Under The Bridge

Forth Bridge

There live no trolls under this bridge, well, not on the Lothian side at least. This was taken back in the day when Scotland had a ferry service to Europe, long for those days to come back. Also far enough ago that the bridge was still in it's 'forever painting' phase.

Now they have some magical paint that doesn't need continually refreshed so the bridge is scaffold free.

Progress.

Again, I wish we had a ferry link to Europe, it's ridiculous we don't but that's what you get as part of this union. We get to drive to Newcastle or Hull, our only other option is the plane. We were also promised quick links to the Eurotunnel that never appeared either. Ah well. We still got to pay for it though and that's always good. ::sarcasm button deployed::

I hear it said that the ferry wasn't used, which doesn't make sense as when we tried to rebook (Rosyth - Zeebrugge) it was always full. Sure, it would need subsidised, most ferries do. Despite my fear of boats (thanks Titanic) I quite liked the over night journey. Outside cabin of course - like, I could have gotten out of that window if anything happened? You just watch me and I would have made sure my then four-year-old sons were with me!

I wonder if it has to take independence for us to be fully integrated with the rest of Europe, to have proper transport links. Naturally I want independence anyway but it's evident how much we've been held back, how many believe we don't 'deserve' to be a fully-fledged country. It's really quite a sad indictment of Scotland.

Well, this post took a dark step, you never can tell where the photographs will take you.

In A Timely Manner

For some reason I convinced myself I had posted on Thursday and Friday. I must be going mad - at last! Maybe that will allow me some rest. The other day I needed to rest, I didn't, today I paid the price. Eyeballs like peeled onions, you get the gist.

Today's pic, taken at the local forest in Beecraigs Country Park. Mostly Forestry Commission trees (all in straight lines and at the mercy of being felled all at once, making the place look like a bomb hit it) but there are beauties like this dotted around, snubbing a branch at the Forestry's tidiness. Of course they are felled too as nature isn't as neat as they'd like but until then, here it lives.

There Comes A Choice

I might have a meeting I need to go to tomorrow evening but until then I will be mainly doing not much but sleeping, painting and watching TV. It sounds like the laziest of days but this is how I recharge the battery, or recharge as much as I can. Or really, just prevent a crash and who wouldn't take a day to avoid crunchy, gnawing, grinding pain.

Simple, really.

Today's photo - be the seagull.

Seagull versus statue
Calderglen Park, East Kilbride

Tired

Nothing new there then, but I have to get up early tomorrow and I'm moving dangerously close to a crash. Still, the boys are away to another camp this Friday so if I can make it to the weekend I can let it go then. I can push through the pain and the tiredness for a couple of days, it's not pleasant but what can you do?

It's been a very grey and rainy week, naturally that doesn't help. Wishing for a long, sunny summer - just once, that would be nice!

I should rename this venture, 30 Days (Plus) of Photos and a Bit of Moaning Too. Touch long for a label though.

North Berwick, East Lothian

So...Yesterday

I ended up feeling (and probably looking) like an incompetent idiot thanks to an antiquated email system which formatted a mail out I sent in such a way that it resembled something done by a toddler.
Badly wanted to stick my head in a blender after hearing about the Panama papers. Oh, here we go again and as is per usual in the UK, nothing will happen other than a bit of tutting.

Google it, you'll not get to hear much about those in the British Establishment who are involved. Of course not. My next self-employed tax return will be filled out through gritted teeth.

And calm. Go for a walk with Happy dog, and calm. (Not like this, it's raining today, of course it is. An Eeyore day if ever there was one.)

Describe Motherhood

Two for the price of one - it is Saturday after all. Apologies on the portrait quality, photos taken at Kelvingrove Museum, Glasgow. One of the most wonderful places on Earth. I need to go back, and soon.

'Sup

I Don't Mean To Judge But...

Ah, who am I kidding, I judge, I judge all the time. If people were being honest we all do and if someone says they don't then they've just passed judgement on those who freely admit to judging.

Here are two little gems I mulled over while standing in line at the local Sainsbury's -

Wine; there is a layer of pretentiousness, even in the sweetest person.

A certain brand of cider or maybe just cider full stop; you want to get drunk, as effortlessly as possible and don't mind furry tongue in the morning.

Oh-ho! I hear the holier-than-thou folk cry, and what was it you were buying?

Cat food and diet cola (own brand), because the cats need fed and my insides are heaving cauldrons of rotten (but own brand doesn't have aspartame so I pretend otherwise).

Look For The...

I make no apologies for that title and no apologies if no one gets it.

Add caption

A Sunset To Warm The Very Bones

It doesn't matter how much I wish for it to happen, lack of funds mean I won't be seeing this for a while.

*sigh*
*sigh deeply*
*trudge forever onwards*

Everyone needs a pick-me-up.

Flicking Through The Photo Album

There is a lot of talk about the fact no one really prints their photos any more as though it is a dying art and another tradition consigned to the "death by new media" heap.  I'm not sure, I have a box, I have several boxes if truth be told, of old photographs I rarely look through. Spending an evening looking through the photo albums I've accumulated over the past few years is an evening well spent.

