Widow in Oxfordshire

Real men wear pink

2010-05-20T04:02:00.001-07:00

Several years' ago, me and my man visited America; starting at San Francisco before driving down the Pacific Highway to Los Angeles. We arrived at our hotel in the evening and decided to catch a tram down to the dock. There was standing room only on the tram, so my man and I stood. The tram pulled to a halt and a man squeezed between us, brushing his hand lightly across my man's bottom, saying seductively, 'my, you have a nice smile.' This was a bit of a shock to us both; being quite naively British and very 'straight'. My tall and macho man was wearing a pink denim shirt at the time and reflected that perhaps it was the pink shirt that 'did it' and he pondered on whether or not to wear it again. Yes, wear it, said I... real men wear pink... a colour does not denote your sexual orientation... (or does it)?

Now my new friend has just bought a pink polo shirt... he is a real man too! By 'real' I mean he is at ease with his sexuality and does not shy away from a colour that traditionally has not been seen as a man's colour.

For Me? I prefer blue!

New Beginnings

2010-04-27T13:39:00.001-07:00

My garden and I have sprung to life once again! Hence a trip to a garden centre took place where I strolled through the Rose section and saw a Rose named 'New Beginnings'. A nice commemoration I think! And very apt!

It's been a long time since I felt this good! My stomach problems are drifting away and all tests seem to come back normal; I have lost a bit of weight, which pleases me and I have found a new friend.

For the first time in four years and seven months I feel as though I can move forward without looking back; plan things; do new things; meet new people; organise my career and start again.

Writing my blog along the way has been therapeutic, cathartic and enlightening... leading me forwards to this point. Thank you blog friends for making the sometimes unbearable journey with me... now I can begin a new Chapter of my life and will not speak again of death, bereavement and loss.

I may go back and buy that Rose!

Meerkat with broom handle

2010-03-28T04:28:00.001-07:00

I wasn't looking forward to an Endoscopy, so opted for the heavy sedation rather than a throat numbing spray. The waiting room was packed with similarly worried looking people of all ages. My daughter sat with me, not reading her magazine; both of us quite silent... waiting. Eventually I was called into a room to have a 'chat' to the nurse. I explained that I had a sore throat and a headache, therefore, would it be better to come back another day? She took my temperature, blood pressure, heart rate and said I was okay to go ahead! Bugger! I really did have a sore throat and headache! She asked how often I suffered with acid reflux. "I don't" I replied. She asked why I'd been referred, so I went through the whole story again before returning to the waiting room and my daughter.

Twenty minutes later, a tall man in gown and pulled-down mask appeared and in a Russian or Eastern-block accent, called my name. I followed him in to a surgery. He was talking to me, but either I was mentally in another place, or his accent was too thick for me to comprehend. I sat on the trolley while he tried to find a suitable vein, (I think my vascular system had shrunk with fear)! He kept dropping things, so I asked jokingly, "Have you done this before?" he giggled. Now I was really starting to worry!

I laid down on my side, as instructed while he injected me with something saying, "you vil soon be very sleepy". Good, I thought! However... I seemed to be awake throughout the whole thing and remember them talking around me, discussing what was coming up on screen, while I gagged my way through it all. I remember them wheeling me into a little recovery ward, along with other women laying on their left sides, who were all happily snoring their heads off! I asked the nurse why I was awake. "Oh you've been awake all through it... some people are!" she said matter-of-factly. My throat was so very sore; I'm sure he'd used a broom handle!

My daughter was shown in and the nurse came back with a line drawing of what a stomach looks like and where they'd taken biopsies. At the bottom was a prescription. "Take this to your GP so that you can start taking it dear. It will help with the acid reflux." I replied groggily, "I don't have acid reflux". She smiled at my daughter and said I could go as soon as I could walk across the ward and back unaided.

The outcome? It seems I have ulcers, a sliding tear and a hernia. The biopsies were to test for Helocobacter Pylori, which my blood tests had highlighted, and was probably the cause. I am still waiting for the report to me and my GP and the possible and very necessary antibiotics for H.Pylori . Meanwhile I keep wondering how a tear can slide!

