Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Writing

Day 192

On a train from somewhere to somewhere else. All things are blurring right now, and energy-wise I feel like I’ve not been on holiday at all. And with these parenting issues which persist I am blaming no-one but myself. It’s going to be a fun therapy session on Wednesday afternoon. The biggest thing I’m struggling with is that it is in fact not in my gift to present any solutions to anyone. But, and this is a big but, a big part of me thinks that I have probably been too soft on all the kids, and with that I mean that I have probably tried too hard to always give them what they wanted and needed, and now, in this second decade of our discontent, they sometimes can’t understand that things must be gone without. I’m not criticising them or the system; it’s a combination of poor governing by the Tories over the last 12 years, and indulgent parenting over the last 29 years. But what is a parent who does not want to provide everything for their children?

Innumerable stations under innumerable clouds. The sun does its best but doesn’t keep us warm in the shade. The train seems so so slow, and everyone on this train is wearing the self-satisfied smile of someone who knows all’s well in their world. While I’m clinging to the cliff with the finger nails of my left hand (and being functionally ambidextrous is irrelevant in this instance).

On train home now, and I have to admit I had a quick pint and met a colleague and had nother quick pint. We spoke about holidays and emotions, and how Agios Nikolaos has become, for me, almost a spiritual home, and how strange that was as M only booked it because qe could fly from Norwich. I am still adrift in that emotion, and miss that, in essence, spiritual feeling that suffused me while we were there.

Parenting conversations were useful, again, in my view. In the ultimate telling, what is our truth. What we want to believe or what we do believe? I may be naive (and will remain so), but in a world full of cynicism, I believe what I see and hear, and don’t and won’t question that. If I did, in all honesty, I could not live or do my job or write. And that really is my bottom line. Mistrust has brought me and the people I love too much pain in the past for me to return to that place.




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