Pradas, which is just a modern version of being in Santa Croce with no Baedeker.