Do you ever linger longer than makes sense? I’m a terrible lingerer. That well known song Don’t Dilly Dally on the Way might well have been written for me. I have, in fact, perfected the Ancient Art of Lingering.
I think it’s partly the feeling of not wanting something to be over, finished and done with, consigned to the “done that” box forever, or at least until
someone decides to open the box one more time, many years later and wonders why it was such a big deal at the time.
The Twins, Tala and Lilia, take this
principle much further than I, with their obsession with All Things Christmas. As far as they are concerned, it’s Christmas all year round. I am not (quite) that bad. Promise….
And yet, and yet…
“Shall I take the bunting in the back garden down for you?” the Lovely Kay (who helps me keep my
house in order) asked me, the day after all the Platinum Jubilee Celebrations were over. I thought about it for all of a minute then said, maybe not till after granddaughter Katie, her fella and Nola the dog had visited the following weekend? I implied that
my granddaughter, having missed out on our Lovely Jubbly family party would be most put out if she arrived to find the garden stripped of Union Jack bunting. When, in actual fact, it was an example of classic lingering on my part - I just didn’t want
it all to be over.
I’m the same with birthdays. It’s now eleven days since my birthday, and thirteen days since our anniversary - but the greetings
cards are still festooning the sideboard and strung up on lines across the living room walls. So lovely they are, every one a greeting from someone dear to me. Here’s the card from my Little Sister - inside she has written “My second mother. My
first friend. That’s my sister.” I need to leave it where I can see it, read it, feel my eyes prickle. Just a little bit longer.
I know the time
will come when someone arrives - maybe one of the District Nurses who doesn’t know us very well - and asks “Whose birthday is it?” and I shall have to confess that it was mine, four, five, six weeks ago. That’s when I will feel I must
finally pack them all away in my 2022 memories box, recognising (reluctantly) that I have lingered long enough in Birthday Land.
Have you heard the joke about
the person who had lots of Get Well Soon cards prominently displayed about her house? She reckoned they would serve as a brilliant excuse for not doing any housework, everyone would be far too sympathetic to carp about the crumbs on the carpet, the dusty window-sills,
the unpolished mirrors. Well that would be me, then, but without the excellent reasoning behind it. I wouldn’t want to put them away, it’s just too special knowing people are thinking of you and wishing you well. Not that I’ve actually been
ill, you understand, but if I had been, and if people had been kind enough to send best wishes - well, those cards would still be out for all to see long after I was up and running like a good’un.
Take Christmas. Tala and Lilia would be proud of me. Some folk are quick to take down all their decorations on Boxing Day. “That’s it!” they will say, “Christmas is over for another year…”
They don’t actually add “Thank goodness” but you can tell that’s what they’re thinking. Me, I leave my Christmas decorations up to the very last minute -Twelfth Night - sometimes even longer.When Mr B was in hospital / nursing
home for two months at the end of 2020 / beginning of 2021, he missed so many Significant Events. There was the anniversary of the day we met, the whole Christmas Festival, New Year’s Eve and Day, plus his own birthday. I vowed not to remove the decorations,
the Christmas tree with all its baubles, the candles, the cards until we had celebrated everything he had missed. We were well into March before I finally did the decent thing and consigned Christmas to the loft. The spiders had had a field day, I can assure
That’s it - that’s the end of today’s Daily Blog. Off you go and find something much more useful and interesting to do.
I’ll just sit here and linger a little longer…