Oh crap

What did I say again?  New starts and all that - blah, blah, blah.  It feels like an endless rush at the moment.

On the plus side I have a lovely photograph of another Guide Dog pup (who lives with another walker but for whom I have always had a soft spot - point; for the dog and not the walker this soft spot occurs.  I do not travel down that particular route for relationships.  FFS get on with it...)

Yeah, so, I have a cute photo and I'm sure current Andrex hopeful lying snoozing on the rug at the moment is jealous.  I was hugging youngest Hobbit earlier after an incident where I accidentally bashed him on the head with the corner of a book (he moved forward, I was reaching toward the bookcase with said very-heavy book in hand - bang.)  Anywhatthehellissheontonight, much tears ensued and as I gave comfort to him I was getting big sad, look-at-me-mummy eyes from pooch.  He then dunks his head on my lap next to sniffling Hobbit, like I needed another hint.  Honestly.  But at the same point I couldn't do without.

I really need a decent night sleep, I think *that* is evident.  Especially from this rambling nonsense.  But then sometimes I like to think that as I send this out to the ether then someone might raise a smile from it.  Or call the men in white coats.  Whatever comes first.

Interestingly I have noticed that I no longer swear as much as I used to.  Except when I'm driving then I'm a right Gordon Ramsey.  But being a singleton without the stress of a dead weight marriage strangling you will do that I suppose.  Ah.

Once again this time with feeling...

I'm keen on the concept of recycling so won't be ashamed of using a photo that is a couple of years old.  Particularly when that photo has Paris giving the evil side-eye from underneath the tree.  The decorations haven't changed much anyway.  Is this all sounding a bit ho-hum?

I don't mean to be, occasionally I will admit to having the same thoughts that were running through Paris's mind at time of capture here.  On the most though things are going fine at the moment and I won't say more than that as I wouldn't like to curse it all.

The presents are bought and hidden, the plans are being made and it will be a relief to stay at home all Christmas Day - I won't even pretend that it will be relaxing in any shape or form.  Oh hell where am I going with this.  I don't believe in New Years Resolutions but I do wish to nurture this little blog of mine a little more if only to write this tosh and not have it messing up around my weary head.

Where does all the time go?

It runs past so quickly I really want to trip it up and slow things down for a while but that isn't going to happen anytime soon.

So much is happening I can barely catch my breath and to be honest I am still being relied upon for everything by everybody which isn't always the ideal situation.  Correction, it isn't the ideal situation at all at all or I wouldn't be online at this time trying to catch up with everything that is falling by the wayside.

There will come a time where I can get back to the old organised me and I look forward to that.  It doesn't matter much in the grand scheme of things but it matters to me.

When I turn my face to the cold winter sun and close my eyes I can remember Portugal.

(Yes the simple little package holiday really did mean that much to old stressy head here.)

Can you tell me how to get...

...if you are about to add "how to get to Sesame Street" then pull up a chair and grab a slice of birthday cake.

I don't know if it makes me feel very old or not so bad that Sesame Street is 40 years old.  Very old in that I loved watching it when I was little; from the slightly trippy and Monty Pythonesque counting pinball (my personal favourite even though it left me feeling a little spaced out) to the annoyingly nasal Big Bird.  Not so bad in that I didn't realise it was older than me - yay me!

I saw places I'd never been when they went out and about in New York, learned sign language with Linda - it fairly widened the horizons of a little girl living in a Scottish village.  Oh and that is Mr. Snuffleupagus in the photo, like you had to ask.

Oh yeah, almost forgot...

Happy Samhain or dia de los muertos or Hallowe'en, whatever spooks you.

Congratulations I am only a couple of days late.

*sigh*

Warm Memories Of Warm Days

Wish I Wasn't Here

The only problem with having a wonderfully relaxing holiday is that sometimes - no, most times actually it makes having to come back down to reality a lot worse. An effect of seven days of relaxation is that a return to routine is like a bucket of cold water over the head.

Yes I am feeling like that but now I know where to imagine when I have to find that "happy place" to get me through.

On the other hand - it is only 55 days until Christmas.

And now we start on the boy bands...

A few days ago Celebrity Death Year realised it had slowed down a little and so decided to shock the crap out of us all with yet another departure.

This time a boy band member who died of "natural causes". He wasn't ill, as far as I know, and considering I knew nothing really of him apart from going "oh its them again" when the band appeared on the telly, I know nuffing. So naturally the death of Stephen Gately (spelling probably wrong but I can't be arsed to Google it at the moment) has sent the shivers up everyone.

And Death has a cackle to itself as it flicks through the celebrity magazine looking for the next one.

Nevermind, Hobbits and I are off on holiday tomorrow, actually it is Thursday morning at bloody-hell-it-is-early o'clock but tomorrow sounds closer. If I see a celeb getting on the plane I think we'll walk.

Poo Bum Sticks

So, looks like once again luck is not on my side, or anywhere near my side, or even within spitting distance.

As far as I can tell we will be staying put. The one thing that would have made my life and that of the Hobbits so much nicer is once again out of reach and it is so frustrating, so horribly frustrating that I could just burst.

Not ideal. In fact very far from ideal. But what should I expect? It seems to be my lot in life that the easiest path is the one denied. While others seem to glide through life enjoying this and that I get the shitty end of the stick.

It is hard to see the good side in things at the moment, it is very hard to see anything at the moment.

Patrick Swuzzle AND Keith Floyd! No!

In one day...

and the celebrity death year carries on with haste.

A Vision Of Inside My Mind At The Moment

Artsy Fartsy and a Day at the Beach

This week I joined a new and odd club at the Hobbit's school. An art club for parents. Well, I thought it would be a room full of earnest artists scrutinising their daubing on easels (the paintings would be on the easels naturally and not the artists.) Of course it was all mums, and as we got cramp sitting on seats made for six-year-olds our art was to make hand print self portraits.

And you know.

It was actually really good fun. The hour whizzed by, it was so amazingly relaxing and nice. I'm thinking this must be what the Stitch and Bitch groups are like. The art might have made our little ones jealous but there are other projects to hand. Some might sneer at a group of grown women hunched over paper gluing on bits of glitter and feathers but sod them, it was light-hearted because we were doing something we would do with our children. There were thankfully no show off snobs.

