Right we are back to normal; whatever that means. In this house it means that my son has finished his two week break and is, currently, back at his training group and my partner has, after having a mid summer meltdown, back at work; so I can get back to some sort of routine. Saying that, I'm not a lover of routine which, when you live with two ASDers, is a bit difficult. I'm much more of a wake up and see what happens kind of person so having the house to myself for three days a week is rather lovely.
So, today, I attacked the 'so called dining room'. It's a 'so called dining room' as we never actually eat in there apart from when we have guests. It's actually the 'dump everything off on the table as you walk through the house room' although it does, occasionally, turn into the 'sewing room' or the 'model making room' and if there is no room on the table it's the 'dump everything wherever you can find a space room' including the floor, chairs, trolley, printer, etc; any surfaces you can find really. Now I haven't attacked the dining room since.....I can't remember to be honest so I knew it was going to be a bit of a mess. The table was buried under god knows what, there were a stack of cardboard boxes that I was keeping 'just in case' and I wasn't entirely sure if any of them actually had anything in them still and the printer and it's little cabinet it sits on was buried under a pile of paper. Hmmm, cup of tea required before we start me thinks.
Anyway, three quarters of an hour later and I now have a dining room with a clear table! Woo Hoo!!! The boxes didn't have anything in them apart from more boxes, bits of cardboard, some bubble wrap, old newspaper and an interesting looking carrier bag which turned out to be totally uninteresting as it was empty. Hrumph! I did find the radiator key (??) on the table along with more random bits of paper, the mechanics of a light/magnifier for making models with, some long red candles, a wind up torch, a bag of Halloween masks (??? again as I know I've tided since then more than once), various tablecloths and a bunch of table mats and coasters, oh and several bits of broken stationery like pens, etc. Also found my son's training certificates!!!! Glad they didn't get thrown out by mistake.
I didn't find many dust bunnies; they were more like dust wooly mammoths. There was a lovely silky cobweb that ran the whole length of the alcove that the printer sits in and the window sill and trolley that sits in front of it looked more like the housefly graveyard than something you can wheel your tea things around on. All in all, pretty yucky!! But it is now done; yay!
How long it will stay that way I do not know and I'm not taking any bets on how long the table will stay clear although I don't think it will be long. Tomorrow I'm hoping to attack the front room although that is in a much less awful state; mainly dust to be honest.
I know you are probably thinking that if I did it more regularly it wouldn't end up such a state, but, guess what, I tried that and I just ended up doing it more and more often. The dust didn't get less, the 'stuff' didn't stop being dumped and the cobwebs still kept coming. I hate housework, as you probably have already guessed, and for me to do it one day only for it to look like I haven't done anything the next is rather soul destroying for me so I leave it and then attack!! It doesn't take that long before I've had enough of it and end up doing it and I wouldn't say that my house is dirty, just dusty and untidy. I don't leave food lying about and any spills are cleaned away, bins are emptied regularly and those things that have a place are put back in their place, usually! I'm just not a houseproud, dust, polish and hoover kind of girl and if you don't like it, you don't have to come in.
Quentin Crisp once wrote “There is no need to do any housework at all. After the first four years the dirt doesn't get any worse.” and I have a little book that quotes "since housework is always there waiting for me, I might as well go ahead and do what I want."
These two quotes are my mantras when it comes to housework, especially the latter one as I'm not sure I'd have the capability of waiting four years for the dust to stop mounting up in the former. I do housework when the mood takes me and then it's blitzed; the rest of the time I go and do far less boring things and so should you.
Cya
xx
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Tuesday, 30 August 2016
Monday, 13 April 2015
TALKING OF THIS MORNING!!!
http://www.gravesendreporter.co.uk/news/exclusive_compulsory_abortion_for_down_s_syndrome_foetuses_says_ukip_kent_candidate_1_1745952
This is disgraceful!!! Where will it end?
On the one hand I can see that he's using the 'drain on the NHS'/'burden on the state' card and there will be a lot of people who agree with it, BUT....
Do we then:
Refuse NHS treatment for alcohol/drug abuse or treatment for injuries associated with said alcohol/drug abuse.
Refuse NHS treatment for people who have 'stupidly' inserted objects where they shouldn't have,
Refuse NHS treatment for people who've had an accident when they've been a bit clumsy; do you classify an old person who has fallen down the stairs as accidental or their own fault as they should know that they aren't good at going up or down stairs at their age. Who decides this?
Euthanise all long term ill patients.
