Folk dressed up, a fab wee gig and a fab wee gig

I had a head like a burst ball this morning following one beer too many and a late night to bed. However, feeling a bit rough this morning was a small price to pay for the great night Alex and I had out in Stirling. After a busy Satur-day, we'd decided to go out for a wee meal then support a friend’s gig at a local pub at night. 

Now, I might just be imagining it, but I’m pretty sure that Halloween used to just be all about kids going out guising on the 31^st of October and the odd fancy dress party here and there. I don’t remember folk going out on the town, just for a drink, dressed up for Halloween. Have things changed, or am I just suffering from middle-aged fuzz again? Anyway, we had a great laugh watching all the witches, ghosties, Buzz Lightyears, fairies, Minnie Mice, monsters, Elvis’s,  Harry Potters and such like walking past the window of our restaurant in various states of inebriation! If I could’ve given out prizes as they passed by, Goofy and Pocahontas linked arm-in-arm to help support a very merry Freddy Kruger would definitely have been awarded the winning trophy! We hadn’t expected such first class entertainment as we sat blethering, so the night got off to a good start. (I must admit; I do feel like a bit of a hypocrite here; normally I would’ve been shaking my head seeing quite so many young folk quite so drunk quite that early on in the evening. However, I just couldn’t help laugh at the sight of so many steamin Spider Men and paralytic Pirates ....!) 

By the time we made it to the pub, it was absolutely heaving and The Boos Bros had already started their set. I’ve not known Greig all that long – just since I joined the choir back in April – but I’ve known him long enough to appreciate that he’s a genuinely nice bloke with a genuinely fantastic voice! The Boos Bros consists very basically of Greig and his friend John – but John’s skills on the guitar are far from basic and, matched with Greig’s voice, they make an awesome team. I don't know where they get their energy from; not only had they done a gig the night before, they'd also performed at a local charity event that afternoon. Yet they kept the lively crowd – and its many fantastic costumes - thoroughly entertained. We had such a great time and it was with a definite - though wobbly - spring in our step that Alex and I made our way to the taxi rank in the wee small hours.

As if that wasn't enough, our evening's entertainment continued when we joined the queue at the taxi rank. I could hardly contain myself when Woody held up his plastic gun and shouted to the line of vampires, evil doctors and zombies that he'd shoot any f****r that tried to skip him in the queue! The resulting laughter summed up the good natured frivolity that we'd been part of all night.

My thumping head cleared up in plenty of time today for another great wee choir gig that was supporting yet another really worthwhile cause (the local neo-natal unit). I don't think I was the only choir member that was suffering; some had been partying till late last night, some have been struggling with a flu-type virus that's going around and some had been singing at three other gigs over the course of the weekend! But, there we all were, doing our thing as usual; singing together, looking out at smiley faces and just enjoying being with our pals.

So, I'm knackered now. But I've had a great time - and you can't beat being happy knackered at the end of a good fun weekend.

Being taken for a mug then receiving an apology

I’ve been pretty busy since my last post – with things like a late-night choir gig, a two day trip down to London, a two day ASIST course, a choir rehearsal, a SAMS shift and work work – so I’m enjoying a night of doing absolutely nothing. OK, so I’m obviously not doing absolutely nothing as I’m sitting listening to some good tunes and writing my blog, but you get the jist! 

It’s really tempting to start from Friday and note down everything that’s made me feel good, but Alex and Gordon will be back home from training soon and I promised myself I’d be finished on the computer by the time they arrived back. So, I’ll pick out one little thing. It’s the sort of little thing that doesn’t happen all that often, it’s pretty simple but it made me feel great. Basically, what happened was that this young guy sat me down, looked me straight in the eye then sincerely apologised for trying to deceive me... 

I’d booked the hotel, that we stayed in down in London, through one of those last minute websites and had managed to get a brilliant deal for a deluxe room in a really nice place. It had the added attraction of being just a few minutes walk from the Saturday night function – the thing we’d travelled down to London for – and was just up the road from Covent Garden. The function was The Champion’s Life Academy Award Ceremony and we had a fantastic night. CLA’s the company that Gemma worked for during the summer and this was an opportunity for the employees to get some recognition and awards for their efforts and achievement. It was especially lovely to meet Gemma’s friends and it became clear why they’d all worked, and lived, so well together as a team. I hadn’t quite grasped how much money they’d all raised for some really worthwhile causes, so Alex and I were extremely proud to see Gemma and her pals collect the ‘Top Team’ award. She received other accolades throughout the evening, but that was the one that meant the most. So, all her hard work and long hours over the 12 week summer period were definitely well worth it! 

I knew that would happen! I’ve digressed. Back to the receptionist at the hotel. So, while he was going through the usual gumph that’s required when checking in, he asked if we would like to upgrade to a junior suite for a discounted price. I politely refused and said we’d settle for the deluxe room at our bargain price, thank you very much. He plithered about on the computer, smiling and chatting all the time, then excused himself while he ‘sorted something out’ in the back office. When he came back, he handed us our keys and wished us a pleasant stay. “Oh!” he said as we were about to walk away, “there might be someone from housekeeping in your room; they’re just finishing it off at the moment.”  

We opened the door (using the slidy key card, in complete contrast to our Glenskirlie key) and walked in, expecting to see – at the very least – a nice, big double bed and a bit of floor space. But there wasn’t. Not a double bed and not any floor space. Instead, there was the tiniest wee bed in the corner (in complete contrast to our Glenskirlie bed) with one set of pillows. There was one glass at the side of the bed, there was one cup by the kettle and there was one set of towels in the wee bathroom. This was a single room. ‘Och’, I thought, ‘they’ve made a wee mistake’. So, I phoned down and reminded our friendly receptionist that we were supposed to be in a double room.

“But madam, you are in a double room!”

“Sorry?!”

“Room 307 is definitely a deluxe double room. I know exactly which room you're in and it's definitely a deluxe double room.”

“Do you think I button up the back? This isn't even a double room, never mind a deluxe double room!”

“Please, madam, you are definitely in a deluxe double room – but since you're unhappy I will check to see if any other rooms are available and call you back in a moment.”

Just as I put the phone down, there was a knock on the door. Alex opened it  to find the lady from housekeeping standing in the corridor, laden down with a set of pillows, a glass, a cup and a set of towels.

“Hello sir. Sorry to disturb you. I’ve been told to make this single room into a double room. I’ve to put these things in. Is it OK to come in?”

