Time to tell the world!

First post of 2012

2012-01-02T07:44:00.003Z

My first post of 2012.
A year when I have to look on the bright side
When I have to make things happen for me.
When I have to let the bad stuff just wave over me
and the good stuff stick by.
A year when my life starts again.

dix

BR - a cat called norton by Peter Gethers

2011-12-30T13:44:00.003Z

This is a funny little book written by a chap about his cat. And I thoroughly enjoyed it. It is not literature but it is entertaining and it doesn't end on a sad note (always good with animal books). He takes his cat everywhere and it fits along nicely with his life.

I found it really easy to read but it made me smile and that is OK. So if you like cats; don't mind the American slant and want an easy entertaining read - give this a go. You won't be disappointed.

Dix

BR - What if God were the Sun? by John Edwards

2011-12-30T13:39:00.003Z

I have had this book for ages - years even but recently it kept coming to the top and being in my eyesight. I, mistakenly took this to mean that it was a message for me to read it. That this book would help me in some way - would help me feel better or give me a answer to the pain I feel in my life at the moment.

It didn't.

In fact it is a very poor book with little or no story line, is badly written and didn't leave me with any feeling apart from why did I bother to read it, buy it, or keep it so long. He didn't even explore the spiritualism properly. Oh well I can now pass it on and it won't be part of the clutter in my house anymore.

Dix

BR - the accidental by Ali Smith

2011-11-06T08:07:00.002Z

I found this book really good to read and really bad. I know that doesn't really make sense but it does to me. I would recommend this book to anyone but beware it is written in a style that make is difficult; that makes you question what you have read and re read again and again. Well that is what I did anyway. I really liked the end, which is unusual for me as I normally find ends a disappointment. There are parts of the story I guess I still don't get but other parts that just wowed me. They left me wishing I could write like this; wishing I could get anywhere near this standard.

I don't want to even start to explain the story; it would just sound crap in explanation so if you are brave or if anything intrigues you - read it.

Dix

One Art by Elizabeth Biship

2011-11-01T06:19:00.002Z

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop

I heard this poem and found it touched me. It touched my heart - so appropriate. I have to learn the art of loosing. I have to learn the art (again) of loosing love.

Dix

2011-10-30T11:17:00.002Z

I found this quote by Marianne Williamson:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

I found this quote on another blog that I read. I so hope that it is true but at least for today it has made me feel better.

Dix

Alone and blogging

2011-10-30T10:08:00.003Z

I haven't really been able to blog for a while in fact there is so much in my life that I haven't been able to manage. I know I may have put this before but to explain my 30 year marriage ended 15 weeks ago now. He left me by sending a text message and ran off with one of my best friends. And it hurts so much. Every day I just hope it will start getting easier - and to be honest in some ways it is. I no longer want him back. I realise that what he has done is so bad and has hurt so much there is no going back. But still I wake every morning with them in my head and I go to sleep the same and in between I have moments of OK, moments of better than OK and moments of utter hell.

I ache inside, I ache with loneliness. I feel it like a pain. I know it is too soon to even be thinking about starting another relationship but I so miss having someone around. After 30 years, even though they weren't all good I so miss waking up beside someone, having someone to talk to, discussing the rubbish on TV, eating with and so on and so on. Some days I really believe that one day there will be someone else for me but most days all I feel is a great be empty hole of the future of being alone, of coping alone. And I absolutely hate it.

Today is a bad day, a really bad day - lots and lots of crying already, up at 5am because I can't bear lying there thinking of them, thinking of what they have done. I can't ring my friends crying anymore - I have had enough of me so I know they have. I want it to stop -I want the days to be better, I want to feel like I can cope with boy and just make a life for myself alone and not keep feeling like this. I know many many people live alone and they do just fine, they are happy and able to live their life to the full. I have done so many things to try and make this go away but it just wont. I am at college one day a week, I volunteer, I have got the house much tidier and have really cleared the clutter, I cook and I clean and I do the garden and I cut wood - lots and lots of things. But I still have so many days like today when I just feel so empty, so alone and can't stop crying.

I know if I just make myself then I should be writing - that may be the savour to my life - if I can write everyday and really get into it I might stop feeling like this but trouble is my concentration span is hopeless, my confidence lower than usual and my avoidance huge.

I have started to do some jogging, maybe physical exercise will stop the pain and help me continue to loose weight and help me see a future for myself.

So here is my first blog for a while and yes it is just me feeling sorry for myself - as another blogger puts it a proper visit from the 'self pity' gnome. I don't know if it will help but I have to try, I have to try anything to stop myself feeling like this. I know somewhere inside I have the means to move on but some days I just can't summon it up.

If anyone is reading this 'I am sorry' but if it helps me at all I am not.

dix

It's Official

2011-10-07T06:52:00.004+01:00

It's official. I really have no clue what I am doing.

Today I am (well, I think I am meeting someone). I say I think because just at this moment I think it may not happen. Not sure why I think that, just have a feeling.

I am blindly getting on with my life. I still suffer every day. I still feel the pain everyday but hey, I am still here and I am still managing, well more than managing. So does it matter I don't know what I am doing - probably not. Maybe that is what makes life exciting. For once I have no certainty in my life. I don't know where I will be living next year, I don't really know what I will be doing, I don't know if I can manage Boy alone, I don't know if I will ever meet anyone else, I don't know if I can ever get over the betrayal, I don't know if I can ever forgive enough to get them out of my mind, I don't know if I can continue to pay the bills. I just don't know. In other words I am probably like the huge majority of people out there. I haven't a clue.

So here goes into another day - it may be good - it may be bad. It may be exciting or just plain ordinary. But here goes - here goes me who hasn't a clue.

And that is OK right now. It really is.

Dix

You have to believe

2011-10-02T17:26:00.003+01:00

"You have to believe"

"You have to believe you can be a writer

to be a writer.

Contrasts

2011-10-02T07:59:00.002+01:00

Contrasts

Joy, like a flower
sits in a place
right beside my
heart and blooms,
to happiness, love
and Joy.

Pain, like a wound
cuts in a place
right beside my
heart and stabs
incessantly with hurt, lies
and Pain.

Flowers bloom then
fade around the edges;
a knowledge gained from endings
and pain.
The sadness of
the summer gone.

Summer brings new
growth, and flowers,
bold and beautiful;
returning to
the joy.
The smiles and happiness of
warmth and laughter.

Big Bold Flowers with Them

2011-09-27T07:05:00.002+01:00

Orange is gone,
long live the cream,
long live the Big Bold Flowers.
Flowers,
gold, green and brown.
Long live the darkened
contrasting curtains
that hang so eloquently ....

Sitting in between them laughing -
dying inside.
Wanting to run,
wanting to hide
but longing for fun and laughter,
longing to belong again?

My heads fuzzy,
my arms heavy from Pernod.
Knowing I have to stay,
knowing I need to stay.
Stay with them,
Free to be me with them,
Free to be me at last,
free to listen and learn and feel again.
With them.

Dix

With special thanxs to JC and your Big Bold Flowers and Luna - you are special, special people. Hope I can soon learn to be here for you again. Love Ya

Waiting

2011-09-25T08:32:00.002+01:00

What am I waiting for?

Waiting for what?

His return?

My acceptance?

I am waiting for my life to change.

I am waiting for change.

New horizons?

Fresh Beginnings?

Hope.

What am I waiting for?

Waiting for what?

The pain to stop.

The hurt to subside

End.

What am I waiting for?

Waiting for what?

His return?

My acceptance?

Hope.

Dix

BR - Alone in Berlin by Hans Fallada

2011-09-23T11:03:00.003+01:00

I picked this book up by chance on a buy 2 get one free offer.(aren't often the best books found this way). I chose it because I liked books based in this period and thought it might be something like The Book Thief, one of my favourite books. I realise I enjoy books based in the second world war.

I was really surprised by this book - firstly it was actually written just after the war, 1947 by a German who had experienced some issues during war time, secondly that it has been translated into English fairly recently (I think).

Don't get me wrong there are places where the story hardly moves at all but the atmospheric is amazing and that keeps it moving alone. It is a very good book - a proper keeper. The main characters are actually based on real people and many of the characters have the reader really hating them even when they come to a sticky end. It is full of people who are hard to like, and some that are hard to understand and some that you try to sympathise with even though you may ask would you be the same

If you are in any way interested in the second world war and want to have an idea of life in Germany for ordinary people - read this. If you just like and interesting historical read - read this - if you are prepared explore history and personalities - read this.

If not - read this anyway - you wont regret it.

Dix

BR - Michael Caine - The Elephant to Hollywood

2011-09-23T10:58:00.003+01:00

I actually finished this book some time ago but haven't felt able to blog much recently. Will talk about that soon. I thought it was ok. He came across quite well and I enjoyed bits of the books very much, especially when he was writing about films I knew and liked but other bits were frankly a bit boring. I wouldn't read the book again but if you like Michael Caine this is defo worth a read.

Dix

I am living

2011-08-28T10:09:00.004+01:00

I am living on paracetamol
and pain. They're my
constant companions.
Each time I think about the lies
and betrayal,
it hurts so much.

A pain that sits beside
my heart, behind my
chest bone. Inside me.
I find the lies the worst
making it all my fault,
justifying what they have
done.
I cry at thoughts of them,
I cry with temper and
anger at thoughts of her.
I cry when I talk about them
I don't want to talk about them
anymore.
I don't want to talk,
I don't want to think,
I don't want to cry,
I don't want to anymore.

Dix

BR - Bluebeard by Angela Carter

2011-08-06T08:25:00.002+01:00

This is a Penguin Mini Modern Classic. An interesting read but not as good as I hoped it would be. It kinda stated the obvious about old classic fairy tales and didn't do anything new. We did an exercise at Uni about rewriting or writing a fairy tale and I was hoping these would be more like this in creating new ideas around old stories.

Anyway quick to read and a bit of fun although I felt it was kinda judgemental and sarcastic (if that is possible) and superior in away that took away the fun and even interestingness of it.

I must admit I have never really liked moral tales that much and this points out the morals and the alternative morals and that just irritated me.

Dix

BR - A Tiny Bit Marvellous by Dawn French

2011-08-03T08:15:00.003+01:00

Over the last couple of weeks I have read loads of books (well quite a few) but not blogged my reviews yet so here is one.

I read this book initially whilst I was away with boy and then finished it at home. I did enjoy it but have to say with the change in my life circumstances it didn't seem so good.

I think it is well written and enjoyable. The characters really stand out and parts of it made me laugh. The main female character ended up getting on my nerves though. Maybe she reminded me too much of me. I don't know. But anyway I would recommend this to someone as a summer read - I really would and I think Dawn French can really write (if she did write this of course but I suspect she did). I enjoyed the differences in the characters language and style and found this an interesting way of writing.

I will probably give this to my friend to read (and her daughter maybe) as it was fun if nothing else.

Dix

Strength and Weakness

2011-07-29T06:54:00.003+01:00

At the moment I am on this roller coaster ride of pain. One minute I feel strong, I feel like I can do this, that somehow I can make it in the future and everything will be OK. The next I am afraid and weak. I want to see him. I want him to come around and tell me everything is going to be OK because that is what has happened in my life for the last 30 years. I am especially weak when I know he has to visit or I know he is seeing my daughter.

On the good days I feel strong - I feel like I can face everything that is to be thrown at me and in the future I will find happiness and kindness and love.

On the bad days I feel weak and ugly and think that I deserve this, that I was a bad wife, that I am a bad person and that I just can't manage without him. That if I just really promise the earth, if I just tell him how afraid and ugly and bad I am and that it was all my fault he will come back and I will be OK.

The truth is I don't really want him back. I really don't. Sometimes enough is enough. He has hurt me so much. If he had just gone off with some stranger it would have been more bearable but he left with one of my friends. Someone who I had been friends with for a long time. Neither of them give an absolute stuff about me and my feelings. They are selfish and nasty. Neither of them care what they have done to my family.

I know I can't go back because if I did I would not survive. I would lose myself completely. But I also know I hate that he is happy, I hate that they have done this to me, I want them to feel just a bit of the pain that I feel. I want to know that my future is going to be OK and that one day I will find happiness and feel loved in some way. I just want to feel good about myself.

I have already lost a stone in weight and hope this trend will continue. I know that being slimmer will help my confidence and help me feel better about myself. But I also know that my strength needs to come from a much deeper place than this. I know that in order for me to have the future that I need I will have to learn to love myself much more, I will have to be strong and confident and just give it all a go. I will have to take the bad (and I am sure there is going to be lots of bad) and move over it. Get through it.

At the moment I have good friends and my children have just been amazing. I know I can't go on leaning on them as I have but am grateful of the help at the moment.

The truth is it has only been 2 weeks and I shouldn't beat myself up for having these moments of weakness. I should except them and move on. I should not think I am a bad person for sending him a silly text saying I don't know if I can go on alone. Sometimes I will be weak but these moments will get further apart and each day will not start the with the same pain of loneliness and unhappiness. Somewhere alone the line I will find a way for me to survive without the constant pain.

So today I need to except I am only human, that I will make mistakes, that they have really hurt me and that sometimes this will show and that is OK. Some days will be bad and others will be better because I am only human. I really don't deserve what has happened to me and I must stop thinking that I do. Nobody deserves this. I have to give myself the compassion that I would give someone else.

I know some of this is easier said than done but I am gonna try.

Diana

Bad Day

2011-07-25T08:31:00.002+01:00

Yesterday I had a bad day. A really bad day. I couldn't stop crying. I was mowing the lawn sobbing. When I spoke to anyone I was crying . I was crying in public. Yesterday I felt so much pain and so much doubts.

Yesterday I felt useless and ugly and hopeless. Yesterday I missed him so bad. I felt that I just couldn't go on without him. That somehow I had to speak to him and make him understand how much pain I am suffering, how much doubt I feel. How so totally alone I am.

The future opened up in front of me like a great big hole that I can only fall into, that I can't control and that will only involve pain and suffering. Yesterday I grieved for 30 years of marriage and a relationship that if not very good was a least something. Yesterday I was a bad 'mum' to Boy and a bad mum to my daughters. Yesterday I was a pretty hopeless person.

I didn't contact him because I knew it would just make me feel worse - not better. I just kept going got through it. I got through yesterday and just hope there are not too many days that bad because I don't know how if I can cope with them. I don't know.

Today I am not going to do this. It will be hard and I will have to use all my strength but today will be better. It has to be. I have to be better for boy and my lovely daughters. I have to be better for me.

So I will breathe, I will tell my mind to stop, I will try to believe in me and hope there really is a future out there for me. I will just go through the next few hours believing in these things. I will start trying to love myself, something I haven't done for a long, long, time.

I hope I have the strength.

Dix

Keeping busy but...

2011-07-24T07:15:00.003+01:00

There were times yesterday when I didn't hurt so bad. I kept busy, really, really, busy. I chopped wood and gardened and the front of the house looks a bit better. A long way to go but at least I now know it is do-able.

I was knackered. Actually sat in the chair and fell asleep. Another good thing really as I haven't slept like that for over a week and it felt OK to sleep because I was tired. But the trouble is as soon as I stop, as soon as I have a moment all the terrible thoughts just come back and I am eaten up by the pain and the anger.

I don't want to be but I can't stop my mind. I woke up the morning after a pretty good nights sleep and realise I was dreaming about her, about telling her what I thought, about telling her just how much pain she had inflicted on me. And it was awful. I don't want this to happen but it happens anyway.

Then I get up and I feel the physical pain inside. It is like grief and I guess I am suffering grief. A pain of loss. Yesterday I thought about the feelings I have for him. Guess I do still love him (or maybe it is just care for him a little bit). But we had 30 years together and even though he doesn't thinks so - most of the time it was good. We were friends, he was my support. We had good loving sex and were together. Now I don't have that anymore. He told me it is over and that is that but I just can't get to that point yet. I will I know I will but for me it is going to take a lot longer that just a week.

