Books

It has occurred to me that no matter how difficult this year has been (and my god it has been difficult) and no matter how little money I have that I have still continued to buy books. I know it is the last luxury I need to give up if I am to keep trying to get on top of my finances. I will say in my justification, and even I am not sure if this is an excuse, that mainly I have been buying second hand books not new but still I have an extra massive pile to read.

I have shifted through books on car boots, in charity shops, the Pound Shop and a reasonable second hand shop in town. I justify the second hand shop by taking in bags of unwanted books and trading them. Of course I always buy more than I ever receive credit for but I have managed to clear some shelf space. Most of the best books I have read this year have been from these sources. I don't borrow many books and those I do tend to be non fiction books, because most of my friends read different sorts of genres of books.

I have found a method of identifying books that I might like - firstly the title, it has to grab me somehow, secondly the cover of course, I can't help but be drawn in by a cover that I like, then more importantly and the one thing that will make me buy or discard a book, the blub. If it sounds boring or just doesn't grab me then it returns to the shelves. And finally the one thing that seems to have helped me find some good reads is if the book has been nominated or selected for some type of award or book club. They just seem to be slightly better written and have better plot line, not always but so far I have found it a good success rate - 80 - 90% at least.

The only slight failure in this system has been trying to identify good children's/young teenager book. Firstly there is some real crap out there (any potential author take note and think about doing better - I am) and secondly it is hard to identify the good ones. I have talked in book shops, I have got a list from my friend JC who is training to be an English teacher and just trying to keep looking, even reading Amazon reviews which can be hit and miss. I have read some that are frankly, well rubbish and only one that I thought exceptional (The Boy in the Blue Stripped Pyjamas - see below). I need to research more and understand better but will keep trying.

Even so I have a massive pile of unread book and need to save my money and read some of them and stop buying new. It will help my finances greatly and give me some more space in the house.

Dix

The Boy in the Stripped Pyjamas by John Boyne

In my opinion everybody should read this book. It was so well written, it tells a story through the naivity of a child when the reader realises the horror that is going on around him. The ending just made me cry although I had realised what was going to happen somehow it didn't matter that I knew I still wanted it to be different.

I hope schools will adopt this book - I hope many will continue to read it so that we don't forget what we as human's are capable of.

I will read it again - I will savour the words and yes I found it amazing research for writing a children's book. Not that I believe for one minute I could write a book like that.

Please if you haven't get a copy, beg, borrow, steal if you have to - but read it and understand.

Dix

BR - The Almost Moon by Alice Sebold

(not kindle edition just this front cover)

My friend got me this book because it was like the work I wrote for my distertation. I have read The Lovely Bones and was not too sure about it. And I have to admit I was not to sure about this. The trouble was I didn't really care about the main character. I understood about her relationship with her mother, I understood that she had reached breaking point but I just didn't really care. And after I didn't understand how she behaved - it made no sense to me.

I am glad I gave it a go - and it made me understand about making the reader like the main character.

But not a keeper I am afraid. Sorry JC

Dix

Nothing Much

Only dead fish swim with the stream.

Fear: False Evidence Appearing Real.

The best way to gain self-confidence is to do what you are afraid to do.

The meaning of life is not an unquestionable answer; it is an unanswerable question.

A hundredload of worry will not pay an ounce of debt. (this is really relevant for me!)

if we did all the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves.

When you aim for perfection, you discover it's a moving target.

You'll never find peace of mind until you listen to your heart.

BR - ~Where were you Robert? by Hans Magnus Enzensberger

I read on Amazon that this is considered a good book by a renowned European author. Think I must be missing something. I found the book bitty, hard to follow, the historical information felt wrong and I didn't care about either the main character or any of the other characters.

Did like this cover though.

Not a keeper, straight back to the second hand book shop where I got it - didn't help with children's book research much either except maybe on how not to write it!

Where were you Robert? Who Cares!?!

Dix

BR - The Tent, The Bucket and Me by Emma Kennedy

I brought this book because it sounded like it had huge potential. I went camping in the 70's and had some interesting experiences (not least getting totally flooded out on a site in St Olaves even though my dad chose the highest spot to camp on). [The site is now almost totally flooded and actually a marina for Broads Cruisers]. But I digress - I really thought this would be a good book. I certainly remember using something like a bucket although I think it was a very early porta potie but took some balance as I remember and strict instructions of 'no number twos'. But this book starts off ok but I feel like in the end she almost goes too far. I just can't believe that her parents would keep trying if they had such hideous experiences.

I must admit we never went abroad so maybe the first intrepid campers in France did have it hard but it seems to me that most people would give up camping if they had one or maybe two terrible experiences. I did laugh in places but in the end I just found myself saying 'oh yeah' and being glad when it came to an end.

BR - When Skateboards Will be Free by Said Sayrafiezadeh

I won this book but am not quite sure who or from who. I guess it might be one of the competitions I do on the Penguin site. It just turned up one day and I thought, hey this sounds interesting. And it was.

It is an amazing auto biography of a lad being brought up in USA whose parents are devout (and I think that is the right word) socialists. They truly believe in the workers revolutions. He tells how this has so affected his life, his childhood and his view on being an adult. I just really liked it. I guess I have read stories like this when children grow up in very religious environments but to hear it from a political point of view was really interesting. The choices his parents made in order to follow their principles and how his life had been because of this.

If you want a good and different read I recommend this. I think it is a keeper - something I will read again.

Dix

More from Study in Grey

Parts of Having It Out With Melancholy by Jane Kenyan




4 OFTEN

Often I go to bed as soon after dinner
as seems adult
(I mean I try to wait for dark)
in order to push away
from the massive pain in sleep's
frail wicker coracle.

6 IN AND OUT

The dog searches until he finds me
upstairs, lies down with a clatter
of elbows, puts his head on my foot.

Sometimes, the sound of his breathing
saves my life - in and out, in
and out: a pause, a long sigh....

and

Depressed Mode by Heidi Greco

i am wearing
the same
tired clothes
for three long days now
around the clock
i know
it is not
a good sign


Perhaps I underestimated this little book - there are some extracts/writings that I don't get but why would I understand it all. Others just give me little rays of understanding and comfort.

Maybe I will keep this book after all.

Dix

Separation

This image is called separation. I thought it appropriate.

BR - No and Me by Delphine De Vigan

I purchased this book because I am trying to research older children/teenage books. I picked it up almost on a whim as it was by the till on special offer at £4.49. I had heard of it and thought it sounded interesting.

I loved it - I have read it in just over 24 hours and never wanted to put it down. It has many elements that I normally don't like - an unhappy ending, difficult to pin down characters but I still loved it. I loved the feeling of all the main characters being outsiders, outside their families, outside their friends. I understand that homelessness does not necessary have answers, that we can't heal others however much we try, the relationship between the two main women so close and yet so distance. The young girl and her male friend not being based on sexually but on something else. This is just a totally fabulous book - but not an easy book. This is what I like about it.

