Crying

It's been a big few days for blubbing.  I don't have a proper cry all that often, and when I do it is very rarely in front of others.  I always feel better for a good sob though, and am "lucky" in that if I want to cry, I can easily bring it on by reading. 

The blub-fest today was helped on by the fact that I had very little sleep last night.  I have enjoyed the Olympics immensely, and felt that I just had to watch the Closing Ceremony in its entirety, despite the fact that it clearly wasn't as good as the Opening Ceremony, or the games themselves.

I had cried my way through the end of Hitler's Canary in the morning, but you'd have to have the heart of a statue not to cry at that.  I cried during the closing ceremony when Gary Barlow sang about stars lighting up the sky, following the death of his baby girl just last week.  Just when I had re-composed myself after that, they did a montage including Gemma Gibbons mouthing "I love you Mum" up to the heavens after going through to the final in Judo.  Gets me every time.

This morning, I was more shouty than sad, which is my general disposition these days after going to be after midnight. I never was a particular party animal even in my youth, and have found my stamina for late nights has diminished as my responsibilites have grown.  However, there were several reading-related blubbing flashpoints today.

1) Reading The Story of Wenlock and Mandeville by Barry Timms and Michael Morpurgo to C.  We have bought a fair amount of Olympic paraphenalia today (of which more later) for a significantly reduced price, including this much-longed for by C book.  I remember rolling my eyes when my colleague bought it and said it was quite moving.  It is a really lovely story and I would urge anyone with mascot-loving offspring to indulge in a copy.

2) The Olympics poem by Carol Ann Duffy.  I love a bit of Carol Ann Duffy.  I even love her after teaching her poetry to dis-engaged seventeen year olds for several years.  Her poems told from the point of view of various fictional wives of historical characters really awakened a sense of the unfairness of the way history is narrated by men and for men.  Also they are very witty poems.  Her Olympics poem is moving and heart-warming, and I am already planning how to pitch it to the teens who happen to find themselves in my classroom come September.

3) I didn't actually blub at this, but felt almost moved to.  In June, I bought C the London 2012 Destination Junior board game from the fabulous Happy Puzzle Company, for £23.99.  £23.99!  Today, in Home Bargains, I was rubbing my hands with glee at getting a cuddly Mandeville for each child to take to the Paralympics for 59 of your English pence, when I just happened to glance down at the bottom shelf, where they had Destination Junior for £3.99.  Now, don't get me wrong, we've enjoyed playing the game.  But we've only played it about four times since June, having been away on our hols and all.  So that's £5 per game.  £20 I will never see again.  £20 that will haunt me, whenever I see something that I really want, but cannot justify spending £20 on.  Still, at least it will take the place of the £25.60 which has haunted me since 2001, when I left a £6 train ticket in Mr M's room in his student house and had to buy a full price one at the station.  That £25.60 could have bought a LOT of stuff.  Especially the 60p.  You could have a cuddly Wenlock from Home Bargains for that.  Or three Team GB shower caps.

4) The magazine of the British Heart Foundation.  Specifically this story:  http://www.bhf.org.uk/heart-matters-online/august-september-2012/my-story/heart-transplant/organ-donor-familys-story.aspx  As I was reading it C said, "Mummy, you look really sad reading that magazine, there are tears and everything - stop reading it!"  I explained what the story was about and why it was so, so sad, and a bit happy at the same time.  He thought that people who received donated organs were somehow re-born as newborn baby, which would be pretty cool, if a little bit difficult for their families, practically speaking.  After I explained further he said "What a lovely thing for that nice lady to do".  Such a beautiful, smiling face looking up from the page. Such a heartfelt story.  These things never fail to get the tears moving.