Sleepless nights, Coffee mornings, and "the usual suspects"

I have found a moment of quiet in the midst of a very busy day. Almost magically, it is 22 degrees Celsius, and I am sitting outside, in a sun hat, worried about sunburn…

Can this possibly be England in April? I wish I could capture this day and share it with you!

I have found an absolute haven of tranquility in the garden of The Glebe Hotel.  Sipping coffee, undisturbed, I try and process all that has transpired in yet another hectic week. I often think to myself, and the DEB often asks me aloud, whether I really need another challenge to take on, and clearly, it seems I do. Routinely.

My charity Coffee Morning went off really well. We raised £150.00! This was largely due to support from “the usual suspects” – loyal friends and kind neighbours who dug deep, and gave of their time and treasure to support our cause.

The night before was a sleepless one for me, as I tossed and turned and panicked: “All this effort, and what if no one comes?” I finally gave up on sleep at half five, and wandered around the house trying think of what I may have forgotten. Then, at half six it dawned on me: coffee, tea, sugar, milk and support staff.

Just a few minor things!

A frantic text to my friend, Hannah: “Help!” The reply came: “When do you need me?” My plea: “As soon as you can be here!” Friends like that are gold dust! When Hannah arrived, I threw my arms around her, and thanked my lucky stars! She dutifully set off to the village shop for supplies, while I blew up balloons and schlepped cakes and raffle prizes to the church.

Pam, Alex and Hannah’s mum arrived to lend a hand, as did my Darling Neighbour, Mary Sue. (Yes, a rather unique name for a Briton.) MS brought along a gorgeous, chocolate cake, and singlehandedly commandeered the coffee urns. Hannah’s sweet mother, Ann, donned the giant Marie Curie daffodil hat and walked up and down the road wooing punters to our party. Remarkable.

Of course, to start off, we had more helpers than punters, and I feared that this way the entire event would go. I had baulked at tradition and scheduled my Coffee Morning at the ungodly hour of 9:30 AM, in an attempt to woo the “school-run mums” who seem to gaggle and loiter outside the church each and every day around 9 AM. Monday was not one of those days.

The road was positively empty, quiet and devoid of mums. My plan had backfired. In my effort to attract what I thought would be a captive audience, I had seemingly offended purists who believe a Coffee Morning should start later. Sometimes, you just can’t win!

In my more cynical, paranoid and self-obsessed moments, I am convinced that the school-run mums – viewing me as some sort of childless, social pariah – conspired against me, and all purposely stayed away, and gathered elsewhere on the day. But that would be very cynical, indeed. And, to be sure, three mums from the school actually did turn up to the Coffee Morning, and seemed to have had a nice time, and each won a prize, I think.

All in all, it was a great experience, and one that has taught me (yet again) that no matter how “small” an event is, it is still an event, and requires lots and lots of effort. Pictures from the day, forthcoming.

After the Coffee Morning, I went home and collapsed. Despite the virtual ton of caffeine and sugar I had consumed, I was spent. But, my respite was short-lived – on to the next task. More fundraising, and of course The Big Swim.

The DEB and our new Teammate, Hazel, began our 15K challenge on Monday, with the goal of doing 1K per day. Our first kilometre completed, the DEB and I dashed home from the pool to host the first “Royal Wedding Street Party Committee” meeting. With wet hair and aching arms, I thought to myself “What on earth am I doing?” But, everyone’s really excited about the street party, and offering to help, I just needed to get the ball rolling.

No rest for the wicked: yesterday was spent facing down a massive, lingering deadline I had for a restaurant/pub review for the magazine. This is my first piece for our new editor, and I did not want to disappoint.

I made the foolhardy mistake of “tweeting” (Note to self: need to reflect upon Twitter.) that I would have the piece in by 5 PM. Great. Now, the entire world could witness my tendency to procrastinate. I must say, the fact that I had broadcast my own potential downfall, did propel me to get it done. Maybe Twitter is just what I’ve always needed…

And so, today. Finally a breather, of sorts, and at least a few moments of reflection. That, along with the workmen who have been in and out of the house today. We are having a new kitchen floor installed, and a new window in the living room.

Did I need another challenge this week?

Ironically, as the first workman arrived at 7:45 AM, I went to the door and found that someone had slipped a note through sometime in the night. I opened the card to find a donation to our Marie Curie funds and a short, simple note: “Thank you.”