It is a keeper. It is one I will read again.

Dix

NaNoWriMo

I am gonna give this a go - 50,000 words in a month - it has got to be worth a try.

BR - The Outcast By Sadie Jones

I picked up this novel from a car boot sale this summer - working on my new method of choosing anything that had been nominated for a prize or selected for a reading group, this fitted the bill.

I absolutely loved it - it is definitely a keeper. It is the kind of story that I love. A story about an outsider (an outcast). It shows how the young man got to be outside his life, outside his family and friends by the tragedy of his mother drowning. I just couldn't put this book down. I will read it again (probably soon) and if she produces another book will look out for it. It really stirred up some emotions in me, the whole loosing his mother, his father remarrying and how he felt about it.

I would definitely recommend this book to anyone. (well nearly anyone).

Dix

Study in Grey By Various

I recently found this little book in a second hand book shop and thought I would give it a go. On the whole I found it a little disappointing although there were little 'gems' that I enjoyed. Not a keeper, I think, but glad to have explored it.

There was one piece I particularly enjoyed - in fact the first piece that I thought I would share with you.

Study in Grey by Heidi Green

depression wears an old coat
gravy-stained and frayed at the cuffs
its pockets have long since rotted through
empty holes to hang your hands in
nothing to put in there anyway

it is a grey thing
thick as yesterday's porridge gone cold
handle of the spoon poking out to one side
bowl stuck to the kitchen table
in a ring of sugary milk

in case you wondered there is no punctuation in the original.

Book Review - Spike Milligan The Biography

Now I understand that like many people who suffer mental health illness that there must have been times that he was pretty awful to live with but he had achieved so much and created such wonderful work I just can't believe that this 'author' felt that his illness was the main 'thing' of him. It said in the 'blurb' that this book would use Spike's own writing, particularly poetry to understand the man. It didn't. He does mention his writing, he does say what a prolific writer Spike is but mainly he goes on, and on, and on.... about his illness. So What? We know he was probably a manic depressive, we know that this illness can create amazingly creative people - we also know that sometimes it just doesn't. But what we don't know from this book is enough about his creativity, about his wonderful poetry and humour (and yes I know sometimes he gets it wrong - doesn't everyone).

I did enjoy reading this book - even though it made me angry - and I did learn more about Spike that I didn't know but I am glad I got it second hand cheaply and that I didn't invest too much hope in it. I admit that I have yet to read many biographies that really satisfy me as a reader. I fell they are so often sensationalist or shallow and don't let us really know about the subject.

What did I learn - that Spike suffered terrible 'shell shock' injuries twice during the war and this may be why he struggled in later life and also this may have helped him be more creative and funny and also write wonderful life poetry. He loved his children and women! Do I like his work any less - absolutely not - has it enhanced my understanding of his work - no, not very much.

Not a book I will keep but I guess I am kinda glad I read it.

Daily

Laughter is an instant vacation.

You willnever find time for anything. If you want time you must make it.

There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval.

Dix

Waiting Day

For the sun to come up
For the alarm to ring
For the daylight to come
For the kettle to boil
For my coffee to cool
For the toaster to pop
In the queue for the bus
For the bus to arrive
For the people to move
For the lift come down
For my boss to command
For my computer to load
For my emails to open
For the phone to start ringing
For the phone to stop ringing
For the time to be noon
In the queue at the sandwich bar
For the pm to start
For the photocopier to copy
For the emails to delete
For my letters to print
For my computer to shut down
In the queue for the bus
For the people to move
For the front door to open
For the news to come on
For the microwave to ping
For my dinner to cool
For the documentary to start
For the documentary to finish
For the sun to go down
For the darkness to fall
For the day to end
For sleep to come

By Dix

Just not sure how to punctuate this so didn't - can anyone help, don't want to just put loads of commas and not sure about full stops. Help.

Toilet Book

Am I the only person who has a toilet book? I understand that this may be a masculine trait but I just find it a nice quiet time to sit and read from a book that naturally leads to little snippets. Poetry is the best. I like finding little poetry books in second hand shops and reading them whilst taking a little time in the bathroom (if you know what I mean). I understand that some people find this, well disgusting, especially my friend JC but for me it is just a way to find a little quiet space and do what I most enjoy - that is reading. Poetry works really well because it is easily read in small moments but allows me to gain understanding and enjoyment.

I guess in my generally busy life anything that allows me a quiet time to read is just such a bonus. Although I am never alone! The dog and sometimes both cats have to come and see what I am up to.

Book Review - unless by Carol Shield

This year has been difficult financially and one of the consequences of this has been that I have not been able to buy many new books so I have taken to scouring the car boots and charity shops trying to find interesting reading. I decided that is was often difficult to find good books and to identify books that might be a bit more challenging or interesting. So my method was to look for anything that may have been shortlisted for an award or picked out by book clubs eg Richard and Judy etc. It hasn't always worked but mainly has been a pretty good method.

unless by Carol Shields was shortlisted for the Orange Prize for Fiction 2003 and sounded interesting. I was unsure when I started the book whether it wasn't going to be so good but I kept with it and in fact it turned out to be an amazing read. The basic story is about a woman writer who lives a good life with her family until one day her eldest daughter just leaves everything behind to sit on a street corner with a sign that says 'goodness'. I feel the book explores many themes; family, woman roles, politics, the nature of publishing, women's working life, etc and for the most does them well. I think perhaps that the feminist ideas in the novel aren't quite clear enough (neither weak or strong) but other themes help to balance the novel well. I would definitely read another piece of her work.

Dix

Various Voice Harold Pinter

I was given this book as a birthday present and have read it in little 'snippets' over the year. I have always like Pinter but have to admit to not always fully understanding his work (maybe that is what Pinter wanted?). I really enjoyed reading his poetry although some of it was, I guess beyond me, and some - particularly the later work and his political work) I have found extraordinary. I feel that once he was aware of his illness and his own mortality that his work became more empathatic and certainly easier for me to connect to. I enjoyed the short fiction and found this very inspiring but most of all I enjoyed his interviews and that he was not afraid to pass an opinion, not afraid to have a political view, even though this must have affected his career. He was very knowledgeable on American politics and talks at length about this (I must admit it did become a bit overdone in places) but also refreshing - if that makes sense. I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to understand Pinter (the writer and the man) and is willing to explore his work with an open mind. And because it is presented in small snippets and pieces presents a perfect opportunity to do this. My copy is written on (in pencil) when I found pieces that amazed or interested me (I know some people find this terrible to write on books but I find it helps when revisiting them). Anyway here is a small piece that I particularly liked, more may follow. Thank you Harold Pinter.

Democracy

There's no escape.

The big pricks are out.

They'll fuck everything in sight.

Watch your back.