Different worries

2010-03-13T02:18:00.001-08:00

There's nothing like a health crisis with another beloved member of my family to take my mind off my own health concerns; namely... daughter suddenly losing vision in one eye after suffering continued sharp pain at the back of her head! Several visits to the JR hospital (which I'm becoming quite intimate with) and endless waiting on chairs in numerous clinics later, she and I leave for home, armed with several further appointments on a little yellow card. No-one can explain it, so my daughter continues to take a variety of painkillers and is a little upset that the laser eye op two years' ago has now reverted to a worse prescription than before. No, it has nothing to do with the laser op, they say.

Then mid-week my daughter is admitted to the Stroke ward of the JR as the headache worsens, her speech is affected and eyesight just as bad! She undergoes various tests including an MRI and told to expect a lumber puncture at some point.

Then last night while I rushed down to her house to look after the two boys, I had a phone call to say the MRI scan was clear, she'd refused the Lumber puncture and was on her way home. She has not suffered a stroke and they still have no answer for the prolonged loss of vision. So... in the next few weeks she will be undertaking more various tests as an outpatient, while I will be having an endoscopy this coming Wednesday.

I have discovered that since giving up wheat/gluten products completely, I have felt much better. It has now been confirmed that I do not have Haemochromatosis; my liver is perfectly fine, albeit with a small lesion that is benign and like a scar that has probably been there since birth. I do not have kidney or lung disease and I'm not diabetic. However, one of my previous blood tests has shown an anti-body to B12 and is being investigated further. I must say, that while some of the administration processes of the JR vary in efficacy; the thoroughness of most of the medical staff are pretty good!

As for the builders and the man from NHBC... the damage is cosmetic only therefore does not need a claim, and the builder, he who was bullish and brutish, has turned into a lamb; he's sort of apologised for his previous behaviour and has offered to repair the rendering free of charge.

Result!

Surreal conversations

2010-02-26T08:24:00.001-08:00

It's turned out to be a strange week... perhaps the moon is in conjunction with Uranus? No letter of appointment for the hospital after giving an armful of blood and an enduring an MRI scan; so I rang the clinic and asked Miss Efficiency (very politely) if I could expect notification soon regarding my next appointment. It was as if I'd unleashed the Gods down upon her..."How do I know what your doctor looked like?" But, I didn't ask! "Was she young with short fair hair?" she continued... "umm, can't remember, but I don't think her appearance really is the issue here..." I replied. "Did she tell you that you would have an appointment?" she shouted down the phone at me. "Yes, - I would get a letter asking me back to the clinic in three weeks' time... and that three weeks is up..." I didn't finish my sentence, she transferred me back to reception, whereupon I asked to speak to the secretary of the clinic's consultant. Answermachine! I left a polite, gentle message, not wishing to unleash the Gods again. I did get a response... a polite message saying my letter would be in the post... and an apology for not having received the letter by now. Result!

Then two days' ago I was driving along our narrow little lane, going slowly around the bend (ha), when a man in white van came straight at me at speed, I swerved into the hedge, narrowly escaping having a wrecked car. Boy, did I swear! I extricated my now scratched car out of the hedge (white van man didn't stop)... and went to the village shop (now housed in the local pub), and collected my paper, still shaking while relaying the incident to the ladies behind the counter. I drove back along my lane looking in all the driveways for the white van... no luck; he'd gone. I wanted to confront him, knowing full well I'd only get a mouthful in return.

And, just half an hour ago, the two builders whom I've been trying to get round here to look at the crumbling rendering on my new house, turned up. I opened the front door and about to say hello, when I had a tirade along the lines of: "It's Frost! Not our problem... you should have painted the rendering by now." "Hello" I replied. He continued, "We were only responsible for the first 2 years, and these houses were built 7 years' ago..." I interjected, "...no, five years and that's the date on the NHBC insurance certificate." He towered above me and shouted down, "No, 7 years!" By this time I was trembling a bit but determined not to show it. I said, "I don't want to argue with you, just tell me if you will give me a quote for the work and I shall contact NHBC." He calmed down a bit, and said, "yeah, we'll do the work... but it's your fault the rendering has come off." "How", I asked. "You should have had it painted, 'cos you live on an exposed site." I reminded him that my immediate neighbours had had their rendering painted two years' ago, and they are also pursuing a claim for cracked rendering, so clearly, painting it didn't prevent the problem. I stood back inside my porch at this point. He drew breath and I interjected again... "I shall get back to you after I've spoken to NHBC about this." I smiled and closed the door. I have just spoken to James at NHBC who is sending around an assessor and has assured me that painting the rendering is just cosmetic and that the rendering should be up to the job. Hey Ho... we shall see what happens!

