Anyway, the book I mention was named Star Cats and was about star signs. But specifically describing the characteristics of people / cats, based on their birth date.
Now, generally, I do not go in for horoscopes but the description of my Cancerian personality could not have been more, spot on.
As for everyone else I know, it has turned out to be a total dud.
My parents who were both Sagittarians were described as being "here today and gone tomorrow", "suitcase ready for a quick getaway", and "constantly in search of new horizons to explore". Total guff given they never went anywhere in the 39 years (ongoing) that I have been their child and were total home birds.
My husband the Libra is described as "stylish and easy going", "well balanced in peaceful pleasant surroundings" and "highly artistic". For those of you who know my husband you would liken his level of flair more to Pob than Picasso.
I bring up this little book from my childhood because never has it felt so true of the last couple of months in our run up to returning to the UK, our time there and the feelings I had as we boarded the plane once again to leave the old country that we love for the new country that we like.
I quote, having memorised this book 30+ years ago:
"Cancer's moods change as often as the tide - from stormy and rough to calm and dreamy. Very sensitive, they are easily offended and although they may eventually forgive, they never forget. Great collectors of possessions, people and memories, they will never let anything go".
And just so we are clear, having read that back and realising I clearly think of myself as some moody old bat that holds grudges, the "never let anything go" is more to do with nice things such as possessions, people and memories. I think sentimental is an appropriate summary. And for those who know me well. I am almost entirely un-offendable. So frankly, the majority of this personality analysis is bunkum. Nevermind.
The point is my mood and emotions have fluctuated rapidly during the last month. If truth be told the preceding weeks to our arrival I was riddled with dread. We were finally nicely settled in Singapore and I just could not fathom what I was going to do with myself for a month in the UK. Everyone is busy with work, families, children, lives and the day to day and I am no longer officially a part of the groups that I valued so much in the years living in our town. So I worried a bit that I would spend the month in perpetual embarrassment.
I also have to admit that I did book our flights back with a pinch of spite. I was so upset about leaving home that within a month of landing in Stinkapore I had booked our return a year to the date that we left. That was no coincidence. That was a "hah! I refuse to complete 365 days in this place and I intend to leave my husband for a month on his own as he did to me!". Of course I was hoisted on my own petard as the reality was I was going home with two young children, no husband for help and company on a 13 hour flight and as Satan decided to twist the knife further gave me one of the worst fluey type viruses I have ever had the week of our flight. Needless to say, at this point my mood was glum.
Luckily I survived the flight even though my dear concerned hubbies parting words were "do tell the stewards if you are really not feeling well on the flight because you don't want them having to make an emergency landing in the Middle East". Thanks. It was meant with love but not remotely helpful given I had spent the last few hours Googling stories about what happens when people get seriously ill on a plane.
The flight was okay and we made it off the plane and into our waiting taxi without any problems or me collapsing in a heap. As we set out onto the M25, I really cannot describe my glee. True, the M25 is not really noted for its spectacular countryside and scenery but WOW! What countryside and scenery. A smile appeared on my face as we sped down the M25 at full pelt, hardly a car on the road at 5.30am, beautiful sunny day, trees and greenery all around. Sheep on the bank just before London Concrete but who cares and that crisp bright morning I longed for. The glum ball was batted out of the stadium and I was happy.
Ten hours later after unpacking, lazing and then falling asleep on the sofa, I woke up feeling diabolical so went to the doctor and got some antibiotics for a chest infection, so my mood once again took a dive.
The next day I went to collect my hire car. This cost me £2.80 in bus fare for a journey of less than a mile. Not happy. I was collected by Europcar from the station and deposited somewhere else where I waited for an hour while their wind up computer caused mayhem and I was trying hard not to collapse from fever. Even, less happy.
Anyway, finally the very nice man took me out to the Vauxhall Corsa that I expected. Cheapest car as requested by my "you don't need a car that is safe or German or vorsprung" husband. But instead I found they had given me the alternative which was a Fiat Panda, generally the preserve of the very elderly or those who deliver post and own a black and white cat. My mood dropped further.
It lifted however when I discovered I had not forgotten how to drive. It dropped again when I got hooted at the roundabout because it really does not have much oomph to get up to speed. As I discovered later on my intrepid 3 hour journey to Suffolk on a variety of fast roads and the dreaded Dartford and Orwell Bridge crossing of which I am mortally afraid, that once up to speed it is a pretty zippy little car. I assume this is because it is made of fibreglass. It was super economical and I think over the month I only put around £60 worth of petrol in it so all in all it was a good little car. It didn't break down and we didn't get dead. In my mind that is an excellent car. So I take back all the mean things I ever thought and said about it from the outset. Mood - very good.