I realise that I shouldn't beat myself up about this. 30 years to a week - nothing. I realise it is OK to be frightened, even though things were bad he was still about, I still depended on him for a lot. These are the things I have to get used to. I can't ask him about cooking, I can't ask him to help with Boy, I can't talk to him about my beautiful girls. These things I can't do anymore. Yesterday I nearly texted him about where something was. I didn't. I get it - I can't anymore. And all day in my head I kept thinking about reasons to text him. I didn't. Instead I asked myself why I wanted to do this. And I guess the answer is above.

In my mind I know things will eventually get better for me (even though I suspect they will get worse first before they get better). In my mind I know that learning to be strong and independent will be a really good thing for me. In my mind I hope that one day I can find someone new and be loved again. Even if it is not a permanent thing. In my mind I hope I can bring up Boy on my own and do a good job. But at the moment my mind is also racing full of all the pain and suffering and the hurt. So there is a lot of competition in there.

And that competition is not always such a good thing.

Dix

I was doing OK

2011-07-23T06:49:00.002+01:00

I was doing ok. I was trying to be strong and making it happen. I was starting to feel good about myself which is something I haven't felt for along, long time. I felt strong (ish) and that I could cope with the day to day and make plans for the future. Even if they don't work out it felt like a framework, something to make me feel safe ish.

Then I saw him again - my ex husband, that is what I am calling him just because I don't know what to call him. I can't talk about us or we anymore either. He took out boy and they had a good time and he was kind (something he hadn't been for a long time).

But I came home to him being here and I just felt all the pain and all the hurt and all the anger. And I saw his body language and I saw him ignore me and look at me in that way. I have been thrown away by him like a piece of rubbish and it is awful.

So even though I tried really hard I went into that nasty person. The nasty person who just needs to tell how much I hate her - she was my friend and has totally stabbed my in the back and I call her names and he told me not to because they are together. I get that they are together. I get that it is over. In some ways I am so glad that he has gone - that just maybe I can find out who I am and be better and stronger and believe in myself. But he doesn't get the absolute pain that has been inflicted. In his mind it has been a week (yeah a whole week) and I should just move on and forget it. Be done with it. We have been married 30 years but in one week it is over. Done. We had been friends for 26 years but I should forget, I shouldn't feel any pain, I shouldn't feel betrayed because that is just me being unreasonable, that is just me being horrible and nagging.

And just for a moment there I fell for it. I felt bad for being who I was, I felt bad for feeling what I feel. I cried and swore and felt right back to point one - alone, useless, ugly, unloved and unlovable.

You know what - fuck him and fuck her. It is not me and what I feel is not unreasonable. Just because he has moved on in one week maybe I go a bit deeper than that. Maybe I need time to readjust, find a way through, work it all out. I have a right to be hurt, to be angry, to feel this terrible pain and to show it. I have that right - he doesn't have the right to make me feel it is my fault for feeling like that.

But I have to keep moving forward - I have to come out of this stronger, confident and alive. I have to - for myself and for boy.

I rang him after he left - I don't want to see him for a while - I need the space to not feel that pain all the time. I may always feel like it - who knows but I don't want to come out of this bitter and angry all the time. I know I have to deal with the loneliness but I don't have to make myself all chewed up inside. I don't have to put up with him making me feel like that.

I need closure with her - I need to write a letter to tell her how I feel - I need that and I don't give a stuff about what it does to her. Somehow I have to find a way to get that letter to her because I need it for me.

I am not sure if I can get through this - I am not sure if I can survive - I know I have so much more to content with and that each day will be harder but I have to try. I just have to do what is right for me and what will make me strong.

Of course, not seeing him is exactly what he wants - out of sight out of mind but really I have to put that aside and forget it. I have to be strong for me and my boy. I just have to.

Betrayed and Alone

2011-07-20T07:22:00.003+01:00

I have been unable to blog for a while. I have been unable to sleep, unable to eat and really am struggling to function as a person. You see my husband has run off and left me. That is bad but in a way I think our marriage was over a long time ago - too many lies, no real trust but worst of all no energy to even keep fighting.

The thing is he has gone off with one of my best friends. Anybody who knows me would know that friends are really important to me. I have always trusted my friends or just not been their friend. We have been friends for over 26 years. We went on holiday together, the four of us, couples enjoying our time together, and our children grew up like family.

I feel so betrayed. He left by sending me a text message - 30 years and all I got was a text message. What? But most of all I can't get my head around how she did this to me. I never thought she would. I thought we were friends. I thought I could trust her. I couldn't. Can I trust anyone ever again?

I can't sleep - I am having trouble being with myself because I am not sure how I feel about that. I am so angry, so hurt. I have so much to deal with and have to keep strong for boy - have to keep strong for my girls. But really I just want to curl up. I want to turn off my head - just for a while and make it all go away. I want to have company and love. I want someone to just make me feel special. I know that they are cosying up and having a great time and I am alone.

It is not that I want him back - I don't - enough is enough but just for a minute I wish I had someone to make me feel better. To make me feel loved.

I know I have to get past this. I know I can find the value in myself and realise that I am lovable and that I am beautiful in my own way but for a long time I have felt ugly and valueless and it is going to be hard to get over this.

I know I shouldn't ask but anyone out there reading my blog please pray for me (or whatever faith or hope you have) and help me find the strength to sleep, to feel good, to keep going and to love again. I know it is a lot to ask but any help would be just great at the moment.

Sorry for asking but I just need help to find a way forward.

Dix

A Weekend Summer School

2011-07-12T11:30:00.002+01:00

This weekend I had the opportunity to attend a local university summer school with Boy. I have to admit as the time got nearer I wasn't sure it was the right thing to do. I was worried about not fitting in; that it would be lots of big headed parents and that Boy would be out of his depth. How wrong could I be?

We had a fantastic time - in fact he quickly established himself and went off with the other children and got on with the workshops and activities. It was very tiring and very stimulating and very optimistic and everything, and much more, that I hoped it would be.

It made me understand that he copes well at school, that he does OK and that his social skills are just fine. Yeah maybe he doesn't have lots of close friends but that is OK with him so it is OK with me.

I was really tired when we came back on Sunday but also very elated, it has given us both a boost and that is good.

I have a job interview on Thursday and that is just what I needed to help me be more confident and more convinced of my ability to succeed.

A great time; a great summer school; a positive experience. Just what we needed.

Dix

WATER

2011-07-12T11:23:00.002+01:00

I recently attended a summer school and attended a lecture about water problems in Kenya. I am sorry to say it was a tad boring and I found myself trying to stay awake and stay interested . So I began making notes that could be turned into something creative. This is what I was left with. Not sure if it is a poem or anything really - probably just a outpouring of a mind trying to stay focused.

WATER

Queue water,
Introduction water,
Community water.
Water from the tap,
Tap water,
Water from the shower,
Water for the shower,

Culture of water,
Time spent; time spent for water,
Time for water,
Tribes for water; water tribes,
Water transfer,
Water treatment,
Water pipe; piped water,
Water connection,
Transmit water; water transmission,
Water security,
Kenya water; Kenyan water,
Water pollution; polluted water,
Consumable water,
Water conflicts, conflicts of water,
Fetching water,
Irrigation, irrigate,
Well; water wells,
Rationed water; water ration,
Water charge, pay for water,
Water payments,
Water solutions; solutions to water,
Nomad water; travelling like water,
Following the rain,
Following the wetness;
Travelling water,
Certified water; water certificate,
Private water,
Managed water,
Government water,
Local water,
Provided water; water providers,
Conflict water, water conflict;
Water permits; permitted water,
Community water projects,
Failed water projects,
Failed water,
Benefits of water,
Water donors,
Waters fails,
Donors fail,
Oil like water,
Oil and water resource,
Water resource,
Female water,
Water for the girls,
Water by the girls,
Carried, collected, kept,
Harvested, owned?
Water for women,
Women’s water.
Dammed water; water dammed,
Dammed by the water,
Dam the water,
Dam water,
Coloured water,
Blue, green, black, brown,
Muddy, clear, murky, slimy,
Cold, hot, cool, warm,
Wet,
Wet water,
Dry water,
Live water,
Dead water,
Drowned.
Thirst quenching water,
Water for life,
Alive water,
Awake water,
Help water,
Rehydrating water,
WATER.
Laughing water; crying water,
Helping water; fun water,
Water, water, water
WATER.
Water to live; water for life,
WATER
Vegetable water; soup water,
Hot water,
Tea, coffee, and water,
Water economy,
Economy of water,
Money water
WATER.

Dix

Affirmation

2011-07-08T20:47:00.003+01:00

Affirmation by Savage Garden

I believe the sun should never set upon an argument

I believe we place our happiness in other people's hands

I believe that junk food tastes so good because it's bad for you

I believe your parents did the best job they knew how to do

I believe that beauty magazines promote low self esteem

I believe I'm loved when I'm completely by myself alone

I believe in Karma what you give is what you get returned

I believe you can't appreciate real love until you've been burned

I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side

I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye

I believe you can't control or choose your sexuality

I believe that trust is more important than monogamy

I believe your most attractive features are your heart and soul

I believe that family is worth more than money or gold

I believe the struggle for financial freedom is unfair

I believe the only ones who disagree are millionaires

I believe forgiveness is the key to your unhappiness

I believe that wedded bliss negates the need to be undressed

I believe that God does not endorse TV evangelists

I believe in love surviving death into eternity

I believe in Karma what you give is what you get returned

I believe you can't appreciate real love until you've been burned

I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side

I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye

I have recently been listening to this album. In our house we call it Sandwich Garden after my friends young son got it wrong. I love this track and I love these lyrics. Mainly I agree with them.

Haven't worked out how to publish from YouTube but here is the link in anyone wants to have a listen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CPjnWympFbI

Dix

BR - No! I Don't Want to Join a Bookclub by Virginia Ironside

2011-07-05T18:24:00.003+01:00

I brought this book from a second hand book shop just because I like the title (and the cover) and took it to London with me because it look a light read and was easy to carry.

I absolutely loved it. It made me laugh out loud - and not many books make me do that. Some of the comments were just really funny. I do except that perhaps you have to be a certain age to see the humour but I am coming up to (or already at) that certain age so it hit home.

It was funny and sad and sometimes when she is worrying about her lodger and worrying about her family and especially her grandson I really get it. It is so easy to be anxious over nothing and something that is rarely portrayed in novels.

I loved the main character, I like the other characters. I liked the plot is was easy to follow and kept moving. I like books that are written in diary form (it almost feels that you are reading someone private thoughts) and I just wanted to keep reading.

This is not an earth shattering, life changing novel. It is not high brow but it is fun and written for adults and well written and has a beginning, a middle and an end. I would recommend it to people and would have been glad if someone had recommended it to me.

If you get the chance (and I must say probably if you are female of at least 40+) read and enjoy. It is definitely worth it.

Dix

London bloody London

2011-07-05T11:43:00.003+01:00

This weekend I went to London to see Take That. This blog is not about the concert (another blog entry I think). This blog is about travelling around London. Now I would be the first to admit that I am not well travelled, I am not very experienced at travelling or very confident. I usually drive and as long as I either know where I am going or have a confident navigator beside me I am absolutely fine.

This weekend I went to London by train. The train from Norwich was fine - I travelled first class, something I had never done before and enjoyed the luxury of a reserved seat and the train being on time and not very full.

When I got to London my friend JC was meeting me to get me across the underground, something I wasn't sure I could do alone. Now I know I probably couldn't have done it alone. Everywhere was so busy and so hot and so crowded and so bloody unfriendly. Trouble is I am by nature a people watcher, I can't help it. I have always enjoyed watching people and enjoy making us little stories about them in my head. Maybe that's the writer in me. On the London underground looking at someone feels like a terrible crime. People don't look at each other, they don't register each other. Most are wired in to some electrical devise, or reading and others just look up or down but not at each other - oh no, not at each other.

The journey back from Wembley on the Saturday night was the worst - it was so hot and so full of people and stupidly I thought that we would all still be singing Take That and living on the high of yet another excellent concert. But not silence, no eye contact, misery. Hundreds of people packed in like sardines, lots of body odour and wind and big fat arses (and thats coming from me). We had quite a long journey to get back to our hotel. I felt very sick from the smells and the heat and the jerky train. I felt very sick indeed. Getting off that train was like leaving the dentist on your worst possible visit - something you had to endure and hold your breathe and get through.

I sat in my seat imagining my favourite place, walking on the beach with my dog, breathing in the beautiful sea air, looking across the endless blue sea, watching the sun reflect off the sand dunes in the distance, seeing the fluffy clouds race across the blue sky and feeling the light spray from the sea caress my face. I even remember thinking that even the wettest, coldest, windiest day on the beach was a hundred times better that sitting on this bloody awful train with strangers.

I am glad I went. I am glad I got through it all but have to say I can't understand why anyone would want to do this day in, day out and how lucky I am to live in my space, near the sea, with beautiful clear, clean air.

I hate my job

2011-06-30T09:51:00.003+01:00

I know in this financial climate that I should be really thankful that I have a job and in some ways I am. But I am so stuck in a rut. I work relief which is supposed to work that I can pick and chose when I work but the down side is sometimes there is no work. But what it really means is that you are supposed to be available to them whenever they want, up to and including 24 hours a day and then they can just stop using you for no reason what so ever and never give you a reason. Yesterday a member of staff told me that I was 'letting the side' down because I don't want to work 24 hours days (and can't really as I am a foster parent) and that I don't care about the clients or my fellow members of staff.

Perhaps she is right - I don't know. All I know is I have been put on so many times that it is hard to care all the time, sometimes I just want to work and have a life at home and for the balance to be good. Not this crap I am getting.

So I am trying to get another job - desperately applying for lots of school jobs that would provide me with a slightly better income and a reliable structure with time off with boy during the holidays. Trouble is I don't think I am going to get one of these jobs which probably means I never will. I have applied for loads (although not as many as I should as my enthusiasm is really waining) and only had one interview. So what am I doing wrong. Probably not filling in my applications right, not the right experience, don't know the right people etc, etc.

But the truth is I can't keep going as I am. So I am going to have to apply for other care jobs but am so afraid it will be just more of the same. They expect you to do long shifts with sleep ins, they expect you to drop everything for the client but expect to give nothing back. This month I am missing wages again, for the second month running, but have to wait yet another month to catch up.

I so wish I didn't have to work - I know that this is unreasonable and financially impossible but I also know that the worst stress in my life is caused by work.

Wish I believed I could get another job.

Dix

Hot

2011-06-28T10:33:00.003+01:00

Now don't get me wrong I love the hot weather. It makes me feel good and it makes people happy. Sunshine makes people nicer to each other. I love nothing better than being outside basking in the sun (yeah bit like a whale!!!) and feeling how wonderful life is.

But last night it was just too bloody hot. I had the fan on most of the day and all night in the bedroom and it was still boiling. Trouble is I live in a chalet bungalow and the only room upstairs is our bedroom. It sits under a very dark roof and has only one window - this is not good for circulating the air. Sometimes I don't even mind it being really hot upstairs - I just lie there and enjoy the heat but something about yesterday was different. It was very close and hot. This just made it impossible to sleep; impossible to get comfortable.

I was aware of how much I was sweating (it was uncomfortable) and how much him lying next to me sweating - it was unpleasant. At some stage I should have just got up. I thought about chucking my tent up in the garden and sleeping out there. I should have done. Instead I lay there unable to sleep properly and then having some dreadful nightmare that made no sense and didn't seem to come to a conclusion.

I have two craps nights sleep now so I bet by tomorrow I will begin to feel awful and I have a busy weekend ahead.

Ah well, I better have a little afternoon nap - that always seems to help and feels like a naughty treat.

Dix

BR - Farewell, My Lovely by Raymond Chandler

2011-06-27T20:13:00.003+01:00

I have always wanted to read a Raymond Chandler book but for some reason, really unknown to me, I didn't want to buy a new copy. So I have trawled the second hand shops looking for a copy of anything really.

At uni we did read some extracts and a short story and this is what got me interested and lodged the idea in the back of my head.

