I think I’ll take this one!

Two car Wendy – I’ll take this one!

We’re all going on a summer holiday

Lanky and I leave for France in my new SAAB convertible on Monday morning at 8am from Portsmouth harbour. The preparations are mostly concerned with making sure that everything back home still functions in my absence. This takes up so much time that I hope I remember to buy a triangle – a necessary motoring requirement when driving through Spain. We are visiiting people along the way as a result of their friends. I did drag all my summer clothes out and selected a few as I know that you can always buy another tee shirt at the local market however, this is what I received from friends we will stay with in Andorra:
A) they drive like loons, don’t let it put you off, just join in the fun.
B) there is no unemployment so road works abound, circulatory police wave continually at the traffic, to what purpose we know not
C) daily refuse collection
D) it rains a lot in the afternoons, though we are in the clouds
E) everything is vertical
F) the Fiat Panda 4wd is the car of choice and extremely hard to buy. We saw one for sale today, 20 year old rust bucket for E2k

Don’t forget our brolley as we’re missing it hugely (& it’s all my fault) and bring one of your own, It is beautiful here, and bonkers!

So much for relentless sunshine. But first I must make sure that we have got a huge supply of cat food, cat litter and something in the freezer for my husband. I have to write yet another piece for my writing group, remembering to include all the senses and then edit and hone it down to 500 words. Passport, ticket, money that is the mantra and because we are driving, insurance, French breakdown bag, Spanish fluorescent vests and triangles. Keep the steering wheel to the kerb side of the road and don’t forget the French phrase book – also I need a Spanish road map. Nearly there just get through today and then I can concentrate on cold wet weather gear and throw in a summer frock for Spain.

RETIREMENT – Work is Finished

She put the last few papers and books into a fold away box that she had remembered to bring in with her, just in case there were any last minute things to clear away. Looking around the room she thought, this is it, finished. No more getting up at 6.30 every morning. She tucked the box under her arm and picked up a bag containing champagne and presents and left the silent room. Her shoes made an echoing sound as she strode down the corridor, she heard the ghost noises of children chattering, doors slamming and teachers yelling at someone to stop running. Everyone had left the building only the whirr of the cleaning machine sounded somewhere. Past closed doors and empty rooms she felt hollow inside. What was she supposed to think? She had worked since she was twenty one, even when the children were small she did something to earn money. She didn’t feel retired or a pensioner. She didn’t feel anything she just felt like Jennifer James, a teacher in Adult Education, correction, was a teacher in Adult Education. She looked at her hands pock marked with freckle like spots, her hair would go grey but she chose to have it coloured were these the signs that she chose to ignore. Was she getting old?
‘Evening,’ said a female voice.
‘Oh good evening, sorry I didn’t see you.’
She smiled at the cleaner as she walked past dragging her duster along the dado rail. Pushing the swing doors with her shoulder she breathed in the clean air and headed for her car.
She drove out of the school entrance for the last time. Everything she had done today had been for the last time. Looking left and then right and the left again she pulled out into the road and drove more slowly than usual. She turned on the radio but her head was too full of thoughts to concentrate and so she turned it off again.
The house was empty, it was always empty, and there was a musky smell of neglect. She switched on some lights to give it a warm glow and put the kettle on. She looked in the fridge and took out a plastic box containing the remains of a stew that she had made earlier in the week, she could have it with some potatoes. What now? She thought as she lifted the bag of presents onto the table. I could have a drink or I could sit and watch television or I could read. Retired, what do you do when you retire? She had divorced her husband years ago and the children had children of their own, she was not wanted any more, she was on the heap.
The phone rang and it startled her.
‘Hello.’
‘Jennifer, how are you?’ It was Suzy.
‘Oh hi, I’m fine thanks, I just got in.’
‘I wondered if you would like to go out to the Arts Café tonight, there’s a pianist and a saxophonist playing.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Come on, you’ve got the rest of your life to make a decision or not, it’ll be fun. I’ll pick you up at seven.’
That was tonight taken care of.

Jennifer went across to the window and drew back the curtains, day three of retirement. It was Monday morning a day that signalled the start of another week, except she had no reason to signal the start of another week, she opened the windows and listened to the birds calling to each other. Chirruping a merry song or cooing a low intimate call, she stood and let the sounds come to her. She would take her tea out into the garden and sit for a while listening to the birds.
It was a pleasant garden, she had always enjoyed pottering and planting, it had been a place of refuge after a day at college. Now it was the rest of her life. She felt lonely, she couldn’t just do gardening. A tear trickled down her cheek and she sucked in a quick breath, take a hold, get a grip. What was happening? She let it happen, the tears started to flow and soon her face was hot with grief as she sat and sobbed in the morning sunlight. She cried for her children who had all flown the nest, she cried for her failed marriage, she cried for the lost lover that she didn’t have the guts to run off with. She cried for the job that no longer needed her. She cried and cried until she felt drained.