Hello folks,
I have just watched a programme on ITV called 'Wanted: A Family of My Own' about the stress, anxiety, decisions and delights of adoption and fostering. I loved the programme and, if it's aim is to get people to want to foster, then the aim is achieved with me. If I could go and foster a child that needs a home I would do it right now.
However, as we all know, it's not that simple. So much red tape is involved in the process and it must be so very frustrating for everyone involved from the social worker to the prospective parents. But to see the joy on the faces of the parents in this programme after waiting for 5 years to be told they could go ahead and adopt was wonderful. To see them meet their son for the first time was even better.
I feel very, very fortunate to have been able to have my own family without any problems and I used to take it for granted that I could have a baby whenever I chose to. It was only meeting people who had problems and who went through all sorts of medical procedures in their efforts to become parents that I realised just how lucky I was.
The programme took me back to my own childhood when my Mum and Dad decided that they would like to foster children who were looking for a family until a suitable placement was found for them.
We had three babies who came to us in need of a safe haven. Two girls and a boy. The first arrival was Daniel who was about 4 months old. He was a delightful baby and very responsive. I don't know how long he stayed with us for...I would guess about 8 weeks or so....but, in that short space of time my Dad, and all of us but Dad in particular, grew to love the little lad. When it was time for Daniel to move on, I remember Dad being really upset.
We then had a little girl called Jeanette who I remember crying all the time. She didn't stay with us for long I don't think.
Then we had Julie who was a tiny baby. I believe she lived locally to us and her mother had died in childbirth. She was another adorable little thing but she was a baby and she was only with us for a short while.
I'm sure that Mum was the prime mover in the fostering thing. She was a nursery nurse and loved children and I'm sure that she wanted to do all she could for the children that needed help. Bearing in mind that she also had 3 youngish children of her own to look after, I think it was a very selfless thing to do.
As a consequence of the fostering, we later welcomed an older boy into our home. He was a year older than me so I was no longer the eldest. He came as another short term foster case and stayed....stayed a very long time in fact because he is now my big brother and has been so for the last 48 years or so!
So Mum (and Dad) did a great thing with their fostering experience and I am very proud of them both for setting such a great example to us. It certainly taught us not to take anything for granted in life that is for sure.
Onto fear and anxiety...very briefly you will be pleased to know!
Previous blog posts have alluded to my anxiety issues which have been prevalent in my life for more years than I care to remember. If there is something to worry about I will worry obsessively and if there is nothing to worry about I will find something. This, luckily, is only the case when I am feeling stressed or anxious. Unfortunately, that has been most of my adult life!
I have tried many many therapies and medications to alleviate my stress levels and nothing has really worked long term for me. However, I am currently taking a daily dose of antidepressants and I have to say that they are really working for me at the moment.
I knew I was feeling less stressed day to day because I wasn't facing every situation with a knot in my stomach and adrenalin pumping through my veins giving me palpitations. I am also very, very prone to 'blotching'.....bright red patches on my face, neck, arms and chest when I am stressed and anxious and it's a real giveaway sign. I get the same symptoms from drinking alcohol strangely enough!
Today saw me go to a routine GP appointment and I always, always get stressed when I'm in the waiting room at the surgery. By the time I am called into the doctor's room I am normally blotchy and embarrassed and a right old mess to be truthful. However, today I saw the doc and he asked me how I was and I said that I was feeling really good which is true. At the end of my appointment I was amazed to find that I didn't have a single blotch on me! This is a first. And I was wearing a short sleeved t shirt with a round neck so any blotches would have been very obvious. I said to the doc 'Look! No blotches!'. He smiled. He knows what an achievement that is.
Now, I'm not saying that anti depressants are the answer for everyone and I know that there are often underlying issues that need addressing and so on and so forth but, for me, they are helping enormously and I'm thrilled to be feeling so positive.
Happy days indeed!
Much love
xxxxxxx
Tuesday, 29 April 2014
Sunday, 27 April 2014
McBusted Mania and Cataract Concerns
Hi all,
Happy Sunday to you if you're reading this today and I hope you're having a wonderful weekend.
On Friday I went with two of my daughters to the o2 to see McBusted, a 'supergroup' of two bands, Mcfly and Busted, joined together as one - minus one member of Busted who is far too cool for any of that nonsense!
I will go to live music events whatever they are within reason and I saw no reason to not go to see this gig. My youngest daughter used to love Busted and she has seen McFly before and loved them. I used to really like the member of Busted who didn't want to part of the supergroup but I am partial to a bit of McFly as I sing along to the songs when I am at work bathing one of 'my' boys because he loves the songs too. In fact, he and I have our own little McFly playlist for shower time which starts with 'It's All About You', then goes into 'Lies' and ends with 'Love Never Dies'.
When the tour was announced I had a pleading call from my daughter almost begging me to get tickets and how could I refuse? Any excuse!
The three of us meet at the arena and sat for about 3 hours in a Brazilian restaurant and had lovely food and even lovelier cocktails and chatted about allsorts of stuff until it was time to find our seats.
We were, as seems usual for us, way up high in the arena....the sort of seats where you get vertigo if you stand up...but we had a great view of the stage and we were happy and excited as the start of the show got closer. There was a wonderful atmosphere in the place as start time approached. It was like going to a Take That concert back in the day.
The band arrived on stage in a DeLorean car accompanied by flashing lights, fireworks and explosions and we were off. It was brilliant I have to say. The show was slick, professional and full of incredible energy. The band took it in turns to take the lead vocal through a huge variety of their hits and, at one point, they emerged from the ceiling in a spaceship which hovered over the crowd while we all sang along to 'Star Girl'. I was impressed with the whole thing which I was surprised about to be honest. Would I go again? Absolutely yes.
We had a fairly uneventful trip home and caught the last train from Waterloo which was packed...SRO...and had more than it's fair share of inebriated and noisy people on board but that's the norm it seems. We got indoors at about 1 a.m., had a cuppa and then went to bed as I had an early start for a morning shift the next day.
The morning came round very quickly and I dragged my body into the shower, dressed, fed the dog and went to work.
Half way through my shift I had a phone call to say that my middle daughter, who had been experiencing deteriorating vision in one eye lately, had a suspected detached retina.
Both of my elder girls have a genetic condition which predisposes them to eye problems such as cataracts and detachments and we have been through a whole catalogue of eye problems with our eldest but this was the first of such issues for our middle girl.
It was decided that my hubby, bless him, would take her to Moorfields, the world renowned eye hospital in London, for a thorough assessment because we know that time is of the essence as far as retinal detachment is concerned. Sight can be saved by early intervention and sight can be lost by putting things off. It really is as basic as that.
After lots of tests, and nasty eye drops, it was concluded that the retinas on both eyes are intact and that the loss of vision in one eye is due to an unusual type of cataract that is growing quite rapidly. Massive relief all round for everyone, especially my daughter who has 3 youngsters to look after.
These sort of events used to be fairly regular occurrences for our family and it used to seem like hardly a week would go by without some drama or other and I would always go into meltdown and be very dramatic. I have to say that this time I was fine which was a real eye opener to me. I think there are several factors in my attitude this time:
a) daughter was very calm(on the outside at least)
b) I knew there was nothing I could do about it
c) I'm taking antidepressants for anxiety
If its the last of the three things, the tablets, I'm so glad that I'm taking them. I do feel generally much calmer and I don't spend so much time thinking 'what if...'. This is a huge step forward for me. Better late than never I know but a huge step none the less.
So, we will wait and see what today brings. Hopefully, peace and serenity....and a trip to see my father in law too!
Keep smiling everyone. Summer is on the way.
Much love
xxxxxx
Happy Sunday to you if you're reading this today and I hope you're having a wonderful weekend.
On Friday I went with two of my daughters to the o2 to see McBusted, a 'supergroup' of two bands, Mcfly and Busted, joined together as one - minus one member of Busted who is far too cool for any of that nonsense!
I will go to live music events whatever they are within reason and I saw no reason to not go to see this gig. My youngest daughter used to love Busted and she has seen McFly before and loved them. I used to really like the member of Busted who didn't want to part of the supergroup but I am partial to a bit of McFly as I sing along to the songs when I am at work bathing one of 'my' boys because he loves the songs too. In fact, he and I have our own little McFly playlist for shower time which starts with 'It's All About You', then goes into 'Lies' and ends with 'Love Never Dies'.
When the tour was announced I had a pleading call from my daughter almost begging me to get tickets and how could I refuse? Any excuse!
The three of us meet at the arena and sat for about 3 hours in a Brazilian restaurant and had lovely food and even lovelier cocktails and chatted about allsorts of stuff until it was time to find our seats.
We were, as seems usual for us, way up high in the arena....the sort of seats where you get vertigo if you stand up...but we had a great view of the stage and we were happy and excited as the start of the show got closer. There was a wonderful atmosphere in the place as start time approached. It was like going to a Take That concert back in the day.
The band arrived on stage in a DeLorean car accompanied by flashing lights, fireworks and explosions and we were off. It was brilliant I have to say. The show was slick, professional and full of incredible energy. The band took it in turns to take the lead vocal through a huge variety of their hits and, at one point, they emerged from the ceiling in a spaceship which hovered over the crowd while we all sang along to 'Star Girl'. I was impressed with the whole thing which I was surprised about to be honest. Would I go again? Absolutely yes.
We had a fairly uneventful trip home and caught the last train from Waterloo which was packed...SRO...and had more than it's fair share of inebriated and noisy people on board but that's the norm it seems. We got indoors at about 1 a.m., had a cuppa and then went to bed as I had an early start for a morning shift the next day.
The morning came round very quickly and I dragged my body into the shower, dressed, fed the dog and went to work.
Half way through my shift I had a phone call to say that my middle daughter, who had been experiencing deteriorating vision in one eye lately, had a suspected detached retina.
Both of my elder girls have a genetic condition which predisposes them to eye problems such as cataracts and detachments and we have been through a whole catalogue of eye problems with our eldest but this was the first of such issues for our middle girl.
It was decided that my hubby, bless him, would take her to Moorfields, the world renowned eye hospital in London, for a thorough assessment because we know that time is of the essence as far as retinal detachment is concerned. Sight can be saved by early intervention and sight can be lost by putting things off. It really is as basic as that.
After lots of tests, and nasty eye drops, it was concluded that the retinas on both eyes are intact and that the loss of vision in one eye is due to an unusual type of cataract that is growing quite rapidly. Massive relief all round for everyone, especially my daughter who has 3 youngsters to look after.
These sort of events used to be fairly regular occurrences for our family and it used to seem like hardly a week would go by without some drama or other and I would always go into meltdown and be very dramatic. I have to say that this time I was fine which was a real eye opener to me. I think there are several factors in my attitude this time:
a) daughter was very calm(on the outside at least)
b) I knew there was nothing I could do about it
c) I'm taking antidepressants for anxiety
If its the last of the three things, the tablets, I'm so glad that I'm taking them. I do feel generally much calmer and I don't spend so much time thinking 'what if...'. This is a huge step forward for me. Better late than never I know but a huge step none the less.
So, we will wait and see what today brings. Hopefully, peace and serenity....and a trip to see my father in law too!
Keep smiling everyone. Summer is on the way.
Much love
xxxxxx
Thursday, 24 April 2014
Fickle Football Fan
Evening all,
I trust you are all well. I am back in the routine of working odd hours, sleeping when I can and enjoying the sunshine when it's there.
Today I met up with two very dear friends who I have known since our school days. We're talking over 40 years! We have helped each other through many a drama and will continue to do so for as long as we can.
We met today at a local garden centre with the mums of both of my pals. Both of the mums are fantastic. I always smile when I meet them. The mums and their lovely daughters have been a very big part of my life for a very long time.
We chose our lunches - I had a sausage roll (bad) and salad (good) - and we all sat chatting about the latest goings on. We must have sat at the table for a couple of hours filling each other in on the latest developments with our children, our husbands and all of the usual 'girly' gossip. It was a lovely catch up and I'm meeting the girls next week too so that's something to look forward to.
Anyway, I was reminded today about the huge part that football has played in my life, purely as a spectator and a fan.
I first became interested in football and Liverpool FC in particular when I developed a huge crush on Kevin Keegan. I loved him and his curly perm! Or, at least, I think that's where it started. I know that Dad used to tease me because I always used to turn to the back pages of the newspaper to read the latest sports news before I read anything else.
I remember my first trip to a game. My stepdad agreed to take my best friend ( one of my lunch dates earlier today) and I to see Liverpool play Crystal Palace at Selhurst Park. It was an FA cup replay. We were so excited. We must have driven our chaperone crazy! Liverpool won the match but I was more thrilled because I had heard Kevin Keegan shouting to his colleague John Toshack. Yes indeed, I was overjoyed because I had heard my idol shouting. Deary me!
After that my love for Liverpool grew. It was in the glory days of Bob Paisley's reign when, at their height, the team were within touching distance of a treble - the FA Cup, the league and the European Cup.
I read every bit of news I could find on my team, I wrote to the players for autographs and was always thrilled when they replied. I still have the scrapbooks that I made chronicling that wonderful summer of 1977. I nagged my Dad into coming to Anfield with me for a midweek evening European cup match. The team won, Dad loved it, it was snowing and cold and we missed our train home but I was thrilled. I had finally been to Anfield.
Sadly Liverpool didn't claim the treble...they lost to Man Utd in the FA cup final...but history and memories were made when they picked themselves up from that defeat and won the European cup a few days later.
Fast forward a few years and I am now engaged to a die hard West Ham fan who humoured me with my LFC obsession and encouraged me to go to Upton Park with him occasionally. I loved it at Upton Park and it was so much easier to get to than Anfield! My allegiance to LFC began to fade much to the amusement of my family and friends and my obsession became West Ham which culminated in me going to see them beat Arsenal in the FA Cup final at Wembley. Trevor Brooking headed the only goal of the game after 9 minutes. It was an amazing day followed by an equally good trip to the East End the following day to see the cup being paraded through the streets of East London by the team on an open topped bus.
