That’s what happens, you see, when I write early. Vote early, vote often, as the saying goes.
Actually, “as the saying goes” (pronounced ‘goos’ or even ‘goo’) is, itself, a saying around here; amongst the older residents, that is. Usually attached to something that isn’t a saying at all.
Anyway, what I have returned to say is that I’ve just got back from a parents’ evening at the school and my lovely Sage has cooked me my dinner. I feel most awfully cherished.
It was the parents of the new pupils for September, and I spent an hour and a half bobbing up to strangers and engaging them in conversation. A couple of other governors were there too, doing the same thing and at one point we all chatted together for a few minutes. One of them said that she was never quite sure about volunteering to come in for things, she didn’t want to be intrusive. I said I knew how she feels – “I don’t come over as diffident, but I have to make an effort not to be,” I said. She told me that I don’t come over as diffident at all.
I know I don’t. I don’t here, do I? I’m confident and can talk a bit too much and have social skills and am not at all reticent. Well, I’m not saying it’s put on, and I’m not saying that I’m shy, because actually, people who are really pretty brash and then say, coyly, “of course, underneath it all, I’m terribly shy” really quite piss me off, because I’ve been shy and I couldn’t possibly have done it then – and I like being outgoing better than I liked my many introverted years, and I don’t mind that I’m laying myself open to judgement because it’s a sign that I’m not afraid to be humble (a lot of shyness is actually pride, or at least it was with me) – however, it does mean that I have to be sure and do it constantly, or else it looks as if I don’t care or am uninterested. When, in fact, I’m not quite confident that it’s appropriate for me to leap in and ask.
I’m getting better at it. I really do try very hard.
Anyway, tomorrow is the Sage’s birthday, and he will be 74. He doesn’t think of himself as ageing at all, and nor do I – that is, I know he is but he isn’t to me. He’s just the same as ever, and I love him as much as ever. His kindness and care when I was getting over my operation was, yet again, a revelation to me – after all these years, he can still surprise me. And, after all these years, one can still be surprised to fall in love all over again, with the same person – even if you’ve loved him all along. Which is rather more convenient than falling for someone else, of course.