Next one is on Wednesday and I'm looking forward to it.

Don't have a picture of that but do have a picture of Andrex II on the beach at Kinghorn during a Guide Dog puppy takeover day. Okay, there were only three and one pet dog but still, much fun was had rolling about the surf and sand.

Words for Women to Live By

1. Aspire to be Barbie - the bitch has everything.

2. If the shoe fits - buy them in every color.

3. Take life with a pinch of salt... A wedge of lime, and a shot of tequila.

4. In need of a support group? - Cocktail hour with the girls!

5. Go on the 30 day diet. (I'm on it and so far I've lost 15 days).

6. When life gets you down - just put on your big girl panties and deal with it.

7. Let your greatest fear be that there is no PMS and this is just your personality.

8. I know I'm in my own little world, but it's ok. They know me here.

9. Lead me not into temptation, I can find it myself.

10. Don't get your knickers in a knot; it solves nothing and makes you walk funny.

11. When life gives you lemons turn it into lemonade then mix it with vodka.

12. Remember wherever there is a good looking,sweet, single or married man there is some woman tired of his bullshit!

13. Keep your chin up, only the first 40 years of parenthood are hard.

14. If it has Tires or Testicles it's gonna give you trouble.

15. By the time a woman realizes her mother was right, she has a daughter who thinks she's wrong.

RIP Ted Kennedy

...and the Celebrity Death Year continues...

Humdrum

Hobbits: back to school, happy, contented.

Moving house: on hold while lawyers prove that snails are not the slowest things around.

Life: see above.

The weather is meh. Am feeling pretty meh. At least the pup keeps me entertained.

I still have a lot to do but getting the enthusiasm to do anything is hard.

Evidence that in some respects I have no patience.

99 Things

Things you've already done: bold
Things you want to do: italicize
Things you haven't done and don't want to - leave in plain font

1. started your own blog
2. slept under the stars
3. played in a band
4. visited hawaii
5. watched a meteor shower
6. given more than you can afford to charity
7. been to disneyland/world
8. climbed a mountain
9. held a praying mantis
10. sang a solo
11. bungee jumped
12. visited paris
13. watched a lightning storm at sea
14. taught yourself an art from scratch
15. adopted a child
16. had food poisoning
17. walked to the top of the statue of liberty
18. grown your own vegetables
19. seen the mona lisa in france
20. slept on an overnight train
21. had a pillow fight
22. hitch hiked
23. taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. built a snow fort
25. held a lamb
26. gone skinny dipping
27. run a marathon
28. ridden a gondola in venice
29. seen a total eclipse
30. watched a sunrise or sunset
31. hit a home run
32. been on a cruise
33. seen niagara falls in person
34. visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. seen an amish community - well not the community but Amish people take the Greyhound bus a lot so I saw them there and they are lovely people.
36. taught yourself a new language
37. had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. seen the leaning tower of pisa in person
39. gone rock climbing
40. seen michelangelo's david in person
41. sung karaoke
42. seen old faithful geyser erupt
43. bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant - I bought a homeless man a McD's once?
44. visited africa
45. walked on a beach by moonlight
46. been transported in an ambulance
47. had your portrait painted - not painted but drawn as in a cartoonist!
48. gone deep sea fishing
49. seen the sistene chapel in person
50. been to the top of the eiffel tower in paris
51. gone scuba diving or snorkelling
52. kissed in the rain
53. played in the mud
54. gone to a drive-in theatre
55. been in a movie
56. visited the great wall of china
57. started a business
58. taken a martial arts class
59. visited russia
60. served at a soup kitchen
61. sold girl scout cookies - it is just as well I live in the US so I can answer these ones!
62. gone whale watching - see above!
63. gotten flowers for no reason - there is always a reason!
64. donated blood
65. gone sky diving
66. visited a nazi concentration camp
67. bounced a cheque
68. flown in a helicopter
69. saved a favorite childhood toy
70. visited the lincoln memorial
71. eaten caviar
72. pieced a quilt
73. stood in times square
74. toured the everglades
75. been fired from a job
76. seen the changing of the guard in london
77. broken a bone
78. been on a speeding motorcycle
79. seen the grand canyon in person
80. published a book
81. visited the vatican
82. bought a brand new car
83. walked in jerusalem
84. had your picture in the newspaper
85. read the entire bible
86. visited the white house
87. killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. had chickenpox
89. saved someone’s life
90. sat on a jury
91. met someone famous
92. joined a book club
93. lost a loved one
94. had a baby
95. seen the alamo in person.
96. swum in the great salt lake.
97. been involved in a law suit
98. owned a cell phone
99. been stung by a bee - and a wasp, and a spider! I get the hint.

Its A Little Bit Like That Today

After a lovely time at the Edinburgh Book Festival thanks to the generousity of a lovely person I was all set for some time to myself today. My mother was staying over for that purpose although she had the duty of puppy sitting in the morning.

Well, that was before Eldest Hobbit began decorating the living room with copious amounts of icky sick.

Lord knows what or why but first the sofa got it, then the rug. By this time he was in the bathroom terrifying the cats with strange and horrible sounds. There is not much to do other than offer comfort and checking constantly that he wasn't developing anything worse.

After being sick for the umpteenth time at sometime beyond 1am he turned to me and said "Its been a terrible night!"

Funny how the silly things can raise a smile during the worst of times.

He is all better now thankfully, school starts on Tuesday. Yippee!

xkcd

RIP John Hughes

"Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

*So far this is turning into Celebrity Death Year - who is next?

If I Wish Reeeaaalllyyy Hard...

...then tomorrow I *won't* get a phone call from the garage during the day telling me that my car needs x, y and expensive z done to it.

It would be a miracle, same as if the Hobbits ever tidied their room from the current bombsite it is to something reasonable.

Also, it is interesting that today, while out and about, the little cough I have because I am so run down and low on batteries seems to cause alarm in those around me. Schadenfreude would find it very funny, and keep coughing. Or maybe add a sneeze or two in.