A few years ago, when I first caught up with technology and bought a digital camera I actually thought, in a woolly minded daydream, that I could take up photography as a hobby, perhaps even make some sort of artistic venture out of it. I'm not that good unfortunately, so it remains just a passing hobby and source material for my scribblings.

This is going somewhere, I promise, over the next month and a bit I'll post a photo each day.

Today it's a sculpture on the wall of our hotel in Mallorca, I look at holiday photos and instantly feel warm and happy.  Then sad that I'm not there and can't afford a holiday this year! (pout) By the way the "pmr" is my watermark, nothing to do with the hotel! That probably sounds quite conceited, that I'd stick a watermark on but regardless of talent and lack thereof I've seen quite a few stolen images of late and am fed up of giving away things for free.

So...Whatcha Been Up To?

Sons used to watch a tv programme when they were younger where one of the characters would always say "Whatcha doin'?" I needn't have bothered explaining that but I did.

Spring has Sprung...today!  There are changes happening. Some doors are closing, others hopefully opening and others I'm not sure of yet.

Through it all I still scribble away and one day I might get good at it but until then (although I am pleased with the eagle). Examples of (yeah, I can't do dark and brooding clouds, who'da thunk):

Taking A Breather

I'm a little tired of the whole social media rigmarole of late - I love the fast information exchange but humanity and lack of it keeps getting in the way.

So last night I decided to dig out some old DVDs and have a movie night while my sons remain locked in video game purgatory.

I chose -

Quickly followed by -

God but I forgot how good they were. It's probably considered poncy to love world cinema but this is how I feel about that -

And that's all there is to say about it except to wonder what I'll watch tonight? Three Colours Blue? Red? Amelie? Or go for the Russian vampire films?

Ho ho, What's This?

*Old me sneaks in, looks around, checks last post, shakes head*

Down, down, down-de-down (bad Bugsy Malone joke, I don't ask for forgiveness) but most definitely not out.

I trudge along and this time I remember to pay attention to the flowers that grow in the cracks because they will always find a way to break through the concrete.

It's Not Getting Any Better

I know there are good people out there, people not filled with spite and deceit.

Lately it feels like it's impossible to find them amongst the deluge of pure nastiness that emanates from what seems like the majority. I have lost my faith in humanity, I am swamped by disillusionment. There are reasons for this black mood, the reasons that are pretty much the same as always, circling around the plughole without ever clearing.  It's not a nice world out there, even less so when you have no one on your side because some days it would be a relief to have someone there to fight your corner.

I struggle to put a light on the situation, to joke, as I used to, that I'm just having a gripe and moan and it'll be all okay really, really soon.  My internal optimist, I fear. has finally died.

My Brain With ME

It's not an egg.

It's not even scrambled egg.

Oh, that made me hungry now.

Instead, this photo perfectly captures my brain with ME:

Storm Henry - Just How Many More Letters Are We Going To Go Through

Once again a journey outside may end up with you being blown all the way to Norway.  It now seems relentless and although the skies are intermittently blue, the gale force wind means we can only gaze at them from the comfort of behind the double-glazing.

Storm Gertrude gave us a thump on Friday, Henry today - I am mindful that we are not yet halfway through the alphabet and while I'm sure the intention was not to utilise every single letter, it doesn't bode well.

Poor dog ventured into the garden, the wind not-so-gently ruffled his ears and now he looks at, or rather ignores, the offered lead like this -

"You saw what happened to my ears just then, right?"

So that'll be no walk today then pup?

The neighbours have the lovely task of clearing out their house today - or rather everything that was damaged when their boiler burst on Saturday night. I don't think I have ever seen quite so much water pour through someone's ceiling.  They asked for help in locating the stopcock, useless as it turns out theirs wasn't where mine is. Interestingly as they were calling their insurance company 24hr emergency hotline, with no electricity, snow outside, kids wrapped up on the sofa and Niagara Falls in the hallway, it turned out that 24 hours call out means 9 am the next day. Guess what the first thing I checked was on returning home.

The fire brigade were able to help, after no other plumber wanted to come, unfortunately it meant their kitchen was ripped up in the process.  Hats off to the guys as within minutes they had the water stopped and the flood drained.

The saying it never rains but it pours has never been more appropriate!

Keeping in mind that today is Imbolc - if you were in the pagan habit of leaving a white cloth out for the goddess Brigid then good luck finding that this morning.

D'you hear that Henry, it's Brigid's day so bugger off and take whatever storms are coming next, with you!

When Scots Words Suit

There is only one way I can describe how this weekend has left me feeling -

Scunnered.

Watching the hypocrisy unfold on Twitter as once again the side, who think they are always right, mock and sneer in all their pomposity. Threatening with lawyers to bluster their way out of revealing they are little more than high school bullies and all excused as just 'hilarious' banter when they would be up in arms if  their opponents did the same.  Given a journalist with any mettle and a 'great' and 'wonderful' author would find their carefully manipulated reputation in tatters.

It's disheartening that the whole debate has been lowered to this level, where one scoffs at another, believes they are superior enough and unfortunately gets away with it.  

As if that wasn't bad enough, trying to get some people interested has been the most frustrating thing I've encountered since becoming more 'politically aware'.  Knowing there are people out there yet always being left to do everything, the expectation is sometimes overwhelming. I want to moan that I'm doing this with ME, I can't carry everyone, I'd love for more people to put their hands up and share a little.  The apathy is killing me.