Tonight I'm off to Art Club... someone very arty is coming to offer a critique of work... I don't think I shall put myself up for a critique yet! Not until the Moon disappears completely up Uranus!

Stately Garden in the Cotswolds

2010-02-10T01:54:00.001-08:00

Last summer my friends and I visited many National Trust properties as well as other grand houses open to the public. I took lots of photos and upon stumbling across one the other day, ... decided to try and paint it!

It started out as just a simple line and wash attempt... but I wanted to play with wet-in-wet and this is the result... a doorway to who knows what...

Yesterday I had another scan... an MRI this time. Still no firm diagnosis; the consultant was annoyed that the previous Ultrasound scan doc had presumed to diagnose Haemochromotosis without all tests being concluded. I suppose she's right, but I'm still left with no firm diagnosis yet and don't know what to eat or do in the meantime. I actually feel a lot better, although still have some aches and pains in the upper right abdomen region. Trouble is, while all this is still in the 'don't know' box, I can't seem to concentrate or plan anything for the future. I just want to get healthy again and start living life to the full. I've spent too much time grieving and am now ready to move on... seriously!

All that aside... I am a member of the local Arts Group, and have just looked at other members' art work...Wow! What a talented group they are. I have just lost all confidence in my own ability! Perhaps I should take up plumbing instead!!

Enough!

2010-01-14T02:28:00.001-08:00

Like most of the population, apart from Bournemouth who haven't had snow, I have now had enough!

I made my way to the John Radcliffe hospital in Oxford, skidding along my lane until I came to a road that was more drive able... joined the queues onto the ring road and stayed in nose to bumper traffic for an hour and a bit. Then came the trauma of trying to park the car at the JR with no electric parking signs working, cars abandoned all over the place, cars skidding into parked ones... in all another 35 minutes until I abandoned my car on a patch of snow-covered grass under a tree.

I entered the nearest door and then walked for another 15 minutes until I found the Radiology Department. I expected to wait another 30 minutes, but amazingly I was shown straight in and then began the ultrasound on my abdomen. In conclusion, and with phone calls to my GP and other departments, it seems my problem is Hemochromatosis (iron overload in the body) ... an inherited condition that if untreated at the early stages inevitably leads to Diabetes, Heart attack and or disease, Lung disease, Kidney disease or failure, Stroke and Liver failure. Not the news I wanted to hear. So now I have to see a specialist, will need an MRI scan to see what damage has occurred and will probably have to have blood taken from me on a very regular basis in order to try and remove the stored iron in my organs. Of course I looked it all up on the NHS website and I may now have a shortened lifespan as a result. It explains my brother's diabetes and my parents' and grandparents' early death from Heart disease and Stroke.

Of course, I've been doing all the wrong things for the past 9 months... due to feeling tired all the time, I increased my iron intake via supplements... wrong move! I've been eating all the wrong foods; salmon, liver, steak etc - all high in iron. I should drink more Tea (Tanning helps reduce iron intake); avoid red meat, shellfish and any sugary foods. I look pale, sometimes grey and am losing weight. I managed to get through to the busy outpatients' reception desk this morning... (too many fractures and no staff available), to try and bring the appointments forward, but no luck yet.

So now I have to think of my children and their children... the faulty gene is passed down... some are carriers, and some, like me will have this condition. Apparently, it is more common than doctors first thought and as many as one in one hundred people have this condition and remain undiagnosed. My iron overload has gone straight to my Liver and has formed clusters, one of which is just behind my Gall Bladder and is causing me pain. Ironically, (pardon the pun), I now hardly ever drink red wine, which along with tea, contains tannins that reduce iron intake. Not that I'm about to start - my Liver is too important for me to get it wrong again! I just wish that this condition had been picked up when I'd visited various GPs over the past three years.

