Dear Queenagers
First a big hello to all our new members! I know because of all the publicity about my book last week we’ve got lots of new Queenagers today, so welcome!! So excited to have you here with us and that our mission here at noon.org.ukchimes with your interests! Do become a member because then you get early access to all our very popular events…
Well what a week of contrasts! It kicked off with my book being serialised over two days in the Daily Mail and on the masthead no less… it is very strange doing something so high profile. You know that millions of people are seeing it and thinking about it but at the centre of it all it is all eerily quiet and normal – except there’s your head on the front of a national newspaper next to Jo Biden quitting and Karmala Harris. I heard from lots of people who haven’t been in touch for a while.. and had loads of messages from other Queenagers who had been made redundant in reaction to the piece about the Queenager brain drain… more of that soon. Hopefully the serialisation will have encouraged some people to buy the book. But again, I won’t know for a week or two. (Oh and as a special present to all of you wonderful Queenager subscribers here is a link where you can read the first two chapters of the book Much More To Come which is published on Thursday. My advice is to start with the chapter called The Midlife Maelstrom… If you like it and want to read more you can buy it for half price if you go to waterstones.com and use the code Muchmore50)
Meanwhile back in real life my daughter graduated from Oxford University yesterday. It was such a wonderful day – she looked so beautiful and happy in her black gown and white furry cape. It was all a bit like going to a wedding; I had a new silk frock, my husband wore his best suit. Alice was in white (and black). We were all photographed. We sat in Christopher Wren’s Sheldonian Theatre (on bum-numbing seats) for two hours and listened to latin incantations and lots of bowing and doffing of mortar boards. The Oxford graduation ceremony hasn’t changed for 800 years – it is all about the bigwig scholars, the Chancellor of the University and the Deans of the colleges bowing to the new graduates, in acknowledgement of how hard they have worked and how difficult it is to get an Oxford degree. The bowing meaning the senior academics recognise the graduates scholarship and prowess; that the students have reached the required standard. A tear came to my eye when the Chancellor talked about how extraordinary these young people are and how much the world needs their intelligence and skills – I saw them like arrows of hope and light being shot out into the future.
I felt so proud – not least because she has always been a very clever girl and she fulfilled all that promise by getting a First in English Literature (better than I managed!). I couldn’t be more delighted for her that she is setting out on adult life with such a great feather in her cap. And she has worked so hard and conquered so much. I shed a few tears thinking that my little girl is now so accomplished and grown up. We went out and had a delicious dinner by the river and drank lots of champagne: Pol Roger, Churchill’s favourite (and mine): Winston said of it: ‘In Victory you deserve it, In defeat you need it’. It’s good stuff (my head is a bit cloudy as I write this).I’m a firm believer that it is very important to know (and celebrate) when you are having a good time, because you certainly know it when you are having a bad time! My amazing mum came for supper with us too – she also studied at Oxford (law in the sixties), as did my paternal grandmother (chemistry in the 1930s). So with Alice that makes us four generations of Oxford women which is quite a thing…I sat on a bench with my husband in the University parks and watched the wind blow in the poplar trees, by the river Cherwell and thought about all those who had been here before. Their ghosts, their part in my destiny… Do you have a place where many strands of your family come together? I’d love to hear about what and where… tell me in the comments.
But as ever in life there is always light in the darkness, darkness in the light. We went from our celebratory supper to see some friends outside Oxford and our hostess got a call from her elderly mother who needed an ambulance and had to dash off and stay with her and tend to her. It’s been the theme of the weekend. This morning I went to see my darling mother-in-law who is in her late 80s and not in a good way. When we arrived she was confused. We sorted her out and cooked her lunch – I fried her fresh courgettes which she loved, she is a great cook but can’t do it much anymore. We cheered her up; she told me about her early boyfriends and we discussed what she would like to happen when she dies -she doesn’t want a funeral in a church with a vicar who didn’t know her. She wants to be cremated and her ashes scattered in her beloved Devon and buried near her dogs on her cousin’s family farm. We talked about what songs (Fields of Gold, You are my sunshine) – and what cake (Victoria sponge with lemon icing and raspberry jam). It sounds maudlin but it wasn’t. It was necessary and almost fun to help her plan what she wanted. I hope she lives a good deal longer but I’m also glad we now know what she would like if she doesn’t. I hugged her goodbye and felt so sad: particularly because she lives three hours away from us. It feels so wrong that she should be being cared for so much by strangers, not us. I loved frying her courgettes and helping her to wash etc. I just wish she was nearby so I could pop in and help her daily. It broke our hearts to leave. It’s one of the great tragedies of modern life that families are so scattered. I was having this conversation with another friend last week; her mother, also ailing, lives in America. She’d just been out to see her and then come home. She was tearful. Saying it was so hard. It’s so difficult to know what to do, partly because we never know how long we have got. I wish my mother in law lived closer – but her life is where she is. Uprooting her would be disastrous. We’ll just have to go and see her more often – but it’s over three hours each way and life is busy… But I know how many of you are grappling with this kind of situation too. It is all around us. As much a part of midlife as interdental brushes.
I suppose I’m writing about this because it is all too easy to only share the shiny bits, the pinch-me moments – like my book coming out or my daughter’s triumph. When of course life is way more complicated and nuanced than that. I’m writing this from my aunt’s house in the Cotswolds. She is in her late 80s and still driving and walking dogs and mucking out horses (she’s off in her stable doing that now). It just feels very urgent and precious to me to spend time with the older generation while they are still here. To talk to them about the past and bring it to life. But it’s for me too. It puts me back into my childhood self. It’s like being in a time wharp being in this house. I would stay here as a kid. I loved it because my aunt always had Roses’s Lime Marmalade and huge boxes of crisps – her country life style (going to the Cash and Carry, running the Pony Club, she’s hooked on the Equestrianism at the Olympics). It’s the last time-capsule from my childhood.
Maybe that is the essence of midlife or Queenagerhood: we are that middle generation – we’re launching our kids (if we have them, I know a third of you don’t); we’re tending our elderly parents; we’re trying to do the things we know we need to do to fulfil ourselves before it is too late. We’re shifting into our own purpose, grabbing our lives by the horns while we can. I feel so excited about my book coming out next week. I’ve always wanted to write a book and now I have. It is a massive moment. But of course life isn’t just about that. There is always so much going on for all of us Queenagers…
I am so looking forward to our Warwickshire Walk and Swim – see many of you there this afternoon. Do check out NOON for all our upcoming events. And much love with your week, whatever it holds!
Love
Eleanor
By Eleanor Mills
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