Just at the moment, Mr Namasi and I are facing some really significant life challenges. Each one daunting on its own, but when they gang up like this, it can be somewhat overwhelming. Just to prove that I'm not exaggerating, our list of challenges includes (but is not restricted to):
I'm sure you get the picture. Things are pretty bleak. And yet, and yet...
We've introduced what we call 'austerity budget' and have cut corners all over the place. We've had to do this before and, as before, somehow it's fun. Planning meals together, choosing cheaper everything, and buoying each other up with the make-do mentality and the fact that we're in it together. Something as mundane as a chocolate bar becomes a real treat, and we appreciate the little things so much more.
I recently came home from work to find that a friend-and-colleague had popped a chocolate bar into my handbag. I gave it to Mr Namasi, because it happened to be a Boost and he needed one.
A friend treated me to a Sunday roast dinner out, which was such a blessing.
After a protracted battle with HMRC, who kept sending me letters to say I owed them money, in spite of the fact that they had already confirmed more than once that this was not the case, I finally spoke to someone who was able to stop the regular letters. This person was also able to tell me, that not only did I not owe them any money, but they owed me £100. Mr Namasi and I had foregone birthday presents due to budget cuts, and I decided that we would split the money and each buy ourselves a £50 gift.
As part of the ongoing downsizing project, I've been advertising some of our belongings online, and a few of them have sold. It's just £10 here and £15 there. But those little windfalls feel significant when they're dropping into an empty cache in a way they wouldn't have done under normal circumstances.
And then, of course, things go wrong - things you just don't have the budget for. The glass turntable plate thingy in the microwave broke clean in two. Normally, we would just buy a new one. On the austerity budget, we repaired it with superglue. So far, so good. We feel good about our resourcefulness.
Our tumble drier broke down - the spindle holding the drum in place sheared clean through. We can't get by without one so, with sighs of resignation, we called a man in to repair it. He discovered that our tumble drier is a recalled model. He waived his call out fee (incredibly generous of him) and arranged for us to have a brand new tumble drier for less than his call out fee would have been.
The friend who supplied the Boost bar, has also supplied other little blessings: a can of coconut milk here, an 8-pack of my preferred soft drink there. Things that I would normally buy without even looking at the price tag, and which have now been cut on the austerity budget.
Another friend gave us tickets to a live comedy act. A night out that we wouldn't even contemplate at the moment.
We find ourselves more determined to find the upside to every situation, to look for a reason to be glad.
Something that happened not to us, but to a friend, is an illustration of how the most unlikely things can turn out to be blessings in disguise. She found a lump in her breast and went to see the doctor, as you do. The doctor was pretty sure it was nothing nefarious, but sent her for a mammogram anyway. The mammogram confirmed his suspicion that the lump was of no concern. However, they found early stage cancer in the other breast. Apparently, it is pretty much undetectable at this stage other than on a scan. This makes for an excellent prognosis. Hooray for the lump.
So now our house is back on the market. There is no furniture in either of our sons' ex bedrooms. One of them is doing duty as a storage space for the stuff I'm looking to sell. Our lovely double length garage used to house gym equipment and a lovely XBox gaming space - it's now full of boxes, some packed and some empty. There are no pictures on the walls. There are half-packed boxes in most of the rooms. My lovely studio in the loft, with the best views in the house, is full of stuff from the attic-space, which is in the process of being sorted. It is nowhere near the lovely home it was when our previous buyers saw it. The sight that meets prospective buyers right now is far less inviting. But we've already had one offer, and it was a smidgen higher than the offer that fell through. And viewers are still coming. Maybe the failed sale and the resultant flirtation with financial ruin will result in a better price than before?
Mr Namasi, my wonderfully pragmatic, phlegmatic husband has made an occupation out of job hunting. This is the first time he has been unemployed for more than a couple of weeks, and the job market is not kind to the over 50s.
He has a daily routine of checking his emails, following up on new job alerts, making phone calls, reaching out to his network. He has been pouring himself into the task with the same sort of dedication and commitment that characterises the way he has approached every aspect of his life: previous jobs, marriage, parenting, sport, volunteering commitments... His resilience inspires me.
As we speak, he is en route to an interview in London. If the potential employers had been a fly on the wall as he prepared for this interview and spoke about how life would be if he got this job (at a lower salary than his previous role), they would have hired him on the spot. I just hope they are able to see his sterling qualities in the short space of time they get to spend with him. And maybe he will land a role that fits him like a glove, holds his interest and allows him to grow and develop.
Maybe this time of unemployment will also prove to be a blessing in disguise? I have to confess that at the moment, if this is a blessing in disguise, the disguise is a pretty impenetrable one, but I'm standing hopefully by for the Great Unmasking.
