It's that time of year again...

...and sh*t - I'm 39...

Currently Agreeing With

Good girl version -



Naughty girl version -

Tip me a wink in the morning Mr. Sunshine won't you?

There is a definite autumnal snap in the air and in twenty-one days we'll be jetting off for a much (desperately) needed holiday.  So at this moment everything else seems to reek a little of poo;  I've just had yet another blow from the ex that lets me know there are many people out there who believe I am a monster bitch of an ex-wife thanks to the lies he feeds them and at the moment I have to take it as I can't retaliate until the final piece of the jigsaw goes in and then he'll get his; house buying has hit more trouble and if it ever happens I'll die of shock; job at the moment isn't so much meh as "do I have to go?" and I'm getting more than a little pissed off at how my sons seem to miss out on every opportunity at school in favour of certain children who are always top pick.  Everything is on a low and there doesn't appear to be any easy answers ready for me to snatch up.  In fact there are never any easy answers so we'll mark that one down as a myth.

The hurdles I have to jump get higher.

Still, I carry on.  I have to.  I could really just lie down and sleep for eternity but I am made of sterner stuff, like the bloody Titanic I am and there are no icebergs around here I thank you.

I wouldn't say I'm keeping upbeat.  No reasonably sane person could if they had to deal with the amount of utter snash that I have to.  But I am keeping up.  Just.  When it gets like this I downsize.  I don't look to the future especially when it looks as bleak as it currently does.  Instead I take what pleasure I can from simplicity.  That little cross-stitch I'm working on, the little drawing I'm doing, walking our boy (dog not either of the human ones), watching the Hobbits build their Lego or train models, reading together, watching films even if I have to sit through Star Trek...again..., that article in a magazine that resonates with me, that song I hear that brings a wry smile as I acknowledge the words that chime with me.

It is what you do to survive.  At some point things will pick up, if not for me then I'll make it through to when the Hobbits are up and running and I'll ensure they don't end up with this kind of existence. That will be my reason to go on.

And That Is The End Of That

Last year I began what newspeak would describe as a journey.

This wasn't a journey related (completely) to what happened three Summers ago.  This wasn't a journey related (completely) to my father dying last Spring.

I began the process, and it is a process, of trying to get what is called an open market shared equity doo-dah from the government.  The process was long and hard and frustrating.  I watched as wonderful houses came and went while the organisation dithered and dallied.

Then, this year, success.  Not only success but a sign - two signs in fact - and all the pieces began to fall in to place.  The perfect house, the perfect price, everybody in agreement and all is merry and bright.

Until last week.  Last week when the bank (rhymes with...) decided that due to the detritus left on my credit report by my ex then the "criteria" had changed and they closed the door.  All this time, I have done my very best to repair the damage left when he decided to spend without paying back and when I was too ill to notice.  I have saved, I have paid all my bills, I have been a good girl.  But it is not enough.  It is never enough.

And now it ends.

That is that, there is nowhere to turn.  No one listens.  No one looks at the evidence there in my own bank accounts.  No one cares.

If there was a magic wand to wave I could skip the whole shared equity thing and suddenly there would be the £45,000 I need (and which ironically I can pay back but who cares right?)  Without a mortgage there is no shared equity, without either of those there is no house.

Once again I have let everyone down.  Those few years when I didn't pay attention, when I didn't look to see why he was so eager to take the bill paying duty from me - I will pay for them emotionally forever it would seem.  But what pains me the most, like a dagger through the ribs, is the disappointment I am to my boys.  Oh they don't say it, they say never mind mummy we'll be right.  But I've let them down, I have failed completely in one of the "criteria" of being a parent - a stable, secure, safe environment, basically a home of their own.

I wonder just how long this goes on.  While he swans about in BMWs, living in converted churches, not paying a single penny in maintenance.  The injustice of it all is choking.

So here I am.  Lost again.  Loser once more.  I keep telling myself that all is fine, we are still healthy, we still have this place but it doesn't work.  I can feel it twist and turn inside my stomach ready to burst free and let it be known that the truth is...no matter what I do there is no hope.  Failure.

