I really don't like that saying 'blast from the past'. There was a really rotten film of the same name about 20 or so years ago. I digress.
Tomorrow I'm going to be sticking my neck out and trying something I never thought I'd have the brass neck to do. Failure is probably a certainty but all it takes is one person, just one, to believe in me and things could actually, genuinely, happily happen. I'm at the point, once more where life can go one of two ways, I'm hoping this time that it's the better road I get to travel.
Travelling is made much more pleasant with some good tunes. I need a jolly song to take me through the end of a fairly wasted weekend (dizzy, nauseous feeling still there so nothing of any worth has been accomplished).
My second flashback to the 80s is a song that has particularly fun memories.
My dad had picked me up from school on the way back from my auntie's, on the radio it was announced that if you could get to the Barrowlands in Glasgow by 4:30 you could take part in the filming of the new Deacon Blue video. Well, I quickly persuaded my dad to turn around and pick up my then best friend who was just as eager to go and off we went.
I can't quite remember how long it took, I think it was well after 10 pm when we finally stepped back outside, breathless and excited, having had a brilliant evening of music. Yes, they did play the song again and again but they also gave us a free concert of their other songs too. Perhaps it took hours and hours but it certainly didn't feel that way.
I can spot myself in the crowd, back then I was all curly hair, big earrings and no glasses (I squinted a lot but I just hated wearing the huge glasses I had!)
So, one of my claims to fame, I'm one of the crowd in a music video - I'll take it!
I have been given one of those Facebook challenges by a friend where I post songs from the 80s for 7 days. It was such fun looking through my first choice that I thought I'd inflict my music share on here as well.
Love and Money are one of the many Scottish bands from that era. We had such a glut of talent, mainly coming from Glasgow, we really were spoiled (plus the bouncers back then were not so strict so sneaking into a club to hear some good music was a lot easier than it will be now). I used to see the lead singer walking around Glasgow, Sauchiehall Street to be precise, in his red baseball cap.
I listen to this and immediately I'm cycling home on a chilled Autumn evening in the West End of Glasgow. Headphones on, blind to the world around me, listening to the tapes I'd made from records I kept at my parents' house (because sometimes you just can't be too careful in a flatshare and I didn't have the money to replace any breakages or 'walkabouts'). Close my eyes and I can picture it completely.
Lots of things have happened in the last month, although as summer holidays go it's been mostly computer games and snuffling hayfever for the teens. Plans for days out have fallen by the wayside, busy places have never been that appealing anyway.
I was watching a video on meditation, that is probably one of the most pretentious things I've ever written. I've been trying my hardest to learn to stop, breathe and calm down, especially during times of anxiety. When I went through CBT at the ME clinic I was taught various ways to attempt to switch off my buzzing mind. None of them really worked and then I saw this:
Completely relate to having a chattering monkey mind. Completely! Now, when I need a moment of peace I give the chattering monkey something to do. In my usual way, I almost feel like I should talk to the monkey, make peace with her - yeah, I'll let you know how that works out.
There comes a time when the frustration of two years ago reinstates itself - in fact, it happens a lot nowadays. Perhaps the tide is turning, perhaps not. I don't underestimate the amount of stubborn, pig-headed people who will never change their views (because I am one!) But with all the crap we've been dealt with, all the lies exposed, being dragged out of the EU, about to have Trident nuclear weapons updated against our will, surely there can't be many who haven't seen the clear evidence we need to be independent?
Regardless, we'll be there with the facts again, I expect all the newspapers to do their best to trumpet all the misinformation again and not do their research. Take quotes out of context, ramp up the Project Fear machine, completely ignore the other side of the argument, oh we've seen it all before. If anyone believes them now then more fool them.
That's pretty much how I feel about the way things are going at the moment. If I had to think about it too long I'd be sick with the way the UK is going and there is nothing we can do but be dragged down with it all.
So I will close my eyes, I will hear the sea rush against the beach and feel the sand on my toes. Everyone needs a happy place, I know where mine is and reality is truly too awful to want to remain there for long.
Yes, that is the Hobbits, not so little and cute now - more long of limb and handsome. Hug your babies, they grow up too fast!
Finally, I've had a chance to upload my Millport photos and each one was a breath of memories, lightening the mood. What to do? What to do?
For some reason I've taken lots of photos of flowers, as a pretty poor gardener this is amusing - to me if no one else. I'd love a beautiful garden, a full bee and butterfly friendly banquet. If only I had my dad's talent for being able to actually grow things. Another thing I wish I'd paid attention to!
Here are some wild and not-so-wild flowers. There are no names, I have no idea what most of them are other than pleasing to the eye in natures wonderful way.
*not a typo, it's Scots, despite some folk thinking it's not a language, it is!
The family have just returned from a much needed, desperately needed, few days away at - you guessed it - Millport, Isle of Cumbrae.
