Saturday, 12 March 2011
Pieces of Eight
It appears my task over the following few months is to organise a summer ball for the parents at my childrens school. Throughout my fifty three years it has never ceased to amaze me the multitude of skills other people believe I have and now indentified, the powers that be seem intent to capitalise on my very rusty fundraising experience despite being privvy to my somewhat precarious financial position.
Aside from the obvious pitfalls which go hand in hand with the chairing any committee, I cannot dispute the fact my new role has me given a much needed and far healthier focus to my days. Not only has it provided me with a welcome escape from reality but on occasion, it physically removes me from my insular existence and debt fighting crusade which has bordered on an all consuming obsession. Without this distraction I know I would spend each and every day bailing water from a life ressembling little more than a decrepid and excessively leaky boat in an effort to keep my family together. Behind the outward facade of the archetypal housewife and mother, I have, for two whole years covertly beaten off the predatory loan sharks which constantly circle us and living every moment under this immense pressure has cost me every hair on my head.
In the blink of an eye, as Chairman of the Friends, I am transported to the helm of a quality vessel which docks in prestigious ports and rubs shoulders with, unlike me, financially established people who are more than happy to take my lead when braving the often turbulent waters of fund raising. However, despite this welcome shift in how I now occupy the hours, not a day goes by when I do not lament the decision my husband made to discard my sea fairing kills and instead whispering his sweet and beautifully memorised nothings in my ear. Foolishly I believed him when he spoke of Pieces of Eight.