Then marriage and children and the priorities changed as is usually the case.
These days I have little interest in the game. I still get caught up in World Cups and so on because the family get so excited about it but the rest of it passes me by.
However, my eldest daughter is a Liverpool (and Jamie Redknapp) fan, the next daughter is claret and blue (West Ham) through and through (obsessed like her mother at times!), youngest daughter knows more about the game than I ever did and has a soft spot for WHU because she was taken there often as a youngster and my son is Man Utd like his Dad. Even the grandchildren have West Ham shirts that they wear on a regular basis and the eldest has already made a trip to Upton Park at the tender age of 4.
As Liverpool look set fair to win the premiership this season, 25 years after the Hillsborough disaster, I just wanted to mention that I remember that dreadful day with such clarity. As the scenes unfolded on TV I had to look away and the pictures that were printed in the papers of the suffering of some of the fans over the following days were just dreadful.
I was so moved by what had happened - let's face it, it could have been me there on the terraces for that game - that I decided to drive up to Liverpool and pay my respects to those that had lost their lives. My husband thought I was mad but I felt that I had to do it. Mum and my little brother and sister came with me. It was a long old drive there and back in a day but I was so glad that we went.
The images of the shrine that was Anfield were all over the newspapers as people queued for hours to lay flowers on the pitch and take a few moments to think about what had happened. People were also leaving scarves and shirts over the terracing on the Kop and I took my most treasured Liverpool FC possession, a European Cup winners scarf, and made my way to the Kop where I stood and looked at the incredible sight of the pitch being almost covered in floral tributes etc and I tied my scarf over the terracing and cried.
If, as expected, Liverpool do win the Premiership this season, what a fantastic tribute to the 96 who went to support their team on that fateful day in April 1989 and never went home again.
You'll never walk alone!!
Much love
xxxx
I trust you are all well. I am back in the routine of working odd hours, sleeping when I can and enjoying the sunshine when it's there.
Today I met up with two very dear friends who I have known since our school days. We're talking over 40 years! We have helped each other through many a drama and will continue to do so for as long as we can.
We met today at a local garden centre with the mums of both of my pals. Both of the mums are fantastic. I always smile when I meet them. The mums and their lovely daughters have been a very big part of my life for a very long time.
We chose our lunches - I had a sausage roll (bad) and salad (good) - and we all sat chatting about the latest goings on. We must have sat at the table for a couple of hours filling each other in on the latest developments with our children, our husbands and all of the usual 'girly' gossip. It was a lovely catch up and I'm meeting the girls next week too so that's something to look forward to.
Anyway, I was reminded today about the huge part that football has played in my life, purely as a spectator and a fan.
I first became interested in football and Liverpool FC in particular when I developed a huge crush on Kevin Keegan. I loved him and his curly perm! Or, at least, I think that's where it started. I know that Dad used to tease me because I always used to turn to the back pages of the newspaper to read the latest sports news before I read anything else.
I remember my first trip to a game. My stepdad agreed to take my best friend ( one of my lunch dates earlier today) and I to see Liverpool play Crystal Palace at Selhurst Park. It was an FA cup replay. We were so excited. We must have driven our chaperone crazy! Liverpool won the match but I was more thrilled because I had heard Kevin Keegan shouting to his colleague John Toshack. Yes indeed, I was overjoyed because I had heard my idol shouting. Deary me!
After that my love for Liverpool grew. It was in the glory days of Bob Paisley's reign when, at their height, the team were within touching distance of a treble - the FA Cup, the league and the European Cup.
I read every bit of news I could find on my team, I wrote to the players for autographs and was always thrilled when they replied. I still have the scrapbooks that I made chronicling that wonderful summer of 1977. I nagged my Dad into coming to Anfield with me for a midweek evening European cup match. The team won, Dad loved it, it was snowing and cold and we missed our train home but I was thrilled. I had finally been to Anfield.
Sadly Liverpool didn't claim the treble...they lost to Man Utd in the FA cup final...but history and memories were made when they picked themselves up from that defeat and won the European cup a few days later.
Fast forward a few years and I am now engaged to a die hard West Ham fan who humoured me with my LFC obsession and encouraged me to go to Upton Park with him occasionally. I loved it at Upton Park and it was so much easier to get to than Anfield! My allegiance to LFC began to fade much to the amusement of my family and friends and my obsession became West Ham which culminated in me going to see them beat Arsenal in the FA Cup final at Wembley. Trevor Brooking headed the only goal of the game after 9 minutes. It was an amazing day followed by an equally good trip to the East End the following day to see the cup being paraded through the streets of East London by the team on an open topped bus.
Then marriage and children and the priorities changed as is usually the case.
These days I have little interest in the game. I still get caught up in World Cups and so on because the family get so excited about it but the rest of it passes me by.
However, my eldest daughter is a Liverpool (and Jamie Redknapp) fan, the next daughter is claret and blue (West Ham) through and through (obsessed like her mother at times!), youngest daughter knows more about the game than I ever did and has a soft spot for WHU because she was taken there often as a youngster and my son is Man Utd like his Dad. Even the grandchildren have West Ham shirts that they wear on a regular basis and the eldest has already made a trip to Upton Park at the tender age of 4.
As Liverpool look set fair to win the premiership this season, 25 years after the Hillsborough disaster, I just wanted to mention that I remember that dreadful day with such clarity. As the scenes unfolded on TV I had to look away and the pictures that were printed in the papers of the suffering of some of the fans over the following days were just dreadful.
I was so moved by what had happened - let's face it, it could have been me there on the terraces for that game - that I decided to drive up to Liverpool and pay my respects to those that had lost their lives. My husband thought I was mad but I felt that I had to do it. Mum and my little brother and sister came with me. It was a long old drive there and back in a day but I was so glad that we went.
The images of the shrine that was Anfield were all over the newspapers as people queued for hours to lay flowers on the pitch and take a few moments to think about what had happened. People were also leaving scarves and shirts over the terracing on the Kop and I took my most treasured Liverpool FC possession, a European Cup winners scarf, and made my way to the Kop where I stood and looked at the incredible sight of the pitch being almost covered in floral tributes etc and I tied my scarf over the terracing and cried.
If, as expected, Liverpool do win the Premiership this season, what a fantastic tribute to the 96 who went to support their team on that fateful day in April 1989 and never went home again.
You'll never walk alone!!
Much love
xxxx
Tuesday, 22 April 2014
Disney Delights and Magical Musicals
Hi all,
I hope that you all had a very happy Easter break and that you are all well. I spent the holiday weekend with various family members, dog walking and eating and generally being a piggy. I suspect that I am not the only one!
One of the things I did over the holiday weekend was watch 'Saving Mr. Banks', a Disney film that I have wanted to watch for some time. The film is basically about P.L.Travers, the author of Mary Poppins, and her battle with Walt Disney about the rights to the book. It also touched on her early life and the traumas she and her family faced as they moved from town to town in Australia with her father who was her hero but also a drinker and who was frequently fired from jobs because of his problems.
I hope that you all had a very happy Easter break and that you are all well. I spent the holiday weekend with various family members, dog walking and eating and generally being a piggy. I suspect that I am not the only one!
One of the things I did over the holiday weekend was watch 'Saving Mr. Banks', a Disney film that I have wanted to watch for some time. The film is basically about P.L.Travers, the author of Mary Poppins, and her battle with Walt Disney about the rights to the book. It also touched on her early life and the traumas she and her family faced as they moved from town to town in Australia with her father who was her hero but also a drinker and who was frequently fired from jobs because of his problems.
Tom Hanks plays Walt Disney and Emma Thompson plays P.L.Travers and I have to say that I thought they were both superb. I'm not a film buff by any standards and I can always find other things to do than sit and watch a film but I enjoyed this so much that I watched it twice in as many days - once with my hubby and once with my youngest daughter and they both enjoyed it as much as me ....or they said that they did anyway!
This got me thinking about Disney and about musicals in general. As you may have read from earlier posts, music has always played a big part in my and my family's life. Mum and Dad had a large record collection and I vividly remember Mum having 'West Side Story', 'Oklahoma!', 'South Pacific', 'Mary Poppins', 'The King and I' and 'The Sound of Music' on vinyl along with many others and I remember them being played a lot. It's how my brothers and sisters learned the words to all of the songs!
There were four of us children, all close in age, when we were young and taking us all out for a trip was always expensive and so trips to the cinema were few and far between but Mum took us to see 'Mary Poppins' on several occasions and it was a real treat. She also took us to see 'Born Free' which was a whole different story. One for another time I think.
I still sing along when I hear ' I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out Of My Hair' or 'Shall We Dance?' and 'Let's Go Fly A Kite' always makes me feel happy inside. All of these things instilled in us when we were small that we just took for granted. The power of music.
This was brought home to me when my late mother in law was very poorly and communication with and for her was difficult. I went to spend an evening with her to give my father in law some respite and made up a CD with music that I thought she may like and that may make her smile. I put all sorts on there, in fact I think I still have the CD somewhere, but nothing really had the desired effect although she did smile when 'Bring Me Sunshine' by Morecambe and Wise came on which was lovely.
How different to when I made a tape for my Dad when he was poorly too. I poured for days over my song choices and what I was trying to achieve by doing it for him. I was so nervous about it that I posted it through his letterbox instead of giving it to him myself. He rang me up to thank me for it and I cried because he liked it. I guess that I always assumed that music was big in everyone's life just because it was and is big in mine. Never assume.
Now, enough about musicals and on to Disney, wonderful, glorious Disney. My love of Disney probably started with Mary Poppins (never just Mary, always Mary Poppins!) but, of course, there was Bambi and Snow White and so on. I was completely terrified by the witch in Snow White and used to dream that she was hiding under my bed and would grab me if I got up in the night. There was Alice in Wonderland that I didn't like and there was Sleeping Beauty (don't touch anything!) and, needless to say, I was scared of Maleficent too. Jungle Book was wonderful and I loved Lady and the Tramp and Robin Hood.
Then I had children and the joy of Disney returned with a vengeance and I saw my family mesmerised by Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and The Lion King. Now my grandchildren are equally enthralled by 101 Dalmations , Tangled and Frozen. The last two I know I must watch and soon so I know what the granddaughters are talking about!
My sisters and I (not sure about the brothers) have carried on Mum's tradition and our own children are fluent in the songs of the Disney films and some of the previously mentioned musicals. I don't think it's a deliberate thing. It's just what we do and I think it's fantastic. I fully expect the future generations of this family to keep the tradition going for many years to come. If 'The Sound of Music' is on TV we always watch it and ring or text each other to tell each other!
Oh, I could go on for hours and hours but I won't. I could talk about how I always, always cry at The Lion King and how Disney phrases have become standard phrases that we use in our family every day. I could talk about my youngest daughter sitting in her Little Mermaid pyjamas watching the dvd and knowing every single word of the film from start to finish or about her Princess Jasmine outfit that she lived in when she was given it for her birthday or her Simba lion cub that still has pride of place on her bed or her Lion king tent that she had and loved when she was 5....
....the fact that the family chose 'Eidelweis' to be played at Mum's funeral illustrates my point about the power of music and our love of musicals and there were so many others we could have chosen, that 'Climb Every Mountain' still makes me (and I suspect my sister too) cry...
but that's enough for now.
Stay healthy and happy and I'll be back soon!
Much love xxxxx
Saturday, 19 April 2014
Beach Hut Bliss
Well, I'm home after my week of 'work' and it feels like I've never been away already. I'm always surprised how quickly I get back into the normality of life after any time spent away. You know the kind of thing...go shopping, do the washing, make the beds, cook the tea, walk the dog! I honestly don't think that some members of my family think I work when I'm away but I can assure them that I do and it's hard work.
Anyway, many of you will know that we bought a beach hut at the end of last year and that we've had a few problems with it...a break in, storm damage etc. Today, as the weather was relatively nice, I had a need to go to the hut to see for myself how it's doing. The last time I saw it it was in need of a lot of running repairs. Luckily we have a local chap who has been able to do the repairs for us thus far as neither hubby or I are any good at DIY.
I haven't heard from my repair man since I asked him to do a little work for us to repair the hut after it had been moved by severe storms at the end of February and I wanted to see if he had done anything at all.
I need not have worried. He has already repaired the broken threshold and some of the cladding and has a galvanised bar to put across the front of the hut to add extra security.
However, since the hut has been moved back into it's original position, the floorboards have moved and the bottom of the hut has moved apart from the hut structure so that daylight is visible between the floorboards and the side of the hut. Hard to describe...sorry! So I need to get more repairs underway ASAP.
That aside, my afternoon at the hut was blissful. The weather was wonderful...blue skies and sunshine and very little wind which meant that, for the very first time, I was able to completely empty the hut and clean it and give it a little airing. I was totally in my element and just about the happiest I have felt in a long time.
When I'm at my hut I feel happy, relaxed and at home. I just feel that it's where I ought to be and I can't wait to spend more time down there. I can even take the dog whenever I like which is marvellous.
My daughter and I had a cup of tea and some biscuits while sitting on the breakwater and watched the yachts racing from the Isle of Wight. The sun shone on the water like diamonds and it was just perfect.
So it's the middle of the Easter weekend. Good Friday saw me travelling home from my week away and having a dozen hot cross buns bought for me on en route. Today has seen me at the hut and tomorrow sees us going on our annual Easter dog walk which usually takes place on Good Friday but had to be put off due to work commitments.
