Winter sun by Lady E

My daughter’s hand is pulling inside mine as we walk briskly in the cold still air. We reach the top of the path and stop, puffing out little bits of cloud. I tell my daughter she should quit smoking, she rolls her eyes and with the patience of a seven year old humouring her predictable, dodgy-humoured, possibly dim-witted mother, replies that she can’t because she doesn’t smoke. Before us the valley spreads out, blanketed in a mist of pollution that the pale sun hasn’t managed to lift.

A new year has come.

And a whole year has somehow elapsed since my urge to write was last bad enough that I did. Since, so much has happened in the world that the changes in my life feel microscopic.

My son is now 13, taller than me (which is not exactly an achievement), and methodically conforming to every cliché about teenage, with the result that I often feel like throwing him in the large, green, recycling bin. Yet I somehow trust that he will not do anything truly stupid or dangerous, and at times get rewarded with a glimpse of the broad-shouldered, thoughtful and clever man he will become.

My daughter is growing too, my heart clenches to see her begin to struggle with the complicated politics of primary school girlfriendship, and lifts to see the never-ending stream of crafty creations she leaves lying about in an artistic trail of mess around the house.

The changes in me are more subtle: I probably have more grey hair, miles on the bike, experience in academic international relations, and compassion. I still work and shout at my kids far too much. I am still single, alternately grateful for the lack of additional complication in my life and dying for a pair of arms to disappear into.

Outside the realm of our family, the past year seems to have been marked by a growing sense of fear and the temptation of nations to close in on themselves. In contrast, I have become more involved in some of the million initiatives we hardly ever hear about, by people who believe in togetherness, in giving their time and energy for others, in welcoming refugees, choosing environmentally and socially responsible banks, retailers, life-styles without waiting for everyone else to do so.

It all started a few years ago, when I crowd-funded a French documentary project called Demain (which means tomorrow).

The film came out in December 2015, has been screened in 27 countries and is a real antidote to today’s sense of doom and gloom. It is now available on DVD with English subtitles. Watch it, it may change your life… and ther’s a special prize if you can spot my photo at the end of the credits: I haven’t managed yet in the midst of the 10,000 other people who funded the film.

Anyway, it’s been a long-time since I heard from any of you and would love to know: How have you been? How did you react to events in 2016? What are your big or little ways of making the world a better place?

In the meantime, I wish you an amazing day, an amazing year 2017.

Coldplay – Amazing Day


4 thoughts on “Demain

  1. It was great to hear from you …
    With marital legal and financial ties finally ending in late 2015, 2016 was a year of transition, just standing still while i decided what to do. I used that year to spend a bit of time with my siblings, visiting my son in Canada. At the end of the year I bought a house in a new area to be nearer two of my children. Life moves on.
    All the best to you for 2017.

  2. Hello Lady E. i suddenly realised we haven’t heard from you for ages. I hope all is well and 2017 is proving to be a good year for you.

    • Thanks Judith, all is pretty much well in 2017, albeit frantically busy. I no longer take the time to read or write blog posts, which is a shame in a way, but hey such is life : I have a very demanding job, a grumpy teenager and busy schoolgirl at home, a house and garden to keep up with, friends to see, things to do… It’s all too much as usual, but hey, I’m lucky everyone is well, I have a job, a roof over our heads and our country is safe. How about you ??? xx

  3. Your remark about your son made me smile. I am the proud father of three daughters and through them I discovered the following. Up to the age of ten or eleven your children are lovely apple blossoms, despite the crying and odd tantrum. Between the ages of 13 and about 20 they become bee stings until morphing into critics, often referring to your failure to bring them up properly. Despite that I love them all and trust the feeling is mutual 🙂 I

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