I’ve mentioned serendipity before on Going Gently and over the last three years have cited at least two serendipitous events that have brought much needed windfalls of money unexpectedly into my lap, each one at a time that it was most needed.
Today, I listened to the news of a proposed interest rate rise, acknowledged fluctuations in tax, energy bill hikes and a proposed increase in national insurance with a prickle of worry.
I’ve saved up the money to repair the chimney throughout the year but still have outstanding jobs that need addressing, with an old cottage, or a period house of any age, many things are works in progress
The bathroom needs a drastic upgrade from its 1980s utilitarian facelift, dear old Bluebell won’t go on forever, and the living room is in dire need of new flooring.
Those are my must haves on my 2022 list as well as my counselling course fees which seem to me looming just out of reach like the mountains of Mordor
Nice things like holiday travel costs, and other less necessary incidentals have been cast aside in my head until now, the year I will be reaching sixty.
Until recently I had more or less forgotten that I have a small private pension,
I took it out when I was a student nurse and have dribbled very small and regular amounts into it well before I had ever thought of kissing my first man on the lips.
That was an age ago now, and a bright shiny pamphlet and official letter, opened up only yesterday told me of my options .
One of which will pay for most of my needs for the year and then some.
My relief is palpable and couldn’t have come at a better time for after 8 am this morning , I’m on holiday.
I have eleven days off and am starting to book things to do ( though mindful it’s also nice to do nothing at all)
Theatre with Chic Eleanor, a reflexology massage, a pop over to Liverpool for a meal at Mowgli with a friend, cinema at the storyhouse, a walk with another friend, an overnight jaunt to Sheffield. Pottery and choir.
Oh and plenty of time to potter and to read and to paint the upstairs hall to the west wing and to plan my new bathroom with a power shower to die for……..one that will force blissfully hot soapy water into my aging nether regions .
I’m very much looking forward to it all.
I will leave this positive post on a bittersweet note as I must lament the passing of Sidney Poitier.
I think I first became aware of him in the 1970s when I saw him in the television showing of the film To Sir With Love
I had never seen such a beautiful black actor before, and certainly had not “ experienced” seeing one who commanded such respect, gravitas and power on screen.
The film was hodgepotch of dated cliches, even back then, but to me as a pre teen I think I instantly recognised his dignity and power against racism. Racism that was ingrained into the very fabric of the middle class ,Conservative urban Wales way back then.
The famous slapping scene in In The Heat Of The Night wasn’t lost of me either, although that was a film I visited a few years later. The Look on Poitier’s face as he returns the slap from the southern Plantation owner Endicott is stunning and no wonder it was referred to at the time as the slap that was heard around the world