Life begins at 60?
Since I retired I have become a writer, flower arranger,judge for Yorkshire in Bloom assisted in and presented on a local radio station, volunteer on an allotment for adults with disabilities and help to run a social enterprise with profits going to mental health charities etc etc
I live in West Yorkshire and spend much of the summer at the Yorkshire coast.
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H is for Home
I had always felt quite at home with myself, no matter the
However, as a wife and mother spending some time alone at
university in France, I missed my home for the first time in my life.
I longed for the patter of feet and arguments to wake me up
in the morning and even the constant enquiries as to where such or such an
object was to be found would have been welcome.
Although distracted by friends and studies, I lacked my
reason for being.I had not yet built up
common traditions with my new community.None of us conversed in our mother tongue, so perhaps we were frustrated
with our inability to express our feelings meaningfully.Our only insight into each other’s lives and
homes was by hearsay and imagination; no shared history.
Perhaps, given longer, we would have formed stronger bonds,
celebrated milestones or experienced common loss.
I realise that I felt no nostalgia for the material goods
and trappings of my house.It was the absence
of the essence of home which, to me, is family, friends and our way of
life.Home is where you are given unconditional
love, where there is the security of a support network developed over time;
your comfort zone.
My father's family; he was one of 11! My mother was one of 5 and I was one of 4 giving us an enormous family.