Harold Pinter - March 2003

Not earth shattering I know but still so relevant - don't you think?

Dix

An end of an era

My friend JC has gone. Moved on to her new life (training to be a secondary school teacher) and I am really pleased and excited for her. I know she has been stuck in a rut and finding it difficult to be optimistic about the future and that this is definately the right thing for her. Good Luck JC.

Trouble is I feel like I am left behind. Some of it is because of the life decisions I have made eg taking on boy and taking time out of work to help him settle in and adjust. (I don't regret this decision as he has needed that time and we have needed the space). But some of the things have happened to me eg my husbands financial mess, his health issues and general massive problems around money. Not being able to find a job as good as the one I had and not being able to fulfil any of my creative potential either through getting a job or managing to do more at home.

But just as I am sad and a little afraid with her moving on and not having anyone to attend 'creative events' with anymore I also realise that I have to take control for myself. I have to start writing everyday and make sure I make time for this, make sure I am brave enough to attend events on my own (although this will be hard with no one to bounce ideas off) and just make sure I get back into thinking creatively and being nicer to myself in lots of ways. This is in my hands - not anyone elses.

Boy goes back to school on Monday (a new school and we will all be a little afraid and need some support to get over this last hurdle) and hopefully 'him' will be signed off by hospital and be able to drive by Wednesday and then be able to really actively look for a job. But even if he can't find a job immediately (I have to believe he will find a job eventually or how can we keep going) that I will make time for myself, make time to read and to write and be myself. No excuses - I have to.

I am starting 2 courses in the next couple of weeks - a fostering one and a diet and health one. Both of these I hope will help restart my brain but also help me gain confidence in myself and what I have and am achieving. Only I can make this happen - only I can see the 'glass half full' again.

Wish me luck.

Another sleepless night

I couldn't sleep again last night just hours and hours of restlessness surrounded by short hours of well, napping. By 5 am I got to that time when I am never sure whether to get up and just do something else or try and get some more sleep. I stayed in bed and haven't woken up until nearly 9 o'clock. I feel like I am wasting the days (although the weather is absolutely hideous so not sure what I can actually do with the day). Now I feel wasted, and low. I have that feeling that is imbedded inside of lowness - it will mean I am liable to cry at any moment and probably will.

I have decided to be a busy as possible today and then hopefully will sleep really well tonight. I have to as Friday night I work all night and have to stay awake.

Maybe it is having to stay awake one night a week that is doing this to me - I am not sure. Only one more month of one night a week then back to normal.

Lots of things going around in my head - and none of them constructive or creative.

But have started another book from my collection that feels like it is going to be a good read. That would mean the last 4 books I have read have been good (5 if you include my toilet book - Harold Pinter).

Upset

I have been really upset - my friends dog, Buster has been really unwell and I feel like it is my fault. Boy was throwing stones for him last Thursday and it appears he has swallowed one. He has been really poorly - it blocked his intestine and he has had a major operation. I can't help it but I feel like it is my fault. I should have stopped Boy and even though I did tell him I should have been firmer. I can't stand the idea that that beautiful dog, Buster should be hurt through any fault of mine. His owner John was obviously so worried and I felt so bad as if there was nothing I could do.

Walking on the beach was just horrible with out my dogs, Dobbie's friend, somehow I just didn't have the heart for it. I was so worried he hadn't got through the operation and also heard he wasn't eating - it was so awful. I just kept crying (which was a real show-up).

Anyway as I came home from my dog walk Buster came on his lead to meet me - it was so nice and he even had a little ham because he thought Dobbie was going to eat it. I can see how much weight he has lost but he is starting to wag his tale again and his eyes are bright and he was fairly 'Busterish' so hopefully all is on the mend. It doesn't help me from feeling really guilty though. Maybe I needed a really good cry - not that I feel any better for it.

Work was difficult last night - I felt kinda out of step with everyone and my foot began to really hurt again. I was glad to get home and really rest. Today I am going to go on a really long bike ride as I think physical activity might 'buck me up a bit'. I am a bit worried that the 'old trouble' is returning and that is really not a good thing. So much at stake that is not a good thing - boy being the most important. You can't be a guardian if your a looney.

Not really sure what I want to say

My sister in law and her husband have come home from Australia and I was really looking forward to seeing them. I have never been close to my in-laws, always feeling that they look down on me and that we are unable to connect. But whilst she has been in Australia it has felt like we were at least getting on and connecting in someway. But at the party it was the same old crap - her husband was pissed (as he always is when I see him) and he started on boy. For no reason other than he is a twit and an arsehole. I tried to get boy to come away but he wouldn't although I will say he tried to stand up for himself which is infact, totally useless when speaking to a drunken idiot. I found myself getting really angry with my husband - it is his job to defend boy against his family, not mine. And I am still angry with him over it. Just as I am still angry with him over loosing all our money and running up such huge debts. I wonder really if I will ever forgive him or we will ever be back to a nice normal way of life, if I will ever find any sort of happiness again.

I guess probably not - just this everyday existence to the end.

Harold Pinter

Democracy

There's no escape.
The big pricks are out.
They'll fuck everything in sight.
Watch your back.

March 2003


Oh how true - Harold Pinter knew what he was talking about even though he couldn't, in the end, make a difference.

Can anyone make a difference?

Bad news

I got a phone call from my brother last night with really bad news - my cousin has died. He wasn't even 40 years old. I can't say I was really close to him - I wasn't, although I saw him last week at his dad's 80 birthday party. It was obvious he was very dark and very low and now I wish I had reached out to him more. I did have a conversation for which I will always be thankful but he wasn't in any of the pictures as he spent most of the time outside. I don't know how he died but I suspect the worst.

It seems like all this bad stuff is going on around me, effecting me and I am keeping my head above water. But last night it felt bad, it felt awful.

Tonight I have to work all night - something I agreed to just keep some money coming in - I am not looking forward to it but has to be done but I am worried on how this will effect my mental health. I suppose this is what my life is about now, struggling with money, struggling with relationships and bad news and just keeping well and keeping going and trying to be creative.

Somebody asked me the other day if I was a 'glass half full or glass half empty' sort of person and I said I was a 'glass half full' but at the moment I am struggling with this and want to say 'my glass is not half empty it is bloody empty'. But hey I know others are having it worse, my uncle and his wife and their three other children for one.

Dix

At class last night

This is a piece of writing I produced at my spiritualism class last night. I feel it is linked to my friend’s loss and my feelings. Not sure what it means or if I should even try and work out what it means. All I know is it is about colours and pictures that came into my mind. Then I became part of the image and then it was just words in statements.

Orange, of fruit, ripe around us, juicy to yellow and black bees, buzzing from flower to flower, to create life then moving closer to home to be together, as one unit, working into the blue – horizon away from the security, away from the family, alone but excited, excitable. And cold but not bone cold, just skin deep, cool goose bumps on skin allowing the feeling.

