Tuesday 23rd October 2007...No day is just that, it depends, I suppose, just how you look at it.
Today was my last day at work, apart from some paperwork that is. So why do I feel the way I do? Sad, miserable. I should be happy at being able to just chill. I am , but I prefer to say, taking a gap year, just in order to get my health and life in order.
What a luxury! OK, so many things have now become difficult to do and pain takes a priority and I do hope to get on top of things but I am in the fortunate position of having just one child left at home, one of eight I might add, and a wonderful partner that takes care of us.
She has all she needs as well as the ability and opportunity to work part time, cope with her college work and to socialise with friends. She doesn't need to but we encourage that in order to educate her in the ways of life.
I would give each of them the world if I could but over the years things have been tough and each one has had to accept what was at the time. I have given my time, patience, my love and what little I could at each moment according to my knowledge, and my pocket. The trouble is that as time goes by, and each child develops, they get more knowledge. This knowledge then tells them that they should have had more... attention, support, what ever...
What they are all completely forgetting is that everything happens as it should and at the right time.
My memories are of playing, encouraging creativity, listening to music they made, listening to them when they needed to talk, allowing them to be who they wanted to be, trying to be non judgemental, but most of all spending time with them and being prepared to forget I was the parent sometimes and just being a friend.
Each one of us know the different sacrifices we have lovingly and willingly given our children and we have all done our best. It hurts when they come back with new knowledge and say but Mum/Dad, why didn't you... or I wish that...They will never know just how much of ourselves, Mother or Father, we have given to them because in our material world, unless it can be counted in money or something material to show to someone else, it never happened.
In my class in the last fifteen weeks I have learnt about the ultimate in sacrifice. One student told me about her parents, because the father was sick and unable to provide for their child,her mother lived in a different country for 21 years of their married life in order to educate her. ( Phillipines) Today this student does the same. She lives apart from her husband and child in order to earn enough money to give her daughter a good education and therefore a good life in their own country.
A student from China also lives apart from her husband and daughter so that her child will be able to have a brighter future. She is going home on holiday for three weeks and will celebrate her daughter's third birthday. When she left China, her daughter was unable to speak, today she wants to tell her Mummy so many stories.
I don't know about our children; how can we teach them appreciation in such a materialistic world? I only wish they could realise that we do give all we can for their future. After all, they are the lucky ones, we are here 24/7. They will never know the experience of growing up without a mother or father because our welfare system is family orientated. Parents can be around no matter what the situation because we have a system where no one needs to be hungry, destitute or homeless any more.
I wish we could educate our children what is happening in the rest of the world. These parents are so proud to be supporting their children in this way. Their children feel honoured that they had good parents, but what a sacrifice to their own lives. But at least they probably don't have as many arguments as we do because we are always together.
OK, my thoughts have been vented and tomorrow, an ordinary day, might lift my spirits so that I can blog with my usual wacky outlook on life. Today I honour all parents everywhere with my serious head on.
JM
Tuesday, 23 October 2007
Monday, 22 October 2007
Not our life but. ..
Today has been just an ordinary, boring Monday for me, well almost, until I watched the news...
Recently I gave up work due to ill health and in the blog, that I now have time to do each day, I am recording my sometimes wacky view of my world..
Today however, I wept, for myself... self pity they call it... sad that I have had to give up something that I have only just achieved in my life.. a degree and a career at fifty odd. But it was more than that to me, much more. I was an ESOL lecturer, which means I taught English to immigrants from other countries.
Then today I watched the news and I felt sad about what is happening in Iran and all those countries. Not that I am in any way political, far from it. What made me so sad was the memory of one student from Iraq.A boy of seventeen. I had a one to one during one lesson because no one else had turned up and after going through various written exercises I sensed that it might be good to do a 'speaking and listening' exercise with him.
I learned that he had ran away from his country with just a friend of the same age. He ended up in London and finally down to my area... I thought of my own lads at seventeen...