Today I hope to get the car out of the garage and venture into the nearest town for a paper. That's if I can negotiate past the piled up snow by my gate and path... left there by my neighbour who has constantly been clearing his side of the driveway! If I had any energy I would clear my side.

Proper Snow

2010-01-06T02:31:00.000-08:00

Oxford radio have just announced that all hospitals are only operating an 'emergency only' policy... outpatients must remain 'out'. No chance of a scan today then?

I awoke to the dark, dull and silent atmosphere... no cars along the lane; no rain on the now blacked-out skylights and two cats sat either side of me, staring at me as if telepathically they were asking me to wake up and feed them. The ache just under my right ribcage worse this morning, but hey ho, I'm getting used to it now.

My car is safely tucked away in the garage, while my neighbour's car and large white van are covered in about eight inches of snow along with everything else for miles around. I watched parochial news featuring older people saying that this is nothing compared to the forties! Of course it isn't... we've all been told many times that things were better, worse, bigger, smaller or harder back then. But then, I really don't mind the snow! I have enough food to keep me going for several weeks and plenty of wood in the woodstore and candles in the cupboard. It's just that if the pain in my upper abdomen gets worse and I generally go downhill, it will have to be a helicopter job with a hoist!

As for the symptoms, perhaps anyone out there in the blogosphere can help out three so far, confused doctors?? I have an intolerance to wheat/gluten... maybe, and I've been told in the past that I have stress-related IBS. Recent illness began in early November with sudden attacks of feeling as if I was on fire, with outbreaks of sweat on body and head... no, not menopausal flushes! I've briefly had them in the past and it is a different kind of heatwave! I'm constantly tired, pale, worn out and I'm having mouth ulcers and the corners of my mouth become sore. So, I have increased my vitamin B, C and D and am eating all the right foods, including my five or seven a day!

My diagnosis? I think I have either a severe intolerance or allergy to wheat/gluten. I think my gall bladder is enlarged (and was confirmed by examination at Doc's). All blood and urine tests have ruled out any really bad nasties (or so the Doctors say). So I have now stopped eating and drinking anything that may have trace elements of wheat or gluten. This is so hard, as I've just discovered that the Cappucino coffee sachets that I have continued to drink, have wheat in them... no wonder I don't seem to be getting any better! However, I could have gall stones... anyone know what the symptoms are?

Thank you for listening to my boring symptoms. I hope everyone out there is healthy and happy - or will be for 2010. Best wishes for the year ahead.

Time flies... sometimes

2009-12-10T10:30:00.001-08:00

This was Pebble at approximately ten weeks... now he is over two years old and tall, long and weighs about 5 and a half kg. He gets along okay with Banjo who is well over 11 years old and they tolerate each other; sometimes they chase each other and Banjo will try and wash Pebble... for all of 30 seconds, when he dashes off or tries to rough and tumble with her. This results in some hissing from Banjo. They don't sleep together, but will lie alongside each other in front of the log fire and only when I am with them.

I don't know how Charlie is getting on in my daughter's household... I have been busy seeing GPs about some possible Gall Stone trouble! Not funny and very painful. Now I have to go for a scan. I'm so glad I have completed my Will!

When I looked back at the pictures of my two cats I realised just how quickly the last two years have gone by. It's now four years and three months since he died... sometimes it seems like yesterday - sometimes it seems a lifetime away. Time either stands still when you want it to move, or it flies when you forget to count the days.

Charlie

2009-11-19T14:16:00.001-08:00

Well, this is the latest picture of my daughter's new addition to the family... Charlie! About one year old, overfed, never been allowed to play and still trying to 'fit in' with a household of two adults, two boys and an existing male cat who every now and then, attacks him... it's a cat territorial thing!

He is, however, so very affectionate and loves to climb on my lap, and snuggle in to the crook of my arm, turn over and lie with his legs in the air, purring while I stroke him.

However, Charlie has a little habit that's causing my daughter to be annoyed... namely he pees in the hall instead of going outside. Now my daughter wanted to rub his nose in the pee, thinking this would deter him. I explained that you only usually do that to puppies, certainly not cats! It's a sign that he is completely 'lost' in a house with an existing male cat and is trying hard to establish himself... with pee.

It's a shame my feet are in the background! Along with a 'Burford Garden Centre' shopping bag!