The dog walk dates right back to then 1960's when our family and other local friends would all meet up at a local area and we would walk with our dog Sparky. We have black and white photos of Dad up one of the trees with my brothers and sister and the dog is half way up the tree with them. The tree is still there and I have been on many Easter walks with my own children who have climbed the very same tree and I hope our grandchildren will have the same experience when they are old enough. I have not yet had another dog who will attempt to climb the tree. Maybe one day!
After our walk tomorrow I have a hastily arranged family roast dinner planned which required a last minute dash to the local supermarket and then I expect we will have a good chat about our planned trip to Florida in July which we still need to finalise. The flights are booked and a couple of eateries too but,as yet, I haven't booked the villa which is a bit worrying but which I hope to sort out this week.
Easter Monday remains unplanned at present but I may go to the hut again!
Happy Easter to you all and I hope you have a lovely weekend.
Much love and many thanks for reading this and sticking with me.
xxxxxx
Anyway, many of you will know that we bought a beach hut at the end of last year and that we've had a few problems with it...a break in, storm damage etc. Today, as the weather was relatively nice, I had a need to go to the hut to see for myself how it's doing. The last time I saw it it was in need of a lot of running repairs. Luckily we have a local chap who has been able to do the repairs for us thus far as neither hubby or I are any good at DIY.
I haven't heard from my repair man since I asked him to do a little work for us to repair the hut after it had been moved by severe storms at the end of February and I wanted to see if he had done anything at all.
I need not have worried. He has already repaired the broken threshold and some of the cladding and has a galvanised bar to put across the front of the hut to add extra security.
However, since the hut has been moved back into it's original position, the floorboards have moved and the bottom of the hut has moved apart from the hut structure so that daylight is visible between the floorboards and the side of the hut. Hard to describe...sorry! So I need to get more repairs underway ASAP.
That aside, my afternoon at the hut was blissful. The weather was wonderful...blue skies and sunshine and very little wind which meant that, for the very first time, I was able to completely empty the hut and clean it and give it a little airing. I was totally in my element and just about the happiest I have felt in a long time.
When I'm at my hut I feel happy, relaxed and at home. I just feel that it's where I ought to be and I can't wait to spend more time down there. I can even take the dog whenever I like which is marvellous.
My daughter and I had a cup of tea and some biscuits while sitting on the breakwater and watched the yachts racing from the Isle of Wight. The sun shone on the water like diamonds and it was just perfect.
So it's the middle of the Easter weekend. Good Friday saw me travelling home from my week away and having a dozen hot cross buns bought for me on en route. Today has seen me at the hut and tomorrow sees us going on our annual Easter dog walk which usually takes place on Good Friday but had to be put off due to work commitments.
The dog walk dates right back to then 1960's when our family and other local friends would all meet up at a local area and we would walk with our dog Sparky. We have black and white photos of Dad up one of the trees with my brothers and sister and the dog is half way up the tree with them. The tree is still there and I have been on many Easter walks with my own children who have climbed the very same tree and I hope our grandchildren will have the same experience when they are old enough. I have not yet had another dog who will attempt to climb the tree. Maybe one day!
After our walk tomorrow I have a hastily arranged family roast dinner planned which required a last minute dash to the local supermarket and then I expect we will have a good chat about our planned trip to Florida in July which we still need to finalise. The flights are booked and a couple of eateries too but,as yet, I haven't booked the villa which is a bit worrying but which I hope to sort out this week.
Easter Monday remains unplanned at present but I may go to the hut again!
Happy Easter to you all and I hope you have a lovely weekend.
Much love and many thanks for reading this and sticking with me.
xxxxxx
Wednesday, 16 April 2014
All The Small Things
Evening all,
I've been a bit quiet of late because I am on a 'working' holiday with one of 'my boys' and his Mum and Dad. We have been blessed with wonderful weather and have been having a great time. We have also eaten far too much as you do when you're on holiday...well, I do anyway!
We are attending Spring Harvest which I have never been to before. I would describe it as a gathering for Christians. There is lots to do for all ages throughout the day and it's been really interesting to see the wide range of folk who are attending this event which is spread over 3 weeks. There are families, couples, old people, youngsters and people on their own.
There are a variety of stalls selling all sorts of things...books, CD's, cards, jewellery, sweets and so on plus various Christian based charities promoting themselves. There is even a stall where you can buy a toilet! Well, actually I think you sponsor a toilet or twin it with your own or something. It's all quite impressive.
I have found it interesting to listen to the young people talking about their belief. Talking about it with joy and passion. I tend to associate churches as being full of older people and the lonely so it has been refreshing to hear the voices of the youngsters.
I have also, obviously, spent a lot of time with 'my' young man who I have worked on and off with for about 10 years or so. He is 18 years old next month so I have been in his life for some time. Poor lad! We have quite a bond, he and I, and I am really grateful for that.
I saw something today that I thought I should make a note of (or put as a note on my phone!) It was the phrase 'simple joys of life'.
This week I have realised quite how I take the 'simple joys of life' for granted. I suspect most of us do. Due to his disability, 'my' lad will never be able to speak, feed himself, walk or talk and yet he is one of the happiest, smiliest people I know. He and I have been for a walk along the seafront every evening this week and he has really loved it and so have I. Now, I have always loved the seaside but to hear a young man who has never walked on the sand laugh with pleasure just because he was being pushed along in his wheelchair by me has lifted my heart.
Sometimes my work as a carer can push me to extremes in many ways but when I have such positive experiences it always reminds me of why I do this work and why I probably always will....until someone needs to do it for me!
I used to think that my life was fraught and stressful but I have never felt hard done by. My experiences as a parent, despite there being quite a catalogue of medical emergencies and dramas, have been nothing compared to what some parents have had to cope with. Many of the families that I have worked with or for have had their whole lives turned upside down by one error or one faulty gene that they didn't know they carried. They probably, like me, assumed that their longed for baby would arrive into this world and all would be well. It's quite a shock when things don't go quite according to plan.
I think that those parents learned the hard way, like me, never to take anything for granted and that can change the way that you think about almost everything. It becomes second nature to look for the difficulty in any situation, to look for illness when there isn't one, to feel the need to fight for every single thing that ought to be a right and not a fight. It's very hard then to think clearly let alone appreciate the simple things in life.
Sometimes a sunny day, a favourite cake, an old movie or a walk along a seafront with a very happy, laughing vocal young man is all it takes to make you smile. Well, that's how it is for me and I hope that you all find something to make you smile and lift your spirits today.
Much love
xxxxxxx
I've been a bit quiet of late because I am on a 'working' holiday with one of 'my boys' and his Mum and Dad. We have been blessed with wonderful weather and have been having a great time. We have also eaten far too much as you do when you're on holiday...well, I do anyway!
We are attending Spring Harvest which I have never been to before. I would describe it as a gathering for Christians. There is lots to do for all ages throughout the day and it's been really interesting to see the wide range of folk who are attending this event which is spread over 3 weeks. There are families, couples, old people, youngsters and people on their own.
There are a variety of stalls selling all sorts of things...books, CD's, cards, jewellery, sweets and so on plus various Christian based charities promoting themselves. There is even a stall where you can buy a toilet! Well, actually I think you sponsor a toilet or twin it with your own or something. It's all quite impressive.
I have found it interesting to listen to the young people talking about their belief. Talking about it with joy and passion. I tend to associate churches as being full of older people and the lonely so it has been refreshing to hear the voices of the youngsters.
I have also, obviously, spent a lot of time with 'my' young man who I have worked on and off with for about 10 years or so. He is 18 years old next month so I have been in his life for some time. Poor lad! We have quite a bond, he and I, and I am really grateful for that.
I saw something today that I thought I should make a note of (or put as a note on my phone!) It was the phrase 'simple joys of life'.
This week I have realised quite how I take the 'simple joys of life' for granted. I suspect most of us do. Due to his disability, 'my' lad will never be able to speak, feed himself, walk or talk and yet he is one of the happiest, smiliest people I know. He and I have been for a walk along the seafront every evening this week and he has really loved it and so have I. Now, I have always loved the seaside but to hear a young man who has never walked on the sand laugh with pleasure just because he was being pushed along in his wheelchair by me has lifted my heart.
Sometimes my work as a carer can push me to extremes in many ways but when I have such positive experiences it always reminds me of why I do this work and why I probably always will....until someone needs to do it for me!
I used to think that my life was fraught and stressful but I have never felt hard done by. My experiences as a parent, despite there being quite a catalogue of medical emergencies and dramas, have been nothing compared to what some parents have had to cope with. Many of the families that I have worked with or for have had their whole lives turned upside down by one error or one faulty gene that they didn't know they carried. They probably, like me, assumed that their longed for baby would arrive into this world and all would be well. It's quite a shock when things don't go quite according to plan.
I think that those parents learned the hard way, like me, never to take anything for granted and that can change the way that you think about almost everything. It becomes second nature to look for the difficulty in any situation, to look for illness when there isn't one, to feel the need to fight for every single thing that ought to be a right and not a fight. It's very hard then to think clearly let alone appreciate the simple things in life.
Sometimes a sunny day, a favourite cake, an old movie or a walk along a seafront with a very happy, laughing vocal young man is all it takes to make you smile. Well, that's how it is for me and I hope that you all find something to make you smile and lift your spirits today.
Much love
xxxxxxx
Sunday, 13 April 2014
London Marathon Memories
Morning all,
Happy Sunday to you all.
Eight years ago I was given the fantastic opportunity of taking part in the Flora London Marathon, an event that I love to watch either on TV or on the streets of London. It's one of those occasions that raises the spirits and fills me with renewed enthusiasm to do good and have fun.
My flirtation with 'running'....and I use that word loosely as 'lumbering' may be a better description of my movements to me honest...started when I watched David Bedford taking part in televised long distance runs when I was young and I remember being mesmerised by Brendan Foster when he got a bronze medal for the 10,000 metre race in an Olympic Games. In fact, so smitten was I with Mr. Foster that I wrote to him and I was thrilled when I received a signed photo of him by return. I still have that photo somewhere.
Many of you will have heard of the annual Race For Life events that take place as a fundraising scheme for cancer charities and it was signing up for one of the early local races that really got me going. Although the race was 'only' 5k/3 miles, it was enough to get me training regularly and to feel motivated by the challenge. I recall that during my training for that event I suffered my first bout of shin splints...a condition that I had never heard of but which I now know a lot about!
Entering the Race For Life has now become a regular thing for me. I love the sense of camaraderie around the day and I am passionate about raising funds for cancer research despite the negative things that are often written about such charities. When cancer has touched your life you feel that you would do anything to prevent another person going through any of the heartache that is involved. I don't think I finish the event any quicker these days than I did when I first took part in a 5k but it's all about the taking part for me.
However, back to the London Marathon. I remember going to London in 1982 to watch my first marathon 'live'. It was so exciting and I loved everything about the day and I made myself a promise that, if I ever got the chance, I would take part in it. One for the bucket list.
That chance came when I decided to fund-raise for the school that one of 'my boys' went to...in fact, he still goes there! Having tried all of the usual ways to get a place in the race and being unsuccessful I contacted the school to see if they could help me in my quest. They had some places available but I had to guarantee to raise several thousand pounds and I knew that would be impossible for me. I was disappointed but realistic and thought that maybe I'd apply again the following year. Imagine my surprise when, a week or so later, the school rang me and said that they could offer me a place if I could guarantee to raise £500!! I knew that target was doable and I accepted their offer immediately. I was euphoric.
The reality of the situation became obvious once I got my training schedule and my new trainers. This was going to be a tough challenge but I was ready to take it on.
I was in my mid 40's then and had only trotted the odd 5 km. 26.2 miles was a whole different ball game but I stuck to my training schedule rigidly until I had to run 13 miles and that's when the shin problems started. Despite resting, icing, painkillers and so forth, the damage was done and 13 miles was the furthest I was able to run in my training sessions.
Fast forward to the big day and the prospect of running 26 miles when the most I had ever done was 13 was daunting. There was little sleep the night before despite being put up in a posh hotel in the city for the night ahead of the race. I was prepared re kit, race numbers, and so on but I was terrified of letting myself and all of my family and friends down, not to mention the children at the school that I was running for.
Adrenaline can be a wonderful thing and it's exactly that and my sheer bloody-minded Taurean stubbornness that got me through the day. It was as thrilling and exciting as I had imagined it would be to stand at the start line of The London Marathon and I will never forget the experience. It didn't matter that the weather was bad, it only mattered that I was there and achieving one of my ambitions in life.
At various points of the route family members would pop up unexpectedly and cheer me on. It was such a thrill to see them. I remember seeing my sister at about 19 miles when I didn't think i could make it to the finish line. She gave me a hug and told me that I'd be fine and I was rejuvenated. My kids had made banners for me which were fantastic and,despite everything, I did make it to the end and I did get my finishers medal. My time wasn't great but that didn't matter, I had made it and I had raised over £1000 in the process.
I will never be able to put into words my feelings after the race. Delirium, exhaustion, elation, confusion, euphoria.....all I know is that it was one of the best days of my life and I'll never forget it.
So, today when the runners are lining up for the race to start, I'll be with them all in my heart. They will hear the 'Chariots of Fire' theme tune as they embark on their challenge of competing in one of the best sporting events in the world. I will be envious, especially as I doubt that I will ever take part again myself but you never know. Never say never!!
Have a great day everyone.
Much love
xxxx
Happy Sunday to you all.
Eight years ago I was given the fantastic opportunity of taking part in the Flora London Marathon, an event that I love to watch either on TV or on the streets of London. It's one of those occasions that raises the spirits and fills me with renewed enthusiasm to do good and have fun.
My flirtation with 'running'....and I use that word loosely as 'lumbering' may be a better description of my movements to me honest...started when I watched David Bedford taking part in televised long distance runs when I was young and I remember being mesmerised by Brendan Foster when he got a bronze medal for the 10,000 metre race in an Olympic Games. In fact, so smitten was I with Mr. Foster that I wrote to him and I was thrilled when I received a signed photo of him by return. I still have that photo somewhere.