It might sound a little vague, I'm worn out thinking about it all. I have lots I need to do tomorrow and empty batteries with which to try and do it.  

I'm just....completely scunnered....

via Atypically Relevant

And Another Thing

I named this blog in an attempt to remind myself that no matter how bad things sometimes get that it won't last forever and I should really concentrate on the bright things. (Of course reading this, maybe I've not been listening to my own advice).

However, considering that it has been raining nearly non stop since November it does feel like the weather is trolling me.

Productivity needs a kick up the backside, I need to get something done, dull grey skies be damned!

The photo that inspired 'It's Not Always Raining' - when little dudes were stuck inside we'd find something fun to do instead.  We didn't let the rain ruin our day - time to relearn that lesson. (Last note: I'd love to go back and give those lovely boys a huge cuddle! Teens have a tendency to greet a mum cuddle with rolled eyes and 'oh, mum'. I have entered embarrassing mum territory.)

Hibernation - Phase Two

It is very much like that just now - if there was an opportunity to tuck myself in bed and emerge some time in late February then I'd jump at the chance.

Once again everything is all swirling round and I need a moment to recalibrate - unfortunately those moments are spent sleeping like a lazy cat "juggling cats(are there any other kind) rather than catching up. 

For matters of humorous illustration I Googled "juggling cats" - I was not disappointed.

Celebrity Death Year - 2016 Edition

No kidding, this isn't funny any more.

This year is only 14 days old and not only have we been shocked and surprised by the loss of a musical great (two for those who love Motorhead's lead singer, Lemmy - apart from 'Ace of Spades' I'm kind of meh about that one) but today I go online and see this:

I mean really 2016, who is next? It's like all bets are off and we should maybe hide David Attenborough until this year is over, although it seems age is not a factor but that big old c*** cancer who steals all the best people too early.

Is this that Rapture that the religious folk were waiting for a few years back?  Only instead of some self-righteous pious types it's these cultural icons - and I don't use that term loosely, I mean Bowie was a musical inspiration for generations and Alan Rickman an actor who could make you believe anything. I now hear that he was with his other half for 50 years and that says everything you would need to know about his true character and not the ones he played.

When 'Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves' was released (1991) I went along to see it with friends in a lovely, little cinema off Byres Road, Glasgow. Watching the film I couldn't help but think the 'evil' Sheriff was a lot more interesting than the wet, American drawling Robin Hood.

But I think this makes the perfect epitaph because it made a secret girly crush completely justifiable. 

Why So Many People Are Sad Today

David Bowie talks about performing 'Heroes' in Berlin, 1987

Caitlin Moran wrote this as part of her '10 Things Every Girl Should Know' but it seems apt for everyone.

"Look up here, I'm in heaven. I've got scars that can't be seen. I've got drama, can't be stolen, Everybody knows me now. Oh I'll be free. Just like that bluebird. Oh I'll be free. Ain't that just like me." - David Bowie, Lazarus

 When this video came out, I was still in Primary school and it seemed so exotic to us, almost a mini film when music videos were still a fairly rare occurrence.  Whenever it was on Top of the Pops was such a thrill. His later music might have spoken to our souls, encapsulated our feelings, dream, desires and fears but this was the first for me and will forever be how I remember him.

Sometimes It's Hard To Be A Woman

How's Your Day Been?

Me: Twin Teens back at school, lots to do, let's make some plans and get it all done!
ME:  Haha, you think so?  You forgot about me -

<packs brain away, replaces with cotton wool>

<sprinkles a dull ache all over body>

<a dash of jelly muscles, ah to hell with it, make it a double dash with some burny burn thrown in for free>

<turns dial up to 'Superdooper Tired With Extra Exhaustion'>

ME: Ah-mwahahahahahaha
Me: Curse you and your inevitable betrayal!

(Yes, I know that's not quite the right quote but there is nothing sudden but everything inevitable about living with ME.)

I Suppose I'd Better

Twin Teens are back to school tomorrow so I really should be getting my head back in gear.  I can almost feel the ME waiting for me to pause so it can pounce and lay me low for a while but finances being as drastic as they are I simply can't.

Me

and ME.  Hearing the nonsense that gets funding (and I won't give the most recent pompous example publicity here) then I'd possibly be in with a chance.  Although not being friends with the right people, middle-class or originally from/based in London mibbes no.  Who can tell how these folk get such things.>

Right now I'm simply trying to emerge into thinking territory, it's working out kind of like this - 

Teenage Kicks

I feel I should begin to make some altar or shrine in front of "Mountain Hare of January" in order that I don't feel quite so ridiculous admiring it every day. Then someone, in a rather good Facebook group I'm part of, posts an actual, real life video of a real life mountain hare, in all his (or her) real life twitchy nose glory. Maybe I need to add a rabbit to the menagerie but I think with dog, cats and gecko it might be overkill.

Two days until the Twin Teens go back to school. I've decided that's their new moniker, no one was getting the 1 of 2/ 2 of 2 reference and individually they'll still be Eldest and Youngest (separated by a whole minute of doctor fishing around in the womb to pull the other out).