Do we then:
Sterilise all mentally ill patients,
Sterilise the long term unemployed; after all any children that they have whilst receiving benefit is a 'burden on the state' as 'we', the public are paying their extra benefits.
Abort all children that have any disability that can be shown up.
Euthanise all infants that are born disabled.
Do we bring back the death penalty for major offenses?
Do we sterilise all repeat offenders?
Do we euthanise all repeat offenders?
What the hell, why don't we just stick all the unemployed, all the immigrants, all the criminals and all the disabled up against a wall and shoot the lot of them. There! Drains sorted. Burdens sorted.
I know that this seems excessive. I know that it seems extreme. And, I might add, I don't agree with it. But, remember, it starts with something small, it starts with something that was never acceptable before to be acceptable now and it will get worse. It will slowly seep through the cracks and before you know it we're in a Hitler State, where only those 'humans' that those in power deem to be 'correct' will exist and everyone else is DEAD!
Cya (again)....or maybe you won't; depends on who gets in!
This is disgraceful!!! Where will it end?
On the one hand I can see that he's using the 'drain on the NHS'/'burden on the state' card and there will be a lot of people who agree with it, BUT....
Do we then:
Refuse NHS treatment for alcohol/drug abuse or treatment for injuries associated with said alcohol/drug abuse.
Refuse NHS treatment for people who have 'stupidly' inserted objects where they shouldn't have,
Refuse NHS treatment for people who've had an accident when they've been a bit clumsy; do you classify an old person who has fallen down the stairs as accidental or their own fault as they should know that they aren't good at going up or down stairs at their age. Who decides this?
Euthanise all long term ill patients.
Do we then:
Sterilise all mentally ill patients,
Sterilise the long term unemployed; after all any children that they have whilst receiving benefit is a 'burden on the state' as 'we', the public are paying their extra benefits.
Abort all children that have any disability that can be shown up.
Euthanise all infants that are born disabled.
Do we bring back the death penalty for major offenses?
Do we sterilise all repeat offenders?
Do we euthanise all repeat offenders?
What the hell, why don't we just stick all the unemployed, all the immigrants, all the criminals and all the disabled up against a wall and shoot the lot of them. There! Drains sorted. Burdens sorted.
I know that this seems excessive. I know that it seems extreme. And, I might add, I don't agree with it. But, remember, it starts with something small, it starts with something that was never acceptable before to be acceptable now and it will get worse. It will slowly seep through the cracks and before you know it we're in a Hitler State, where only those 'humans' that those in power deem to be 'correct' will exist and everyone else is DEAD!
Cya (again)....or maybe you won't; depends on who gets in!
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
MID LIFE CRISIS (AGAIN) OR REMINISCING?
I’m officially going to say that I’m in mid life crisis – I think!
Why I hear you ask?
Well, I’ve started to get excited every time I get an email from Play.com or Amazon announcing sales!
Why I hear you ask again and what does that have to do with mid life crisis?
Give me chance folks; I’m getting there. I get excited because normally the sales include old stuff! Stuff that I remember! Stuff that brings back memories! And, as I left my complete record collection behind when leaving an ex boyfriend years ago….
Why?
….Because I had a limited time to leave and had to make a decision between my movie collection and my music collection! I chose my movies! Can I continue now??? Or are you asking why I left the boyfriend? That doesn’t really matter at the moment, so I’m going to continue on the thread I’m on…
I’m now without those wonderful tunes that whisk you back to moments in your life that you treasure; those memories, whether sad or happy, that remind you that you were once young! Those tunes that as soon as you hear them you can bring to mind in perfect clarity any event, place or person you wish! And I’m starting to do that often!! Too often!!
You see, I don’t drive, so I can’t go out and buy a flashy car (see a previous entry on this blog). I don’t have the money anyway even if I could drive. But I can splurge £2.99 on a CD or a movie (DVD having taken over from video since I made my rash but necessary decision all those years ago and I’m now trying to regain BOTH music and movies – hey ho). In fact, I recently splurged nearly £30 on CDs and DVDs, but at least it was quids not thousands.
I don’t usually listen, as some of you do, to continuous music. I’m not someone who has to have the radio on or the TV or a CD on as soon as I wake. I like a bit of peace and quiet and, having an Asperger son with me 24/7, quiet is normally a very rare thing anyway. But recently I’ve fancied a bit of a tune and I keep remembering songs I used to have and becoming incredibly upset if I don’t have it to hand.
Why am I getting so upset?
Actually, I’m not really sure, but I am.
