As the new chapter begins...

When it comes to nouns, the noun ‘week’, meaning a period of seven days is sometimes woefully inadequate. Because some periods of seven days, nothing much happens and might best be named as, “meh”. Whereas other periods of seven days, absolutely deserve the title of “What-the-fucking-fuck-was-that?”

That was this past 7 days - during which Fergus had a birthday and also passed his driving test. Genghis had sour crop - a condition that can kill even the strongest rooster, but mercifully pulled through. A close relative I love mahoosively, went through major surgery, and thankfully, she's now doing well and out the other side. And Mark and I published a book.

And then, unless you've been living under a rock (In which case, can I join you? Kidding. Not kidding.) you’ll know that America has managed to elect itself a narcissistic, sexual predator, and convicted felon to the highest position in the land. And to add insult to injury, also managed to elect a selection of his evil henchmen to play backing vocals in the Senate and the House.

It's bad. It's Slytherin taking over Hogwarts, bad. Sauron and the Orcs, bad. White Queen taking over Narnia, bad. In fact, think bad and then double it. Then double it again. And add a wee skoosh of ‘totally fucking horrendous.” That kind of bad.

And all of that happened in the past seven days. Since the last time I wrote you one of these Notes.

When you're publishing a book that's made up of weekly notes you send out on Sundays, you have to decide what date the last note of that book will be. So earlier this year, I reckoned I’d make the last post for Notes From The Valley Volume 2, the last Sunday before the election, because the world always changes a bit after an election. Little did I fucking know.

So I so keenly feel the ending of one book and the beginning of this next new tale.

If this new story we’re on the brink of, were in a big leather-bound book and set in some fantastical land, with gollums and Mr Tumnuses and kindly mythical creatures with pointy ears and bulbous toes - we'd all want to settle down in a comfy chair with cup of tea and dive right into it.

But the action of this next saga will take place in real-time, so it's not possible to skip to the end to know that everything turns out ok. Instead, we are characters on the inside of this story and must journey through the uncertainty that lies ahead like Lucy through a wardrobe, or a Hobbit leaving the Shire.

In a big leather-bound storybook, this would be the point in the tale where the characters would sit round a fire and one of the them would, with sparkly eyes, impart some pearl of wisdom to help the others move forward. My eyes are far from sparkly, as I've had problems sleeping. And if you light a fire in the San Fernando Valley right now, you’ll get arrested. And as books go, I veer more towards paperback than leather bound. But I can tell you this piece of information that my Dad told me.

My Dad’s formal education pretty much ended at the age of 7 when he was evacuated to a farm - supposedly to stay safe away from the Nazi bombs, but really just to be cheap farm labor. He started work at the Post Office in Glasgow when he was 14, delivering telegrams on his bike.

I am the youngest of four kids. By the time I came along, he had moved to a position of supervisor in the sorting office. He worked hard. And though he was a reliable, experienced, and respected member of staff, he could not get the promotions he wanted and desperately needed to support the family.

Sectarianism was just a fact at that time in the west coast of Scotland, and it would have been wise for my Dad to announce he was Protestant. Joining the Masonic order was the ticket to promotion. But my Dad was never a player in anyone's team of ‘us against them’. And besides, his mother was Catholic.

I remember as a kid, several times he came back from work, his shoulders hunched, his mood darkened, after hearing of yet another promotion he didn’t get. Yet the next day he’d get up and get on again. Get his suit on and go into work, until there was simply no way to ignore him. Humiliation was not an option, and he refused to go under.

By the time my Dad retired, he’d moved from Glasgow and, having been promoted many many times, was Postmaster of the swanky big Post Office operation in Edinburgh. The top of the rung. He even received a medal for service from the Queen.

And once, when I was going through something so dark that I thought it might swallow me, my Dad told me something I've never forgotten.

He said, “It's easy to be strong when everything is going your way. Any bloody idiot can do that. But the only way you can really know your strength is when things aren’t your way. When you might fail. When you're just hanging on by the skin of your teeth, and there’s a real chance you might not make it. But then you decide you’re just going to make it. That’s when you know who you are.

And when you’re floored and you don't have the fight to get up again, tell yourself you're just stretching, and reach up, and before you know it, you'll find yourself back on your feet. Then you'll see you like I see you. You’re not a bloody idiot. And all those things you think are coming to destroy you, are only just giving you the opportunity to stretch.”

This next new saga is about to begin. There will be hills and valleys, wonderful successes, and terrible defeats. Allow yourself to be the friend, the protector, the bringer of good news. The bright spark, the nursemaid, the healer of wounds. Lean into your instincts and remember that thing about how the greatest of all things is love because, with that, you find faith and hope.

And so, we open on the first page to this new story and the world is dark. People are afraid and the future looks bleak. And then into that story walks our unsuspecting hero.

And that hero is you.

Now stretch.

xo

Thanks for reading. Please click to like the post on the wee heart emoji thing at the top or the bottom, as it helps the algorithm so people can find me.

Notes From the Valley Volume 2 is available now.