FICTION - Camomile Crescent : The Smith Family

22 Camomile Crescent - Emma and Luke 

Emma Smith sighed with a mixture of excitement and anxiety as she ran her hand over all four of her childrens carefully pressed school uniforms.  Two tiny grey pinafore dresses and two little shirt and tie combinations hung side by side along the picture rail - the rail still in desperate need of a good lick of paint she noticed - in the narrow hallway of the semi-detached Victorian home.  She wondered what state they would return home in tomorrow?

She could not believe the time had finally arrived whereby both of her sets of twins would be at school.  The Academy - that had ensured so much change Camomile Crescent - the place she and her husband Luke had called home since they were married seven years previously, would now occupy her two sons and two daughters for 30 hours a week. 

Part of her was ecstatic.  She had dreamt about this day many times.  Days when she felt she was drowning in a sea of dirty nappies, bottles, sippy cups and tantrums.  Nights when she was woken every hour by small babies and restless toddlers.  It was the only way she had coped.  By remembering that they wouldn't be babies forever, all desperately needing her attention.  One never less so importantly than the other. 

Emma and Luke already had twin boys - Jaxson and Louie - at a mere 13 months old when they discovered she was pregnant again.  When the sonographer had announced it was twins for a second time she had turned to Luke accusingly "How am I going to cope?"  Luke did what he did best.  He calmed her down and told her everything was going to be o.k.  Luke was a Firefighter and coped with situations of high stress regularly.  Luke realised, this was likely to be a long situation of high stress but did not dare show any sign of concern. 

Other peoples reaction to the news was always the same "Four?  You are going to have four to cope with?  Wow!  Good luck ha ha!"  They meant it in a light-hearted way but it was true.  Emma had to come to terms with the fact that she was going to be tending to, not only two new babies once again, but two wilful toddlers.  She took comfort in the fact that the first six months would be the easiest.  Eat and sleep would be the extent of keeping up with the babies.  But thereafter, she didn't dare to think about it.

When the girls - Bessy and Alexis - reached 10 months and decided they both wanted to be on the move she felt herself enter, what sometimes felt like an eternal stretch, of complete chaos.  To split herself between the two boys had been difficult enough but adding another two into the mix meant her days were a constant stream of retrieving wailing toddlers from climbing, hiding and destroying areas they should not be in and keeping crawling babies from picking up the toddlers toys and choking. 

Her home, that she had been proud of being able to keep relatively tidy considering she had two children at home full time, had become a constant shell of toy debris.  She had one effort at tidying up at the end of the day, when the children all finally fell to sleep, but sometimes she didn't even have the energy to do that.  She only ever seemed to move toys from one corner to another, there was never enough storage in their three bedroom home, no matter what they bought from IKEA.  The one plus she found to never having a single second to sit down was that the baby weight literally fell off of her.  She was slimmer than she had ever been, not that she had time to appreciate, or make the most of it with clothes.  Sometimes she wondered if her husband ever remembered a time when she wasn't wearing comfortable trousers and baby-mush stained vests.  She couldn't.  She found it easier to just look after the children at home, so didn't need to worry about what she looked liked.  Seeing friends or even having visitors became a rare event.  

Then something remarkable happened.  Just when she was wondering if she could continue to go days without a shower any longer, notification came that the boys were approaching the age of pre-school.  The Government would be providing 15 hours per child, per week in a suitable environment.  Emma had opened the letter and actually had to re-read it.  She had been aware that children went to pre-school around age three once upon a time.  But in her whirlwind days of just trying to keep the children alive, she had completely lost track of time. 

The afternoon the boys had started at The Academy Pre-School, how she felt had taken her by surprise.  Instead of breathing a sigh of relief, she had paced around the living room looking at the clock.  She continued retrieving the girls, now themselves wailing toddlers from climbing, hiding and destroying but felt uncomfortable with the minutes in between that she would normally have been dealing with the boys.  When the girls were content eating their snack and watching the childrens channel on the TV she sat down on the sofa, but found herself jumping up again, as if it was a thousand degrees.  It just felt, wrong.  There was so much she needed to be doing.  She felt every second needed to be utilised to its absolute maximum.