I’m assuming that it’s because I’ve been feeling older recently. It came as a bit of a shock the other week when I realised that I was nearer to 50 than to 40. Reaching 40 was fine; actually I quite enjoyed it. It meant that I could finally not give a damn about what people thought of me (not that I really did anyway) and I didn’t have to pretend anymore (that, I did do, sorry), but 50! 50 sounds so old! 50 is definitely on the slidey slope down! I mean it doesn’t sound ancient, I know 50 year olds that don’t look or act it, but it’s definitely the fast track to 60 and then 70 and then, well then what? Both my parents died in their 70s so it’s not irrational to think that I will probably do the same, so, based on that, 50 is definitely the ‘not long left’ age!
Also having broken my leg last year and having complications ever since (nothing major, but enough to cause inconvenience and pain and the inability to run or even walk fast at the moment) I’ve started to look back to those days when I was young, able, fit and carefree and I want to listen to stuff that reminds me of ‘the good old days’!
To add to both those reasons above, I have a 22 year old daughter. That’s the age when my life was a ball (ages 20 – 25 being the best). I was out all the time; had a huge group of mates; experienced lots of things, most of which I can’t talk about on here; had highs; lows and generally enjoyed life (actually I enjoyed life between 17-28 pretty much continuously, but 20-25 was definitely the best. So hearing her talking about what she’s up to; seeing her spending her money on clothes, undies, etc brings back all those memories. I don’t begrudge her any of it, I’m the one that nagged her to do it earlier, but I have to admit it does make me reminisce a lot!
So am I just reminiscing or am I in crisis?
It’s a difficult question to answer! You see, apart from the above and being pretty happy with the way things are in my life (I haven’t got the energy for anything else at the moment, but I am one of those people who always thinks the grass is greener even when I know it isn’t), I’ve started to get thoughts about what it would be like to be on my own again. Being completely independent with no dependents if you follow me. Would I do ok as a single woman again. Would I be able to find work; have a decent social life; dare I say it – get another lover?
And this is when I start to wonder if it’s crisis. Does the reminiscing cause me to wonder or is it the wondering that causes the reminiscing? If I could remember which one came first it might help, but that’s like trying to work out which came first with the chicken or the egg, it’s impossible and to try would probably make my head explode!
So, due to the age thing, I’m going to say it’s mid life crisis! But feel free to argue!
xxx
Why I hear you ask?
Well, I’ve started to get excited every time I get an email from Play.com or Amazon announcing sales!
Why I hear you ask again and what does that have to do with mid life crisis?
Give me chance folks; I’m getting there. I get excited because normally the sales include old stuff! Stuff that I remember! Stuff that brings back memories! And, as I left my complete record collection behind when leaving an ex boyfriend years ago….
Why?
….Because I had a limited time to leave and had to make a decision between my movie collection and my music collection! I chose my movies! Can I continue now??? Or are you asking why I left the boyfriend? That doesn’t really matter at the moment, so I’m going to continue on the thread I’m on…
I’m now without those wonderful tunes that whisk you back to moments in your life that you treasure; those memories, whether sad or happy, that remind you that you were once young! Those tunes that as soon as you hear them you can bring to mind in perfect clarity any event, place or person you wish! And I’m starting to do that often!! Too often!!
You see, I don’t drive, so I can’t go out and buy a flashy car (see a previous entry on this blog). I don’t have the money anyway even if I could drive. But I can splurge £2.99 on a CD or a movie (DVD having taken over from video since I made my rash but necessary decision all those years ago and I’m now trying to regain BOTH music and movies – hey ho). In fact, I recently splurged nearly £30 on CDs and DVDs, but at least it was quids not thousands.
I don’t usually listen, as some of you do, to continuous music. I’m not someone who has to have the radio on or the TV or a CD on as soon as I wake. I like a bit of peace and quiet and, having an Asperger son with me 24/7, quiet is normally a very rare thing anyway. But recently I’ve fancied a bit of a tune and I keep remembering songs I used to have and becoming incredibly upset if I don’t have it to hand.
Why am I getting so upset?
Actually, I’m not really sure, but I am.
I’m assuming that it’s because I’ve been feeling older recently. It came as a bit of a shock the other week when I realised that I was nearer to 50 than to 40. Reaching 40 was fine; actually I quite enjoyed it. It meant that I could finally not give a damn about what people thought of me (not that I really did anyway) and I didn’t have to pretend anymore (that, I did do, sorry), but 50! 50 sounds so old! 50 is definitely on the slidey slope down! I mean it doesn’t sound ancient, I know 50 year olds that don’t look or act it, but it’s definitely the fast track to 60 and then 70 and then, well then what? Both my parents died in their 70s so it’s not irrational to think that I will probably do the same, so, based on that, 50 is definitely the ‘not long left’ age!