Just like old times

2009-11-13T10:09:00.001-08:00

Before my lovely man became ill, part of my consultancy job with a Constabulary was to travel to different locations, interview, observe, gather information, evaluate then write a report and present the findings for different projects... a job I loved doing, because I met lots of interesting people and learnt a lot. So, now I find myself travelling to various villages where they've set up their own community shop; I interview, observe, gather information, evaluate, collate and report, ready to set up our own village shop... I love it! At last, I'm doing something useful and meeting lots of people in the process!

As a footnote to the sad ending of little Bubu (two posts earlier), my daughter has taken in another unwanted young cat called 'Charlie'. His owner didn't want him any more and deposited him at the Veterinary clinic where daughter Number four works. Charlie is short and round and very affectionate and unlike Bubu, is far from emaciated, but, he now has a new home and a family that loves him.

Reflections

2009-11-12T14:29:00.001-08:00

I really love Autumn and Spring... mostly Spring, because it heralds the start of something new, fresh, and light and green. Autumn will always remind me of the death of my lovely man... the golden light on the green lawn and the dahlias bobbing in the gentle breeze. It was his favourite time of the year, and the house he'd built years before had been called 'September Cottage'. How I long now for a new house of my own... a new beginning... apart and separate from all the trauma and grief of the past four years!

To that end, I have now decorated all the interior of the house... the house that conforms to all the disability regulations... I just have to repaint the outside... the postman told me the other day that 'the front door needs a coat of paint'... thank you Postie, but don't you have other pressing job-related issues to worry about?

I am on a Steering Group to try and establish a new village community shop and Post Office as the old one is closing down... the owner wants to retire somewhere 'oop north'. I am trying to help, but one half of me is already moving mind, body and soul, as well as house and home to another location... one that is away from neighbours who terrorise cats, away from umpteen covenants on the house that restrict me from just about everything, away from teenage boys who destroy my security lamps, pear tree and stream with their thoughtless antics.

I can't seem to get a job, no matter how hard I try and despite leaving out my date of birth. I have given up trying to find a 'nice, good' man still with his own teeth and hair... who needs em? I have now learnt to live without male company, male protection or attention and have resigned myself to the status quo.

Once Christmas is over with and the outside of the house is painted, I shall seek a valuation and start looking in earnest for another property that I can call my own... one without memories and one where I can feel safe, alone and can look after my cats, paint, decorate and garden landscape to my heart's content. I just need a bit of extra money....!

Upon reflection, what does any of it matter? I exist fairly well. It could be a whole lot worse!

KBO

2009-11-03T01:40:00.000-08:00

I'm now wearing my third temporary tooth veneer... long story...; have just had stitches out on a back molar that is being prepared for something 'big'; about to go back to the hairdresser - highlights were non-existent but cost me a lot; a skirt I'd ordered doesn't seem to appear from M&S...

While annoying, none of this is life-threatening, just a sad indictment of today's consumer society and lack of something... be it organisation skills, shop training, lack of listening skills?? Whatever the cause, I now come to expect these things whenever I venture out to buy something.

So, what joy to have my son-in-law come over immediately to fix my new surround-sound system that was buggered up somehow during last week's half term break!

Having watched the drama 'Into the Storm' recreating Churchill's time in office during WWII, I have decided to adopt one of his mantras: Keep Buggering On... KBO! So apt in this current climate. And 'Bugger' is a word I've always loved using... so quintessentially British!

KBO - everyone!

Three weeks

2009-11-01T06:58:00.001-08:00

To drive thirty miles to look after little BuBu is no hardship; nor is it any trouble to wash her, help her out into the garden where she obligingly 'goes'. Nor is it any hassle to stroke her under her emaciated chin, eliciting little purrs of delight while she lies on the sofa, struggling with the debilitating effects of malnutrition, neglect and abandonment. Each day she gains just a little more flesh on her fragile small bones and her spine no longer sticks out like a ridge of distant mountains.

Three weeks of warmth, food, and much love couldn't stop her body's slow disintegration into diabetes, complete blindness and deafness and a confused state of mind. On Tuesday morning, my daughter brought BuBu into bed with her where she lay across my daughter's neck and could feel her pulse and hence began to purr. BuBu could no longer keep down any food and could'nt seem to go to the loo any more. The Vet gave her verdict and hence her end. Little BuBu went into an enforced sleep... she was only about 18 months' old. In three short weeks, she had captured all our hearts.