She had mentioned this to Luke when he came home from work that night.  As they sat closely on the soft, worn leather sofa with four children draped over them in various sleeping positions, she described how she had felt overwhelmed by having some more time.  Luke looked seriously at her.

 

"This conversation isn't going to end with 'I think I want another baby.' is it?"  Emma looked down and toyed with the idea of messing with him.  Then she looked at the four little sleepers they would have to tentatively carry up to bed. 

 

"No." she had said firmly "I think we are done with the baby portion of this programme."  She saw a look of relief in Lukes eyes.  The children all had his blue eyes.  And his dark hair.  She was pleased, she had always resented her plain mousy brown locks.  "I just need to start to learn that I might have time to actually think about me."  As it was, with the girls still at home it just meant that house keeping tasks became a little easier and she still did not really get any time for herself.  Going to do the shopping with two children instead of four had been a less daunting task.  But the girls had still been there, needing her, for the majority of the time thus adverting the need to think about herself. 

 

When the boys had gone to school and the girls started pre-school, Emma had filled her free mornings with a house keeping schedule.  She no longer had to try and do any of it with the children running around her offering 'help'.  That in itself felt like a luxury.  She was able to play and be creative with the children without feeling guilty that the floors needed mopping.  She felt she had found a happy medium.  She could keep on top of her jobs and be 'fun' mum.  It was far less stressful than the toddler years but still kept her extremely busy so she didn't have to think about what she would do once she wasn't needed as a 24 hour mother. 

 

But now, all four would be out of the house.  An event that had not happened since the day they were born.  She would have time of her own.  Luke had not really been able to understand her thinking about it so much.  He couldn't understand why she wasn't counting down the days considering the amount of times she exclaimed that she was living for the day she could use the bathroom in private.  She had tried to explain to him that he had kept part of his independent self over the last seven years through working, but that hadn't been the same for her.  Her job was with the children 24 hours a day, seven days a week.  It was what she had used to define herself and suddenly that was going to change.   

 

She couldn't explain after years of never giving herself a second thought, or even a glance, it felt like an alien self indulgent concept.  As much as the children were dependent on her she had become dependent on them, to keep her busy.  To give her a purpose.  To make her needed.  If she wasn't doing that anymore, she wasn't sure how she was going to feel.  She had spent years forgetting what she enjoyed.  Forgetting what she had once wanted.  Before she made the decision to do that she had found she had started to resent the children and hated herself for it.  The only way she believed she could rid herself of the feeling of frustration at being home with the children was to absorb herself in it.  To drift away from her friends with their high flying careers, smart clothes and disposable income.  She appreciated what she had; a husband; a home; healthy children.  She decided she needed to be completely dedicated to them.  

She missed her friendships, but worried that if she tried to resurrect them she would have nothing of any interest to bring to the relationships.  She knew she would listen to tales of office gossip and city life and when it was her turn to input something the fact that both Jaxson and Louie had their first 'dry' day together would be received like giving them a dirty nappy to smell.  Her life was so different to those of her once close group.     

 

She had met Luke at 17.  He was 21 and had just joined the Fire Service.  She was finishing her A-Levels at college and she fell head over heels in love with him, much to her parents dismay.  She claimed she no longer wanted to go away to University.  She could not comprehend the thought of being away from him.  Eventually she came to a compromise with her parents that she would not give up her opportunity to sit her degree as long as it was at the nearby University.  Her University years were so different to those of her friends.  While they 'partied to pull' she hurried home to snuggle on the sofa with Luke.  She graduated with honours, but had never done a thing with her achievement as she discovered a week after graduation that she was expecting the first set of twins.    

 

Now however, she was going to get time gifted back to her.  Time for the independence she had craved but turned away in order to cope.  She of course laughed along with her few 'mummy' acquaintances at The Academy gate that she couldn't wait for the start of next term when they would all be off to school.  But the main question asked was the one she couldn't answer "What will you do with yourself?"