Aw man, it was perfect timing!

When the receptionist called back, I interrupted and spared him the misery of trying to convince us again – as he'd started to do – that we were definitely in a double room by telling him that the maid had just arrived and confirmed that we were definitely in a single room. Silence on the line was followed by a request for us to stay put while he organised for a porter to escort us to another room.

The big room we ended up in was lovely (think it was bigger than the deluxe we'd paid for!) but I was pretty angry that the guy had tried to shaft us. Anyone who knows me well knows that I won’t hesitate to complain – in the nicest possible way - about bad service. So, when we were heading out later, I made a bee-line for our receptionist and made it clear how disappointed I was that he’d tried to deceive us. He immediately apologised and assured us that we would be looked after when we checked out the following morning. I was delighted that he’d held his hands up and apologised, instead of making up some cock-and-bull story; that alone was enough to make me feel better about what had happened and I told him so.

However, the following morning as we arrived at the check-out desk, our friend asked if he could have a word with us. He came out from behind the counter and led us over to comfy chairs in the corner. Now, I have to be honest and admit that, at that moment, I was thinking “Ya beauty! We’re going to get a free night or something!!” However, what we actually got was something far better. He looked me straight in the eye and said:

“I am so, so sorry about the way I treated you yesterday. I got myself in a muddle because when you arrived I realised there were no deluxe double rooms left. I tried to get you to take the suite, then I decided to put you in a single dressed up as a double. I’m so sorry. I don’t usually take my work home with me, but I was thinking about this all of last night and I’m just really embarrassed and quite ashamed. I’ve learned a lot from this. I’ll not be doing anything like it again.”

Now, I know there’ll be folk reading this thinking, ‘Yeh, right! He was still at it and just said all that to placate you’. Well, I honestly don’t think it was like that at all. I really believed him – and so did Alex. He didn’t need to speak to me about it again. He’d apologised the day before and he could just have handed us our discounted bill and been done with it. I thought it took a lot of guts to sit opposite me, in a big plush foyer with lots of people milling around, and say all of that. I told him I was touched that he’d taken the time to speak to me so personally...then I asked what discount we were getting...nah, I'm only kidding! He actually offered that information without me having to ask.

 
So, we had a fantastic (cheap) weekend away and it made me feel great that a nice young man had the decency to apologise in such a personal and honest way for trying to treat me like a mug. 

Enjoying being a SAM

During last night’s twilight shift at Samaritans, me and my fellow on-duty SAM were chatting about how difficult it sometimes is to think of the best way to describe how being a Samaritan makes us feel. 

When anyone asks me, “So how is it, working for Samaritans?”, I usually respond with a cheerful, “Oh, I really enjoy it!”.... Before the words have even dropped out of my mouth, I already have a sense that the person asking the question is going to raise their eyebrows and be a wee bit surprised by my answer! However, if I’m being totally honest, that really is how I feel.  

Last night, after leaving the house at 10, I really did enjoy spending 4 hours in the wee duty room; blethering to my colleague, catching up on some SAMS reading material, answering the phones and just being there for callers. I also enjoyed the drive home; I love that middle-of-the-night thing of belting out my favourite playlist to a deserted (give or take the odd Eddie Stobbart lorry) M9! And, because the house was baltic when I got home, I thoroughly enjoyed crawling in beside - and getting a sleepy hug from - a very cosy Alex! 

According to my big Chambers dictionary, the definition of enjoy is: “to find pleasure in something; to experience, and have the benefit of, something good”.

So, I guess that settles it then; I really do very much enjoy being a Samaritan.

Wishing Heart of Scotland Choir a Happy First Birthday

To be sung to the tune of Flower of Scotland:

O Heart of Scotland
Today’s the day
That you are one
So Ha-appy Birthdaaay
To members all and one
Who stand together (WITH WHO?)
Our o-own wee sections
To sing for the choir
With all our chums.

One year has passed now

And many gigs have come and gone
Like Wallace and Bertie
The castle and BBC One
We stood together (WITH WHO?)
Our own wee sections
To sing for the choir
With all our chums.

What lies ahead now?

What dizzy heights
Can we attain?
And how much more special
Could be our Annie and Jane?
We stand together (WITH WHO?)
Our own wee sections
To sing for the choir
With all our chums.

O Heart of Scotland

Today’s the day
That you are one
So Ha-appy Birthdaaay
To members all and one
Who stand together (WITH WHO?)
Our own wee sections
To sing for the choir
With all our chums.

Staying in a castle and singing for a minister

I’m beginning to wonder if I should change the name of my blog to ‘Some of the things that’ve made me feel good over this past week or so!’ as I’ve never yet managed to achieve my original intention, of writing a post every day. When I leave it too long, I struggle to decide what ‘thing’ I should write about. Today, therefore, I’m mulling over a couple of different things that’ve made me feel good since my last post.

Alex and I had a lovely wee night away last Thursday using a gift voucher for a local House Hotel that we were given ages ago. Glenskirlie House used to be just a restaurant but, since our last visit many years ago, the owners have extended the main house and also built a hotel - in the style of a castle  - on the grounds. It’s kind of weird; the castle looks old, but it’s new. It’s a new castle.

Our room had a big, made-to-look-old wooden door that you opened with a real key - none of that plastic slidey card nonsense - so we were fair excited as we turned the key in the lock, not knowing what to expect. We were hoping for a classy turret-style room with wooden furniture and a four-poster bed....instead, we couldn’t help laughing out loud when we walked into a room that reminded us of a hotel we’d stayed in (many moons ago) in Eurodisney! The kids had loved it, with its big cartoon-style furniture and bold, bright colours. Well, this room wasn’t quite as Disney cartoon-ish as that, but it wasn’t far away! The room was quite small but the bed was huge and it had a massive ornate headboard and loads of cushions, placed very precisely, in front of the pillows. I was kind of expecting a pair of eyes to flash open from the headboard and the bed to stand up on two legs and give us a welcoming song and dance! Four of the cushions had letters of the alphabet on them and were placed carefully to spell out ‘L’ ‘O’ ‘V’‘E’. Awww, how sweet we thought ..... until we turned them over to discover that the cushions now spelled out ‘H’’A’’T’’E’!!  I’m guessing it’s a kind of novel way of getting the ‘Yes, I’m up for it/NO, not tonight Darling’ message across!