Purple petals, large, soft, silky, untouchable petals that melt against finger tips into dust, leaving subtle stain that last forever.

Lightening rips across landscapes, alive, buzzing, electric – momentarily bright, illuminated then dark again.

The wind blows around my hair, face flapping as it stabs ends into my face – I brush it away and turn to make it stream behind, behind to red, fire flame red. A cold warmth sinking down, removing all the trees and flowers from image into red.

The green is gone
Long live the green
And bright red collars
Around my neck that
Simpers. Quietly moaning
Of life and death.
Quietly hoping of faith
And hope. Quietly.

Escape to freedom.

Deep felt sadness

I heard today that the husband of a friend has committed suicide. It is such sad news and has really rocked me. I knew that he had mental health problems and also they had marriage problems but you always hope that the 'darkness' will not be so bad that he feels the only option is death. It is at these time that I wish that I didn't understand but I do and seeing the terrible mess left behind I hope that will be enough to discourage 'bad thoughts' in the future. I feel the terrible pain of this children and wonder how this will affect them for the rest of their days - I understand my friends anger and sadness and guilt for what he has done and just hope they can all find a way forward, past funerals and paperwork, past recriminations and anger, past pain and tears and have a happy fulfulled and understanding future.

God be with them - God bless his soul.

Dix

News, news, news

Firstly I didn't get any of the jobs I applied for (see previous post) and although I was initially upset that I didn't even get an interview I then though hey, maybe somebody is trying to tell me something. At the moment I am going to enjoy the summer holidays with 'boy', do a few hours at work (nights but only one so that should be ok) and write. If I see a job I really want then I will go for it if not I will at this time wait for inspiration. Maybe something will come up. I know that I should probably be more proactive and I understand that our financial situation means I should be looking for a good job but hey it will surely come with time.

Secondly me and JC and Luna and one other lady called N are going to get our work published. And I am now starting to feel really excited. It feels like it is really going to happen. I have to get my work together to fill 20 pages (approx a5) but feel that this will be great something to show people, something concrete to hold and keep me motivated. It is so inspirational to be with the others and putting our work together - to have positive motivating inclusive criticism (if you know what I mean) and to work with people who see me as a creative person first and all the rest of it second. We met up and talked writing and politics and religion and it was fantastic. The work showcased was amazing (JC's long poem is unbelievably good and so inspired) although I am a little jealous that she can create something like this is one go - even if I could it would take me weeks to create a piece of work like that.

So watch this space for news on our soon to be self published book - Cherry Picker.

Mog

Another job application

Another job application filled in - and handed in at the last minute (but just on time). On paper I have just about all that they are asking for. On paper I should be a good candidate. But will I get an interview - who can say. I hope so. Just have to move on to the next application.

Filling in endless applications can be soul destroying and monotonous but it has to be done.

We will see.

Not being paid- again

I got my payslip from Mencap early this month and what a bloody mess. They haven't paid me again. I know that I only work as and when and that my hours have to be input every month but it is so frustrating that when I really need the money like now I just don't get it. They already owed me 6 hours (which I have been owed for a couple of months) and now it just got worse. Those of you who know me, or have been reading my blog will know that I am not doing so great with money at mo so every penny counts.

We are hoping to have a very cheap but fun camping holiday - I have saved some money to go and was counting on my wages to help with the costs. And now no wages - and I am worrying how I am going to pay for the holiday.

Trouble is I really need a break - time away from home, from bills, from stress and worry. And I should be able to count on my wages when I have earnt them. I shouldn't have to beg for money I am owed. But seems like I so often am. I have got to get a job that pays every month and is regular and not too badly paid.

I feel angry and upset and worried and stressed and well thoroughly pissed off - and all I want is my wages. I cried at work when I told them about it as it has really upset me - I made plans that might just about work and now it is all well, buggered.

Life's just a bitch. Maybe I should check my lottery tickets - that will be another downer!!!

Mog

Last night

Last night me and JC went to a Uni do. She really didn't want to go and I kinda made her - which gave me a huge responsibility. Then all day I was thinking of ways of not going and in the end I just thought why I am so worried - just go say goodbye to the course leader and come away. So we went - with huge trepidation.

Anyway when I got there I felt ok. There wasn't anyone else from my year and it was a nice relaxed atmosphere. I spoke to my Visual lecturer, (and I think JC is actually right in what she said about him but that's another story), I spoke to the Course Leader and got to say thank you - and got to say that it really did matter and it really had made a major difference to my life and thank you, thank you, thank you. I spoke about football to the poetry guy and it was a nice night.

So we decided to go - our time was over - I even spoke to 'folder holder' but just hello but JC didn't (but that's another post).

Then as we were leaving two students turned up who we worked with and really liked, especially N and it was just like being back in the old days. So much creativity just oozing out of us - ideas and challenges and a definite push to get the Cherry Picker published (how great would that be). We sat for absolutely ages just talking ideas and JC looked so alive and so happy and it was just well, FAB. I got ideas for stories and was able to make promises to take work with me for a meeting next month to talk about our work and start putting it together for CP.

I am so glad I went. I am so glad it was so positive and brilliant. I have a positive closure and a way forward.

Just thankful I was brave enough.

Return - After

He stops at the gate and waits, staring at the ornate metal work chosen by his mother to be shaped like a rose. He pushes the gate gently, at first, then much firmer, much harder. It squeals open. The noise reminds him of a coffin lid opening from the black and white Hammer Horror films of his youth.

He walks purposefully up the path; stepping over the weeds pushing up through the gaps in the slabs. It was never like this before. Never. This garden was always neatly weeded, flowers deadheaded, daffodils cuts and tied – the flower beds carefully hoed. The lawn edged neat and dead straight – no blade of grass uneven.

Now the flowerbeds are undistinguishable from the lawn.

The Royal Blue door stands shut in front of him, layers of paint peeling away in finger tip sized circles exposing the colours underneath. Each layer showing the same Royal Blue but each slightly more faded.

He knocks at the door, quietly at first then persistently, knocking again and again. He waits a response. None comes. Nobody answers. Nobody comes. He rings the doorbell, moving closer to the door, placing his ear again the cool paint work to hear it ringing. There is no sound. The doorbell is dead.

He tries the door handle. And stops, his heart beating so loud it echoes in his head. Then he remembers the endless days of rushing through this door; announcing his homecoming and forgetting to shut the door behind him. His mother shouting ‘You make enough noise to wake the dead and put the wood in the hole will you’.

And for that moment he wants to rush through the door and shout, shout his arrival. He pushes the door open and steps inside. ‘I’m home’ he says. His words are spoken quietly, softly to no one there. The words do not reverberate outside of him.

