A letter to me age 15.

A while ago the 'lovely Lisa' posted in our Writer's Group fb page that she had recently been asked to write a letter to herself when she was a child, although I'm not sure if this was for an on line publication or a printed one. In this letter she basically told her younger self about what the future held, but that it would be OK. That though times would be difficult, she'd come through it all a better, stronger person. At the time she prompted us to do the same. I thought about it but wasn't sure what age to choose and what it was that I wanted to tell myself; where to begin actually!

I recently attended a Social Media Workshop run by Lisa and 'The Purple Hat' poem came up in conversation. I'd never heard of it although the other ladies present had. Lisa suggested that I google it and when I'd found it, asked me to read it 'in my poet's voice'.

I started off ok, even joking that this could be about me! Age 3, thinking of myself as a Queen, ok! Age 8, seeing myself as Cinderella, yep, definitely still ok! Then, when I started to read about the girl age 15 my voice began to crack. This was getting a bit too close for comfort. I struggled on, increasingly failing to maintain my composure until I reached the part of the poem about being aged 50. At last I felt on firmer ground and triumphantly finished the poem as the sentiments expressed began to resonate with the way that I want to live the rest of my life.

But why did I wobble at age 15? What was it about this line of the poem that touched me in a tender place? Perhaps this was the age at which I should be writing to myself! When I was a child I actually played Cinderella in an amateur production of the pantomime. I can't remember what age I was at the time, I don't remember having any self esteem issues at that time. But I definitely did have self esteem issues by the time I reached 15.  Perhaps if I write that letter now, I might be able to let go whatever it is that I'm hanging on to that made me choke up when reading the poem. So here goes!

Letter to myself age 15.

'Dear 15 year old me,
I know you're finding life quite hard at the moment. You're having nightmares about death and dying. It's your biggest fear. A fear that you will actually have to face when you are 27 and seriously ill, but as I'm writing to you when you/I am aged 57, it's going to be ok.
At the moment I know that you are feeling un-lovable and don't even dare to dream of a husband and family, but guess what? You will marry and have 2 lovely boys, although it won't be easy. You will face circumstances that you will think are the 'worst things that could possibly happen', circumstances that you are convinced that you couldn't possibly survive. But you will survive! You will emerge from a long, cold dark night, a stronger, happier person, more at peace with the world and with yourself.
You will learn that life isn't just for the young, but for the 'young as heart'. Life will begin for you, not necessarily at 40, but certainly 50.
The hopes and dreams you do have may be a long time coming, but hang in there. You will get the chance to at least pursue them and that in itself will be a great adventure!
I can't turn back the clock and in many ways I wouldn't want too. But let me assure you that in the future you will grab that 'Purple Hat' and 'have fun with the world'.'

xxx

At the end of her letter to herself, Lisa wrote this;' I hope you have enjoyed this; 'I challenge you to write yourself a letter, a Note To Self. In writing, I have found so much healing so if you’re thinking about writing or exploring some things that might have been pushed so far into the recesses of your soul that you can barely remember them, a letter to yourself is a lovely gentle way to start.' Lisa Cherry, 2012. I too want to lay down this challenge! Some of the problems that we may be having as adults, can often have their roots in our past, our childhood. Severing those roots can open up so many possibilities, no matter how old we are!

For those who aren't familiar with the poem here it is. Although it was written by a young person, there is definitely a lesson to be learnt, no matter how old you are.

The Purple Hat poem

Age 3: she looks at herself and sees a Queen.

Age 8: She looks at herself and sees Cinderella.

Age 15: She looks at herself as the “Ugly Sister” –“Mum I can’t go to school looking like this!”

Age 20: She looks at herself and sees - “too fat/too thin, too short/too tall, too straight/too curly” –but decides she’s going out anyway.

Age 30: She looks at herself and sees “too fat/too thin, too short/too tall, too straight/too curly”-but decides she doesn’t have time to fix it so she’s going out anyway.

Age 40: She looks at herself and sees “too fat/too thin, too short/too tall, too straight/too curly”-but says “At least I’m clean,” and goes out anyway.

Age 50: She looks at herself sees, “I am” and goes wherever she wants to go.

Age 60: She looks at herself and reminds herself of all the people who can’t even see themselves in the mirror anymore. Goes out and conquers the world.

