Time to take a deep breath because once the school year starts, we're on a treadmill. I don't know what's worse, thinking about it or going through the staffroom door on the first day. There's always a loud buzz of chat as we all catch up on summer. gossip. Today, I'm taking stock of what I need to do on the house because that will be my second job this year. I like to organise ahead of time. Sadly, a colleague lost her father this week. Several of us car pool to his funeral to support her. We've been working together so long, 22 years for me, we're like family. The service is in a relative's home and feels more personal than a funeral home. Not sure why the place we hold funerals in is called a home. Maybe because it's the last resting place for the deceased, or because it mitigates against the institutional, industrial process of modern death.
It's a hot afternoon and we're in the garden. Bagpipes begin and end the service lending solemnity, dignity and a sense of Celtic mournfulness. People tell stories of a man who was a bit of a rascal with a twinkle in his eye. Who cared about others and who was cared about in return. There are cups of tea, sandwiches and a generous Glenmorangie which nearly puts me to sleep.
I go for a sea swim to wake up and on the way home pick up a deco second hand table. I've had a deco vision in my head for this rebuild, probably started with the definitely deco fan lead lights in the old house. I call on Nicki. Our lives are houses at the moment. We talk building and sip sauvignon. Sound fun? Not sure.
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