August is the "Month of Hope"

No it's not.

It's like that...and that's the way it is

I'm your only friend I'm not your only friend but I'm a little glowing friend But really I'm not actually your friend But I am Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch Who watches over you Make a little birdhouse in your soul Not to put too fine a point on it Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet Make a little birdhouse in your soul
I have a secret to tell From my electrical well It's a simple message and I'm leaving out the whistles and bells So the room must listen to me Filibuster vigilantly My name is blue canary one note* spelled l-i-t-e My story's infinite Like the Longines Symphonette it doesn't rest
There's a picture opposite me Of my primitive ancestry Which stood on rocky shores and kept the beaches shipwreck free Though I respect that a lot I'd be fired if that were my job After killing Jason off and countless screaming Argonauts Bluebird of friendliness Like guardian angels its always near

Day 26 — Your week, in great detail

 times this by four evenings

Some of it anyway.

Day 25 — Your day, in great detail

Where to start, where to start.  Beginning is always best.

Woke up, on time, just, hate that feeling in the morning - I am a night owl.  Boys up already and watching Spongebob (gah!) so breakfast made, bath run and boys persuaded to wash, dress and then have their breakfast.  Just boring cereal this morning.

Off to Zumba class.  First of all, wash on, the whirly gig is bent in an alarming fashion so I don't know how long it will last and as I want out of here then I'll be damned if I replace the damn thing.  Zip about the hoover and then off I go.  Zumba class is the best part of the day.  Despite my hum-dinging quality after class I go shopping afterwards for necessities.

Back home, shopping put away, boys are in garden building skateboard ramps, warning given about broken limbs etc.  Clean up house, washing done so begin to put on whirly gig - there we go, whirly gig snaps half way through.  Fan-bloody-tastic.  Take washing off and bring down clothes horse, one way or another these clothes will dry!

That done, time for much needed bath, put yesterdays wash away, nice bath, relax for five whole minutes.  Up again, clean bathroom while I'm at it.  Downstairs and time for lunch.  Make lunch times four.  Play Swing-ball with eldest Hobbit.  Do a little bit of a cross-stitch design I'm working on.  Fill in tax credit forms.  Uh-oh look at the time.

Ready for work, ask mother to give boys pasta for dinner and off I go.  Work is...meh.  Busy but that is not the issue, see that once again all my effort seems to be for nothing as I'm not graded that well.  Ah fuck it all to hell.  Plow through the night, call after call, who cares about stats anyway (I do).

Time for home.  Empty bins.  Despite the time boys are still up and Mother is in bed.  Hayfever stuff given and warning about bedtimes added on top.  Bin outside.  Online, first call as always the property search sites. Nothing there as usual.  Consider my next step.  Wish I could talk to someone about this and get more than just an agreement and "whatever you think is best" attitude.  On here now.  End of day.

Day 24 — Whatever tickles your fancy

Despite his best efforts this summer holiday is most definitely not being ruined by the man child halfwit.

Having said that today, what tickles my fancy, is an IT Crowd marathon.

"If you type Google, into Google, then you can break the internet."

Peter File.

Classic.

Day 23 — A YouTube video

I know people like this. Why do I even bother - because I want my boys to have a decent education. Will remind them to kick me if I ever become so pretentious though.

Day 22 — A website

There are a few website I enjoy trawling through while I'm meant to be doing other things.  I am sad enough to have organised little folders for the different types of bookmarked favourites I have.  There are the functional sites, such as bank, house search sites (God help me but I am fed up of looking at them!) and reference points.  There are those for fun, some to browse and perhaps shop (either fantasy shop or real shop - go Amazon!)  And there are those sites to which I look for inspiration.

At the moment I am watching and enjoying reruns of Project Runway season 6.  For that - why didn't we get season 5 and where is season 7?  Annoyed.  So as many of the sites I use are the equivalent of flicking through a magazine (really good magazines where the subject matter is always involving and a delight for the eye) then I choose the website of one of the finalist.  (To be honest she should have won, she has a gift of which I am entirely envious, oh to be able to whip up a beautiful gown in a day - what am I saying, would I wear it around the house?  Get a grip.)