Its One Small Step For Hobbits

A well know fact in this house anyway, is the Hobbits love for Space.

Anything to do with Space, planets, the universe, black holes etc. etc.

Considering that in the 40 years since humans first littered up the moon with their footprints there hasn't been as much progress as one would think there would have been who knows what it will be like when they are older. Youngest Hobbit would very much like to be an astronaut and go bobbing about in the great out there.

As Eldest Hobbit still fancies being a pilot (though guess who was better at the flight simulator at the Museum of Flight on our last visit? *cough* ahem, ahem) then he could always fly his brother to the stars.

But I have signed them up to this brilliant idea!

No matter what, at least they will get to Mars, if only by name!

Life In Pause

So, while the summer holidays roll (and roll and roll and roll) on things have come to a stand still.

Although my mother's house sold pretty damn fast considering, and we got more than we thought we would, thanks to old-fashioned considerations we have to wait for the house to be transferred from my dad's name to hers. As this is in the hands of the solicitors and courts, the only way to do it unfortunately, it will take time.

Everyone and their dog has applied for an Open Market Equity thingy, so there is a 12 week wait to hear whether or not we are successful, and if we are not - well, I suppose we could afford somewhere in Poland if not.

Therefore everything has ground to a stand still.

I had hoped to be moved next month, I hope to all the gods and fates and destiny that the house we want doesn't sell in the meantime. Maybe things will all fall into place, I can only hope and hope and hope. It is difficult when everyone relies on me and maybe I'm just not up to it.

To Know Or Not To Know

I have been wondering, and decided that sometimes, when things aren't going according to a badly laid out plan then to find a way to look to the future offers some comfort.

Does that make sense?

Nothing I do seems to.

I have an uphill struggle at the moment and many people relying on me and me alone to see them through this.

I hide myself away in my stitching, in my writing and other past-times. At this moment I could probably finish my current OU course in one week but not do very good at it for that rush. Plus as I will be on holiday when the final exam is on, and the resit isn't until April, then there is no need to hurry just to fill my mind with other things.

This year so far I have: arranged a funeral for the first time ever, started the process of selling a house, started the process of buying a house - again neither of which I've done before and this all on my own as my mother has decided that I can replace my dad in the grand scheme of things as organiser of everything, and I only now realise how much he actually did. All this and I still haven't really had time to grieve for my dad. I have a feeling I'll get on holiday and just slump into a heap.

So I've decided on asking for a little *divine* help. No, I've not decided to believe in the God of the riches, never will I sign on to what is no more than a continuation of the ancient Roman society (no I've not gone mad - close, but not quite) in the form of religion. Instead I've returned to my old hobby and hopefully will get some answers - not a crystal ball but not far off.

A Moment Of Zen

Bravery.

Courage.

Second Verse, Same As The First

Or should that title be - Oops I Did It Again!

After the departure of the previous Andrex lookey-likey, who is doing extremely well at the Guide Dog school (so named by the Hobbits and quite appropriately too), the *new* Andrex lookey-likey arrived this week.

So far so placid. Although he screams bloody murder at night when he realises everyone is in bed and not around to sleep on.

For this one I bought a pet-a-roo as seen thus =======>

Yes really. But as I can take him in to shops even at the tender age he is now, it makes it easier and is more comfortable for him. As he isn't allowed normal walks until he has his full vaccines (Guide Dogs give him some at 6 weeks for socialisation purposes) I don't mind playing Kanga to give him some outings.

First one was today. He didn't pee on me. So far so good.

The Heart of the Ocean Returned

In what can only be described as the weirdest of coincidences, yesterday, on the 98th anniversary of the launch of the Titanic, the last survivor died.

Of course, she won't have remembered it, being a little mite of only a few weeks old at the time but I suppose Millvina Dean would have spent her life in the shadow of the tragedy she survived. Her father died, as so many men did. Not the MD of the White Star Line though, in a selfishness that would fit in nicely now, he made sure he was fine.

Everyone has a fascination with this one disaster. Try thinking about it without that god-awful Celene Dion song though is difficult. Still...the fascination is of interest itself. And now there is no one left who spent that cold night drifting in the lifeboats.

Reality Bites

So tonight was the finale of Britain's Got Talent and did I watch it. Nope. Even though the lady with the teddy bear hair lives only a few miles from my door. I know she didn't win though, and I know who did. And why? Because these shows have become so much part of the fabric of every day life that the incidents and outcomes make the news.

Slow news day or no news day or catering for the masses?

Another point is this fascination with sticking the beak into people's family lives. I'll admit I've watched an episode of Jon and Kate plus 8. The idea of sextuplets is of curiosity, I know what two are like so triple that...Only the show seemed more about the mother, I am judgemental, I didn't really like her and it would seem that reality was not so much what was depicted as the concept behind the show. Okay, I'll be blunt, as is my want, she came across as a bit of a bitch and not exactly a warm and caring mother. That is entirely my opinion and I wouldn't expect anyone else to follow what I say.

Only there are people who watch these programmes, who become so involved with them that they get carried away in the lives of people with teddy bear hair or beaver tail hair. (I have a thing about hair at the moment as I'm trying to grow mine into some kind of reasonable mess.)

I suppose it is one way of ignoring all the horrible things that are going on at the moment, a form of escapism.

Its Not Over 'Til Its Over

This week, in fact in the next couple of days if I want a chance of actually passing the course, I need to send in the final exam for my OU Advanced Creative Writing course. It feels strange that I am sorry it is over.

Not my studies that is, but this is the last of the "literature" part to my degree. I've made friends on this courses who I will stay in contact with I hope. So much has happened. During my first writing course my marriage ended, during this one my father died. Perhaps I should be thankful there isn't another one to take.

I am not, though, I liked the deadlines pushing me on. I have to admit that I didn't enjoy this course as much as the Level 2 writing course, but I did enjoy the script writing aspect and have chosen that as the medium for my parting shot. Unlike the previous workbook I didn't feel as inspired by the exercises in the Advanced Creative Writing one but that is not the point. I know what I've always wanted to do and never had the courage to actually take the plunge and go forth and actually *do*. I wonder if it is too late, I hate the nagging devil on the shoulder who still chides that this is not for people like me. If I have stories to tell then surely it is for my own satisfaction to tell them - have I really not shaken that self-doubt that plagues my every second? Well no, of course not. Otherwise I would feel that this was more the jumping-board into further opportunities than the door closing with a final slam.

