Tuesday 29 January 2013

Ch Ch Ch Ch Changes...

Like or loathe Change? My good friend and CP, Calisa Rhose, has invited me over to her page to hang out for the day, and this is what I'm talking about -- come and join the discussion!

ETA 1st Feb.
I got to thinking the other day when my sister said in an offhand comment ‘everyone hates change’.

I don’t.

 Quite the opposite in fact. I love change.

My favourite season is when they change: winter to spring is inspirational, spring to summer joyful, summer to autumn brings appreciation for the beauty of the changing world and on to winter, when the bright, brisk days exhilarate me.

My favourite weather is when it changes, sun being eclipsed by billowing, purple clouds, the first fat raindrop falling. Vice versa, sunshine through the rain and rainbows arcing through the sky.

Dawn when the moon gives way to the sun, dusk when the sun starts to leave. All wonderful times to be alive with the very air seeming to dissolve in the changing light.

Then there’s the life changing thing. Not quite so easy, or so enjoyable, but heck, when you’ve survived it, nothing beats that feeling. Change scoops you up to tumble in its force, cursing it, helpless but emerging the other side brand spanking new, with a different, more mature outlook on life, and one step closer to peace.

So I scooped up Pippa, my heroine in Romancing the Seas, and put her through the change wringer. 

She leaves a settled life in London behind for a new life in New Zealand. How exciting for her, and the first three chapters were hard for her. But hey she settled and now loves it there, in her brand spanking new life.  Here she is at the start, wondering whether she’s done the right thing:

There were several top-of-the-range treadmills and she chose one, slowly working her stride.
But her mind refused to let up. Why had she come out here to New Zealand? She should have stayed in London, working for Marcus. Okay, maybe she would have moved to a different restaurant, but even then she would have been surrounded by the familiar, not the unknown — and the downright scary. Now she was a prisoner of her own design: new country — heck, new continent — new job, new boss, no friends, and not even any space to call her own.

Maybe she had done the right thing. How could she have stayed in London after what Marcus had done? An up and coming celebrity chef, she had supported him all the way. Until his publicist had said to him, “Lose the sous chef; she’s too ordinary a look for you. You need an it girl on your arm, so all the paparazzi will be snapping you for the celebrity magazines.”

“Look, Pippa,” Marcus had pleaded. “Just give me a couple of years to get to the top of my career and then we can be together properly. We can still be together, but just keep our relationship under cover.”

Pippa had wanted to cry, but instead picked up her bag and walked out of the flat she had never quite moved into.

She had been right to leave. But whether she had been right to leave so drastically, swapping everything she had ever known for the unknown, was very questionable.

Her heart pounded rapidly and she pressed the treadmill button to lower the speed, concentrating on breathing deeply to slow her heart rate down. A light cough from the treadmill beside her nearly threw her off her treadmill in surprise.

Her new roomie.

In an attempt not to let the machine sweep her off, she pumped her legs and finally caught back up with the pace. Great. Glances at the monitor, proudly proclaiming a heart rate of 190, made her want to curl up and die. Mr. Eagleton, on the other hand, appeared very relaxed and loose limbed beside her as he lengthened into his pace, despite a faint sheen of sweat — clearly he had been in the gym for a while.


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