- Mr Namasi has been unemployed since December when the company he worked for folded, and I don't earn nearly enough to make ends even wave at each other
- When we at last found a buyer for our house, the sale fell through at the very last hurdle - we've already gotten rid of much of our furniture and started packing
- Our presence in a post-Brexit UK is not guaranteed.
I'm sure you get the picture. Things are pretty bleak. And yet, and yet...
We've introduced what we call 'austerity budget' and have cut corners all over the place. We've had to do this before and, as before, somehow it's fun. Planning meals together, choosing cheaper everything, and buoying each other up with the make-do mentality and the fact that we're in it together. Something as mundane as a chocolate bar becomes a real treat, and we appreciate the little things so much more.
I recently came home from work to find that a friend-and-colleague had popped a chocolate bar into my handbag. I gave it to Mr Namasi, because it happened to be a Boost and he needed one.
A friend treated me to a Sunday roast dinner out, which was such a blessing.
After a protracted battle with HMRC, who kept sending me letters to say I owed them money, in spite of the fact that they had already confirmed more than once that this was not the case, I finally spoke to someone who was able to stop the regular letters. This person was also able to tell me, that not only did I not owe them any money, but they owed me £100. Mr Namasi and I had foregone birthday presents due to budget cuts, and I decided that we would split the money and each buy ourselves a £50 gift.
As part of the ongoing downsizing project, I've been advertising some of our belongings online, and a few of them have sold. It's just £10 here and £15 there. But those little windfalls feel significant when they're dropping into an empty cache in a way they wouldn't have done under normal circumstances.
And then, of course, things go wrong - things you just don't have the budget for. The glass turntable plate thingy in the microwave broke clean in two. Normally, we would just buy a new one. On the austerity budget, we repaired it with superglue. So far, so good. We feel good about our resourcefulness.
Our tumble drier broke down - the spindle holding the drum in place sheared clean through. We can't get by without one so, with sighs of resignation, we called a man in to repair it. He discovered that our tumble drier is a recalled model. He waived his call out fee (incredibly generous of him) and arranged for us to have a brand new tumble drier for less than his call out fee would have been.
The friend who supplied the Boost bar, has also supplied other little blessings: a can of coconut milk here, an 8-pack of my preferred soft drink there. Things that I would normally buy without even looking at the price tag, and which have now been cut on the austerity budget.
Another friend gave us tickets to a live comedy act. A night out that we wouldn't even contemplate at the moment.
We find ourselves more determined to find the upside to every situation, to look for a reason to be glad.
Something that happened not to us, but to a friend, is an illustration of how the most unlikely things can turn out to be blessings in disguise. She found a lump in her breast and went to see the doctor, as you do. The doctor was pretty sure it was nothing nefarious, but sent her for a mammogram anyway. The mammogram confirmed his suspicion that the lump was of no concern. However, they found early stage cancer in the other breast. Apparently, it is pretty much undetectable at this stage other than on a scan. This makes for an excellent prognosis. Hooray for the lump.
So now our house is back on the market. There is no furniture in either of our sons' ex bedrooms. One of them is doing duty as a storage space for the stuff I'm looking to sell. Our lovely double length garage used to house gym equipment and a lovely XBox gaming space - it's now full of boxes, some packed and some empty. There are no pictures on the walls. There are half-packed boxes in most of the rooms. My lovely studio in the loft, with the best views in the house, is full of stuff from the attic-space, which is in the process of being sorted. It is nowhere near the lovely home it was when our previous buyers saw it. The sight that meets prospective buyers right now is far less inviting. But we've already had one offer, and it was a smidgen higher than the offer that fell through. And viewers are still coming. Maybe the failed sale and the resultant flirtation with financial ruin will result in a better price than before?
Mr Namasi, my wonderfully pragmatic, phlegmatic husband has made an occupation out of job hunting. This is the first time he has been unemployed for more than a couple of weeks, and the job market is not kind to the over 50s.
He has a daily routine of checking his emails, following up on new job alerts, making phone calls, reaching out to his network. He has been pouring himself into the task with the same sort of dedication and commitment that characterises the way he has approached every aspect of his life: previous jobs, marriage, parenting, sport, volunteering commitments... His resilience inspires me.
As we speak, he is en route to an interview in London. If the potential employers had been a fly on the wall as he prepared for this interview and spoke about how life would be if he got this job (at a lower salary than his previous role), they would have hired him on the spot. I just hope they are able to see his sterling qualities in the short space of time they get to spend with him. And maybe he will land a role that fits him like a glove, holds his interest and allows him to grow and develop.
Maybe this time of unemployment will also prove to be a blessing in disguise? I have to confess that at the moment, if this is a blessing in disguise, the disguise is a pretty impenetrable one, but I'm standing hopefully by for the Great Unmasking.
Sending you a virtual hug. And like the lump my inner Spidey-sense says that better times await. And in between, and in German, they'd say: halt deine Ohren steif xx
ReplyDeleteThanks, Paul. Much appreciated. I am blessed that I am loved.
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