A New Normal

I’ve been finding it hard to write lately, particularly to write something tidy and public such as a blog post. There’s a simple enough reason – it’s because I’m not doing the frontline work that inspires me to write. Other than in an occasional, member-of-the-public sort of way I’ve hardly seen children in ages. Although I do love what I’ve been doing lately (and am adamant that it’s playwork too), this blog was really started as a way for me to share stories from the field and I have been struggling to find a voice without them.  So there’s that, and then there’s also the fact that I now a) have a small readership and b) probably know you all. Anyone who has tried to mention this blog to me at a conference will know that being reminded someone other than my Mum reads it makes me flush bright purple.

I’ll have to find a way around those stumbling blocks, because it seems a bit late to make this blog anonymous.

I spent recent weeks bouncing from place to place, fast as a pinball. I counted it out one afternoon, going through my datebook on a Greyhound bus, and saw I’d changed cities 13 times in 4 weeks. London, Boston, New York, DC, Pittsburgh… I’d changed beds more than that, because of visiting different friends in the same cities, and one bed wasn’t a bed at all but a night bus which broke down. There was plenty of exciting stuff, including the Association of Children’s Museums conference and a Pop-Up Play Day with Providence Children’s Museum. Our online course started, too, with participants from 6 different countries all learning about playwork together. After all this I was pretty shot when I landed in Vermont, my home for the summer.

I’m staying in a town called Brattleboro, living in an art studio/gallery space that looks out over the Connecticut River. Last weekend was an event called the Strolling of the Heifers, when high school marching bands, flower-bedecked cows and homemade parade floats came drifting along Main Street which, coincidentally, is underneath my window.  When I woke up and looked down, it was like being adrift in a very strange sea.

Here I find myself surrounded by the discomfort of answered wishes. Time and space to write? Granted! The chance to dabble again in art? Have a studio! I feel lucky, yes, and also rather overwhelmed. It was a combination of fatigue and shock, I think, that led me to spend so much of my first week here watching Mad Men.  


One thought on “A New Normal

  1. so glad to find you back in this space. I don’t mind what you write I just love to hear your ramblings. There is something poetic about your words

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