Sometimes it attacks us all: desperation. You cannot but ask yourself, ‘why me?’. The answer could lie in the words of some great woman or man,
‘You deserve the life you’ve got.’ Or,
‘If it’s not working out, do something about it.’
But change is difficult, and even if part of that change is positive, there are things that are hard to get used to, and some things that seem impossible. And it’s scary.
I’m talking about our move, as usual. Through this whole process of our migration from the country to a city, which became inevitable six months ago, I’ve never doubted that it’s the right thing to do. Not really. I know it had to happen and I’m ready for it.
Still, there are days like today when all I want to do is lie down on the kitchen floor, bang my fists against the lovely oak planks, and cry my eyes out.
But instead I’ll pull my socks up and go to the Babington book club. I’ll discuss The Russian Dreambook of Colour and Flight by Gina Oschner with my fellow book lovers and we’ll delve into the much less charming world that Oschner paints, where the dead won’t stay quiet, apartment blocks have no sanitation and sink into the mud, workers aren’t paid and the children go feral. And I’ll realise that things aren’t that bad after all.