As I stood there, my eyes filled with tears. All the aches and effort are truly worth it. And, in that moment I remembered what this is all about, and what it’s all for. So that somebody, somewhere may have the peace, comfort and care that a Marie Curie Nurse can provide them in their final days here on earth, in the comfort of their own homes. That is truly an incredible gift, and my efforts are just a wee, small part of making this wonderful gift happen.

That gentle reminder helped me to put aside thoughts of who came to the Coffee Morning, and who didn’t; who’s supported us, and who hasn’t, etc. It’s about love and the greater good. And surely, this world is in desperate need of that right now.

With these thoughts in mind and heart, I glided through my 1k today.  (Number 4 of 5!) Hazel arrived at the pool just as I’d hit my half way mark, and we chatted and swam the rest together. Hazel’s in my Aquafit class, and we had never really spoken much before, but once she heard about our swim she felt compelled to get involved. I think she may become a good friend.

As we’ve now all reached the 4K mark, we’ve decide to space out the rest of the swim for the remainder of the Swimathon. We’re talking about getting together and doing the last lengths together, and maybe taking a Team photo. I think we should break open a bottle of bubbly when we’re done as well!

Oh, dear, sounds like I’m on my way to planning yet another “little event”.

Mere trifles, and a bit of faking

The Marie Curie Cancer Care Swimathon is a mere 8 days and 11 hours away!!
My training is going well, and I have clocked up 2.8k in training so far as a lead up to our big 10k swim, which starts next week. 
I've suffered from awful neck strain, my legs ache, my arms feel like lead, and my hair has turned green, but as much as it hurts, it feels really great to be "doing good".
In addition to swimming as much as I can, I am also doing an Aquafit class for aerobic training to build up my stamina. 
My trainer, Trisha Quinn is quite amazing. As she watches us jumping and gurgling in the pool, she often chirps: "That's it ladies, keep it going! And, if you get weary, just dance!" Hmm, I think there's a rule for life in there somewhere...
We've had a really great response to our Swimathon efforts. Hazel, a lady from from my Aquafit class, has asked to join our team. So now, our overall team Swimming goal has jumped to 15K! 
Our fundraising is going really well, too. Our initial fundraising goal was very modest: £300. I just didn't think I had it in me to fund-raise. But, the support has been really incredible. And, I've caught the fundraising bug! It is amazing how fearless you can become when you really believe in something.
We have solicited support, with a zeal that has surprised even me. (My mother will be so proud that I'm following firmly in her charitable footsteps.) As a result, I have upped our Team goal to £1000! (...Maybe I'm being too ambitious?...)
Feeling generous? 
We'd love your support! 
Here's a link to a the secure donation site: Marie Curie Cancer Care Swimathon
Look us up under "Simply Swim", type in "Alycia".
Not that I needed another challenge, but I decided to have a fundraising Coffee Morning at Barford Church, next Monday. I have NO IDEA how to organise a Coffee Morning, that oh, so British ladies' institution. 
Thankfully, my very generous neighbours have offered help by baking cakes and goodies. Marie Curie head office are sending balloons and decorations, so it should look very nice.
Several local vendors have also been very generous in offering me an array of VERY NICE raffle prizes: including a gorgeous rug from The Polished Floor and Carpet Co. in Leamington Spa, and two extra special massage/pamper packages. So, hopefully, with the £5 donation, and the raffle we will inch closer to our £1000 goal.
All of this is taking much more time and effort than I had expected. (Live and learn!) I am really glad that I have done it, but, my goodness! 
This week, I am working on submitting and application to the RSC for their "Open Stages" project, on behalf of the Barford Drama Group. And, of course, there's the Royal Wedding Street Party to organise and arrange!
With all of this swimming, fundraising, prepping and planning, I lost track of a major obligation I had for this past Saturday. Last Saturday night was the annual WI Quiz. The WI Quiz is one of the hottest tickets of the year in Barford. 
Like a madwoman, I volunteered to make a pudding/dessert for the Quiz Supper. I was so proud of myself for raising my hand to volunteer during the meeting. "I'll make a lovely Chocolate Cake," I thought to myself. 
Just as I was settling into my dreams of chocolate decadence, I was brought swiftly out of my revelry by the following words: "You should all make the same pudding, to keep things consistent. Ladies, please make a Trifle."
My heart sank. 
I have never made a Trifle. I love them, of course, and find them simply divine, but they are  far, far out of my culinary welkin!
And thus, I panicked. And did what any sensible American Girl would do -- I fake it. I bought all the ingredients and asked (begged) someone else to make it for me!
God bless our dear, dear blessed Sally. What a saint she is! On the promise that I will one day allow her to show me how "easy" it is to make a Trifle, Sally, graciously made my WI Trifle for me! Bless her!
I'm not really a coward, I have just been so, so overwhelmed, I just could not do or take on more.  
I will certainly deserve a little break after all this is said and done!
One lovely, well-deserved treat recently: I luxuriated in the indulgence of a gourmet evening at Stratford College with my DEB last Friday. It was, as usual, a fabulous evening of gorgeous food and wine. The next day is always spent in the grips of a marvelous "food hangover".
And certainly felt it in training the next week! Alas, no long-term rest for the wicked! 