I miss the days of Hobbits though, small, cute and with large (if not hairy) feet. The fact they now take a larger shoe size at age 14 than my 5'10" dad did as an adult shows that latter distinctive feature is, as my mother would have said, showing they "have a good grip of Scotland".

Now we've entered a new phase.

Fourteen seems a huge jump from thirteen where I could still imagine them as my little men. I now have conversations in grunts or revolving around computer games I have no knowledge of (managed to impress Eldest and his friends by my "skills" as a sniper in a Star Wars PC game - this is what it has come to!)  I don't really mind it to be honest, I have that guilty mum itch that they've spent too long on said computer games during this Christmas holiday although considering it's been blowing a hoolie outside the entire time I'll allow it.

I can't really throw them out to play with - sorry - hang out with friends in case one of them ends up being carried away to Norway in the wind.

Eldest, in particular, has morphed into The Boy Who Only Leaves His Room For Food.  Yet as his best friend moved down to Liverpool a while back, and he enjoys linking up with him online to play games and chat, I can't complain. Actually, I quite like some of the games he plays, all this city building and stuff, not Minecraft, that's "for babies" (they still play it - presumably sarcastically.) He was asking how they navigated the sea in medieval times on one of his trips to the kitchen.

I sometime think how lovely it would have been to have another baby. I think I regret not having another yet what I really regret is that I have no way to travel back in time and enjoy some of our days, when they were tiny. I'm glad no one can take that experience away from me, I'm glad I stayed at home with them but I just wish for another day.

Hobbits: Jaysus mother would you grab some make-up or something,
you look like the living dead. Anyone would think you hadn't slept -
Me: -------

Small Things

Make this bunny extremely happy.  So, being the fusspot that I am, it takes me ages to find a calendar and diary for the upcoming year.  (Yes, old fashioned me still likes to have a diary as well as the electronic helpers on my mobile phone to keep me on target). 

I never usually am 100% satisfied with what I end up with but this year, at the very last minute, I have this joy to look at. An entire calendar of Scottish wildlife starting with this cheery chap - I love sketching hares, have never seen one in real life. Or I don't think I have, plenty of rabbits but they dash away so quickly perhaps I have mistaken one for the other.  I certainly haven't seen a mountain one in it's winter finery.

Mr January - the Mountain hare

Every time I walk into the kitchen there he is, and it makes me happier than a photo on a stupid calendar should.  So there we have the small things and I'm at the point now where I don't care if it makes me sound daft or whatever, if it makes me smile, it's worth it.

For my own pleasure I'll be sharing each month on here, although once the year is finished I feel the images will be going straight in my sketching scrapbook for future reference.

True This

Meryl Streep, telling it like it is - should realise this truth earlier and save lots of time.

Maybe this should be my mantra for 2016 because, with just over an hour to go, I'm feeling distinctly meh about the whole New Year thing.  I'm thinking Hogmanay is for the young (who can go out on the randan with friends) or for those with big family or friendly neighbours who can fill the house with the party spirit.  It doesn't happen much now but there isn't much point sitting by yourself waiting on the bells when nothing really changes, it's just another day tomorrow.

Like I said, feeling meh.

I'm waiting for a good year, I've been waiting an awfully long time and no matter how hard I work at it I never quite seem to have a satisfactory sigh in my heart at this point of the year.  

The end of this year has been plagued with illnesses and I simply can't concentrate for more than five minutes on anything.  I shall remedy it, there is only me who can do this. 

2016 can be the year of acceptance...

meh

The Day We Should All Switch Off

And here's me on the computer - larks.  I watched a tv programme that was literally two hours of a pair of Sami women walking in the snow, with reindeer and sleighs, travelling through the forest and I could think of nothing better than living that life.  I know, I think my brain has finally given up the ghost completely.

After the chaos over the past few months with illnesses, my pattern of being slightly (ahem) disorganised on the run up to the event that happens on the same day every single year, I mean it's not like Easter, tied to the pagan full moon.  Except this year it is.  Hold on, I've lost my train of thought (full speed, out of control and running out of tracks).

All in all I pared back, and it worked. To a point.  I wish I could have afforded more but at the same time my sons didn't want more.  Blessed to have raised non avaricious boys, they're happy with what they want and at least I managed to provide that (and a birthday on Tuesday, again, it's not like it arrives as a surprise).  I feel bad they only have me, no extended family bustling around a full table - then again we could have an extended family that's like my mum's family and that would not bring feelings of peace and goodwill at all.

And I dressed up the dog because he's very patient.  Chew sticks were involved.

I'm feeling very addled at the moment, I think that is clear. As though I've come to accept how circumstances are, but I'd like them to be better so this acceptance thing is a non-starter. It's only a week left of 2015 but I'm trying my best to make and keep at least one promise, that we can afford a holiday this year because the lack of break is obviously sending me dolally.  That probably sounds poncy (poncey?) and in danger of being middle-class "first world probems" but with everything that is happening, everything that has happened and general lack of luck - surely I can try for a week in the sun not having to cook or clean?

Perhaps my next post will be less erratic. Who knows? Who cares?

(I'm going to use this space to crow about the face that I was *right* about the Christmas Doctor Who episode with River Song - I knew it would lead back to the library, does it matter, to me it does!)