He had lost all his family apart from one married brother. He had no schooling because 'It wasn't safe to have so many children in one place' yet he was sitting here in my class week after week, no matter what, desperate to learn English and unable to read and write in his own language. As he told me his story, I wept. I tried not to and apologised to him.
I will remember that lad to my dying day, and the positive attitude he had.
We talked about religion and he told me he was a Muslim because his father, grandfather and great grand father had been but .. and he drew a circle on the table. 'This is god, whoever you see him as.' He then went on to draw many lines all squigly and messed up, emanating from that circle...'These are Muslims, these Christians, those might be Catholics...' he went on, ' but can you see where they all end up?' he asked... 'The same place. I want to learn and grow and what ever I believe in, I am a good person, no different to everyone else in any religion, I don't understand why they fight.'And he was right.
Here was a young man who had been through so much, lost everything, and yet he just wanted to be the best he could be. Strong despite what life and religion had taught him and prepared to see a different view. How much could our children learn from lads such as him?
So I was sad today because of him. I may have made little difference in his life but I listened and I cared, maybe too much, but hell! I'm only human. I worked in the asylum centre too and the stories were similar.
I am going to miss my students so much, along with the lessons that they taught me every day. So, although I am sad for myself, their stories remind me that self pity is a worthless emotion, after all these young people are striving so hard to have a normal,decent life, even bereft of the wonderful memories that I preciously record day by day, their stories remind me that I have so much.Time to give myself a severe talking to methinks!
Recently I gave up work due to ill health and in the blog, that I now have time to do each day, I am recording my sometimes wacky view of my world..
Today however, I wept, for myself... self pity they call it... sad that I have had to give up something that I have only just achieved in my life.. a degree and a career at fifty odd. But it was more than that to me, much more. I was an ESOL lecturer, which means I taught English to immigrants from other countries.
Then today I watched the news and I felt sad about what is happening in Iran and all those countries. Not that I am in any way political, far from it. What made me so sad was the memory of one student from Iraq.A boy of seventeen. I had a one to one during one lesson because no one else had turned up and after going through various written exercises I sensed that it might be good to do a 'speaking and listening' exercise with him.
I learned that he had ran away from his country with just a friend of the same age. He ended up in London and finally down to my area... I thought of my own lads at seventeen...
He had lost all his family apart from one married brother. He had no schooling because 'It wasn't safe to have so many children in one place' yet he was sitting here in my class week after week, no matter what, desperate to learn English and unable to read and write in his own language. As he told me his story, I wept. I tried not to and apologised to him.
I will remember that lad to my dying day, and the positive attitude he had.
We talked about religion and he told me he was a Muslim because his father, grandfather and great grand father had been but .. and he drew a circle on the table. 'This is god, whoever you see him as.' He then went on to draw many lines all squigly and messed up, emanating from that circle...'These are Muslims, these Christians, those might be Catholics...' he went on, ' but can you see where they all end up?' he asked... 'The same place. I want to learn and grow and what ever I believe in, I am a good person, no different to everyone else in any religion, I don't understand why they fight.'And he was right.
Here was a young man who had been through so much, lost everything, and yet he just wanted to be the best he could be. Strong despite what life and religion had taught him and prepared to see a different view. How much could our children learn from lads such as him?
So I was sad today because of him. I may have made little difference in his life but I listened and I cared, maybe too much, but hell! I'm only human. I worked in the asylum centre too and the stories were similar.
I am going to miss my students so much, along with the lessons that they taught me every day. So, although I am sad for myself, their stories remind me that self pity is a worthless emotion, after all these young people are striving so hard to have a normal,decent life, even bereft of the wonderful memories that I preciously record day by day, their stories remind me that I have so much.Time to give myself a severe talking to methinks!
Sunday.. family days!
When I was a kid, Sundays were for quiet times, whatever happened?
