Hot

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

About bonfires

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

End of Dream Time

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!!!

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

A visit to the dentist

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

21.20 to 21.50

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

Upset

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

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

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

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

Monday 8th

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

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

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

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


Hmmmm....

A most peculiar dream

I had this dream a couple of nights ago and just can't make 'head nor tails' of it. Any ideas greatly appreciated?

I called it Ear Wax

I had this dream the other night.

It was strange.

I kept rubbing my ears because they felt odd. My hearing was muffled, like listening through water.

And as time went on (and in a dream time is always unreal and often controlled by the dreamer, often controlled by me) my world was becoming quieter and more distant and my ears were itching. So I began poking around in them and bringing out little balls of green grey ear wax. Each little piece rubbed between my fingers into squishy balls that left my ears feeling clearer but still muffled and slightly sore.

Eventually I just wanted to free my ears from their congestion and to hear fully again.

So I lay down on the settee on my side with my left ear exposed and really went for it. I raised my index finger on my left hand and dived into my ear. It went into my ear, initially exploring the outer cavity, peeling away the little wax balls but then delving deeper, my finger pushing through the flesh of my ear canal. The flesh began to separate and my finger squashed through into the inner ear. It felt like pushing through soft meat or warm plasticine or warm wax.

My finger went deeper and deeper until it nearly reached up to my knuckle. And just when I thought I couldn’t reach any further I felt something semi-solid, something slightly firmer just touching the end. I tried to press a little harder and just get a grip on what I could feel. Just delving a tad deeper to get a hold.

And suddenly I felt the object stick to my fingertip. I began to slowly extract my finger, keeping it as still as possible, hoping that the object would stay clinging to my fingertip and come out of my ear.

And it did.

Slowly and carefully it slid out of my ear canal and finally popped into my outer ear, filling it so much that momentarily it hurt, stretching my outer ear cone to extremes.

As the blockage was picked out of my ear the sound became suddenly loud and I was relieved to have removed the muffling.

I picked out the object and immediately felt the shape of it. It was square and about 3 mm thick, square or rather oblong – a strange rubbery rectangle. I took it out of my ear and placed it on the palm of my hand. It was bout 50mm long and 35mm wide.

It was strange. The top side felt slightly un-straight, definitely not parallel with the bottom being lower on the left side and slightly higher on the right.

But the oddest ting of all was the fact that it was a deep midnight blue. There was nothing pastel or uneven about the colour, it was strong, intense, complete. A slightly off kilt, midnight blue rectangle that has come out of my ear. It shone like wax or soap or even waxy soap and still felt warm but was cooling rapidly in my palm.

I remember that I wasn’t surprised or worried, just amazed and interested.

Why did I not question a midnight blue waxy block in my ear?

And what is the significance if there is any, or if you believe in dream interpretation of a dream like this?

Quotes

"I hold that a writer who does not passionately believe in the perfectibility of man has no dedication nor any membership in literature" John Steinbeck

And funny ones (I love these useless snippets of information!)

"The first toilet in a block of public toilets is the least likely to be used and hence is the cleanest." Heard on the radio - could this be true I hope so as I now always use the first cubicle".

"All polar bears are left handed." - Come next time you watch a wildlife show I know that like me you will have to check which hand they use to grab that fish!

DiH

Trollphin

Today I saw a Trollphine

It moved blue and white

On land and on sea

Sometimes alert

Others comatose

It sits on its head

And stares into space

Eyes brightly bobbing.

By Dih

A Promise

Every day I think about things I want to put on my blog, ideas, opinions, pieces of writing, photos etc. And every day I don't achieve this. My promise is to try and blog at least twice a week. It means that at least I am writing something at least twice a week.

A couple of weeks ago I attended the MA end of year show at Uni. Some of the work was very good, in fact absolutely amazing. A video piece on memory and reality just blew me away. I just had to watch it and watch it and was lucky enough to see the artist to speak to him. I picked up a novel written as part of the Writing the Visual and managed to read the first 3 chapters but ran out of time. I so wanted to read the whole book - it was good - very good. Some of the work was not so good (or I had real trouble engaging with it - or even understanding it). The trouble is now I really want to do my MA. Next September it would be lovely to be studying again, even if only part time, to be able to put together both written and visual work would be so good. But it is only a dream. My current financial situation will not be sorted in a year, it may not be sorted in ten years!!