An "Alternative" To The Old Christmas Tree

Sure, but no, they've not even used coloured chalk or anything -

This Is 44

Strange that it feels like a milestone when it is not really a noted birthday.  It does feel like one part of my life is closing, that where I make a family, raise children - I have my family, not exactly as I imagined being that it's just my boys and me.  The best laid plans and all that.  This must be how it's meant to be and I have to accept (although it's hard) that there will be no more babies.  It's strange that would affect me so much but it does.

So for my birthday off we went to Edinburgh - the school term finished absurdly early, I was expecting them to still be there until at least Wednesday.  Who makes up these holiday schedules?

After a lovely wander around the Portrait Gallery I was really disappointed that all the 'modern' paintings - of Alan Cummings, Ian Rankin etc. were stuck in the cafe so inaccessible.  Unless you want to wander up to the posh mummies and well-to-do pensioners sipping their lattes and stand over them as you try and appreciate the work.  Hmmn, don't know who thought that out but perhaps they were once responsible for the school timetables.

There was a giant painting of Muriel Grey which, as far as I'm concerned, could remain there but I'd have liked to been able to see the other paintings.  The only one we did manage to get a proper look at was the portrait of Alex Salmond, I think I prefer the one of Nicola Sturgeon though - I think that must be in Bute House?  I know the painting of Salmond is second on that link and Sturgeon's is eighth but the other work is so good it's worth a browse to get there.  For the life of me I cannot do portraits at all, to the point I avoid all humans in my artwork! (Also I came across a TV news piece on Nicola Sturgeon's portrait, it was unveiled along with one of Elaine C. Smith - seventh on the link - and Denise Mina - second last - only Elaine and Nicola were interviewed. Having seen Mina interviewed before I can only imagine she was a nippy sweetie over sharing space with two pro-independence women!)

The Portrait Gallery is a beautiful building and I love the gallery of stars although I couldn't get a decent pic of it as it was low lighting and judging by their official photo it's something that needs to be admired in real life.  At the moment there are some really good displays - not only was the 'Women of Nineteenth Century Scotland' inspiring, it was amazing to see how many women were included in 'Remembering the Great War'. I had forgotten my notebook, frustrating as there were so many names I wanted to take note of for further research.

So out of the gallery and off to the Christmas market which gets progressively more expensive every year, £7.50 for a quick birl on the rides is extortionate for most families, the food is over-priced for what it is which makes for a disappointing time if you've not a lot of spare money.

I dragged the boys all the way down to Holyrood looking for a jewellery shop that ended up being right at the top of the street where we began but it was a lovely walk, spending time with my sons, talking about everything.  None of us minded the trek at all and it meant Youngest could go to his favourite shop - Forbidden Planet. I desperately need some stocking fillers, they were ordered to find some things they'd like but couldn't.  Argh!  I'm running out of time!

Home to a Chinese take-away and hired Jurassic World to watch. I actually managed to pace myself so well that today hasn't been too bad on the pain scale and it seems to be mostly in the feet and ankles which is not as awful as the neck pain when it comes. I've not done much at all, a lazy Saturday letting my battery limp back to red (one day it will get to green) and doodling Zentangles. If this is 44 it's off to a mild yet pleasant start!

Edinburgh from the North Bridge

I know many say Sir Walter Scott would have been a unionist but reading this on the side of the Holyrood building yesterday makes me wonder...A quick translation is that while we can hold those in charge accountable when they are here but when they're down in London it's impossible. That's my main reason for supporting independence!

Art Class Literally

This just perfectly encapsulates everything I feel about the system, especially as an outsider. Of all things, the arts should be open to all, accessible to all and yes I include all forms of writing although the piece mentions journalistic publishing, it's the same throughout. It's not what you know or how well you know it but who you know and how well off your parents are.

As it is so well written there is nothing more to add. Enjoy

http://lithub.com/the-literary-class-system-is-impoverishing-literature/

Etsy - Hoping It Doesn't Look Like I Made It With My Feet

Honestly, they were made by hand!

Took a deep breath and opened a little Etsy shop today for some of the decorations I made.  I decided on doing this rather than taking the usual Scout Christmas Fayre stall as it seemed less painful not knowing if people were looking at the items or dismissing them outright.  Oh yes, there are stats though...well there are stats on here too which is why I know no one is going to read this so I'll look on Etsy as another corner of the internet where I can face rejection.

Kidding.

Almost.

I know I'm not particularly skilled, I enjoy making the items though and always sold a fair few at the stall.  This way I get to stay in bed this Saturday morning, hmmn, perhaps it wasn't such a good idea after all.

I called my shop "Crafty Auld Sew And Sew" which I thought amusing although the fact it reads as CraftyAuldSewAndSew without the spaces lessens the mild humour somewhat.  Plus people outside Scotland will neither know the meaning of auld or the play on words of "sew and sew".  Ahh, I give up!

Calling Bullshit On This

(It's taken me a while to decide whether or not to post this; I guess I will, there are far more eloquent blogs out there but I wrote this on the day this ridiculous study came out, feeling frustrated, confused and angry. It's still smarting now, even though the results have been somewhat dismissed, so here we are:)

I am not an Oxford academic and to be frank, I am glad I am not.