That kind of set the scene for the rest of our stay; we had a good laugh, ate lots of nice food, drank far too much wine and just really enjoyed having a night and day off work to spend a bit of time all to ourselves. Many things have changed during the past 30 years since I first started going out with Alex, but how much I absolutely love being with him has stayed reassuringly the same.

There were lots of lovely people in the audience of the wee gig we did last night that have also clearly been together for a long, long time. We rehearse in a church in Cambusbarron and the minister, Reverend Webster, is a great fan of the choir. Our set list couldn’t be further removed from the type of songs that a traditional choir would sing, but he’s been so supportive and happy for us to rehearse in the church. The closest that me and the other non-religious choir members have come to being struck by lightning was when one of the light bulbs went up in flames during a recent rehearsal; but I’m sure that was more down to dodgy electrics than God’s angry finger! Anyway, last night the choir sang at the minister’s surprise retirement do in the local community hall and it was such a great, heart-warming wee gig. Reverend Webster was surrounded by his family, friends and many of his parishioners. It was clear that they’re all very fond of him and that he’ll be sorely missed. It was also clear that many of the elderly folks in the audience had been together as couples, friends or church-goers for many years. It was just so touching to look out at them all - sitting alongside the many younger folk in the hall who were also there to say goodbye to their minister and bode him well in his retirement – smiling, clapping and showing their warm appreciation for both the choir’s set and Reverend Webster’s poignant wee speech at the end of our performance. After thanking us for coming along he told his congregation, so eloquently, what the lucky members of Heart of Scotland know already; that we’re so much more than just a singing group. He pointed out that we’re a community full of members who look out for and care for each other – just like his church community – and that Annie and Jane really have brought something special to the very heart of Central Scotland. The choir’s going to be singing in Oran Mor in Glasgow next week, at Stirling’s Christmas Light Switch-On, at Falkirk’s big bonfire night and firework display, at Stirling’s Albert Halls in our own concert and at the Stirling Hogmanay Concert in Stirling Castle – but, the buzz that I felt last night in Cambusbarron’s community hall will take some beating!

I’m sure that many things will change during the however many years that I’m lucky enough to spend being a member of the choir, but I’m pretty sure that how much I love being with my choir family will stay reassuringly the same.

Simply being at choir

I was a bit harassed before I left for choir rehearsal earlier. I’m sure it’s much the same for most members of the group; some come straight from work, some have to sort out last-minute babysitting arrangements, some rush straight there from Uni ... there’s a whole load of reasons why it might be a bit of a mad dash to get along to practice on a Monday evening. For me on this occasion, the reason was a fairly testing and difficult Samaritans shift that ran on a bit late but, as ever, I’m so glad that I did make it along. Being at choir simply always makes me feel good.

I think I’ll just let this recording – of our first attempt at the new arrangement we learned tonight - do the talking for a wee change .....

Another running season and crappy TV

When my wellies are being dug out of the garage, my waterproof socks (yes, you can get waterproof socks) and woolly hat are being dragged to the front of the drawer and my trusty old ski-jacket’s getting hauled out from the back of the wardrobe, it can only mean one thing; cross country running season’s started again! It’s that time of year when I spend at least one day of most weekends trudging around a muddy field cheering on my mad husband and my equally mad son as they race around a cross country route somewhere or another with a load of other equally mad runners, and yesterday saw a pretty normal start to the season in Dundee’s Camperdown Park; lots of rain, lots of mud and lots of mad runners to cheer on.  

One of the best things about cross country events is the pleasure I get from curling up in front of the fire and vegetating – without any guilt as I’ve been walking around outside all day - in front of Saturday night telly when we come home. Having said that, the telly’s usually rubbish on a Saturday night; especially that X Factor. It’s so contrived, it’s just really annoying blah, blah, blah – but there I was last night (and not for the first time..) sitting watching it. How does it manage to draw me in?! I spend most of the time X Factor's on shouting at the telly! Last night was particularly bad as some of my favourite songs were ruined by ridiculous cover versions. I know what you're probably thinking; why didn't I just change the channel? I don't know - I guess once the X Factor's got it's hooks in, I'm trapped!

I suppose there were a few good performances last night, especially the one from the wee Irish girl who seemed to have escaped the ruinous touch of the X Factor production team and just stood in the middle of the stage, looking pretty natural and normal, singing a beautiful version of Coldplay’s ‘Fix You’. I really hope they continue to let her just be herself but, sadly, I don’t think that’ll be the case. And, now that I think about it, the girl who sang ‘Rolling In The Deep’ had a pretty awesome voice too (though she’d been dressed up like something from my kids’ school’s Trash Fashion Show). And I did quite like the guy that sang ‘Ticket to Ride’; he was a bit wobbly in parts, but I really liked his voice and I suppose it was a nice change to the original version....agh, just listen to me! What is it about that bloody programme? I hate the whole concept, but I just can’t help getting drawn in to it... it’s so annoying! I need to just stop watching it! Let’s move on.

Today involved spectating and running again. Gemma competed, just for fun, in a 5k just outside St Andrews. It’s the first time she’s competed for a few years and I’m really proud of her for giving it a go. And, she couldn’t have picked a better event to gently break herself back in; the race was organised by Fife Athletic Club – the best club in Scotland for post-race tea and cakes! (As told on my Tour of Fife post!) Me, Alex and Ross, meanwhile, spent the morning in Kirkintilloch at the Neil McCover Memorial Half Marathon. (Yup, a few miles cross country yesterday and thirteen and a half miles on the roads today; mad.) It was another wet – and very windy – day, so the old ski jacket was pulled back on and the waterproof mascara was re-applied. As ever though, it was worth it. A good brisk walk around in the rain, a nice bunch of folk to chat to, a great deal of pride and pleasure in cheering son and hubbie across the finish line – what better way to spend a Sunday morning?!

And, one of the nicest things about getting out of bed at the crack of dawn to trudge around supporting the boys is the treat that awaits me at home; curling up in front of the fire and vegetating in front of crappy Sunday night telly. In fact, does anyone know what time the X Factor Results show starts....

Celebrating more certificates

I love gummy sweeties, so Alex couldn’t have picked a better pressie to mark the completion of Module Three of my counselling course than the two packets of M&S Percy Pigs he brought home from work last night! (The wee bottle of bubbly went down a treat too but, mmmmm, Percy Pigs...) One more module to go and I’ll have the full Certificate under my belt, then I can - at last - think about moving on to the Diploma. But that’s for next year; today it was just a big relief to get my marked assignment back, do the dreaded presentation of our assignment then be awarded my Module pass.