With no-one else but ourselves in the house, Harry and I decided to go for a walk along the Hard and take some pics as a reference for my painting later on. Oh the bliss of a quiet walk along the shoreline. Yatchs skimming into the sights, blue skies, sea birds, children, the occasional dog in the water... perfect.
I was expecting my daughter home and my son, who she had been staying with for the weekend, to stay for dinner with his wife.. and we were back in plenty of time. Ok so far.
Roast dinner cooked and son seated in front of box to watch the Grand Prix while the rest of us sit at the table... no probs.. My mistake?
I asked him about the damp patch in the cupboard under the stairs... you know, the one where the slug dined... Silly, stupid me..
So he's 30, has completely refurbished his own house and built an extension.. I have faith in him, OK ?
So why do I have a skirting board missing and bare bricks showing and instructions to drill holes in impossible places. He wasn't able to remove the kick board under the kitchen units or I cannot imagine what I might find..
'It's just condensation Mum, see there's only dry brick dust under here.'
I suppose I must be thankful that I can spend the money we have saved, on badly needed fitted carpets rather than builders. So I smiled and said awww thanks son.
Well, that was nothing to the flash of turmoil he caused with his sister.
'Have you seen my phone Mum?'
'No, you had it last time I saw it.'
Well actually no, she had shown it to her brother who had cleverly failed to give it back. To cut the story short, after searching the house she came downstairs to hear her bro on her phone saying .
'Actually mate, shes bored with you and is staying a bit longer at our place, so she won't be seeing you tonight....'
It was one of those occasions when you needed an instant camera... Scott falling about in hysterics and saying, complete with perfect demonstrative mime
'I heard your heart hit the floor.'
Daughter is now at almost screaming pitch with panic... and the rest of us trying so hard not to get involved... oooooh!
As we waved my son and daughter-in-law goodbye...' I'll get you back!' wails from behind me.. I know she will... I could publish a book on the tricks they have played on each other, and me, over the years... Bless. Ahh, the wonderful joy of sharing in a family Sunday.
With no-one else but ourselves in the house, Harry and I decided to go for a walk along the Hard and take some pics as a reference for my painting later on. Oh the bliss of a quiet walk along the shoreline. Yatchs skimming into the sights, blue skies, sea birds, children, the occasional dog in the water... perfect.
I was expecting my daughter home and my son, who she had been staying with for the weekend, to stay for dinner with his wife.. and we were back in plenty of time. Ok so far.
Roast dinner cooked and son seated in front of box to watch the Grand Prix while the rest of us sit at the table... no probs.. My mistake?
I asked him about the damp patch in the cupboard under the stairs... you know, the one where the slug dined... Silly, stupid me..
So he's 30, has completely refurbished his own house and built an extension.. I have faith in him, OK ?
So why do I have a skirting board missing and bare bricks showing and instructions to drill holes in impossible places. He wasn't able to remove the kick board under the kitchen units or I cannot imagine what I might find..
'It's just condensation Mum, see there's only dry brick dust under here.'
I suppose I must be thankful that I can spend the money we have saved, on badly needed fitted carpets rather than builders. So I smiled and said awww thanks son.
Well, that was nothing to the flash of turmoil he caused with his sister.
'Have you seen my phone Mum?'
'No, you had it last time I saw it.'
Well actually no, she had shown it to her brother who had cleverly failed to give it back. To cut the story short, after searching the house she came downstairs to hear her bro on her phone saying .
'Actually mate, shes bored with you and is staying a bit longer at our place, so she won't be seeing you tonight....'
It was one of those occasions when you needed an instant camera... Scott falling about in hysterics and saying, complete with perfect demonstrative mime
'I heard your heart hit the floor.'
Daughter is now at almost screaming pitch with panic... and the rest of us trying so hard not to get involved... oooooh!
As we waved my son and daughter-in-law goodbye...' I'll get you back!' wails from behind me.. I know she will... I could publish a book on the tricks they have played on each other, and me, over the years... Bless. Ahh, the wonderful joy of sharing in a family Sunday.