Age 70: She looks at herself and sees wisdom, laughter and ability, goes out and enjoys life.

Age 80: Doesn’t bother to look. Just puts on a purple hat and goes out to have fun with the world.

Maybe we should all grab that purple hat earlier.

 

How a mature student does last minute preparation for an exam!

So yesterday the day that I'd been dreading for months, finally arrived. I woke early with butterflies the size of vultures inside my tummy. I tried to eat breakfast as I knew that it would be difficult to concentrate on an empty stomach. I had to make the journey from Witney, in West Oxfordshire, to Milton Keynes, Buckinghamshire. As a reluctant, nervous driver, I decided it would be better for me to go by coach. it would take longer but at least it would cut down on my stress levels!
I left the house at 11am to catch the local bus into Oxford where I would board the coach to Milton Keynes. I arrived in time to see the coach departing the bus depot. No problem! I'd aimed for an earlier coach knowing that the next one would still get me there in  time. I filled in the time popping into Debenhams; retail therapy always calms the nerves.

I returned to the bus depot in time to catch the coach that would carry me to one of the most challenging things I'd done in years. I boarded the coach and as we made our way out of the environs of Oxford city centre, I managed to enjoy a prawn mayo sandwich I'd purchased earlier. Now what? I still had at least an hour to kill on the coach. I tried reading a book, but the words just swam before my eyes. I thought about doing some last minute studying, but I'd been cautioned that this wasn't a good idea as it could just confuse me.
Then out of the blue I was struck by the 'creative muse' and decided to write a short story. Well in a way this was a way of preparing as one of the options in the exam was a creative writing option. It was a challenge trying to write on a coach as it twisted and turned it's way across the English countryside, but undeterred and spurred on by the creative juices that were running through my veins, by the time the coach deposited me at the bus stop outside Milton Keynes station, I'd given birth to 270 odd words about why on earth I was here, in Milton Keynes about to sit an exam.


The exam was to take place in a hotel and as I entered the room, there was such a calm, peaceful feeling in the room, that any nerves I'd had seemed to melt away. When the time came for me to turn over the exam paper, I couldn't believe it! 2 of the questions were on subjects that I'd attempted as practise questions in my exam revision. As my third option, there was a creative writing question and still feeling 'under the influence' of the creative muse', I opted to do this as my third and final question. Having spent weeks, if not months dreading this exam, I actually found myself enjoying it!

Now I'm not saying that I think that I've passed with flying colours, I am just so relieved to have produced any answers at all!

I may have reached the age where I enter a room and then exit it again to try to remember why I entered it in the first place. But I'm not completely past it, I have sat an exam and survived. Bring on the next challenge. I think!

Here's the story I wrote on the coach:-

'Mary stared out the window as the coach sped along the motorway carrying her inexorably towards her fate. The butterflies she’d been experiencing earlier had flown away to be replaced by an inexplicable calm. Inexplicable; because she was about to do something that was the stuff of nightmares; her nightmares at least.

Life had been quite pleasant really; watching daytime TV, reading and lunching with friends. She’d learnt a lot from watching TV, especially Eggheads. She was almost as good as Daphne at guessing now.

A change in the motion of the coach alerted her that the coach was stopping. Only one more stop and she would be leaving the comparative safety of the coach.

Just what was it that had made her step out of her comfort zone and launch herself on the path that had led to this moment?

Loose Women! They had a lot to answer for! One stupid little competition! Even if she’d won she couldn’t have taken up the prize. Anyway, why would she want to be on TV at her age!

Well, if nothing else it had made her realise that she wasn’t as happy as she thought she was. Even at her age she still craved excitement. One last chance to feel the buzz of being alive she’d had before ‘life happened’.

Well. She’d certainly done it now! In less than an hour’s time everything that she had been preparing for would finally happen. Weeks of sleepless nights and stressful days would soon bear fruition.

In 3hours, a mere180 minutes, it would all be over. Mary would have sat her first exam in over 30 years.'

 

 

The 7 stages of studying (for a mature student).

A couple of years ago I had a 'Damascus moment' and realised that if I didn't change the way that I was living my life then I would be leaving it full of regrets about the things I'd never done or even tried. For some reason I thought that it would be a good idea to do an Open University course. For the first couple of years it was fine as all I had to do was do some reading  and produce a few Tutor Marked Assignments. I found these quite stressful to do but at least I had my course books to hand to refer too and plenty of time in which to do them.