Also having broken my leg last year and having complications ever since (nothing major, but enough to cause inconvenience and pain and the inability to run or even walk fast at the moment) I’ve started to look back to those days when I was young, able, fit and carefree and I want to listen to stuff that reminds me of ‘the good old days’!
To add to both those reasons above, I have a 22 year old daughter. That’s the age when my life was a ball (ages 20 – 25 being the best). I was out all the time; had a huge group of mates; experienced lots of things, most of which I can’t talk about on here; had highs; lows and generally enjoyed life (actually I enjoyed life between 17-28 pretty much continuously, but 20-25 was definitely the best. So hearing her talking about what she’s up to; seeing her spending her money on clothes, undies, etc brings back all those memories. I don’t begrudge her any of it, I’m the one that nagged her to do it earlier, but I have to admit it does make me reminisce a lot!
So am I just reminiscing or am I in crisis?
It’s a difficult question to answer! You see, apart from the above and being pretty happy with the way things are in my life (I haven’t got the energy for anything else at the moment, but I am one of those people who always thinks the grass is greener even when I know it isn’t), I’ve started to get thoughts about what it would be like to be on my own again. Being completely independent with no dependents if you follow me. Would I do ok as a single woman again. Would I be able to find work; have a decent social life; dare I say it – get another lover?
And this is when I start to wonder if it’s crisis. Does the reminiscing cause me to wonder or is it the wondering that causes the reminiscing? If I could remember which one came first it might help, but that’s like trying to work out which came first with the chicken or the egg, it’s impossible and to try would probably make my head explode!
So, due to the age thing, I’m going to say it’s mid life crisis! But feel free to argue!
xxx
Wednesday, 16 June 2010
AAAAH THAT'S BETTER
Hi all
Have chilled a bit this week, so hopefully no ranting!!!
Went away this past weekend to Great Yarmouth with partner and Callum as it was Callum's birthday and we took his friend (also a Callum) with us. Was great fun for the boys as they spent most of the time between the beach and the arcades. However, not so much fun for me as my beloved partner who is "not interested in football and I only want to watch the England match" spent most of the day in the caravan watching every bloody match that was showing!!! Grrrr!
Ooops, a rant, sorry!
What else has been on my mind? Well, I've had some strange conversations with people over the past couple of weeks, all unconnected, about paranormal activity! Which kind of brings me back to my first blog about my dad and the Drop Dead Fred video. Those of you of a nervous disposition should probably stop reading now - hehe. So here goes:
When I was young I lived in a two bedroomed Council house in Twydall. I had the smaller front bedroom to start with, but when I got older (probably about 8ish) I moved into the back bedroom which was a lot bigger. The door of the room had a very stiff handle which you had to push down and then push a bit more. A bit like the zoom on a digital camera; you zoom in as far as you can, wait a microsecond and then zoom in a bit more (well that's how mine works anyway). Needless to say the bedroom door had a knack to it and it was one of the reasons I was moved in there; I could do it, but my dad, who was in his 50s by then, was having trouble with it as did my mum. I loved that room! It was big enough for me to separate into two areas; bed area and seating area with my record player and my books!
Anyway I'm digressing, but it is pretty important to lay down the grounding to the story. My parents were both ex Sunday School teachers and mum was very religious. I was sent to Sunday School, but never felt 'right' going and I still feel uncomfortable in a church; but that's another blog. Because of mum's religious beliefs she did not under any circumstances believe in ghosts or anything supernatural. She believed you died and went to heaven or hell and that was it! So when I, at the tender age of 8ish, would come downstairs and announce that my bed rocked every night and that my door was always open in the morning she wouldn't have any of it. Her explanation was that I must have dreamt the bed rocking and the door being open must have been me going to the toilet in the night and not remembering. Hmmm! Every night mum?? Seems a bit excessive. And there was more. We started having sharp utensils such as carving knives, bread knives and scissors going missing and they would turn up buried in the garden a few weeks later. Mum's answer: the dog!! Now I know that dogs are intelligent and Rex our mongrel was pretty cool, but to only steal knives and scissors!? And never to cut his mouth!? That seemed a little far fetched to me! I was convinced we had a ghost! Not an unfriendly one, but a ghost nonetheless!!