The rest of my month from day two onwards was a packed schedule of visits seeing old friends and family. Exhausting with the endless driving and I am positive the M25 at every hour other than 5am contains double the traffic it did a year ago. But how wonderful it is to see people you love.
Sadly, though the heart was willing the time and energy levels were not and we could not get to everyone but for all of those friends we did see it did fill me with such joy. The weather was great, everyone was happy and while my mood was elevated so high that I could cope with the tiredness, it was also tinged with a little sadness in that it was a reminder of all that I had given up. Told you, people and memories, don't let it go.
The last few days of our trip I devoted to the children, taking them to all our old haunts and doing the things that are non-existent in Singapore. Children's farms, fruit picking, running through open countryside, throwing stones in rivers, general scampering in the great outdoors and commenting as my daughter did regularly, on all the dead things. "Dead foxes, dead badgers, dead hedgehogs, dead deer. Why is England so full of dead things?" Our Yorkshire Dales alternative to the Philadelphia set Sixth Sense, "I see dead rabbits, Bruce".
We were also kindly welcomed back to the children's pre-school and infant's school which I adore and always will. I say welcomed back but the truth is I invited myself over but we were given such a lovely reception and the kids were scooped up with hugs that they then decided they did not want to go back to Singapore and stay instead at their schools in Guildford where they could no longer stay anyway because they were too old and forgetting they were both in tears when the International School semester ended because they loved it so much. Clearly my children have as fickle moods as me.
As an example, my son asked if he could have a play date at one of his friend's houses so I said, "well, yes who do you want to go and see", to which he replied "what are their names?" We did not invite ourselves round to anyone specifically from his original band of buddies as I doubt they would appreciate the fact they were picked off a list, I wrote.
All in all it was a fabulous trip and hugely emotional saying goodbye and leaving again. We concentrated a year's worth of visits and activities that we would do if we were resident into one month which made it one of the best months we have ever spent in the UK.
We did not intend to come back every year as we don't get the free tickets courtesy of the company but have to cough up out of our own coffers. However, I think there is a real value in coming home each year or at the least every 18 months. It is good for the soul, great for the kids, it enables you to hold on to precious relationships you have made and most importantly it is just fabulous when people hold the door open for you, say thank you and please and smile just for the sake of smiling. Just to be pleasant. Not due to any strange psychosis. Just to be nice. What is not to love about home!
And of course, the shopping is GREAT! I bought myself nothing fun on this holiday but I don't think I have ever enjoyed buying boxes of ibuprofen, children's toothpaste and fondant icing more than I did on my one shopping day of my month when the kids were with their Grandparents. It was true bliss.
Well, now we are back. We had a good flight in on Thursday evening. A very successful un pack as the joy of staying with parents is you come home with very few dirty clothes so a couple of spins and that was done. We all fell asleep at 10pm and woke up the following day at 1pm. Not bad I thought as we all seemed quite sprightly for the remainder of the day. How my mood swelled with joy that we had mastered jet lag.
Night two and the kids are in bed at 9pm but then big one wakes up at 1am and wakes me up. I then cannot sleep so we sit in the living room, me reading some work related stuff and she watching the first of five movies we watched that night. Small child gets up at 3am unable to sleep and also stays up. None of us returned to sleep.
We kept them up and out of the apartment today even though number one child was converting to Zombiedom as the day wore on. All this in the hope we would be back on Singapore time lickety split. As they are children and not drunks they were unable to sleep standing up so we really thought keeping them vertical from 9am to 4pm would do the trick.
Given it is 2am and I am at the computer this has not worked as number 1 child wailed so loudly two hours after she went to bed she woke me up just as I had slipped into a slumber. I am now wide awake and will no doubt be sitting here again having been awake now for 26 hours with no sleep. Needless to say my mood is now bordering on murder. Luckily she is now sleeping with her Dad and I am on the other side of the apartment so when I do have my lack of sleep psychotic episode she will not be in arms reach.
I hope our future visits to the motherland will be as wonderful as this one was as the kids and I really could not have been happier. Hopefully we can encourage the old man back too at least for a portion of the summer.
Unfortunately, as I hear footsteps approaching me right this minute, if we have to go through the jet lag horror that is my firstborn child again, we may not come back ever again and the outcome will be stormy, rough and Biblical.
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Note. This is a jet lag induced blog. All content and characters appearing in this work might be fictitious and could bear no resemblance to persons living or dead. But it also might. Not sure.
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