Suddenly he smells a memory. A memory masked by the smell of uninhabited musky dust and damp. Fighting through the years – the smell of floral antiseptic and wax furniture polish; the smell of red hot ironed cotton; the smell of yesterday’s poached fish and boiling beef stew; the smell of stale Embassy No 6 and freshly scrubbed ash trays. The smells of his youth. The smells of his mother.

Loved

It felt good for a while.
Just for a moment.

It felt right.
It felt like the right thing
just for a while.

It made me feel
just for a while.

It made me feel nice.
It made me feel
like a woman.
Just for a while.

Just for a while
I felt loved.



June 2010

Yesterday

Yesterday felt like it was going to be one of those days. I went for a walk on the beach which I enjoyed and met a new lady and her dog. Then I went to work (abit late as per usual). But on the way to work something happened. Entirely my fault but it just made me think again that only bad things seem to happen when we are down. When I think I have at last hit rock bottom - I haven't. And then all the old thoughts sat with me all day. Another bill to arrive - more trouble - the effect all this will have in the future. When life was good and money was ok these things didn't happen - life just rumbled along with the odd little hump and dip but now it is all mountain and valleys both of which seem to hard to climb or walk. And then I thought about where is my life going, my best mates from Uni are finding there futures (and so they should and I am really happy for them - they are young and have there whole life ahead of them whereas I am nearly 50 and still trying to find away), whereas I am returning to old jobs, old ways which I know are not fulfilling me in anyway. I search the job sites, I search the Internet for just a hint of inspiration but nothing just admin, admin, admin and a wealth of care jobs that I could apply for but they pay shit and I know I will struggle within them to feel fulfilled and happy. So I finished my first job and made my way home. I made my way home wondering how much more downward can I realistically take before it all seems like too much trouble.

And then nearing home I just looked up and noticed the sky was really blue. That beautiful blue of a happy summers day. And straight across the horizon sat this little pile of puffy white clouds, like little cotton wall balls all sat on a wall - very straight and very soft. And this made me smile and think of soft white towels after a bath; of clean sheets on the bed; of freshly iron t-shirts cuddly on the skin; of babies on sheepskin; of cuddly toys given in love; of hope; of love.

And as quick as that life didn't seem so bad. But why, all of the above first paragraph was true - my life still sucks at the moment; I am fearful; I am afraid of the future so how can a row of clouds change all that. I don't know how but I am thankful that I am at that stage where it can. Where a row of clouds can make me feel good; where a row of clouds can me me think creatively; where a row of clouds can give me hope. I am so thankful because when I am ill nothing can do this - nothing can intrude on my misery and give me hope.

In the evening I went to my other job - still feeling tired but feeling glad; glad my mate was working; glad I could laugh with her and the tenants, just glad I had some options. Yesterday I had the options to apply for two jobs and didn't know if I wanted either but at least I had the option and then I got a call to see about some other possible work so hey - maybe the clouds really worked.

Dix

Seal Smile

Bright eyed, seal face, pops up and stares
dog like, just a few feet away.
With surprise, we blink
and he sinks,
back into the sea.

My eyes search the surf,
desperately trying to re-glimpse
again that natures face
and flapping tail.

Left and right on the horizon, wildly
hoping for that sweet blackness
of a face, for that slightness patch
to pop us and stare, again.

And just when I decide to walk on
it appears, following my steps,
closer than expected and smiles,
flicks tails and dives back down.
Dog face seal follows me homeward.


Dix

Carol Ann Duffy

I found this poem yesterday on the net. I have very mixed feelings about Carol Ann Duffy feeling that on the one hand she is very much what I would could an establishment poet, talking in that strange poet voice and writing in a way that feels out of my reach. Yet occasionally I have read something of hers that I really liked and have thought 'yes, I can connect with her'.

Anyway this poem was on the Guardian website and was written especially for them:

www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/may/07/democracy-carol-ann-duffy/

Democracy by Carol Ann Duffy

Here's a boat that cannot float.
Here's queue that cannot vote.
Here's a line you cannot quote.
Here's a deal you cannot note...
and here's a sacrificial goat,
here's a cut, here's a throat,
here's a drawbridge, here's a moat...
What's your hurry? Here's your coat.

Something about this really struck me. So brilliantly yet simply put.

I read it to my friend JC who said it sounded like something I had written, OMG I wish, but it did sound like something I could write if I really tried hard - if that makes sense. Anyway just well, sort of enjoy.

Dix

Living

Living

I am Living!

Am I Living?

Living, am I?

Living, I am.

M☻g

Uhmmm.....

I would like to say I am back blogging but in reality I know I can't. My life is still chaotic most of the time and full of fear of the future. There has been no creativity in my mind for many weeks, not even little doodles and notes in the evening in front of the TV. And strangely at that time I didn't miss it because I had (and maybe have) decide that I will never be a writer, creativity is a silly little hobby that I have been able to pamper over the last few years and now has to go. I hardly seem to have time to keep in touch with friends or family and I certainly don't have time for me.

But truth is you get used to worry - I don't wake up every morning frightened for the future. I know nothing is sorted, I know that any minute another bailiff could come visiting and set me back again. I don't know if I will keep my home, I don't know if I can make a future for 'boy' and I certainly don't know if I will stay with my husband in the future. Yet I do know that I can't live like this. That I have to fight. That I have to try and find a solution, even if it takes years. Hopefully that is the one thing I have - time. Time to sort it out and pay it off and feel alive again.

So I am going to try and blog again - try to write my stories and my funny little poems and talk about writing and art and creativity. I am going to try and be happy.

I still walk the dog on the beach every day - my little bit of heaven. I still enjoy time with 'boy'. I still love my family, I still love my animals, I still care about my friends and miss them. I am looking to find new hope. I know I will have to work full time, I know that I will have to watch every penny in the future but hey at least I can say the word future and hope I am in it.

So if anyone still reads my blog I ask a big favour - just have a little prayer for me - a terribly selfish thing to ask I know - but I just think any strength and courange I can muster will help me feel a future.

Hoping to feel your love.

Diana

Consumer's Lot

He brought the thing he didn't need, with money he didn't have, from someone he didn't know. It had been designed by someone he hadn't heard of. It was built by someone who didn't care, in a country he'd never been to. He got it home and it didn't work.

By Kevin Level from Mini Sagas published by The Daily Telegraph

Thursday 4th March

1969 - The Kray twins Ronald and Reginald were found guilty of murdering John McVite.

Now I remember this being big news, mainly because my Mum used to say how some of her family still lived in the area and had met the Krays, mind you she also said that they were bad people - so one of those strange claim to fame conversations.

Swallow your pride occasionally: it's non fattening!

Nothing, repeat nothing is non fattening - believe me I know - I am sure even the fresh air is fattening - or is that just my excuse because I eat too much. Hmmm.....

Ponderisms email

Now I know we get these types of emails all the time but sometimes, just sometimes I really like them. And I really liked this one so thought I would share it with you. I guess that they kinda sum up how I feel about life (or most of them anyway). Try not to take it too seriously because it all comes to an end.

