About Cambridge, friends, and holding a baby

Today I saw a post on the Cambridge News, whereby Yorkshire people were saying how much lamer the Cambridge organization has been for the Tour de France thing happening around here than them (plus nobody has yet been able to explain to me why on earth the Tour de FRANCE is in the UK in the first place).
Cambridge is most definitely flat, which makes it easy to cycle it and saves lots of car money, but it isn’t so much boring as incredibly repetitive. As a dear friend of mine said a while back about it having too much of a Groundhog Day effect, it does. The same people, more or less, doing the same things: over and over and over again. The same festivals, the same activities, every time.
Today some old neighbours came to visit, after their first year spent in Houston, Texas. C, mum of two little ones, reminded us how heart-broken she was about leaving Cambridge, worried as she was that she was taking her children away form a stable and safe environment, away form her grandparents… But now, she is so glad they did.
You don’t realise what a golden golden cage Cambridge is till you leave it. Or, like me, when you have learnt to see through a lot of illusions, and you don’t let Cambridge smother you in her comforting, sweetly scented veil.
It was good to see them, sad to see them go. But the kids were happy to have met, and they re-instilled a willingness to keep moving, to keep going, to snap out of Cambridge’s unfeeling but comfortable embrace and get going out there, go anywhere, but keep moving.
Of course, before the kids and I can move, we have to let my youngest son finish his high school. So there is time, during which I hope to see our friends settle into what they have made their home happily.

Where to next, I don’t know.
Ideally, I’d love to go somewhere where speaking of a miscarriage is done openly and shared at the very least with all women you know, but possibly even with the men. I would like to be in a place where I don’t need to hear that two women have never held a baby until they held their own, and then realising this may well be true about me too. It’d be nice to go to a place where people cared more about other people, even if they are not their families or friends, than making money or abstract stuff. But, it seems, that does not exist.
So, anywhere is good. Anywhere that will keep us rolling until Daughter is a teenager at which point, for her sake, we’ll find a good place to stop for her adolescence, like we did for the boys.

My experience in Cambridge has been the calmest in my whole life, that is for certain. I have often said “be careful what you wish for, as it may come true”, and god only knows how much I prayed and hoped and cried for peace, an uneventful life, just quiet and calm and steadiness. And, despite a few outbursts here and there, this has really been one of the most peaceful times in my life. Conflicts here were few and far between, and were mostly caused by my coming to terms with parts of me I’d been fighting for a long time. Like realising I am still arrogant, I am actually pretty harsh and quick in my judgements and I have very little tolerance for people who are too far removed from my own principles and views. The secret to finding peace about, however, was for me to give up trying to fight them, and realising that we need to embrace all of ourselves.. before we can ask of others to love us and accept us as we are, we have to do it first.
I am not over it all yet, I still get the occasional pang of guilt where I tell myself: “You know better than this Val, you know what the correct and altruistic ad fair behaviour would be”. But now, I say to myself: I have as much right as anyone else to have a narrow mnd, a narrow view of the world, or, if not narrow, at least MY own view of the world. So I have made peace with all the stuff that I may have judged harshly about myself, but they are just me, and so blip it, that’s me. Love it or leave it.

So yeah, having made my peace with my unpeaceful self, and having realised that enough peace is enough, bring on the unrest. I am ready to move on.

Oggi ho visto un post sul Cambridge News, dove si diceva che la gente dello Yorkshire diceva quanto fosse triste la gente di Cambridge nell’organizzare roba intorno all’evento dell’arrivo e la ripartenza del Tour de France da Cambridge (che poi ancora nessuno mi ha saputo spiegare perche’ diavolo il tour de France passi dall’Inghilterra) them.
Cambridge is most definitely flat, which makes it easy to cycle it and saves lots of car money, but it isn’t so much boring as incredibly repetitive. As a dear friend of mine said a while back about it having too much of a Groundhog Day effect, it does. The same people, more or less, doing the same things: over and over and over again. The same festivals, the same activities, every time.
Today some old neighbours came to visit, after their first year spent in Houston, Texas. C, mum of two little ones, reminded us how heart-broken she was about leaving Cambridge, worried as she was that she was taking her children away form a stable and safe environment, away form her grandparents… But now, she is so glad they did.
You don’t realise what a golden golden cage Cambridge is till you leave it. Or, like me, when you have learnt to see through a lot of illusions, and you don’t let Cambridge smother you in her comforting, sweetly scented veil.
It was good to see them, sad to see them go. But the kids were happy to have met, and they re-instilled a willingness to keep moving, to keep going, to snap out of Cambridge’s unfeeling but comfortable embrace and get going out there, go anywhere, but keep moving.
Of course, before the kids and I can move, we have to let my youngest son finish his high school. So there is time, during which I hope to see our friends settle into what they have made their home happily.

Where to next, I don’t know.
Ideally, I’d love to go somewhere where speaking of a miscarriage is done openly and shared at the very least with all women you know, but possibly even with the men. I would like to be in a place where I don’t need to hear that two women have never held a baby until they held their own, and then realising this may well be true about me too. It’d be nice to go to a place where people cared more about other people, even if they are not their families or friends, than making money or abstract stuff. But, it seems, that does not exist.
So, anywhere is good. Anywhere that will keep us rolling until Daughter is a teenager at which point, for her sake, we’ll find a good place to stop for her adolescence, like we did for the boys.

My experience in Cambridge has been the calmest in my whole life, that is for certain. I have often said “be careful what you wish for, as it may come true”, and god only knows how much I prayed and hoped and cried for peace, an uneventful life, just quiet and calm and steadiness. And, despite a few outbursts here and there, this has really been one of the most peaceful times in my life. Conflicts here were few and far between, and were mostly caused by my coming to terms with parts of me I’d been fighting for a long time. Like realising I am still arrogant, I am actually pretty harsh and quick in my judgements and I have very little tolerance for people who are too far removed from my own principles and views. The secret to finding peace about, however, was for me to give up trying to fight them, and realising that we need to embrace all of ourselves.. before we can ask of others to love us and accept us as we are, we have to do it first.
I am not over it all yet, I still get the occasional pang of guilt where I tell myself: “You know better than this Val, you know what the correct and altruistic ad fair behaviour would be”. But now, I say to myself: I have as much right as anyone else to have a narrow mnd, a narrow view of the world, or, if not narrow, at least MY own view of the world. So I have made peace with all the stuff that I may have judged harshly about myself, but they are just me, and so blip it, that’s me. Love it or leave it.

So yeah, having made my peace with my unpeaceful self, and having realised that enough peace is enough, bring on the unrest. I am ready to move on.

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