31 Days of Blogging - Day 27

Day 27 – Roxette – I Wish I Could Fly



Another decade was over – a fiery decade – another life changing decade.

As the 1990’s drifted to a close and a new millennium, no less, was upon me, I finally began to settle and take stock of my life again. You would have thought that would have managed over the previous 38 years – but I like to think that life is a constant challenge and evolution and self-development are inevitable.

This is the approach I decided to take as 1999 became 2000.

And for once I was content.

I had first heard I Wish I Could Fly sometime in 1999, as my time in Hong Kong was over. Mrs PM and I were happy and all I could think of was a rosy future. The song reminds me of the new feeling of hope that I had.

I was happy and I still am – nothing much has changed in that area – apart from possibly being even happier.

That’s not to say it wasn’t tough at first. I was used to living in a three bedroomed detached house and found myself renting a house for six months before we bought a two bedroomed (and small) flat.

It was the first time Mrs PM had owned her own place and she was very excited. I wasn’t as excited as she was because I was used to a house and this place was much smaller than I was used to, although it was very homely.

I am a bit of a hoarder and I had a lot of stuff. There was no room in the flat so I had to make sacrifices – and that hurt.

The flat was another brand new property in South Manchester and right next to an area that was a thriving student community.

In fact, I had come full circle because it was about 100 yards away from the bedsit I had first lived in way back in 1984 – remember the mad professor who thought that there was a pervert leaving elastic bands on his front door?

He was long gone and the building I had lived in had become (and still is) an old people’s home. Thinking about it, moving back to the area I first lived in when I first came to Manchester, didn’t seem like a good plan of attack to get my life back on track .

But in a way, it kind of worked. I started to look back at what my life was like back then and it helped me decide on a way forward – with Mrs PM’s help of course.

The area was a lot livelier than I remember and the number of student bars that had suddenly appeared was incredible.

I began to feel quite old for the first time in my life, mainly because I realised that students looked like children and the fact that my fortieth birthday was just around the corner didn’t help me.

In 2001, I finally suggested to Mrs PM that we ought to consider looking for a bigger place. I think at first she was reluctant, but when we talked about it, she began to see my point of view. We were living on the top floor of a block of flats in a lively area and I wanted something a little bigger and a little more peaceful.

Mrs PM agreed and we began to hunt for houses.

In the end, we had a couple of failures, as the housing market was on the up. Mrs PM has a penchant for older period houses and had a fairly specific style of house in mind.

And we found one.

There were quite a few problems trying to buy the place, mainly because we were in a chain and we were let down a couple of times by people who said they wanted the flat and then changed their minds. It was quite frustrating.

We got there eventually.

My life was settling down at last. The plan started to come together.

I was content. Mrs PM was content.

I was finally learning to fly.