Ponderisms:

I used to eat a lot of natural foods - until I learned that most people die of natural causes.

Gardening Rule: When weeding, the best way to make sure you are removing a weed and not a valuable plant is to pull on it. If it comes out of the ground easily, it is a valuable plant.

The easiest way to find something lost around the house or shop is to buy a replacement.

Never take life seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.

There are two kinds of pedestrians: the quick and the dead.

Life is sexually transmitted.

Health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.

The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth.

Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing.

Have you noticed since everyone has a mobile that takes pictures these days no one talks about seeing UFOs like they used to?

Whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again.

All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.

In the 60s, people took acid to make the world weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.

How is it one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box to start a campfire?

Who was the first person to look at a cow and say, "I think I'll squeeze these dangly things here and drink whatever comes out?

"Who was the first person to say, "See that chicken there? I'm gonna eat the next thing that comes outta its butt."

If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a song about him?

If quizzes are quizzical, what are tests?Do illiterate people get the full effect of Alphabet Soup?

Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him on a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?

Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle?

It's wednesday

In 1982 the opening of London's Barbican Centre for Arts and Conferences.

Never been there probably never will!!!

Hope never abandons you: you abandon it.

I know where this is coming from. A couple of weeks ago I really felt like I had no hope left. It was a horrible dark feeling, one that I had experienced before but in different circumstances. I know that my illness is about the loss of hope, I know that sometimes the medication made me lose hope but this time I felt I wasn't really ill, although knowing I had to fight hard to make sure I didn't slide back down that slippery slope, and I know it wasn't totally my fault. I still have to fight hard against the feelings that somehow this is my fault, that I am being punished for something I have done, for being a bad person. (JC tells me this is a normal feeling) but still hard to overcome. When the post arrives and more bills and demanding letters arrive, I find myself trying to identify why I am a bad person. In reality, sensibility tells me that I am just a fool with money, that we haven't planned, haven't been careful and sensible and so this is our punishment and probably rightly so. We are what the Victorians would call 'feckless and reckless', and destined for the workhouse. But I also now that with fight, and gumption and backbone and lots of lots of determination anything is possible. So that is where I am now - fighting , planning, trying to control money (even if a tad too late) and hoping, yes really hoping I can be strong for the future and hoping that I will find a way out of this mess. And it is hope that makes it feel ok.

Two Women

I have been sorted through some old notebooks (I have loads of them, probably over a hundred and most have only a couple of pages written on) and found some old bits of poetry. Is it a writers thing to have lots of notebooks? My daughter came home the other day with a really cool Pukka pad which she got sooooo cheap at Uni and I just have to have at least one, probably two. Anyway I found lots of bits of writing, starts of poems and ideas. This was one, don't think it is finished but thought it was interesting...

Two Women

Two Women spending a day up in town,
By the time they leave it's teeming it down.

A strange little man all dressed in red
Ran up to the women and said
'Can you help me,help me please
I seem to have loosened my head.'

He grabbed at his head and began spinning around
before creating a puddle right into the ground.

Women one really didn't give a care,
Women two just pulled at her hair.

Two Women left to catch the train,
and get out of the incessant rain.

M☻g


Must admit I am not sure myself but like the nonsense of it (if you know what I mean). Any ideas?

Tuesday 2nd March

1970 - The Prime Minister of Rhodesia Ian Smith, declared his country a republic.

I remember this, I don't think he really wanted to do but kinda had to. Things were changing in the world and Rhodesia couldn't stay the same, although South Africa hung on for a while. I think it was a really good thing but something is nagging in the back of my mind? Maybe I should look it up.

Speak the truth, but leave immediately after.

Hmmm, don't think so - isn't that just being a coward - if someone needs to hear the truth then I believe it should only be said with love and then you stay to listen to their opinion and be prepared to be wrong. Or you say it to someone you dislike and stand there to watch the fall out. Or maybe you just run!

**********

On a personal note today is my nephews 40th birthday and god it is making me feel old. I will say I was only 8 when he was born (so now you know how old I am) but I remember he was such a lovely little boy - so gentle and really beautiful. Don't get me wrong he is still a good person, a nice man and a good father. (And he hasn't had the easiest of lives so even greater to him than man he has become) but wow it has just made me feel really old. It will only be a couple of years and my eldest will be 30 - should I take to my bed now??

Mind you it's my 50th next year - hope I am here to celebrate it.

Boy Racer (2nd Ed)

Marky drives his blood red
street racer down
Consequence Avenue.

His boom base boot
beats loudly as
the body shell vibrates
in bang bang tones.

He races up to
a huddled group of
shopping bag ladies who
tut tut tut
with shaking heads in
nod nod nodding
time to the beat.

M☻g


I've had a re-write on this - just to try and give it more rhythm (or something). Don't know, think it works better. What do you think?

The first of the month

AD 589 - the death of St David, patron saint of Wales.

I'm not Welsh, don't think I even have Welsh relatives so this information doesn't really impact on me. Only thing I can say is that the Welsh are very patriotic, like the Scottish and probably the Irish and as an English person I envy that. They seems to be able to identify who they are and I am sure with today's changing world this helps a lot. I wish the English could find a national identity (a healthy one not National Front (right wing) type one. I am convinced it is because our national dance is Morris Dancing - a who the hell wants to admit to that!!!

Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.

I am not 'down' with this one either - surely the whole point of being drunk and saying silly things it the fact that you don't have to stand by them when you are sober.

M☻g

A poem I love

Not Waving But Drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving, but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no, no, no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

Stevie Smith
(September 20th 1902 - March 7th 1971)

I remember the first time I heard/read this poem and it just 'blew me away' and it still has an amazing impact on me. Some might say it has become a 'cliche' poem but not for me. The words mean so much to me in many ways, some that I can't even explain. I always want to read it out loud and let the words wash over me, each line, each word making me feel, making me think. I hope this is what poetry is supposed to be like, I know that this poem will always be wonderful to me and always mean so much. I guess I have answered my own questions.

Daily Info

Friday 26th - 1993 a bomb exploded under the World Trade Centre, killing six people and injuring many.

I feel I should know more about this - I remember it obviously, but no detail. I think I should know more.

If God wanted us to be brave, why did he give us legs?

All I can say to this is - What a load of ********

27th - 28th - 1824 the birth of Frenchman Charles Blondin, who crossed the Niagara Falls by tightrope.

I think there has just been a documentary about this on TV, must admit I didn't see it. Think it must have been interesting just to know why he did it?

Luck is when opportunity knocks and you answer.

I think this is true but wonder if you ever get to know if you forget to answer it, or miss it or is it just an opportunity that passes us by that we never know about. Hmmm....

Wed & Thurs

24th - 1955 More than 70 British roads were blocked by snow during the 'Big Freeze.'