It is not that this is a brilliant book, in fact there were times when I struggled to keep up with the story (this may have been because I mainly read it when I was tired and just about to drop off to sleep - a couple of times I fell asleep with it glued to me face!) but there is definitely something about the way he writes that is well just amazing. It is hard to think that this was written so long ago - published 1969 - and although it did seem old in some ways, obviously short of technology and such like but even so certain paragraphs, certain sentences, places where he has put words together in such a way as to take my breathe away. Sometimes he just writes so well, so beautifully that nothing else matters.

I am glad I have read a Raymond Chandler at last. I will surely read another some day. I particularly want to read The Big Sleep and or any short stories if they exist. Sometimes it is just so awe inspiring to read words so beautifully written, they catch at me with almost lust and desire. Such beauty that I feel that I can never hope to reach. But it is good to try.

If you have never read one, read a Raymond Chandler - put it on your bucket list as a to do.

Dix

BR - The comforts of Madness by Paul Sayer

2011-06-27T09:59:00.004+01:00

This book was lent to me by a friend and to be honest I was immediately attracted by the title. I have read a few books on the subject of madness and have found them interesting, thought provoking, sad or sometimes just not very good.

I sat outside in my summer house yesterday and read this book in one sitting. It is only 130ish pages long but it is still a long time since I have read a book in one sitting. I so enjoyed having the time and concentration to do this and was glad that the book held me to enable me to keep going. I felt very relaxed and chilled afterwards.

The book itself is very dark. The main character Peter is caught inside himself and is unable to escape. Many of his carers feel he is putting on, that he is able to break free but it soon becomes clear that he can't, that maybe he doesn't want to. The descriptions of him, both physically and mentally seemed very clear. I understood who he was and maybe even why he was. As he becomes more and more rigid and bent in his body somehow is mind becomes clearer (or so it appears to the reader who can see inside his head).

The ending is not upbeat - yet somehow it is not sad - somehow it feels inevitable and possibly kind. It is not a fun book, it has aspects that should make the reader explore their ideas of humanity, of madness, of what makes us.

The process of reading it for me was wonderful - a quiet, almost stolen couple of hours that reset my inner clock to a better calmness.

I think I would recommend this book to you - but in the proviso that you read it quickly (in one or two sittings only) because I think this is the only way you can get inside Peter's skin and understand his mind, understand his madness.

I'm not OK ... by Natasha Josefowitz

2011-06-24T22:14:00.002+01:00

I'm Not OK, You're Not OK, but That's OK by Natasha Josefowitz

I have done bad things in my life
have had bad thoughts
I am not always kind
nor always generous
I have placed myself first
I have lied, cheated,
I have acted out of passion
which has hurt others.
I have been inconsiderate
punishing, even vengeful
and I have felt guilty
tried to make amends
tried to atone
made New Year's resolutions
about becoming better.

I know some very similar things about you.

So I'm not OK
and you're not OK:
but that's OK.

Something about this poem means so much to me. It's how I feel and I suspect how others feel to. We are not perfect although we try (I think lots of people try to be better and good - I am an eternal optimist and hopeful for mankind) but somehow we don't manage it and I guess this poem says 'that's OK'.

Dix

Pursuit - a poem by Stephen Dobyns

2011-06-24T10:23:00.002+01:00

Each thing I do I rush through so I can do
something else. In such a way do the days pass –
a blend of stock car racing and the never
ending building of a gothic cathedral.
Through the windows of my speeding car, I see
all that I love falling away: books unread,
jokes untold, landscapes unvisited. And why?
What treasure do I expect in my future?
Rather it is the confusion of childhood
loping behind me, the chaos in the mind,
the failure chipping away at each success.
Glancing over my shoulder I see its shape
and so move forward, as someone in the woods
at night might hear the sound of approaching feet
and stop to listen, then, instead of silence
he hears some creature trying to be silent.
What else can he do but run? Rushing blindly
down the path, stumbling, struck in the face by sticks;
the other ever closer, yet not really
hurrying or out of breath, teasing its kill.

Poem, from "Cemetery Nights"

I 'borrowed or found' this on one of the blogs I follow (thanks Roses). It resonated with me and had touch me, made me think about how I live my life. It reads aloud so beautifully. I don't know who this man is but I feel what he is saying.

Hope you enjoy.

Dix

On attraction

2011-06-18T07:35:00.004+01:00

I realise that this blog is going to make some people go oowghgwgh.... but it it time to say. I find Chris Evans really attractive and always have. I remember the first time I saw him on TV; it was probably the Breakfast show that he did and thinking 'oh he's nice' and then thinking 'oh I shouldn't be thinking that.' I know he has ginger hair and this is not a thing that normally does it for me (although sometimes it looks strawberry blonde and that's OK) and I know he reminds me of someone and that is definitely not a good thing.

I watch him on The One Show and I am becoming obsessed with his hands. He has small hands, hands that have probably never done a hard days work physically, small and slim but still manly. I just find them fascinating, I can't stop watching them and I know I would really like them to touch me. Now before everyone thinks this is some real pervy sexual thing I think I would be happy just to meet him and shake hands (see get that out of your mind). I also love his smile - its a little wonky and strange and happy and sad, if you get what I mean.

I know he dyes his hair, he says so on screen. Normally this would probably put me off somewhat but then he is a celebrity and I dye my hair so why shouldn't he. He has got a good sense of humour though and he always seems very alive, alert, and outgoing. I like that. He tries to keep that sour faced Welsh girl laughing (although she will never have a sense of humour).

I hope he is kind - this is always my biggest thought about someone famous. I would like to read his book but don't want to end up not liking him. I read the Paul O'Grady book and thought he was an absolutely horrible person - it has just put me right off him. My daughter told me last night (I didn't tell her about my attraction we were just talking about him) that Chris used to be married to that awful 'dog chopped' presenter of 'Loose Women' when he was young - I find her annoying, in fact annoying odd, so that could be a bad sign. But he was young. He was also married to Billy Piper but she has always come across as OK and he still talks about her with real affection.

So all I do is snuggle in front of the TV on Friday tea times and sit and watch Chris Evans on The One Show and think about his hands, think about how he looks like someone I once liked and think about how I once was a person who might have wanted to shake his hand.

Sad, I know, sad but kinda nice.

Dix

Ps I am attracted to Chris Evans but lets get this straight - he ain't no Richard Hammond.

Found Writings

2011-06-17T08:13:00.003+01:00

I have just finished my notebook - the one I carry with me in my handbag and write down my thoughts, ideas and general info. This is a selection of those writings. Sorry - some may have been blogged before - some may not.

Cold Hard Cash

Why do the say 'cold hard cash?'

But not frozen solid money.

Yeah, cash is cold

but hard, maybe.

Hard to get.

Hard to keep.

Hard to touch? - Never.

Written 10/05/10 by Dix

The Financial Times

In times of credit crunch

and financial crashes,

unimaginable cash losses

and smashes,

futures are about gradualism,

time waiting and realism.

Written June 10 by Dix

Store

My grandmother-in-law

(if that makes sense),

liked to store food goods

just in case.

It's a habit she developed

during the war

and found hard to break.

Written 17/06/10 by Dix

Recycling Bags

Recycling bags

can't be stored -

they deteriorate

in the cupboard.

Recycling bags can't

be recycled

indefinitely.

Written June 2010 by Dix

Waiting Room

2011-06-16T08:23:00.003+01:00

Sitting in the Doctor's waiting room listening to the banal local radio station mumbling in the background; not making eye contact with anyone. The ceaseless noise is interrupted by the ping pong of the intercom followed by a muffled voice calling out a name that nobody can hear and all wonder if it sounds like them.

The potential patients make their first eye contact, looking to see who owns the fluffed sounds. Eventually after much eye searching, it repeats and someone stands, hopefully, making their way through to door 1, 2 or 3.

They soon return, at the joy of those assembled waiting, clutching their green and white paper, wondering if they have the right diagnose; if they got the right prescription; if they spoke quickly enough or clearly enough to say what they needed in their allotted 5 minutes.

They leave the waiting room purposefully to complete the last part of the task. To dutifully queue at the Chemist and pay for their boxed or bottled prizes.

Dix

On Worry

2011-06-14T10:07:00.002+01:00

I have always realised I am a terrible worrier. But I have never been sure if it is something I have developed or something I inherited. I know both my parents were a bit anxious (sometimes) but was never aware of them being over anxious and worried when I was a child.

I want everything to go well; for me and those around me. I want to feel like I am achieving; that I am making a difference at work and at home. And yet I know this is silly really. Why does this have to be - it is OK to just muddle along and be. It is OK to just work, pay the bills and have a good time. It is OK to sometimes be angry or ill or unhappy as long as you are happy and contented and well most of the time. I know these things.

At the moment I have a pain - in my side sort of tummy area (and that is how good I would be describing it to a doctor). It is niggly at the moment, making me stiff and catching my breath. Lets be honest it could be just a little bit of wind (it could also be a side effect of taking the Acia berry), but last night I layed in bed and proper fretted over it. In my mind it was something really bad and I would have to go into hospital and have an operation etc etc. So instead of having a good nights sleep I worried about something and nothing. And this morning I still have the pain, although it is bearable just annoying and nothing has happened and probably tomorrow it will be gone as quickly as it has arrived.

It is like I need something to worry about. I really don't - I have enough real problems that should be enough for me. Sometimes I wonder if I just have a drama queen personality or that I just can't stop worrying about stuff.

I would so love to have a worry free day - just relaxing doing whatever I want and not worrying about anything. Wouldn't that be great. Am I capable of it - probably not but it would be great to give it a go (with out the use of drugs or alcohol or anything else), just let my mind relax and forget it all.

I think it is something I should work towards - don't you.

Dix

On juggling

2011-06-13T11:07:00.004+01:00

I am 50 years old and trying to manage a home; a 13 year old Kinship Foster Child; numerous money issues; tiredness and work. Trouble is I am not always managing it.

Yesterday was a perfect example of this problem. I was due to work all day yesterday (Sunday), not something I would have normally chosen to do as the weekend is always a nightmare. But we are short staffed and I thought I could manage it. And sometimes I can. Trouble is we have just had a change of staffing and the previous manager got completely mixed up when I told her which days I am available and which I am not. My hubbie has every other weekend off, but not this weekend and instead of putting me on his weekend offs, she put me the wrong way around.

So I have to get a baby sitter. This is difficult at the best of times but sometimes nearly impossible. Yesterday was all sorted. My daughter was happy to come and sit with Boy. Don't know she had much planned but anyway all was safe and happy. What happened to make the plan go wrong? Her mother-in-law was rushed in to hospital with a suspected stroke (second one) and she had to go to the hospital with her partner - he needed her support and I totally understand this. Trouble was the phone call came through 1 hour and 15 mins before I had to got to work.

What can I do? I rang the couple of other people who sometimes help out. One was away and the other I couldn't contact. Oh dear. Panic, panic, panic. I sat and thought about. I know that I have to stay with Boy. He is and will always be my first priority. So I ring work and get a not so nice reception. I can understand why but it doesn't help.

So where am I now. Well I am an unreliable worker and will probably lose my job (it is only relief and I am very replaceable). I can't get another job because I flag up as reliable. I need the money from working, if only part-time, it pays lots of bills. I need to be a good reliable foster carer, parent, mother figure; wife; home keeper; finance manager; budgeter; and all round perfect person.

Yesterday I failed on all fronts. And what did it make me feel like - well pretty lousy really.

And how did Boy react - not 'Oh great we have the day together to so stuff' - No - instead 'Oh will there be enough money to go on holiday now?'

I almost feel like I am too old to be doing this stuff - like I am trying the juggling but every day something hits the deck.

No work today - thank god - just a day to relax and take time to do for me - stuff the housework, stuff the money management - I am blogging, watching daytime soaps and meeting a mate for coffee.

I am juggling for me.

Dix

On Tiredness

2011-06-11T11:54:00.003+01:00

The trouble is I am often tired - I mean really tired. So tired it is hard to do anything. When it hits me in the evening sometimes I can literally do nothing but go to sleep.

Work makes me incredibly tired. Even though I only do shortish shifts - sometimes I am absolutely exhausted. I sit down and that is it - almost like I just can't do anything else but sit and sleep.

I don't think this is normal - some people seem to be able to fit huge amounts into their days. They work and socialise and garden and still seem to get up early and stay up late. I can get up early, although I can never just wake up and get up. It always takes me at least half an hour of turning off the snooze on my mobile phone before I am able to get out of bed. Sometimes longer. I am never firing on all cylinders first thing either. I used to be able to stay up late, be awake and alert at all hours and full of life. I realise that my weight and stress has not helped in this and know that if I eat a better diet I always feel better but even so most days I could sleep 10 hours and still feel tired.

I don't sleep 10 hours - mostly I sleep 7 or 8 - but even so much of the evening is spent just chillin' out and getting nothing done.

I am 50 now, I manage to walk the dog every day for at least an hour (so that is good and it certainly keeps me sane), sometimes I cycle long distances with boy (15 miles plus), I try to walk instead of parking close by, swim when I can afford it and love being outside. These are all good things - I know they are and I feel proud of them.

But just sometimes I am so tired my body is screaming inside that I must lie down and go to sleep. I literally must. I am able to overcome this sometimes by just standing up and walking around but I always pay the cost for this - lots of aches and pains and then can't sleep when I need to.

Is this just old age? Is this about being overweight? Is it about stress? Or is it just me?

Dix

What ....

2011-06-08T15:08:00.005+01:00

Today I had a really strange and annoying experience. Life at work is odd and sometimes difficult anyway so anything that makes it more difficult than it needs just makes life well... what?

I work with a women who I am having difficulty getting on with - we just don't sign from the same hymn sheet. She seems to cause confusion whenever she comes in - especially when I am there.

Today I asked her a simple question - 'Are you using the van all day tomorrow?' I didn't think it was a contentious question, I couldn't understand why it turned into one. Simple question - simple answer Yes or No. But no this is not what happened. Instead a surreal conversation that then involved the Service User I work with and then went into complete overload.

The outcome - the answer was Yes she has got the bus all day. But I was made to feel like I had done something wrong, which I hadn't, and realise it is just another nail in the coffin which means I wont get kept on as relief.

Thanks Pal ------for nothing.

Dix

Oh so sad....... probably

2011-06-07T19:57:00.003+01:00

I am beginning to wonder if I am a really sad person. Why? Well I expect some could find lots of reasons but today I am talking about Christmas. The thing is I really like Christmas. It is not that I am some altruistic hero or something but I love looking for and finding presents that I think are just right for people. I love it when people truly like what I give them or I visit their homes and find my present in pride of place. My friend H, told me that the paintings I got her for her Christmas and birthday are some of her most prized possessions. I loved that.

So already, and it is only the beginning of of June, I am amassing, for it feels like amassing, Christmas presents. Most weeks I find something, some little bit from the pound shop or a painting on ebay or just some little thing anywhere. Rummaging around for Christmas presents. Often these things are original, cheap or reduced but all are chosen with an individual in mind. When I buy them they make me smile; or think of my family or friends; sometimes they just seem perfect.

I have them all in a big box at the top of the stairs. I try to write things down as I get them but usually fail at this task. So spend a quiet half hour, every so often, sorting through them, remembering the emotion of buying them and listing them (in the vague hope that I won't buy too much for one person and not enough for another). I hate buying last minute. Or even worse buying the same thing twice -I have managed that in the past.

Am I sad for this? Maybe. Have I got the spirit of Christmas, if somewhat materialistic - not sure. Will I continue to do this? Yeah, I expect so, when finances allow.

I guess I will never change. Christmas is just my thing. I love decorating madly with lots of colour and sparkle. I hate 'designer Christmas' - colours, themes bla, bla, bla.

So am I sad? You tell me.

Dix

About bonfires

2011-06-07T10:36:00.002+01:00

Now I have always thought of my self as a fairly tolerant neighbour (others may tell you different) and just want every one to 'live and let live'. I know I am noisy sometimes and sometimes just want to be left alone to have a quiet life.