"But they said I could!"

Now repeat the above in the whiniest voice possible and you too can be an MP my dear~

Having been somewhat in the red for the past few years (no he still hasn't stumped up properly, yes I'm still left paying for it all) I wonder if there is a possibility that for every bath plug and packet of sweeties I needed I could claim the money elsewhere. (Actually I have never needed to purchase a bath plug.)

You see while people are losing their jobs and homes and old folk are spending meager pensions on council tax there is one group who are doing very nicely thank-you-very-much. Those who smile and say "don't worry about it" for every rise in tax, who declare they understand the high cost of living have made sure that their nests are very comfortably feathered.

And what respect is left? Seriously, why should they get nearly all of the items they have claimed for? Certainly some are necessity, the office expenses etc. But it is about time that an outside source was made responsible for examining each and every stinky little receipt. And no, Mr. Speaker, your wife's taxis are not reasonable either.

Hats off to the people who made sure we knew just how corrupt our lovely government (and I mean every single MP of every single colour, who will defend their crime by saying that it was in the rule book as though that should absolve them of guilt.) This very government who chastise single parents for wanting to look after their children rather than take an underpaid job just to then pay most of it to the childminder. Who waffle on about a need for cut backs when there is a glaringly obvious enormous saving to be made here.

If you don't mind I won't be buying any papers over the next few days, I feel sick enough.

Pearls Before...

I am worried about whether or not I should be worried over the fact that the two people who are the first in the UK to catch the new trend in illnesses (that would be the swine flu for those visiting from Alpha Centauri) are from a small town far too close for comfort. A town where one of the Hobbit's friends stays as well.

But then I think that this is quite handy in terms of distracting everyone over the real pandemic (again, Alpha Centaurians, this would be the economic doodah, are you following?)

Conspiracy theories will no doubt flourish and spread as quick as the flu. There are so many people who die from the flu every year anyway, it is either going to get you or it isn't. I recall the avian flu that was going to wipe us out - are the 24 hour news channels so eager for something to fill the time with? I do have a slight issue over youngest Hobbit catching every cold which is going though. Who knows? Not us that is for sure. According to the *news* this flu can be beaten off with nothing more than soap and water and a skoosh of cleaner.

One Month Later

Or one month, three days to be exact. And how does it feel?

Honestly, I can't explain it, has it not sunk in properly, is this a stage in the grieving process? In another life during a brief and mistaken period of nurse training I studied Kübler-Ross, or rather I read a book or two and something stuck. In the far, dusty corners of my mind, the whole five stages of grief thing got clogged in amongst the trivia.

I haven't spent a lot of time thinking about it but I seem to have accepted things. Well, I've not had much time to dwell on my dad dying. There is still so much to do and I don't have the heart to do anything. This isn't because of his passing but more to do with the fact that I realise how reliant people are on me to do everything and in a moment of self-pity I wonder who I can rely on.

The photo was taken in the place we chose to put dad's ashes, a place he was fond of, where he visited so many times before. A place we can visit whenever we want. Because living people are selfish like that.

Happy Puppy Birthday

Pup is one year old today!

(Seen here with Anakin who loves him long time!)

The Return Of Normality (Or What Passes For Normality)

This has felt like the longest Easter holiday ever and although I enjoy our little days out and the entertainment that the Hobbits bring with them I am so glad Monday is back to school. Trying to get anything done while they are at home is impossible and I have oh so much to do. Such is life when so many people are relying on me.

Hopefully the fug will lift and I can get some kind of organisation going.
I'm still working my way through my father's papers and it stops me, every time I find a memento he has kept. A poem I wrote in Primary 4; a Christmas card I drew in 1980 (says so on the back in his hand writing); little notes he wrote; my Spelling and Dictation jotter from Primary 3; a photograph my mother took of me in very trendy 70s gear (hey I was three, give me a break.) I need to get things done, there are still assurance policies to find, but so far I have had no time to grieve. With each little piece I find, things he has kept neatly folded in amongst his papers, it brings back the feeling that I had things perhaps I should have said and didn't. But what is most important is that we knew how much we meant to each other.

Oh well this is turning morose for a Saturday evening. My life is so exciting, tv and 'puter - woohoo, don't hold me back.

Oh, I almost forgot

Hope you had a lovely day celebrating the chocolate egg laying rabbit. No wait. Um...the goddess of Spring (fertility) Eostre...no because that would admit that Easter actually follows the pagan idea of the full moon and all that...um...anyway...chocolate...yum, yum.

Remember, when listening to Pope Eggs Benedict preach about poverty that it could all be cured if he turned around, took a look inside the Vatican, and sold the riches they accumulated. I'm sure *that* wasn't quite what Jesus had in mind!

“‘Cause Jesus I do think did exist, and he was, I think, a guy who had interesting ideas in the Gandhi-type area, in the Nelson Mandela-type area, you know, relaxed and groovy; and the Romans thought, "Relaxed and groovy?! No, no, no, no, no!" So they murdered him. And kids eat chocolate eggs, because of the color of the chocolate, and the color of the... wood on the cross. Well, you tell me! It's got nothing to do with it, has it?” - Eddie Izzard, and I kind of agree with him there.

I better stop now, whenever I quote Eddie Izzard, especially this year of "Darwin" I think of the book he had Darwin write called 'Monkey, monkey, monkey, monkey, monkey, you.' Sorry, cracks me up every time I think about it. I lead a small life. Ah.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

There comes a point where I realise that the view the Hobbits have of the world is one I wish I saw. This morning, seemingly without reason, Eldest Hobbit decided to announce that as their Grandpa had been cremated that he *must* therefore be a Jedi! Because, after all, what happens to Jedi's once they die?

Yes, piped up Youngest Hobbit excited at the thought, and Grandpa fought bad people too!

