November already

If there's one time of year the house really lends itself to, it's Halloween. We have a giant spider resident above the kitchen door, and our hearts give a little skip everytime we pass through. However, the cobwebs aren't quite visible enough, so we hunt under the stairs for last years fake stuff. It's a nightmare to unravel, as my hands are as rough as sandpaper, and catch constantly in the fibrous material. All the scrubbing has had an adverse effect. The children have spent the morning researching the Mexican Day of The Dead, and Halloween, and we make 'bread of the dead' and carve pumpkins to honour them both. Their friends arrive, and we eat the traditional 'worms in blood sauce' and 'scab cakes' by candlelight, then finish off with ghost stories round the roaring fire.

Mark and I have a night off, and discuss our options in letting the house. The new tenant is elusive and we have to consider a plan B, as there are now less than two weeks til our departure. Cash is proving to be a major worry. The mortgage company want £200 to allow us to rent our house out, the electicity and gas checks will be the same again, the car needs fixing, a laptop needs buying - it feels like all our money will be spent before we even leave. I need to think creatively about what to do, but everything seems to be closing in, my mind is a fog of unconnected thoughts, and flits ever faster from one to the next, not quite managing to make sense of any of them. I need to relax and get things into proportion, but can't quite manage it.

November the 1st already. I wake up feeling close to tears, and make porridge for everyone. Mark and I hardly speak, we are both so engrossed in our own schedules. Too much going on in our individual heads, so that all exchange is curt and unfinished and we snap and grunt at each other. The children too are argumentative, and Silvie has circles under her eyes from the late night and cries at the slightest provocation. All my attempts to comfort and reconcile her with her sister fail, so I take her back to bed for a sleep. She is miserable, and takes it as a punishment despite my soft words, and I leave her abruptly before my temper flares, knowing full well she will not sleep, but instead creep into the little loft space and play with some long forgotten toy that has been packed away in readiness, or read voraciously with her tired little eyes until I return. Frida is on track with her school work. She is shining and happy with caravan school, and pleased to be relieved of the distraction that is her little sister. I go and clear out cupboards, my stimulating new job. The big green recycling bin is full of the old magazines and paperwork that has been building up for years. It feels like moving house all over again.

We are going to Yorkshire to see Doreen, Mark's mum at 7 O'clock, and I am frantic and over emotional, and desperate to get on. The children want me constantly, and my temper flares. I take Silvie to see the Headmaster, 'Mr Dobbs' (A.K.A. Mark), and he offers her the kind, calm words and that I was unable to provide.

Later, in the garden, me and Mark have the row that has been brewing all week, and we go as far as calling the trip off. Both of us. He threatens, and I bark back my assent and we separate in a fury. Twenty minutes later he brings his peace offerings of coffee and cigarettes, and we speak gently and apologetically to each other. He offers me some time alone. He will take the children to Yorkshire without me, and I will phone Doreen to chat and apologise for my absence. I have gained a full day and a half. Time to think and be alone. My body relaxes. We hold each other and kiss each other's faces. We are back together as a team with a mission.