Tuesday, 5 March 2013

The symbolic meaning of a cake

Finally home from another long day. Library working, interviewing, and going to Leeds for a post grad open evening where I had a rather long chat with the leaders of Psychology and also a tutor on the counselling and psychotherapy practitioner training course. I haven't applied for this training at Leeds but have to admit I'm curious, since that's the one I've applied for in York and am desperately hoping to be offered a place. I was really pleasantly surprised after meeting and chatting with the Psychologists there though.

Today I also interviewed the first participant for my dissertation and I'm so relieved and pleased with how it went. I can't say much, but I am really happy and found myself losing my anxiety and actually enjoying being the interviewer and meeting my participant. Now I'm home I've set camp in bed to begin what I've been told is a long process of transcribing lots and lots of (hopefully wonderfully helpful) words. At least I am warm and have a huge mug of hot chocolate by my side.

It is also my Mother's birthday today. Happy birthday Mum! The family celebrated her birthday last night, when I travelled back to Harrogate armed with cake and much excitement to spent a nice evening with my family. It was really nice - My sisters and I cooked dinner for everyone and we just enjoyed company, laughing about silly, and sometimes inappropriate things, as only families can do.

As I was walking into York station to board the train to Harrogate, I didn't buy a coffee for the train because of lack of free hands. I then arrived at the ticket machine to realize this was also a struggle - I had no free hands to purchase my ticket because I was carrying a large bag and a huge cake in both hands. So what would usually be an ordinary task I don't think twice about, turned out to be a challenge. This cake was a three layer beauty - very heavy! But for me, the cake wasn't just a three layer birthday cake for my Mother, it was a rather symbolic representation of life right now. This thought of cakes and symbolism and life entertained my mind as I walked through the station and couldn't even open doors for myself. It would seem that my hands are so full that I physically cannot take on any more. I am carrying all that's important to me - it's heavy and makes my arms ache, but I'm carrying it all nonetheless. But unless I begin to take the layers off the cake, I highly doubt there's room for much more.

Here is the cake, by the way. Home made by Bryony and I. I think it was thoroughly enjoyed by all.

1 comment:

  1. Wow, this is a beautiful post. Very meaningful and thought provoking. I hope it was a lovely evening for you all. xx