 

She didn't know.  Well, she didn't know where to start was more accurate.  When all four of the children were babies it was just a pipe-dream, the school days.  It seemed like light years away.  But now that dream was, in effect, going to become a reality and Emma worried that sometimes dreams should be kept as such.  If you realise your dream, she wondered what you would have to aspire to?  To keep you going?  To answer 'the mummy's' question she was going to have to try and rediscover 'Emma' the individual rather than 'Emma - mother to four'.  She could sense a big change could be on the horizon for her if she wanted it, but was worried that big changes didn't always work well with the people that knew you before.  And that was the scariest thought of all.

This is one part of a series of fictional installments - to read more about Camomile Crescent and its residents click here

FICTION : Camomile Crescent - Danielle & Marc

19 Camomile Crescent - Danielle & Marc

Danielle Merchant heard her heavy metal knocker reverberate on the front door as it slammed shut.  This was shortly followed by the familiar jingle of her mothers set of keys hitting the glass 'key' bowl and the dull thud as her bag hit the restored original floor of the long narrow hallway. 

"Hi Mum." She called from her horizontal position on the couch.  She heard the quizzical pitter patter of her mothers feet approach the living room door and felt the cool air of the hall drift into her cosy duvet haven on the sofa, as the heavy pine door was tentatively pushed open. 

"Hello?" replied a puzzled voice "I wasn't expecting you to be in darling, are you o.k?" Danielle felt immediately better at the genuine note of concern in her mothers voice.  It didn't matter that she was in her late twenties now, if she felt under the weather just knowing her mother was near helped.  Danielle mustered the energy to push herself into a sitting position to see the familiar grey bobbed hair poking through the crack between the door and the frame.

"Just feel really rubbish." she sighed "I've felt like it for a couple of days."  She lowered herself back down as her mother came into the room and sat on the end of the stylish beige three-seater sofa.  "I went to work Monday and Tuesday but just couldn't stand the thought of feeling like this at my desk all day again.  I don't know what it is, feel a bit like I have the worst hangover of my life without the pleasure of having the night out."

"Oh dear.  You don't think it is food poisoning again do you?"  Her mother looked concerned.  Danielle had only suffered a severe dose recently.  Her mother put it down to one of the many 'fancy' restaurants she frequented with her job.  Her mother was unsure, if in the years that her daughter had lived at the house, the kitchen had ever been used at all.  It was an area of beauty she had to admit. It was a kitchen that even the top interior designers would drool over.  Everything was white gloss and chrome.  Every conceivable gadget resided on the marble worktops.  When it had been installed her mother thought that she might need a whole day just to clean the finger prints off of everything once a week. But it certainly never really needed cleaning.  Other than the crumbs around the toaster.  Of course, it had cost a small fortune - like most things in the house. 

When her mother had joked about it never being used Marc had scoffed "We want it kept stunning, not covered in Danielles useless attempts at home-making!" and laughed heartily at his own humour.  Danielle had laughed too and mimed using a fire extinguisher on the oven.  Although Marc sometimes wasn't always to her mothers taste, she had to admit the couple did seem on the same wavelength and that was all that mattered. 

Danielle shook her head confidently "Oh god no, certainly it isn't that again."  She shuddered at the mere memory of the two day hospital stay she had been forced to endure.  Danielle had a huge fear of hospitals, even private ones.  The plush rooms did not mask the fact that medical procedures would take place.

"Has Marc had anything?" Her mother asked spying the crushed articles that usually resembled cushions on the adjacent two-seater sofa.  Marc's trademark.  If it infuriated her mother as much as it did her, she didn't let it show.  Her mother flapped and pounded the squares back into shape as Danielle answered.

"No.  He doesn't really ever get sick does he.  Mind you, he is back in the States for three weeks on Friday so if he does he will be furious."  Marc was a much sought after Architect and spent at least half the year dealing with Clients across the Atlantic.  The other half he spent putting in 16 hours days at his London base.  Even Saturdays were generally spent in the home office.  Her friends all commented that they didn't know how they managed it, but for Danielle it had allowed her to be able to throw herself whole-heartedly into her high profile PA role.  She had spent years laying the groundwork to make herself indispensable and achieved it.  Once the head-hunting had started she had been in a position to command a salary increase that she had only ever dreamt about. 