Saturday, 20 October 2007
Shopping
Well, ok maybe the sequin trail was a little 'twee' but this is creative writing after all. I do have another theory, maybe, just maybe, the slug was itself, or herself, on a shopping spree...
Disguised as a slimy creature, the small alien entered the back door by hanging desperately to the bottom of the laundry basket that had earlier been left on the patio to recover the said washing from the earlier blog. Its sole purpose was to ascertain exactly what kind of scran, nosh, edibles etcetera,were consumed on this particular premises, and was it more desirable than the compost heap where they had secreted their vehicle. I can only assume by the vast amounts of slime regurgitated on the carpet, the surface of the cardboard box from the understair cupboard was not to its taste. I just wonder what it thought of the discarded cat biscuit.
However, its mission, so sadly ended under the paws of the deadly black cat creature, all those poor starving slimebugs out there may never know what other delights my kitchen might concede.
Talking of shopping.... Saturday is shopping day. Am I the only female that really hates shopping? List in hand not wishing to forget anything, I dash into the supermarket and gather what I need, pay and leave the store.
Harry, bless him, on the other hand loves shopping. 'Just look at this, do you fancy trying it?' I answer really clear and strong 'No!'
It's the look they give... maybe I am soft, stupid, whatever, I give in. By the time we leave the store we have spent double what I had anticipated on and he is practically incoherent at the checkout re. the bill.
We step outside the store and he is quiet. I count... one,two, three. ... ten. ' We'll have to watch the money, we've only xxx left for the rest of the month.'
I smile sweetly, resisting the urge to say what I am really thinking.' Want a lettuce leaf to lick or something? salads are so good for you, it will be fine.' I reassure him.
So who is to blame I wonder, no doubt it is me for not being strong enough to say no. Mind you if I am paying it is a different story... economy is the word!
On the other hand, I wish I could be like my daughters. Check the bank balance... hmmm xxxx left so xxxx to spend. Not only that the youngest and most resourceful, has wheedled a weekend at her brother's and persuaded her sister in law that it would be great to do a sisterly thing and go to Worthing to buy what ever it is she's not sure she wants yet. But it's OK there is still a small patch in her room where I can tell what the carpet looks like, plenty of room for more clothes!
I do know the answer to taking him shopping though... I discovered it completely by chance. You know these 24 hour supermarkets? Greatest thing ever! We'd been at a party one Friday evening recently and it was around 11 0'clock as we travelled back home. Now Harry doesn't drink but I enjoy a glass of wine or two, maybe three and well it does make one do things that one would normally never even consider.
'Let's do the shopping on the way home!' I announce.Harry looks doubtful, 's'ok', says I happily, 'I can remember what we need.'
Now by this time he is just ready for bed but agrees anyway. Well, I don't actually remember all of it but we shopped, got back and unloaded and put away in record time. Harry I seem to remember was awfully quiet, but.... I had indeed remembered my list and put it all away in the right places so, my solution is to shop at night after a few drinks so I don't care and at a time when he is too tired to even think about shopping... what a genius!
Now I could have sworn I bought slug pellets??? M
Disguised as a slimy creature, the small alien entered the back door by hanging desperately to the bottom of the laundry basket that had earlier been left on the patio to recover the said washing from the earlier blog. Its sole purpose was to ascertain exactly what kind of scran, nosh, edibles etcetera,were consumed on this particular premises, and was it more desirable than the compost heap where they had secreted their vehicle. I can only assume by the vast amounts of slime regurgitated on the carpet, the surface of the cardboard box from the understair cupboard was not to its taste. I just wonder what it thought of the discarded cat biscuit.
However, its mission, so sadly ended under the paws of the deadly black cat creature, all those poor starving slimebugs out there may never know what other delights my kitchen might concede.
