Friday, 18 July 2008

Headbutting is no cure

I know how she feels... my cat Banjo will be ten years' old this September, while the new addition - Pebble, will be just one year old. Just when Banjo thinks he has calmed down and she can wash him thoroughly without him swiping her with his immature paw, he attacks her playfully and being an elderly cat, she hisses and growls until he backs off. It's not easy for her and I admire her patience with him. He is confused as to how he should behave... he wants to 'rough and tumble' and chase her upstairs and in the garden while she prefers a more sedate existence.

I, on the other hand, wouldn't mind a bit of 'rough and tumble', or being chased upstairs... or, come to think of it, even the garden would be good! Enough of that!

I've been looking again at the courses on offer at Oxford College of Continuing Education... and there are three possibles; archaeology, psychology and epistomology - the latter being something I know a little of, having studied how people acquire knowledge, whilst doing my Masters in Education. I just need to work out my finances so that I could possibly do all three courses. As for finding a job, well I've scoured the papers again this week and there's nothing I can do... not unless I have an NVQ in English, Media Studies or Caring for the Elderly. Each week I feel more and more useless. You'd think that someone with an armful of qualifications, years of experience and a trunkload of training certificates could find something!

Little amourous man was swimming in the pool alongside me yesterday; powerfully doing the crawl, muscles rippling in the water, glancing at me now and then as I tried to powerfully do the breast stroke alongside him. I got out of the pool and languished in the jacuzzi, looking out of the window at the ducks on the little man-made lake. Why doesn't he get the message? As for doing the breast stoke; I have been to 'Bravissimo' to try and get a proper fitting bra. Four years' ago a woman at M&S measured me and said I was definitely a 38B. So having spent a fortune on lots of bras that don't fit, I wasn't surprised to learn that I am in fact, a 34DD. So now I have spent more money on bras that fit me for five minutes and then seem uncomfortable. I think I shall just burn the lot and go 'free', in the hope that I don't frighten the horses!

Just to add to my feeling of becoming useless, old and invisible, I read today that women's nipples shrink once past fifty-ish! So going bra-less won't be a problem - even in cold weather!

Thursday, 17 July 2008

Hollyhocks and people

I have been growing hollyhocks for several years and love the surprise of their colour, for it never seems to stay the same. I'm not one for meticulously labelling everything in latin and love the surprise of an unexpected colour. Hollyhocks are like some people; flowers that can take some time to emerge and seem beautiful, but one or two plants despite their beauty can have an affliction of fungus that detracts from their overall beauty. Yep, it's good old human nature again... just when you think you have found someone 'nice', they say or do something that makes you back off.

One or two of my fellow Green Gymmers have surprised me in their abruptness, rudeness, thoughtlessness or selfishness. Such is the nature of human beings. But, for every one afflicted with a bit of fungal rust, there is another who is without blemish and who shines through.

Mama Mia... I sat with two of my daughters and laughed my socks off! It was a delight from start to finish and who'd have thought that Didcot on a Tuesday evening could be full of laughing, happy, mainly women, tumbling out of the new cinema complex talking animatedly about the film that was made on a budget and was ten years in the making due to the reluctance of Producers to take it seriously! Who cares if Mr Brosnan and Co didn't hit every note perfectly... it didn't matter because the sentiment was there, and people in the audience were shedding tears of sorrow one minute, and tears of laughter the next. Forget the critics, the film is a must... a 'feel-good' film that lifts the spirits. Highly recommended.

I wish some of my 'hollyhock' acquaintances in The Green Gym could 'let go' and just be themselves instead of making other's lives just a little less enjoyable.

Monday, 14 July 2008

A Petunia in an Onion Patch

Just like the song, 'I'm a poor little petunia in an onion patch', this opium poppy has shot up in the midst of my lavender and just like me seems so out of place amongst everyone else. I, like my fellow bereaved Puddock, am at the stage... three years almost, when I have proved too, that I can survive living in my home, I can hold conversations (of a sort) with others, can provide myself with food and entertain myself with the help of some good books, DVDs and two crazy cats who give me cuddles when I most need them. So what's the problem? I need more than DVDs and books. I too, need to be loved and cared for and have someone else to care for. The thought of spending perhaps another thirty years living in this sort of twilight world, not knowing where I fit in with society, the world or anything, is making me depressed... something I have fought against since he died.

Tomorrow night I am actually going out. Yes, to the cinema to see Mama Mia. I have roped in my daughters to accompany me; they agreed because their partners don't really fancy the film. I haven't been outside the house after eight o'clock for a very long time, except to empty the bin, and hope I can stay awake long enough to see the entire film. I'm hoping it will lift my spirits and keep me going for another week or two until I can find something else to look forward to.

On the subject of finding someone to care for and who will care for and love me ... is it all too much to hope for? I've surely had my ten years of true love, do we get another chance?

Sunday, 13 July 2008

The Postman's legs get wet.

It's not easy trying to walk up my garden path with soaking wet lavender almost meeting, and even worse for the Postman who insists on wearing shorts in the rain. Any day I expect to see him with Machete in hand and shouting something from Kung Fu as he battles up my path with his bag of mail.

Today was the first fine day for a long time, but it didn't lift my low mood. It's coming up to three years since he went and I still don't know why I'm on this planet... nothing seems to have changed! My usual optimistic approach is deserting me and I look at all the couples ( who are just about everywhere), and feel happy for them, but then feel even lonelier than before. I hurt myself today while lifting the heavy lawn-mower over the gravel, and just dissolved into tears. Is this what it's going to be like... struggling with heavy objects; trying to work the electric drill without it speeding off in another direction; wondering how I'm going to paint the top of the stair well; wanting to go on holiday, but can't bear the loneliness of being alone with all those other couples. It's a day of feeling sorry for myself, but I don't care... I'm allowed! So I don't care if the Postman's legs get wet, the lavender looks lovely.