A walk down Memory Lane

Memory LaneIt’s a personal story today

It seems appropriate, that on the day I include my privacy policy, I also spill the beans on some private moments in my life. A walk down memory lane.

There is no real learning point to this post. Just an enjoyable trot beside me. Sometimes, its just good to be personal. Thank you for that reminder Alice Elliott (How Social Chatting highlights the human side of your Business).

Yesturday was 8th April 2020

Noted because we are still in the early stages of lockdown with the Corona Virus situation. On a whim – which I am prone too, I decided to have a picnic at my desk. It was a spontaneous happening. Born more from laziness, if I am honest than a desire for a picnic.

Gathering the things for my lunch, half an avocado (move over hulk – torn in half by hand). Plus a stick of celery, 2 Ryvita crackers, 3 Kos lettuce leaves, mayo (double yum) and some ginger and garlic chicken leftover from supper the previous night. Desert was a few grapes and a satsuma – easy to eat. Plus, I had a faithful small plastic (constantly recycled) veg container. I used it as a tray, and it also doubled up nicely as a plate! 

To put this into a larger context 

I had to move out of my home because the lady I share with, is in the vulnerable age bracket for getting the virus. It really was a rush job to say the least, but the timing was perfect. I moved back into my mum and dad’s house – both passed away now – mum in September last year (it still feels like she hasn’t gone), to share with my sister who lives there.  

I am back in my old room

That’s the one I grew up in. Thus the walk down memory lane bit. In my room, there is a fridge and various shelves, plus my bed, all stashed there when I moved from Glastonbury in Somerset to help out with mum. So, I am like a nomad hobbit in my old room with a really odd assortment of furniture and a fridge! 

What a godsend it has been!

I can shop – store my own food and not clash with my sister in the fridge downstairs, tick! I have the delightful convenience of a midnight snack, without having to move that far to find it. Cue fireworks and party music. And I get to use my mum and dad’s old dressing table as a desk and now dining area – improvisation is in my nature after all. 

That’s where I sat for my impromptu picnic

When I had my wares spread in front of me, the celery stick was also a knife for spreading the mayo. I was able to leisurely dip into the various parts of the meal and found myself humming and moving my legs – a bit like I was dancing (is that Stevie Wonder playing ‘Happy Birthday?’).

I used to do this as a child. Eating was my happy place and still is. Cue another memory lane moment (I think I hear the Beetles playing …). 

Being back at home is a surprise and is poignant

We live at the back of the local cemetery in the village. I used to pick flowers there for mum when I was five. Those were the days when you could go outside safely, no one worried about you, and you only came home in time for food! I loved the cemetery. As a five year old, for me it was a very peaceful garden.

I loved looking at all the headstones, sitting under the various trees, and marveling at all the rhododendrons and flowers growing there. They were so extraordinary. By the way, they were put there in case people couldn’t afford flowers for a loved one’s grave. Nice idea!

One day, mum asked me

“Where are you getting the flowers from?”

To which I replied, “That lovely garden, over there.”

Of course I was pointing to the graveyard! You can imagine mum’s shock, but luckily on this occasion, she just told me that I couldn’t take the flowers from people’s graves (I didn’t always, a lot came from the bushes and wildflowers growing there). I got the message, though continued playing in the ‘lovely garden.’ 

The Walls of a home carry memories

Your house could tell some stories if it spoke. And that’s what is happening for me. Old memories are being overlaid and woven into new memories. I am choosing joy, even in such difficult moments.

Though I am very much aware, at this time for some women, a house will be a prison, and not a place of sanctuary. So I feel blessed that at this time, I have the privilege of being able to eat when I want, remember the stories that formed who I am, play in the lovely garden at the back of the house, in total freedom. 

The restrictions on movement

Really they are only serving me, to be more grateful for the things I took for granted. Time has slowed down, thank god, and so have I. It means that space has opened up from the incessant rush of the world. Time to reconnect with what matters, and to take a walk down memory lane.