The job required a ridiculous amount of hours but she thrived on it.  She was pleased to have met a man that was fully accepting of her work ethic rather than threatened.  So many of her previous boyfriends had been unable to understand her committment to her job.  But it was different with Marc.  They loved each other, but they also loved their careers and the affluent lifestyle if afforded them.  She felt content that they both had clear ideas about the life they wanted together. Unlike many of her friends who flew into romances with the unrealistic notion of it all being about love and lust whom, she was sure, would come to a cross roads that they would struggle with. 

Her mother came to 19 Camomile Crescent, twice a week during the day when she was normally at work.  Once to do the ironing and once to do the cleaning.  Danielle had insisted that she didn't have to give up her time to do it, that they could hire someone, but her mother was insistent claiming it would be a complete waste of money when she had plenty of time on her hands.  Marc said it was because Danielle was an only child.  That she liked to continue to spoil her in anyway she could.  Danielle liked this idea.  She also knew that since her father had retired early her mother liked having reasons to get out of the house.

"This had better pass by Friday anyway." Danielle stated brushing her auburn fringe back off of her face "I've got to go Milan with Juliette."  Juliette was her boss and it was sheer good luck that she was forced to be at a close family members funeral in Ireland today or she wouldn't have been afforded the luxury of laying on the sofa feeling like she had been on a bender with a rugby team - she would have been feeling it whilst being at the beck and call of the company MD.  She had only just recovered her reputation and curbed the digs from her colleagues about being a 'sick-note' from the two day hospital stay.  She should not have returned to work on her release from hospital, she was signed off for a further week, but Danielle knew there would be no job to return too. 

 

Employment legislation did not fit in with the reality of her role.  She had not even called in sick today.  She had diarised that she was researching venues for the next Client Retreat.  Juliette wanted 'Country Chic'.  Danielle calculated that with Juliette forcibly occupied with the funeral she could claim 'no mobile signal' for the majority of day to the rest of her colleagues on this basis.

"You can't help being unwell darling." Her mother offered once again.  She had said the same thing at hospital.  She was proud of her daughter but worried about the demanding schedule she always seemed to be trying to keep up with.  She understood that she was from a different generation but was concerned that both Danielle and Marc's unwavering determination within their career paths would mean they would come to a point, too late in their lives, to realise that there was more to life than work. 

 

She had only asked about children once, Marc had baulked "That's not for us." Danielle had laughed "Having children makes you unstable - look at all the crazy people buying up the houses in this street at extortionate prices just to get their kids into that school!" Marc agreed "That's right.  We want to work hard now so we can enjoy the pleasures in life," he paused and looked at Danielle taking her hand "and each other, further down the line."  Her mother had smiled at the gesture of affection but refrained from saying that children were a pleasure of life.

"No, I can't help being unwell, but I do just have to get on with it." Danielle exhaled deeply.  "It's just frustrating that I don't seem to be feeling any better.  My job is exhausting enough when I am able to do it feeling completely on the ball.  I could do without having the added burden of having to 'act' like I am feeling great when I'm not."

Her mother looked at her sympathetically "Maybe it's just your bodies way of telling you to slow down and catch up on some sleep?"  Danielle looked like her little girl again lying, hair unbrushed and without her usual immaculate make up.

"Maybe.  Better make the most of it anyway and work on my mind over matter techniques in case I still feel like it tomorrow."  She pulled the duvet up to her chin, allowing herself some self indulgent pity.

"I'll make us a cup of coffee shall I?" Her mother asked picking up dirty glasses from the coffee table and heading to the door.

"Ugh no thank you.  I don't think I can face anything." Danielle replied burying her head in the pillow "I think I am just going to try and sleep it off."  With her general lack of enthusiasm for any type of medicine, even as a child Danielle had always maintained that she could get through most illnesses by sleeping.

"Well if you need anything just give me a shout.  I'm going to start with cleaning the upstairs bathroom." She moved to the door "Do the bins need emptying?"

"Ah yes, sorry." Danielle squinted apologetically.  She didn't mind her mother cleaning but she didn't think that she should have to literally pick up after them.  Marc didn't seem to have the same thought process, but then again, Danielle was unsure if any man did when it came to tidying up after themselves.

"No problem." Her mother said waving her hand dismissively to Danielle's guilt "I'll take some bags up that's all."