Talking of shopping.... Saturday is shopping day. Am I the only female that really hates shopping? List in hand not wishing to forget anything, I dash into the supermarket and gather what I need, pay and leave the store.
Harry, bless him, on the other hand loves shopping. 'Just look at this, do you fancy trying it?' I answer really clear and strong 'No!'
It's the look they give... maybe I am soft, stupid, whatever, I give in. By the time we leave the store we have spent double what I had anticipated on and he is practically incoherent at the checkout re. the bill.
We step outside the store and he is quiet. I count... one,two, three. ... ten. ' We'll have to watch the money, we've only xxx left for the rest of the month.'
I smile sweetly, resisting the urge to say what I am really thinking.' Want a lettuce leaf to lick or something? salads are so good for you, it will be fine.' I reassure him.
So who is to blame I wonder, no doubt it is me for not being strong enough to say no. Mind you if I am paying it is a different story... economy is the word!
On the other hand, I wish I could be like my daughters. Check the bank balance... hmmm xxxx left so xxxx to spend. Not only that the youngest and most resourceful, has wheedled a weekend at her brother's and persuaded her sister in law that it would be great to do a sisterly thing and go to Worthing to buy what ever it is she's not sure she wants yet. But it's OK there is still a small patch in her room where I can tell what the carpet looks like, plenty of room for more clothes!
I do know the answer to taking him shopping though... I discovered it completely by chance. You know these 24 hour supermarkets? Greatest thing ever! We'd been at a party one Friday evening recently and it was around 11 0'clock as we travelled back home. Now Harry doesn't drink but I enjoy a glass of wine or two, maybe three and well it does make one do things that one would normally never even consider.
'Let's do the shopping on the way home!' I announce.Harry looks doubtful, 's'ok', says I happily, 'I can remember what we need.'
Now by this time he is just ready for bed but agrees anyway. Well, I don't actually remember all of it but we shopped, got back and unloaded and put away in record time. Harry I seem to remember was awfully quiet, but.... I had indeed remembered my list and put it all away in the right places so, my solution is to shop at night after a few drinks so I don't care and at a time when he is too tired to even think about shopping... what a genius!
Now I could have sworn I bought slug pellets??? M
Friday, 19 October 2007
Silver trails
When I came downstairs this morning there, just inside the front door, was a trail of sequins. Shiny orbs of silver that led through the lounge and, although thinning out, trailed into the dining room. I haven't vacuumed them up, not yet anyway. They remind me, not only of a great night out watching another of my children on stage, but that in such a short time, when my she goes to Uni, I will miss all the little things that drive me mad sometimes.
As I walked through the dining room following the sequins from my daughter's dream I met another silver trail into the kitchen. The cat was jumping around and playing with something so I went to investigate the frivolity. During the night a small slug had found its way into the house and had failed to go unnoticed by my feline friend, how I came down to earth with a bump!
It all goes to remind me that even though I support my kids in their dreams I must help them to remember that no matter how many stars and sequins glitter their eyes there is always a slug trail on the floor to bring them down to earth again.
Now, I am blessed with a very talented family, from strange way out music from 'Ethnomorph', my eldest, to photography and gifted art and music abilities from all the others, but a guy that wants to get his Spanish degree and then move on to ..... circus school???? Hmmmm
One by one they have all left little mementos around the house that I have collected and treasure; DVDs, video tapes, booking tickets, flyers, tape recordings, photographs... juggling balls.
I shall collect the sequins and place them in a little packet with the tickets and programme from last night's show and they will take their place in my memory box among countless other sentimental but useless memorabilia.
As I walked through the dining room following the sequins from my daughter's dream I met another silver trail into the kitchen. The cat was jumping around and playing with something so I went to investigate the frivolity. During the night a small slug had found its way into the house and had failed to go unnoticed by my feline friend, how I came down to earth with a bump!
It all goes to remind me that even though I support my kids in their dreams I must help them to remember that no matter how many stars and sequins glitter their eyes there is always a slug trail on the floor to bring them down to earth again.