This morning I decided to have a lie in (don't worry I get to the bonfire bit soon). I love nothing more than relaxing in bed and listening to the birds and others getting on with their lives. It was 8 am and I knew I needed to get up but just thought, hey a few minutes longer.

Then the smell began, just a slight whiff at first, then it got stronger and stronger - a bloody bonfire. Well my first thought is always has a house or car caught alight - one of my neighbours did once have a garage go up in the middle of the night with lots of huge bangs where the gas tanks went up. But the smell got stronger and the air outside the window became dense with smog like smoke. Ah yes I know, the new house being built on the corner - the builders are burning stuff.

Trouble is the house next door to me has just had a huge extension and the builders did lots of burning then. And they always seem to light a fire when I have washing out, or are just about to put washing out and the day before has been drizzly and wet so I couldn't get anything dry. So I jumped out of bed, most unusual for me, and had to shut the bedroom window (something I hate doing in the summer) then came down the stairs mumbling about bonfires and bloody builders and having to shut the back door.

The smell has gone down somewhat, it is now mid morning. I have washing out just because I don't really have anywhere else to put it and I hate using the tumble dryer unless I have to. But the air still feels well, polluted and I hate it.

I love living near the sea because the air is so wonderful. It smells clean and full of sea air (if you know what I mean) and not full of car fumes and bonfires. I wonder about asking the builders to have fires later in the day but think this might make me look like an interfering neighbour (which from this blog I probably am), but also think well, it might be better to say what I feel as the solution might not bother them so much. Oh god I am running on but you see what I mean.

So I guess what I am saying is I hate bonfire smoke in the summer and am too 'lily livered' to do anything about it.

Dix

Shopping Today

2011-06-06T21:12:00.003+01:00

Today I went shopping with an elderly relative. It is not that I mind taking her shopping, in fact I quite enjoy it but it is the hard physical work of pushing a wheelchair around town. Firstly putting it in and out of the car is hard, the boot of my car means that I have to lift it up and over rather than just slide it in. Then unload at the other end. None of the shops are really very wheelchair friendly and usually I have to carry bulky or awkward goods with me.

Then we go for lunch, which is a nice break. Then back to the hard grind of pushing a wheelchair, up and down, in and out before loading it all back into the car and going to the supermarket.

This is when it gets really awful. Usually I have to find a wheelchair or unload it all again. Then use one of those bloody awful wheelchair trolleys that are not big enough, don't fit on the trolley properly and nearly dislocate your back trying to push it around the store. The wheels on the trolley work against the wheels on the wheelchairs, all the goods are either on the top or bottom shelves and nothing is easy. It is really hard to manoeuvre and almost impossible to push around without knocking something down, hitting something or worse, somebody. Then at the tills it is always in the way and difficult to fill because the bags always seem to take up lots more space than the original goods.

So I pack it all back into the car, drive back to hers, unload it all, drive home and collapse.

I am sitting here tonight thinking that I feel like someone has found a tap on the back of me, turned it on and released all the energy I ever had.

There has got to be an easier way.

Dix

Shutting the Curtains

2011-06-04T08:17:00.003+01:00

Now I know during this entry I am probably going to really show my age (and my inbuilt snobbishness) but I can't help it. I realised, reading other's bloggs, that I love the ones that are someone giving an opinion - even if I don't agree. Well here is my opinion on curtain pulling.

You see, I can't understand why people keep their curtains pulled all the time. We have scarce little daylight in the winter so getting any of it through the windows is an absolute bonus and during the summer, especially this year we are having some gorgeous weather and I can't wait to get up in the morning and let in the sunshine. And maybe that is me, my hippyism that enjoys the outdoors and nice weather. I certainly know that sunshine makes me feel so much better and helps my mental health, going outside, walking the dog whatever the weather helps me feel me good.

Anyway, back to the point. I have noticed that with each generation it seems to get worse - that each generation seem to want to spend there whole day with the curtains closed - shut inside a big dark den, burning electricity, watching TV or DVD's or playback on Sky+, playing computer games shut into the big dark den. First is was my own girls, who are both heading towards 30 now, they would never pull their curtains. Their excuse was we live in a bungalow and didn't want anyone 'purving' on them (they meant the guy across the road but that's another story). They have both moved out and into their own homes and still do it. I go to see my eldest daughter, who has this really cool bungalow with wide patio doors in the lounge and windows at the front down a nice long drive and all the curtains are closed. The sunshine is well and truly shut out! My younger daughter lets a bit more sunshine in when we are there. She has the biggest front bay windows on a flat in a Victorian villa, but I know she shuts out the sun loads too.

Now I have boy - he has been away this week, doing activities (and it has been gloriously quiet) but as soon as he came home all the curtains in his rooms were closed - well and truly firmly shut. From the outside it just looks horrible. I go in there and open them but as soon as he goes back in they are shut up tight again. In fact he has requested thicker, darker curtains to keep out the sun- huh!

When you drive around the area, there are a few houses that always have the curtains shut - well I know this is snobby but these are the houses that always have run down paintwork, rusty old bangers in the garden, old bits of furniture and black sacks hanging around and looked generally really unloved. The curtains look so tightly pulled together that it appears they have never been opened and often apart from the permanent rubbish like no one actually lives in there. These are not always young, or youngish people, but they are a type of person. You expect them, if they ever come outside, to be very pale, almost deathly looking, squinting at the sun as it burns there unprotected skin. These houses often have deliveries, like Tesco's and unidentified parcels. Just the door open quickly, a hand comes out, signs if necessary and then back to curtain drawn abyss.

Now, I guess I am old fashioned, but every morning my mum would get up, put the kettle on, let out the dog and pull the curtains. It was about starting the day and letting the daylight in. Even in the winter when it was either grey or still dark, the curtains were pulled and life began. Often with a conversation about what sort of weather we were going to have that day (is that very British or do all nationalities do this). I love to wake up with the daylight. If I get up in the night I will often pull the curtains, especially in the summer, to allow the sun to naturally wake me up. It is wonderful, to hear the birds, to feel the warm of the sunlight oozing through my eyelids and warming my soul.

Do I care if the neighbours are looking in? Not really, there is nothing much to see here, just us getting on with our daily lives and honestly, me with nothing on - not a pleasant sight and not one that anyone would want to experience often. Let them look I say, what have they to gain, but life through someone else. Not for me, although I like a bit of noisy but don't want to be watching others live.

So am I old fashioned. Should I really shut out the world and keep myself hidden behind curtains, not watching the wildlife or experiencing the weather. God I hope not. I hope up until my end of days I have the energy to get up in the morning, put the kettle on, let the dog out and pull the curtains. I do so hope....

Found writings

2011-06-01T14:32:00.004+01:00

I found these next two pieces of work whilst doing some tidying. The first one was written to my cousin who committed suicide last year. I didn't know him well but am so sorry he has gone so soon. The second piece comes from working nights.

Simon

A shining light,

a beacon bright

that fades.

A silent smile.

A wave goodbye,

today.

Brown eyes deep,

that rarely weep

at all.

I wish I knew you better,

I should have took the time,

I should have understood.

What haunted you.

What haunts us all.

Nights

I hear noises that at first just interest me; then become persistently annoying; then worrying. Shadows and light that flicker in the peripherals of my eyes and make me wonder. That reminds me of old friends, long since left who wonder the corridors at night, still searching for the life they never knew.

Bob' Poems

2011-05-31T15:28:00.002+01:00

Bob Lives Horizontally

Bob said "I want to lie down."
"Are you tired Bob?"
"No" sighs Bob.
"Are you in pain Bob?"
No. I just want to lie down."

Bob Lies Down

Bob lies down
and sleeps.
ZZZZzzzzz.............

Buster

2011-05-30T10:52:00.003+01:00

Buster felt lackluster

So he thought he'd watch a blockbuster

about a man called Thruster

who had a knuckleduster.

The main character was a distruster

and a seriel mistruster.

Buster started to get into a fluster

trying to find a duster

or find the knob to adjust'er

the TV readjuster.

Buster couldn't see through the dusty darkness

of the badly filmed blockbuster

so with all the energy he could muster

he turned it off.

And threw it on the composter

(and went to sleep).

Dix

Boomerang Generation

2011-05-27T22:19:00.002+01:00

Busty girl leaves home and moves to a

Dusty room in someone else's house. It smells so

Fusty and made her sneeze, the

Musty atmosphere catches her breath.

Gusty winds made the windows rattle,

Rusty radiators that are only ever warm.

Frosty breath follows her like a bloom,

Crusty carpets crackle under foot, so she uses her

Trusty mobile and cries to her mum.

Busty girl goes home.

Dix

This was an exercise to create something from a page of the rhyming dictionary. Fun and interesting - poetry - not sure.

Squeak and Bubble

2011-05-25T17:12:00.004+01:00

Bob said "I want bubble and squeak for tea today."

"But we only have bubble and squeak on Boxing Day?"

Bob though for a while.

"Fuck it, fire up the frying pan woman. It's bubble and squeak for tea."

Dix

BR -WOW 366

2011-05-25T11:42:00.003+01:00

I know I have talked about this book before but just wanted to say how much I enjoyed it. 366 little stories written in 366 words. Some contrite to the limitations, others absolutely brill. Some moralistic, some fantasy, SF - really all sorts of genres and all sorts of writers. This book is a compilation for charity and a really good pick and delve read (if you know what I mean).

A keeper.

Dix

Anxiety

2011-05-24T19:57:00.003+01:00

I have thought a lot today about anxiety. The guy I am working with (he displays autistic tendencies and has a learning disability) is the most sensitive person I ever met to anxiety - not just his own but anybody and everybody around him. It is really strange - like he can sense it and then somehow turns it in on himself. It is also very sad.

I think anxiety is a terrible thing - I know I suffer with anxiety - that I can worry over everything and nothing - that I worry about what might be when really what will be, will be. Perhaps I have been given the chance to work with this man to help me understand how futile anxiety can be. Sometimes I look at him at see a great big ball of 'flight', his body desperate to get away from the feelings but unable. He doesn't fight, well not as you or I see it but instead he turns it on himself and hurts himself. Its a terrible thing to see and a terrible thing to try and help. When I am with him I want the world to be, well perfect. I want it to be quiet and beautiful and loving and kind. I know this cannot be but wish it could be. He could so do with some 'peace and love man'.

Of course the real way to help him is to give him the tools to help him deal with life, the ups and the downs, the good and the bad. And that is what we must try to do - trouble is it is not so easy with someone so anxious without some of the coping tools many of us take for granted.

I hope that in the next few months we all find a way to help him have a different life - he deserves it. We all deserve it.

Maybe even I deserve things to be better. I know I probably wont get that 'break', that bit of good luck that would make my life better but hope that I will find another way. Maybe that is what working with this man is trying to show me.

Dix

Ageing and Time

2011-05-23T21:26:00.004+01:00

I remember when I was pregnant and when my children were very young that time really really dragged. I always seemed to be waiting for another time, or for visitors, or for the washing to dry, a TV programme to come on etc etc. It felt like each day went on forever and that my life would always be like that. I would wake up in the morning and find I had this everlasting space where I could take my time to get things done (or not), where the day stretched before me and the evening would slowly come.

I remember when I had a conversation with someone much older than me who said, 'enjoy love, it doesn't last - as you get older time starts to rush by and there is never enough'. I can't even remember who told me this but I remember not believing them. How could this be?

Now I am fifty and my life rushes by, I wake up in the morning always longing for a little longer in bed, even on the beautiful sunny mornings we have had recently. Then I get up and do the morning chores - I feed the animals and let the dog out for a wee, I empty the dishwasher and the washing machine and hang the washing out - rush to shower and wash my hair before hoping I have enough time to take the dog on the beach for a reasonable (or if I am lucky a long walk), before going to work, or out, or shopping, or hoping I can find time to do housework or reading or watch some daytime TV, or if I am really lucky maybe even do something creative.

And then the day is gone - I am home from work - often bloody tired - trying to find time to do the ironing and potter around the garden a bit, or sewing or reading etc, etc. And then I find myself longing for my bed (normally about now, and as I type this I am thinking if I go to bed early I might find it easier to get up in the morning).

And the day is gone, again.
And the week is gone, again.
And the month is gone, again.
And the year is gone, again.
And I find myself at 50 with time rushing past me uncontrollable and longing for a quiet time.

I suspect if I am still blogging at 60 or 70 or even 80+ then this might be a very different blog - it might be talking about how slow life is again. The days dragging forever, waiting to die (well I won't say that but that is how I might feel).

Dix

Did you know?

2011-05-22T07:46:00.004+01:00

Did you know -

it's the fashion for boys to wear pink underwear.

They have to have their trousers hanging down -

to show them off.

Dix

BR - the Finker Question

2011-05-22T07:35:00.003+01:00

I have just finished this book and to be honest I am not sure why I kept with it. I brought it because I read it was the first humorous book to win the Booker. I thought this sounded good and it was worth a try (I waited until it came out in paperback though as it was expensive in hardback).

I have to admit it had humour in it, it made me smile a couple of times but in the end I felt like I was reading something that was, well frankly, labouring the point. I felt like I was reading something that maybe wasn't really meant for me, that somehow I wasn't in the right club, the right race, the right intellectual band to read this book - and I hate that. I didn't really understand what the question was? The characters were strange, particularly the main character somehow he didn't quite add up - it was full of sadness and did portray that terrible feeling of sadness and loss well. The ending was low and somehow I felt like sadness had won - I know there is a place for endings like this but I have to admit generally they are not so much for me. Nobody felt like they learnt anything and I guess as the reader I felt like I hadn't learnt anything.

It did make me think about being Jewish (obviously I am not) and what that might mean, what that means as an political, racial and identity issue. But somehow it felt like in doing this it was basically 'taking the mickey' and this did not feel comfortable. I realise that might have been what the author was trying to achieve and maybe he wanted us to feel uncomfortable but in doing so I wish I had cared more about the characters - I wish I had cared at all.

This book is not a keeper or something I would recommend to others yet I suspect it may be a book I will remember for a long time - strange that.

So now I have to return to my huge pile of un read books and choose something else. I want to read something that grabs me, that makes me want to turn the page and stay awake and laugh or cry and mostly makes me sad it had finished.

Any ideas.

Dix

Another fab pressie

2011-05-20T11:13:00.003+01:00

My mate Lenny also sent me this painting - isn't it cool. I am pretty sure it is based on a trip we all took to London when we visited the Tate Modern. This was a scene from the underground when I had had a couple too many of this wonderful raspberry cocktail and was just a little well, tipsy. I am hoping Lenny will explain this painting more - I think I am the blonde with the big red mouth (I wonder why) but will let you know more, I hope.

Both the works are being framed up and put up in the lounge. I love original work - always have and I love it when people make things for me. I have some great notebook covers that JC has made and carry one with me all the time - I always cherish things like this, totally original and irreplaceable.

Love to my great mates and hope to see you soon.

dix

The Birthday Presents

2011-05-19T19:01:00.003+01:00

I received this present from my friend Luna Lenny who is currently living in France - it is fab. It is her version of one of my Bob poems and I love it. It feels strange to have someone write a Bob poem but also amazing (if that makes sense).