"Thanks mum." Danielle mustered and flopped back onto the pillow.  She really couldn't seem to do anything to alleviate the drained, motion sickness feeling that was pulsing throughout her body.  She literally felt as if she had been out on a choppy sea for a month.  Maybe her mother was right and she needed some time to chill out and relax.  She would mention the idea of a holiday to Marc before he left for the States so they could try and match up some potential dates.  Although, Lord knows, that was never easy.  The most either of them could ever offer was a long weekend.    Despite this she smiled as she recalled their last break.  Although they may not have been able to get away as much as they might like due to their jobs, it was that very thing that allowed them to holiday in true luxury.  Yes, she decided, it was time to speak to her travel guru and get something amazing booked up. 

Her mother gently closed the door on her daughter and made her way to the utility room to gather the cleaning box.  It was always exactly as she had left it.  When she was running low on something she wrote what she needed on the expensive board on the wall and Danielle added it to the weekly Internet order.  Her mother struggled with the fact that despite them being out of the house so much, they ordered the same things week by week, which she invariably ended up either taking home to use or throwing away.  She collected the new bathroom cleaner, rubber gloves and cloths out of the cupboard and made her way up the stairs.  The one room in the house that was always used and in need of attention was the bathroom.  As it was usually the biggest job she liked to start with it first.

Her daughter and Marc had made the fourth, smaller, bedroom into a magnificent, decedent bathroom.  With multiple upright towel rails, sunken double 'his and hers' sinks in an amazing vanity unit, a wall length shower cubicle with rain forest head and a huge freestanding bath.  Not a single personal affect needed to be on display, there was a place for everything.  That was how it looked after her mother had finished with it.  A show bathroom.  However, that was not the case now. 

 

Damp towels were strewn haphazardly over the side of the bath and shower door.  An array of lid-less bottles adorned most surfaces.  She could tell Marc had been home for a few days.  She wondered how someone with so much intelligence did not have the ability to close the cap on the shower gel that had since spent the morning dripping down the glass door and black, glitter flecked tiles.

Opening up a rubbish bag she pulled open the cabinet door with the hidden waste bin.  It was overflowing with as many articles chucked around it as in it.  She began collecting the items up.  Multiple empty contact lens packs, used cotton buds, make up remover wipes, three empty contraceptive pill foils.  She paused.  Three?  She sighed.  She was all for the contraceptive pill - her daughter was in a long term relationship - but Danielle seemed used them to control her cycle according to her work schedule.  She had mentioned how wonderful it was to be able to just continue the pill and not have to deal with periods whilst on work trips or busy weeks.  Her mother had been horrified but as usual only aired it with her husband.  She didn't like the idea of her daughter confusing her body, how easy would it be to 'unconfuse' it she had asked him.

Her mother placed them in the rubbish bag.  No doubt having that much, well whatever it was, pumped into her body wasn't helping how she was feeling.  Maybe she would mention it?  No, Danielle would be feeling enough pressure with not being at work and feeling under par without her adding to it.  She decided to just go about her business as she normally would and make sure Danielle had everything she needed before she left.  She stood, knotting the rubbish bag and placing it by the door.  Picking up the cleaning spray and cloths she turned and faced the shower, her nemesis.  She took a deep breath "I'm going in..." she muttered to herself.

 

 

This is part 2 of a series.  You can find all installments to 'Camomile Crescent' here.

'

What Has Made Me Cheerful This Week?

It seems to have been a while since I have last participated in Reasons To Be Cheerful.  Then again it seems to have been a while since I have done anything that I was in the routine of doing for the other 46 weeks of the year. 

The six weeks holidays however, have once again flown past in the blur of an eye and now we are in preparation mode for getting J1 ready to go back to school.  I can see 'regular routine' within touching distance.  Stepping out of routine is and has been lovely.  But I also enjoy it and feel both myself, but moreover the children, are starting to crave it again now.

This week in particular has been packed out with with moments to be cheerful about however, so I wish the boys to have it recorded in our memory box.