What a bloody week, was so glad that the internet was intermittent as it meant I could block out most of what has been happening since, once again, Scotland is being dragged into a position it did not make. Strangely, perhaps because of the distance, I feel disconnected. I am so beyond frustrated with people not seeing the bigger picture. Of course, I'm not saying I am correct in my assumptions on how things should be but the pettiness, the snide "well, I'm not changing my mind even though it makes me look like a prat" and I'm just fed up to the back teeth with them.
This will be known as the period where 'Britain' went barmy over being European, my identity goes Scottish and then European so that's me stuffed then. Have never considered myself as British, won't wrap myself in that flag and go all snivelly over the Queen. This referendum has done what countless elections have failed to do, I now no longer give a flying fuck about people or this country. Hell mend you all and sod you for ruining my sons' chances of living and working abroad and for ruining my escape plan.
So...being miles away on a small island was good then, really.
The weather wasn't great but this is Scotland and you don't go on holiday for the weather. I have noticed someone in my group of friends has recently started this little chipping at things I'm doing so I expect some comment from her when we all meet up Tuesday about the poor weather.
You know what, we wore raincoats, sucked it up and enjoyed having sand in our toes, sea crunchy hair and jellyfish spotting anyway.
Photos to follow and won't that be much better than my grumbling self.
I can see it now, the same kind of people who feel their tax money should be hoarded in caves and protected by dragons, they'd flip at the idea I'm about to propose.
The title gave it away; holidays on prescription.
Perhaps it does sound like a huge drain on money but consider this: next week we're off to Millport for the week. It's been tough scraping enough for this cheap holiday but I know I'll reap the benefits health wise which will obviously filter down to my sons and my work productivity on returning home. Had I been going somewhere with guaranteed sun and all inclusive (ooh, I can hear the snorts of derision) the benefits would last much longer.
Okay, maybe not free holidays but some scheme that would allow you to pay the amount back over a longer period of time. Holiday companies are not charities. Not saying they should be. However, it would be nice for everyone, regardless of what they earn, to have the joy of travel and a week of relaxation, not just the privileged or those who have large credit card limits.
Think of it as a tax break for those not earning enough to squirrel their money away into tax avoidance/evasion schemes. Oh, I think I've just thought of a way to pay for it! Wouldn't society be much nicer when everyone had a break from the grind? When people couldn't asset strip companies, rob pensions, buying yachts and private jets while the regular employees face the bleak cliff face of the dole and a poor retirement? Wouldn't that make for a healthier, happier place?
What do you call someone infatuated with Pinterest? That sounds like the set-up for a joke but there has to be a name for it other than Pinner, surely?
Carry on regardless. Another legend gone this year - Muhammad Ali, I'm not a fan of boxing but you can't really fault a man who can say this (about not wanting to fight in Vietnam):
He didn't run off to Canada, he didn't hide or find a way to avoid service through loopholes - as many (rich white) men did, a few subsequently becoming politicians. Well, once you wriggle your way out of a situation while condemning others, without the same means, for wanting to do likewise, there really is only one occupation for you.
Anyway, back to the Pinterest thing.
I Pin quite a lot of images and then only get the chance to see them every so often. So I thought, in my usual way, it would be opportune for me to share them here too. Some might have made their way onto one of my boards, some might just encapsulate how I'm feeling that day.
I also enjoy retweeting images that catch my eye and my mind, like today:
Woman Before the Rising Sun - Caspar David Friedrich, c.1818
Because some days you just have to pause and take it all in.
The purse has just taken another car related hit and I realise the time has come to face one of those situations I dread - buying a new car. Old Car is beginning to show it's age - nearly 10 years old after all, so it's more expensive to keep than get rid and how I wish it wasn't the case. Not that I am particularly attached to Old Car.
There is some difference in what I would really love to own -
Oh, lovely, lovely minty car!
Compared to what will fit me, two gangly teens and Happy Dog, plus all the usual crap we seem to trawl with us every time we leave the house. (Parent myth; you carry a lot of stuff when you have a baby. Nah, it's nothing to life with teens!)
Meh
Then there is the nasty truth of what I can afford, playing in the background as my forever song at the moment. (I can *easily* afford my dream car, which is an irony in itself!)
No doubt I will be given lots of advice, lots of conflicting advice, on what is best, easiest to run, good for the environment! I wish it was easier, I wish I didn't have to face the inevitable car salesmen/women but here we are. That's a lot of wishes going on, let's see where we end up.
Eldest cat, aka the original and grumpiest Grumpy Cat, has gone missing.
For the past few weeks, he has suffered the return of the tumour on his face. Under the watchful eye of the vet, it has been a case of either wait until surgery is possible or the inevitable goodbye has to happen.
I fear I waited too long to try for the surgery option and he's just decided enough is enough. After last year's bit of luck where the tumour moved to a position that would mean Cat didn't need his jaw broken in order to remove the lump, I just hoped luck would be on our side again.