Many of you will have heard of the annual Race For Life events that take place as a fundraising scheme for cancer charities and it was signing up for one of the early local races that really got me going. Although the race was 'only' 5k/3 miles, it was enough to get me training regularly and to feel motivated by the challenge. I recall that during my training for that event I suffered my first bout of shin splints...a condition that I had never heard of but which I now know a lot about!
Entering the Race For Life has now become a regular thing for me. I love the sense of camaraderie around the day and I am passionate about raising funds for cancer research despite the negative things that are often written about such charities. When cancer has touched your life you feel that you would do anything to prevent another person going through any of the heartache that is involved. I don't think I finish the event any quicker these days than I did when I first took part in a 5k but it's all about the taking part for me.
However, back to the London Marathon. I remember going to London in 1982 to watch my first marathon 'live'. It was so exciting and I loved everything about the day and I made myself a promise that, if I ever got the chance, I would take part in it. One for the bucket list.
That chance came when I decided to fund-raise for the school that one of 'my boys' went to...in fact, he still goes there! Having tried all of the usual ways to get a place in the race and being unsuccessful I contacted the school to see if they could help me in my quest. They had some places available but I had to guarantee to raise several thousand pounds and I knew that would be impossible for me. I was disappointed but realistic and thought that maybe I'd apply again the following year. Imagine my surprise when, a week or so later, the school rang me and said that they could offer me a place if I could guarantee to raise £500!! I knew that target was doable and I accepted their offer immediately. I was euphoric.
The reality of the situation became obvious once I got my training schedule and my new trainers. This was going to be a tough challenge but I was ready to take it on.
I was in my mid 40's then and had only trotted the odd 5 km. 26.2 miles was a whole different ball game but I stuck to my training schedule rigidly until I had to run 13 miles and that's when the shin problems started. Despite resting, icing, painkillers and so forth, the damage was done and 13 miles was the furthest I was able to run in my training sessions.
Fast forward to the big day and the prospect of running 26 miles when the most I had ever done was 13 was daunting. There was little sleep the night before despite being put up in a posh hotel in the city for the night ahead of the race. I was prepared re kit, race numbers, and so on but I was terrified of letting myself and all of my family and friends down, not to mention the children at the school that I was running for.
Adrenaline can be a wonderful thing and it's exactly that and my sheer bloody-minded Taurean stubbornness that got me through the day. It was as thrilling and exciting as I had imagined it would be to stand at the start line of The London Marathon and I will never forget the experience. It didn't matter that the weather was bad, it only mattered that I was there and achieving one of my ambitions in life.
At various points of the route family members would pop up unexpectedly and cheer me on. It was such a thrill to see them. I remember seeing my sister at about 19 miles when I didn't think i could make it to the finish line. She gave me a hug and told me that I'd be fine and I was rejuvenated. My kids had made banners for me which were fantastic and,despite everything, I did make it to the end and I did get my finishers medal. My time wasn't great but that didn't matter, I had made it and I had raised over £1000 in the process.
I will never be able to put into words my feelings after the race. Delirium, exhaustion, elation, confusion, euphoria.....all I know is that it was one of the best days of my life and I'll never forget it.
So, today when the runners are lining up for the race to start, I'll be with them all in my heart. They will hear the 'Chariots of Fire' theme tune as they embark on their challenge of competing in one of the best sporting events in the world. I will be envious, especially as I doubt that I will ever take part again myself but you never know. Never say never!!
Have a great day everyone.
Much love
xxxx
Friday, 11 April 2014
Music Was My First Love .......Springsteen/Turner et al
Good afternoon.
I hope you are all well and that the sun is shining on you wherever you are.
Music, music, music. Where would we be without it? Music has the power to lift our spirits, to speak for us when we can't find the words, to heal us in times of need and to remind us of happy/sad times in our lives.
Music has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. From singing in the choir at primary school...where I also learned to play the recorder and the piano amongst other things (but not the cello which was what I really wanted to learn) to listening to my parents playing music long into the night to concerts and festivals.
Mum was very keen for all of us children to have some kind of musical experience when we were young. As I mentioned, I played a couple of instruments and sang in various choirs, my sister did similar and my brother sang in the local church choir and the drama group when they put on a production of The Sound of Music.
I was never quite sure why Mum felt so strongly about it but I later heard that my paternal grandmother had been a music teacher and I think that may have been an influence. Certainly, I don't recall either Mum or Dad playing an instrument but Dad did like to belt out a few tunes when he was having a bath! It makes me smile when I think about that. He used to sing really loudly and we could hear him when we were playing outside!
When we were teenagers, there were fairly regular parties and gatherings at our house that various people would come to and music was always involved. It was from these get togethers that I first heard the music of Tom Paxton, Cat Stevens, Bob Dylan, The Moody Blues, Elton John, Bowie and many, many more.
I have a very vivid memory of Mum being so excited when she got a copy of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the Elton John album. I think it may have been a triple album but I'm not too sure. All I remember is that the album was played over and over again and all of us soon knew all the words to almost every track.
We thought that everyone's musical experience was the same as ours and I remember being really surprised when friends of mine had never heard Tea For The Tillerman, a brilliant album by the wonderful Cat Stevens.
Of course, there was my teenage years when I became obsessed with The Osmonds and Donny in particular. I joined the fan club and wrote many letters to my idols. I had posters on my bedroom wall and a particularly gorgeous one of Donny on the ceiling above my bed. I used to say 'goodnight' to him every night before I went to sleep.
Friends as school knew about The Osmonds and David Cassidy and The Jacksons which made a nice change. We could share magazines containing stories of our chosen ones, we could fantasize about what we would say if we ever met them.
From then on my journey into the music world became one of concerts. I would go to the local civic hall where I saw Genesis, Pilot (Oh,ho, ho it's magic, you know....!), Gary Numan, The Boomtown Rats, The Undertones and The Police to name a few. I also saw a band called The Streetwalkers which was fronted by Roger Chapman. They were promoting the album called Red Card and they were fantastic. I still have the album on vinyl (which I can't play because I don't have a record player anymore) and it's not available on iTunes which is a bit rubbish.
We then started going to London. Rod Stewart, Billy Joel, Elton John, George Michael, Howard Jones, Def Leppard and many more. A shortish break while I had children and then we were off again and, as the children grew, their love of music, probably drummed into them by our own late night music sessions, grew too.
Green Day, Linkin Park, Bon Jovi, The Prodigy,U2, Coldplay, Robbie Williams, Take That....some or all of the kids have been with us to many of these gigs and it's been wonderful.
My biggest discovery, encouraged in a huge way by my husband, has been the music of Bruce Springsteen. When we got together, my view of The Boss was that he was just another overhyped American musician who would never really make it over here simply because he was 'too American'!! Born in the USA was really the only Springsteen song that I knew. Boy, was I wrong!!
I think, to date, we have seen Springsteen and/or the E Street Band about 30 times, mostly in England but also in Spain and it has always been a life affirming experience. The awesomeness of the man has to be seen to be believed and many of my very best memories have involved him or his music in some way.
I recall being at the old Wembley Stadium and dancing on the pitch with my brother in law to Twist and Shout. I remember being so close to Bruce in the Albert Hall that I could see the sweat dripping from the ends of his fingers while he played. I've lost my voice through singing so loudly at his shows more times than I can remember, I've been reduced to tears many, many times by incredibly poignant renditions of his songs and I will never, ever forget the first time that I saw the band play Jungleland. It was breathtaking. There was a wonderful night at the cricket ground in Manchester where my youngest sister joined us for her first Bruce experience and an evening at the Arsenal football ground where all of our children finally got see Bruce and the band in all their glory.
There isn't much else to say about Mr Springsteen except...believe the hype and if you ever get the chance to see him just do it. He will not let you down.
Finally, a fairly recent discovery has been the super talented, all round genius that is Mr.Frank Turner. We first stumbled across Frank at the Cambridge Folk Festival a few years ago and we were mesmerised by him. His passion for his craft was obvious throughout his performance and we were hooked. We have subsequently seen him a few more times and have never been disappointed. In a lot of ways he reminds us (hubby and I) of a young Springsteen... poetic with his use of words, energetic and enthusiastic with his musicianship and an all round nice guy. Yet again, many people that we talk to about Mr Turner have never heard of him so we keep spreading the word. I'm hopeful of going to Kendal Calling this summer so I can get my Frank fix. It's been too long!!
Long live rock and roll.....and every other kind of music that lifts our hearts and makes us happy!
Much love
xxxxx
I hope you are all well and that the sun is shining on you wherever you are.
Music, music, music. Where would we be without it? Music has the power to lift our spirits, to speak for us when we can't find the words, to heal us in times of need and to remind us of happy/sad times in our lives.
Music has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. From singing in the choir at primary school...where I also learned to play the recorder and the piano amongst other things (but not the cello which was what I really wanted to learn) to listening to my parents playing music long into the night to concerts and festivals.
Mum was very keen for all of us children to have some kind of musical experience when we were young. As I mentioned, I played a couple of instruments and sang in various choirs, my sister did similar and my brother sang in the local church choir and the drama group when they put on a production of The Sound of Music.
I was never quite sure why Mum felt so strongly about it but I later heard that my paternal grandmother had been a music teacher and I think that may have been an influence. Certainly, I don't recall either Mum or Dad playing an instrument but Dad did like to belt out a few tunes when he was having a bath! It makes me smile when I think about that. He used to sing really loudly and we could hear him when we were playing outside!
When we were teenagers, there were fairly regular parties and gatherings at our house that various people would come to and music was always involved. It was from these get togethers that I first heard the music of Tom Paxton, Cat Stevens, Bob Dylan, The Moody Blues, Elton John, Bowie and many, many more.
I have a very vivid memory of Mum being so excited when she got a copy of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the Elton John album. I think it may have been a triple album but I'm not too sure. All I remember is that the album was played over and over again and all of us soon knew all the words to almost every track.
We thought that everyone's musical experience was the same as ours and I remember being really surprised when friends of mine had never heard Tea For The Tillerman, a brilliant album by the wonderful Cat Stevens.
Of course, there was my teenage years when I became obsessed with The Osmonds and Donny in particular. I joined the fan club and wrote many letters to my idols. I had posters on my bedroom wall and a particularly gorgeous one of Donny on the ceiling above my bed. I used to say 'goodnight' to him every night before I went to sleep.
Friends as school knew about The Osmonds and David Cassidy and The Jacksons which made a nice change. We could share magazines containing stories of our chosen ones, we could fantasize about what we would say if we ever met them.
From then on my journey into the music world became one of concerts. I would go to the local civic hall where I saw Genesis, Pilot (Oh,ho, ho it's magic, you know....!), Gary Numan, The Boomtown Rats, The Undertones and The Police to name a few. I also saw a band called The Streetwalkers which was fronted by Roger Chapman. They were promoting the album called Red Card and they were fantastic. I still have the album on vinyl (which I can't play because I don't have a record player anymore) and it's not available on iTunes which is a bit rubbish.
We then started going to London. Rod Stewart, Billy Joel, Elton John, George Michael, Howard Jones, Def Leppard and many more. A shortish break while I had children and then we were off again and, as the children grew, their love of music, probably drummed into them by our own late night music sessions, grew too.
Green Day, Linkin Park, Bon Jovi, The Prodigy,U2, Coldplay, Robbie Williams, Take That....some or all of the kids have been with us to many of these gigs and it's been wonderful.
My biggest discovery, encouraged in a huge way by my husband, has been the music of Bruce Springsteen. When we got together, my view of The Boss was that he was just another overhyped American musician who would never really make it over here simply because he was 'too American'!! Born in the USA was really the only Springsteen song that I knew. Boy, was I wrong!!
I think, to date, we have seen Springsteen and/or the E Street Band about 30 times, mostly in England but also in Spain and it has always been a life affirming experience. The awesomeness of the man has to be seen to be believed and many of my very best memories have involved him or his music in some way.
I recall being at the old Wembley Stadium and dancing on the pitch with my brother in law to Twist and Shout. I remember being so close to Bruce in the Albert Hall that I could see the sweat dripping from the ends of his fingers while he played. I've lost my voice through singing so loudly at his shows more times than I can remember, I've been reduced to tears many, many times by incredibly poignant renditions of his songs and I will never, ever forget the first time that I saw the band play Jungleland. It was breathtaking. There was a wonderful night at the cricket ground in Manchester where my youngest sister joined us for her first Bruce experience and an evening at the Arsenal football ground where all of our children finally got see Bruce and the band in all their glory.
There isn't much else to say about Mr Springsteen except...believe the hype and if you ever get the chance to see him just do it. He will not let you down.
Finally, a fairly recent discovery has been the super talented, all round genius that is Mr.Frank Turner. We first stumbled across Frank at the Cambridge Folk Festival a few years ago and we were mesmerised by him. His passion for his craft was obvious throughout his performance and we were hooked. We have subsequently seen him a few more times and have never been disappointed. In a lot of ways he reminds us (hubby and I) of a young Springsteen... poetic with his use of words, energetic and enthusiastic with his musicianship and an all round nice guy. Yet again, many people that we talk to about Mr Turner have never heard of him so we keep spreading the word. I'm hopeful of going to Kendal Calling this summer so I can get my Frank fix. It's been too long!!
Long live rock and roll.....and every other kind of music that lifts our hearts and makes us happy!
Much love
xxxxx
Thursday, 10 April 2014
Poems And The Past
Hi again you lovely people and thank you for taking the time to have a look at my latest post.
I wasn't going to write anything today. I'm never sure whether I post too often and I am aware of driving everyone nuts with my constant reminders so, if you are one of those people, I apologise! I don't want anyone to feel that they have to read any of my ramblings.