1. We attended the two days of flight frenzy fun that is our local Airshow.  J2 in particular is hugely into aeroplanes and helicopters at the moment and he was in his element.  We also had great weather (unlike last year) so were able to make it two full beach days.  We were up and out early as we had handpicked one small section of the beach that would be suitable for both J1 and J2.  A difficult task.  It (luckily) is also the best spot from which to watch the displays, but armed with this knowledge know how busy it gets, so knew we would have to be the early bird to catch the worm.

On day two The (mighty) Red Arrows were opening the display.  The other thing about the spot we were camped on is that the audio commentary area is broadcast from an elevated area directly behind it.  I got wind that The Arrows team member 'Red 10' was up on the balcony so was trying to snap a photograph of him.  They were not very successful and then he disappeared from view.  I kept looking up to see if he had returned to his viewing area (he would be watching the display and giving the descriptions of what the crowd was seeing) but to no avail.  Giving up gracefully I proceeded to pour sea water on J1's hot feet from the buckets my mum and J2 had been kind enough to bring to us.

I would never had predicted what was about to happen next.  As J1 whooped with delight at the cold liquid hitting his little feet a voice said 'Hello!'  I turned around to find Red 10 standing behind J1's chair 'Someone said that you were trying to get my attention so I thought it would be easier for me to come to you.' he continued.  Still quite stunned I explained (read 'squealed') that both my boys love aeroplanes and I had been trying to get a photograph of him to show J1. 

He knelt down to J1's eye-level, a gesture that means so much and addressed him directly.  J1 asked him what his name was 'Mike' he replied 'I am a member of the Red Arrows.'  They had a very coherent conversation of which I was very proud and touched by.  Then he said 'Let's take some photos of us together.'  I snapped away, praying that I would get a good one.  He then got a signal that the Arrows were mere minutes away and departed to undertake his role within the display.

To say it made our day is an understatement and I was moved by the act of genuine kindness.  Not only from Mike 'Red 10' but the man that alerted him to the fact that a young boy was unable to see him from where he was.

And I was most pleased with the photos!

 

 

2. After two weeks rest and an appointment with a sport physiotherapist (with some minor treatment and lots of advice about Patella Tendon injury) I was given the all clear to run.  This was just in time for the final Summer Series 5K I have been participating in.  I didn't realise just how much I had missed pounding the pavements!

 

3. The Paralympics have started to an amazing reception.  I am as avid a fan and watcher as I was for The Olympics and can not wait for Wednesday when we are off to see the Athletic action LIVE!  Roll on Wednesday and some - overly excited - written blog posts about it.

 

4. I started the 'Fiction' section on this blog.  This was a big decision for me, as it is very much putting myself out there for criticism and I am not sure how I will handle that when it invariably happens.  However, it is what I need to do if I ever want to seriously getting into the world of writing.  I think I certainly add it to my list of 'Things To Do That Scare Me.' for this year.

 

5. We are slowly but surely getting on with researching everything we need to do / know / find out with regard to taking J1 on a holiday of a lifetime.  We are also doing well with being proactive with getting demo's for bikes / wheelchair power packs / mobile hoists booked in.

 

6. We had a lovely family day out at the Zoo yesterday.  Our local Zoo has both a Changing Place and a fully wheelchair accessible land train, which J1 and J2 both adored.  We also managed to get brilliant deals on the Gold Card so can now visit whenever we like for a whole year. 

 

For other cheery souls this week hop over to Mummy From The Heart! 



FICTION - Camomile Crescent

In recent years Camomile Crescent had become one of the most sought after residential streets in the large town of Wishbourne.  It had not always been that way.  For most years of it's existence it had been a leafy, but run of the mill, road with a small underachieving school at the end of it.  No one was particularly bothered by it's Victorian style houses because the people living in them could not afford to restore them to their original beauty.

 

However, after a new Government initiative was cleverly snapped up by the new 'business minded' school Head Teacher, an unprecedented turn around in the schools fortunes occurred.  The shabby local comprehensive became the local 'Academy of Excellence' with a new multi-million pound, modern framework replacing the old tired seventies building.  An institution that would cater for pre-school to sixth form.  After several years ruthless recruiting and head hunting of the best academic teaching staff, the school started to achieve outstanding, and head turning OFSTED results - year after year.