I fear that, because I've hesitated, he has decided to go find his final resting place as some cats do. After all, he was from feral stock, rescued as a kitten with his only remaining sibling, both survivors of a magpie attack on the nest. We adopted them both. His poor sister died from a heart condition not long after the boys were born. She was small, she was delicate and her heart beat just a little too fast.
We were left with the rough and tumble brother. The one who got his kitten head wedged into a cat food tin and valiantly tried to pretend it wasn't anything to do with him. The one who would strut up to any delivery van or car visiting 'his street' for a good nosy inside.
We've gone through so much together and he's always been a constant - even if it was a constant "I told you so" from him. When Ex left the cat never looked at him again, turning his back every time Ex picked up the boys.
He was a character who bemused many neighbours, owning the street wherever we lived.
Wherever you are - please come home, say goodbye. Have one last chase of the dog, one last swipe at the other cats and one last touch of a paw on my shoulder as you sleep on the back of the couch.
For some reason, we've skipped the rest of Spring, all of Summer and Autumn and have gone straight back to Winter. It's nearly May and today we had snow, hailstones, freezing rain with a little chilly sunshine thrown into the mix.
As everyone jokes about a typical Scottish weather system while turning on the central heating again I wish for a chance of warm, toasty weather to comfort the bones. What will happen tomorrow; who knows!
Some Spring lambs, probably needing a thicker woolly coat.
I've got to learn to do it, I'm so much better than once I was but I really have to own my right to say no to people. It's important for my health more than anything else and what little energy I have needs to go towards my little family, my ability to keep a roof over our heads and not fall into that 'single parent' stereotype.
I hate being so serious all the time.
It does feel that is my daily routine now and I'd like some fun. Can't afford it though so I'll return to being grumpy, increasingly old biddy.
Escape in a photo -
Need to channel the attitude of this..erm...eagle?
In the past two days two legends of my teenage years have died. At nearly 45 I feel too young to be seeing so many familiar faces passing on this year but here we are.
First of all, that bitch cancer decided to deprive us of the wonderful comedienne and writer, Victoria Wood. In an 80s where most accents on TV were RP to the extreme here was a woman, being funny, appealing to all age groups and with an unapologetic Northern English cadence. Which, for me at least, added to the humour.
I wasn't the only one happy to sit with the parents, all of us laughing heartily at Victoria's shows. Really bitingly funny comedy, intelligently written but most of all it made everyone laugh out loud then shut up really quickly for fear of missing the next joke.
My best friend in school and I used to do a daft take on Marjorie and Joan to entertain our classmates.
And my mother and I shared a love for Acorn Antiques, especially Julie Walters as Mrs Overall.
One of my friends pointed me to this one as it is reminiscent of people we know (always in a disorganised flap!) Victoria wrote and starred in Dinnerladies -
Victoria was also a great actress so if you get the chance to watch Housewife, 49, it is well, well worth it for her performance alone.
There we are, getting over another iconic loss when only a little while ago I hear that Prince has died. Alas not one of the many Royals (now hearing Prince has died would give the media a heart flutter as they wondered if it was Charles, William, the other ones).
Again, when I was a teen Prince was very risky and daring. I remember watching and giggling along to Purple Rain with friends, for us it was racy, I've not watched it recently but I would bet it was anything but! For a bunch of insular teens in a small Scottish town it was the closest some of us would get to porn (unless your friend's big brother accidentally left his naughty French video in the VCR!) I digress.
Victoria Wood was 62, Prince 57, that seems ridiculously young. So unfair. Celebrity Death Year 2016 edition is bloody awful.
I bought and wore a raspberry coloured beret, which did not suit this 13-year-old, in order for people to think the song had been written about me. I fooled no one.
I tried to get the official video of Little Red Corvette but it looks like that's not so easy - I'll leave it to anyone reading this to seek out his music. Take of the lyrics what you will.
Being a grouchy old so-and-so today so best left to mumble alone. Pretty pic for the day, Spring blossoms. I've always wanted a cherry blossom tree but thanks to Nutty Neighbour's enormous leylandii trees sucking up all the goodness from my garden I have no chance of growing one so I'll just have to appreciate them elsewhere.
At the same point, beautiful weather today gave me an excuse to enjoy some time in the garden and those blessed leylandii were full of birds. Just a pity they are so over-imposing and over-imposing into my garden.
Blame it on the fact there aren't enough hours in the day of late. Once again it's running to keep up and I can't run.
I didn't say the 30 days were going to run concurrently...aye. Might have gotten away with it there. So here's a pretty picture of the Highlands to make up for it all.
...midnight has slipped by again, pulling the bed covers with it.
Time fleeting, flighting, fernickity. So time shall be the prompt.
My sons way back when they were still known as the Hobbits, discovering Bronze Age Scottish 'things' in the land around Cairnpapple, or maybe just rabbit shits. Yeah, probably just rabbit shits or chocolate raisins as they used to call it. No I don't eat chocolate raisins any more, funny that.
Two hits on the time machine there - reminiscing of when my sons were little squishables and one of our visits to the Bronze Age site not far from home, Cairnpapple.
