Who is in control?

I’m away on holiday with my other half. We are celebrating his birthday.

I love to be organised.  I need to have things in order, what I’m eating, where I go. My work needs to be arranged in advance. So when I’m on holiday I find that I’m a little out of my depth! Others are doing things for me, making my decisions. And will have had to be organised in advance, so I literally don’t have to be.

I find it a little disconcerting.

Of course I love being looked after and relish the idea that I don’t have to cook or wash up. But I have to make the bed, tidy the pillows and push the chairs back. I even wash the little cups before the cleaners come in to the room in the morning. Yes – I’m the woman who has to clean the house before the cleaner comes in – if I had a cleaner…

We are in a complex, in an apartment. That is a posh hotel room – with a little kitchen. We are overlooking a beautiful golf course, surrounded by trees. The geese fly over head to get to the lakes that surround the accommodation, and squirrels run up and down the trees finding their next meal. Of course the place is kept spotless. The cleaners wizz around on their bikes, and the maintenance people are in electric vans. They have it down to a tee.  Each villa and apartment is made with the same material and fitting so when something brakes they don’t have to work out what is needed – its all the same, so is easy to repair or replace! Brilliant, quick and efficient!

For someone who is so organised and controlling – this is the place of my dreams!

Now we are going for dinner tonight. It has taken us a few attempts to decide what restaurant we want to go to. We wrote the names of all the choices on pieces of paper, and picked the one that we were going to tonight. Please don’t tell me we are the only ones who do this. In fact I find it focuses the mind! If our first choice isn’t really the one we want to go to – we discard it and actually commit the one we want to go to!  So we are going out for a steak to the French restaurant, and if I can I will sit on the right hand side, near the window so I can watch the world go by!

Tea from a china cup

There is nothing nicer than drinking tea from a bone china cup, or a mug. To me that is a real luxury. Hot tea, with just a drop of milk so the flavour comes through. Just brewed for enough time. 3 minutes. I’m not talking about loose leaf tea, but a simple tea bag will do.

Isn’t it odd how everyone’s definition of luxury is so very different. From the mum who want 5 minutes to her self, to those who demand high end goods, and the best of everything.

We all have our own definition.

The chink of the china as you lay it on the table, and light weight feel  as the handle cradles your fingers. as if it was made for you. Bright white, not a gaudy colour insight.

Now, if it wasn’t in the sink with a pile of dirty mugs, then that would be luxury its self. Better get washing!

In the Name of ‘Normal’ (the story of a broken fence)

So many folks must be walking around not knowing why they do what they do. I work with a psychiatrist who says ‘labels are only for jam!’ And our past and and those ‘labels’ dont define who we are.
An amazingly written piece. Im glad Ju you have hopefully found peace.

Ju Blencowe

It is this time of year when the memories of being broken come flooding back and respectfully I acknowledge them and can now gently embrace them as valuable jewels in my life. In a few weeks time it will be three years since my mum died, two years since I went missing, since walking to London for Missing People, a year since going into reclusive mode and starting to write my book, a year since being unable to walk, two months since foot surgery and a two weeks since receiving a formal diagnosis of autism.

How life can change in an instant. If you had met me several years ago I would have presented to you as a completely different person. My job title was Teaching Fellow at a very well respected University. I had a beautiful room in the Social Science and Public Policy Department and taught students who…

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