And, adds Eldest Hobbit taking his idea further, he was flying about.

Okay, so my dad took part in a real war, without clones or furry Wookies to help and his planes were a little less brilliant than starfighters or tie-fighters. But the fact that the Hobbits have decided that this makes sense is so comforting. They might only have had seven years with him but they have decided between themselves, in those weird and long conversations they have in their room of a morning, that their Grandpa was definitely someone to look up to. And considering that they are short on the ground of decent male role models then those seven years count.

God's Way Of Eking Out The Stupid

Here is a lady who visited Berlin Zoo one day and thought to herself "You know those polar bears look lonely, I'll go join them." So in she jumped.

You'll never guess what happened next. It is a real shocker. An utter surprise.


I know, who could have possibly guessed the outcome.

The zookeepers rescued her while the polar bears looked on rather bemused. Oh sure, they had a little chew, what carnivorous beastie wouldn't? I suppose she wasn't quite to their taste though. No one knows why she did it but hazarding a guess at her being a little touch of crazy would perhaps not be too far off the mark.

The devil on my shoulder, the one who speaks the clearest sometimes, prompts me to add that truly, I'd have left her in there. Really. She chose to jump in, she also then chose to swim back to be rescued when she realised she wasn't about to star in the remake of The Golden Compass. Idiot.

Does it sound *like a whisper*?

reference

Is there such a thing as a professional revolutionary? Because every time these protests pop up the participants seem to be either all styled from the same place or they are the same people.

What would I know? If they feel so strongly about it, and lets face it the whole world is currently gubbed, then more power to them. I just wonder at them though, always looking for something to protest against - how do they support themselves? From the government they despise? The powers that be have never listened before and I doubt they ever will, especially now the gulf between *us* and *them* has never been greater.

Today I am feeling mostly "meh". And "meh" colours everything in bland.

'Bye Dad

I know now what it feels like to lose a parent.

My dad died at 6;50 pm after taking a turn for the worse. He went peacefully and sometimes you cannot ask for more than that. After weeks of illness, of careless falls in a ward where I wouldn't send my worst enemy, he ended up in a caring ward and that is how he left us.

And it feels...weird. Oh certainly the sadness is there, like a heavy blanket laying across me but to know that the person who has been there my whole life is gone feels just odd. There is no other way to put it. I have so many memories, the Hobbits have wonderful memories of their Grandpa.

Is The Trough Not Empty Yet?

While our esteemed Members of Parliament seem to be able to gleefully exploit their expenses (or should that be renamed the pot of gold and be done with it?) without a care, I wonder - these people are allowed tax money to buy a second home plus furnishings etc. etc.... when I'd just like enough to buy one small home for me and my boys. And I know everyone would feel similar, particularly those who are having their homes repossessed because they bought into the Noo Liebour lifestyle.

Ah but then, that would be seen as scrounging and that is much different - isn't it?

tinker tinker tinker

I hate shopping but it is time for a change of clothes. The colours suit me, non?

Hello Goodbye

Sadly this is not my swan song.

Do swan's sing? I have no idea. They do hiss, that is for sure.


What was my point in doing this? Oh yes, to wave goodbye to a week where, despite the sunshine and warm happy domestic glow I get from Spring aired laundry, I just couldn't shake a horrible fug I felt.

I don't know what it was, the current situations that are swarming around me perhaps. That would make sense. I suppose everyone feels a little lost now and again and it is hard sometimes to find a way back or even to remember the reason why you should.

Carry on like this and it will be a blog renamed for the sheer nonsense I spout.

Normal service will resume, no, I shouldn't say that as normal might be construed as meaning I won't bother to write and for my sake I really should...okay I promise myself that I will once again venture to begin writing some sense. Now where did I put it?

Its been a long time baby....

This year has, so far, been something made of chaos. I should really keep on track of things better but never mind. Days become weeks become months...wait, where is this going exactly? Jeez I'm full of nonsense sometimes - now actually.

To say my head has not been in the right place this year would be an understatement on the extremely massive scale. Needless to say the niggles in my life remain the same, in fact with an unbearable smugness that would drive a pacifist to violence they seem to be getting worse. At this fragment of time I couldn't care less. I have this whole situation with my dad still in hospital, coming this close to loosing him physically when mentally he has been gone from us for a while. It is amazing that, while I realise it would be a blessing for him I don't feel ready to say goodbye yet. Completely selfish and completely irrational.

The Hobbits remain a constant in my life, the anchor without who I would drift away. It may seem ridiculous to be so sentimental in this era of emotional detachment but I have long since stopped caring what others may think. Everything feels like a struggle, it is as though no one wants to do their job properly anymore. It takes less effort to do a job well but some take pride in being obstinately incompetent.

I ramble...it isn't contagious.

It Will Do That To You Sometimes

There are control freaks and then there are control freaks and sometimes for a quiet life you just do as they wish.

Apologies to those who have emailed about t'other blog. It would seem that a wish to vent my frustration rather than take it out on those I love has annoyed a certain person. Or perhaps it was the truth, which can be hard to handle sometimes. It is now by invite only so contact me if you wish to read on but as I hadn't updated it in ages anyway it all seems like a moot point. I will probably put it live again at some point.

Anything to create a drama though, eh?

Just now I'm preparing my mental boxing gloves as tomorrow I do battle with the authorities who seem to think it is alright to leave my father to rot in hospital. Okay, that is maybe a bit extreme but that is what it feels like. I have priorities, and right now the screaming hysterics of someone who doesn't take their own advice (I stay out of their business so should I expect them to stay out of mine?) are so low down the list.

Such a shame that two 7-year-old Hobbits, who have done nothing wrong are dragged into this once again. And isn't it interesting that they can't see what the fuss is all about either. Ah, my boys are smart little dudes. And their Beaver Lodge got second place in the Scouts Potted Sports event today. That was more important to them than anything. I wasn't daft enough to volunteer for that one thankfully!

Banging my head against a brick wall.

Obama-rama

I made the Hobbits watch the inauguration of the new president tonight. Well, when I say made, I didn't tie them down or anything, just asked them to sit with me while we watched history happening.