Revenge of the Nerds

I limped home from the pool last night, exhausted and exhilarated. First week of training nearly done. The start of the Marie Curie Swimathon is precisely 27 days and 15 hours from today. And, hopefully I’ll be ready.

I’m really looking forward to my massive 10K swim alongside my beloved DEB (who doesn’t need to train).  It’s so nice to be completing this challenge together as a couple. We’ve already started making plans for our next “big swim”. Marie Curie has another challenge in June. Swimming across the Padstow Estuary, down in Cornwall.

 I am utterly petrified at the thought, but it’s one of those things, isn’t it? If I don’t do it, I will only kick myself later, wishing that I had. Life’s a bit like that, wouldn’t you agree? The DEB would love to swim the English Channel, one day – he’ll definitely have to do that one on his own.

I have really fallen in love with swimming. And these challenges, and doing something good for charity are such great incentives. Not bad for a girl once voted “Least Sporty” in school.

Ah, yes, back in those days there was no ‘equal glory, passed round in equal measure’. No, sir! No thought of ‘everyone gets a certificate on Sports Day’. We were not “all winners”. In those days, the ethos was, rightly or wrongly, if you were rubbish at something, you needed to know, accept it and move on to something else.

As no surprise, I was an “arty-farty” sort of girl in school. I excelled at languages and the arts (music, ballet, theatre, etc). I was First Chair Violin in the Orchestra, won book reading contests (a very odd concept, and one I must explore at length at some point) and blue ribbons for French recitation. I acted, and wrote for the school paper. And, I sucked at sports.

I was always, always the last girl to be picked for a side. No matter the game. Once, a girl on crutches, with a broken leg in a cast, was picked before me. For a relay race. And, I don’t even want to recall the agony that was the act of playing “Red Rover.”

While we are on the subject – not that I’m bitter – but, why, oh, why, if you’ve decided that someone’s the weakest link, why would you place them as the last leg of the team? Surely, it would make more sense to have the second, or even first strongest runner in that post? For goodness sake, put the crap person in the middle, where they could do the least amount of damage. I have never, ever understood the rationale of putting a Sad McSaddens at the end of the lineup.

One day, I put down my copy of Nancy Drew, and went along to see the P.E. teacher. “I want to be more sporty,” I declared. He suggested running. And, why did I listen? Like a fool, I joined the Cross-Country Team.  On the day of the team practice, I turned up to the track, and you know the hurdles, those things they jump over? I stood next to one, and it was as high as my shoulder. Not a good sign.

That afternoon, in blinding sunlight, I huffed and puffed around the track, amidst a pack of long-legged gazelles. Quite clearly, this was doing wonders for my self-esteem. (Not!) At the end of the session, the Coach announced a cross-country meet happening that weekend. “Just come along and join us, give it a shot.” He said patting me on the back.

The fateful day came, and there I was, standing at the back of the pack. The whistle blew and off the runners went, like bats being released from hell. And then, there was me. Little me, who’d only “joined the team” that week. I had no idea what I was doing, or where I was going. I just followed, watching the pack stretching farther and farther ahead and away from me.

I didn’t give up, I didn’t turn round and head back. Although, I absolutely wanted to! I struggled on, best I could. By the time I made it back, everyone had gone home. Only my “coach” and my mother were there, sitting in their cars waiting for me. Awful. Absolutely awful. I’ll never forget the look of disappointment on the coach’s face. My mother was just happy I was alive.

“I think I’ll stick to reading books.” I said to my mother as I collapsed on the back seat of the car. My mother was keen sportswoman in her day. Quite surprisingly, given that she is not much taller than me, she played basketball when she was in school, and was apparently quite an ace “guard”, on a championship winning team in the 1940s. “Darling,” she drawled as she drove us home, “You just have to find what you’re good at, and stick with it.”