Those were the days! Now for the first time in over 30 years, I am to sit an exam.

I'm sure that I'm not the only one to have had the recurring dream where you are about to sit an exam but you haven't studied. I used to wake up in a sweat and was so relieved when I realised that it was only a dream or nightmare actually.

Now through choice I am about to experience this nightmarish scenario.

In my attempt to prepare /study for this event, I have come to the conclusion that just as there are certain stages of grieving, there are also stages of studying, especially for the mature student.

1. Terror!

Why in the name of all that I hold dear did I get myself into this situation? My life was fine as it was. Surely I've reached the time of life when I don't need this type of stress. but on the other hand, it was my choice. Oh well, better get on with it.

2. Enthusiasm!

Right! If I'm going to do this I better get organised.
1.Write a study timetable=check.
2.Make sure that I've got plenty paper and pens=check.
3.Clear the diary to allow time to study=check.
4.Cover the dining room table with course books ready to start=check.
5.Put the kettle on as caffeine is definitely required=check.

3, Reality!

Coffee in hand I open the books and start to read. First problem, where are my reading glasses? After several minutes looking everywhere that I can think of, a casual glance in the mirror reveals that they are on my head- oops.  Another glance at my watch and I see that it's nearly lunchtime. 'I'll be able to concentrate better with food inside me'. 3 hours later after falling asleep while watching the lunchtime news, I once again decide to 'hit the books'.

4. Despair!  

Nothing is sinking in! I read and read, writing furiously, hoping that this will help to consolidate the facts in my head. I get the names of my kids confused with the cats, I go into a room and have to go out and in again to remember why I entered it in the first place! How can I remember who did what, when or where? Never mind, keep trying. If only I could see the questions one day and answer them the next, I'd be fine!

5. Anger!

Who's stupid idea was it to do this course anyway? I was perfectly happy as I was, why does society put this pressure on us to feel that we have to be constantly achieving things? Can't the Open University make an exception in the case of us 'oldies'? It's my husband's fault for not talking me out of this madness.

6. Bargaining!

Please, please please! If I give up wine and chocolate, to help preserve what 'little grey cells' I still have and have lots of early nights will you make the questions easy? I help little old ladies across the street and give to charity, surely I deserve a break?

7. Acceptance!

Oh well, as the day of the exam approaches I'll just have to let it go.  I've done as much as I can do. what 'will be , will be' and all that! After all, I'm doing this for me so what does it matter if I pass or not?

This time next week it'll all be over. whether I do well or not, just as with any experience we go through I'll be a stronger better person for it or at least I'll have survived, (hopefully).


"Anything I've done that was ultimately worthwhile initially scared me to death". Betty Bender.

This quote is very relevant for me at the moment. Yes I'm scared! But that's better than feeling a failure because I didn't try.

Wish me luck-I'll need it! Meanwhile I'll remind myself that I'm an amazing woman of a certain age and I'm still pushing boundaries!

Update

I passed! And as a reward I get to do it all again in October. #needmyheadexamined

An embarassing situation-my Downton Abbey encounter.

I'm a huge fan of Downton Abbey, who isn't, and watching the new series I was reminded of the time that my hubby and I got the chance to go to Highclere Castle which, (for the 1% of the population who don't know), is the setting for Downton.. On this particular day the castle was hosting a fundraiser for the Help For Heroes charity and to my delight I discovered that there were some of the cast members on site and for a donation it was possible to get their autographs. Naturally, I joined the queue. They'd just gone off for some lunch so I had quite a while to wait. There was a lovely buzz in the queue as everyone seemed to be as excited as I was to meet the cast. All I could think of was that I hoped that I wouldn't say or do anything to embarrass myself.

Hugh Bonneville alias Lord Grantham.

Finally, they returned from lunch and as the line progressed nearer to the marquee, so my excitement increased. I'd purchased a glossy brochure which contained a picture of the entire cast of Downton and I thought that I would get them to autograph the photo. But, when I entered the marquee, I found out that each of them had a stack of postcard size pictures of themselves in costume. When it was my turn, they asked me my name and gave me a personalised signed postcard. Nevertheless, being greedy, I asked them to sign the brochure as well.

