Welcome to my blog. Grams is the name my first grandson gave me and it's stuck. My great loves: My husband, our nine children, twenty five grandchildren, four great grandchildren, my Faith, writing- prose and poetry - and travelling , especially in our camper. My posts are eclectic and I appreciate getting comments. So, please feel free to comment or offer advice on what you would like to to see more of.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
The Urge
The Urge ( a writing exercise)
The urge to interrupt him before he was finished was overwhelming. I wanted to stand up and clap and cheer. It was all so exhilarating and I couldn't believe that I was here, at last.
It had been my dream for over twenty two years, since my eldest child was born. That’s when I put myself on hold, putting the needs of family first. I wouldn’t say it was a sacrifice but all that I did was for them – my husband and seven children. We didn't plan to have that many – well not in the way that other people understand planning. We just decided we’d have the family that nature brought us. So, you could say that family was my career. And now with little Kate just gone up to grammar school, life was changing for me. They still needed me, yes, but I had more time on my hands. And with Neil having a good position in the NHS and still climbing the ladder, money was not an issue.
When I left Boots they threw a party for me. Elaine and Sue had started with me eight years before. We only did part time while the children were at school. We had become good friends helping each other out with covering shifts and child care. Even the area manager came to the party. He said if ever I wanted to come back there would always be a job for me. He had wittered on about it being hard to find reliable staff. But I felt no allegiance to the company, only to the people I worked with. There was no way I was going back, I thought.
The UCAS procedure was no mystery any more. Apart from helping my two eldest with their applications I had also encouraged many of their friends with theirs. But when I was doing my own, the personal statement, that all important factor in the process became a huge hurdle for me to leap. Ironically my children were able to give me objective advice that proved invaluable in the end.
Unbelievably, I was accepted at Oxford to do Maths and Philosophy. As we lived just outside Oxford it seemed the perfect choice. But actually getting in - well – I never quite expected it.
The Maths lecturer, a handsome man, about forty, scruffily clad, had me enthralled and as I listened my doubts dissolved, a whole new world opened up to me and I knew I had made the right decision.
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