It was a walk for charity that got me back in my feet. I did a 20 mile walk for MS (Muscular Dystrophy), and felt incredible. I started walking seriously, but it wasn’t until much later in my adult life that I finally made peace with running.

I used to run around Washington Square Park everyday when I lived in New York. One summer, my best chum, Sarah, and I decided to set a simple goal, “Let’s build up to a 4mile run along the Hudson River, just to see if we can.” And, we did. That 4 miles then became 10K, and now Sarah’s running marathons regularly! And, I am so proud of her. For me, I fell in love with the feeling I got from running. I’ll never be keen on doing it competitively … for obvious reasons!

Feeling that I had conquered my running-phobia, I decided in 2005/2006 to conquer Swimming. I’ve always loved the water, and playing around in it, but never took the time or effort to learn how to swim properly. So, I enrolled in an adult swimming class at NYU Gym, and the rest, as they say, is history! There’s no stopping me now!

Not bad, for “The Least Sporty Girl” in school.

Purpose, at last

Over the past few weeks, I have felt myself slipping into an ever-increasing, self-pitying state. The “poor me” syndrome is a chronic and highly contagious illness. It strikes sufferers in varying degrees, from the legitimately lamentable to the absurd. 

Missives from two friends this week helped me to shake my blues. Both were written from a place of despair. One, was from a friend who is an incredibly talented artist, an American, who, like me, feels set a drift in sea of uncertainty in this green and pleasant land.

Also like me, she can recall with great ease a tremendously fulfilling and urbane professional life, recently left behind; wherein she felt valued, respected and rewarded for her achievements. Now, living in Britain, her “education, experience, street cred and accomplishments” seem to count for very little. Her applications to local charities and libraries, for jobs she could do in her sleep, go unheeded and unanswered. A sorry state of affairs, and I know how she feels.

I was humbled by the words of her message: “I know you want more from your life here,” she said. “But right now I'd be happy with a bit of what you have.” I was struck to the core but my own general lack of gratitude. It’s so much easier to look at what we don’t have.

The other missive can from the opposite direction. A plea for advice - from a friend best described as, “a woman who has it all”. No, she really does. She doesn’t realize it, of course. I love her to bits, but there are times when we clearly see the world in very different ways.

She was seeking my advice because a man, a work colleague in her office, has been consistently “ignoring” her. He’s not rude or mean. Just, indifferent. No matter how nicely dressed she is, are how she smiles, jokes, flirts, etc. he “pays [her] no attention at all”.

And, it bothers her. The other men in the office find her very attractive and amusing. As she describes it, they seem to hover around her in a “Mad Men” kind of way. And, her husband adores her, too, but, it is this one minion, who refuses to become an acolyte, who drives her to tears and despair. “Why doesn’t he like me?” she sobbed virtually, on email.

I sat perplexed, staring at my computer screen, feeling that I had suddenly slipped by time warp back to High School. I sat, watching my cursor blink incessantly, words utterly escaping me.

“Where have we gone?” I thought to myself aloud. “How has everything become ‘a problem’, even when it isn’t one?” As I lost myself in existential thought, I was rescued by a ping in my inbox…

“Hit the pool and make a difference! Join the 2011 Swimathon and support the work of Marie Curie Cancer Care” - the headline announced.

The thought of doing something good for charity struck a very deep and immediate chord for me in that moment. And, it suddenly lifted me out of the silly, hapless wasteland in which I was now rambling. 

“I’m going to do this!” I thought, and before I knew it, I was ready to register! First, a short message to my darling DEB: “Wanna join my team?” Short, sweet reply back: “Yes!” So, the DEB and I are taking on the swim of our lives as part of the world’s biggest fundraising swim! The money we raise will allow Marie Curie Nurses to provide free care at home to people with terminal cancer and other illnesses.

We have decided to do a 10K swim, and will be doing it in my beloved hobbit-sized pool at the gym. It will take us ages in that tiny pool, but we think the Marie Curie Nurses are worth it! We are swimming in memory of two of our beloved parents, lost to cancer.

Our Swimathon mission has really propelled me this week. It is so, so, so, wonderful to have a goal. A clear, precise objective that can be reached. An attainable, sizeable goal. 

And, a goal that is bigger than “me” and my needs.

http://www.swimathon.org/index.php