Wednesday, 17 October 2007
Drama everywhere
After waiting until 11.30pm, my thespian daughter returned home from her rehearsals safely. Not before everything but the the bogeyman had happened to her in my mind. Horrendous weather and night terror tales did nothing to stop me worrying. At what point do you stop becoming just concerned and become interfering? So she's nearly eighteen and extremely mature, but don't we all worry?
Today she is away for her driving lesson.. not being a driver myself because having failed my test twice I decided that it was safer for me to be a passenger than a driver, for other road users that is. With the very first words of my first driving instructor echoing in my head 'Have you ever driven before? followed by an explanation of how the gears worked. Like I understood, not being at all mechanical. He then went on to say 'This car is a Seat, and I want you to consider it a killing machine.' ??? and then I was expected to get on the road and drive....???
I wave Tabitha off with a smile and a prayer to busy myself with more mundane and safe things, like hanging out the washing. Mind you, I need bravery pills to go down my garden this time of year. I have spiders big enough for a Sunday roast, I swear. They take great delight in stringing their steel like webs to capture me as I venture through their playground.
I walk cautiously with a witches broom ahead of me, waving manically at the air, swinging in all directions, no wonder my neighbours don't speak to me. Satisfied there are no webs, I can trundle down with the washing, hang it out and be trotting back up to the house content at a job safely done.
Why then do I become distracted by a weed or just something I need to nip off, tidy up or remove. They sit there waiting you know, they are arachnoid psychoanalysts, they know I will do it. If they don't fool me by waiting in the corners of the rotary clothes line they get me as I potter in the borders. Face to face with something from James and the Giant Peach, only far less colourful and endearing.
I run the length of the garden and dive into the kitchen to make a deserving cup of tea to help me recover from the ordeal. Bliss, a quiet sit and read to recover. My head tickles, no sign of the cat behind me, reaching out his paw... I scratch my head. Still it tickles. Then it appears, swinging from my hair like Tarzan, it laughs you know, like a drain, as I perfom an acrobatic dancing act as no other artiste.. and my daughter thought she was the only drama queen in the family. Maybe I'll ask her to get the washing in... JM
Today she is away for her driving lesson.. not being a driver myself because having failed my test twice I decided that it was safer for me to be a passenger than a driver, for other road users that is. With the very first words of my first driving instructor echoing in my head 'Have you ever driven before? followed by an explanation of how the gears worked. Like I understood, not being at all mechanical. He then went on to say 'This car is a Seat, and I want you to consider it a killing machine.' ??? and then I was expected to get on the road and drive....???
I wave Tabitha off with a smile and a prayer to busy myself with more mundane and safe things, like hanging out the washing. Mind you, I need bravery pills to go down my garden this time of year. I have spiders big enough for a Sunday roast, I swear. They take great delight in stringing their steel like webs to capture me as I venture through their playground.
I walk cautiously with a witches broom ahead of me, waving manically at the air, swinging in all directions, no wonder my neighbours don't speak to me. Satisfied there are no webs, I can trundle down with the washing, hang it out and be trotting back up to the house content at a job safely done.
Why then do I become distracted by a weed or just something I need to nip off, tidy up or remove. They sit there waiting you know, they are arachnoid psychoanalysts, they know I will do it. If they don't fool me by waiting in the corners of the rotary clothes line they get me as I potter in the borders. Face to face with something from James and the Giant Peach, only far less colourful and endearing.
I run the length of the garden and dive into the kitchen to make a deserving cup of tea to help me recover from the ordeal. Bliss, a quiet sit and read to recover. My head tickles, no sign of the cat behind me, reaching out his paw... I scratch my head. Still it tickles. Then it appears, swinging from my hair like Tarzan, it laughs you know, like a drain, as I perfom an acrobatic dancing act as no other artiste.. and my daughter thought she was the only drama queen in the family. Maybe I'll ask her to get the washing in... JM
Getting the hang of it .. Ouch!
