… I have that drowning feeling.
Faced with too many tasks, knowing I’m doing nothing well enough.
Brain can’t/won’t focus correctly.
I have a list. Eight tasks is not overwhelming.
I do not have coffee. That can be fixed.
Onwards. Small steps.
All shall be done.
And if it’s not? Well – nobody will have dies because my To Do list still has unticked items on it this evening.
Yesterday evening I took all the children to a neighbours house for a garden party. The lady in question lives next-door-but-one, and a few months ago was diagnosed with MND – and given 9mths to live. She is 54. She has no husband, no children, she’s a passionate gardener, and she was a teacher at a well-known private school for many years before becoming head librarian at another local private school. She has the brightest, naughtiest smile, she walks to the shops with a wicker basket… and that’s all I really know of her. She’s lovely, but in all the years she’s lived here we’ve never really got beyond the friendly neighbours stage.
Yesterday I sat in her garden and watched as she was surrounded by old friends and pupils, who had all come together to throw a party for her. A film reel looped around the events she has been involved with through her career – showing her countless times descending into giggles as film crews got stuck in mud, as she came up against a snake in Nepal, as she directed film productions and poked fun at young actors. As I chatted to the other guests in her garden, beyond the neighbours I knew practically every single person there was an old pupil of hers. They had come from far and wide to see her, and to thank her for making a difference to their lives.
And as I watched her sitting in her wheelchair, surrounded by so much affection and warmth, glass of wine firmly in a very chilly hand, I felt sad that i’d never got to know her better. And yet so touched that so many people had felt such affection for her.
It was a wonderful evening, and not one I’ll forget in a hurry.
So yes. Coffee first. Then To Do list.
And while I wait for the kettle to boil I’ll step outside, breathe in the air which is heaven-fresh after last night’s rains, and just… be thankful. Not fretful.