The reason for this post is that I was listening to Jeremy Vine on Radio 2 and making a yoghurt cake (as you do on your day off) when he had a section about poetry and , in particular, about poetry that can move men to tears. Several listeners got in contact with him and many were not able to read their chosen poem out loud because they would become too distressed. The power of words, eh?
I have never been an avid reader. If a book doesn't grab me after the first few pages then there is no way that I would feel compelled to read on but I have always loved words and language. I have written many poems over the years that have served as a release valve for my emotions.
I remember writing a lot after the death of my parents and also after the deaths of several people that I have worked with and cared for. In fact, one of the ladies who I used to visit gave me a book on poetry that I have cherished. It is a collection of the 'best' poems and there are some absolute crackers in it.
There is one by Christina Rossetti which is so powerful. It's called 'Remember' and I'll post a copy of it at the end of this entry. Rossetti also wrote the words that the Christmas carol 'In The Bleak Mid Winter' is based on and that has always been my favourite carol. The words are so beautiful and that carol can reduce me to tears.
After listening to that piece on the radio, I was reminded of the verses and so on that I have written. I usually keep a rough copy of what I write and the good version goes to the person that I am sending it to. However, when I went upstairs in search of my literary creations I realised that I had no idea where I had put them.
Now, our house is quite compact and storage space is at a premium so there are only a few places where I can put things away for safekeeping but I can't find them anywhere at the moment which is really annoying.
However, during my brief search, I did find a whole stack of diaries from years gone by and I thought that perhaps I had stored the poems in the relevant year/diary. That would have been a very good idea but, frustratingly for me, they weren't there. What WAS there was a letter from my Mum that I had forgotten all about! So I sat on the bed and re-read her words. They were words of explanation, words of regret and words of truth. Once again, the power of the written word. I obviously kept that letter for a reason and I also kept with it the rough copy of my reply to her which was actually quite reasonable and calm for me. It did me good to read the letters again and it was lovely just to see Mum's handwriting. I could almost hear her saying the words to me. If only that were possible.
So, I expect the rest of the afternoon will involve me trawling through boxes and cupboards in search of my old scribblings and notes. I'm sure there are a million and one other things that I could or should be doing but they will have to wait for now. I actually find it very therapeutic to look back at old letters and photographs. I am aware that it's a sure sign of getting older!
I'll sign off for now with the promised poem. If you haven't read it before I do hope you approve and if you know the poem already I hope you enjoy reading it again. It's powerful.....
I wasn't going to write anything today. I'm never sure whether I post too often and I am aware of driving everyone nuts with my constant reminders so, if you are one of those people, I apologise! I don't want anyone to feel that they have to read any of my ramblings.
The reason for this post is that I was listening to Jeremy Vine on Radio 2 and making a yoghurt cake (as you do on your day off) when he had a section about poetry and , in particular, about poetry that can move men to tears. Several listeners got in contact with him and many were not able to read their chosen poem out loud because they would become too distressed. The power of words, eh?
I have never been an avid reader. If a book doesn't grab me after the first few pages then there is no way that I would feel compelled to read on but I have always loved words and language. I have written many poems over the years that have served as a release valve for my emotions.
I remember writing a lot after the death of my parents and also after the deaths of several people that I have worked with and cared for. In fact, one of the ladies who I used to visit gave me a book on poetry that I have cherished. It is a collection of the 'best' poems and there are some absolute crackers in it.
There is one by Christina Rossetti which is so powerful. It's called 'Remember' and I'll post a copy of it at the end of this entry. Rossetti also wrote the words that the Christmas carol 'In The Bleak Mid Winter' is based on and that has always been my favourite carol. The words are so beautiful and that carol can reduce me to tears.
After listening to that piece on the radio, I was reminded of the verses and so on that I have written. I usually keep a rough copy of what I write and the good version goes to the person that I am sending it to. However, when I went upstairs in search of my literary creations I realised that I had no idea where I had put them.
Now, our house is quite compact and storage space is at a premium so there are only a few places where I can put things away for safekeeping but I can't find them anywhere at the moment which is really annoying.
However, during my brief search, I did find a whole stack of diaries from years gone by and I thought that perhaps I had stored the poems in the relevant year/diary. That would have been a very good idea but, frustratingly for me, they weren't there. What WAS there was a letter from my Mum that I had forgotten all about! So I sat on the bed and re-read her words. They were words of explanation, words of regret and words of truth. Once again, the power of the written word. I obviously kept that letter for a reason and I also kept with it the rough copy of my reply to her which was actually quite reasonable and calm for me. It did me good to read the letters again and it was lovely just to see Mum's handwriting. I could almost hear her saying the words to me. If only that were possible.
So, I expect the rest of the afternoon will involve me trawling through boxes and cupboards in search of my old scribblings and notes. I'm sure there are a million and one other things that I could or should be doing but they will have to wait for now. I actually find it very therapeutic to look back at old letters and photographs. I am aware that it's a sure sign of getting older!
I'll sign off for now with the promised poem. If you haven't read it before I do hope you approve and if you know the poem already I hope you enjoy reading it again. It's powerful.....
Remember
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
xxxxxxxxx
Wednesday, 9 April 2014
Pampered Pets and Darling Dogs
Morning all.
It's a beautiful day outside and I'm ashamed to say I have only just dragged myself out of bed. I really wish there was a reset button for the body clock like there is on mobile phones! I know that the irregular hours that I work aren't helping but sometimes I would give anything to sleep a solid 8 hours without waking up for some reason or another.
I think the last time I slept for that amount of time without waking was after I had a knee op about a year ago. I remember going home about 4 hours after the surgery and going to bed that night - bizarrely feeling high as a kite due to the anesthesia and laughing out loud to myself because I felt so 'happy' - and remembering nothing until the next morning. Now, I'm not advocating surgery to aid sleep but it was an odd experience.
Recently I have tinkered with various teas, lavender oils, herbal remedies and Nytol One A Night. I think they all work after a fashion although the Nytol gives me very vivid dreams. I have found what helps me best is deep breathing. Usually 4 -6 deep breaths is enough to make me drowsy. Unfortunately, it's not enough to keep me asleep and as soon as I wake up my mind starts ticking over about the day before or the day ahead and I'm back to square one again.
I have always been able to catnap during the afternoon if I have the opportunity so and that is a blessing. I think I inherited that trait from Nan and Mum! Nan used to 'grab 40 winks' in her chair in the afternoon and Mum used to be able to doze on the sofa after lunch and before going to pick up the children from school. I've always felt a bit guilty about sleeping in the daytime but theses days I sleep if I get the chance!
That aside, I was going to write about music and then I thought about family pets - both subjects are close to my heart- so I've decided on pets. I hope at least some of you may want to read on.
So, pets and family go hand in hand to me. What I mean by that is that I can't remember a time in my life when there wasn't a beloved family pet (or 3) as part of the family, either when I was a child or when I had children of my own.
When I was a child my first recollection of a family pet was a cat called Billy. He was a bit wild I think...used to go out all night and sleep all day, that kind of cat....and I only remember he caught a vole and ate it and then threw up on the sofa and what he threw up was riddled with maggots. Disgusting. Shortly after that he was put to sleep but I have no idea if the two events were connected. I think they were but I don't know how.
We had a white rabbit called Ricky (died after surgery, in our front room under the sideboard), I had a tortoise called Terry (lived for a year and used to get into next doors garden and eat their lettuce), there was a female ferret called Bruce (had loads of babies and used to escape from the cage and Dad used to have to chase her round the garden to try to catch her), a black rat called Ben who I was scared of ( had a big tumour and was put to sleep), 3 goldfish called Rollo, Polo and Toffo who we won at the fair and lived for ages (always arguements about whose turn it was to clean them out) and two other rabbits that were given to my sister, Misty and Thumper. Misty was the female and quite spiteful, Thumper was male, chocolate brown and adorable. They had several litters of bunnies which were all killed by my cat which was pretty horrendous to be honest. We just opened our bedroom curtains one morning and saw little bundles of fur dotted about. Each bundle of fur was a bunny. It was horrible.
The culprit for the massacre was my cat Twizzle. We also had a cat called Twinkle but we didn't think it was in Twinkle's nature to do such a thing. She was a very docile cuddly cat where as Twizzle was a bit wild. Twizzle was beautiful to look at. She was a tortoiseshell. She was also a killer and often used to bring bits of animals home for us which I hated. I still have a phobia about dead birds and mice etc but birds in particular. Both cats lived for a very long time and they were a big part of our childhood but the star of the show was Sparky.
Sparky was our mongrel dog who we all loved with all our hearts. He was a bit of a scruff and he was a bit of a wanderer but we adored him. He was always there, he was just part of the family. He used to escape from the garden and roam up and down the road raiding peoples dustbins which upset a few neighbours. He used to come on holidays with us. We used to make up plays and shows in the school holidays which he would always have a part in. He was part of the family and that was that.
Sparky was really Dad's dog I think. Dad was the one who used to walk him every night and it was always Dad that he would want to sit near ...or on if he got the chance!
As had to happen, Spark got old and frail. We found him one morning on the front door step unable to move his back legs. I'm not sure if he was already dying then, I can't remember, but I know that was about the end for him. The next thing I remember is Mum coming to our house because we were all so upset because Sparky had died. It was like losing a friend.
I vividly remember Dad digging a 'grave' for him at the top of the garden. All of us watched from the bedroom window as Dad carried Sparky's lifeless body up the garden path. Dad was talking to Spark all the time he was doing it and I remember we all just sat looking out of the window and sobbing uncontrollably. Sad, sad times.
Fast forward to my own family and we have had a selection of pets over the years too. I don't suppose I can remember them all (the kids will kill me!) but there was Sooty, a wonderful rabbit from the RSPCA, there was another (nasty) rabbit called Fudge who I still have nightmares about, then several guinea pigs....Hope and Heidi and one more whose name escapes me. We got Hope about the time of the Dunblane massacre where there was a horrendous shooting in a school and lots of young children and many teachers were murdered. Hope was named Hope because my children wanted there to be something positive to remember about that time. I remember thinking what a lovely thought that was. Hope was a noisy little thing and I loved her. I still think about her and often think about getting another guinea pig because of her. She was just lovely. Then, after a lot of consideration and many family chats, we decided to get a dog.
Welcome to the family Monty. Monty was a Jack Russell cross and he was fantastic. He was boisterous and bouncy, very intelligent and very loving. He settled in with us very quickly and the kids loved him. He used to sleep in their beds because he was small enough to and we all just loved him like you when you have a family dog.
Monty was born on my Mum's birthday which always made us feel as if he was destined to be with us and we envisaged many happy times with him in our family. Sadly that was not to be. During the Easter break when Monty was 2 years old, hubby and kiddies all took him for a walk by the river. I stayed at home to wash my hair and get dinner ready. The phone rang, I answered and it was a man asking if I had a dog called Monty. I said yes and assumed that he had found him. Sadly, the man was calling to say that he had just run Monty over and he was dead. Oh, it was dreadful. I rang hubby to tell him. He said that the children were all searching for the dog and wouldn't come home without him so he had to tell them what had happened. He said afterwards that it's one of the worst things he's had to do because the kids were devastated once they knew what had happened and they all dropped to the ground crying and screaming.
In the meantime, the man who had run Monty over had brought our little doggy home to us wrapped in a blanket. The guy hadn't stood a chance as Monty had been spooked by a loud noise while out walking and had tried to run back to the car which was parked on the other side of the road. He just ran right out in front of the traffic.
We have Monty in our garden buried under a flowering bush. We can see him from our kitchen window and we often light candles around him in the summer. He will always be a happy memory in our family history. much like Charlie.
Charlie, our lovely, soppy, handsome Charlie. We got Charlie a few months after Monty had died. Our family didn't seem complete without a dog. I saw an advert in the vets window and went to meet this 4 month old noisy Labrador puppy who had been returned to the breeder because he was so loud and barked all the time. I knew, as soon as I saw him, that Charlie belonged with us. Once again, he fitted into our family straight away. He used to chew things all the time when he was young...remote controls, cameras, lampstands, shoes, you name it...and he got a fair few tellings off along the way but he grew up and calmed down and was just our Charlie.
Charlie was 10 years old when he became unwell. I knew there was something wrong with him but I didn't know what it was. He was still wanting walks, he was still eating but he wasn't well. In hindsight, I should have taken him to the vets straight away like my heart was telling me to but nobody else seemed to think it was that important. Then, one morning, Charlie started to be sick and he couldn't get downstairs. I knew this wasn't good. I had to go to work but decided that, as soon as I got home, I was going to take him to the vets.
When I got home I knew it was too late. Charlie was nowhere to be found. I called him and called him, my heart pounding wildly because I didn't know what I was going to find. Then I heard the most awful howl. I ran into the garden and found Charlie round the side of the house unable to move. He looked so sad.
He couldn't stand up and I was too scared to lift him so hubby and I got a neighbour to help us lift Charlie into the back of the car. I felt sure that he was going to die en route to the vets but when we got their he jumped out of the back of the car unaided and walked into the vets. Usually I couldn't drag him into the vets. He hated it there.
The vet took one look at our handsome boy and shook his head and said 'He's a very poorly dog. I think he has heart worm'. That didn't mean anything to us but we assumed that that meant he could offer some kind of treatment. He looked at Charlie's gums. They were white. He had internal bleeding. The vet said there was nothing he could do and that the kindest thing would be to put our lovely boy out of his misery. He left us alone to say our goodbyes. Anyone who has been in a similar situation will know just how heartbreaking it is. Our lovely, handsome Charlie was laying on the vets bed and we had to say goodbye. Hubby and I were heartbroken and unable to speak. Charlie laid there looking at us as we stroked him and kissed his head and told him what am anazing friend and family member he had been and how much we were going to miss him...oh,crikey, I'm crying now when I think about it. I cradled Charlie's head in my hands and breathed in the smell of him. I can still remember it today. He looked at us as if to say 'It's OK. I've got to go'. He wasn't scared. Hubby stayed with him while the vet gave the injection but I couldn't bear to see it. And that was it. Our Charlie, Sir Charles, Charley Farley, was no more.
