What's it all about Alfie?

Feel like I'm walking backwards, what is it all about?  Went for an interview at the Museum yesterday, walked amongst the dinosaurs, looked at the fossils and rocks and stuffed monkeys and shrunken heads.
The interview went well, so I don't know if I got the job or not, usually when it goes well, I haven't. But it was interesting and the interviewers were lovely. I am trying to get over my bout of homesickness and looking forward to moving to the next place. At least we can decorate and do things to it.

I have got to stop overthinking things - I have an IQ of 148, but the downside of that is that my mind doesn't rest it doesn't know how to.  Perhaps wandering through the Jurassic period during the day is what I need to stop me obsessing about things I can do nothing about.

The writing is going well I have more leads to research and IF I get the job at the museum I can afford to pay the poverty stricken Paul Getty to use some of his images for my book!! Yes sarcasm!!

Cornwall again

Not feeling well today again, sick, aching, breathless. I want to be back in Cornwall to see the beautiful ocean rolling greeny blue and jelly like into the distance.  I want to go to St Ives to the galleries, but most of all I want to go home to my lovely cottage on the St Ives road.

Feels strange to feel homesick for a place I'd only lived in for 7 years where most of the inhabitants were unfriendly. Here I am in the Cotswolds, with beautiful scenery and honey coloured houses, working in some of the most magnificent properties owned by the National Trust, and all I want to do is go home.

I think it would ease the pain of life to look out the window and see the cows in the field opposite trying to clamber into the front garden, to hear Sue next door hoovering at 8 am just before she went to work. Go into my back garden and see the sea and everyones coloured towels flapping in the sea breeze. To see my dear cats in the garden, my Rose Samson and Sabrina. Have my son come down for his holidays. Sit on the sticky Sennen sand and look for the mer-people who are supposed to sing there at sunset.  A land of magic. Bereavement after bereavement - I don't know how much more I can take.

I spent all day writing yesterday which was a good day for me, and the sun is shining cold and bright today,
I have an interview next week for the Natural History Museum. We are buying a tiny weeny bungalow in a village on the borders of Oxfordshire and Warwickshire - we moved up to be nearer friends and family and so my husband could work - but I have no-one here now in this neck of the manicured woods, a few new friends that I hardly see and some old ones who live just as far away.

Mothers Day

The one Sunday I dread with all my heart.  My friends are all "Guess what the girls gave me for Mothers Day?"  and flaunt flowers and charm bracelets at me, "My son is so brilliant" one will say "he's taking me out to lunch and got me theatre tickets."  Another friend's house is full of roses courtesy of her son and daughter.

I just have an empty burning ache in my heart. 

I don't know where my son is, I wasn't invited to his wedding, I don't know whether he's happy or sad or excited or if his life has changed. I miss him and want to hear him say "Hey mum" on the end of the phone.
I don't even have his phone number. I'm crying as I write this, because after all he has done, I still love him,
he was my one and only and I put my heart and soul into bringing him up.

I looked forward to going to his wedding, he said I could go, then changed the date and venue at the last moment and didn't invite me, then he said I could go to the big celebration in the Summer when they'd saved up to have all their friends together, he promised me I could go. I wasn't invited to that either.

I have e.mailed him pleading with him asking him what I can do so that he will speak to me again - but he doesn't answer.

The shops shout Mothers Day in pink flowery cards and chocolates, DVDS and films, jewellery, every shop blasts it out at you. He was never very good at Mother's Day anyway, one year actually saying to me "I don't do Mother's Day."  I answered back "Well I do!!"

He's my only son which makes it even more sore, most of my true close friends saw how I brought him up,
the effort I put into him, the things I did for him, the money and love I invested in him.

I thought I could cope, I thought I could ride it out this year, it was only when I was standing in Tescos with tears running down my face and people staring at me that I realised that I will feel like this until the day I die.

His graduation day was lovely, hot and sunny and we hired a B&B across the road from the Church he graduated in, I paid for his fiancees mother to come across from Japan, and for her to stay in my cottage in Cornwall with my son and her daughter for a week afterwards, we had champagne and strawberries and laughed and talked together, afterwards we helped my son move for the second time to his new flat in Cambridge.

I haven't seen or spoken to him for three years now.  My heart actually hurts when I think about him.. I just wish I could go back to that day and hold him close and say goodbye properly.

Because I live my life with this great gaping hole in it that only he can fill and I don't think I'll ever see him again.