They were interested in the amount of people there, once they realised the size of the place. I doubt they would have heard much of Obama's speech but at least, when asked in the future, they can say where they were when Obama became President Obama.

It Is A Loooonnngggg Month

God is January not over yet? Maybe it is the rush and bustle of December that makes January feel as though it just keeps going. Maybe it is the latest bundle of challenges, this time my dad being in hospital - he has dementia, now it turns out, after 15 days in hospital, he has a jaw infection.

How do you get a jaw infection? I feel a Google moment coming on soon.

Our familiarity with hospitals is somewhat depressing. I was a nurse in the late 80s/early 90s and sadly things have not improved. I left because although I loved the work I utterly hated the ward politics. Like my inability to lie properly I also have an aversion to gossip. Unless I have first hand knowledge of something and feel it right that I speak with another person about it then it is none of my business. That doesn't go down well in some workplaces.

Strangely, in all the time I've been away, from what I've witnessed, the characters are still the same. And although pumps of green glop are thoughtfully provided so nasty visitors don't bring their germs into the wards it might help to actually clean under the beds once in a while.

On another note, the Hobbits went to Deep Sea World for their birthday way back at the end of December. After recovering from the price of admission it was actually well worth it. Plus the Hobbits loved it, especially getting to touch the rays and fish and seeing the sharks
.

Cloned Wars

Not in a galaxy far away unfortunately but in Indonesia where someone used my stolen bank card details to try and withdraw over 1 million whatever-the-currency-is-there from an ATM. When I heard this my heart nearly leapt out of my mouth in horror but it turns out that with the exchange rate that would be a less terrifying £80-something.

Ah, so that is why I couldn't use my card to pay bills online. That is why I spent the next day puzzling with the bank call centre staff who couldn't see there being any problem as I had the funds. That is why, on a bright, sunny and freezing Wednesday morning I got the letter that told me the fraud department of the bank wanted to speak to me urgently.

Oh hell.

Don't worry, they said, it wasn't personal - this concerned thousands of people who used their card at the Lizzie Bryce petrol station in Livingston. One of the attendants was part of a criminal gang, someone who I would have smiled at and thanked as I always do because I think they have a thankless task dealing with grumpy people all day. So this guy I thanked and was pleasant to, tried to rip me off. Regardless of how many people this touched (over 10,000 so far in my bank alone) it still left an icky feeling inside.

I had done everything right. The card was never even touched by him, he had some special thing inserted into the chip and pin device so no one would have realised what was going on. There are trust issues of course, but as I rarely use that place, and never will now, I feel...annoyed. I know I will take care over who serves me in future and that is a shame but even though it was a few days of problems I really don't want to experience that feeling again.

It does sometimes feel as though these criminal gangs can work without the stress of ever being caught. Oh certainly, this chump from the petrol station has been charged but he is just the mug who did the crime. How many people were behind him? What about the people who they sold all those details to for a more-than-likely hefty price?

And they see everyone in the West as a target, oh if only they knew.

Another End Of Year

For the first time in I don't know how long I expect to see in 2009 safely tucked up in bed.

The cold has gone, for the most part, but there doesn't seem to be a reason to stay up. Another Hogmanay spent alone and in front of the tv? Second year in a row, it is becoming a habit.

2008 was interesting, an improvement on 2007 which I realise now is a year that held more benefits than at first it seemed. Whatever 2009 brings I can ask for only one thing at the moment, that my father, who is in hospital at the moment, recovers. There are some things I do not wish to contemplate and one of them is what seems inevitable but no matter how much I wish it wasn't the truth I still cannot face it.

Come on 2009, lets see what you bring.

Sometimes I Amaze Myself

It doesn't often happen, and when it does it is usually by accident but sometimes I achieve something I thought impossible.

Be it having to grin and bear it while spending time with an ex who purposefully keeps me strapped for cash (for the sake of the Hobbits this was on Christmas morning, it doesn't last long as he is on a tight leash and for that I can be grateful.) Be it through passing an OU course I thought I had completely blown thanks to an exam where I was the first to leave.

Considering my brain is addled by the after effects of too much cold medicine and the Christmas hangover those are the only two examples I give at the moment simply because I am concerned with the latter.

Because I passed my history course. And I really didn't think I would. And I am very smugly pleased with myself. And it doesn't happen that often. And now I am repeating myself.

Anyhoo, the course is done, I do not need to resit. Checking the results page online I got an average score, very few people did any better than I did. So that horror of being the first to get up, hand my paper in and leave was not justified. Keep to the question. Worked.

I have been advised by a friend that what I should take is Vitamin C tablets, orange juice and Lucozade. She also mentioned rest despite the fact that, as a parent, she should know that is but a dream.

37 Plus One Day

I have a cold, the Hobbits have a cold. Only the four-legged ones and finned ones in this house are safe. Speaking of four-legged ones. In an attempt to give myself one more challenge we are joined by two kittens, Padme and Anakin - can you guess who named them?
Resident Grumpy Old Cat has taken to them relatively well. They can be his child warriors against the big, clumsy, lumbering oaf of a dog - I would imagine that is how Paris sees it. Poor Andrex sits quietly while they dance around him, all part of the training my dear.
Photos to fallow when normal service resumes and it isn't the medication doing the writing, regardless of what an improvement that may be.

Goodbye To A Hero

I don't use that title lightly. There are few people to which I would label as having a lasting effect on my own life but there is an agreement of millions of other people who were little children in 70s Britain so I feel it is only appropriate.

Oliver Postgate died.

And I realised what that meant to me personally, when I heard it on the radio this morning and was actually really upset at the thought. His voice is the one that soothed me throughout childhood; his tales of Noggin the Nog, The Clangers, Ivor The Engine and of course my own favourite Bagpuss. Because of him for years I thought that people in Wales rode in wonderful green trains that went tsshhtt-ko, tsshhtt-ko as they trundled along and there were singing dragons living in the mountain tops. The stories he told were, and there is no other word for it, gentle, proper stories. Not the frantic dash and splash of the short-attention span kids tv now. This was tv to calm you down, ready for dinner and then bed. Like a comforting blanket on a cold day. Even now I hear the opening chords of Bagpuss and it is complete contentment.