This phenomenon went on until I left home at 18, the only changes were that knives stopped going missing, but every time I got upset light bulbs would blow all at once and sometimes electrical items would fuse! Now that makes it sound like I'd get in a temper or a wailing moment and the electrics would go, but it wasn't like that. I didn't cry much as a kid as mum was never sympathetic, so I learned to keep upset inside, but whenever it got bad within a few days something would go; either all the bulbs or the hoover would fuse or the telly. It got pretty weird actually, but I was ok with it.
As I've said I left home at 18 and moved in with my then boyfriend and things were good. No bed rocking, no missing implements, no blown bulbs! But, a couple of days after I'd left my mum rang me rather shakily and said "your bed rocks!" Der!!! Yeah!! I've been telling you that for nigh on 10years!! "I'm not sleeping in there, I'm going back on the sofa!"
Two weeks later I got another phone call from mum saying that she'd slept on the sofa for a couple of days and then went back to the bed. She said that the rocking had continued, but that it wasn't unpleasant, but that it had now stopped! She thought she'd let me know! The very next day every light bulb in my house blew and the hoover stopped working! On opening up the plug, all the wires had been pulled out! The kettle then went and exactly the same thing had happened in that plug too! Now some of you would probably have freaked out by this point, but I'd been living with it for over half my life by this point and I actually rather liked my little ghost! I'd even given him a name - Harry! And I often spoke to him as I did on this occasion. "Stop mucking about Harry, so you've found me, now pack it in!" is normally the kind of thing I say! And every time I've moved the same thing has happened. All quiet for a couple of weeks and then it starts again!
I suppose the most freakiest moments were after I had my daughter, Terri. We had a border collie then called Max who was very protective of her. When she was born I'd told Harry that he didn't need to look after me anymore and that he should keep and eye on Terri instead. That evening when we took her up to bed, Max refused to leave her bedroom door and spent the next hour staring at some random spot on the wall next to her room. The next day the hoover blew as did the microwave and the kettle. It appeared that Max didn't like Harry watching Terri and Harry was sulking! Another time I lost my rag with him as I couldn't find any scissors again (I think he takes sharp things to prevent children hurting themselves), so I yelled at him to pack it in and go away! The lightbulbs went on that occasion and then it was quiet! A week or so later I was out in the garden with Terri (a toddler by then) and my neighbour came out and asked if I knew anything about imaginary friends. I asked her why and she said that her youngest boy had suddenly started to talk to someone and it was freaking her out! Apparently he was having proper conversations with pauses in the flow of speech as if listening to the reply. I asked if she knew who/what it was and she replied that it was a man called, wait for it, Harry!!!! "Ah" I said, "he's mine!" I then explained everything to the poor woman and told her to tell him to pack it in and come home. I said she would probably feel pretty daft, but it would work. She did and it did. Her son stopped having conversations and my hoover blew again!!! Welcome home Harry!
Harry is still with me although not so active as he once was! I still get phases of things not working properly and they are normally related to times when I'm either extremely stressed or very upset, but it's fine and he's never been violent. I've been told by several 'medium' type people that he's my Grandad, but I'm not entirely sure as I never met my Grandad and I've never seen Harry, although one of my ex boyfriends apparently did! An old man with lots of white hair was his description and that is pretty much what my Grandad looks like in an old photo I have! I think he's quieter now as there are more of them than before. I'm pretty sure my dad is with me as is a old woman and a young boy, but again I've never seen them fully, only in those far reaches of the eye, but things do happen around me and I do get a lot of 'feelings', so I'm not dismissing it at all.
So Drop Dead Fred!!! My dad was a canny one! He believed me even if mum didn't and I think his choice of video was his way of saying it. As I've already said I think he knew what was coming! Bless him!
Have chilled a bit this week, so hopefully no ranting!!!
Went away this past weekend to Great Yarmouth with partner and Callum as it was Callum's birthday and we took his friend (also a Callum) with us. Was great fun for the boys as they spent most of the time between the beach and the arcades. However, not so much fun for me as my beloved partner who is "not interested in football and I only want to watch the England match" spent most of the day in the caravan watching every bloody match that was showing!!! Grrrr!
Ooops, a rant, sorry!