Bob Went on Holiday (to Lenny's)

Bob twiddles his thumbs
"I'm bored," said Bob.
... "But you've only just got here"
"Yeah, and it ALREADY SHIT"
"Oh," ......... "Sorry, Bob."
.......................................
.................................
................................
"That's fiftenn minutes of my life
I'm NEVER Getting back."
......................BYE BYE, Bob

Witches' Knickers

2011-05-16T19:50:00.002+01:00

Witches’ Knickers by Ghillain Potts

A plastic bag blew along the street and up into a tree.
“Hey, witches’ knickers!” said Freddie
“What? Where?” said Megan.
“There! In the tree. Look!”
Megan looked up. In the top of the tree was an orange plastic bag. The wind tugged at it.
“That’s not knickers!” Megan told him. “That’s a bag. From the supermarket.”
“No, it’s some witch’s knickers. See, they swoop down on their broomsticks and they don’t see the tree in the dark till the last minute and the tree grabs their knickers as they swoosh past and – no knickers!”
Hamid came along. “What’re you looking at?” he asked.
“Witches’ knickers,” said Freddie, pointing.
“Oh, right.” Hamid nodded.
The bag fought the tree. The wind pulled. The bag puffed up.
Megan sniffed. “So why would a witch be wearing a plastic bag for knickers, anyway?”
“Ah!” said Freddie. “Plastic bags are windproof, OK? And when the witch flies around on her broomstick, it’s windy, OK? And the wind is cold. So to stop the wind making her bum cold, she pulls a bag on over her real knickers!”
“Freddie,” said Hamid. “Nobody could wear a plastic bag. Where would you put your legs?”
“Umm. Through the handles?” Freddie grinned.
“Don’t be daft.” Megan told him. “That wouldn’t work.”
“Yes it would! Witches have awfully thin legs.” Said Freddie.
“Rubbish!” Megan sniffed. “What you would have to do is cut the two bottom corners off and put your legs through the holes. Then you could put some string through the handles and tie it around your waist.”
Freddie shrugged. “OK, so that’s what they do.”
The bag filled with the wind and jerked at the tree.
“I bet the witch’s come back and she’s tugging it.” Said Freddie.
The bag pulled free and whirled up and up.
“It’s escaped!” shouted Hamid. “Go, bag, go!”
“And it wasn’t a witch’s knickers.” Said Megan. “because there weren’t any holes in the bottom. So there!”
That night, Megan put on her black robe and her black cloak and tied her pointy black hat tightly under her chin.
Then she put on her orange plastic-bag knickers, got on her broomstick and flew out of the window.

I found this book in Waterstones bookshop, reduced because the cover was damaged. Most of the stories (all written in 366 words) are either good, bad or ok. But this particular story really took my attention. I would love that every carrier bag floating around was a pair of witches' knickers and when I see one now I always say 'witches knickers' to myself. I know it is a very different image from American Beauty where he video a bag floating around his yard but it makes me smile. This is definately the sort of short story, and particularly children short story that I would like to be able to write. It just made me smile and I hope it makes you smile too. And hope the author Ghillain Potts doesn't mind me blogging it here.

Jangling Edge

2011-05-15T10:59:00.004+01:00

I feel on edge.
My nerves are jangling.
Please.

I feel like shouting,
shouting to release.
Please -

I need to calm
down my jangling nerves.
Please ...

I fell the urge,
the urge to be alone
Please let me be.

Please leave me
Please leave me alone.
Please give me time to be alone
Please give me time to chill
and find me!

by Dix

My Irish English Teacher

2011-05-14T16:16:00.004+01:00

When I was thirteen we got a new English teacher. He was Irish. He spoke with a Irish accent, a shortish man (or so I remember) always wearing a pin stripped suit, if somewhat rumpled, and white hair and beard.

I went to a Secondary Modern School which meant I had failed my 11 plus and also meant that basically not a lot was every expected of me academically. Most of the time we sort of looked at bits of writing and bit of literature and bits of poetry and it felt like we were never really expected to understand it, never expected to care.

This man tried to introduce us to good literature, he talked about Shakespeare and poetry and literature. He tried to educate us. Trouble was he was Irish. I never knew whether he came from Southern or Northern Ireland (my memory of his soft accent made me think he came from Southern Ireland) but at that time, with the political atmosphere of the IRA and terrorism and bombing in the UK - it didn't matter to me. I heard on the TV that we were at war with Ireland (well basically we were) , that they wanted to maime and kill us. My dad used to visit London sometimes and I was terrified he would get blown up by an Irish bomb. It was a frightened time and I wasn't old enough to understand or even try to understand Irish politics - certainly nothing I saw on TV tried to show me another side to the story. Also my father was a devoutly religious man, being a strong Church of England Protestant so I was very influenced by his prejudice of Catholicism and what that might represent.

My teacher never had a chance - I just argued, played up, called him terrible names and was totally uncooperative. This was not the norm for me, often I was a quiet child who kept my head down and tried to get through the day. Yet he tried to teach us stuff that I now wish I had listened too - I wish I had discovered them then, some I wish I know now.

He left after a few months - it's amazing he lasted that long - it must have been hell working in a Norfolk country school with uneducated, uneducatable kids who just didn't want to hear him.

I often think about him - I often regret that missed opportunity to learn. I wish I knew what happened to him or could even remember his name. I am sorry I was such an awful pupil. I hope he found a school where he could teach and pupils could learn from him.

He once told the class that we would never learn anything - that we deserved the education we got. Harsh but with him this was probably true. I am glad I have fought to recieve and education, worked hard and got to the age of 50 with a better understanding and a way of looking at both sides (well sometimes).

Wish I could tell him that.

Going to the Tip

2011-05-09T10:25:00.003+01:00

I know I have talked about this before on my blog but today I am taking a trip to the tip. Just really taking a couple of broken bits and garden waste - the thing is I have been putting it off for days and I was not sure why. I know the local tip can be very busy and sometimes you have to sit in the car in a queue waiting your turn but I don't think it is this that has made me reticent.

The thing is I have a bit of a magpie personality - I am not the worst but neither am I great. I collect bits - books particularly and I hate, I mean really hate things that are good going to the tip. If I get rid of anything useful I have to take it to the charity shop or it bothers me. It sits in my mind as wasteful thing to do. I am a bit 'anal' about recycling, I hate it when I see tin cans and bottles in ordinary bins when they should be in the recycling. I have sometimes gone as far as taking them out and putting them in a recycling bin - especially if there is one close. I know I nagged at college about people putting rubbish in the right bins. So when I get to the tip I mustn't look at all the really good stuff that is just going in the bin, garden furniture that is perfectly good but just might need a coat of paint, wooden furniture that is reusable or would make excellent fire wood, paintings, rugs, bikes and toys - the list goes on.

I just have to shut my eyes and get on with disposing of my rubbish.

Shut my eyes and not look at what other people are dumping.

Shut my eyes and not think about giving wasteful dumpers dirty looks.

Shut my eyes and not think about asking them for that perfect little wicker chair.

Shut my eyes and get on with throwing my rubbish away.

Dix

Mind you I might take some money and see what they have in the recycle shop - I'm looking for a hideous print to paint (long story and another post hopefully). Old habits die hard.

A Second hand poetry book

2011-05-08T21:07:00.004+01:00

I may have mentioned this before but I like buying second hand poetry books - I will spend ages browsing and enjoying them before making cheap purchases. This book cost me a pound and has some wonderful work in it. I think some, or maybe all of it, is very female and so for me easy to empathise with but I still think others will enjoy this work. I am going to blog some of my favourites over the next few weeks. I hope you enjoy.

Is This Where I Was Going? by Natasha Josefowitz

Today's Women

We are

Today's women

Born Yesterday

Dealing with tomorrow.

Good Management Potential

If I'm assertive,

I'm seen as aggressive.

If I'm aggressive

I'm a bitch.

I won't be promoted.

Let's try it again.

If I'm nonassertive,

I'm seen as a patsy.

If I'm a patsy

I won't be promoted.

Let's try it once more.

If I'm very careful,

I can go unnoticed.

If I'm unnoticed,

no one will know

I want to be promoted.

Any suggestions?

Stereotypes

She said to him

"The academic life must be pleasant

You're a professor, how nice!"

He said to her,

"Well, maybe someday

you'll marry one"

She said to him,

"Why should I marry one

when I can be one?"

Promotion

If she wants to move up

but he wants to move in,

one of them will move out

and it won't be him.

Can't Do It All!

If I do this

I won't get that done

If I do that

this will slip by

If I do both

neither will be perfect.

Not everything worth doing

is worth doing well.

All poems by Natasha Josefowitz - blogged with admiration.

A Poem by Boy (with help from me)

2011-05-06T21:17:00.003+01:00

A SPELL TO MAKE ME RICH

Heart from a horse
Followed by engine from a Porsche

Leg from a shiny lizard
Followed by a big snowy blizzard

Brain from a dog
Followed by a thick smoky smog

Ear from an owl
Followed by a big angry scowl

Arm from a spider
Followed by a cool pint of cider

Eye from a frog
Followed by a nice smelling hot dog

Head from a fish
Followed by a great golden dish

Foot from a cat
Followed by a spinning hat.

An exercise in rhyming couplets for Boy's homework - his basic idea with help from my rhyming dictionary and a few adjectives.

A poem by Miriam Dorothy Tripp

2011-05-02T19:49:00.003+01:00

A bird now rests as high can be
On topmost twig of nearest tree
And watches, waits til red is grey
But still is loathe to go away
Both hardly sway uplifted twig
For birdies feet are not so big
And weight in grams so very low
‘tis hardly that the tree could know
Thy presence there; although dost bear
Thee, high up in the winter’s air,

Adjacent tree now bears a friend,
Cheep cheep and does she comprehend?
Appearing now that nearby tree
And birdie friend come sit with me
Uplifted wings – she’s come to thee
Together cheep contentedly
Then, off and up and swoop away
Perhaps they’ll come another day,

By Miriam Dorothy Tripp

I never met the lady who wrote this poem. In fact I never knew she existed until after she had died (she died in March this year). She was not directly related to me but was Boy's aunt. He (and I) were sad that we were never told about her, that he was never able to send her a card or meet her. We just found out she died and her brother sent a little money for Boy. She was in her late 70's so had a longish life. I know little else, or really nothing about her. Just a story that sounded like she had a sad life. Maybe her life wasn't sad, maybe really it was ok. I don't know.

This poem is strangely old fashioned yet I like it. It makes me think of the author and wish I had met her. I visualised a little robin or robin in a tree cheeping away contentedly. Apparently this poem was published in our local daily paper (I don't know when) and somehow I thought I must give it another chance of an audience, however small.

Hope you enjoy it; hope it gives you a little picture of nature; hope you remember the lady who wrote it if even in you minds eye.

Mog

End of Dream Time

2011-04-14T10:14:00.003+01:00

I am fifty next week.

At the moment I am really unwell with the most terrible cold bug that will not go.

Bringing up boy is much much harder than I thought it was going to be.

My friend has moved away permanently.

In fact I don't really have much in the way of friends at all. I have made a list for my party and lots of people aren't coming - uhmm - are they telling me something?

I can't get a job - even one that I don't really want.

I am fat - really overweight, probably the biggest I have ever been and this makes me feel valueless and ugly and useless. It is probably the reason I can't throw off this dam bug as well.

So where am I in life.

Every job I have ever had, even when I have really enjoyed them and more importantly been really good at I have left, got bored, fed up, felt I wasn't good enough and moved on - or tried to. Now I don't really have a job (well bringing up boy is a job but I ain't doing to well at that at the moment). I really want a job and I want to stay in it, be reliable (another thing I ain't too good at) and have a job that I can see and make myself have a future in.

How am I going to make this happen?

I think it is time to stop the dream. All my life I have wanted to write, think that I am good enough to write and be published. Trouble is even when I have the time I don't. I just don't. There is always an excuse. My life is full of excuses for not doing, for not being.

Well it has to stop.

I don't write, I only dream about it. Yes I went to University and got a degree in Creative Writing and what has that achieved. Basically nothing. If I really wanted to write I would, I would stop making excuses. I would stop using it as an excuse for not getting on with my life, getting a job and being a successful, useful person.

If I had a job that paid OK I could go and see my friend in Scotland, I could afford to get the things done on the car. I could do a bit more with my time outside work instead of sitting and dreaming.

Today the dreaming is stopping - I have to get on my life and leave it all behind. I think I will be happier for it. I know I will be happier for it.

Dix

Ill again!!!

2011-04-06T14:49:00.002+01:00

I can't believe I'm feeling ill again. Same old, same old. I feel hot and cold, full of yukky phlegm, running nose, headache, knackered, headachy (if that is a word) and cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough. I have always succumbed to things easily but since I had my tonsils out these colds had not been so virulent or often. But I had that grotty flu at Christmas and since then I have gone down with one thing after the other. And it is pissing me off. Today my nose is making a whistling, squeaky noise all of its own accord. It's like it has nothing to do with me at all and is just whistling away on its own. At least it shows I am breathing but hey, think I could do without the side effects and don't get me into the side effect of constantly coughing. I am a woman of a certain age and this constant coughing is well, putting it not very nicely, giving me damp drawers! The weather is brilliant today and all I want to do is curl up on the settee, dozing and watching crap day time TV (not Homes Under the Hammer - I still like that). It's just not fair. Please cold go away, stop my nose whistling, stop me snoring at night like a hog and stop me feeling either extremely hot or shivery cold. I hate being ill. Dix

Postcard Exercises

2011-03-29T18:34:00.003+01:00

Dear Jean

The weather is glorious; company is fine! Can't believe I haven't done this before. You were right, as always. Just what I needed. I will be home later than planned though. Your William Billy xxxx

Snooze

The phone buzzes and trembles; Paul Simon calls me Al. I stretch and grapple to find the silence button. I am momentarily awake. I curl back into my warm space. 5 minutes to be in any world. Flying around blue skies, swooping and watching, or swimming across green oceans and floating forever. Or maybe just doing and being whatever, whoever I want.

Dix

This is an exercise I did recently on writing a piece of postcard fiction. Two ideas that I hope give an idea of a story.

Dix

Self Loathing (by food)

2011-03-27T15:10:00.002+01:00

All I do is eat and eat and eat and Eat. Past full. A whole packet of cheese sandwich biscuits, quantities of fruit and chocolate too. All I do is eat and eat and eat and Eat. Past fat. Milk chocolate Button Easter Eggs, devoured whilst driving, untasted, un-enjoyed, gone. All I do is eat and eat and eat and Eat. Past life. Mature cheese, broken lump by lump from vast blocks; chewed and savoured unobserved. All I do is eat and eat and eat and Eat. Past morbid. Crap food nags carbs and sugar, momentarily ease my stress and sadness. All I do is eat and eat and eat and Eat. To death. Dix

Silence

2011-03-22T16:27:00.003Z

He wished he hadn’t spoken those last words.

He wished he could take them back. In his head they were reversing back into his mouth like an old 45 record being pushed backward against the needle.

But he couldn’t.

Her face creased, momentarily. Her eyes were full of hurt and pain. She was staring at him then looked down, her head and shoulders beaten and drooping.

The room went really really quiet, not that comfortable silence of two people secure in each others presence but a ‘cut the air’ almost menacing feel that left him wanting to escape.

They both just stood, still. Neither appearing to know what to say next. He shuffled his feet, noticing the grey green scuff on his white trainers and mentally noting to clean them soon.

Still nothing was said.

He looked over at her feet; they were naked, clean and beautiful, beautiful in a way that only female feet can be. Each toe nail glazed with a pearlescent pink varnish, immaculately done, no chips or messy edges.

Her feet were still, unmoving as she was, head down, body slightly stiff but controlled.

He just wanted her to speak. If she got angry that would be his punishment. She should scream at him, unfurling the hurt into him. He would accept it happily; he would welcome her anger. He would look up and listen, blinking in all the right places, accepting of whatever hurts she would stab at him – just to make it ok. She could list his numerous faults, his physical abnormalities, his weaknesses his tactlessness. He knew them all so well.

She just had to break the silence, to make it be alright.

Maybe he should list them himself; maybe he could throw himself at her mercy, beg and plead for her anger. Maybe he could say he didn’t mean it. That he was sorry.

He just needs her to break the silence.

Dix

This is the result of a writing exercise I did today. I really enjoyed it and felt I had created something I liked and has potential. The exercise started with He wished he .... and we wrote for approx 15 mins.

BR - One Day by David Nichols

2011-03-17T06:57:00.002Z

I have looked at this book many times over the last couple of years and thought it would be something I would like but not got it. Then I saw it recommended on My Life in Books (can't remember who by but loved the sound of it) so was in a proper bookshop so got it.