What I do have, unfortunately, is an intimate knowledge of life with ME/CFS. So it's completely disheartening when articles like this surface and reinforce the prejudice that this illness is all in the head and can easily be resolved if we'd all just pull our collective socks up and get on with it.

As it stands research into the actual causes of ME/CFS is underfunded, the symptoms are under such a large umbrella that they're regularly misunderstood and there seems an almost deliberate reluctance in wishing to resolve these facts.  Instead sufferers are dealt with by medical staff sometimes impatient at having to listen to the litany of ailments and then there are the friends, family, public who think we're all malingering.

Before I had this I didn't know anyone with it, hadn't paid much attention to it at all. In a way the disheartening attitude towards it startled me. I'd had thyroid issues before and it was a quick diagnosis then on to treatment and back to normal life - sorted.  No one thought it an imaginary friend, or rather foe, as here were the tests, here were the results and this is our plan of action. This time at each and every hospital visit I expectantly waited for them to say "this is what you've got and here's how we'll cure you."  At each and every hospital visit I gave up 'nearly an armful' of blood in the hope that this time it would definitely be something curable by a magic pill.  Meanwhile my life before ebbed away.

Who would choose that? In all seriousness who would choose to have this damn illness, disease, syndrome or, if these damned 'professors' are to be believed, fiction? I've gone through the CBT that's meant to be a cure.  Yes, it helped me cope, allowed me to forgive myself over not being able to do what I wanted and taught me to pace so I could fit things in (including such mundane tasks such as laundry), including inevitable crashes when life is too busy. I learned to say no (although it is still a massive struggle).

The GET taught me I had limits and when I tried to stretch those limits, in my usual gungho manner, I suffered the consequences and unless you've had ME/CFS you might not know how terribly those consequences play out.  So, not going to do that again in a hurry. To say this is beneficial is actually quite dangerous as sufferers want to be well and will push themselves over those limits time and time again. I have yet to hear of a single person with ME/CFS who has found GET to be anything but frustrating and painful.

So according to the exalted professors I should now be fine and dandy.  Let's shut up shop, stop the poor attempt at finding cause/defining symptoms/cure. We can all go home.

'Tis yet another kick in the teeth. Front page news has established ME/CFS as 'not a real illness' in the minds of people now. Whenever someone has to explain why they are not as they used to be it will be all side-glances, cat bum mouths and dismissals over just how fucking bad this really, truly is and haven't you tried just, you know, not being ill.

The Never Ending Saga of the Cold

Another week another bloody illness.  This time youngest twin son has suffered through an excruciating sinus infection, enough to eke some antibiotics out of the doctor.  Not ideal, I'm wary of this whole idea of overusing antibiotics but this is his first time and considering he'd had a cold since mid-October it was necessary to step the treatment up a gear.

We can pretty much write off this autumn, see what happens when I'm unable to scrape enough together for a holiday in the sun.  It's a luxury bordering on the necessity for life quality and obviously a good healthy dose of Vitamin D is missing this year.

I've decided to take a big gulp of confidence juice and try to go properly self-employed.  To an introvert this is the equivalent of that going-to-work-and-realising-your-naked dream and I don't think I have the talent but I have to attempt something to make more money.  All I really want to do is hide in a box but that is not an option.

I need to steal myself, head up, shoulders back and don't let them see you quiver.  Strangely I was prepared for this earlier but for a knock-back from a really rude person that had me slide into a pathetic lack of faith in myself.  Not only that but I was doing him a favour.  Twat.

Need to channel my inner warrior; it would help if I looked like this,
but I don't, I'm more teddy bear shaped than sleek, fierce goddess.

This Is Where I Wish I Was

Not location but creatively.

I know over the past couple of years I have come further in my art than I ever thought possible but I'm still not satisfied with what I do and I don't know when (if ever) I'll find my style.  This probably sounds trivial but the pure happiness I have while watercolour painting or getting messy with pastels is slightly dimmed when I see the finished product and then I don't want anyone else to see what I've done.

Practise, practise, practise then go to Pinterest for a good dose of inspiration! I don't want to copy, that's not what I look for, but seeing the results of artists with true talent is not off-putting but entices me to try and to persevere and maybe, just maybe, one day I'll get there.

No, I don't think in any way I'd ever be in the same stratosphere as accomplished artists such as James Guthrie. (See below, I love this painting, sure it's a fairly romanticised version of agricultural life in Scotland but considering Scottish culture has been stifled, especially recently, then any glimpse of our non-"British" history is a refreshing relief.)  Reality check; I paint as I write, to please myself and if it is appreciated by others then that is a bonus.  I will always be my harshest critic.

James Guthrie, A Hind's Daughter, 1883, National Galleries of Scotland, Edinburgh

Trying To Pause

Close my eyes, chose a soothing playlist, pretend the world isn't twirling and whirling around me.

It doesn't always work.

Meanwhile I'll listen to this and songs that ease my soul while hoping for a pause, a breath, anything.

The Comfort of Shared Moments

Son 2of2 and I have spent the better part of this week curled up on the sofa watching tv, playing Halo and coughing until our eyes water.  Apart from the obvious annoyance of sharing this moment with the unwelcome cold virus I can't help that little glow I get from spending all these hours with my son.