What else has been on my mind? Well, I've had some strange conversations with people over the past couple of weeks, all unconnected, about paranormal activity! Which kind of brings me back to my first blog about my dad and the Drop Dead Fred video. Those of you of a nervous disposition should probably stop reading now - hehe. So here goes:
When I was young I lived in a two bedroomed Council house in Twydall. I had the smaller front bedroom to start with, but when I got older (probably about 8ish) I moved into the back bedroom which was a lot bigger. The door of the room had a very stiff handle which you had to push down and then push a bit more. A bit like the zoom on a digital camera; you zoom in as far as you can, wait a microsecond and then zoom in a bit more (well that's how mine works anyway). Needless to say the bedroom door had a knack to it and it was one of the reasons I was moved in there; I could do it, but my dad, who was in his 50s by then, was having trouble with it as did my mum. I loved that room! It was big enough for me to separate into two areas; bed area and seating area with my record player and my books!
Anyway I'm digressing, but it is pretty important to lay down the grounding to the story. My parents were both ex Sunday School teachers and mum was very religious. I was sent to Sunday School, but never felt 'right' going and I still feel uncomfortable in a church; but that's another blog. Because of mum's religious beliefs she did not under any circumstances believe in ghosts or anything supernatural. She believed you died and went to heaven or hell and that was it! So when I, at the tender age of 8ish, would come downstairs and announce that my bed rocked every night and that my door was always open in the morning she wouldn't have any of it. Her explanation was that I must have dreamt the bed rocking and the door being open must have been me going to the toilet in the night and not remembering. Hmmm! Every night mum?? Seems a bit excessive. And there was more. We started having sharp utensils such as carving knives, bread knives and scissors going missing and they would turn up buried in the garden a few weeks later. Mum's answer: the dog!! Now I know that dogs are intelligent and Rex our mongrel was pretty cool, but to only steal knives and scissors!? And never to cut his mouth!? That seemed a little far fetched to me! I was convinced we had a ghost! Not an unfriendly one, but a ghost nonetheless!!
This phenomenon went on until I left home at 18, the only changes were that knives stopped going missing, but every time I got upset light bulbs would blow all at once and sometimes electrical items would fuse! Now that makes it sound like I'd get in a temper or a wailing moment and the electrics would go, but it wasn't like that. I didn't cry much as a kid as mum was never sympathetic, so I learned to keep upset inside, but whenever it got bad within a few days something would go; either all the bulbs or the hoover would fuse or the telly. It got pretty weird actually, but I was ok with it.
As I've said I left home at 18 and moved in with my then boyfriend and things were good. No bed rocking, no missing implements, no blown bulbs! But, a couple of days after I'd left my mum rang me rather shakily and said "your bed rocks!" Der!!! Yeah!! I've been telling you that for nigh on 10years!! "I'm not sleeping in there, I'm going back on the sofa!"
Two weeks later I got another phone call from mum saying that she'd slept on the sofa for a couple of days and then went back to the bed. She said that the rocking had continued, but that it wasn't unpleasant, but that it had now stopped! She thought she'd let me know! The very next day every light bulb in my house blew and the hoover stopped working! On opening up the plug, all the wires had been pulled out! The kettle then went and exactly the same thing had happened in that plug too! Now some of you would probably have freaked out by this point, but I'd been living with it for over half my life by this point and I actually rather liked my little ghost! I'd even given him a name - Harry! And I often spoke to him as I did on this occasion. "Stop mucking about Harry, so you've found me, now pack it in!" is normally the kind of thing I say! And every time I've moved the same thing has happened. All quiet for a couple of weeks and then it starts again!
I suppose the most freakiest moments were after I had my daughter, Terri. We had a border collie then called Max who was very protective of her. When she was born I'd told Harry that he didn't need to look after me anymore and that he should keep and eye on Terri instead. That evening when we took her up to bed, Max refused to leave her bedroom door and spent the next hour staring at some random spot on the wall next to her room. The next day the hoover blew as did the microwave and the kettle. It appeared that Max didn't like Harry watching Terri and Harry was sulking! Another time I lost my rag with him as I couldn't find any scissors again (I think he takes sharp things to prevent children hurting themselves), so I yelled at him to pack it in and go away! The lightbulbs went on that occasion and then it was quiet! A week or so later I was out in the garden with Terri (a toddler by then) and my neighbour came out and asked if I knew anything about imaginary friends. I asked her why and she said that her youngest boy had suddenly started to talk to someone and it was freaking her out! Apparently he was having proper conversations with pauses in the flow of speech as if listening to the reply. I asked if she knew who/what it was and she replied that it was a man called, wait for it, Harry!!!! "Ah" I said, "he's mine!" I then explained everything to the poor woman and told her to tell him to pack it in and come home. I said she would probably feel pretty daft, but it would work. She did and it did. Her son stopped having conversations and my hoover blew again!!! Welcome home Harry!
