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Monday, 23 March 2015

Should I now own up?

That I have also written 4 children's stories and that my eldest, Nell is furious that she hasn't been allowed to read them? Worse.. she is indignant that she hasn't been asked to illustrate them. Oops.

I hear you. I will print them off and you can draw me some pictures because you are the artist in the family. Oh, the name? You want to know the name of the books?

The Tales of Alfie and Olive.

What are they about?

Pixies, obviously. They are stories of pixies that go on adventures.

I will let you draw for me. Are they good?

You tell me Darling. You are the reason I wrote them. For a child just like you.

Of course Mary can read them too and yes, she can draw a flower.

Yikes, my children are my biggest critics. This might hurt.. Might just fob them off until tomorrow..

Saturday, 21 March 2015

Can I just say?..

Something that I have tried to do for years, wanted to achieve, felt a passion to explain and a need to excuse.. I have just written the final line of my book. I have actually done it. I can now say, with confidence, that I have written a book. Although it isn't a book yet but it is a book to me. It is a story with a start, a middle and an end. This is the end. As I wrote the final lines I had tears running down my face. I had no idea how significant it would feel or in fact, that it was going to be the ending until I had written it. So I shut the laptop, smiled and still with tears streaming down my cheeks, I walked to the beach and took this photo.

Job done. Amen. And a massive Thank you to the ones that never doubted me. You know who you are. More importantly, so do I. X

p.s (there often is) "GET IN".

Tuesday, 17 March 2015

Stuck record.

We expect a great deal from each other don't we? Responses to messages instantly forgetting that others have a life to get on and live, answering of phones if they ring simply to reassure that the responses we hear are the ones we expect, timings kept punctually without any questioning, jobs completed fully and properly, lists ticked off, enthusiasm at full capacity even when we might be lagging, depleted, tired.

Oh so tired. I've always been tired. I was diagnosed with ME in my late teens. Boy, I was tired then. Did I really have it? I'm not sure. I slept for hours each day. I had no energy. I was wiped out. I feel like that now except I can't sleep because I have responsibilities. Real ones. Daily ones. Not just once a fortnight or the occasional evening ones. I am completely in charge of three lives. I do not want to be in charge of anyone else. So should I be surprised when I am expected to jump up, smile on demand, gasp, sigh, sob and clap like a puppet on a string or even a monkey on your shoulder. Why can't I sleep? A number of reasons I guess. I have 2 children so a nap is out of the question. DO NOT even suggest it. I have a few worries, as adults do (particularly us women who tend to mull things over at night it seems) especially post 40, post children and post taking on any real grown up stuff and I cannot begin to rest lying next to a man who is WIDE AWAKE but trying his hardest to lie dead still so as not to disturb me. A fly even a flea disturb me. I can sense it. Then there's the hot hand that is rested on your backside. Why would that be relaxing mid nocturnal stupor? I'm half in sleep but irritatingly half out due to the "I cannot move a muscle in case I wake you" thing going on besides me and there it is.. The hand. WHY?? And I won't mention any other obvious bodily heated parts but just because you're awake doesn't mean you can chance it. Especially not on a sunday night.

I guess I'm being mean. I should sit up, mop his brow, stroke his head and whisper reassurances into his  ears and put my need for sleep to one side. I should tell him how much I love him and that all his worries will one day seem a silly nonsense and so far away and remind him that life is okay and we are lucky to have found each other. So I'm setting the record straight, once and for all, making it clear and hopefully there will be no doubt from now on. We all need sleep to recover, stay well, mend, feel happy and be healthy. As much as I love, treasure, appreciate and respect the lump that shares my bed there is only one thing he hasn't understood.

LET ME GO TO FUCKING SLEEP Darling. It's not all about you. Next time you suggest a bloody herbal sleeping pill, you might do well to pop a couple in your own face before your head hits the pillow.

That'll be Goodnight from me then?

Thursday, 12 March 2015

Bleuch, again.

If it's not one, it's the other but rarely is it both upsides, as a duet of retching and clenching of tummy muscles as they puke into the loo or the basin together. Sickness and squits with high fever and tears of fatigue from all three of us. Fatigue only for me. I am not sick. Praise God for small mercies. Mary has recovered enough to poke some garlic sausage in her mouth and do some colouring. Nell is as white as a sheet randomly and periodically saying in a small voice 'oh' as she walks carefully back up the stairs to the loo and then cautiously trundles back down again. Every hour it seems.