Carol Hannah

Day 21 — A recipe

I cannot vouch for this recipe as I only found out such things existed tonight. While I can take or leave donuts, I love nutella.


Italian Donuts


Makes 3 dozen donuts.


2 teaspoons dry active yeast
1/2 cup warm water (about 100 degrees F)
1/4 cup granulated sugar
5 cups pastry flour
4 tablespoons unsalted butter at room temperature
3/4 cup warm milk
Pinch of salt
2-3 cups Nutella
Sugar for dusting


Place the yeast and water in a small bowl and whisk together let stand until creamy.

Place the sugar and flour in a bowl of a mixer and add the butter and mix just to incorporate the butter. Add the dissolved yeast warm milk and salt and mix just until the dough comes together. The dough will be very soft.

Grease a bowl well with butter and place the dough in the bowl and let rise about 1 to 1 1/2 hours or until doubled in volume.

Spread the dough on a lightly floured board to 1/2 inch thickness. Cut the puffs into rounds and let rise on a lightly flour board loosely covered for about 1 hour.

Heat the oil until it reaches 350 degrees F. Fry the puffs and drain on paper towels, then quickly sprinkle with sugar. Cook the remaining puffs. When cool enough to handle, fill with Nutella using a pastry bag fitted with a small straight tip. Serve.


Something else that is delicious is this:

Iker Casillas
Espana por favor!


Note to self - you obviously didn't look close enough during all that time you spent in Spain.  Silly girl.

Day 20 — A hobby of yours

Ah, this is the longest 30 days in the history of these meme things, of that I am quite sure.  Still with the dogged determination that has hindered more than helped me over the years I continue regardless.

Hobbies, if only I had time for all the hobbies I'd like to do.  This is where my arty crafty side comes out.  Nothing calms the spirit more than ploughing through a design or turning a doodle into something that matters only to myself.  I care not that people think cross-stitch and the type is twee or that some might look at what I do and sneer.

Okay, I'm not in a happy place today.  That is clear from the focussing on the negative side of hobbies compared to just rabbiting on about why I enjoy things.  Some days are just crappier than others.

Day 19 — A talent of yours

I really, really, *really* wish I could say at this point that I can play the piano and it doesn't sound as though the cats were running across it.  There is a talent I wish I had but for the patience of practising.  When you are a child there is always much more interesting things to do than sit doing plinky plonky scales on the piano.  Having said that then I am sorry that the piano my grandfather gave to my mother was sold.

On to the subject at hand though.  What talent do I possess?

I'm quite good at arty things, I'm slowly getting back into the habit of sketching and painting.  There is always the crafty side of sewing things, my cross-stitch.  I also write, but not very well, although the Open University course I did showed that I wasn't all that bad at poetry - who'd a thunk it!

What I'm really trying to get here is that I have a distinct lack of talent.  I can do things, I can do things well but nothing stands out.  Like everything else I am running on mediocre here.  It's just the way I was brought up: don't shine, don't show-off, don't think you are better than anything.  I love that the Hobbits aren't like that though and they have talent by the bucket-load!

Day 18 — Whatever tickles your fancy

Day 17 — An art piece (painting, drawing, sculpture, etc.)

One of the Hobbits little friends asked me the other day if I was an artist.  I have no idea where he got such an idea from as I don't do anything big that neighbours might notice, I don't look arty - or at least I don't think I do. But he was quite certain, maybe the Hobbits said it, who knows.  Children tend to say the most inspirational things at times.

So I have pieces I like, pieces I admire, I go through stages of liking one style over another and then not.  I dislike intensely any snobbery over artists, all this guff about Jack Vettriano for example.  Heaven forbid an artist actually sells his paintings en masse.  Although not my favourites there is a sense of dark foreboding in his work and each painting, you could write a story about the characters within very easily. One of my art teachers in school was very dismissive of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.  A particular favourite of mine at the time as it met my Gothic tendencies.  You see apparently I knew nothing as the background to the Mona Lisa is squinty for a reason plebs such as myself couldn't possibly comprehend.