Instead of counting your days, make your days count.

These sayings are so helpful, not, sometimes life is about counting days and others about days that count . I am not sure which is me at the mo - I think trying to make the days count.

25th - 1972 British miners voted to end their crippling 7-week strike.

I remember this time so clearly. As a very young, but already gaining Socialist ideals this felt like a terrible defeat. It felt like things were going to change forever. Somethings needed to - some Unions were using their power as badly as politicians but it was sad to see honest working men defeated, families broken and the understanding the whole communities would change forever. And it did change politics forever, I think this was the point when money, power, corruption all that is bad in our country took over. When banks didn't care about customers anymore, when money became king. It meant Margaret Thatcher could happen. Not good, not good.

We learn from history that we do not learn anything from history.

Unfortunately this is so true - in both a wider and a personal context. I think it should also say 'and so we suffer the consequences from our inability to learn from history.'

Morrison's Cafe

Last week I went to Morrison's Cafe with my friend.

We wanted cake.

I had a machine dispensed milky coffee in a big yellow cup that was the size of a mug.

It was chipped on the base.

She had a Pepsi.

We chose cake.

Desert apple pie and cream then a toffee pie and shared, bottoms and tops.

My friend chose a table in the middle of the room near an irritating child and shouting mother.

I sipped my manufactured coffee and stared around the cafe.

What's this - a face I recognise?

A face from the TV?

Now who is he?

Ah yes, he used to be Martin Platt on Coronation Street, I'm sure.

Definitely a lovey type wearing a darkly patterned shirt and clashing Tweed jacket.

I couldn't see the bottom half it was under the table.

I stared, rudely and wondered should I speak.

What would I say?

I don't even like Coronation Street and apparently he left ages ago.

My friend knew the details.

He was written out after having an affair with a younger woman and leaving (the character of course, not the man in the clashing clothes sitting in Morrison's Cafe).

My coffee cooled too quickly and frothed around my lips leaving a taupe moustache.

I wiped it with my sleeve.

My friend had read he had changed careers.

He left the show to make cheese!

I choked and spat taupe froth widely.

22nd and 23rd

22 - In 1979 the Caribbean island of Saint Lucia became independent from the United Kingdom.

This is something I feel I should know about - I am definitely old enough to remember it in the news but must admit it 'rings no bells'.

Forever is composed of nows.

I quite like the idea of this - as if every moment matters, each tiny second, each minute. It is an optimistic view point and one I feel I should be adopting.

23 - 1820 - London police exposed a plot to murder George IV's cabinet ministers.

Hey someone definitely had the right idea in the 1820's.

What soap is to the body, laughter is to the soul.

I had a good laugh about something yesterday, can't remember what is was but do remember feeling like a load had lifted - strange isn't it. We should all make a real effort to laugh more, to find humour in our life - it feels good for the soul.

Why do I keep blogging this stuff?

Thursday 18th - 2005 fox hunting with dogs became illegal in England and Wales.

And if you believe that you believe anything - please don't get me started on this issue. What the hell make us so bloody barbaric!!!!

If you want to forget all your other troubles, wear too tight shoes.

This is so true - I have trouble with my feet and sometimes the pain is really unbearable - crippling actually. It certainly does make you forget any other worries. Perhaps I should bind my feet then I wont worry about anything else.

Friday 19th - Serfdom was abolish in Russia.

I must admit I really have no idea what this means. Would just say that what ever name you give it slavery definitely still exists and is around us all the time.

Go the extra mile. It's never crowded.

Um, maybe, maybe not. Think where I am going there is not going to be much room to breath.

Sat 20th/Sun 21st

20th - birth of American landscape photographer, Ansel Adams

Strange thing is I think I know who this is. I love photography and I love looking at the historical books around photography. I was lucky enough to do some great research during my time at Uni and some of the works I found around poverty and destruction just blew me away. Hope to continue with my photography sometime.

Improvement begins with I.

Don't you just hate these sayings. I've always thought 'I' just begins with being self centred and selfish but hey maybe that is a successful strategy to life.



Why do I blog quotes and sayings - because at least it is doing something, making my mind think and putting something on-line. Not much, not very interesting but something. I have something to put in my writing diary and sometimes it gives me inspiration for other ideas and for creativity.

And at the end of the year I will have lots of entries on my blog.

Tues & Wed

Tuesday 16th - 2005 The Kyoto Protocol came into force, addressing climate change.

And has that been a huge success??

In today already walks tomorrow

I find this idea a bit worrying, lets get one day over before we start a new one.

Wednesday 17th - 1867 the first ship passed through the Suez Canal

I remember watching a program about how many men died during the 'building' of the Suez Canal - it was very sad.

It's easy to make a buck.

It's a lot tougher to make a difference.

It ain't so easy to make a buck - believe me - and even harder to keep it.

Make a difference to who???

More useless blog information

Friday 12th - 1809 the birth of pioneering English naturalist, Charles Darwin.

It seems unbelievable but his anniversary last year proved that this could still be a contentious statement.

Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty.

Saturday 13th/Sunday 14th - in 1984 (14th) British ice dancers, Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean, triumphed at the Winter Olympics.

I remember this being a big deal at the time but I just couldn't get into to it. I remember watching it and thinking OMG this is so boring. Don't mind a bit of ice skating on TV now although don't go out of my way to watch it but I do understand the importance of a British Gold Medal at the Winter Olympics and how it makes everyone feel good. Anything that makes everyone feel good in these times has got to be great.

Live every day as if it were your last and then some day you'll be right.

At the moment my whole life feels like this!!

Monday 15th - the birth of Clare Short, British Labour politician, in Northern Ireland.

She is someone I feel I should know more about - is she a good and worthy person or just another 'dis-honorable' MP. I seem to remember she left under some sort of cloud but was that because she acted badly or because she went against policy - hmm, maybe I should find out.

We should give meaning to life, not wait for life to give us meaning.

At the moment I am trying to understand what meaning my life has. I feel like I am being punished for being a bad person yet what have I done that is so bad. I am worried I am going to mess up for 'boy' and worried who is coming to demand money next and worried what is going to break next - including material and health - and just worried to be alive. This is not a good state to be in and all I can do is try and concentrate on being a good carer for 'boy', keeping myself mentally and physically healthy and just getting through each day - I find myself looking for a sign to show me what I have done that is so bad so at least I can learn. I guess I must already know but just don't want to hear it. Oh well at some point it will smack me straight in the face and then I will know if I am strong enough.

Another self-obsessed day - no I not going to let this happen - just let it all out on my blog and then keep going. I think it is ok for my to be a 'sad sack' on my blog - although I think even the few readers I have will get sick of it and move on - or tell me to 'get over it'. Both is ok, both will help me in some way. Blogging helps me in someway.

Boy Racer

Marky drives his blood red
street racer down
consequence avenue.