We had him cremated and later scattered his ashes at the site of one of his favourite walks. We all went and we all had our own thoughts as we said our final farewell.
And now we have Harvey who is a whole different story!
Well, that's enough for now I think. I'm still feeling a bit teary and emotional so I'd better go and get a cup of tea and stroke Harvey and tell him how much we all love him.
Have a happy day one and all.
Much love
xxxxxxxxx
It's a beautiful day outside and I'm ashamed to say I have only just dragged myself out of bed. I really wish there was a reset button for the body clock like there is on mobile phones! I know that the irregular hours that I work aren't helping but sometimes I would give anything to sleep a solid 8 hours without waking up for some reason or another.
I think the last time I slept for that amount of time without waking was after I had a knee op about a year ago. I remember going home about 4 hours after the surgery and going to bed that night - bizarrely feeling high as a kite due to the anesthesia and laughing out loud to myself because I felt so 'happy' - and remembering nothing until the next morning. Now, I'm not advocating surgery to aid sleep but it was an odd experience.
Recently I have tinkered with various teas, lavender oils, herbal remedies and Nytol One A Night. I think they all work after a fashion although the Nytol gives me very vivid dreams. I have found what helps me best is deep breathing. Usually 4 -6 deep breaths is enough to make me drowsy. Unfortunately, it's not enough to keep me asleep and as soon as I wake up my mind starts ticking over about the day before or the day ahead and I'm back to square one again.
I have always been able to catnap during the afternoon if I have the opportunity so and that is a blessing. I think I inherited that trait from Nan and Mum! Nan used to 'grab 40 winks' in her chair in the afternoon and Mum used to be able to doze on the sofa after lunch and before going to pick up the children from school. I've always felt a bit guilty about sleeping in the daytime but theses days I sleep if I get the chance!
That aside, I was going to write about music and then I thought about family pets - both subjects are close to my heart- so I've decided on pets. I hope at least some of you may want to read on.
So, pets and family go hand in hand to me. What I mean by that is that I can't remember a time in my life when there wasn't a beloved family pet (or 3) as part of the family, either when I was a child or when I had children of my own.
When I was a child my first recollection of a family pet was a cat called Billy. He was a bit wild I think...used to go out all night and sleep all day, that kind of cat....and I only remember he caught a vole and ate it and then threw up on the sofa and what he threw up was riddled with maggots. Disgusting. Shortly after that he was put to sleep but I have no idea if the two events were connected. I think they were but I don't know how.
We had a white rabbit called Ricky (died after surgery, in our front room under the sideboard), I had a tortoise called Terry (lived for a year and used to get into next doors garden and eat their lettuce), there was a female ferret called Bruce (had loads of babies and used to escape from the cage and Dad used to have to chase her round the garden to try to catch her), a black rat called Ben who I was scared of ( had a big tumour and was put to sleep), 3 goldfish called Rollo, Polo and Toffo who we won at the fair and lived for ages (always arguements about whose turn it was to clean them out) and two other rabbits that were given to my sister, Misty and Thumper. Misty was the female and quite spiteful, Thumper was male, chocolate brown and adorable. They had several litters of bunnies which were all killed by my cat which was pretty horrendous to be honest. We just opened our bedroom curtains one morning and saw little bundles of fur dotted about. Each bundle of fur was a bunny. It was horrible.
The culprit for the massacre was my cat Twizzle. We also had a cat called Twinkle but we didn't think it was in Twinkle's nature to do such a thing. She was a very docile cuddly cat where as Twizzle was a bit wild. Twizzle was beautiful to look at. She was a tortoiseshell. She was also a killer and often used to bring bits of animals home for us which I hated. I still have a phobia about dead birds and mice etc but birds in particular. Both cats lived for a very long time and they were a big part of our childhood but the star of the show was Sparky.
Sparky was our mongrel dog who we all loved with all our hearts. He was a bit of a scruff and he was a bit of a wanderer but we adored him. He was always there, he was just part of the family. He used to escape from the garden and roam up and down the road raiding peoples dustbins which upset a few neighbours. He used to come on holidays with us. We used to make up plays and shows in the school holidays which he would always have a part in. He was part of the family and that was that.
Sparky was really Dad's dog I think. Dad was the one who used to walk him every night and it was always Dad that he would want to sit near ...or on if he got the chance!
As had to happen, Spark got old and frail. We found him one morning on the front door step unable to move his back legs. I'm not sure if he was already dying then, I can't remember, but I know that was about the end for him. The next thing I remember is Mum coming to our house because we were all so upset because Sparky had died. It was like losing a friend.
I vividly remember Dad digging a 'grave' for him at the top of the garden. All of us watched from the bedroom window as Dad carried Sparky's lifeless body up the garden path. Dad was talking to Spark all the time he was doing it and I remember we all just sat looking out of the window and sobbing uncontrollably. Sad, sad times.
Fast forward to my own family and we have had a selection of pets over the years too. I don't suppose I can remember them all (the kids will kill me!) but there was Sooty, a wonderful rabbit from the RSPCA, there was another (nasty) rabbit called Fudge who I still have nightmares about, then several guinea pigs....Hope and Heidi and one more whose name escapes me. We got Hope about the time of the Dunblane massacre where there was a horrendous shooting in a school and lots of young children and many teachers were murdered. Hope was named Hope because my children wanted there to be something positive to remember about that time. I remember thinking what a lovely thought that was. Hope was a noisy little thing and I loved her. I still think about her and often think about getting another guinea pig because of her. She was just lovely. Then, after a lot of consideration and many family chats, we decided to get a dog.
Welcome to the family Monty. Monty was a Jack Russell cross and he was fantastic. He was boisterous and bouncy, very intelligent and very loving. He settled in with us very quickly and the kids loved him. He used to sleep in their beds because he was small enough to and we all just loved him like you when you have a family dog.
Monty was born on my Mum's birthday which always made us feel as if he was destined to be with us and we envisaged many happy times with him in our family. Sadly that was not to be. During the Easter break when Monty was 2 years old, hubby and kiddies all took him for a walk by the river. I stayed at home to wash my hair and get dinner ready. The phone rang, I answered and it was a man asking if I had a dog called Monty. I said yes and assumed that he had found him. Sadly, the man was calling to say that he had just run Monty over and he was dead. Oh, it was dreadful. I rang hubby to tell him. He said that the children were all searching for the dog and wouldn't come home without him so he had to tell them what had happened. He said afterwards that it's one of the worst things he's had to do because the kids were devastated once they knew what had happened and they all dropped to the ground crying and screaming.
In the meantime, the man who had run Monty over had brought our little doggy home to us wrapped in a blanket. The guy hadn't stood a chance as Monty had been spooked by a loud noise while out walking and had tried to run back to the car which was parked on the other side of the road. He just ran right out in front of the traffic.
We have Monty in our garden buried under a flowering bush. We can see him from our kitchen window and we often light candles around him in the summer. He will always be a happy memory in our family history. much like Charlie.
Charlie, our lovely, soppy, handsome Charlie. We got Charlie a few months after Monty had died. Our family didn't seem complete without a dog. I saw an advert in the vets window and went to meet this 4 month old noisy Labrador puppy who had been returned to the breeder because he was so loud and barked all the time. I knew, as soon as I saw him, that Charlie belonged with us. Once again, he fitted into our family straight away. He used to chew things all the time when he was young...remote controls, cameras, lampstands, shoes, you name it...and he got a fair few tellings off along the way but he grew up and calmed down and was just our Charlie.
Charlie was 10 years old when he became unwell. I knew there was something wrong with him but I didn't know what it was. He was still wanting walks, he was still eating but he wasn't well. In hindsight, I should have taken him to the vets straight away like my heart was telling me to but nobody else seemed to think it was that important. Then, one morning, Charlie started to be sick and he couldn't get downstairs. I knew this wasn't good. I had to go to work but decided that, as soon as I got home, I was going to take him to the vets.
When I got home I knew it was too late. Charlie was nowhere to be found. I called him and called him, my heart pounding wildly because I didn't know what I was going to find. Then I heard the most awful howl. I ran into the garden and found Charlie round the side of the house unable to move. He looked so sad.
He couldn't stand up and I was too scared to lift him so hubby and I got a neighbour to help us lift Charlie into the back of the car. I felt sure that he was going to die en route to the vets but when we got their he jumped out of the back of the car unaided and walked into the vets. Usually I couldn't drag him into the vets. He hated it there.
The vet took one look at our handsome boy and shook his head and said 'He's a very poorly dog. I think he has heart worm'. That didn't mean anything to us but we assumed that that meant he could offer some kind of treatment. He looked at Charlie's gums. They were white. He had internal bleeding. The vet said there was nothing he could do and that the kindest thing would be to put our lovely boy out of his misery. He left us alone to say our goodbyes. Anyone who has been in a similar situation will know just how heartbreaking it is. Our lovely, handsome Charlie was laying on the vets bed and we had to say goodbye. Hubby and I were heartbroken and unable to speak. Charlie laid there looking at us as we stroked him and kissed his head and told him what am anazing friend and family member he had been and how much we were going to miss him...oh,crikey, I'm crying now when I think about it. I cradled Charlie's head in my hands and breathed in the smell of him. I can still remember it today. He looked at us as if to say 'It's OK. I've got to go'. He wasn't scared. Hubby stayed with him while the vet gave the injection but I couldn't bear to see it. And that was it. Our Charlie, Sir Charles, Charley Farley, was no more.
We had him cremated and later scattered his ashes at the site of one of his favourite walks. We all went and we all had our own thoughts as we said our final farewell.
And now we have Harvey who is a whole different story!
Well, that's enough for now I think. I'm still feeling a bit teary and emotional so I'd better go and get a cup of tea and stroke Harvey and tell him how much we all love him.
Have a happy day one and all.
Much love
xxxxxxxxx
Monday, 7 April 2014
The Grand National, The Boat Race and.....Wrestlemania 30!
Hello folks and I hope you and yours are all fine and dandy.
Last weekend was a fairly sporting affair for my family....although not the 'taking part' kind but the 'sitting back and watching' kind. I expect lots of you will know exactly what I mean.
It all started with The Grand National. That once a year racing spectacular that the world and his wife seem to have a bet on. Even people like me who have no clue about horse racing, betting, odds or anything else still think it's worth taking a chance and having a flutter.
As usual, this year I looked at the list of runners on the morning of the race and then chose my two horses by the names that I liked the best. Other people go by the colours the jockey is wearing or the number of the runner but I always go by the names. I liked two immediately...Chance du Roy (reminded me of my Dad) and Rainbow Hunter literally because of the colours of the rainbow. Bizarre, I know.
I texted the kids and told them that I would put £1 on a horse to win for each of them. Once I had their choices the bets were placed and that was it.
There were the usual false starts and early drama as the race started and then it seemed to settle down. Horses fell, jockeys were unseated and I watched the proceedings with my face behind a cushion. You see, I can't resist the drama of the race but I hate the fact that horses get badly injured and destroyed fairly often. The jumps are so high and the horses get so tired. It seems cruel to make them try to jump obstacles that must become more and more dangerous to them the further the race goes on.
Anyway, once the last fence was cleared by the remaining horses, I was able to watch them racing to the finishing post. It was exciting. I had no idea if any of the horses we had backed between us were still in the race but I was caught in the moment and cheered the winning horse over the line.
Needless to say, none of the numerous horses we had backed finished in the top 4. Chance du Roy did finish 6th though and no horses were destroyed and I was happier about that than anything.
6 years ago, as a treat for hubby's 50th birthday, we went as a family to Aintree for The Grand National. It was a great day out and I would recommend anyone to go if they get the chance. Just make sure you take lots of spending money!
Sunday saw The Boat Race, another traditional annual event, seeing a team from Oxford taking on a team from Cambridge.
When I was young this was a very popular televised event. I can remember sitting down with the family to watch it. There was always a lot of media coverage in the week prior to the race and everyone used to talk about it. I'm afraid that, these days, I don't think it's such a popular event but I may be wrong. I certainly don't know anyone who watches it. In fact, my sister and I were talking about it and we didn't even know whether it was on Saturday or Sunday. It's funny how things change. I suppose that there is so much coverage of sport on so many channels these days that we, the viewer, are spoilt for choice. There is always a football match you can watch at the weekend and I think that this last weekend there was also 20/20 cricket, F1 Grand Prix, rugby and tennis to choose from. In fact my daughter and son in law went to the West Ham v Liverpool match on Sunday (Liverpool won 2-1) and another part of the family would have spent a lot of the weekend watching F1.
Then, of course, there was Wrestlemania 30! Yes, I know it's not really 'sport' but it is good to watch. Last year we went to o2 in London to watch 'Raw' and had such a good time...much better than I thought we would.
Anyway, my son was very, very excited about the event at the weekend. So much so that he arranged to have Monday off so that he could stay up until 5am to watch it all. He spent most of Sunday pacing around, playing WWE on PS4 and watching recordings of previous fights. He also got all of us to give him our predictions for who would win what event and wrote down all of our choices.
By the time the coverage started (midnight) I was in bed but son's enthusiasm had rubbed off on me and I was excited to see what the outcome of the matches were going to be.