As if that wasn’t enough excitement for one day, it was a double celebration as Gordon was presented with his Bronze Duke of Edinburgh Award at school later on in the evening. We had such a lovely time and I, not for the first time since way back when Gemma first started there, was reminded how great our local High School’s been for my kids. The pupils had all prepared wee talks about their experiences - which they presented in groups before receiving their awards - and I was so very proud of Gordon. He just made it look so ridiculously easy. I mean, there was me earlier on in the day; knees knocking, hands shaking, sweat dripping, voice trembling – when all I had to do was sit in front of a small group of fellow students and my tutor and deliver a ten minute presentation on my assignment. It was such a relief when it was over. On the other hand, tonight, there was Gordon; striding confidently up to the front of the hall, leading his wee group in the talk, wearing a big smiley face, not having shaky hands, keeping his head up, speaking loudly and clearly, making the hall full of parents, teachers and fellow students laugh, working the remote for the accompanying slide show, helping the rest of the group with their wee bits...and, best of all, making his Duke of Edinburgh experience sound fun and exciting, when he actually didn’t really enjoy it all that much at all! Aw, I was just so proud and I wish I had half his confidence!

We rounded off the night with a carry out curry accompanied by the dregs of the bubbly. A lovely way to finish a good day – and, just to top it off, there's still one packet of Percy Pigs left in the cupboard....

Another rite of passage

I’ve been thinking a lot about my Dad today. It’s coming up to eighteen years since he died, but the longing to have him back still occasionally hits just as hard now as it did all those years ago. Apart from being with his family, there was nothing my Dad loved more than having a pint and a blether, so it was especially poignant - on what would’ve been my Dad’s 75^th birthday - to watch Alex and Ross heading out the door earlier for their first pint together down the local. If Dad had still been here, he’d definitely have been looking for an invite! I can actually picture him; walking in to the pub, grinning as he proudly tells everyone that this is a special occasion then raising his glass to toast Ross turning eighteen and being out for his first pint with his Dad and his Papa. That was just my Dad’s kind of thing.

Anyway, after having a great day catching up with Ross during his flying visit home, it was really lovely to watch him and his auld Dad head out earlier. Alex and Ross have shared plenty of beers before now, but now out in the pub. It's another rite of passage that brought a wee lump to my throat and a big, happy smile to my face.

Coming out....

I’ve mentioned a few times that I do some voluntary work through in Falkirk on a fairly regular basis but I’ve never actually said what that work involves. However, last night I was really chuffed when I was presented with a wee certificate that signals the end of nine months as a trainee and marks my accreditation as a fully qualified Samaritan.

It’s not all that long since SAMS weren’t encouraged to reveal to anyone – apart from their families – what they were doing when they skulked off into the night (or day, or early morning!) for a shift. But sensibly, in my opinion, that’s all changed and the decision whether or not to disclose their Samaritan status is very much left up to the individual volunteer. Only my family and a few of my friends knew that I was training to be - then working under supervision as - a Samaritan, but I’d always intended being totally open about it once I’d fully qualified. I think there’s far too much secrecy, stigma and hush surrounding the issue of emotional distress and mental health as it is; the more open we can all be about it, and the more we talk about the help that’s on offer - in my humble opinion - the better.

One of the arguments against ‘coming out of the closet’ as a SAM is that it might put friends or family members off phoning for fear of hearing a familiar voice. Well, the chances of that happening are extremely slim - mainly because callers aren’t always put through to their local branch and, if they were, there are so many different volunteers working so many different shifts that there’s only a pretty remote chance that the person answering the phone would be someone the caller knew. If it did happen, the person would be assured that their call would be treated with the utmost privacy and, of course, they would be offered the opportunity to speak to another volunteer. One of things that Samaritans pride themselves on is the complete and utterly confidential, safe space they provide for anyone who needs to talk.

Anyway, it is still a valid reason for some volunteers to choose to keep quiet about being a SAM, but it’s not reason enough for me. I think the positive aspects of being open about working as a Samaritan far outweigh the reasons for keeping it a secret.

One of the most important of these is the opportunity to spread the word that SAMS are just ordinary folk; ordinary folk from all walks of life who've been through a long – and pretty intense – training process, who will listen to people without judging, who won’t interrupt inappropriately and won’t offer their own experiences or opinions or advice, who won’t divulge anything to anybody outside of SAMS and will allow anyone - anyone at all - who’s feeling really low, or upset, or depressed, or confused, or worried, or sad, or is grieving, or is manic, or has financial problems ... well, I think you get the picture... the time and space just to talk. It’s a bit of an urban myth that it’s only people who are thinking about committing suicide that phone Samaritans. The vast majority of calls are from people who are in some sort of emotional distress, but only a relatively small percentage (20%) of those calls are from people who are already either actively suicidal or  are having suicidal thoughts. The idea is to, hopefully, help prevent some people actually getting to that stage just by lending an ear.

So, these ordinary folk – who aren’t there as doctors or psychoanalysists or financial advisors or bereavement counsellors or any other kind of specialist – basically just offer a friendly (though well-trained) ear. It’s been shown time and again that listening to someone, unconditionally, can help to reduce their distress; no matter what kind of state of mind they’re in. Offering a friendly ear (that isn’t linked to any kind of religious organisation – another urban myth surrounding the Samaritans) is precisely what the Samaritans do, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week – and it makes me feel great, after a lot of training, mentoring and building up of experience, to be able, at last, to call myself a fully qualified SAM.

Oh, by the way, once I step out of that duty room, I’m just plain Jane again; so, there may well be times that I don't give my full attention to a story, or times that I inappropriately interrupt when someone’s pouring their heart out, and I might even glaze over when someone goes on a bit (sorry Alex!) - for all of that, I apologise in advance! But, I do like to think that what drew me to Samaritans in the first place - being told that I'm a good listener and wanting to put that to good use - will always be with me to some extent, both inside the duty room and out!

Realising it's time to stop stop stop stop sobbing!

There are lots of things that are bad about social networking sites but, for every one of those things, there does tend to be something else that's good. We'll say that anyway as it helps to justify – in my mind – logging onto Facebook on a fairly regular basis! One of those good things is the warm, fuzzy feeling you get when one of your friends either drops you a wee message or posts you a wee link to cheer you up when you’re feeling a bit down. Back in the olden days, we would’ve lifted the phone or written a letter – but the sentiment’s just the same either way.

