I do my best planning in the shower, well, I plan in the shower, whether it’s my best planning or not is merely subjective, in between drowning and washing my hair. Unfortunately the drowning is a reality. This evening Mr RR came racing up the stairs, deeply perturbed by the coughing and choking noises emanating from the shower. He peeked around the curtain, asking if I was OK, to which I responded “I was moving the shower curtain, and with the water and the breathing, well it became complicated.” Oh yes ladies and gentlemen,there we have it. Teacher, educator,scholar moulding the future generation of the nation with a post graduate qualification, a degree, numerous GCSEs and A-Levels and I can’t manage to move a shower curtain and breathe at the same time.
You see, I was testing out my new bath board, a nifty appliance which will enable me to have a shower. All.by.myself. This is a momentous occasion. Indeed, had Mr RR not been summoned by the choking noises, he would have been free to continue watching Star Trek, The News or whatever else had taken his fancy.
It led me to think of the varying occasions in my life when I thought myself to be independent. Does the path to independence begin when we start to crawl and take those few tentative steps towards an expectant parent? Is it when those steps turn into a purposeful walk,choosing where we want to go?Is it the sneaky cigarette as a teenager, spraying deoderant and chewing gum furtively to ensure that you’re not caught out? When we get our first paid job, feeling the warm glow which accompanies being paid an often meagre amount but knowing that money is yours to spend as your wish? With the purchase of a beaten up, battered second hand car that you believe yourself to love more than your sister, and indeed, are prepared to sell your sister (and your brother too, if it came down to it) to put this wreck through its MOT? Or moving away from home for the first time to university, not recognising that you’ll still spend most of the holidays at home, counting the minutes until you will be free to do as you wish, come home at any time without the ringing in your ears of “You treat this place like a hotel?”
In truth, it could be any one of these rites of passage or a myriad of many others, but for me, today, a little piece of indepence came in the form of a plastic bath board. Good things come in little packages, it would seem.