The main attraction for us was the match between The Undertaker and Brock Lesner - mainly because The Undertaker has been son's favourite wrestler for as long as we can remember and he hadn't lost a Wrestlemania match ever. Unfortunately, Undertaker's winning streak came to an end. Son was traumatised. Very traumatised indeed. But the viewing was made easier because someone that we know was in the front row of the arena in New Orleans and we kept seeing him on the TV screen!
So, the end of an era for The Undertaker and for Wrestlemania and for son.
I know this isn't the normal post from me but I thought a break from the intensity would might make a nice change....not so interesting probably but a change none the less.
TTFN
xxxx
Last weekend was a fairly sporting affair for my family....although not the 'taking part' kind but the 'sitting back and watching' kind. I expect lots of you will know exactly what I mean.
It all started with The Grand National. That once a year racing spectacular that the world and his wife seem to have a bet on. Even people like me who have no clue about horse racing, betting, odds or anything else still think it's worth taking a chance and having a flutter.
As usual, this year I looked at the list of runners on the morning of the race and then chose my two horses by the names that I liked the best. Other people go by the colours the jockey is wearing or the number of the runner but I always go by the names. I liked two immediately...Chance du Roy (reminded me of my Dad) and Rainbow Hunter literally because of the colours of the rainbow. Bizarre, I know.
I texted the kids and told them that I would put £1 on a horse to win for each of them. Once I had their choices the bets were placed and that was it.
There were the usual false starts and early drama as the race started and then it seemed to settle down. Horses fell, jockeys were unseated and I watched the proceedings with my face behind a cushion. You see, I can't resist the drama of the race but I hate the fact that horses get badly injured and destroyed fairly often. The jumps are so high and the horses get so tired. It seems cruel to make them try to jump obstacles that must become more and more dangerous to them the further the race goes on.
Anyway, once the last fence was cleared by the remaining horses, I was able to watch them racing to the finishing post. It was exciting. I had no idea if any of the horses we had backed between us were still in the race but I was caught in the moment and cheered the winning horse over the line.
Needless to say, none of the numerous horses we had backed finished in the top 4. Chance du Roy did finish 6th though and no horses were destroyed and I was happier about that than anything.
6 years ago, as a treat for hubby's 50th birthday, we went as a family to Aintree for The Grand National. It was a great day out and I would recommend anyone to go if they get the chance. Just make sure you take lots of spending money!
Sunday saw The Boat Race, another traditional annual event, seeing a team from Oxford taking on a team from Cambridge.
When I was young this was a very popular televised event. I can remember sitting down with the family to watch it. There was always a lot of media coverage in the week prior to the race and everyone used to talk about it. I'm afraid that, these days, I don't think it's such a popular event but I may be wrong. I certainly don't know anyone who watches it. In fact, my sister and I were talking about it and we didn't even know whether it was on Saturday or Sunday. It's funny how things change. I suppose that there is so much coverage of sport on so many channels these days that we, the viewer, are spoilt for choice. There is always a football match you can watch at the weekend and I think that this last weekend there was also 20/20 cricket, F1 Grand Prix, rugby and tennis to choose from. In fact my daughter and son in law went to the West Ham v Liverpool match on Sunday (Liverpool won 2-1) and another part of the family would have spent a lot of the weekend watching F1.
Then, of course, there was Wrestlemania 30! Yes, I know it's not really 'sport' but it is good to watch. Last year we went to o2 in London to watch 'Raw' and had such a good time...much better than I thought we would.
Anyway, my son was very, very excited about the event at the weekend. So much so that he arranged to have Monday off so that he could stay up until 5am to watch it all. He spent most of Sunday pacing around, playing WWE on PS4 and watching recordings of previous fights. He also got all of us to give him our predictions for who would win what event and wrote down all of our choices.
By the time the coverage started (midnight) I was in bed but son's enthusiasm had rubbed off on me and I was excited to see what the outcome of the matches were going to be.
The main attraction for us was the match between The Undertaker and Brock Lesner - mainly because The Undertaker has been son's favourite wrestler for as long as we can remember and he hadn't lost a Wrestlemania match ever. Unfortunately, Undertaker's winning streak came to an end. Son was traumatised. Very traumatised indeed. But the viewing was made easier because someone that we know was in the front row of the arena in New Orleans and we kept seeing him on the TV screen!
So, the end of an era for The Undertaker and for Wrestlemania and for son.
I know this isn't the normal post from me but I thought a break from the intensity would might make a nice change....not so interesting probably but a change none the less.
TTFN
xxxx
Sunday, 6 April 2014
And You Think You Know Your Grandparents.......
When I used nannyandmummy.blogspot.com as the link (or is it a domain name? I've no idea) for this blog it was mainly because the others that I tried to use were already taken and also that being a nanny and a mummy are probably the most important things in my life....that and being a wife of course!
When I became a nanny I was thrilled. I still am. I love to hear my grandchildren call me 'Nanny' and I am amazed to think that there is a little bit of me in each of them.
When I hear 'Nanny' I am immediately transported back to my own childhood and the time spent with my own Nan. I had two grandmothers who both lived in the same town as us. My grandfathers had either died before I was born or shortly afterwards and I have no recollection of them.
My paternal grandmother was a lovely gentle lady. I can picture her very clearly and I can almost feel the softness of her skin. She was a smiley Nan. My Dad was her youngest child and she obviously adored him. She had lots of grandchildren who she saw often and so, while she was always pleased to see us, we were one of many and she didn't have favourites. My other Nan, however, was a different story.
My maternal grandmother was everything I thought a Nan should be. She loved seeing us, she would let us sleep over whenever we liked. I have strong memories of Nan, my sister, my brother and I all sleeping in her bed, talking for hours and laughing.
My Mum was an only child and so Nan made the most of the grandchildren that she had. She would take us to bingo at the British Legion at the weekends and buy us Fanta orange and crisps. We would catch the last bus home...often just catching it by the skin of our teeth. It seemed like everyone knew her.
The fact that Nan was a strong, independent widowed lady was just taken for granted by us. She had lived through 2 world wars and rarely spoke about it despite being born in 1898 and so would have very vivid memories of those times. She always watched 'World at War' on a Sunday lunchtime I recall. She never spoke about her family and it never crossed my mind to ask her. I assumed that she didn't have any relations because she never mentioned them. I thought nothing of the fact that she had very few photographs and the ones that she did have often had bits cut out of them. She was just Nan, she loved us, we loved her, end of story.
Nan died in 1977. I was heartbroken. It was my first experience of death and I was traumatized. Nan wasn't there anymore.Nan was always there. I had planned on staying with her over on that Sunday night but changed my mind because she seemed in such a bad mood. Maybe she was feeling ill. Maybe she knew something was going to happen because that night she suffered a massive heart attack.
I have often wondered what would have happened if I had stayed with her as I had planned. The thought of it still makes me shudder. I would have woken to find her dead in bed next to me.
The years passed by and Mum started talking about Nan and her childhood and recollections. Mum had a difficult relationship with Nan. Mum used to say that her parents had an abusive relationship. Lots of rows and throwing things. As I have already mentioned, Mum was an only child and often lonely. When the people that are supposed to love you are at loggerheads all the time and you are caught in the middle it must affect you in a negative way. Mum seemed to have a soft spot for her Dad. He was much older that her Mum and she used to be embaressed that people would think he was her grandfather but she loved him just the same.
Fuelled by a keen interest to find out about my Nan, and with encouragement from Mum, I started on a genealogy mission. There were lots of things from Mum's childhood that she remembered but couldn't understand. There were fairly regular visits from 'aunties' from Portsmouth who used to talk in whispers to Nan and there were return visits to Portsmouth that Mum was made to go on despite often not wanting to.
I wrote the the Salvation Army who I knew were able to trace family and find birth records and then I thought nothing of it. This was in the days before the internet and genesreunited etc.
Months and months later, I was visiting Mum when she received a phone call. It was from the Salvation Army. I remember they asked her to sit down and asked her if she was on her own as they had some information for her. I watched Mum as she listened to the man on the phone and I saw her jaw drop. She picked up a pen and paper and started writing. I had no idea what was going on but I knew it was dramatic.
When Mum finally put the phone down she just sat in the chair and looked at me. She handed me the piece of paper she had been writing on and it had a list of names and dates on it that meant nothing to me at all.
However, that list of names was about to change my Mum's life. You see, that list of names were, in fact, a list of her half brothers and sisters. Relations that she knew nothing about. I think there were 7 names in total. 3 girls and 4 boys. Some living. Some dead.
Mum had been brought up as an only child, had always wanted brothers and sisters, had had a lonely childhood and all the time she had relatives living less than 30 miles away in Portsmouth.
It transpires that Nan had got married when she was 20 and had 5 children in quick succession. She left her husband and children and set up home with another man in the same town and had 2 more children. She then left those 2 children and her partner and set up home with my grandfather and had Mum. She only married once. Poor Mum.
A few years later, after the dust had settled a little, we did manage to get to meet the living relatives when we arranged a get together. It must have been so difficult for Mum. In fact, it must have been so difficult for all of them. They would all have had their individual feelings and emotions about what had happened to them. There was obviously some negative feelings about Nan. I think Mum felt guilty because she was the only child out of 8 that was brought up, and not abandoned,by Nan but I like to think that, over all, it was a positive experience. Certainly, it gave Mum some family and she really enjoyed her phone calls that she exchanged with some of them.
There is one photograph of my Mum with 2 of her half sisters that was taken on the day of the get together. The 3 of them are sitting side by side on a sofa. Each lady has the same mother but a different father. None of the ladies have ever met each other before but they look so alike....and they are all holding their heads slightly tilted to one side.
I later found out that Mum's father was no angel either. He had also been married before and he also had a family. I have no idea how much about each other my grandparents actually knew but I would suggest they knew everything and it was that that caused the tension between them. When Nan used to take Mum to Portsmouth it was actually a visit to meet up with the 2 'aunties' who would relay information to Nan about her other children.
One of Nan's sons died in Palestine when he was in his early 20's. He is buried out there and I know where his grave is. I hate to think that no-one has ever visited it and paid their respects. I feel almost duty-bound to go and visit it myself and I hope I will one day. He didn't die in battle. He died from a brain hemorrhage.
Eventually, after lots of stress, tears and drama ( and more than a little obsession from me) I decided that I would call a halt to the family history investigations for a while. I had unearthed much more than I had ever meant to and Mum was really emotionally drained by my constant revelations. Initially, I found it exciting but then I started to worry about what I was going to find out next and wondering whether Mum could actually deal with any more. So, all of my files are in a cupboard somewhere waiting to be opened again. I have no doubt that I will revisit my past again but not at the moment.
My sister and I are very loyal to our Nan's memory and we really don't want anyone to think she was a bad person. Regardless of her behaviour and what she did, she isn't here to defend herself. There must have been many reasons for her to do what she did but that didn't change her as a Nan. To us she was, is and always will be our Nan who loved us and was proud of us. If my grandchildren are able to think that about me in 50 years time I will be a very happy Nanny.
Happy Sunday everyone.
Don't worry, be happy!
Much love
xxxxxxxxx
When I became a nanny I was thrilled. I still am. I love to hear my grandchildren call me 'Nanny' and I am amazed to think that there is a little bit of me in each of them.
When I hear 'Nanny' I am immediately transported back to my own childhood and the time spent with my own Nan. I had two grandmothers who both lived in the same town as us. My grandfathers had either died before I was born or shortly afterwards and I have no recollection of them.
My paternal grandmother was a lovely gentle lady. I can picture her very clearly and I can almost feel the softness of her skin. She was a smiley Nan. My Dad was her youngest child and she obviously adored him. She had lots of grandchildren who she saw often and so, while she was always pleased to see us, we were one of many and she didn't have favourites. My other Nan, however, was a different story.
My maternal grandmother was everything I thought a Nan should be. She loved seeing us, she would let us sleep over whenever we liked. I have strong memories of Nan, my sister, my brother and I all sleeping in her bed, talking for hours and laughing.
My Mum was an only child and so Nan made the most of the grandchildren that she had. She would take us to bingo at the British Legion at the weekends and buy us Fanta orange and crisps. We would catch the last bus home...often just catching it by the skin of our teeth. It seemed like everyone knew her.
The fact that Nan was a strong, independent widowed lady was just taken for granted by us. She had lived through 2 world wars and rarely spoke about it despite being born in 1898 and so would have very vivid memories of those times. She always watched 'World at War' on a Sunday lunchtime I recall. She never spoke about her family and it never crossed my mind to ask her. I assumed that she didn't have any relations because she never mentioned them. I thought nothing of the fact that she had very few photographs and the ones that she did have often had bits cut out of them. She was just Nan, she loved us, we loved her, end of story.
Nan died in 1977. I was heartbroken. It was my first experience of death and I was traumatized. Nan wasn't there anymore.Nan was always there. I had planned on staying with her over on that Sunday night but changed my mind because she seemed in such a bad mood. Maybe she was feeling ill. Maybe she knew something was going to happen because that night she suffered a massive heart attack.
I have often wondered what would have happened if I had stayed with her as I had planned. The thought of it still makes me shudder. I would have woken to find her dead in bed next to me.
The years passed by and Mum started talking about Nan and her childhood and recollections. Mum had a difficult relationship with Nan. Mum used to say that her parents had an abusive relationship. Lots of rows and throwing things. As I have already mentioned, Mum was an only child and often lonely. When the people that are supposed to love you are at loggerheads all the time and you are caught in the middle it must affect you in a negative way. Mum seemed to have a soft spot for her Dad. He was much older that her Mum and she used to be embaressed that people would think he was her grandfather but she loved him just the same.
Fuelled by a keen interest to find out about my Nan, and with encouragement from Mum, I started on a genealogy mission. There were lots of things from Mum's childhood that she remembered but couldn't understand. There were fairly regular visits from 'aunties' from Portsmouth who used to talk in whispers to Nan and there were return visits to Portsmouth that Mum was made to go on despite often not wanting to.