Oh indeed. I am beyond tired. I am delirious with lack of sleep so much so that a bag of midget gems hasn't made a jot of difference to the sugar levels. Nada. Not even an urge to clean except, of course, I have cleaned and scrubbed non stop it seems for the last 24 hours straight.

"What can I do to help?"

Often I am tempted to reply with a list of chores that are regular for me before my day job demands me to go that extra mile but I don't. I smile and I thank shaking my head with a blank list. There is little point because I have everything I need. I need some logs chopping into kindling wood but I can do that. I need a hug and I want a kiss but The Boyfriend can do that once he's finished work.

"I'll take a half day" he declared, "to come and help you so that you can work" but I am too tired to scrub more floors, pick up dirty tissues and flush loos with a brush and bleach in my hand especially if none of it belongs to us. I'll go without. Happily. I wonder when I might be able to simply flop down in a heap and resign myself to giving up. Once he's finished work it seems.

More rose tea. More tea Rose. Yes Please, I'd love one. 'Oh' I hear myself reply to no one at all. I'll make my own then. Thank you very much.


Wednesday, 11 March 2015


Mary has a sick bug. I thought it was simply a bad cough with a typical Mary type reaction to a chest full of flem (excuse me for being graphic but she's a puker, always has been) Alas, this is a chest full of flem and a sick bug on top, which I have to say has tested my maternal skills to the extreme. I wonder can you go on Mastermind with a topic of 'Ways to clean sick from carpet, curtains and bed linen'? Hmm, I thought as much. So here I am the mother of 2, just me, clearing up sick and snot reassuring my youngest that she WILL be okay soon at the same time as trying to book myself onto a Speed awareness course (£95 inclusive the £3.50 insurance in case I have to swap dates) because I was caught doing 36 in a 30 and today try and juggle my cleaning jobs around because I am now down by £45 this week. Bollocks to it. What's £45? It's the cost of a school trip and a terms swimming lessons that's what it is.

I am meant to be at La Traviata watching a live performance through the cheap seats in a cinema in Witney. I was so excited. It's no ones fault but to sit and watch and hear.. I am so disappointed. the last time I saw it, my step father was in hospital in London dying of Cancer. I really, really wanted to go. I wanted to sit and remember, pretend and hope..

I have a dog sitting on top of the back of a sofa as though she is a cat. I have a pedigree dog that looks like a cat sitting on the mat in the hallway. I have a boyfriend who is someone else's husband, annoyingly although he isn't anymore and I have 2 children who rock, even if they are sick (one has just poured me a beer without even asking me if I wanted one) and the other is in front of the fire waiting patiently for Eastenders (inappropriate but at least it's not about Lucy's killer) I have 2 cats of which one thinks she is a dog and walks to school with us. I have a few chickens who only lay eggs if they see me and I wonder every single day if there is a reason that when I run, walk or stand still whether it is just me or does everyone feel like Life is a tiny bit bonkers? My life is back to front and upside down. It is inside out and internet dating, random marriage, suppressed rebound and second child later.. do I question my choices? Always.

Would I change them? Never.

Monday, 9 March 2015

Fill your boots.

So says the Dalai Lama..

The interesting thing about greed is that although the underlying motive is to seek satisfaction, even after obtaining what you want, you’re still not satisfied. It’s this endless, nagging desire for more that leads to trouble. On the other hand, if you’re truly contented, it doesn't matter whether you get what you want or not. Either way, you remain content.

Why are we all so greedy? Why do we all need so much? Want more? Push for the best, the highest, the fastest, the loudest? Surely it is so much better to want little, expect nothing and feel that you've gained everything?

I know from personal experience that nothing, and I mean nothing, is as important as accepting that this will do. Love is free, Health is a gift and Happiness is a privilege. Not one should be taken for granted but accepted with gratitude. Let go of bad feeling, release the anger and resentment and smile from the inside that Today is good enough. Today we have the chance to smile, accept and let go.

With a deep breath I am so grateful that I am nothing like I used to be and with a smile I look back and remember the old version with kindness and compassion. There is no need to worry quite so much. It will all come right. I am not greedy. Why would I be?

Sunday, 8 March 2015

The Real Deal.

So we met, I listened, he talked and I answered. I knew instantly. On sight. Sometimes in Life things are difficult to see and often harder to hear but it's the silence that speaks volumes.