I have never wanted to turn into one of those elderly aunts who says how much everyone has grown. And where does the time go?
But here I am noticing how everyone has grown. And wondering where the time has gone.
Take today. First I met a former colleague from my BBC TV Spotlight days – the lovely Simon Hall, pictured with me here. It’s been nearly a decade since we worked together but, my goodness, it didn’t feel like it when we opened Exeter Library’s “Local Writers' / New Talent” Day together.
And then later on, I ventured out into the sunshine with the hubby to the National Trust’s Saltram House. We took a super tour of the house but, wonderful as that was, the thing that really caught our eye was a tree. Not just any old tree, you understand, but a tree that our two sons loved when they were tiny because of its huge and gnarly trunk, split into several twisty peep-holes perfect for climbing. And….well; peeping.
Fifteen years ago, it was – that we used to visit the grounds regularly for walks with our young boys. And yet here again suddenly was this vivid, powerful image, conjured from nostalgia and longing and love – fresh as the daisies in the grass. Our sons peeping through that tree trunk.
And, on reflection, what's the point of embarrassment? May as well hold my hands up. To admit that I seem to be slowly turning into someone who gets increasingly misty-eyed over memories that have so shaped who I am. Mother. Writer. Journalist. Lover of trees.
It's an age thing. Obviously. No point fighting it, Teresa...Though, if you will forgive, I may just pass for now on the furry, zip-up slippers…
Have a great weekend and enjoy your own writing and reading.
But here I am noticing how everyone has grown. And wondering where the time has gone.
Take today. First I met a former colleague from my BBC TV Spotlight days – the lovely Simon Hall, pictured with me here. It’s been nearly a decade since we worked together but, my goodness, it didn’t feel like it when we opened Exeter Library’s “Local Writers' / New Talent” Day together.
And then later on, I ventured out into the sunshine with the hubby to the National Trust’s Saltram House. We took a super tour of the house but, wonderful as that was, the thing that really caught our eye was a tree. Not just any old tree, you understand, but a tree that our two sons loved when they were tiny because of its huge and gnarly trunk, split into several twisty peep-holes perfect for climbing. And….well; peeping.
Fifteen years ago, it was – that we used to visit the grounds regularly for walks with our young boys. And yet here again suddenly was this vivid, powerful image, conjured from nostalgia and longing and love – fresh as the daisies in the grass. Our sons peeping through that tree trunk.
And, on reflection, what's the point of embarrassment? May as well hold my hands up. To admit that I seem to be slowly turning into someone who gets increasingly misty-eyed over memories that have so shaped who I am. Mother. Writer. Journalist. Lover of trees.
It's an age thing. Obviously. No point fighting it, Teresa...Though, if you will forgive, I may just pass for now on the furry, zip-up slippers…
Have a great weekend and enjoy your own writing and reading.
- And will you forgive me also for mentioning that I have a Facebook Author page now HERE if you are part of the Facebook crowd.
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