It is wonderful - one of those books that you can't put down, one of those books that has moved me in so many ways - at times I felt depressed by the female character because I could understand her life and the male character reminds me of someone I once knew well.

I loved the dialogue between them, their thoughts and feelings hit home so much. The words carried me along with them.

This is a wonderful book, modern, alive and just well, wonderful. I kept reading and reading desperate to get to the end but never wanting it to stop. These were real people to me, real people in my life who I was watching live their lives, making mistakes and doing the right thing, having a great and awful time.

And then, as per normal the problem arose. The ending. I often have a problem with endings and I knew 100 - 150 pages towards the end that things weren't going the way I hope, expected or wanted. Then it happened, someone died and I didn't want that. I didn't want it to end this way. This isn't how life should be (and these people were alive to me).

Where is the happy ending that I so long for; or even the satisfactory ending.

Now I have a dilemma - I loved the book, it is definitely a keeper but it is the whole 'killing off Dobby' thing all over again - as a wanna be writer this ending doesn't feel right - it isn't what I wanted but is it what I would have done. I finished the book Tuesday and have had a day to think about it - how else could it have ended - happy ever after - them getting everything they wanted - dull but satisfying. Not happy ever after because certain wishes aren't fulfilled. Yeah that would have been OK. Not being together - making new lives apart remembering the good time - this might have been what I would have done. But death, hmm not at all sure.

I know I will read this book again someday - I will see different aspects of the characters, perhaps it won't be so relevant to where I am today - who knows. Will I feel different about the ending - not sure - maybe, maybe I do a little already.

What has it really made me think; wish I could write like this; wish I could make a reader connect the way I feel I have. Maybe then I will understand about endings, how difficult it is to satisfy the reader at the end - who knows.

Whatever though - read this book, enjoy it; hate it; love it but read it. I really really recommend it.

Dix

Hurray, hurray, hurray

2011-03-17T06:55:00.002Z

Yesterday evening the gas was delivered.

We have gas; we have heat and we have achieved a victory (kind of).

And we are warm throughout the house.

Lovely

Dix

Begging on the telephone 2

2011-03-14T08:06:00.004Z

I kinda won.

I was so angry at the way the horrid little man on the other end treated me that I decided to take it further. I wrote to the Managing Director.

Guess what? Within 48 hours I had a nice man on the phone, apologising and accepting that we had done our best - accepting our position - yes. We are getting a delivery of gas - only half a tank but then that is all we wanted. Yes I have to pay more a month but I knew that anyway - I had offered that to the other little 'pratt' and that is not the word I used at the time but he wasn't having any.

Anyway the nice new man, who had the same first name as the horrid one, Adam, gave me his direct telephone number (another bonus as it is a 01 number not a 08 number so I get it free in my package) and told me any further problems to ring him again.

I feel empowered, I did the right thing by going straight to the top - should I have to - NO - but glad I did - no money doesn't mean I have no rights, I have no power.

It worked and I feel better and that it good - not sure where I was going if it hadn't worked, probably the local press to see if I could shame them into something.

Glad I didn't have to.

Dix

Off to the Dump

2011-03-07T10:26:00.003Z

My task for today is to take stuff to the dump. Not very exciting I know but quite cathartic as it means more stuff is got rid of. I am probably making a mistake going on a Monday as I suspect lots of people will be queued up to dump their stuff after the weekend.

I have stuff that has been sitting outside waiting to be disposed of for a couple of months so getting rid of it will be a positive thing. Trouble is I think I feel like my life is a bit in the 'dump' right now. I can't get a job that I really want and just get rejected, rejected, rejected. I don't seem to be getting any where with my writing. Sometimes I sit down or just before I go to sleep and I have the most wonderful words inside my head but every time I try to write them down they just seem like crap - crap to be dumped.

I know I am feeling like this because I am struggling to get a job I want, something that has not really happened to me before, because I am being so lethargic about my creativity, because my mind is still full of worries about money and bills and how to find the money to get the car serviced and on and on and on. But somehow I have to snap myself out of this rubbish and get back to the positive.

I am 50 soon, something I am looking forward to, I have a job that is OK, the people I work for (with) are great just the cuts making it seems so depressing. I get pleasure from my work some days - more than some people can say.

So what have I got to do now; eat less, overeating is making me feel like crap, move more - I love my daily walk with the dog (about 1 1/2 walking) but maybe I need to exert myself more, write something, doesn't matter what but do it, sleep less and do more, be happy with my lot and optimistic about finding solutions to my problems.

Easy yeah?

Dix

BR - Michael McIntyre Life and Laughing My Story

2011-03-06T10:43:00.003Z

As I have shown before I am rather partial to a biography, especially of people I like. I wanted this one for Christmas but got Stephen Fry and Michael Caine instead (which is OK as I wanted them to) and only got this one as my daughter found it cheap in WH Smith's because the cover was torn.

I do like Michael McIntyre, I find him funny both to look at and his comedy. It is generally funny but kind and no so far of the wall that I end up thinking Huh. I was really hoping that I would like him as a person in this book and the good news is - I do. He is a little posh, he is a little strange but that is what I really like about him. The book shows him as soft and generally kind, over-confident when really he is not confident at all. He seems to like people, and treat his friends and family well. I like this in a person, famous or not.

The book made me laugh just because of some of the stupid things he did and the terrible angst he had as a teenager (God I could recognise that). He loves his wife, he loves his kids, he respects others inside and outside of show business, he loves his parents and sister. Just a generally nice man.

I know that this could all be rot - just written to keep up the persona but somehow it felt real enough. I enjoyed the book because he is 15 years younger than me so I recognised what he was talking about re music, culture etc and it made me laugh.

I hope he really is this nice man. I would recommend this as an easy read, especially if you like him. It made me laugh, it made me sad for him, finishing it left me feeling good. What more can you ask for in a book.

Dix

Passionate TV

2011-03-02T07:07:00.004Z

Firstly, excuse the photo of Anne Robinson - I am not a fan of her style and never will be - but I am a huge fan of this program My Life in Books. It is a half hour program shown on BBC2 at 6.30pm where famous people (I am careful here not to use the word celebrity because I feel they are not celebrities but people who have become famous for lots of reasons, not just TV but politics and writers etc. They come on the show and chose books that they love and talk about them; introduce them to the audience and in away introduce themselves to the audience.

There has been a wide variety of people on the show who have all been interesting and have all had something to say. I would be a liar if I said I wanted to read all the books that they recommended but certainly there are many that I would like to read; many that I have already read and many that I wish I could read (different from wanting to read because some of them seem like books I would struggle to get through but wish I had the stamina).

I have found the writers particularly passionate (well I would, wouldn't I) - they talk about books in language that I use, with the passion that I feel. They hold and smell and caress books in the way that I do, and remember the characters and plot like they are old friends. They talk about the memories evoked by reading this book and how they changed their lives or how their lives where changing when they read it. They talk about memories of family, of lovers, of children, even of world events and politics. They talk about love.

I record this program and watch it at least twice - just to feel the joy of the reader - the joy of their language - their joy for books. I feel that this is my program, this is something that I can totally connect to and love (not so much on the TV for me like this anymore).

I hope the BBC keep this program (maybe once a week). Its OK if it is on at a later, even obscure time, those of us who love it will find away.

The program is part of World Book Year (Week?) and has made me think about which books I would talk about on the program - so here is my list of My Life in Books (in no particular order).

The Colour Purple by Alice Walker - I studied this book and though to some it may be obvious this is the first time anyone told me that Jesus may not have been white, he was not the white man with beard and long hair that I had seen on the cross all my childhood. It made me think about what faith was really about - how we all fit in the world of God. It made me think about status and position and pain and suffering and survival and love. It made me think and for that I will always be truly thankful.

The Sea by John Banville - I love this book because of the way it is written, the pure beauty of the writing - I read it with just pure jealously and wishing I could write words this beautifully. I have to say I never really loved the main character, not sure he is really that nice a person, not sure I totally thought the plot and storyline were brilliant but all that is forgiven for such beautiful words. Just to read with pure envy and admiration is an amazing experience.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig - I read this book when I was a teenager and loved it, I guess maybe I wasn't totally sure what it was saying, that I didn't have the knowledge or experience to truly understand his words, but I read it again whilst I was at Uni and really understood why it had impacted on my so much. A basic story weaved around a philosophy for life, a philosophy of loss and love. I tried to explain this book to my college classmates and failed dismally - something I will always regret.

Rebecca by Daphine Du Maurier - I am not really a huge classics fan, really not into the angst and annoying women of many of the Austen, Bronte clans but I love the second Mrs De Winter. (Think that is right???). I love her outsideness, how she lives in the world she feels she doesn't understand and doesn't fit with. Her gentle soul that is so easily hurt and bruised but yet in the end is strong. The wonderful picture of the awful first wife, written so well she appears in the readers mind like some awful beautiful witch, the weak husband, the wonderful scenery and house. I revisit this book often to remind myself of its beauty.

The Essential Spike Milligan - I love Spike Milligan, I particularly love his poetry. I wish I had got to know his work when he was alive, had been able to watch him on TV and explore his older work. I didn't. I read his poetry as much as possible, I buy anything of his I see second hand and am trying to get a full catalogue of his work (particularly his poetry). It makes me laugh, it makes me cry, it makes me think about so much. To me he was so underrated, possibly so misunderstood by his peers and certainly be later generations. I think readers will return to his work in the future and see something new, something wonderful. That it what I see.

Amy Johnson Queen of the Air by Midge Gillies - this is a very personal book and one which I will never forget. Amy Johnson flew with my grand father - we have family photographs of them together and family stories of their relationship! I never really knew who she was, and still might not (this is a biography) but read this book to see if I could understand how my grandfather got to fly planes, what got him there. It was so interesting and I searched the pages for what might have been a clue to him, a mention of him, a feel of him. (There is a piece that might be about him but I can't tell and the author was unable to identify this man either - that I believe is a story for the future). This book is well written and interesting and helped me try to understand a man I never knew, who died in his plane crash in 1936 but has always seemed so exciting to me.

At the end of the show they are asked which book is their guilty pleasure, which of these would they take on holiday if they could only take one. Of course I would take them all but I suspect my guilty please is the Spike Milligan because he can evoke some many emotions and I can see something different each time I read them.

There are many more books I could list here (the obvious omission being Harry Potter) but these are the ones I have chosen here and now.

I would love to know what your life in books is, what is your little list of books and why? Care to share?

Dix

Begging on the telephone

2011-02-24T18:16:00.004Z

Today has not been a good day for me - I feel grumpy - I have felt grumpy most of the day. Not really sure why - maybe because I have to go to work tonight - it is my last night though so that is something to look forward to (no more sleepness night walking miles up and down corridors, cleaning and caring). Maybe I am already a bit tired although I actually feel ok, my throat is still a bit iffy but otherwise I feel at last the grotty cold is starting to subside.

Then my day got worse. I ended up begging some snotty little boy on the phone to please deliver us some gas when all he did was basically read No off the screen. Now we do still owe the gas company a little (from monday £100) not a huge amount and all winter we have hugely economised with gas, often being cold, taking showers rather than baths and trying to make it last. It is now into the red (or black on my tank) and we really need a delivering. (Please bear in mind that we have paid them £50 per month, every month and it has been a bloody cold winter).

He would not move, he would not compromise, he would not even listen, he would not let me speak to his boss, he didn't empathise in anyway, in fact it was obvious he didn't give a crap. I was so angry and so upset I cried. I got off the phone and wept. How have I been reduced to this by an uncaring company and a little 'twat' on the phone.

So we turned off the heating, made plans to not have any baths in the near future and hope that the gas will keep going a little while longer. Gas heats our hot water and we cook on it. What else can we do?

By the way, according to little 'twat' Calor Gas has no system for helping people who are having difficulty paying large heating bills, according to 'little twat' they just have a debt recovery department. Well big thanks!!!

After calming down and feeling a bit silly for crying - I had a think.

You have to fight, in this country at this time, in our situation, you have to fight for everything. We are poor (that is ok most of the time - I don't need to buy stuff all the time and consumerism has its major faults) but it doesn't mean I can't be proud, I can't be intelligent, I can't try.

So we rang back and got the managing directors address - will it help? Who knows but if it doesn't I really am prepared to take it further - the press, the TV - well yeah - because we are not the only ones, we are not bad people, we are just in a bad situation. So here goes - a nice but firm letter to the MD asking for flexibility and compromise - a little help yeah.

I would rather hold my head up and try to fight than just be a bloody victim all the time. Will he care or help - watch this space.

Broken New Years Resolutions

2011-02-23T17:32:00.004Z

I always make New Years Resolutions (NYR's) - normally the same old stuff, do more; lose weight; be more; write more; write everyday; get a better job etc, etc, etc.

This year I didn't do all those things - well I did in my mind but mainly I concentrated on two NYR's - one was to be more positive, more optimistic about life. I have tried really hard to do this and apart from when I have been feeling crappy and ill, have tried to keep to it. I feel better for although I still have to regularly remind myself, I like it, I life living life to the positive - it helps - it make life better, it makes life easier.

The other NYR's was to stop buying books. This was really about saving money. As anyone will know who regularly reads my blog, money is tight and in the main I have stop being a consumer - I have had to. But somehow I have kept buying books, normally cheaply new or second hand but was still regularly buying books. In fact I have a massive pile to read and keep thinking one day I will have the time and the energy to just sit and plough through them.

I have failed miserably. It is not yet the end of February and I bet I have purchased the best part of twenty books - some second hand (I am still indulging my passion for second hand poetry books), some cheaply new (the pound shop has some pretty amazing hard backs and I picked one up the other day that was actually signed by the author), some in the Supermarket where £4 can buy a good current novel and today I went to Waterstones and 'bloo' £25 quid on new full price and reduced books.

And you know what I don't feel guilty, I really don't. I love books, I love reading them, I love owning them, I love looking at them and touching them, I love talking about them - I LOVE BOOKS.

So I will continue to buy books (luckily my local town does not have a decent book shop so the opportunity for new books is not so often), I will continue to trade and sell my read books, I will continue to love them. I will continue to find new books, to find other people with the same passion to talk about them. I will continue to buy books.

For what is life without a good book?

Dix

Am I the only one?

2011-02-22T10:33:00.003Z

Is it just me or is anyone else bloody angry about what is happening in this country at the moment. The final straw (and I know there will be many more final straws) that banks have not been paying full tax on their profits. Of course, us, the normal working person who struggles to make ends meets and is trying to cut, cut, cut and take on board the mess the country is in - we have to pay full taxes to the very last penny.

The banks and bankers made this mess but everyone else is just sitting by letting them get away with it. People are just saying it is alright for students to start life with £45,000 debt and no guarantee of a job, it is alright to stop benefits for those who just might need them, keep on paying benefits for people who have paid little or nothing into the system and don't have a right to the services, to pay £6+ a litre for petrol, to not being able to put the heating on because it is too expensive. to buy valueline, poor quality food because that is all they can afford, to watch support being taken away from those who need it most, the old, the disadvantaged young, those with disabilities.

Is this really OK?

I watch the citizens of other countries stand up and say - we don't want you anymore, we want a new government, we want a new life and I think they are brave, they are optimistic, they still have some optimistism, they are not afraid.

In this country I feel we feel like we have no say, we have only pessimism that all politicians are the same and nothing will change, only get worse if anything, that we are afraid, we have been made afraid by 7/7 and other threats. Maybe we need to get a backbone and be like Tunisia, Egypt and others.

I don't know if I am brave enough but I sure know I would love someone to help me try.

Dix

Blogging and Poetry

2011-02-21T12:33:00.003Z

I feel bad. I really want to keep up my blogging this year and yet it has been over 2 weeks since I last blogged. My excuse - I have been unwell - full of cold and tiredness. At the moment I feel like a 'sicknote' like I am always unwell, always tired and wanting to sleep huge amounts and full of aches and pains. Hopefully this is about to pass and I can look forward to spring time full of energy and renewed optimism.