All was going well!  I successfully managed to get 7 of the 9 cast members autograph without embarrassing myself. These included David Robb, (Doctor Carson), Penelope Wilton, (Matthew Crawley's mother,) Hugh Bonneville, (Lord Grantham), Allan Leech, (Tom Branson), Lesley Nicol, (Mrs Patmore, the cook) and Sophie McShera, (Daisy, the kitchen maid)Then I came across Kevin McNally, who I recognised from Pirates of the Caribbean, but not from Downton! He was sitting between Jim Carter, (Mr Carson, the head butler) and Phyllis Logan, (Mrs Hughes, the housekeeper). Unlike the others, Kevin McNally didn't have a postcard sized picture of himself. Instead he produced a rather large photo of himself as Joshamee Gibbs, (Captain Jack Sparrow's first mate), in the Pirates series of films. 

Now for the embarrassing bit! The conversation between Kevin and me went like this.

Me:-"Oh, you've got a big one"!

Him:- "Thank you very much". (with an enormous grin on his face)!

Then turning to Phyllis Logan he said:- "She's right you know".

Already wishing that the floor would open up and swallow me I was further embarrassed when turning his attention to my chest area he then said:-

 "You're not too bad yourself"! 

By now all the actors and actresses at the table, not to mention the other members of the public within earshot, were laughing at my predicament. Still with a big grin on his face, he handed me my signed photograph. With as much dignity as I could muster I waited as Jim Carter signed his postcard and my brochure, then clutching them in my by now 'sweaty with embarrassment' hands, I made a hasty retreat from the marquee. I later found out that he had joined the cast as Mr Bryant, the father of the soldier who fathered a child by one of the housemaids which was aired a few weeks after this incident. 

'The big one' 

A few weeks later I was invited to take part in an on line forum about Downton Abbey. During the course of the forum I shared this story and the photographs that I'd taken that day of the cast members present on that day. When the forum ended there were prizes given to those who had contributed the most to the forum. I was by no means one of them, but I was given a special prize as quote:- "Although I hadn't contributed a lot, what I had contributed was very interesting", unquote. I wonder what they meant?

Despite this little 'faux pas' on my part, it was a very memorable day. Later on the cast members took part in a celebrity auction with items such as a signed script going for about £I,000 and the chance to appear as an extra in the next series going for at least double that. Unfortunately I somehow managed to lose the signed post cards of the cast. They must have slipped from between the pages of the brochure as I was walking around, but I managed to keep the 'big one'. I've also got the signed brochure so all was not lost. Funny how growing older is no guarantee of growing wiser. One of these days I'll learn to 'engage brain before opening mouth'. But on the other hand where would be the fun in that. :) 

Update 2015.

I was recently talking to Sophie McShera, who plays Daisy the kitchen maid. I asked if she remembered the story of the 'big one. She didn't so I told it to her. Only I omitted to mention that the 'big one' was a photograph. Will I never learn. 

Photographs, Isabel's own. (The full cast one being part of the brochure).

Isabel Johnstone 2015 ©

Passion

The 'lovely Lisa' recently threw down a writing prompt challenge in our private 'I'm a writer' fb group. She challenged us to write a poem about passion. Not feeling very confident, I decided to 'give it a go'. After all only the other members of the group would see it. In fear and trepidation I uploaded my attempt as a word document.

A couple of the ladies in the group commented favourably on the poem and I was quietly pleased.

Then to my surprise, the 'lovely Lisa' not only shared the poem on her fb page, but she also posted it on Twitter. After my initial shock, I was delighted as I took this as a sign that she liked it! So here goes! I'm going to put it out there and see what others think. Another step along my 'New Beginning's' pathway.   

Passion

All consuming, life confirming

As it grows and so consumes.

Pulsing, pleasing soon not breathing

Crushed by feelings once unknown.

Things look brighter, freer, lighter

Nothing now too much to bear.

Living, loving, passions rising

Finding Aphrodite’s home. 

Then comes stillness, peaceful silence

Quietness and calmness fall.

Softly, soothing feelings linger

Sweet surrender’s joy your own. 

Passion comes when least expected

Stealing thoughts and peace of mind

Slowly, slyly overpowering

Pulling all defences down. 

Do we have the choice to answer

To the call of passion’s lure?

Hopeless, helpless, oh what pleasure

Lies within a lover’s crown.

 

Isabel Johnstone 2013.