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.