it all comes at once

Last week was one of the most hectic weeks I've had for a long time. It started with my first week of lectures and seminars, of which I had not done the reading, quelle suprise. I really do love Goldsmiths, and 3 our of my 4 modules I have to take this year are truly exciting. I certainly feel I have picked the right course, finally, though I'm already itching to do the MA in Gender and Culture studies, but I've got at least 3 year to wait before I can have the pleasure. Also let's face it, who expects me to keep on track for that long, with my past history of fickleness.

Anyway that was only the beginning of the week. Tuesday was my first introduction to the feminist society at Goldsmiths. It left me hitting my head against a brick wall despairing that it seemed there had been no progression in the minds of these young women and they seemed to be stuck on the second wave feminism of the early 80s. I'm am still hoping that this was just as a reaction to two badly chosen short films and indeed they were better after the discussion the next day on 'where are all the women in art'. Though I wasn't pleased to be subjected to a bizarre documentary with Tracey Emin.

Wednesday came along and it was the first of the two funerals I attended last week. This one was the funeral for a truly great woman who I had the honour to know and to sing for on a number of occasions including her funeral. Marjorie Helps, who was as old labour as anyone I can think of, who worked tirelessly until health inhibited her, who in her last week in hospital, still in full command of her thoughts was saying 'I tried my best for Newham', who without I would not have my job and many would not have any musical education, was laid to rest on Wednesday. The lady was dignified until her last. I sang 'London Pride' through a very thick cold and I'm pretty damn sure she'd have been very pleased to hear it.

By Thursday I was being hassled by the charity I've volunteered to help with fundraising for because I'm a little behind getting their fundraising material ready, but in the circumstances I asked for forgiveness and made no deadline promise, but hopefully will get a lot done next Tuesday.

Friday was by far the most difficult one. Friday was the second funeral of the week and it was the funeral of my dear friend's Dad. He helped me a great deal when I first moved back to London. He took me on holiday to Slovakia, he showed me how to dance by grabbing hold of me and spinning me round his living-room, he called me his other daughter until his new wife went all loopy loo and banned me from the house because she thought I was having an affair with him because I laughed at his jokes. I hadn't seen him for a few years even though I knew he was ill. I hadn't been to the house for many years because after she moved in all soul was scrubbed away and I was no longer welcome. On Friday I returned to the house to support Cas and to say good bye to him, though the Frank I knew left many years ago. I was so proud of Cas at the service, I'd almost forgotten how good a writer she is and the eulogy she read was absolutely perfect. By the end of Friday I was truly wacked and the cold that had been threatening to attack all week finally got me. Since then, apart from a day at work at the academy on Saturday, I've been curled up on a sofa at my parents house. Then returning to my house (which I think of as the hippy uni lodge) I started to do all my work that I need to do before Monday.

And so the week of argggg has finished and now I will try and regain some order. (Though just as the week was finishing I heard that my grandma in Southampton is unwell and we suspect that she had a stroke or something).