2~Final Journey Home and French Reflections

So as I journeyed home for the final time pre round the world trip, I continued to enjoy the amazingness of the sky as I reflected on my time in France and Bristol, the start of the New Year. The sky put on a show: cloud displays of pinks, greys and lavenders and then from my corner of eye I spotted the moon: large, low and to the side, framed by the carriage window. Opposite the winter sun, in happy solitude, away from the clouds now, begins to slowly bow out. I carried on with my meanderings under the stare of the moon and pass the Humber Bridge. Home. That familiar and reassuring sight after a journey. Distant dark grey clouds sit peacefully on the horizon and strips of hot pink clouds are perfectly scattered about and wispy mauve clouds rest low near the Humber. Although my bag was heavy and the walk is fair, I decided to walk  home and enjoy the light of the luminous moon, knowing this would be the last arrival for a long time to Hull station.

Although my plans were not strategically constructed to provide distraction from not returning to my normal January routine, they very much perfectly served this purpose. A quiet southern French village on New Year’s Day and the following ones with my dad and family in France and then on to Bristol to spend a week with Steph and Adam.

Admittedly, I felt some apprehension about a French escape with my dad. Adam had told me: ‘Don’t do it, Jess! It was the WORST holiday ever! ’Adam described a ground hog day experience and too much 1:1 time with his pops- so much so, he would take to the toilet for restbite, only to hear a knock minutes later with a, “Son, son. You all right in there?” No escape. Walls in the little French house paper thin, every day the same. Starting with a run on the canal, dad snoozing on the beach and the same egg mayonnaise sandy sandwiches which were reminiscent of the ones dad used to pack us up with on the long, uncomfortable bus journey from Bristol to Hull when we visited as children. Adam was always sick. All over the seats. Nasty combo. Sickness and dad’s sandwiches in abundance. The sandwiches dressed up with French baguette, pain l áncienne, could not even take the edge off those memories.

 

 

First morning in my little room, with a sweet view of the blue shutters and rooftops, as I cleared my throat and prepared to rise, dad’s voice filled the room, ‘Darling, would you like daddy to make you a cup of tea?” My little cough had alerted him next door and indeed, just as Adam had described, there was no escape. This closeness, however, suited me fine. 1:1 time with my dad? Bring it on! I always craved a bit of that as a kid and now I had it. And what lovely experiences: choosing fish and asparagus at the intermarche; roasting cauliflower and chickpeas with a mustard dressing which my dad enjoyed (he is INCREDIBLY critical about food!), collecting shells on the beach; lunch at Grandad’s and Nana Katie’s; driving over the Pyrenees while the sun was setting; sitting, chatting with dad and Sonya; watching my dad freeze up in the Boulanger as soon as he had to execute his pigeon French; walking the dog through the quiet streets of Narbonne and sharing a coffee in the warmth of the winter sun; runs by the canal; talking to my dad and learning about family past, present and future.

Connecting and sharing with my dad in his little French home was great and Bristol, next stop, for a week with Steph and Adam was a continuation of this special family time. I realized, on the morning of Tuesday the 7th of January 2014, as Steph and I stood overlooking the hills and landscape of the beautiful city of Bristol, that my class, the children I loved so much, were starting their Spring term with their new teacher. I have never seen this month of January from anywhere but a classroom window. Have never really wanted to either. I never begrudgingly returned to work after a half term. I was always happy to go on a Monday morning and I can genuinely hold my hand on my heart and say that. I love teaching and I love being with my class. So, now, shedding my Miss Wolff identity is emotional and strange. It is a huge part of life and who I am. Time with my family, in France and the lovely city of Bristol has been the perfect antidote for a little sadness to say good bye to teaching for a while. Our morning walk in the dewy Failand woods with the family dogs and a chat with my sister helped to remind me of the exciting times ahead and quell the sadness about not being with my lovely class.

Lovely Bristol memories: a gorgeous, intimate family wedding, dog walks

and runs with Rufus, early morning yoga with my sis, reading ‘Wonderstruck’ to my brother in the Boston Tea Party(scratched the itch of sharing stories to my class and luckily Adam was not too bothered if anyone thought he was a little special), a cooking day with my dad and even a spot of waitressing at 51’s. Next stop: Hull. Rediscover my home town for a month. Prepare for a Yogathon, enjoy the day classes at the gym. Look after my roomie and spend time with friends. Do the school run with Beautiful Jess and make her porridge. Lunch with all the deliciously wonderful friends from school and around. Spend quality time with Mama Wolff and Richard. Enjoy a surprise party, a farewell tea party. Yoga with the amazing Alison. Enjoy the Yoga therapy Lounge and the Rise and shiners there. Yoga with Chloe, Ella and Helen Bowman. Juices and TV time with my roomie. Sunday club with my great girlfriends, Moy and Fee. Biking about and enjoying Hull. Bliss.

 

 

Katie Parrott and I catch up pre 108 sun salutations- my dear friend joined me for my last weekend in Hull. This exertion was followed up with a lot of sugar in an afternoon of beautiful baked goods brought by all my amazing friends for my farewell tea party.