Now - as I might just have mentioned recently - I’m feeling pretty sad at the moment. However, some of the messages and other such things that my pals have been sending through texts, emails and Facebook have really cheered me up (maybe only for a few brief moments - as I’m not quite ready to stop wallowing yet - but they’ve cheered me up all the same!). One of these, a message and link that my friend Sue posted (onto my Facebook wall), not only made me smile, but also made me realise that it’s time to stop talking about my tears! So, here’s the link, along with a promise to stop any more stories of my maudlin feelings over Ross moving out. It’s time to get a grip, publicly at least!

Knowing this feeling'll pass

This time two years ago, I was struggling to cope with the fact that the first of my kids had just moved out. Now, when I say struggling to cope, I don’t mean that I was a complete emotional wreck and unable to function on a day-to-day basis! But, I did have a terrible aching heart, I did keep bursting into tears and it did take me quite a while to get used to the fact that my eighteen year old wee girl no longer lived at home.  I remember feeling really guilty about feeling so bad, and thinking that it was totally ridiculous that I was so upset. I remember thinking that many of my friends and family members had had to deal with much more awful things in their lives and that I was being pathetic and should pull myself together! But I simply couldn’t help how I felt. So, I kept myself to myself for a wee while  – just for a few days – and indulged myself in big dollops of self-pity while mourning the loss of the all-under-the-same-roof stage of my wee family's life. It was important not to let Gemma know how upset I was so, when I spoke to her on the phone, I made sure I sounded happy and excited to hear about all her new friends in her new environment; I genuinely was happy and excited for her, but mixed in with that was a big dod of sadness that had no place in our chit-chats! However, it wasn’t too long before my mood lifted and we'd all adjusted to the change.

One of the positive things to come with Gemma’s departure was the realisation that it was time for me to do something more constructive with the time that I used to devote to the kids and all their bits and bobs. I suppose it was a fairly typical response to the clichéd ‘empty-nest’ syndrome but, whatever it was, it led to such things as studying with the Open University, devoting more time to writing, working as a volunteer with two fantastic organisations, doing a counselling skills course, joining a choir (which is so much more to me than just a choir), keeping up (just) with work work and meeting loads of lovely and interesting people – some of whom have become very special friends – along the way. I’m still not sure where I’m going with all these things, but I’m certainly enjoying the ride!

So, you’d think that this time around, now that it’s Ross’s turn to flee the coup, I’d be better equipped - both emotionally and practically - to deal with his departure. Bollocks. Yesterday I had a lump in my throat as Gemma drove out of the driveway to head back to Uni; I’m used to her going now, but sometimes the little lump still catches me unawares. A few hours later - after a big, painful hug, with no last words from me for fear of the flood-gates opening - Ross also drove off in his wee car, laden with the things that we didn’t move in to his flat last week when he got the keys. Alex and Gordon stood with me out on the drive to wave him off and I thought I was going to burst as the three men that I love most in the world laughed and joked with a last minute bit of banter. And then he was away. Not to another country, or another planet, just to Glasgow. But my boy had moved out, had moved away from home.

I’ve cried a lot since Ross left – but this time I don’t feel guilty, and I don’t mind if anyone were to think it was ridiculous. I know we have to deal with much, much worse things in our lives than dealing with the emotions that come along with our kids moving away from home, and I know – from valuable past experience – that the way I’m feeling now will soon pass. However, I think it’s OK to indulge yourself in a bit of grief for the loss of something that you’ve loved very much for the past eighteen years; your boy living under the same roof as you.

This time around I’m not battening down the hatches; I worked at the hospice this morning, did a load of work work this afternoon and had a brilliant night at choir (even though I did have to keep swallowing hard!). There’s absolutely no shame in feeling sad along with happy, excited and proud when your kids move out of the house. That’s another important thing that I’ve learned during the past couple of years.

Ross is settling in really well so far – which is absolutely the most important thing in all of this – and, in about ten minutes from now, he’ll be walking in to the student union as a legal drinker. So, I’d better finish this off and go get ready to phone my brilliant son. He might be away from home, but that doesn’t mean that his auld maw can’t be first to wish him a very loving, very excited and very Happy 18^th Birthday on the stroke of midnight...and I’ll obviously be making sure the tears are saved for bedtime!

Mum and her Tesco vouchers

My mum has always played a big part in her grandchildren’s lives and, even though they’re practically all grown up now, she still gets a lot of pleasure out of doing ‘Gran’ things with them. One of those things involves the relinquishing of her hard-earned Tesco vouchers!

On Monday it was Ross’s turn to do the rite of passage visit to the big Tesco in Cumbernauld with Gran to shop for some of the stuff he needs for moving in to his student flat. I tagged along - doing my very best not to interfere, but having to, just occasionally, stick my neb in – and smiled as I listened to my mum and my son debate the merits of such things as a pyrex measuring jug over a plastic one, or a frying pan over a wok, or a fish slice over a spatula. All essential items, of course, for a Fresher at Uni...

Seriously though, it was a lovely way to spend a Monday lunchtime and a nice start to our preparations for Ross’s move. It just seems like no time at all since Mum was taking the kids away for a play in the park, and I love that my lot (and her other grandchildren) still enjoy spending time with her ... whether she’s spoiling them with her Tesco vouchers, plying them with her home-baking or calling on them for help with her mobile phone!  Yup, my auld maw's been - and continues to be - a great wee Gran, and we're all so lucky to have her.

Getting Ross home from hospital and a great night out

One fleeting thought that crossed my mind on Friday afternoon, while sitting beside Ross as he lay on a bed in the Clinical Assessment Unit of our local hospital, was that I was probably going to miss the choir night out. I know that must sound bad - but it was only because I’d been there for a few hours, and Ross was nodding off, that my mind started to wander! Up until then, all I could think about was the ramifications for Ross if his blood tests came back confirming the doctor’s suspicion that an appendectomy was necessary.

After Ross received his Highers results last summer, knowing that he had all that he needed to get into Uni, he decided to leave school and work for a year before he started his course.  So, for the past 12 months he’s been working for St James’s Place in the big Prudential offices; a well-known Stirling landmark. He’s gained valuable work experience, saved up some cash to help him out at Uni and was lucky enough to be working with a great team of people. Friday was his last day at work, which should’ve been spent enjoying a bit of banter with his lovely team of workmates followed by a wee leaving ‘do’; instead, it was his first day off sick. Talk about bad timing! Excruciating pain on his right side had led the GP to send him straight to hospital, and that’s how we found ourselves waiting on blood results after an examination by the surgeon.