Harry is still with me although not so active as he once was! I still get phases of things not working properly and they are normally related to times when I'm either extremely stressed or very upset, but it's fine and he's never been violent. I've been told by several 'medium' type people that he's my Grandad, but I'm not entirely sure as I never met my Grandad and I've never seen Harry, although one of my ex boyfriends apparently did! An old man with lots of white hair was his description and that is pretty much what my Grandad looks like in an old photo I have! I think he's quieter now as there are more of them than before. I'm pretty sure my dad is with me as is a old woman and a young boy, but again I've never seen them fully, only in those far reaches of the eye, but things do happen around me and I do get a lot of 'feelings', so I'm not dismissing it at all.
So Drop Dead Fred!!! My dad was a canny one! He believed me even if mum didn't and I think his choice of video was his way of saying it. As I've already said I think he knew what was coming! Bless him!
Saturday, 29 May 2010
INTRODUCTION AND BIRTHDAYS
Okay I've decided to write this blog as it isn't about anything but me! It's my thoughts; whether weird, wonderful or just plain wacko. It will partly be about my life, but it will be mostly about my emotions, my dreams and any other non reality stuff that goes on in that grey blancmange that is my brain. I'm not sure if I want to publise the fact that I'm writing it, but if I do and you read it or if I don't and you come across it by accident and read it, so be it. If it means you hate me because of it, that can't be helped. If you no longer wish to be friends with me because you now think I'm completely barmy, I can't help that either. To all my friends who may find this and read it, I love you all!!! I mean no harm, no upset, no malice. Sometimes I might just have to rant and winkle out the thoughts in my head. So here goes:
I'm going to be 47 tomorrow! 47!! 3 more years and I'll be 50!!! Eeek!!!!! Needless to say I'm not a great celebrator of birthdays anymore. To be honest one birthday rolls into another one and although I'll be a year older and a year nearer to my grave, I don't/won't feel any different tomorrow to how I feel today or to how I felt last year or the year before that or the year before that to be honest!
Actually my birthdays haven't really meant much at all since my dad died! He died 4 days before my 30th birthday! It was sudden, no prolonged illness which is good, but it was a shock and not a pleasant one! He was 70! He was my dad and I loved him. He was a weird little muppet, but that made him even more special. You see my dad had been a prisoner of the Germans in WWII and that kind of made him a man of very few words and someone who never really thought anything was a problem. I mean to say, if you had been through that and survived, petty things like bills, weather, neighbours, kids, etc wouldn't exactly be that much of a big deal would they? Life would be great whatever happened as you'd be thinking that you were bloody lucky to even be alive! After being starving to the point where a piece of mouldy bread found in a field was a feast (and that is one story he told me), not having quite enough spuds for the roast dinner isn't exactly going to bring you out in hives is it? To him all life was good! That's my impression of him anyway! I never really asked him about WWII, I should have as I can imagine it would have been mind blowing, but you never do ask your parents stuff do you? It's only after they aren't there anymore that you think "Shit, wish I'd ask him/her about so and so", but, of course, by then it's too late.
My dad was fab, my mum on the other hand was a bit too out there! Mum was 10 years younger than dad, so while he was being marched, starving across fields in Germany, she was a kid running around with the rest of the kids gawping at the house of their school teacher which had been bombed and hoping that said poor woman was dead - kids, haven't changed much have they? My dad was one of 11 kids, my mum one of 4 girls! My dad wanted kids, my mum didn't!! Actually they was so chalk and cheese it always amazed me that they stayed together! But stay together they did and they had me! Just me! And I've grown up to be a slightly fucked up mixture of both of them! I love my kids, like my dad did me. Major crisis doesn't faze me just as much as it didn't faze dad and I'm secretly a romantic. But I'm independent like my mum, as mad as a hatter and prone to bouts of depression just as she was. She dreamed of travelling down the Nile and visiting the Valley of the Kings and I dream of living in the countryside on a homestead with chickens and a goat. She never realised her dream and I doubt very much if I'll ever realise mine, but hey ho, what the hell!
