And back to normality (more or less)

We picked up a new (to us) car today. A Kia Sportage, it's a bit bigger than the little hatchback we've had to squeeze into for the past few years. I apologise in advance for the trail of broken wing-mirrors I will probably leave through town. Son Number One is trying to make me feel guilty for choosing an unnecessarily large car ('Why not just hold a gun to Mother Nature's head?' was one comment), but while browsing cars with us last week, he was judging them by the amount of cricket equipment he could fit in the boot. This one got the nod because 'we could probably get four cricket bags in there.' He doesn't seem to be taking into account that he gets our old car and will thus be driving himself and assorted team-mates around in that. No, we don't need such a big, chunky car, but I was spoilt when we had our old people carrier and like sitting higher up so I can see what's going on. Son Number One says I should drive an HGV in that case, but that's taking things a little too far. I'd never be able to park in the multi-storey. 

The Husband used to be able to drive HGVs. He had to learn during his army days, and took his test in Cambridge on a Saturday morning. The centre of Cambridge, for those not in the know, is a chaos of students on bicycles, and is best avoided. Especially if you're a learner in an army truck. 

He admitted, not so long ago, that the reverse parking part of the test was aided by the army driving instructors, through use of strategically placed cigarette ends on the ground. He drove the trucks down to Salisbury Plain a few times, where they had ridiculous exercises like driving for miles in convoy at two in the morning with no headlights. They would do this for several hours, prodding each other to keep awake, and then go on shelling exercises where they'd pretend to bomb non-existent objects. A bit like the Brownies really...

My OU counselling course has started, so I've done all of the important things like buying highlighter pens and sticky notes. I think I only do courses for the stationary shopping I can get away with. I've just signed up for an RE course for school as well, so I may need some sharp new pencils and a range of notebooks, too. The RE course involves three assignments and a self-assessment, and can take anything from two weeks to two months, depending on how motivated students are. That'll be two months, then... I can choose to study up to four 'religions/world beliefs' in depth, but it doesn't tell me what I can choose from. I'm hoping for Cargo Cults, Voodoo and that religion that worships Prince Philip, but won't hold my breath. 

And now I must get back into the habit of studying. Better fill up the kettle...
  

Reasons to be cheerful

And now I must stop the self-pity and get on with things...

The Husband and Sons went to the cinema yesterday to see Noah. Recovering from the most disgusting of colds, and feeling vaguely seasick due to blocked ears, I excused myself and settled down to watch several hours worth of House instead. (I had also read reviews which said the film was 'The Bible meets Mad Max', and that really didn't appeal.) Three episodes in, we had a power cut. Thanks to a new coffee machine, I was full of caffeine jitters, so decided to sort out the bookshelves. Although I would love to have my books in alphabetical order, I've not had that shelf space for years, so everything is piled up randomly. Through careful rearrangement, I now have space for another twenty or so books, and if that's not reason enough to be positive, I don't know what is. 

Another plus - the new OU course book has arrived. Rather disappointing that it's just the one book, but I've started reading and it's all written in plain English, thank goodness. 

The course is entitled 'Counselling: Exploring Fear and Sadness', (yes, yes, I know...) and brings in the history of psychotherapy as well as the different methods of counselling used today. And, yes, Freud. I have yet to take a course in which he doesn't make an appearance. I also have to decide upon my next course which will start in September, but which can be booked next month. I've decided against 20th Century Literature because I hated most of the set books. I think I may go for the one called 'Why is religion controversial?' but there's still time to change my mind half a dozen times yet. I've been asked if I'm interested in doing an RE course for school as well. It's three assignments plus a self-assessment, and I've kind of said yes. I really must stop doing that. I have a feeling that these things get passed around the staff room and everyone says, 'Nah... I don't want to do that,' and The Boss Lady thinks, 'I know someone who'll do it...'

What else? Son Number One was going camping in Wales with The Girlfriend and her family, but family politics have resulted in them both staying at home (her family, not ours. We don't do politics. We just drink too much and discuss conspiracy theories.). I'm am very selfishly glad they're not going, because that means we can have a proper family Easter. What with everything that's been going on, it will be good to get together (The Daughter's coming up from Cornwall) and talk rubbish. We have all been invited to my parents as usual, and will be able to show support to my dad without all the 'emotional crap' that he hates so much. In other words, we'll turn up, drink all of his wine, and the male members of the family will give him manly punches on the shoulder while he eyes the females worriedly in case they cry. 

And now I must peruse Amazon. I have bookshelf space to fill. 

Results

My dad got his cancer test results yesterday. We knew he had prostate cancer, but they had to see how aggressive the cells were, and thus how likely they were to spread. He was told that the cells are scaled from 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst. His are a 9. 

So he's on hormone treatment for the rest of his life. He says he can handle the bone-thinning and hot flushes he'll have, but doesn't know what colour handbag will go with his shoes. He has to have a scan to see whether the cancer has spread to his bones. If it has, that means six to eight weeks of radiotherapy at Addenbrookes hospital. Every weekday. If it hasn't spread, it's just the hormone therapy to shrink the tumour along with regular checks. And I'll treat him to something pretty in the sales...

He's trying to be positive. We all are, but after this long wait we had all been hoping for better news. 

The return of family life in... 3...

Just three days until I get my life back. I feel I've really let my family down these past couple of months, so I'll be making the most of spending the Easter holidays with them. The Daughter and her boyfriend are heading this way for a few days, and it will be great to see them. I'm also looking forward to a belated Mother's Day trip somewhere, having put it off because I had too much work to do. My dad has an appointment to discuss his cancer op results next week, so everyone has their fingers crossed for that. It's been a very long month since his operation. People we know seem to have had their results within days if they needed urgent treatment, so we're hoping the wait for the results is a good thing. 

What with everything that's been going on in the last couple of months, I'm left feeling rather dull and empty. I've not felt like this since my grandmother died a few years ago, but then I worked with The Boss Lady and she made me talk it out. She would make a point of shutting the classroom door, first thing in the morning before the children arrived for school, and would just listen, passing tissues and generally being brilliant. I would then have time to sort myself out and present a normal face to the children. I've been prone to depression since I was a teenager, but haven't needed antidepressants for a good 14 years, and I want it to stay that way. I have recently been told that I set myself very high targets and never manage to convince myself I've met them. The Daughter (trainee counsellor) has told me there's a fine line between being a perfectionist and being obsessive. I think I may have crossed that line a few times in the past weeks. 

Ms Fab is living up to her name: telling me off for not eating, and keeping me going until this week is finally over. 

Cheers, Fab. I owe you. 

Ms Titian has organised a 'Teaching assistant and secretary evening' for Friday, which is not as suspect as it sounds, and means that her husband will be banished to the pub while we consume vast amounts of wine. 

I feel I'm pretending to be someone else at the moment, and am really looking forward to being me again.