Missing his last day of work was bad enough, but even worse was the prospect of missing Fresher’s Week, missing the start of his new course at Uni and - more importantly, as far as Ross was concerned - not being able to run at the start of the cross country season! While we were waiting on the results, Ross’s colour gradually started to return and the pain started to dull. We were delighted when the results came back as negative for appendicitis, but frustrated that no clear conclusion could be given as to what had caused the severe discomfort. The results showed a slightly higher than expected result for something to do with his liver (I can’t remember exactly what the surgeon called it), so the diagnosis of a possible gall bladder issue was suggested. He’s to go for further blood tests next week to see if they can shed any further light. The doctor told him not to worry – he thought it was possibly a wee stone that would probably pass into his large intestine and give him no further bother – especially as he’s so young. We’re kind of going with that at the moment as the severe pain and general yucky feeling had gone by the middle of the evening. He’s still got a bit of discomfort in his side – but we’re hoping that’s just been caused by a bit of irritation or something. Anyway, fingers crossed, all’s going to be well for him having a week of getting ready for the off before being able to throw himself fully into Fresher’s Week.

Getting back to my drifting thoughts while I was sitting by Ross’s bedside, it had occurred to me that I'd have to miss the choir night out if Ross had to have an operation. However, his good night’s sleep on Friday night followed by a good day on Saturday, with no hint of any severe pain, meant that I could head out without worrying too much. Strict instructions were left at home to call me if necessary (Ross would’ve had a fit if he’d know that I had my phone on the table and kept checking it every ten minutes or so, as he just wanted me to go out and enjoy myself and stop making a fuss – but it’s hard to switch off those mother-hen worry hormones!) .

As far as the night itself was concerned; you know how you have good nights out, and you have GREAT nights out? Well, the choir’s was a GREAT night out; great company, a good wee boogie, lovely grub and a room full of fantastic singers taking turns on the karaoke machine – brilliant! And, I managed to shake off a bit of a gremlin. A bit of Dutch courage late on in the night, and a bit of gentle encouragement from Colin (choir director Annie’s lovely husband), saw me standing with the mike singing a wee song. I felt a bit of a numpty because everyone else had just got up and sang and enjoyed themselves, without appearing to be at all nervous. I just hadn’t had the courage to do that.  And when I did change my mind and decide to have a go, I still tried to bottle out at the last minute by trying to get Gordon to come and sing with me! For every bit of confidence I was lacking, he had more in bucket-loads. Gordon had already been up on the wee stage, giving it laldy – just as we all do at home when we’re having a sing-song - but his ability to just relax and entertain was matched in equal measure by my reluctance to have a go! However, I did end up singing on my own; my hands and legs were shaking and I was sweating buckets – I don’t think I’ve felt that nervous since I sat my Grade One piano exam as a quivering thirty five year old wreck (that’s another story for another day..!) But in the end, I did sing the whole song - with some much-appreciated encouragement from the wee group that were still left, including Alex - and stepped off the platform with a real sense of having hurdled a big barrier. I know that some of my friends who’ve known me for years – especially those who’ve sometimes had to fight to get the beer bottle off me at sing-song time – would find it hard to believe that I was so nervous about doing something they all know I love to do; just to sing. I think I was getting too hung up on hitting the odd bum note or three – I think I naively thought that doing that in your living room is different from doing it with the choir peeps. It really brought it home to me last night that that’s not the case at all. It’s really just the same thing. It’s being with a bunch of good pals, letting your hair down and having some fun. And, what’s the odd bum note between pals?!

So, the last couple of days have been a mixture of worry, relief and fun. The most important thing is that Ross is OK and - fingers well and truly crossed - he’s going to be fighting fit for moving through to Glasgow next week. We’re off out for a whole big family meal later as Ross and his cousin are both leaving for Uni soon. It promises to be a lovely way to end what, thankfully, turned out to be a great weekend.

Being with inspirational people

I met an amazing lady last night. I was really tired (after sitting up till yon time the night before waiting on Gemma and Alex to arrive home safe and sound) so it was with some reluctance that I headed out the door at 10pm to do a late night shift. But, as is often the case when you’re not looking forward to something, it turned out to be a really good night, simply because of the lady I was working with.

Judy’s in her early sixties and she’s almost blind. She was telling me that she can still see a clear picture in her mind of the Optician’s face when, during a regular eye-test some years ago, he broke the news that there was something seriously wrong with her eyes. The actual details aren’t important here but, basically, it was confirmed soon after – during a hastily-arranged hospital appointment - that she would lose the sight in her left eye within a few months. She was also told that she would lose the sight in her right eye, but it was impossible to predict when that would be. Fairly quickly after that - she described it as someone slowly pulling a blind up – she became blind in one eye. You know when you’re in a swimming pool and you’ve got goggles on and you do that thing of slowly putting your head under the water. The water line on your goggles gradually separates the scene of noisy, splashing children above and the quiet, gentle slow leg movements underneath. From the way that Judy described it, I imagine it being a bit like that, except that the under-water for Judy was complete and solid darkness. The loss of sight in her right eye has, fortunately, been a slower process and she still has some – though very limited and hazy – vision in it.

While she was telling me this story in the wee small hours of last night, Judy was smiling and animated. She explained that once she got over the initial shock, she decided to think of her disability as a chance to discover new things and take a new direction in her life. So, most of her time nowadays is taken up raising awareness of the issues that face blind and partially sighted people and working for a charity that trains and provides canine support workers!  I was so touched when she said that the best thing about her blindness was the opportunity it gave her to meet a whole load of new people: “I’d still have been working in the rat race and never have dreamt of doing voluntary work – so I’d never have met you! So, lots of good things have come out of losing my sight.” I was just bowled over by her positive outlook and zest for life. What an inspiration.

And tonight, I met two amazing young girls. I was really tired (after getting home at 3am from my twilight shift this morning) so it was with some reluctance that I headed out the door this evening for a training session through in Falkirk. The session was pretty heavy going and I struggled to get my head round everything, not just because I was tired, but also because I was anxious about making it back to Stirling in time for a special fund-raising concert that the choir were performing in. Fortunately for me, we weren’t due on stage till 9 o’clock so, after sweet-talking the tutor into letting me leave early, I wellied it along the M9 and made it to the gig with 10 minutes to spare.