I introduced his programmes to the Hobbits a few years ago and they laughed at the Soup Dragon dancing on The Clangers which turned out to be their favourite. Noggin was, and is, perhaps a little too dark of a saga for some but perfect for that even if Nogbad was a bit scary.

Perhaps Mr. Postgate will forever be in that top left-hand corner of Wales.

Bagpuss, dear Bagpuss,

Old fat furry cat-puss,

Wake up, and look at this thing that I bring,

Wake up, be bright, be golden and light,

Bagpuss, oh hear what I sing.

The Future

The 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month

Thank you.

Once In A Lifetime...

There should perhaps be a question mark after that title. During their few short years in this world there have been many defining moments that the Hobbits can look back on as being historical events they lived through.
It has been a while, I haven't blogged for a while, I haven't done much to be honest. I am coasting at this time but this must be like when JFK became president. And again, when Labour had the landslide victory in 1997. Only this won't turn out to be as soul-crushingly disappointing as what Blair became.
Bush has been a dark time, I still find it ridiculous that he was voted in...twice! Obama has a very steep hill to climb, he at least acknowledges that. Already he has done so much to repair the damage caused by Bush.
Watch the news reports, there is a tingling along the spine, goose-pimples.
The Hobbits live in such interesting times and things have just gotten a little better, it doesn't look so God-awful bleak.
(I do feel a little sorry for McCain though, I think he was aware at what kind of people were supporting him and he should really have gotten the post in 2000. I guess his daddy just couldn't buy him the presidency like Bush's did.)

Crazy With A Cherry On Top

Hazelnuttin sent me this story, strangely from a Welsh news website, although the story originates in California and she lives in Chicago. The world goes like that sometimes.

It has to be this sentence that really gets me though...

"The farmworkers told police the suspect woke them on Saturday morning by rubbing spices on one of them and smacking the other with an eight-inch sausage."

Okay that has to be one of the most bizarre paragraphs in a news story ever. Never mind the sausage, he rubbed spices on them? Who would think to do that? What spices did he use? Totally off the wall! (Bet they were relieved though when they discovered it was a sausage he had hit them with and not something else.)

Summer Is Officially Over

The Hobbits have been back at school a couple of weeks now and today, officially, summer is over.

The question is though...when did the summer actually happen. I feel I may have missed it at some point, it sneaked it, shone happy rays of sunshine for a few hours and then skipped away before I noticed.

Meeja says that this has been the dullest, wettest August since before we can remember.

I says; you are not kidding there mate.

The Power Of The Book

No, not "The" Book, I haven't found religion, or anything else for that matter.

I just find myself pondering the power over imagination that books can hold.

Case in point, and the reason I am pondering at near midnight on a Monday night...

The story we are reading at the moment is The BFG by Roald Dahl. While the Hobbits enjoyed the reading of it at the time the fact that both of them were downstairs at 11 p.m. very frightened because "there is a hand and three shadows that are going dut-dut-dut" I may decide to change the book rather than continue tomorrow night. I forgot what it was like to read a story and need to spend the night with the light on for fear of what might happen - and this from someone who spent her early teens reading all the truly *scary* Stephen King novels.

I am glad that the Hobbits have my love for reading, now they are able to sit and follow a story themselves it is fun to see them in intense concentration over their little library. Okay so most of what they read is scientific - space, the universe, Earth and the delightful subject of natural disasters. The stories they prefer to be read to them.

A job I am glad to perform, funny voices included.

I realise this post is of the "I got up and had breakfast" type that blogs are ridiculed for. Ach well, it is late and I could care less. The star lights are on, the Hobbits are sharing a bed - the furthest from the imagined "hand." Funny there is no side-effect to Doctor Who (and wasn't that ending disappointing - how much did the writer hate Donna to do that to her!), not even Blink which I admit to being a little startled by - or Primeval. Yet the idea of giants visiting certain countries because the "human beans" taste better there...

(Now see what a kind person I truly am. I could have put the Blink image on this page rather than as a link...and we would all have had the star-lights on tonight as a result.)

Cuteness Factor Reading 100%

Normally I am not sentimental, however on receiving our Guide Dog puppy, who will live with us for his first year before going off to what the Hobbits refer to as "dog school" to learn his job, I have to say...awwww.

Today I Will Be Mostly Feeling....

....meh.

Drum Fingers On Table

Things roll on.

Life becomes more expensive.

Laughter takes on a maniacal edge (is that a word - it is now.)

It does sometime feel like teetering on the edge of the precipice.

On the plus side though, I got a free book. Sent to me. For once I felt...important. Well...sort of...a little bit. Its a free book, gotten by sharing a story about an incident in Italy on our honeymoon *cough*, went the way of the marriage really.

Irony Let Me Show You It

***Time to pick up a stick and poke it through the railings at the freaks again. Big Brother started this week. I won't watch and it will be a better life for it. That sound you hear is Orwell crying somewhere.***

Meet the Dobbys

I'm presuming that is how you spell it - rhymes with a Scottish word for poo, so that is my best guess as how you would write it down. Six-year-olds are not very forthcoming with details of the mundane type.

Anyhoo, I had always thought that the language-inventing was a multiples thing until I had a bizarre conversation with one of Youngest Hobbit's classmates today.

Seems he has introduced my boys to his world where everyone is classed as Dobbys, but only if you are good and a friend of ETs, well a friend today at least. So Eldest Hobbit is in Dobby world a 9-year-old Dobby, but in Dobby language that is said as nine hundred and ninety-nine.

"Aha," says me acting like I have a clue, "So then if you were a 7-year-old Dobby you would say seven hundred and seventy-seven."

"No," says ET looking at me as though I am some kind of idiot just arrived today, "it would be four hundred and eighty-two."

Okay then.

His grandmother explained that this is something ET and his older brother had made up, including a Dobby language. The Hobbits went through a year of speech therapy to encourage them to communicate with other people, and to speak English; their idea of communication was to teach their friends their language when they first went to pre-school nursery.