I haven't been doing much creative, not even reading much but I have managed to un earth a good poet. I have an addiction, and yes it is an addiction, for buy books but especially little poetry books - self published and pamphlets, anything really. Some are good; some are absolutely brilliant; others no so - but all worth exploring and enjoying.

I purchased a little book of poetry by Keith Chandler called A different kind of smoke. It was in my local Oxfam shop and it is signed by the author (another thing I like to collect). So I took it home and have been doing some exploring inside its pages. I like it, I like it very much, some of the poetry has amazing imagery, some really makes me feel (all things I love about poetry). I know nothing about the author - he may be local, he may have written much more. I just checked the book was published in 2001 in Yorkshire (that is probably a big clue). Anyway I just want to show you two of his works here:

The "chicken girl"

they called you, those who tutted, clucked

but wouldn't "interfere" or help

the mother who, moustached retard.

couldn't cope, left you at home all day,

all night, with feathered foster aunts.

Among the dust, the dried sick smell

of chicken mash, the one square yard

of sky, fluff, yuk, hexagonal eyes

of wire, square yard of sluttish sand .........

Aged 10, tiny skull, hands bent back

at the wrist, "unable to communicate

except through head-jerking shrieks"

and, rarely, that self-crooning, sound

hat dustbath, or contentment makes .........

Perched on the social worker's lap

I see your, bright disc-membraned eye

(the other side blurred over, scarred

from unhealed fights) staring back

at the camera as at a bottle cap.

Bottom of the pecking order, you stab

and stab at the dry crust of my heart.

Keith Chandler

How amazing is this, it reminds me of Timothy Winters (Peter Porter) a kind of sad humour of child abuse.

Our Father

a shy stiff serious man. I think

of you as somehow on the brink

of being about to say more

than "good night", one hand on the door -

those warm soft things I try to say

to my son as, finally

tousling hair of kissing cheek,

I tuck him in against the dark.

When (packed off to boarding school)

your letters came, they were full

of news, money sometimes. No fuss

about how we felt. Or missing us.

We must talk more openly... What

made you uncomfortable like that?

Was it your father, hand on door,

dressed in the camouflage of war

not knowing what, or how, to say?

What are you afraid of? Why

can I never thing of you as "Dad"

but just "our Father"? It makes me sad

to stand here, to see you curled

drip-fed, cot-sided like a child,

to leave you in this nursery

of fear, as if with nothing to say.

Keith Chandler

This second piece has such a feel of my own father - who loved me but couldn't show it - as an adult I understood as a child it felt cold and unloved. That was the man he was. Not the same ending (my father died suddenly at 73) but the feeling is there.

Dix

A visit to the dentist

2011-02-09T12:20:00.004Z

Today I visited the Dentist - it was a last minute appointment as I had to change my scheduled appointment because I have a job interview (yay - but another blog I think). Luckily it didn't give me too much time to think about it - I just got up, took the dog for a walk and toddled off to the dentist.

I have to say that this dentist is much nicer than the one I used to visit. He is South African (but aren't all dentist's now) but he is pleasant and very understanding of people's financial situation. It was only a check up but I knew I had broken one of my teeth just before Christmas so that was going to cause a conversation, if nothing else.

I sat in the chair and he began prodding and poking (in a dentist sort of way) and I felt myself literally trying to curling back into myself. Now I don't really like the dentist but have decided that if I want to at least keep a few teeth in my mouth that I need to 'put up with it'. I could taste that metal sweet sort of taste of blood and really wanted to close my mouth (that is unusual for me) and leave - not make a fuss but with confidence. Of course, I didn't - I then tried to take myself off to a happy place - that didn't really work either - I couldn't seem to think of a happy place just a stark white dentist place. Oh Dear.

He looked at my broken tooth and we had a conversation (he had his hands out of my mouth by now), he can fill it but it probably wont do any good as there is not much left to fill, he could take it out but I am really unkeen to loose another tooth as my mouth is starting to getting those funny vertical lines running about a centimetre from my lips (in the places where other teeth have departed my mouth for ever), - note here I don't look totally toothless or anything but I have have six teeth removed, four being my wisdom teeth (say no more) and I do think about it sometimes before smiling at people I don't know. This of course means I smile in a kinda crooked wonky way that is more frightening than smiling and makes people look away quickly with that 'who is this mad woman and why is she growling at me' way.

Or I can have my tooth capped which will cost £199 - a huge amount of money but something I would like to have done. So I explained the above (about keeping whats left of my rotting stones) and that I would have to save up but would like a crown done. He was really nice about, (my old dentist would have made me feel bad for not doing as I was told) and said come back when I had the money, that what was left of the tooth should be OK for now and otherwise just keep looking after them.

So it is over you say - unfortunately not, he went back into my mouth, prodding and poking again and shouting out strange letters and numbers to his assistant. Then he got out that cleaning/drilling sounding thing and cleaning the back of my front teeth, (apparently I need to work harder there to stop the plaque building up). By this time my feet were literally curling, so much so my toes were nearly touching my shins (well slight exaggeration there but you know what I mean). I looked up at his masked face and thought this is like paying for torture and that has never been my thing - I would much rather pay for luxury and pampering.

Then as soon as it began - it was finished. He removed his mask and I rinsed and thanked him (why did I thank him for that torture) and left. After paying the bill £16+ and having some inane conversation with the receptionist (they must have thought - what a strange lady- I left).

I was pleased that I might be able to have a crown (if I can save up), pleased it was over, but mainly pleased that at least we had a conversation and he did treat me like another human being even when he was inflicting pain.

Oh well, don't have to do this again until August (or before if I can save up).

Dix

On My Own

2011-02-07T08:10:00.002Z

Yesterday evening I did something I have wanted to do for ages but have been well, too afraid to do. I went to the cinema on my own. I have missed so many films that other because I didn't know anyone else who wanted to go or I couldn't sort out a time when we could both go. I love going to see a good film at the pictures - it really is a wonderful thing to do. And even though I local cinema is old fashioned, has low and slightly uncomfortable seats and can be well frankly, a bit cool there is no experience like seeing a good film on the big screen.

Going to the pictures on my own was fine, nobody really even looked at me and there was another woman on her own. I just sat at the end and settled myself in and enjoyed the wonderful film - I didn't feel odd, or a Billy No Mates - just a person going to see a film I wanted to see. I didn't feel uncomfortable during the film and frankly just forgot I was on my own I was so engrossed in the film. It is definitely something I will do again - I really want to see the Black Swan film so might do that next weekend although I am told that is a bit scary and not sure I can do scary on might on - but hey, might give it a try.

I went to see The King's Speech and it was every bit as good as a thought it would be. I like Colin Firth but have found him to be a bit stiff in the past but this was perfect for the type of stiff upper class characterisation needed for this part.

I have always been interested in the time in history as it must have been hard for someone who wasn't meant to be King, who hadn't been prepared to be King to end up having to be King at probably one of the hardest times in history - during the Second World War. I never realised that the epileptic prince Johnny was his brother, somehow I thought that was a generation back and in the film his brother came across as a really nasty piece of work (and a committed Nazi which is I think the real reason he was pushed to leave).

The film is everything that is good about British film (apart from having an Australian as Edward - huh why couldn't that have been a British actor but I think the Australian was played by a British actor so I guess that makes sense.

I really recommend it to every one, it is subtle; it is clever; it shows a time in history that many will still remember or like me be very aware of; it deserves all the prizes and accolades that it gets and I hope that is many.

Long may they continue to make wonderful and intelligent films like this one?

Dix

Ps I tried to post this yesterday but for some reason my blog was 'having a moment'.

Feeling ill

2011-02-04T08:56:00.003Z

Wednesday night it started. I just felt grotty. Nothing I could really put my finger on just felt bit sick and tummy was definitely churning. I feel asleep on the settee and woke up a couple of hours later and felt like I had been battered.

You don't really need to know this (but I will tell you anyway) after a couple of very urgent trips to the toilet and needing to expel from both ends I then felt really rough. I fell back asleep on the settee as our bedroom is a long way away from the bathroom. I eventually went to bed but couldn't fall asleep mainly because I feel like someone has put a belt around my chest and is pulling it tightly. Both my arms feel a bit numb and heavy and food holds no joy for me.

Yesterday I managed to drink a little and wasn't very interested in much else. (Those who know me will realise that it doesn't matter if I go a few days without food - I can afford to!). I just wanted to sleep all the time but when I slept it just made me feel grotty.

Today I still have the pain but definitely feel better - my chest is tight but I think I have just pulled muscles.

Trouble is yesterday was my big pay day - I was due to do 2 shifts and earn quite a bit. So now the end of the month will be just as crap and I have probably pissed off work.

Ah well - just got to keep going. I have another job application to fill in today and hand it today so I shouldn't really be doing this but wanted a quick break and blogging is always a good distraction.

Dix

Just a bit of fun

2011-02-03T09:51:00.002Z

Take the last 2 digits of the year in which you were born plus the age you will be this year and it will add up to 111

QUESTIONS

Can you cry under water?

How important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered?

Why do you have to 'put your two cents in'.... but it's only a 'penny for your thoughts'? Where's that extra penny going to?

Once you're in heaven, do you get stuck wearing the clothes you were buried in for eternity?

Why does a round pizza come in a square box?

What disease did cured ham actually have?

How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage?

Why is it that people say they 'slept like a baby' when babies wake up like every two hours?

If a deaf person has to go to court, is it still called a hearing?

Why are you IN a movie, but you're ON TV?

Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground?

Why do doctors leave the room while you change? They're going to see you naked anyway...

Why is 'bra' singular and 'panties' plural?

Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horrible crisp, which no decent human being would eat?

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

If the professor on Gilligan's Island can make a radio out of a coconut, why can't he fix a hole in a boat?

Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? They're both dogs!

If Wile E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that ACME crap, why didn't he just buy dinner?

If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, what is baby oil made from?

If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?

Do the Alphabet song and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star have the same tune? Why did you just try singing the two songs above?

Why do they call it an asteroid when it's outside the hemisphere, but call it a hemorrhoid when it's in your butt?

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

Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are getting dead?

Why do banks charge a fee on 'insufficient funds' when they know there is not enough money?

Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but check when you say the paint is wet?

Why do they use sterilized needles for death by lethal injection?

Why doesn't Tarzan have a beard?

Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but ducks when you throw a revolver at him?

Why do Kamikaze pilots wear helmets?

Whose idea was it to put an 'S' in the word 'lisp'?

If people evolved from apes, why are there still apes?

Why is it that no matter what color bubble bath you use the bubbles are always white?

Is there ever a day that mattresses are not on sale?

Why do people constantly return to the refrigerator with hopes that something new to eat will have materialized?

Why do people keep running over a string a dozen times with their vacuum cleaner, then reach down, pick it up, examine it, then put it down to give the vacuum one more chance?

Why is it that no plastic bag will open from the end on your first try?

How do those dead bugs get into those enclosed light fixtures?

When we are in the supermarket and someone rams our ankle with a shopping cart then apologizes for doing so, why do we say, 'It's all right?' Well, it isn't all right, so why don't we say, 'That really hurt, why don't you watch where you're going?'

Why is it that whenever you attempt to catch something that's falling off the table you always manage to knock something else over?

In winter why do we try to keep the house as warm as it was in summer when we complained about the heat?

How come you never hear father-in-law jokes?

A personal post - being hurt

2011-02-01T10:44:00.002Z

This is a very personal post and one I don't normally put on my blog but today I just have to write it down and get it out of my system as I feel so hurt.

Boy has done something (I can't go into details here) but just to stay it is pretty dirty and gross and he has done something like it before and we have talked about it and he has promised not to do it again - and yet he has.

I feel betrayed, I feel like I am being played - if he just keeps doing what he wants I will keep being nice, giving in and everything we go on as normal. I hear words come out of his mouth and I know they are lies and it reminds me of a friend, who has also been in care, who lies with everything she says. My family keep telling me I am too soft and he is playing me and sometimes I think they are right but other times I think I don't want to be that person who runs the home like a children's home, who treats him like a Looked After Child. And then he does this and I feel hurt and I feel beaten - like I have to be that carer who treats him like a Foster Child because that is the only way he can respond.

I was going to take away his computer consoles but I realise all that does it mean I have got to spend lots of time with him, and he will nag and moan and I will wish he was playing on his games. So I am going to handle it differently - he is going to keep his games and I am going to make him spend time on them - away from me. He has got to see how much he has hurt me; how much he has let me down again.

I have got to start making daily notes, thinking about reporting things back to the Social Worker; treating him like a Foster child because, at the moment, I feel like this is the only way he can respond.

It is not the way I want to live my life; but then neither is this - I feel like whatever I do I lose. Whatever I do - he loses.

Not a great place to be.

Nun's Wooden Leg

2011-01-30T21:36:00.002Z

The tree grows straight up but leaning towards the sun. It has not grown thick but long reaching out through the walls and pushing past the 'long gone roof' of the disused church. No foliage, no leaves, just bare, barren branches weaving around themselves into the sky. The sun rays through them leaving shafts onto the mud floor but somehow it never feels light; it never feels warm here. The walls bear no plaques, no names, no memories of past parishioners - just bricks and stones still standing in defiance against a world that has long forgotten them. Arches and doorways still bent in beautiful curves with stones borders but no doors or windows remain to prop them there.

In the Nave some smoothness remains on the walls, darkened by damp and age and covered in painted graffiti explaining of Kim 4 Ben who once were here and now long gone only their names and love statement remaining. Its cold in the covered area and darkly dim, feeling uncomfortable - not a place to stay a while.

The tree growing out has a story. It is reputed to be the wooden leg of a Nun who was slaughtered at that very spot. Her body and leg left to rot and grow into this tree. The church destroyed along with her body leaving her spirit and soul to grow forever sky ward.

Dix

MInd Haiku

2011-01-29T15:01:00.000Z

Mind Fear

Forgotten words;
muddled memories and fear
of loosing my mind.

Hack my Brain

Of all the things
I miss – I miss my mind the
most. I miss it now.

Dix

Haiku Again

2011-01-28T11:07:00.006Z

This picture made me laugh - and I think explains why Haiku's can be hard.

Debt

Irresponsible

spending by plastic; crash is

inevitable.

Regression
iv>

Galaxy counters,

Spangles, Marathon, Opal

Fruits. All gone too soon.

I know, I know back to food again and I also know that both Marathon and Opal Fruits are still about but have just been renamed but they are not the same and they don't hold the same memories (if you know what I mean).

Dix

BR - The Man Who Disappeared by Clare Morrall

2011-01-27T10:33:00.003Z

This book was an impulse by from Waterstones on the buy 2 get one free offer but I really enjoyed it. It was well written and explored the storyline of a woman who is left with nothing when her husband just disappears after being implicated in a money laundering operation. It is interesting that he is always about - the author shows what is happening to him and what he is thinking but mainly the story focuses on the wife and her children.

I think she shows so well how children can be effected by their parents, how hard it is to avoid the press and the reality of going from well off to poor. I think she showed the anger, upset and just abject fear but I also think somehow in places it does quite work.

As the reader is always aware of the husband there is the feeling he will come back, and he does. There is always the feeling, even at her lowest point that she will get her MA and things will get a whole lot better, that there is an end to it. Whereas reality for some people is there would be no way back out of the hole he has created.

I generally liked the book, enjoyed and would definitely read others of her work. I would recommend it, if you are looking for something better than a holiday novel this is definitely worth a go.

Dix

21.20 to 21.50

2011-01-26T17:01:00.003Z

There is something about the time 9.20 to 9.50 pm that makes me space out. Don't ask me why but during those times I just don't seem to be able to function.

I always have a really low point around 3 pm but at least I can stay awake and keep going but in the evening I just seems to phase out. Whether I am on the phone or watching TV or even out I always struggle at this time.

I watch TV programs and tend to fall asleep and then wake up 10 minutes before the end and wonder what the hell is going on. If I am out I find myself sitting quietly and willing myself to stay engaged with other people but if I am on the phone it is worse.