The concert was organised by two fantastic young teenage girls, Holly Brown and Madison Anderson, in order to raise money for the Eilidh Brown Memorial Fund. Eilidh died of cancer last March when she was just 15 years old. Her family and friends have raised – and continue to raise - a phenomenal amount of money in Eilidh’s name, in the hope that they’ll someday build a holiday home for other young cancer sufferers and their families.

I didn’t arrive in time to see any of the other acts but, according to Alex and Gemma (who were in the audience) there were some fabulous performances from a variety of young, local bands, dancers, singers and musicians. The choir were last on the list, so the crowd were well warmed up and it was just a brilliant wee gig. What made it even more special for me was the fact that we were performing on the stage in Stirling High School. All of my kids have been on that stage on numerous occasions as Stirling High’s their school! And, I’ve actually been on it once before too! It was in 2008 – not long after the new Stirling High School opened - and I was sitting nervously next to Alex. Both of us were all dressed up in our posh togs, alongside the Rector and some other High Heid Yins, watching Gemma getting presented with her Dux medal. So, it was just lovely to be back on that stage tonight, along with Gordon and all our choir friends, singing some songs at the invitation of young Holly and Madison to help raise money for such an extremely worthwhile cause.

I have to take a wee moment here to mention Gordon’s solo bit. I’ve gone on before, at length, about how delighted I am that the choir now sings Don’t Stop Me Now. Well, John – who usually sings one of the solo parts – couldn’t make it along tonight, so Annie asked Gordon to step in. Consequently, there was Gordon, up on the stage at his own school, in front of a sell-out audience – which was made up of many of his friends, his teachers, his Dad and his big sister – singing “I’m a sex machine, ready to reload, like an atom bomb, About to oh, oh, oh, oh, oh explode!!!” Now, I know I’m really biased, but, aw man, he did a brilliant job – and I was so proud!

Anyway, back to the girls. I was so impressed, both with the manner in which they conducted themselves and with the professional approach they’d taken to putting the concert together. I was bowled over by their enthusiasm and determination to find something positive and worthwhile to do in memory of Eilidh. What an inspirational pair.

So, thanks to Judy, Madison and Holly I’ve had a great couple of nights in the company of fantastic people. Now though, I’m off to my scratcher to catch up on some much-needed sleep - with a very big smile on my face!

A mixed bag of emotions

I’m all excited. Gemma’s on the road home (with her auld dad for company) after a 3 month stint working down south. I’m just so looking forward to having her back – even though it’ll only be for a week or so before she heads back up to Uni. To keep me occupied tonight, I’ve been writing up some of my notes and mulling over some of the things we learned on the course today, which included a bit of work on attachment theory. Quite a coincidence really, considering I’m full of mixed emotions at the moment which are all mostly related to attachment in some way, shape or form!

First, I’m just so happy that Gemma’s coming home. She’s had a productive and useful summer, gaining lots of valuable work and life experience and I’m extremely proud of her for doing so well. I wouldn’t have it any other way, as far as Gemma’s ‘get-up-and-go’ is concerned, in fact,  I wouldn’t dream of trying to stop any of my kids from venturing out into the big world, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel sad when they do make that break away. I’d find it hard to forgive myself if any of my kids felt they couldn’t get on with doing what they wanted to do with their adult lives for fear of my reaction or impositions. So, Gemma knows that I miss her when she’s away from home – but she also knows I’m happy for her to be away – and, getting back to the course, I like to think that our attachment bond is such that Gemma always knows she has a safe, unconditionally loving home to come back to at any time!

Second, I’m just so sad, but excited too, that Ross’s Fresher’s Week is only a week and a bit away. I’m happy that Ross is going off on the next stage of his journey – but I’m sad because I’m going to miss him so much. He’s only moving to Glasgow, but just because he’s not moving far doesn’t make the fact that he’s moving away from home any easier to contemplate! Me and Alex’ll really miss him. But, Ross knows that we’re proud, happy and excited for him too - and I like to think that our attachment bond is such that Ross will always know he has a safe and unconditionally loving home to come back to at any time! Even if it is just to bring his washing...!

Thirdly, I’m just so sad that an older member of our family has chosen to detach themselves from the rest of us. We did a wee exercise today that involved drawing Genograms; which are sort of stylised family trees where symbols are used to represent such things as relationships, gender and status. It was such a painful thing, even after all these years, for me to put a cross in the square that represented my Dad. Anyway, the other thing that I found really difficult was trying to decide how to symbolise a relative who’s chosen not to be part of the family anymore. It really made me stop and think about how sad it all really makes me feel. It feels like bereavement, but nobody’s died. It’s really not a nice feeling – and it’s especially difficult for my mum. However, I like to think that the attachment bond that Mum has to the rest of her family makes her feel safe, loved and secure in the knowledge that she’ll always have the rest of us to look out for and look out for her!

Lastly, I’m just so grateful that I live with someone who lets me share all these mixed emotions and - even if we don’t always feel the same way about things, or don’t always fully understand exactly how the other’s feeling - allows me the space and time to just go with however I’m feeling at the time. Some bloke called Khalil Gibran once said that, joy and sorrow “are inseparable. Together they come and when one sits, alone with you ... remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.” I like to think that the attachment bond I have to Alex is such that I’ll always have a safe and unconditionally loving place to let “joy” or “sorrow” – or guilt, or anger, or excitement, or whatever other emotion – come and sit with me without making me feeling rushed into pushing those feelings aside again (well, at least until it’s deemed time to get a grip..!)

Hm, that was all a bit of a ramble to get to the point of basically saying I have a lot of mixed emotions going on at the moment but tonight, excitement and anticipation have definitely left all the others tucked up in bed!

Singing another special song

I love Monday nights. No matter my mood, no matter what else is going on, no matter how harassed I am when I rush out the door, I know that by 7.35 on a Monday night I’ll be feeling great. Tonight was absolutely no different. Before I left, I was rushing to finish off some bits and pieces of work work and I was feeling guilty because I hadn’t finished all the reading I was supposed to do for my course up in Perth tomorrow. I even contemplated – for all of two seconds - not going out at all. However, I knew that the emotional benefit of going would far outweigh the practical benefits of staying at home! And I’m so glad I did; being a bit lost during the course tomorrow will be a small price to pay for the pleasure of being at choir tonight.

Every member of the choir, I’m sure, could tell a story about at least one of the songs we sing and why particular songs are particularly special for them. I’ve written about a few already (like ‘Fix You’, ‘Wonderful World’ and ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’) and tonight yet another of my favourites was added to the list.

