Half Term

Visiting relatives and catching up—we live so spread out across the country that maintaining a light touch in family relationships becomes impossible. It’s a three-hour drive and a three-day stay, which initially sounds great, but after a day or two, the teenagers get grumpy and want to be back with their mates, the 6 year old has her grandparents rapped around her finger. Grandad wants a bit of peace, and Nanny struggles with the disorder of two families in one house. I take a book or a piece of work I want to carry on with, but instead, I end up sitting around, drinking tea, and catching up with the flow of extended family. How lucky I am to have a family that takes time out to come over, sit, and chat. After three days, though, the need to do something starts itching under the surface.

Even when we return home, there’s still a heap of washing to unpack and sort—a food shop to do, a playdate to arrange, a piano lesson to get to, and homework to tackle. It’s easy to forget how precious this family time is without stepping away to truly appreciate it. Yet, when an hour unexpectedly appears on a Friday afternoon, it doesn’t seem like enough time to start anything.

An Hour to Myself

My mind is racing, and I can’t focus on the drawings I had started before half-term. In the quiet, I allow myself to scribble and scrap, to explore shapes and marks. It’s frenzied rather than considered—not a piece of work or even a development, just an outlet for energy. It feels good. A release.