I am cold Father William, the young man said

When the weather forecaster says that the temperature is dropping into single digits, something happens to me and all I want to do is hibernate with a good book and a cup of herbal tea somewhere warm. Barry, on the other hand, is all gung-ho to attack those garden problem areas. He comes inside all pink-cheeked and happy, inviting me to come and join him. I layer up with six jerseys, three layers of pants and nice sturdy shoes until I resemble a big blob of warm and dash outside for five minutes of weak sunshine and fresh air. I go "ooh great job." and "this needs a bit of mulch" and then make a waddling dash for heat pump and warmth. Barry happily goes about mulching and pruning to his heart's content. The problem arises when he comes into my domain and switches off the heat pump because he finds it too hot. Nooooo. Then he starts opening windows. Yes, folks. Windows. Plural. Until he feels the stale air inside the house has been expelled. Meanwhile, I am looking for suppliers of double glazed windows to keep the warmth in but, no, apparently I need fresh air. Yes, I know he wants what is best for me, but what is best is another duvet on the bed, lap rugs by the dozen and heat pump at full throttle until Spring arrives. Or maybe even Summer.

We took some of the grandchildren to soccer on Saturday. I had forgotten the snooty fashionistas who inhabit that world. Or maybe I thought things had changed since our children participated in sports. I suppose I shouldn't judge them because at least they are attending their children's games. A gorgeous little girl was playing soccer and her team fought valiantly scoring two goals to our granddaughters two goals. Not a bad outcome. Both teams had tried their best and it was good that they drew level. So we were all happy. But apparently not this little girl's dad. Wow. His finger was pointing right at her nose as he berated her for not playing hard enough. For goodness sake, she is only seven! From happy little soccer player to sobbing and distraught child in five seconds flat. Parents like that deserve a right royal kick in the rear end. Sadly he was too tall for me to administer this treatment. I might have done myself an injury. I suppose I could have hijacked a soccer ball and given it a hard kick in the direction of said derriere? Poor little girl had to go home with that oaf. Now that was the real tragedy. Our granddaughter got player of the day and was thrilled with her trophy. She said she might even take it to bed with her that night. Photos of her triumph were sent via the phone to her dad at work and even her brothers thought it was cool. Her sister wanted to know if she had been given a chocolate that she could share.... oh well, trophies are good but chocolate is yummy. Well, it is to a two-year-old. In fact one day her Dad offered her some chockies and then said 'Would you choose me or the chocolates if you had to?" Her answer? Now remember she is only two years old,... was the chocolates. I was watching some children at a buffet luncheon yesterday and each and every one of them had a plate piled high with cakes. I told them to enjoy it while they are still young because when they get to my age cakes are no longer on the menu. They looked at me and thought "We will never get that old!" Haa haa just wait guys. What tastes nice now .... well no, I shouldn't say that because it still tastes nice no matter the age. But as you age your food choices become much more limited. Aaah never mind, I ate my fair share of stuff when I was young. Now I just look.

We were looking at houses this week. No, we are not thinking of moving, but it doesn't hurt to see what other homes are priced at. And it's fun to look. This particular house was nothing special. A basic three bedroom, one bath place that had absolutely no street appeal. A ticky-tacky box of a place in an area of equally tacky dwellings. Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather at the price. Exorbitant. How do any of the youngsters buy their own homes in this day and age? Two salaries and lots of sacrifices? Oh heck, isn't that what we did? I can remember months where our larder was decidedly bare as we battled to pay a bill on the house. And yes, it was a ticky-tacky little place with no street appeal. In fact, we lost thousands on our first property when we defaulted because we had a sick child that needed hospitalization. Our second property nearly went the same way and it was only by the skin of our teeth, and plenty of budgeting, that we kept hold of it. Our third property also teetered on the edge when we fell behind with the mortgage. Thank goodness we got over that hurdle and came out the other end to own a tiny house with three bedrooms and one bathroom ... and no street appeal. But we like our ticky-tacky box and with the windows closed it is actually nice and cosy. And you can always brighten up a box with a bit of bright paint and imagination. And plants. Lots of plants. Trees and flowers. Oh and fruit and vegetables. Yup, even ugly can be prettied up with a bit of foliage. Thank goodness for Barry and his green thumbs that never freeze even on the chilliest days of Winter. I will press my nose to the window and enjoy the abundance outside from the safety of my warm house.

I am a fraud. Yes, don't deny it. I fake a lot of things in my life. I pretend to my grandchildren that I am brave and strong and not scared of anything. But in reality, I do fear things. I dread the thought of being reliant on others for my transport or care. I worry about the future for my children and grandchildren. We were chatting to the boys this week and I suddenly thought "What will their memories of us be?" Will they remember the words of wisdom? Or the way that Barry picks them up by the elbows or dangles them by their feet? I am an imposter most of the time. I have anxiety attacks and have to resort to mandala scribbles to calm my troubled thoughts. But when someone asks me how I am doing, I reply "Fine". and put on a smile until my teeth hurt and my ears fall off. Friends tell me how talented I am and how much they would love to paint or write like I do. And in my head I say "There are more mistakes than skill and if you could just see them like I do, you would know that I am a fraud." I have a book ready to go to the publishers and yet I hold back because it is not perfect. I have piles of discarded paintings that I get tempted to put a match to... first I would take them out of the bedroom they are currently residing in of course. I am constantly wondering if my parents would be proud of me. The voices in my head are my worst critics .... so today I plan to listen to good music, read a book and drown out the crazies that would pull me down. "Out damn Spot" or is it

"You are old Father William", the young man said "And your hair has become very white and yet you incessantly stand on your head. Do you think at your age it is right?"

"In my youth." Father William replied to his son. "I feared that I might injure the brain; but now that I'm perfectly sure I have none, why I do it again and again." (Lewis Carroll)