Back to birthdays and dad dying. The weirdest thing about the whole death thing was that my dad had gone out and bought me two videos (remember that format folks?) a couple of days before he died and the titles of those videos were 'Drop Dead Fred' and 'Flatliners' - spooky huh!!?? I still can't watch Flatliners without sobbing uncontrollably at the music at the end, although I love the film and Drop Dead Fred has other connotations that I'll go into at a later date. I cannot for the life of me remember what my mum bought me, but then why would I? That birthday was a poignant one and I think dad knew what was coming!
So as to tomorrow! Don't know what is happening, preferably nothing! I'm hoping for a quiet day with a lie in and a few pressies and a big kiss from my wonderful son. Ooo and Going Postal is on Sky1 tomorrow night and I love Terry Pratchet, so all in all it'll be another day with a few extra niceties dropped in! I will probably have a glass of wine or two or maybe even three and I will at some point have an incredible urge to watch Flatliners and have a good cry. Unfortunately I still only have it on video and our video player died years ago and we never replaced it, one day I must go out and replace the movies just so I can remember my dad in my own weird little way, not that he's ever forgotten, but is always remembered most around about now!
I'm going to be 47 tomorrow! 47!! 3 more years and I'll be 50!!! Eeek!!!!! Needless to say I'm not a great celebrator of birthdays anymore. To be honest one birthday rolls into another one and although I'll be a year older and a year nearer to my grave, I don't/won't feel any different tomorrow to how I feel today or to how I felt last year or the year before that or the year before that to be honest!
Actually my birthdays haven't really meant much at all since my dad died! He died 4 days before my 30th birthday! It was sudden, no prolonged illness which is good, but it was a shock and not a pleasant one! He was 70! He was my dad and I loved him. He was a weird little muppet, but that made him even more special. You see my dad had been a prisoner of the Germans in WWII and that kind of made him a man of very few words and someone who never really thought anything was a problem. I mean to say, if you had been through that and survived, petty things like bills, weather, neighbours, kids, etc wouldn't exactly be that much of a big deal would they? Life would be great whatever happened as you'd be thinking that you were bloody lucky to even be alive! After being starving to the point where a piece of mouldy bread found in a field was a feast (and that is one story he told me), not having quite enough spuds for the roast dinner isn't exactly going to bring you out in hives is it? To him all life was good! That's my impression of him anyway! I never really asked him about WWII, I should have as I can imagine it would have been mind blowing, but you never do ask your parents stuff do you? It's only after they aren't there anymore that you think "Shit, wish I'd ask him/her about so and so", but, of course, by then it's too late.
My dad was fab, my mum on the other hand was a bit too out there! Mum was 10 years younger than dad, so while he was being marched, starving across fields in Germany, she was a kid running around with the rest of the kids gawping at the house of their school teacher which had been bombed and hoping that said poor woman was dead - kids, haven't changed much have they? My dad was one of 11 kids, my mum one of 4 girls! My dad wanted kids, my mum didn't!! Actually they was so chalk and cheese it always amazed me that they stayed together! But stay together they did and they had me! Just me! And I've grown up to be a slightly fucked up mixture of both of them! I love my kids, like my dad did me. Major crisis doesn't faze me just as much as it didn't faze dad and I'm secretly a romantic. But I'm independent like my mum, as mad as a hatter and prone to bouts of depression just as she was. She dreamed of travelling down the Nile and visiting the Valley of the Kings and I dream of living in the countryside on a homestead with chickens and a goat. She never realised her dream and I doubt very much if I'll ever realise mine, but hey ho, what the hell!
Back to birthdays and dad dying. The weirdest thing about the whole death thing was that my dad had gone out and bought me two videos (remember that format folks?) a couple of days before he died and the titles of those videos were 'Drop Dead Fred' and 'Flatliners' - spooky huh!!?? I still can't watch Flatliners without sobbing uncontrollably at the music at the end, although I love the film and Drop Dead Fred has other connotations that I'll go into at a later date. I cannot for the life of me remember what my mum bought me, but then why would I? That birthday was a poignant one and I think dad knew what was coming!
So as to tomorrow! Don't know what is happening, preferably nothing! I'm hoping for a quiet day with a lie in and a few pressies and a big kiss from my wonderful son. Ooo and Going Postal is on Sky1 tomorrow night and I love Terry Pratchet, so all in all it'll be another day with a few extra niceties dropped in! I will probably have a glass of wine or two or maybe even three and I will at some point have an incredible urge to watch Flatliners and have a good cry. Unfortunately I still only have it on video and our video player died years ago and we never replaced it, one day I must go out and replace the movies just so I can remember my dad in my own weird little way, not that he's ever forgotten, but is always remembered most around about now!
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