I’ve been using the TV more and more lately; it’s part of managing my lack of wellness. Also I’m trying to balance the introduction of the children to not-for-children telly with the general wellbeing of the children, who are more sensitive than many I know to the gross injustices of the world. No they actually are.
The ten-year-old (she said casually, as though she’d had a ten-year-old for AGES) has watched a little of the BBC’s “The Story of Women in Art” and it’s only moderately distressing (once upon a time, there were loads of women doing art, and they were marginalised and excluded and written out of history and they still are, is the basic story, but the bit where they show the actual art is amazing). She’s watching it in the early parts of the day and processing it in the afternoons, which involves a lot of thinking and a bit of growling.
The seven-year-old was given a carding comb and a couple of drop spindles the other day, and she’s gradually carding some wool she found on fences in Wales preparatory to spinning it. We did a bit by rolling it between our hands last year, but this is the real deal.
And the three-year-old has been making necklaces. It turns out she can get the kitchen supply of drinking straws, and cut them into bead lengths, and thread them on some string from the ball her sister bought with her own money. Which is very clever and involves a lot of boundary-bending. Hmm.
We had a family holiday, the five of us, for two weeks, and although the eldest child had tonsillitis and I had more of my same lack of wellness, it was lovely and enriching and rewarding.
I feel posts lurking in the back of my drafts folder, and if I’m lucky I’ll be able to get them out into the world. You never know.
There’s one about the police.