His brother is assiduously avoiding us lest he catches anything so I'm missing out there but the selfish part of me is enjoying this enforced quality time with at least one of my teenagers.  They'll be fourteen at the end of December, fourteen seems awfully grown-up so I'll snatch any precious seconds I have where I can be good old reliable mum, there with the soup and sympathy.

This Is Me Since Yesterday...

Actually the old Scottish saying is not exactly apt as this is me since the beginning of October.  Caught in the ebb and flow of a monster cold that just won't give up.  Now son 2 of 2 has suffered the same fate to the point that he has been off school for a week, the longest absence he has ever had since...well, since he started nursery all those years ago.  Then today son 1 of 2 was allowed to stay at home due to having zero sleep last night with all the coughing.  You know it's bad when your eyeballs are hurting and we're resorting to the "Vicks in socks" tonight as a last resort.  Everyone swears by it and it's certainly more appealing than the "onion syrup" remedy offered by a Polish friend.

There is a pity party going on at our house.  No one is invited.

(On another note, while trying and failing to find a witty illustrative depiction of our current crisis I came across the image below...wtf? Niagara Falls is nice and all but was it a strategic target?  I have a feeling the booklet would be full of the useless advice given to us during the 80s; hide behind a door, paint your windows white, put your head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye.  That last one may just be made up.)

It's A Pretty Messed Up Situation

I don't want to fill this place with the frustrations of politics so while I exasperate in real life, over the EVEL vote that has seen Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland MPs become second class in our supposedly united parliament, online I hide in Pinterest.

Thank the gods for pretty things to distract but I bloody love Pinterest.  As a visual person it just makes my dreary life that little bit brighter. It sounds as though I am overstating it but on dark days, an hour spent dithering around looking at things I would love to wear, places I'd love to go, art I love, projects I want to do, can extinguish a dark or sad mood. It's like flicking through the pages of a magazine but much, much, much better.

I'll be on there quite a lot considering that, since the General Election in May, it has been a relentless wave of sewage coming from Westminster and the stink is getting unbearable.

Time for some avoidance techniques as there is nothing that can be done and I haven't the strength or the income to emigrate.

Flick, flick, flick...and breathe...

The Perfect Level Of Spook

Not for me are the slasher horror films, stunningly predictable as the protagonists all go off alone to look for the source of the creepy noise.  In the dark.

Scary, I don't think so.

Instead I love this time of year when I'm introduced to spooky joys that sneak into the psyche and linger, playing malevolently with my mind.  Throughout my childhood I was terrified by Rabbie Burn's Tam O'Shanter as discussed previously.  You can listen to Brian Cox read it here, I won't be (fearty!)

Some may find this to be pretty mediocre in terms of shock horror value but it makes me wickedly gleeful.

And then there is also this.  I love being pointed in the direction of such gems at this time of the year.

Roll on the end of the month 'Weel done, Cutty Sark!'

The very scene that would have a young TIBS quavering.

(On a side note - some of my favourite lines of poetry are in there too

Gathering her brows like gathering storm,

Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

And there you go.)

Acknowledgement

And sometimes you just have to let the ME win, even before the day has started.

Well played stupid illness, well played.

Running, Standing Still

That pretty much sums up my relationship with technology.  Just as I think I've caught up, that I am semi-competent I suddenly find out things have moved on several paces and I'm back to knowing nothing at all.

It's exhausting and my tired old brain is addled trying to stay on top of it all.

I've thought on making a website, using one of those free sites of course (free being in my budget at the moment).  It all looked fairly simply but after about five minutes I gave up.  I knew where I wanted to go but damn it if I could actually get there!

One point of satisfaction tonight came as I discovered the uses of the block button on certain social media.  There is someone who has caused a lot of grief amongst members of an organisation I am involved in.  While I am luckily not tied into their disagreement the sheer brass-neck of the person had annoyed me.  I can't help it.  This whole sense of injustice, over people standing up and taking ownership of their actions, whether they be dick actions or not, drives me to distraction.

I was once again in danger of blundering in, of having everyone side with this person against the bad person picking on her.  And she is the type to greatly enjoy that, indeed it is part of this whole grief manifesto she has going.

Block, block, blockity, block.

And now she is no more!

I can merrily go about my business without that thorn digging in every time I see another "look at me, I'm this organisations best thing ever" post.

Yippee!

I need to do this more often.  I get bogged down with people like that.  Now technology has offered me a way out, probably could have done with finding it out earlier but never mind.  I'm there and no doubt come tomorrow there will be another thousand things I could also do that I will find out about...someday...

Home or Away?

I have an addiction to programmes featuring people wanting to buy houses in Spain or France.  In fact it is becoming a source of amusement as I have a rant button that is pushed any time I hear the phrase "expat community" or "don't need to learn the language" or, one recent statement "I prefer egg and chips to Spanish food"! 'Sake!

Cue gasp of frustration and quick tweet of annoyance.  I can't help it.  My tolerance levels have completely bottomed out and in a way I'm jealous that these people are getting the opportunity to move abroad.  Although some of these retired expat stuffed estates would be a fate worse than death.

If I were in this situation when the boys were still in primary school, both parents gone, nothing and no one keeping me here, we'd already have made for somewhere else.  Am I using their proximity to important exams as an excuse - maybe?

