A time for fresh starts (From The Northern Echo)

A time for fresh starts

12:04pm Friday 2nd September 2011 in Sharon's View By Sharon Griffiths

WELL that’s it. That’s the summer over. The plants are getting leggy.

The chill in the morning air is already making it feel backendish.

A new term starts next week and it’s time to get your children ready, whatever stage they’re at. If you haven’t bought the first school shoes/sewn on the nametapes/ bought the kettle, duvet and mugs for your new student, then you’d better get a move on.

But even though it’s time to sling the T-shirts in the duster drawer and throw out the flip-flops, let’s not be downhearted, because this is a wonderful time of year.

All those dazzling white shirts, perfect pleats, unscuffed shoes – such a time of promise and possibilities.

Enough to make us all feel optimistic.

And if you have children starting at nursery/school/university, then it’s a new start for you too.

The day Smaller Son started school – with barely a backward glance – I walked home with both hands in my pockets, simply because I could. Without a four-year-old to hold on to and watch out for, I had that sudden first tantalising taste of freedom.

And when both boys had left for university, I wandered round my empty nest feeling sad for – oh, at least two hours. And for weeks I would gaze disbelievingly at the strange unnatural neatness of their empty rooms.

Let’s make the most of it. This is your opportunity. No more excuses.

Whatever stage your children are at, they’re going to need you less. It’s time to find out what you want to do and get on and do it. Otherwise they’ll be getting their degrees and you’ll still be dusting their Topsy and Tim books. So make a start at least.

And what better time than now?

With luck, we’ve been energised by summer sun – well, there was some, wasn’t there? – and up for a challenge or two. Let’s face it, there’s far more chance of making a fresh start now than there ever is in the grim, grey liverish days of early January.

New pens and pencils, neat timetables and smooth, clean exercise books without a single mistake or mucky mark. A fresh start, full of all sorts of exciting possibilities.

Couldn’t we all do with that?

This could just be your chance.

Make the most of it.

Robbed

UNTIL the refurbishment is completed, King’s Cross station is dreadful, an appalling beginning and end to a trip to London. Almost nowhere to sit and not even space to stand without being bashed by people and cases or dive-bombed by pigeons. No wonder, then, that a recent report shows it has the highest crime figures of any of London’s stations.

But maybe it’s worse next door....

The splendid St Pancras hotel, bordering on to the Eurostar platforms, is indeed marvellous to look at, wonderfully restored and a great use of space. They’ve done a fantastic job. The Booking Office bar is big and busy.

But a pint of bitter costs £6.50, which with the automatic service charge comes to a mind-boggling £7.31.

Now that really is criminal.

Which planet are they on?

COULD someone please bring fashion writers into the real world? There has been a spate of features saying how wonderfully thrifty the Duchess of Cambridge, above, is because she “recycles” her outfits.

Has she made them into curtains? Chopped them up for dusters, made them into dolls’ clothes, a patchwork quilt or a bag for her Waitrose shopping? No. She’s been photographed in the same dress or coat more than once. Well gosh.

That’s not recycling. That’s wearing. It’s what you do with clothes, even in the royal family. But not, apparently, on Planet Fashion.

Elsie's an example to us all

IF you’re wondering what to do with that extra time since your children started nursery / school / university, then look at Elsie Richardson for inspiration.

Elsie, from Newcastle, missed out on education first time around, so started studying for a degree when she was 71.

Now in her 80s, she’s gained her BA, MA, qualified as a psychotherapist at 75 and is now just tidying up her PhD.

And yes, by the time she’s got her doctorate she’ll be 86. But she’d be 86 anyway and how much better to be a lively, intelligent, interested 86, rather than one with a mindset stuck somewhere around 1975.

A great example to us all.

Mind you, it makes my vague plans to do a science GCSE seem pretty feeble...

What next?

ALREADY busy telling us to mind the gap, mind the doors, watch our possessions and report any suspicious packages, London Underground now has recorded messages advising people “in this hot weather” always to carry a bottle of water.

What next? A wet day warning about umbrellas? A December message reminding us to wear a vest?

The underground’s getting worse than your granny.

It is, of course, just one of the many ridiculous warnings that bombard us every day.

Keep in low gear. Do not lean out.

Beware of incoming tide. Rocks slippery when wet. Wearing of this costume does not enable you to fly. To switch on, put switch in “on” position...

It might be sensible. It might just be organisations protecting themselves from the compensation culture, but it’s slowly and surely eroding our ability to think for ourselves.

Worst of all, we stop noticing them. How many of you dash for the exit as soon as you hear a fire alarm?

Thought so. You just stand there for a moment, say “Oh it’s only a false alarm.” And carry on shopping.

When we stayed in a hotel in Wales last year the fire alarm went off three times. Finally, thinking they meant it, we dragged some clothes on and hurried down to the reception area to be greeted by a very cross night porter.

“If it was a real fire I’d have come and got you,” he said, sending us all back to our rooms like so many naughty children.

One day, of course, it will be a real fire and we won’t bother to move until the flames are licking at the door...

Still, some warnings are wonderful.

I always treasure the one on some medicine I had years ago when my sons were small.

“Keep cool. Keep away from children.

Avoid alcohol.”

If I could have managed the first two, the third would have been so much easier.

Mind how you go.

Fingers crossed for Amanda

INEVER realised how superstitious I was until I read Amanda Holden telling the world that she’s three months pregnant with a baby girl.

It’s just six months since the stillbirth of her son at seven months and, ooh, she looked so pleased and happy as she clutched the scan, that I wanted to tell her to wait, please wait... and not tell anyone until it was so obvious that she had to.

Strange, isn’t it, that you think you’re a rational being – until it comes to babies, when every primeval worry and wish kicks in big time.

Middle-age

DAVID Beckham has a bald patch. Victoria has a bad back and has had to abandon her perpetual tottering heels for flatties.

However rich and glamorous, middle-age comes to us all.