Sitting outside the Abingdon and found a moment to write as V is running late, but that works out well as today was too busy to get to my morning pages first thing. Not that I always do – my usual ritual is to sit down to write them once I’ve taken Monkey to school and B has gone to work, fewer distractions that way when I don’t have to fetch this, that, the other for Monkey and get too preoccupied kissing B.
Several missions today. First off, I met up with Monkey and his dad (aka my Ex, aka Hitler) at a school we might be sending Monkey to in two years’ time. How the fuck did he get so big?! Makes me feel old. Well, I am. There’s no denying it anymore. You can’t possibly claim that 38 is your mid-thirties, I am well and truly in my LATE thirties. Even at 37 you’re grasping at youthful straws if you call it mid-thirties. Good thing is I don’t mind aging. In fact, I think I’m better at 38 than I was at 18 or 28. I’ve always been baby faced, and I reckon I look better with a bit of living etched on to my face and added to my hips. Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I’m an old crone, let’s just leave it there and save desperate denial for another day.
The head teacher at Monkey’s school is advising us to get him into a grammar school, because the little mite is ever so clever. Because I don’t understand the school system in my adopted country, I’m allowing my ex (who is a teacher, as well as a dickhead) to be right for once and letting him take a steer on it. As long as we can send Monkey to a school where he’ll be happy, where he’ll thrive and where he’ll have the best shot at developing in a way that works for him, I’ll be happy. That’s all that counts.
My second mission was a handbag. Of course I’m being a good girl, so heading into American Pie on the High Road was a huge mistake. Of bloody course I immediately found a piece of handbag perfection so heavenly perfect I almost had a little orgasm when I perved over it. £569. I think not. The devil in me very nearly went for it – come on, it’s an investment – but I decided against it and instead headed to Westfield before meeting up with V. I figured that there just HAD to be a mid-range handbag that wouldn’t render us homeless, but of course the only ones I liked where the likes of Prada and Mulberry and had price tags to match.
In a sulk because standard high street brands like Oasis and Warehouse failed to present me with a bag I liked, I called B to inform him of Mission Failed and to let him know where to meet V and I, as I strolled towards the exit. And there it was! Glorious croc print, in the palest shade of green with a couple of bright orange details, in the middle of a Paul’s Boutique concession….. Lust at first sight and I bought it there and then. And £80! How good am I! I haven’t bought a handbag that cheap since I was a student – chuffed to bits! And it’s not a make-do bag either (I’d rather go without than buy something I don’t love, regardless of price tag), I freaking love it! It’s cheap, cheerful and it rocks, plus it is the usual Anna huge so has more than enough room for all the stuff I can’t leave the house without including my laptop, notebook and other bits. Result!
Now I just need V to turn up, will be good to see her. She does a bit of coaching (this is in my view what she should do for a living instead of wasting her brilliance in an office) and is going to do some psychometric test on both B and I. I’ve done tests like that before – usually in job interview situations – and I find it really interesting. I’d never tick the answers I think are “right”, so it’s really interesting to see the results and you always find something you didn’t realise about yourself. I used to look at coaching as something indulgent, never really saw the value but I guess you could say that these days my views are the opposite and there are things I’ve discovered that I don’t think I ever would have, had it not been for my wonderful cheerleader R.
I never considered being coached by V – as she (probably very correctly) points out, coaching is harder if there is any kind of emotional attachment and I think she’s probably spot on. I think I’d probably end up getting defensive if someone close to me challenged me. When R does, all that happens is that I take a frank and honest look inward and always come away knowing I’m a better person for it. I’m not saying I need fixing – come on, I’m fabulous – but no one’s perfect and sometimes a little nudge in the right direction can do wonders.
Right. V’s here and so is my second spritzer.