Therefore I totally dismiss what art choices say about a person in a way.  They may give an idea of personality but in no way should that cloud judgement of the person as a whole.  Some people like the chocolate box paintings, some people adore abstracts, if there was no variety in tastes what a bland little world this would be.

Wait, what was this post about...oh yes, my choice for this...

I could be entirely predictable and choose something by Mary Cassett but I feel more like this today...

Childish, magical yes, but tomorrow I may lean towards something else.  That is how it goes.

(Midsummer Eve by Edward Robert Hughes)

Day 16 — A song that makes you cry (or nearly)

This song was written about Agnetha's regret at missing so much of her daughter's life and how quickly a child grows.

Now I am a mother I totally understand it.  So although it doesn't make me cry it comes very close!  It just passes by, I look at the Hobbits and they are no longer those squidgy little babies, their limbs are all gangly, their faces changing and for a moment I'll wish I could go back.  There is so much I would do differently and to start with I would do it alone, on my own terms.  I would take more baby photos.  So many things.

But now it is too late, and here we are.  I am glad of how I've raised my boys and even at their hissy fitting worse they are not that bad at all.  In fact I'm rather proud of how smart they are, that they enjoy things, have their own interests.  Who would have thought I'd have children who loved kayaking.  Kayaking I tell you!

(I always wanted to be Agnetha when I was little but because I had brown hair I got to play Frida.  Which isn't bad, but it isn't Agnetha!)

Day 15 — A fanfic

Something I don't normally read although I like the concept in parts.  Taking your favourite characters and using them in ways that perhaps the author didn't think of (sometimes for good reason as they can skim close to pornographic at times.)

I had read a Doctor Who one once and while a pleasant to read it wasn't enough to make me a fan of fanfic.

However I did read one recently that was almost better than the original source material from whence it came.  Called Wide Awake it takes the characters from Twilight (yes, I know but it made Meyers a multi-millionaire for some unfathomable, addictive reason and yes, I did read all of them - in one week no less) and twists them for grown ups.

Don't think Meyers would approve.  Lots of her followers do though.

Day 14 — A non-fictional book

At first I was going to mention a book I am wanting to read at the moment but then I thought to a book I read and reread time and time again.  Each time I never fail to find the humour in the description of the book's theme - Australia.

In Down Under, Bill Bryson touches on some reasons that have puzzled me about the antipodes - namely the amount of things, both animal and plants that, if not actually able to kill you, can certainly maim you for life.  It is a reason I turned down a job there many years ago and when sometimes I question just how smart (or not) a move that was then I can read this and know I'm not alone in being a bit of a silly fearty about little crawly, creepy poisonous killing beasties.

See, see I wasn't completely mad to say no.  I mean, it wasn't like the job was in a city (fearsome spiders live there too) but in the country where one wrong step can be very, very painful if not life ending.

Day 13 — A fictional book

My god but the thought just crossed my mind -what if I had to write about every book I own.  It would take all week.  I hoard my books, in an ideal world I'd have an unlimited account with Amazon but it was ever thus - my favourite books are ones I've owned for decades but there is always room for more.  Come on in, plenty of space on the shelves, here I'll even dust it for you.

I've mentioned a favourite book previously so do I go obscure or mainstream?  Do I mention the fact that I have read and *deep breath* actually own all of the Twilight books? And the other one she wrote?  Do I mention the fact that if it wasn't for the stupidness that holds me back I'd venture to try and get some of my own scribblings published and on my shelves.

I'm digressing like crazy here.

A made up book as the Hobbits call it.  Currently I'm reading Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Huffinpuff - sorry I meant this one:

Unlike The Time Traveller's Wife which was enjoyable in some parts and just sheer frustrating in others this story is unfolding nicely although as the mother of twins it does get tiresome reading about freaky ones.  If anyone is the parent of twins they will know that reality would have her writing about fights and arguments and the impossibility of sharing.