When I was young my biggest treat was when my parents went out for the evening and left me by myself to babysit for my brother … and now I am 54, and come back to my childhood home to stay, it is as if I recreate this magical experience by staying up ridiculously late  – just so that I can sit downstairs by myself …

I have just set 10 – yes 10- mousetraps – the infestation has got to the point where my mother is afraid that it will spill out into her playreading group one afternoon – so drastic action is needed! But my father thinks we are all over reacting – so I have to wait ’til he has gone to bed …

I doubt if I’ll sleep, after my recent splendid diet of fresh green juices, sprouts, fermented probiotic foods and other delights … I have – in the last few hours – consumed cake, Chinese food, and a bonkers amount of chocolate – well I did say I was reliving my childhood excitement of being left alone unsupervised – chocolate and having the best time were pretty much synonymous when I was growing up 🙂

And I stumble over a line of poetry as I stubbornly stay up past my bedtime … from my mother’s book “Poems that make grown men cry” …

“Hunger was not just hunger,

but the measure of humanity.”

I always overeat when I am here … today I have seen my father after an absence of three weeks – he hasn’t a clue who I am;

I have talked about my brother – about mother’s losing sons, about mother’s losing children – my mother appears to be finding comfort in gathering together people she knows first hand, third hand,  people in the public eye – who have also had children who died…

I have washed her feet and cut her toenails … I have observed bits of her body, her flesh – and made comparisons in my head – with my grandmother’s body as I remember it at 94 – and my own …

And then my mother chooses “Brassed Off” as the film for us all to watch before bed – and so from my own emotionally charged personal story – of me, my brother and my parents … suddenly I am catapulted into striking miners and a community being ground into submission by the Tory government – all accompanied by  rousing brass band music … as the dying miner bandleader takes his band to victory – winning a competion in the Albert Hall and then refusing the trophy in protest against 142 pit closures …

And then I am left alone … downstairs … contemplating bed … and ending up eating chocolate … perhaps if my life had a rousing brass band sound track … or a satisfying story ark … then maybe I wouldn’t stuff myself with sugar … and maybe this impulse is the measure of my humanity … unable to make things better, be heroic, make a speech in the Albert Hall and take a moral stand … for me there is no moral stand to take … there is just each day to be lived … and today I lived here … I did some gardening, washing, put out the bins … and I was companionable and ate … I didn’t change anything … but I was here … having the best time 🙂