Well now, another day and another blog. The gremlin that decided my ear should lead me a merry dance has worked brilliantly, not only deaf but in agony still. Where does creativity go when pain sings loudly in one's ear. I guess creative writing doesn't include writing a business port folio... what a beast... and what are the going rates for such a project. My mind is too busy trying not to be in pain to even think today but a short blog is better than no blog and I am sure I shall be paid a reasonable amount once I find out where to look. Waiting for the drama queen to arrive home from rehearsals and on such a filthy night. 'The Tempest' did the play set the scene for the night too? Shakespeare, now there's a wonderful man if ever there was and to think if it hadn't been for Wills, we'd be short of at least 26 words in our vocabulary and still be reading in Latin maybe. Heavens! his work is hard enough to read in English. Still all these rehearsals and line learning means another night out at the theatre for me. Well its long past time she should be home so an investigation is needed. She mentioned a sleep over but I thought rehearsals cancelled that. She asked me to leave her supper... hmmmmm ok time to check it out... JM
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
Did you ever wish...
Did you ever wish that you could change a day? Here was I determined to be on the ball, caught up with everything and to find time to write this amazing story. Until some sort of gremlin got at me that was, and funnily enough I'd had a warning only days ago. Guess who never listened?..
A friend who I had not heard from for while, mainly because she had been out of the country, called for a chat. She told me that she'd been really ill with an ear infection, caused simply by scratching an itchy ear.
Now I have already suspected that the shampoo manufaturers are in collaboration with the drug companies, you know, I can hear them as they pour the financial cream on the cookies. 'Just one small ingredient.. give everyone itchy ears! We'll make a forecast of ... oooh at least .....!!'
Well, thats what started it, an itchy ear I mean, and like most people I scratched and 'itched' it. To shorten a drawn out story, here I am in the surgery nursing the grandaddy of all earaches.I caught sight of something out of the corner of my eye, laughing and rubbing his little hands as he slipped unseen around the surgery. No one spoke and I longed to speak and point him out. But I was deaf and anything I said might well have sounded like I would be yelling from the other side of the road. So I kept quiet.
As I meekly collected my prescription, he was there, clip board in hand, perusing the shampoos and conditioners... ticking little boxes, crossing others. No one took any notice! It dawned on me, still, only I could see it. He was ticking all the products I had tried out in order to rid myself of these itchy ears and with an evil grin on his face.. Hmmm. Thinking hastily I reached out and pulled a box from the shelf. His face distorted in fear and he turned a dull grey colour. As suddenly as I had caught sight of him he dramatically disappeared, exploded into dozens of bits all over the floor..."Ooh, I'm sorry dear, my bag seems to have caught the shelf, I'll help you pick it all up." The elderly lady was quite embarrassed at the accidental removal of an entire shelf behind where she stood. But I knew what had really happened!
I placed the nit shampoo back on the shelf and left the shop.Next time I am going to listen to advice from a friend no matter how obscure. Now my third day of blogging has been scuppered, I am going to bed with a painkiller and a hot water bottle... till tomorrow. JM
A friend who I had not heard from for while, mainly because she had been out of the country, called for a chat. She told me that she'd been really ill with an ear infection, caused simply by scratching an itchy ear.
Now I have already suspected that the shampoo manufaturers are in collaboration with the drug companies, you know, I can hear them as they pour the financial cream on the cookies. 'Just one small ingredient.. give everyone itchy ears! We'll make a forecast of ... oooh at least .....!!'
Well, thats what started it, an itchy ear I mean, and like most people I scratched and 'itched' it. To shorten a drawn out story, here I am in the surgery nursing the grandaddy of all earaches.I caught sight of something out of the corner of my eye, laughing and rubbing his little hands as he slipped unseen around the surgery. No one spoke and I longed to speak and point him out. But I was deaf and anything I said might well have sounded like I would be yelling from the other side of the road. So I kept quiet.