I wrote the the Salvation Army who I knew were able to trace family and find birth records and then I thought nothing of it. This was in the days before the internet and genesreunited etc.
Months and months later, I was visiting Mum when she received a phone call. It was from the Salvation Army. I remember they asked her to sit down and asked her if she was on her own as they had some information for her. I watched Mum as she listened to the man on the phone and I saw her jaw drop. She picked up a pen and paper and started writing. I had no idea what was going on but I knew it was dramatic.
When Mum finally put the phone down she just sat in the chair and looked at me. She handed me the piece of paper she had been writing on and it had a list of names and dates on it that meant nothing to me at all.
However, that list of names was about to change my Mum's life. You see, that list of names were, in fact, a list of her half brothers and sisters. Relations that she knew nothing about. I think there were 7 names in total. 3 girls and 4 boys. Some living. Some dead.
Mum had been brought up as an only child, had always wanted brothers and sisters, had had a lonely childhood and all the time she had relatives living less than 30 miles away in Portsmouth.
It transpires that Nan had got married when she was 20 and had 5 children in quick succession. She left her husband and children and set up home with another man in the same town and had 2 more children. She then left those 2 children and her partner and set up home with my grandfather and had Mum. She only married once. Poor Mum.
A few years later, after the dust had settled a little, we did manage to get to meet the living relatives when we arranged a get together. It must have been so difficult for Mum. In fact, it must have been so difficult for all of them. They would all have had their individual feelings and emotions about what had happened to them. There was obviously some negative feelings about Nan. I think Mum felt guilty because she was the only child out of 8 that was brought up, and not abandoned,by Nan but I like to think that, over all, it was a positive experience. Certainly, it gave Mum some family and she really enjoyed her phone calls that she exchanged with some of them.
There is one photograph of my Mum with 2 of her half sisters that was taken on the day of the get together. The 3 of them are sitting side by side on a sofa. Each lady has the same mother but a different father. None of the ladies have ever met each other before but they look so alike....and they are all holding their heads slightly tilted to one side.
I later found out that Mum's father was no angel either. He had also been married before and he also had a family. I have no idea how much about each other my grandparents actually knew but I would suggest they knew everything and it was that that caused the tension between them. When Nan used to take Mum to Portsmouth it was actually a visit to meet up with the 2 'aunties' who would relay information to Nan about her other children.
One of Nan's sons died in Palestine when he was in his early 20's. He is buried out there and I know where his grave is. I hate to think that no-one has ever visited it and paid their respects. I feel almost duty-bound to go and visit it myself and I hope I will one day. He didn't die in battle. He died from a brain hemorrhage.
Eventually, after lots of stress, tears and drama ( and more than a little obsession from me) I decided that I would call a halt to the family history investigations for a while. I had unearthed much more than I had ever meant to and Mum was really emotionally drained by my constant revelations. Initially, I found it exciting but then I started to worry about what I was going to find out next and wondering whether Mum could actually deal with any more. So, all of my files are in a cupboard somewhere waiting to be opened again. I have no doubt that I will revisit my past again but not at the moment.
My sister and I are very loyal to our Nan's memory and we really don't want anyone to think she was a bad person. Regardless of her behaviour and what she did, she isn't here to defend herself. There must have been many reasons for her to do what she did but that didn't change her as a Nan. To us she was, is and always will be our Nan who loved us and was proud of us. If my grandchildren are able to think that about me in 50 years time I will be a very happy Nanny.
Happy Sunday everyone.
Don't worry, be happy!
Much love
xxxxxxxxx
Friday, 4 April 2014
Health and Happiness
The thing about blogging is that, if you're someone like me, you want to blog about everything that has happened or is happening to you and it's not always the right thing to do. I am a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve and it sometimes gets me into hot water but I don't know any other way to be.
My life as a Mum has been wonderful, traumatic, difficult, amazing etc etc and I expect every mum would say the same thing. You are faced with situations that you would never have imagined that you would have to deal with, you have to make decisions that could change someones life.
My introduction to motherhood was not textbook. Having your longed for baby taken away from you due to a life threatening condition, baby spending 6 weeks in special care and then learning that condition was genetic and may affect any other babies that you have was devastating. The day that my first baby was born changed my life in many, many ways.
I fell apart and then I found an inner strength that I didn't know I had. I had to deal with various medical hiccups and sit in countless hospital waiting rooms waiting for news of the latest dash to hospital.
I say 'I' but I wasn't alone. I had my husband at the time and my ever supportive family around me and I'm really not sure how I would have got through it all without them...but I did.
I would really like to go into details further but the time isn't right just yet. However, the condition that I'm referring to is hereditary arthro opthalmology otherwise known as Stickler Syndrome.
I did write my account of how the condition has affected my family in a book that was published quite a long time ago now called Stickler: The Elusive Syndrome by Wendy Hughes. I contributed to the book because I wanted to raise awareness of this relatively unknown condition. At the time most of the consultants that we saw at various outpatient appointments had no knowledge of the condition and we had to explain to them all about it which was a little unnerving when we were trusting our children with them!
I could also write quite easily about hib meningitis which caused untold anxiety and distress to us when our youngest daughter was diagnosed with it when she was 4 months old. Seeing your 4 month old daughter comatose for the best part of a week and having no idea how permanent any damage would be was heartbreaking. Watching her painfully slow recovery was miraculous.
Add to that lung cancer and vascular dementia that have also visited the family and you get some idea of the health concerns that we have faced along the way. None of this is exceptional I am sure. I know of many families that have had to deal with far,far greater misfortune than we have and I am eternally grateful to have my children healthy, happy and settled in their adult lives.
It's the personal toll that it has all taken on me over the years that I have found the hardest to deal with. My often constant anxiety over health issues raises its head fairly often and I have found myself in the depths of despair many times.
I have doubted myself, queried my suitability as a mother and as a parent, I have run away from difficult situations because I was scared of having to deal with something that I didn't want to see and I have taken to bed for days at a time because I couldn't face the outside world and what I perceived everyone would think of me.
As I'm writing this, I am in a good place. My anxiety levels are low and I feel in control and able to cope. If I was writing this when I wasn't feeling so stable , this post would have a totally different perspective. Let's hope that I don't ever do that!!!
I do try really hard not to dwell on the past. I know that I have been guilty of that on many occasions. Closure has always been difficult for me and I feel things deeply and therefore get hurt by the silliest of things - the odd throwaway comment that I take too personally and then agonize over for days - that sort of thing. But I am what I am.
Believe it or not, when I started typing this I was going to make the subject of the post about music! How on earth did I get from music to this?
Paxton, Dylan, Lennon, McClean, Bowie, Springsteen et al. Maybe tomorrow.
Try and make someone's day today. Speak to someone you have been meaning to ring for ages but keep forgetting, text someone to say 'hi', smile at the person you exchange glances with when you're out walking. A smile costs nothing and it makes you feel happy inside.
Have a wonderful day.
xxxxxx
My life as a Mum has been wonderful, traumatic, difficult, amazing etc etc and I expect every mum would say the same thing. You are faced with situations that you would never have imagined that you would have to deal with, you have to make decisions that could change someones life.
My introduction to motherhood was not textbook. Having your longed for baby taken away from you due to a life threatening condition, baby spending 6 weeks in special care and then learning that condition was genetic and may affect any other babies that you have was devastating. The day that my first baby was born changed my life in many, many ways.
I fell apart and then I found an inner strength that I didn't know I had. I had to deal with various medical hiccups and sit in countless hospital waiting rooms waiting for news of the latest dash to hospital.
I say 'I' but I wasn't alone. I had my husband at the time and my ever supportive family around me and I'm really not sure how I would have got through it all without them...but I did.
I would really like to go into details further but the time isn't right just yet. However, the condition that I'm referring to is hereditary arthro opthalmology otherwise known as Stickler Syndrome.
I did write my account of how the condition has affected my family in a book that was published quite a long time ago now called Stickler: The Elusive Syndrome by Wendy Hughes. I contributed to the book because I wanted to raise awareness of this relatively unknown condition. At the time most of the consultants that we saw at various outpatient appointments had no knowledge of the condition and we had to explain to them all about it which was a little unnerving when we were trusting our children with them!
I could also write quite easily about hib meningitis which caused untold anxiety and distress to us when our youngest daughter was diagnosed with it when she was 4 months old. Seeing your 4 month old daughter comatose for the best part of a week and having no idea how permanent any damage would be was heartbreaking. Watching her painfully slow recovery was miraculous.
Add to that lung cancer and vascular dementia that have also visited the family and you get some idea of the health concerns that we have faced along the way. None of this is exceptional I am sure. I know of many families that have had to deal with far,far greater misfortune than we have and I am eternally grateful to have my children healthy, happy and settled in their adult lives.
It's the personal toll that it has all taken on me over the years that I have found the hardest to deal with. My often constant anxiety over health issues raises its head fairly often and I have found myself in the depths of despair many times.
I have doubted myself, queried my suitability as a mother and as a parent, I have run away from difficult situations because I was scared of having to deal with something that I didn't want to see and I have taken to bed for days at a time because I couldn't face the outside world and what I perceived everyone would think of me.
As I'm writing this, I am in a good place. My anxiety levels are low and I feel in control and able to cope. If I was writing this when I wasn't feeling so stable , this post would have a totally different perspective. Let's hope that I don't ever do that!!!
I do try really hard not to dwell on the past. I know that I have been guilty of that on many occasions. Closure has always been difficult for me and I feel things deeply and therefore get hurt by the silliest of things - the odd throwaway comment that I take too personally and then agonize over for days - that sort of thing. But I am what I am.
Believe it or not, when I started typing this I was going to make the subject of the post about music! How on earth did I get from music to this?
Paxton, Dylan, Lennon, McClean, Bowie, Springsteen et al. Maybe tomorrow.
Try and make someone's day today. Speak to someone you have been meaning to ring for ages but keep forgetting, text someone to say 'hi', smile at the person you exchange glances with when you're out walking. A smile costs nothing and it makes you feel happy inside.
Have a wonderful day.
xxxxxx
Thursday, 3 April 2014
Oh Blog....How I've Missed You!
Hi everyone,
It seems ages and ages since my last post although it was only on Sunday and today is Thursday (so just 4 days). It has been a very busy time for me as I've had an 'interesting' sleepless night duty, a three day first aid course, one evening shift and hubby's birthday to fit into those three days plus the dog walks, the general housework that no-one else thinks needs doing and a supermarket shop and an emergency trip to the beach hut. I feel exhausted just reading back that paragraph!
My poor beach hut continues to struggle on. We had a call the other day to say that a lot of the huts had had their locks cut off, ours was one of them and that the hut wasn't secure. We had no option but to drive down to see for ourselves. When we got there, fortunately the locks were fine and hadn't been tampered with. The hut had also been put back it it's rightful place following the storms so we were keen to see how things were.
Unfortunately, as soon as we saw the hut we could see that there had been further damage, not from the weather or vandalism but from the act of putting it back in position. When we opened the doors the threshold fell apart, we couldn't open the internal door and and two of the floorboards were sticking up. There was also damage to the tongue and groove panels at various points around the hut. My heart sank as I surveyed the mess. This had all happened after a stressful day and my sadness at what I was seeing was possibly exaggerated because of my state of mind at the time. I rang a local chap who repaired our hut after the break-in in January and I wasn't even able to remember my own phone number when he asked me for it. What a wally!
I truly felt that the hut might be irreparable but, joy of joys, I spoke with him today and he feels he can patch up all of the damage and make the hut secure, maybe even by the end of the week or the beginning of next. I was so relieved. As usual, in my head the situation was far worse than it actually was. I guess I've always been a 'glass half empty' kind of girl.
So I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I may be able to spend some time in my hut over the Easter holidays and the process of making memories can begin....good memories anyway.
Yesterday was my hubby's birthday. He doesn't like a fuss so the day was quite uneventful in that respect. The poor man left for work at 5.30 am and didn't get home until 6 pm so he hadn't seen anyone or opened any cards or any presents all day. However, when he finally got home he was able to open lots of cards and was happy that he received lots of iTunes vouchers. I got him a jacket - it's always risky buying him clothes as our tastes vary so much - and he loves it. He tried it out this morning when he was walking the dog and came back full of praise for it so well done me and well done Fat Face...and that's not my nickname for my hubby, it's a company!!
Yesterday was also the 1st anniversary of the death of my ex mother in law. She was a proper character who was proud of her East End roots and who was a wonderful Nan to my two eldest girls. While she and I had our issues over the years, I could never doubt her love for, and her love of, her grandchildren. Over the last 10 years or so she and I became much closer and I often used to pop in to see how she was. I did the occasional care work for her which always included a cup of tea, cheese and crackers and a good old chinwag.
I was out of the country working when I got the news and I remember feeling guilty because I wasn't at home to support my girls who I knew would be devastated. Talking to them on the phone made it harder somehow because all I wanted to do was give them a hug and make sure that they were OK.
My two eldest girls each paid tribute to their Nan in their own ways yesterday and I was very proud of them both for remembering her in such a loving way. I know that she would be delighted.
I now have a few days with nothing planned and I couldn't be happier! I have no idea what I'll do or when I'll do it but I have the luxury of doing what I like when I like and I'm going to make the most of it ....or maybe I'll do what hubby always tells me I do which is fill up all of my free time doing 'something' instead of taking it easy.
In my head, taking it easy always equates to being lazy. I think it's because I always feel guilty if I'm sitting doing nothing because there are always so many things to be done. The fact that I knacker myself by trying to do everything is neither here nor there! I know, I am my own worst enemy. I'm learning to relax and chill but it's never been something that I have found comes naturally. That sounds really sad but it's true.
Have a good day everyone. Smile and be happy.
Much love
xxxxxxx
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