Last night I was on the phone to JC (she has just got an amazing essay result which is just brilliant) I love talking to JC and we often don't keep in touch enough. We were chatting but I could feel myself really struggling to stay focused, to stay on the conversation. But why? I was really interested, really wanted to speak to her but it just couldn't.

And I hate it. People must think I am being really rude. That I am not interested in what they are saying but it couldn't be further from the truth it is just that I have developed this trait - this time when I can't function properly and I can't seem to get out of it. Guess I ought to try and really make an effort to keep myself going at that time - stand up and walk about, that kinda thing.

I am out tonight - darts - and I am going to monitor the time and make sure I stay focused at that time, even if I have to slap myself.

So just to say - to friends and anyone who speaks to me between 9.20 and 9.50 I am so sorry and slap me or call me names if I phase out on you. It is rude and it isn't ok. I wouldn't except it so neither should you.

Dix

More Haiku

2011-01-24T04:25:00.003Z

The first one is a re write (well I added a little cos I got my syllables wrong) - Thanks JC although I suspect there will be more.

Ice cream

Great glorious
mouthfuls of creamy luscious
Cold. Lick, lick, lick. Hmmm.....

Chocolate

Sensual oblong
cool, unsatisfying
object of desire.

Deprivation

It's so weird -
visualising bed; craving
sleep and dreams.

Bob's Philosophy

Bob said "Born to
be slapped and scream; die
screaming silently."

I don't know - are they better - maybe better meanings. Hope you enjoy and JC I don't mind if you check syllables and let me know.

dix

Attempts at Haiku

2011-01-23T11:24:00.005Z

Writing Haiku for me, is really just about trying to be creative - trying to get something happening with my writing, however small - much like blogging really - I am writing of a sorts and something may just come out of it.

I brought my friend JC a present for Christmas called Haikubes, little cubes of words and themes to inspire Haiku. My daughter brought me the same set so that we could play together over the long distance that divides us at the moment.

This week I sent her 20 random words chosen taken from the shaken up cubes and we both produced some work. But for me, not without issues. I thought it would be fairly easy to follow the 5,7,5 rule but sometimes syllables are quite hard to work out even though I repeat the words over and over and still couldn't be sure that I had got it right. I really enjoyed the process and am really glad to be creating something however poor.

At the moment I am trying to persuade JC to post hers as well, not only on her blog but on our creative blog Cherry Picker as well. We'll see but I will keep on trying. Anyway here is my attempts.

Smelly Dog

The anal glands
on my dog’s bottom squeezed
of smelly pus. Ouch!

Sleep Wars

Hmmm .., alternative
places swim right by me:

as sleep evades.

Giant Visions

Lots of glorious
glancing giants just because
I consume blue gin.

Ice cream

Great glorious
mouthfuls of creamy
Cold. Lick, lick, lick. Hmmm.....

I have changed the punctuation a bit, not sure it if is right but worth messing about with. I have enjoyed the process and will try more.

Might see if I can make my Bob words in Haiku - that could be interesting.

Dix

This year I have been mainly eating Jelly....

2011-01-22T20:57:00.003Z

It's true. Since the beginning of January I have been eating loads of jelly. And I am really enjoying it. It started with just a silly thing - I was tidying my kitchen cupboards and found this jelly all nearly out of date. Well I thought silly to throw it away - so I didn't.

I made up pints of orange, strawberry and blackcurrant jelly. I have been eating them on their own, or with ice cream or with cream or sometimes with both.

I like to make up my jelly with lemonade and that worked out well as I had some 'still fizzy but not for long' lemonade left over from Christmas. When you add it to the warm jelly it fizzes up and if you can get it to set quick enough then it keeps the fizzy taste.

When you eat it it kinda melts fizzy like into the mouth - which is really nice and feels kinda wonderful.

I am wondering why I am enjoying the jelly so much. Am I regressing to childhood, enjoying the child like food of jelly. But I have always eaten vodka jelly at adult parties so maybe what I really want is a bloody good party. I like the melting, lumpy, fruity taste in my mouth - no rude comments here please - the taste and texture.

When I was a child I used to steal the telly from the cupboard and pull of cubes to eat. Me and my brother used to do this often. Then we found out that eating jelly is good for bones and nail growth so we used to tell Mum that is was ok for us to eat the jelly raw (so to speak) as it would help us grow. Not sure it every helped my fingernails much as I have always bitten them (well as long as I can remember) but they have always grown back fairly quickly even though I just bite them again.

So I am going to leave now - try to find something worth watching on TV and eat blackcurrant jelly and ice cream.

See - this year I have been mainly eating jelly....

Dix

PS I love the image of the jelly brain - I think it is so cool - wouldn't that be a great jelly mould.

Over a 1000 pageviews

2011-01-20T19:37:00.002Z

Total Pageviews
1,031

I am really pleased that since Nov 2008 I have had over a thousand people view my blog. Now I know that some, or maybe most of these views may have been me but even so some will have been others and for that I thank them truly.

Reaching over a 1000 pageviews is for me like reaching 100 friends in Facebook. Not really important I know, but nice and strangely fulfilling (in a kinda doesn't really matter way).

I am going to really try to blog more often this year and keep going even after Jan/Feb when I normally begin to lose a bit of interest or struggle to find the time.

Look forward to 2000 pageviews.

Thanks to everyone and anyone reading my blog - thankyou.

Dix

BR - the Fry chronicles an autobiography - Stephen Fry

2011-01-19T11:34:00.004Z

I really enjoyed this book. My biggest fear was that I would read it and find out that I really didn't like Stephen Fry at all. I read the Paul O'Grady and hated him - his morals particularly put me off. But not so with Dear Stephen. He comes across as a lovely gently kind man and still very much top of the list in people I would like to meet. Strangely his Norfolk home is probably not so far from here and I often hope that I would be walking around a town and meet him. Highly unlikely but I have seen Rick Wakeman twice so I suppose anything is possible.

I realise that Mr Fry comes from a very different social class and background to me, the private school, the top rate University and just the way his life has panned out but somehow that upper crusty ness does not put me off him. I recognise his feelings about himself, confidence problems, I was surprised but pleased to read about his attitudes to sex (sometimes it feels so old fashioned not to want to sleep with everyone you meet) and his family.

There were parts of the book that I found, well a little boring, full of posh bit I guess, but I loved the way he only had nice things to say about people and how he showed real love and respect for his friends. I enjoy watching him on TV, QI is a really favourite (although I hated it at first), even watching the endless repeats. Mind you the fact that I fancy Alan Davies has something to do with it.

I don't think I will read this book again. But I did enjoy it and I am glad I read it. An enjoyable Christmas present. Must admit I will probably pass it on - part of my new years res to move on some more book and stop hoarding.

Tiredness

2011-01-17T03:25:00.002Z

It's 3.30am in the morning and I am really really tired. Why are you blogging then I hear you ask (well you would if anyone was actually reading this blog but hey, I am writing and at this time that is all that matters). I am blogging because I am at work and I need to stay awake. I am working a 10 hour night shift and I need to keep going. It gets to the stage (recently I have managed later in the night than this but this is my second night this week) when the wall hits and all you want to do is sleep - rest and sleep. And I can't do that. I have to keep going as I am the only member of staff on shift and keeping an eye on 8 people.

I am not sure I should be using the computer at all for this purpose. Somebody could be monitoring closely, but I hope not. And as it is not my own machine I am not able to add a picture which is a shame as I really like words and images on my page but not to be this time.

I am sitting here wondering why I am cleaning and caring all through the night when really I should be doing something more constructive. I should be doing something that allows me to sleep like normal people. Of course I know that in reality there are probably hundreds of people working through the night and many of them working alone like myself. But somehow that knowledge doesn't help when all you want to do is sleep or at least have a conversation with another human. I do for one reason and one reason only - I do it for the money. You get paid more money at night so I sit here thinking at least I have earned 85 quid for keeping awake and cleaning all night. Not great but better than it used to be.

Trouble is I am having one of those nights when I am 'whigging' myself out and keep thinking I hear noises and things in night. In reality there is nothing but when you are tired your senses start to play tricks on you. I still have 5 toilets/bathrooms to clean, my absolute worst part of the job but I normally leave it until I am the tiredest because it keeps me awake and doesn't take any thinking about.

I guess I better go and get on, have a coffee and keep myself moving. I have 2 and half hours before the sleep in person awakes and I can start getting people up.

Yipee toilets here I come! Wish me luck.

Be in my bonnet!

2011-01-16T14:20:00.004Z

I have really got a bee in my bonnet today.

See the thing is I hate feeling like I have been manipulated. If I have said no, then normally it is for a reason - not just because 'I said so'. Over the last few months we have had lots of conversations with Boy about Tennis. He really wants to play tennis but as we explained it is very expensive and not something we could put lots of money into without knowing how it is going to 'pan out'. We have already paid for a football season that he got asked to leave and he does have this habit of starting things and then coming up with lots of reasons why he can't keep going at them. I know maybe it sounds mean but we do have to be very sensible with money and anyway he can't necessarily have everything he wants.

So what happens, he talks to his Independent Visitor, a nice lady about his birthday and says that he has always wanted to play tennis but we wont let him because of the money. So she came back to us and said why doesn't he pay for it out of his birthday money (he doesn't want anything in particular and so it make sense). Well it makes sense to me but he does not want that at all. He thinks we should just pay, pay, pay and never mind how much.

So I am thinking this about game playing to get his own way and it has actually back fired on him big time. And that has made me angry. So guess what, he is having tennis lessons for his birthday and because he has been such a little brat about it I am sooooo sticking to my guns. He has really pissed me off with the attitude. I know all children think they are hard done by and everyone else has stuff they don't but he is making a profession out of it.

I feel like a really stubborn donkey but hey it don't feel so bad.

Landlord!

2011-01-13T08:33:00.002Z

We have let the Cabin - at last. It is only for 6 weeks but it will be a good introduction to see how we get on being Landlords. To see how we cope with having someone live at the bottom of the garden.

The lady moving in seems nice, she has two children about the same age as Boy so he may end up having someone to play with for a couple of weeks. They don't go to his school but live locally.

The money will help for a while.

I am kinda excited and a little scared at the same time. I hope it works out or it could be a pretty grotty time - but going along with my positive thinking. It will work and it will help us financially.

Dix

Sleep

2011-01-08T12:01:00.002Z

Thursday night I did my first night shift for a while. I have done some research (on line of course) about how to manage staying awake all night better. Firstly I should try and get some sleep before I go to work - I tried this but I really wanted to sleep around 3 pm but had to pick Boy up from school then so tried going to bed around 5pm and just couldn't sleep.

Secondly it said as long as you replace REM sleep which for most people is around 3 hours a night then in one day you can be totally back to normal. So as I had an appointment on Friday I managed to get about 3 hours sleep during the day Friday and then went to bed last night just after 10pm and slept until 9.30 this morning. And I must admit it seemed to have worked. I don't really feel much different (bearing in mind I often feel tired all the time anyway).

I quite enjoyed doing the night - there is no one to bother me, no one to piss me off and I got through the work well. Yes it is tiring and lots and lots of bloody cleaning especially 5 toilets - and you do often miss the next day in bed but hey, it is working at the mo so as far as I am concerned it is a solution.

In the middle of the night I did think to myself why am I just a glorified cleaner with a good degree and lots of experience. But then I thought my choices and things can always get better.

And there is a bit of good news, there is a job that I can apply for online (and in the paper unfortunately but at least I can try and be better than the competition). I am already thinking about how to write my supporting statement (as I feel like this is where it can be lost or won) and the hours of this job although not a lot would help us no end. If I keep thinking positively than things can only get better - right?

Dix

The Big Conversation

2011-01-06T17:03:00.004Z

Last night I went to meeting about the Big Conversation. The Big Con should it be called. It was a meeting set up to give Foster Carers a voice in the cuts proposed for Children's Services. In other words asking us to think about who we want to cut so that the council and the government can say - look the people wanted these cuts - it was there decision.

As I sat in the meeting all I could think about was the film Brassed Off - this poor woman was optimistically trying to sell us this deal when I think we all knew that the decision had already been made, and that probably ultimately she was as likely to be a victim as us.

The suggestion is that all Foster Carer's will no longer come under the Council but will all be shipped out to Agency (I can't see how this is going to be cheaper but it sure will make some one huge amounts of money). Nobody could answer where Kinship Foster Carers stand in this deal, nobody could answer the question about cuts in Social Workers, Special Guardians, Youth schemes and so on. In fact there was a lot of no information that we were supposed to be discussing.

I left being worried, I left feeling that the most vulnerable people are going to be so badly affected by these cuts, that normal everyday people will lose their jobs and nobody will see it is wrong until we get another Baby P, or someone notices how many children in care end up in prison, or on the streets or worse.

On a personal basis not sure how I am going to manage with out my Foster Care Allowance - it has allowed me to take time out to be Boys parent, to give him time to settle and adjust to family life and if I am truly honest it has given me time to get used to him and being a parent again.

If the money is cut or taken away - will he stay - absolutely bloody yes, will it be hard, absolutely bloody yes. We will both have much less time for him , less money to allow him to do things and much less support from professionals who have supported us through this first year.

We should have more answers in February - or will we just have more flannel, more questions and more anger. Is this really what people voted for? Do we really have to take all the flack at the bottom when bankers and MP's and the very rich get off Scot free?

Glad I never voted for the wankers - don't get me wrong all politicians are the same. What is it 'Power corrupts -well we have certainly seen that with the Lib Dems!

And don't even get me started on the price of diesel!!!

Dix

The Case of Matching Underwear

2011-01-05T11:25:00.004Z

Firstly I start this blog with a massive apology. JC I fully and completely apologise. I was wrong (as I often am ) and you should take absolutely no bloody notice of me in the future or ever again!!! Well certainly when it comes to clothing advice anyway.

When JC and I first became friends she used to say that she only wore matching underwear (sorry for putting too much info out there JC but need to for this blog!) and I thought it was well, very anal. What did it matter what was under you clothes as long as they were clean and comfortable. But I was wrong.

Recently I have purchased a couple of sets of matching underwear - nothing expensive and from Adsa but pretty and feminine. And there is the rub - wearing matching underwear makes you feel pretty and feminine. It makes me have that little smile inside when I think about it. I don't even mind too much at looking myself in the mirror in them. I think about my pretty underwear and I think about sex (in a good healthy way - I hope) and I think I am pretty, I am a women. This then leads to other positive thoughts. I do have a voice, I can have my dreams, I can get a job that I want. I have value. All from £9 worth of underwear you ask. But yes, it works for me.

As I walked the dog on the beach this morning, in my matching underwear (and believe me my dog walking coat, Deputy Daug hat and big black boots are not sexy at all - just warm) I thought about my mum who always used to tell us to wear clean underwear in case we had an accident. And it was a nice memory and made me smile. And then I smiled as I thought about my pink flowered bra and matching pants (even though I wanted to pull them out of my bum - I managed to ignore the impulse -well you do have to have some class even on the beach and anyway someone is always watching when you think you are alone).

So what have I discovered, that a simple thing like matching underwear can make me feel better, better about myself and then better in the world.

Matching underwear can help me be 'fortified by optimism'.

What I want to learn in 2011 is that the little things can make life alright.

The little things can make life good.

The little things can make life worth living.

Life has its ups and downs (2010 has felt like lots of downs and not enough ups) but I have learnt in January 2011 that wearing matching underwear can make me feel good. That wearing matching underwear can make life feel good. One little lesson for the month to help the world seem easier. Gotta help - hasn't it??

Dix

ps obviously I look nothing like the picture on my blog - it is just an illustration (and anyway I have never worn a thong although I am told they are comfy - think I will give them a miss for now, perhaps an experience for later in the year??)

Examples of Haiku

2011-01-04T19:04:00.002Z

Kojo

Night, and the moon!
My neighbor, playing on his flute -
out of tune!

Chris Spruck

Faceless, just numbered.
Lone pixel in the bitmap-
I, anonymous.

The first more traditional, the second modern.
I am starting to understand.

Dix