Things Lady M Does

The following anecdote is relayed with all the love in my heart, and has been giggled over at length – so I’m sharing here and hope it amused or sparks recognition:

So, I may have mentioned before some of the trials of attempting to read in bed while Lady M settles to sleep. The mutters and frowns in her sleep are a cause of many an eye-roll, but I have to admit I came close to annoyance this week.

On Wednesday, Lady M went up to London for a team meeting with drinks after, which gave me a quiet evening with Netflix and junk food. Once she was home, moderately tipsy, we went to bed and I read for a while.

The snoring began shortly after, gentle at first and then getting louder – mad more raucous by the gin consumed earlier. Soon it was so loud that Lady M startled herself semi-awake, and then peered in angry confusion at me before collapsing straight back to sleep with an indistinct mutter.

With a grin, I put my book down, switch off the light and snuggled down, though settling took a while as Lady M soon started snoring again. Eventually I was able to drift off…

…and then some time later woke up with someone’s fingers tapping my beard and lips. My brain woke more quickly than my body which is largely why there wasn’t a flailing response on my side to Lady M checking to see if I was snoring. I remember opening my mouth to protest only to have it firmly closed by my jaw being pushed back up.

Had she woken herself again and assumed it was me doing the snoring? Or had I been snoring? Neither of us knows, as I confirmed amid fits of Lady M’s horrified giggling the next day…

It’s a good job I love her…

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Allowing People To Be Ill

I manage a number of people in a variety of ways and configurations in the day job. While a lot of people can get hung up on managing rotas and directing efforts to make things happen – to firefight when staffing or circumstances require; and to try and forward plan when needed – there’s another side to the job that doesn’t perhaps get the attention or recognition. That is what we call the more pastoral side of management.

This is the side that sees me talking to people about what’s going on in their lives, and almost inevitably about their health. It also brings about what I see as the more grimly amusing element when I think about my own journey: that of making people take time to be sick.

I’m dreadful at permitting myself to take time to be ill – or let people take care of me. Perhaps that’s part of why I’m so militant about ensuring that if people are unwell that we give them the time and permission they are reluctant to give themselves to recover.

I would rather people have time to be ill and recover than make themselves worse or even make their recovery longer by forcing them to work. The slightly less altruistic side of this is that it also gets sick people away from the rest of the staff so they don’t get infected.

By giving people permission to be ill, even when staffing rotas are tight, it gives a reassurance that they are valued – perhaps something that in previous times and places I might wish I had received myself. This is not lost on me.

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Brain Weasels

I love writing, but it’s been difficult to keep the discipline or momentum of it to any degree. Partly it’s been the demands of working, partly the distraction of games and artwork, but mostly it’s been the roiling storm of rabid brain weasels that scamper and claw round and round the inside of my brainpan when I try to pin down stories on the page.

But even so, I’m persevering in the attempt. I’ve been using an online plain text editor with cloud storage: typwrittr.com to tease out fragments without the need to install software or keep saving drafts all over the place, and slowly today I found the beginnings of a short story start to cohere.

The brain weasels are still scrabbling behind my eyes, but I’m determined to wrestle the stories back off them.

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Springtime

I’ve just locked up at work and it’s still daylight. There’s pigeons cooing as they do their best to hump their way through the roofing tiles, and there’s even some warmth to the sunlight. I’m suddenly feeling a bit disoriented.

Other signs as a library person that Spring may have arrived include: an upswing in people borrowing travel guides, less children after school as they either hit the park or are panicking in their revision for exams, and a sudden nagging feeling that the Summer Reading Challenge will soon be upon us and we have no ideas on how to decorate the Children’s Library.

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Anniversaries

Life’s been a bit busy this last month or so – so busy I’ve not blogged here at all. Instead I’ve been posting pictures on Instagram for that immediate slice of life set of updates that is no substitute for chewing the fat.

February was busy with work, birthday, and of course the polya shenanigans of valentine’s bday. March has more significances to me with not one, but two significant anniversaries.

The first was my seventh wedding anniversary with Lady M. It’s marked on our list as the copper anniversary, so we bought little gifts around that theme. Work got in the way of doing anything particularly expansive, but we did have the week off between my birthday and the anniversary to go up and spend time with my parents.

The second anniversary is actually today, and promoted my return to this space. It’s the first anniversary of my collaring Lady S. In this year, we’ve both grown and evolved, and I look at today with the same mix of “a year already?” and “it’s only been a year?” that I do when contemplating my time with Lady M. It’s marked with joy and love, and a degree of irritation that we’re both working and won’t see each other for a few weeks.

But still, anniversaries, and to two women who make my heart glad, blood pump, and brain pop with equal parts joy, lust, love, silliness, and contentment. My wife and my kink-wife for lack of a better description – and life is good.

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Choosing the Opportunity

I was inspired recently by a quote somebody posted on social media. I know, it’s practically unheard of, but it does occasionally happen. I don’t know the ultimate origin of the text, but it essentially said this:

Instead of saying to yourself “oh no, I’ve got to do this” or “I wish I didn’t have to do that” try turning it round. When you wake up in the morning say to yourself “oh, I get to do this today” or “what do I get to do next

Its not a million miles away from my general habit of looking for a silver lining when things go awry – even, or especially, with my tongue planted firmly in my cheek as people react with dismay.

I’ve been actively trying it this week as I approach work, or deal with difficult situations. So far it’s got me to say: “oh I get to sort this situation at work out, and hopefully make things better”

It’s a form of positivity that seems to have a use for me right now – so that’s no bad thing.

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Things Lady M Says: The Groaning Edition

The last couple of months have seen an interesting new evolution in how Lady M communicates with me in her sleep. She works long hours, and drives a lot, so is scrupulous about trying to keep a regular sleep cycle. As I usually take public transport and have regular bouts of insomnia, I have… a less regular sleep cycle.

I do try to go to bed around the same time – on the principle that my body can be resting even if my brain isn’t – and I often read, or do some doodling in bed while she sleeps.

And this is where the groaning comes in. You see Lady M is generally quite a light sleeper, so I think on at least some level she is aware of the light being on, and the movements I make if sketching or writing.

There comes a point where she starts to mutter and groan occasionally under her breath, or to sigh heavily (and what feels decidedly pointedly) as she begins to move her arms and legs and move around. Feet come in search of mine; arms rise, flail, and press down on mine to pin me. A faint frown appears as snores mix with groans, as if she’s trying to tell me to turn the light off even while she’s asleep… and it’s all rather cute, even when I’m trying to extricate myself to do just that and set my alarm.

I can’t get mad; it’s rather endearing, even when a sweeping arm knocks my book flying.

And even being in another room is no defence – if she registers that I’m in another room so as not to disturb her, she moans and groans and tuts louder until I take the hint and join her.

Of course, I have told her all about this, and tease her mercilessly. She feels no shame about it. Well, not much. Maybe the occasional blush…

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