His boom base boot
beating so loudly
the whole body vibrates
in bang bang tones.

Speeding by a huddled
group of grey haired ladies
who tut tut tut with shaking heads
in nod nod nodding
time to the beat.

Mog

Today and yesterday

11th - King Henry VIII was recognised as supreme head of the Church of England.

10th - In 1940 the premiere of the first Tom and Jerry cartoon, Puss Gets the Boot was shown.

I wonder if it had that spooky odd human figure with the brush screaming at the mouse! She made a kind of echoey sound that always scared me a little when I was a child.

11th - He who gives when he is asked has waited too long.

Hmmmm, for someone who works in the care industry I can see the fatal flaw in this statement, sometimes enabling people to ask for help is more important than the actual help. Otherwise what feels like help becomes interference when really what should be offered is support - support to enable the individual to do what they want or need.

10th - Wherever a man turns he can find someone who needs him.

I wish this statement was true. I am lucky that for me and my circle it is true but I suspect that for many people in the world it is not true and that is why they become lost and lonely. Missing people in the midst of us.

Hen-hen and the Tinsel

This is my Hen-hen, (that's what I call him anyway). I once read a book that said most cats of cat lovers have a least seven names (cute and nice names not bugger off flea bag type of names). I remember thinking that was rubbish but realised that both my cats have at least seven names and maybe more. Anyway every Christmas he can't wait for the tinsel to come out of the roof and to wallow in the box once the lid is removed. He loves tinsel and surprisingly never comes out of it covered in shining little slivers, whereas my home is always covered in the glittery slithers whenever I decorate my room.

Hen- hen is so far, the love of my life. I know sad 'cat women' type of comment but I truly love him. I have another cat and a dog and I love them too but not quite the same. I have lived with a cat for just about the last thirty years, and I have loved them all but really they have all preferred my husband and only tolerated this women who might feed them, let them in and out and occasionally be available if a cuddle is required. They were all female cats. But from the first moment I set eyes on Hen at the rescue centre it has just been true love. He climbed straight on my shoulder and curled around me. He still does this when I lie in bed and he curls around me on my pillow. Even though I can't sleep for his loud diesel like purring and his fur makes my face itch - I love him.

Sometimes I only have to think of him and he will come from where he is sleeping and sit with me, in fact he has just come into the study now and is staring at me - like he knows I am writing about him. He wakes me in the morning and lies beside me when I go to sleep.

He can be an absolute pain, like I am typing on a wireless keyboard because he has knackered the keyboard on my laptop where he jumped up, slightly lost his footing and slide back taking half the keyboard letters with him. And when he wants to go and is not allowed, will literally 'hola' at the back door in the loudest nagging sort of way. I don't give in. My cats don't go out after dark even though we live in a quiet cul-de-sac surrounded by fields. I have spent too many an early morning, 3am roaming about trying to quietly call my cats without waking the neighbours, only to find them sitting on the carport roof watching me and wandering what I am doing at that hour.

But whenever I am sad, or lonely or just having a little weep at some silly film he will always appear and cuddle up next to me. I know sometimes he sits on my lap and uses my skin as a gentle scratching post, but it is done with love. He sits with me all day when I am not well and stays with me constantly when the darkness comes. He is my white savour.

I love him, and wonder what I will do when it is his time to leave. I sometimes feel that he is someone who has come back to look after me. It is the weirdest feeling, like I know him and always have. Silly, I know but it is how I feel.

Sometimes I wonder what I would do if it was a choice between Hen-hen and 'Him' - what would I do? Hen-hen loves me for me, no judgement, just pure love and not because he has too. I look forward to going home to see Hen-hen, I look forward to going to bed for a cuddle with Hen-hen. He is my friend.

Oh dear have I really become this sad cat women - probably but I don't care.

It's Tuesday

Apparently today in 1960 the first star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame was for American actress Joanne Woodward.

I can hear so many people under 30 years old going - who????

Think big thoughts but relish small pleasures.

There are some days when all my thoughts feel big and as such they will not allow me to relish small pleasures. Luckily last couple of days I have remembered why I love walking the dog on the beach, searching the waves for a following seal and hoping to meet my dog walking friends. Will it continue, probably not.

Roger McGough and the Poetry Police

I found this poem today and was really taken by it. I like the work of Roger McGough very much – I think I am inspired by it and hope I aspire to it. I know I am much more Roger M than Carol AD. Anyway read this today and just wanted to share:

The Examination

‘Well doctor, what do you think?’
He took the poem and examined it.
‘Mmmm….’
The clock ticked nervously.
‘This will have to come out for a start.’
He stabbed a cold finger into its heart.
‘Needs cutting here as well.’
This can go.
And this is weak. Needs building up.’
He paused. . .
‘But it’s the Caesura I’m afraid.
Can’t do much about that.’
My palms sweated.
‘Throw it away and start again, that’s my advice.
And on the way out, send in the next patient, will you?’

I buttoned up my manuscript and left.
Outside, it was raining odes and stanzas.
I caught a crowded anthology and went directly home.

Realizing finally that I would never be published.
That I was to remain on of the alltime great unknown poets,
My worked rejected by even the vanity presses,
I decided to end it all.

Taken an overdose of Lyricism
I awaited the final peace
When into the room burst the Verse Squad
Followed by the Poetry Police.

By Roger McGough


There is so much in this work that I love, that I really relate to, that I fully understand and that I wish I had written.

Enjoy

Monday 8th

In 1952 Princess Elizabeth formally proclaimed herself Queen Elizabeth II of England (of England really I suspect it might not be just England) Do you think this calender I am using might be trying to cater for many nationalities?

Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.

I really wish this was true - maybe just once in a while. Sometimes it feels like we are just little ants in an ant farm controlled by people much more powerful and much richer. Wish I was the little rebel ant with a tiny little ice pick to smash through and release all the prisoner ants.

But then what would we do? Be responsible for our own destiny or just turn on each other???


Hmmmm....

Catch Up

2nd

Today 1882 the birth of Irish writer, James Joyce

Not a shred of evidence exists in favour of the idea that life is serious

Sometimes it feels pretty serious!!!
Ps I tried to read some James Joyce and just couldn't get into it. Any advice on what to try

3rd

In 1809 the birth of German composer Felix Mendelssohn

Forgiveness is the sweetest revenge


I tried to forgive someone who was really unkind to me once, but deep down just couldn't and still hope that what comes around goes around!!

4th

In 1913 the birth of America’s Rosa Parks, the mother of the civil rights movements

In the book of life the answers aren’t in the back

Where the hell are they then?

5th

In 1919 United Artists, the pioneering American film studio, was launched.

Old age isn’t so bad when you consider the alternative

Hum, depends how you feel sometimes

6th & 7th

In 1685 James II of England and VII of Scotland succeed his brother, Charles

The first wealth is health

I must be bad cos I want the first and the second