A rainy day in Mallorca… #112

Sung to the tune of a night in Georgia 😉

Our Mallorca adventure continues. Four, soon to be five, women in a house on a hill, overlooking the stunning, forever changing, Tramuntana mountains. When the mist and rain lifts anyway.

This blog almost didn’t see the light of day. My mind has been empty. Just enjoying the sun, the early morning sea dips, cycling, chatting, eating, drinking, reading, studying…but then, I kinda made a promise to commit to a weekly muse. And after all, it’s been raining for the last 36 hours so here’s today’s.

A taste of the communal

In some ways this follows my Come Live with Me thoughts. The benefits and accommodations of living with others, even if just temporarily. Four/five women. All in their later fifties and early sixties. Each a product of the years leading to today. Experiences, relationships, habits, upbringing. All playing out in how we navigate three to four weeks of communal living.

A fascination for me is the roles we play and the tasks we naturally default to.

My three friends, each amazing cooks. I’m not. Each night we eat delicious, creative, healthy food. Fish and vegetables grilled, baked, barbequed, roasted. The odd sausage thrown in for good measure.

My role becomes shopper, chopper, table setter, bottle opener, and clearer-upper. All valuable supportive roles. Never the main act. But that works for me; here at least. Why wouldn’t it, I get to eat delicious food in the company of good friends. And someone’s got to be in the chorus line.

I’m also pretty adept at rubbish and recycling, which can be a puzzle in overseas lands. My sensitive nose identifying when food is on the turn or leftovers in need of disposal. And give me a broom or a brush to sweep away errant crumbs and I’m away.

Ingrained habits

It’s curious to observe the habits of my friends. One an inability to shut a cupboard door. Another a need for geometry of items. The other fresh air. Me, I’m drawn to light whether natural, electric or candle.

Each finding a way. Giving each other space. Letting each other be. Recognising we are all odd creatures.

Last night we were talking about our homelives growing up.

One of my friends making us laugh about her mother’s “BN Box” – the Bloody Nuisance Box. In her childhood home her mother’s mantra “a place for everything, and everything in its place”. If it wasn’t, it went in the BN Box.

What a perfect solution to a messy teenager who can never find anything. We don’t have a BN Box as yet, but I guess there’s still time.

Another friend recalled her mum’s egalitarian and foresighted holiday decision to plan food and cook one day each week with her, or one of her two siblings, a sister and a brother, encouraging the art of cooking as she went.

Unlike my friend, I recalled the sexist division of tasks in my home – me the food prep and ironing. My brother the rubbish or any electrical tasks…we don’t talk about the exploding electric blanket. In those pre-You Tube days nobody had told him the importance of the ‘earth’. I guess he had to learn somehow.

Fascinating how we are all formed by these early experiences and how they travel with us through life.

You

As ever, I’m interested in you. What’s the division of tasks and habits in your home? And how do you recall the chores being split growing up?

Put down that broom and drop me a line, I’d love to hear from you.

And remember, you’re never going to be any younger than you are today, is it time to drop that ingrained, irritating (for others) habit of old?

Until next week my friends,

Ruth x

Thanks for reading week 112. If you enjoyed it, or it rang a nostalgic bell, please do leave a comment, a ❤️, subscribe or share. Why not all four? Thank you.