Annie and Jane work hard together for the Heart of Scotland Choir, but it’s usually Annie that spends a lot of time putting the arrangements together before directing us and teaching us how to sing our parts. Tonight was totally different though, as Jane was taking a wee turn at doing the song, and what a song she chose for her choir reveal debut!

One night, many moons ago, Alex and I were in our local in Glasgow having a few beers when we should’ve been studying. ‘The Rock’, on Hyndland Road, was just round the corner from our digs when we were at Uni and it was just too easy to opt for a few hours in the pub rather than a few hours with our heads in the books! We’d not long moved in to our wee flat and we were slavering about how lucky we were to have parents that hadn’t completely disowned us for living together at such a young age! The pub was mobbed, there was a great buzz about the place, we were pretty well oiled (the air was very, very smoky!)  and the jukebox was belting out some great tunes. Just as I turned to Alex and said, "Maybe we should get engaged, it might make our Mums and Dads feel a bit happier about us buying the flat together?", and Alex replied, "That’s a great idea! OK, let’s get engaged!" the jukebox blared out ‘..Like a Bridge over Trou-u-bled Waters, I will ease your miiiiiiiii-iii-ii-ind.’ From that moment on, in the Milne family history books, ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ became “the song that was playing when Alex proposed” – even though it wasn’t really as he didn’t really! But, hey, why let the truth get in the way of a good story; the Simon and Garfunkel classic will forever be one of our special songs! Jane's arrangement couldn't have done it more justice and, once we've all got the hang of our parts, I reckon it's going to sound awesome.

The other lovely thing about tonight was that Jane dedicated the song to her mum, Ray, who sings with the choir. It was yet another poignant wee moment in the life of HoS and a reminder of the fact that the songs we sing can mean different things to different people - not only for those of us that are lucky enough to be in the choir singing, but also for the people who come along to listen when the choir performs.

So, I might be floundering a bit tomorrow when the tutor elaborates on the psychodynamic theories that I was supposed to read up on tonight, but at least come next Monday’s rehearsal I’ll, hopefully, have a good grasp of the lower harmony part of a fantastic song - the one that was playing when Alex proposed....

Feeling good being with someone who usually makes me feel bad....

Unfortunate timing means that by this time tomorrow I’ll have been on three different training courses within five days; a one-day training session for one of my voluntary roles, the first two days of my Module Three COSCA course, and a one-day course at the Hospice. As a result, my head’s a wee bit puggled tonight and I’m struggling to string even a few words together, but something happened that made me feel so good, I just had to scribble it down.

You know how we all have porcupines in our lives? You know the kind of folk I mean? No matter how happy, excited or optimistic we’re feeling when we bump into them, by the time we’ve parted company our bubble’s been well and truly burst by their spiky cynicism.  Well, I bumped into someone tonight whose attitude has affected me in precisely that way for years and I’m so chuffed that I managed to walk away this time with my bubble well and truly and firmly intact! I’m not sure why I was better equipped to resist the comments that would, in times gone by, have upset me, dented my confidence or spoiled my mood but - whatever the reason - our little encounter left me feeling great!

Someone once said: “a cynic can chill and dishearten with a single word”, which pretty much sums up the effect that this person used to have on me. I don’t think they ever will again though; surely once you’ve come through the attack of a porcupine with a smile still securely planted on your face, you’ve set yourself up to resist future bubble-bursting attempts?! And, if I do find myself wavering the next time, it'll be well worth remembering what someone else once said: “Watch what people are cynical about and we can often discover what they lack.....”

Enjoying first day moments and memories

One of the great things about having a mixed bag of friends - some of whom have no children and some of whom have children who are at completely different stages from your own - is that you’re less likely to get too blinkered and self-absorbed with everything that's going on in your own, or your own kids', lives at any given time. 

During the past week or so, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed hearing about - and looking through lots of cute photos of – some of my friends’ kids as they set off on their first day at school. It’s such a special occasion, and a pretty emotional time for most parents, though, it’s worth remembering that the whole buzz around 'first day' also creates a difficult and painful set of emotions for the many women who either can’t have children or who've lost a child. And, it can also be a pretty irritating time for women who’ve chosen not to have kids!

One of my volunteer-work colleagues said to me recently that August is the worst month of the year for childless-through-choice women! After patiently listening to me enthuse about all the photos I'd just been looking at on Facebook of various friends' kids first day at either Primary or High School, my colleague said,  “I hate August. It's not only those dreaded words 'Would you like to see some photos..?' that I hate. First, we have to listen to all sorts of fretting over impending Higher and Standard Grade exam results, then we have to Congratulate or Commiserate depending on the actual results received, then we have to ‘ooh and aahh’ over all the ‘first day at school’ photos and then we have to listen to the emotional wrecks who can’t cope with the idea of their grown-up children leaving home for Uni or college or a new job! I hate August!".

She made me laugh, but I guess she did have a point. Still, I know plenty of other women who don't have children of their own, but love to spend time with, or show off photos of, their neices or nephews or their friends' kids.

I guess the point I'm trying to make is that spending time with a variety of different folk keeps you grounded and is a constant reminder that there are always important things going on in other people's lives too - it's good to be reminded that the world doesn’t always have to revolve around us or our own children. (Nope, it doesn't - honest!) 

Speaking of my own children, I’m psyching myself up at the moment for the next big change in our family; Ross moving out for Uni. I’m at the stage of welling up every time I think about it - don't get me wrong, I'm extremely happy and excited and looking forward to this next stage in his life blah, blah - but that doesn't stop me from feeling sad and thinking about how much I'll miss him too. Our family's 'first day at school' experiences seem such a long time ago now (probably because they were..!) and I still can't quite believe that we're now well-and-truly at the 'first day at Work/Uni/Some Other Grown Up Thing' stage! I've got a treasured set of photographs chronicling our 'first day at school' journey - from the first picture of wee Gemma standing out in our garden in her P1 uniform, smiling and raring to go to school, to the last picture of big Gordon standing in the house in his 5^th Year uniform, impatiently smiling and ... not quite raring to go to school! In between, there are thirteen other photos making up the set; including some with just one or two of my kids in their Primary school uniforms, some with a mixture of high school and primary school uniforms, and some with all three in high school gear. Treasured memories indeed. In fact, I just wondered, would you like to see some photos..........?!

No matter what age the kids are, and whether only one, two, or all three of them are going, first days - or first days back - have always been special in the house of Milne!