Time Takes Time, and Love Makes Love
Note that the most recent Girls' Fun entry journals the sort-of-almost-maybe loss of my virginity, back in 1985. I never was sure if it counted or not. It continued for a while, the not-quite-losing-it thing.
But isn't it quite synchronicitous, what with me about to give birth and all that? No? Oh. I thought it was.
Other time-related musings: I have lived in this house for nearly twenty years now. TWENTY YEARS! Blimey.
When I moved in I was on crutches, what with having been run over by a bus a couple of weeks previously. In the same way that I insist on redecorating bedrooms single-handledly, climbing ladders, putting shelves up and generally being hyperactive when 9 months' pregnant, I found myself that evening, balanced on one leg on a rickety chair and piling boxes on a high ledge above a built-in cupboard. Nineteen years old, one bedroom in a shared flat.
And then the flatmate moved out and I got the place to myself. And then the house came up for sale, and I bought it (for eight thousand pounds!) (I know!). And then I bought the yard next door and turned in into a garden. And then we converted the attic. And now I have moved, in 20 years, from a single room in a shared flat to a five-bedroom house... without moving house.
But anyway. That room, my old bedroom, is now Felix's new bedroom, and I am having another baby. I wish someone could have played me a video of the future, that night I moved in. Look! In 20 years you'll still be here, and this will be your 6-yr-old son's bedroom, and you'll be popping another one out!
If someone had showed me a video of this house, or if I could have been transported here without being told where or when I was, would I have recognised it as the same house? I suspect not. In many ways, it isn't. But this house and I share so much history. It's 136 years old, so approximately 15% of its past belongs to me. Or partly to me. And over 50% of my past belongs to it.
I was at Uni, it was typical shared student accommodation, the walls were mouldy. The bathroom floor collapsed into the flat below the day I moved in, and I had to use the woman-downstairs' bathroom, on crutches, navigating the pile of rubble and looking up through the hole to our toilet above. I wasn't anticipating longevity. Things just happened.
I like that.
Things just happen. The future is an adventure.
___
But isn't it quite synchronicitous, what with me about to give birth and all that? No? Oh. I thought it was.
Other time-related musings: I have lived in this house for nearly twenty years now. TWENTY YEARS! Blimey.
When I moved in I was on crutches, what with having been run over by a bus a couple of weeks previously. In the same way that I insist on redecorating bedrooms single-handledly, climbing ladders, putting shelves up and generally being hyperactive when 9 months' pregnant, I found myself that evening, balanced on one leg on a rickety chair and piling boxes on a high ledge above a built-in cupboard. Nineteen years old, one bedroom in a shared flat.
And then the flatmate moved out and I got the place to myself. And then the house came up for sale, and I bought it (for eight thousand pounds!) (I know!). And then I bought the yard next door and turned in into a garden. And then we converted the attic. And now I have moved, in 20 years, from a single room in a shared flat to a five-bedroom house... without moving house.
But anyway. That room, my old bedroom, is now Felix's new bedroom, and I am having another baby. I wish someone could have played me a video of the future, that night I moved in. Look! In 20 years you'll still be here, and this will be your 6-yr-old son's bedroom, and you'll be popping another one out!
If someone had showed me a video of this house, or if I could have been transported here without being told where or when I was, would I have recognised it as the same house? I suspect not. In many ways, it isn't. But this house and I share so much history. It's 136 years old, so approximately 15% of its past belongs to me. Or partly to me. And over 50% of my past belongs to it.
I was at Uni, it was typical shared student accommodation, the walls were mouldy. The bathroom floor collapsed into the flat below the day I moved in, and I had to use the woman-downstairs' bathroom, on crutches, navigating the pile of rubble and looking up through the hole to our toilet above. I wasn't anticipating longevity. Things just happened.
I like that.
Things just happen. The future is an adventure.
___
Labels: Babies, Philosophisering
2 Comments:
8000! Our rent for a year (two bedroom flat) works out at just under 7000. Some days I wish I was born 10 years earlier or something lol. Well to a certain degree except then my Mum would have had me at 14 which would just have been wierd lol.
Yes, I'm really really glad that I happened to buy a house when you could still get cheap prices. Although it was freakishly cheap even then. There was a whole cluster of reasons why it was so low: dodgy neighbourhood, bad state of repair, being flats not a house, having sitting tenants... but still, the house next door - same size, same shape - went for £60k, which would seem like a miracle these days.
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