This year has been pretty awful for me - my illness, my mental state has been difficult, teetering on the edge of 'that kind of madness'. I know I am lucky that my friends and family have supported me and not allowed me to dive into the abyss but it still sometimes seems very welcoming. It still sometimes seems the answer. I miss Uni so much. I miss the creativity, I miss the conversation, I miss being an aged art student. It felt the most like 'being me' that I have felt since being a child. I wish I had worried less about fitting it and just lived the dream to its fullest extent. But hey, that is me always worrying I am not good enough, always seeing how good others are and missing my own potential.

I have been off line for a while, my hard drive failed. Now it could have just been one of those things and I guess that is what I thought it was and then something really strange occurred to me. The last photographs I uploaded were from the disused mental hospital in Norwich. I published a couple in my last blog. But some were very haunting, they appeared to hold the pain of past patients and were almost painful to look at. Did these photos make my hard drive fail?

A friend managed to save most of my data - he managed to rescue many of the photos but guess what most of the ones from the hospital have gone - only 3 remain - and they were the two I published and one showing my car. Even typing this is making me feel a bit 'creepy up the spine'. Ah well - I will never know and unfortunately I will never get to look at the photos properly.

I really should be in bed as I am very tired - I just want to sleep but didn't want to go to bed without blogging something. I will end with some of my 'words'. A piece I started a while ago and carry around in my latest handbag notebook. I think it is a work in progress.

Contradiction

am i a contradiction?
light and dark
bacon and cream
like chocolate
glass half empty
glass half full
am I
that kinda girl?

do they love me?
do they hate me?
normal.
am i
normal?

i wake to a heavy pain
that turns to feathered happiness
am i
that kinda girl?

do they hate me?
do they love me?
normal
am i
normal?


running, walking
smiling, frowning
unable, static, still
and eating
eating
bread and brown sauce,
cookies and ice
is that the kinda
girl I am?

do I love me?
do I hate me?
normal
am I
normal?

am I
a
contradiction
or
normal?

By DiH

It's wednesday,Poetry, Spike Miligan,

It's wednesday and I always hate wednesday. They are right smack in the middle of week, too far away from the weekend. Although why the weekend bothers me as I am working this weekend I don't know. But it is something about wednesdays - I always feel tired on a wednesday and want the day to be over. But sometimes I have really good wednesdays. I wonder what sort of wednesday I am going to have today?

Not much to say today so thought I would post another Spike Milligan poem.

Ulster, Derry 1972

When the only colour is black-
the only sound
the broken bell
Then talk to me about why.

By Spike Milligan

and another small untitled peice

GOD MADE NIGHT
BUT
MAN MADE DARKNESS

By Spike Milligan

I assume the first one was about the war in Northern Ireland and the second is just about man. Both seems so appropriate to the state this world is in 30+ years later. Somethings just never change.

The Sniper's Journal

I watched a program about Afganistan on TV this week.
It showed families morning their children and trying to make sense of it.
Trying to justify their deaths.
It showed a young man with death in his eyes telling us he is a sniper, telling us he has killed 19.
19 dead and written in his notebook because snipers keep count.
19 dead and written in his notebook because snipers keep a death journal.
And his father, who took him to a firing range to learn how to use his pistol before he went on service.
So he could teach his son to defend himself at close range.
His father was proud.
His father is a sniper too.
It's their family trade.
And it saved his son's life.
It saved his life the day he pulled his burning best friend from their bombed vehicle.
Another one to write in his sniper journal.
His sniper journal full of 19 dead, no names, no descriptions, just how he killled them and where. 19 dead in the snipers journal.

By Me

My shoe laces are frayed

The shoe laces on my Puma trainers are frayed
Not all four of them - only two
The left on the left
and the right on the right.
They have become thick and unruly
with the lengthening fraying.

I think I have a spare set of shoe laces
White trainer ones that would fit nicely
But where did I leave them?
In the third drawer down in the kitchen
(now here's another story)
With two sets of washing machine stabiliser bolts
Name Indesit and Hoover
And the charger for my toothbrush
And three different colour patches for paddling pools
That have been long dispatched to the tip
After spending the winter filling will scummy rain
And breeding grounds for mozzies
And a yellow tin of petrol to refill my father's silver plated lighter.

Yet the fraying keeps expanding
And the shoes laces won't feed back through the loops
Leaving ends that splatter causing trip hazards
Which brush slap marks on the pavement when it rains
And suck up the water like heavy rope.

My white Puma trainers are dirty and green
from walking the dog on recently cut grass
and squelching through soggy verges
They smell of cat pee and cheese
Although I just washed them last week.