As I meekly collected my prescription, he was there, clip board in hand, perusing the shampoos and conditioners... ticking little boxes, crossing others. No one took any notice! It dawned on me, still, only I could see it. He was ticking all the products I had tried out in order to rid myself of these itchy ears and with an evil grin on his face.. Hmmm. Thinking hastily I reached out and pulled a box from the shelf. His face distorted in fear and he turned a dull grey colour. As suddenly as I had caught sight of him he dramatically disappeared, exploded into dozens of bits all over the floor..."Ooh, I'm sorry dear, my bag seems to have caught the shelf, I'll help you pick it all up." The elderly lady was quite embarrassed at the accidental removal of an entire shelf behind where she stood. But I knew what had really happened!
I placed the nit shampoo back on the shelf and left the shop.Next time I am going to listen to advice from a friend no matter how obscure. Now my third day of blogging has been scuppered, I am going to bed with a painkiller and a hot water bottle... till tomorrow. JM
Musings more
Well now, day two... hm nearly the end of day two at that. I am disappointed that I can't report any dashing dark strangers dressed in flowing robes that swept me off on the back of a horse far into the night.. Maybe that never happens anyway. Instead I got swept into a wave of nostalgia as I went to visit my, nearly to term, pregnant daughter to help her celebrate her last birthday as just Suzi. Twenty one years ago seems a long, long time. From aching to hold my own baby in my arms I now wait to hold hers, the only difference is I didn't know who my baby was going to be until she arrived. Maica Poppy on the other hand has been well established as my newest grand daughter for many months now. We even know that she looks like her daddy. Amazing these 4D scans, a little window into the future.
Her Daddy, Oscar, now, is a dashing, tall, dark stranger who will whisk my daughter away... ok, so not on the back of a horse but still to lands afar. I feel a little sad that they are going off to live in his homeland, Spain. Was it something I said?I have grandchildren in Switzerland, Florida and now soon to be Spain... Still lots of nice holiday visits for when I retire.What a strange day and full of nostalgia. I guess I read somewhere that the greatest gifts we can give our children are roots, so they always belong and wings so that they can fly... I just never thought they would all fly so far but at least it lets me know I did my job OK. Well, almost, my youngest daughter says she's not leaving home until she's at least thirty... Sigh.
http://amelieslog.blogspot.com/
Her Daddy, Oscar, now, is a dashing, tall, dark stranger who will whisk my daughter away... ok, so not on the back of a horse but still to lands afar. I feel a little sad that they are going off to live in his homeland, Spain. Was it something I said?I have grandchildren in Switzerland, Florida and now soon to be Spain... Still lots of nice holiday visits for when I retire.What a strange day and full of nostalgia. I guess I read somewhere that the greatest gifts we can give our children are roots, so they always belong and wings so that they can fly... I just never thought they would all fly so far but at least it lets me know I did my job OK. Well, almost, my youngest daughter says she's not leaving home until she's at least thirty... Sigh.
http://amelieslog.blogspot.com/
Musings of a beginner blogger.
Oh my! My very first words on my very first blog page... A blogging virgin. So many things to write about... too many choices. I suppose I could write about my day, maybe my life? Love the kids but well... who wants to hear about them, too many anyway, be here all day.I guess I should just get into the wonderful world of just... writing... for no better reason than I can. Where else can you get swept away on a tide of salt flavoured imaginings, crisp upon golden sands, glide behind rustling silks from the dark stranger on horseback? ... better than going to the cinema .. like a dream but you get the chance to decide where to go and why you wanted to go there... mmmmm ... AND you don't have to break the dream for an enforced ice cream interval. Wish I could write a film script!Hey, I have a plot already... will you look at at that!The writer becomes the heroine in a film that she is writing as it goes along, only she doesn't know it until.... ah but that's like reading the last page before you're halfway through it.Until next time.... JM
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)