 

The undesirable became the desirable.  And with that came the flood of those that were pushy (and rich) enough to secure their childs place within the Academy.  Parents of moderate means living in the area found the school was 'over subscribed'.  As such the Academy sent out many letters stating 'unfortunately The Academy can not accommodate your child at this time.' forcing parents to send their sons and daughters instead on a 45 journey across town.

 

Crazy parenting however, came to a heady climax when a staff member finally blew the whistle on the fact that the Head Teacher was taking multiple financial bribes from the highest bidders for the places for little Harry or Harriett.  Following a comprehensive investigation and the appointment of a morally endowed Head Teacher, a whole new wave of competitiveness was born into the town.

 

Places were allocated according to a strict post-code agenda.  Families, who had for years, lived in the surrounding roads, avenues and lanes found themselves inundated with unsolicited offers for purchase of their properties.  Those that could no longer buy their way into the school, wanted to buy themselves into the area around it, thus providing an in-road for their offspring. 

 

The older generation living in the area, with their own children long grown, had been keen to sell their properties for the ridiculously over inflated prices they had been offered.  Of course the purchasers didn't actually want to leave their big, lavish houses to live in the Victorian properties they claimed the deeds too.  They simply needed the address.  This cunning plan was subsequently thwarted when it became apparent that half of the homes in the area were unoccupied.  Rules were again set in place that qualifying addresses must be occupied by the applicants for at least 10 months of the year.

 

Within months of the new rules taking effect the area became over run with affluent families with children from the ages of conception (and before) to teens all residing in homes duly extended, renovated and restored.  But in amongst the new tenants were those that had not bought their way in.  Families that had always lived in the nice street in a quiet area that had once had a small school at the end of it.  Couples who liked their character Victorian home and were not prepared to be bought out of a place they had made a multitude of memories.  Those who were not of the same, driven mindset of their neighbours that had arrived on the doorstep. 

 

It was the birth of the Academy and it's ensuing success that single-handedly helped develop the most unlikely collection of tenants in one district.  For some reason the most sought after one being Camomile Crescent.  No one really knew why, many said it was the name.  A road that now housed an uncomfortable mix of married couples of moderate means, young families who by chance happened to be living in the area already and those rich and pushy enough to have placed themselves into it.

 

The residents of Camomile Crescent and their different lifestyles might ask if they can all live in such close proximity?  Can who they live near, really make that much difference to  their lives?  Are things between houses really as different as they seem? 

 

Can the residents of Camomile Crescent love thy neighbour?

What Has Happened to The Mother Duck?

Well, she is still alive and well!  Writing about Motherhood is wonderful, but with that comes the exception that sometimes actually 'doing' Motherhood takes precedence.

And that is exactly what has happened since 20 July 2012, my last blog post.  The Summer Holidays hit.  That six week period that you both look forward to and dread.  You get excited about the extra time with your babies.  No watching the clock and getting stressed with the school run traffic.  No uniform to get washed, dried and ironed in record time. 

Yet at the same time, you are thinking how on earth are you going to get everything done that you would normally do during the school day?  The answer - you are not.  How are you going to keep them entertained but not spoilt?  The answer - you just do.

And that is exactly what we have been doing around here.  We have been enjoying the Summer Break from school.  However I forgot just how much more time having two children at home full time takes up. 

I can not just blame the arrival of the Summer Holidays for my writing abandonment though.  The London 2012 Olympics has to also take some of the blame.  I have been hooked on it since the first bar of music at the [fantastic] Opening Ceremony.  I have watched with awe and pride.  I have been inspired.

Which leads me to factor number three having a detrimental affect on my writing efforts.  Running.  I am so hooked on running again that I have got a 'proper' training schedule and everything now.  I am on a four week preparation programme before I hit the eight week one for my 10 mile race in October.  This requires at least three mid-week runs and a weekend.  Therefore my 'free' time is generally having to be spent pounding the pavements.

Time is scarce at the best of times, but even more thinly spread than normal right now.  But September is a mere weeks away.  The Olympic flame will fade.  School will resume.  Writing will get a look in once more.

In the mean time I will endeavour to post as and when I can.  There is lots going on in our world that I wish to record in our journal of life.