I have a list of their words, for when they are older, see if they remember any of it. (one of my favourites was when they were about 18 months old they would call dogs "puppy gone big." They could say dog alright but no, it had to be puppy gone big.)

Now where did I put that nosgabby, oh right, it is over by the gabbygab.

Doodle-Do

Hazelnuttin, Our Girl In Chicago, sent me a link to this eBay auction.

Not only a psychologist's wet dream (think of the meaning behind all of those doodles!) but an interesting insight into some Famous People's mindsets and artistic talents. All while earning dosh for charity. A good idea and I would love to see what some Famous People here would come up with - do you go for an actual doodle or try and impress or perhaps a mixture of the two?

It being an American auction there are quite a few names I don't recognise but some I do and it is amusing to see who is earning the greater amount, is that to do with fanbase or wanting the artwork itself?

I'm also glad to see that I am not the only person whose doodles become pictures, although being a humble civilian my doodles are not worthy of auctioning.

Pinkie Promise

So I've broken the pinkie on my right hand. In an accident involving a lightswitch (yes, really) there was a meeting of bone against corner and a rather sweet little snappy sound.

I then spent a good while swearing every word I know while Hobbits stared wide-eyed, for once bad language was not pointed out. I think they could see this was not the time. As though they don't hate me enough I am now sure the neighbours will think me completely mad.

Now I know it is broken yet I haven't gone to hospital. Most people would scoff and say how could I, a mere mortal, know that it is broken for definite and why wouldn't I go to hospital. There are reasons, I do have them.

A while back I broke the ring finger of my left hand, so badly it had swollen before I could get my wedding ring off. In an act I now see as prophecy of some kind the hospital had to cut the ring off, which was more painful than the actual break itself and which left my finger with burn marks. Even worse was, as they were cutting the ring off they had to pull at the broken finger. I didn't pass out but it was a near thing.

So I know what a broken finger looks like, I know what it feels like and I know how the hospital treat it. For my ring finger I had tape, yes plain old strapping tape, holding broken finger to the finger next to it. No splint or anything. Rather than go to hospital this time, wait around for about 3 hours to hear what I already know and all for a piece of tape, I just went to the local chemist. One roll of tape later and it is sorted (not the whole roll at once you understand, I need the rest to change it once it gets manky.)

Still hurts now and again but the swelling is down and the colour is back to a sort of normal shade, it is interesting that although probably considered an insignificant digit, having the pinkie strapped defenseless against another finger proves its worth.

You've got to laugh.

Single Mum On Benefits

A title like that would have certain parts of the press foaming rabidly at the mouth in delighted rage. A title that sweeps a large section of society together so the rest of the people can form an orderly line to stick the boot in too.

I'm not going to provide a link to the odious article, 'tis what Google was made for. I would love to know who it is that they use as the guideline to judge the rest of us though because she must be really well off.

The majority of single mums, sorry I am going to say single parents as it isn't just the mums y'know, are not simply sitting back and racking in a fortune in benefits. Most of us have never been on benefits before and are using them in the way the are supposed to be used. As a step up, as a helping hand during bad times. Not as a career choice. Not to wickedly take money from tax-payers.

Certainly there is a minority, the kind of people who have parents and grandparents on benefits, who have children outwith a stable relationship and who have no intention of changing the status quo. They are indeed a minority, though the lazy journos who like to write sensationalist bullying stories wouldn't care to point that out.

Instead we are all thrown together. In one big heap. Signed off as useless.

Single parents, of the type I refer to - on benefits now but not forever - are dealing with a lot more than the meeja care to understand. We deal with the effects of broken relationships, we try and steer our children through the mess, we cope with feelings of failure at not making a marriage on long-term relationship work and yes, we feel guilt and humiliation at having to ask the state for help. If they think it is easy they should attempt to comfort a 6-year-old child, or two, crying at night or asking for a new daddy in a way that would break a heart of stone. And during all this we have to read pathetic headlines that the big bad single parents are so much better off than the nice working families.

Guess what, I know plenty of families on benefits. Plenty of two parent families where at least one parent could work. Funny how you never hear of them. Or of the large amount of 18-25 year olds who leave school and can't see the point of getting a job which I think is a scarier and more interesting prospect for a story. I suppose though, it is better to wait until one of that group pops out a baby and joins the already formed pariahs of society.

Easy targets. We have them.

Today I...

...surprised someone.

Someone who only knows me from the past few years. Therefore only knows the watered down, diluted version.

The phone rang during a conversation. Wrong number. I told friend that when I was younger I used to get fed up with wrong numbers, if the person was stupid enough to be unable to dial correctly then it wasn't my problem to deal with. I took take-out orders, taxi requests, told people that the person they were looking for didn't live there anymore.

I was evil. I was a teenager at the time though but that isn't an excuse and nor would I offer one. Tolerance levels were...actually they are pretty much what they are now.

Wicked TIBS, says friend with what I hope is admiration that I am not what everyone thinks I am.

I aspire to Nigella, I am in reality closer to Lucille Ball.

This Time Ten Years Ago

It was at this time, ten long years ago, that I blissfully ignored warnings from friends long since departed (from communication with me that is, not the world as a whole, they didn't die or anything...I digress.) In 24 days I would become a Mrs. still unaware that I was marrying on a lie manipulated from what I possibly wanted to hear.

How do you undo ten years worth of damage?

The divorce trundles on with amazing slowness. The sun shines and the Hobbits are getting used to that unusual glowing orb in the cloudless sky. I don't have much of a life but I am getting on with it.

And sometimes, just sometimes, I want to don a kilt, paint my face blue and run around the nearest glen screaming "freedom" at bemused tourists.

But I don't.

Because that would be stupid. And at the moment I have reached my quota for stupid, in fact I think I am also using someone elses.

(And bliss, someone thinks what I write is good. Not this, no, other stuff. Stuff that gets marked and I even got a smiley face on the last one, not this rambling nonsense. Is this how confidence is built? Inch by inch?)

Tomorrow the Hobbits return to school after the bank holiday and today's inservice day. I had inservice days when I was at school, I don't know what they are, not then and not now and perhaps one day I'll be interested enough to find out.