It is scary, it is daunting, the fact there is only me now.  I have no one to discuss these matters with, no one to advise or help plan.  So it's all on my shoulders.  I just know the few times I have gone somewhere warm my ME/CFS hasn't been as nasty to me, or perhaps that is because I'm relaxed anyway.

Once the exams are done the mortgage will also have been paid.  Could I leave, the desire is strong.  After the referendum last year I gave up on seeing a progressive Scotland, one I'd be happy and proud of.  Instead it's wallowing in the misery brought by a selfish government we once again did not vote for but that is what people bizarrely chose.  I don't feel any wish to stay here for the rest of my life now. I love Lanzarote but could I live there permanently amongst the volcanoes, embarrassing the memory of Cesar Manrique with my dabblings?  I don't have the money to travel as extensively as I'd like, to see as many places as I could with the boys, so researching places is limited.

I watch these tv shows; I sigh at the lovely homes, cringe at the "made for expat" ones and the whole idea of owning a property rather than a home.  I dream of moving, learning to speak the language properly, perhaps for once fitting in somewhere.  I wonder if I will ever be brave enough.

Hands Off!

On a rather balmy October afternoon I joined a couple of thousand people on the Forth Road Bridge in protest against proposed fracking and UGE/UCG.

It felt good to be part of something, to fight against the profit hungry companies who pressure governments by dangling a few jobs and hang the environmental consequences.  While the companies mumble about "test" drilling, basically a foot in the door, the proof is in already fracked places - communities suffering in Australia and the US. So off I trotted, to hold hands with strangers, as we attempted to send a message.

On a day like today it was good to remind myself what it is we stand to lose.

They're building a new bridge across the Forth, the water is already polluted from nuclear submarines the UK government are allowing to rot in dock and various horrible things dumped by previous governments. What is left to protect, must be protected, cleaned and preserved or there will be nothing in future.

Pow! It's The Finish Line!

Your highs and lows for the month:

Well I could start with a low that I have a croaky throat and cough that could bring up a lung. I've been getting heavy hints all day to step in and take over a situation when all I want is a rest.  That is not what this challenge prompt means though, I don't think so at least.  The cough medicine I'm taking has one hell of a kick so I'm probably at the point where I don't really care!

So, start with the Eeyore moments -

The lows were the amount of times I felt I was looking back at things I cannot change.  It almost felt like a pity party.  There is no way to change the past and I have a bad habit sometimes of dwelling there and becoming all morose by over thinking all those mistakes and missed opportunities.

Perhaps it's a good thing to get it all out, to stop constant "whatiffery". A good bellyache and done.  Eh, yeah, we'll go with that.

As for the highs, well having written more through this than I have for a while it's beginning good habits I won't allow to lapse.  I've written other pieces, not online, which may lead somewhere or just serve as sketching for the bigger picture.

It's also made me think, reassess, look at where I am.  For the past few years it's been all about the ME/CFS, the coping, the understanding, the frustrations.  There isn't much I can do about it but I can't let it win, even the days where getting out of bed feels monumental I can't.

And now I'm waffling.

That's never going to stop.  The waffling.

But I feel like this...

...even if I couldn't possibly hold that pose for long!

Limping To The Finish Line - It's Day 29

What are your goals for the next 30 days -

This would be a "what lessons have we learned" post again but to be honest the last week hasn't been a great example of the fact that I want to continue regularly writing on here for the next 30 days and beyond.

I fell almost at the finish line, picked myself up... and I'm going to stop that analogy right there.

I do wish to start writing again, even if it is only for my own eyes.  I can entertain myself, might as well!  It's going to be a busy month, no break this year, so it will be interesting to see what state I am in 30 days from now, especially as the rushing around of the last week has brought out a sore throat and back ache, my ME/CFS alarm bells are ringing.

There are other '30 Days' prompts I might use, by the time I get around to thinking of what to post my brain has usually switched off so it's good to have a sort of cheat sheet.  If it starts good habits then it will be worth it.

I have this picture on my vision board (yes I have one, judge if you will).  It's where I would like to be, writing, sketching, watching the world go by from some little cafe.

Oops, Day 28 A Little Late

That commitment I made, which I've written about previously, kind of got in the way of the commitment I made to do this and not fall by the wayside.

As excuses go I'll stick with it. Did you miss me? No, didn't think so.

Post five things that make you laugh out loud:

With the power of YouTube...

I am never not going to find that funny. Some pranks are cruel, some go too far but this is genuis!

I do believe if he could talk, my eldest cat would have a similarly laconic drawl apart from the American accent that is.

I can't believe this must be about 20 years old, it's just as funny no matter how many times an episode is viewed.  I downloaded a box set of episodes and introduced my sons to the joy of Father Ted, each generation a new fan base is created.  I believe this is called 'timeless'.

Similarly, I just think The IT Crowd had spectacularly funny moments and seeing my sons get the humour renews my enjoyment in them. Peter File...fnar!

Finally, on my theme of things I've rediscovered on viewing it with my sons...Airplane!  Completely forgot how many daft little jokes there were in it - some very close to the bone, I doubt they'd be permitted now.  There's a scene, with people on the luggage carousel, that had my eldest boy laugh so hard he nearly injured himself.