I would really like to meet her former owner who left her flat and her kitten behind!

Classic

2009-10-20T02:43:00.001-07:00

I love classic cars and so, enjoyed a trip around the rally at Blenheim Park a little while ago. I browsed, ummed and aarghed and took lots of pics. I even found a Vauxhall Cresta... just like my Dad's!

The owners all sat with picnic hampers, flasks, small dogs, wives and most had an abundance of hair around their faces, (not the wives).

A bygone age with gorgeous cars and motor bikes. When it came to the bikers parading inside the arena, only a few turned up... most had gone for a 'walkabout' within the Palace grounds, much to the annoyance of the commentator.

I sat on a bench and ate my picnic, enjoying watching the world go by; kids having tantrums, dads getting frustrated with the kids; wives bored. Classic!

Real issues

2009-10-16T02:56:00.001-07:00

Despite recent disputes and arguments between two of my daughters, which has really saddened me; a little malnourished mite, abandoned by her owner has come into our lives. Her new name is Bubu; found staggering and hardly able to keep upright, outside my daughter's house, just a fragile bag of bones, almost completely blind and deaf, with back legs collapsing beneath her as she made one more attempt to get some food from anywhere she could.

One week later she is now rehoused with another daughter, is still partially blind and still deaf, is eating little and often the special food and vitamins my daughter and her husband are giving her. She can now walk a little better and yesterday, for the first time, her tail went in the air and she managed to purr in gratitude. She lives on the sofa and can find her way to the kitchen, bumping into a few items on the way.

I hope my daughters can see the bigger picture here... despite their arguments, there are creatures who are in dire circumstances that put other things into their rightful perspective.

Interviews and value systems

2009-09-01T14:54:00.001-07:00

In just ten days' time, it will be exactly four years since my lovely man departed this earthly existence for whatever place is next... (or not)! I keep wondering whether there are other non-worldly places our souls go to, or, when we die do we just cease to exist permanently?

I have read several articles over the years concerning young children's memories of past lives. Perhaps Buddhism is nearer to the truth of our existence than other religions? Maybe not.

Back to my own existence... today I went for an interview for the job of being a pottery painter... nothing creative about it, just daubing paint onto cut-out stencils in a very precise and prescribed way, sitting at a workstation for six hours each day, five days a week for near enough the minimum wage. Upon completion, I shook hands with the owner as he said a letter will go out to all candidates next week, short-listing to a few who will then be invited back to spend a day working at a workstation stencilling all day... whoopee... just for the experience and without pay. The successful candidate will then come back for a three month trial period. My gut instinct screams out that NO... I don't think this is for me!

I went home, aggressively dead-headed the roses and then spent the afternoon searching for teaching theories in preparation for another interview this Friday. I have to give a twenty minute, innovative micro-teach to a small group, pretending they are prospective teachers on a basic course. Then follows a question and answer session and interview. About an hour in total. The job?... a sessional tutor in teacher training.

Part of me says I should do this and get myself out of the house; bills need paying; and a mortgage will need paying off soon. I am also made aware (by one or two well-meaning folk) that I am not of retiring age; that I should be meeting people; and that I need a purpose. Yeah, yeah, yeah. However, in the past I embarked on unsuitable jobs that made me physically ill. I always vowed never to take a job again that went against my needs, wants and value system, nor just for the sake of it. I would rather go without food, give up the Gym and sell my car than be so unhappy in a job. I have done many jobs in the past (some not very nice) that paid for food, education and important things for my children. I no longer have dependants, which governs everything we do. There is only me and two cats... they can catch their own food if necessary. Now I answer only to myself.

So when Friday comes along, I shall again, listen to my gut instinct once I've delivered my micro teach and been questioned etc. Sometimes I wonder if I am now too affected by life's cruel events and therefore not willing to conform. I have developed a rebellious streak and don't like being told what to do. And this is why I would love my own business. As an aside; after reading a book about Cosmic Ordering, I wrote down my wish list and wished with all my heart... for days! It worked for Noel Edmunds, but doesn't seem to work for me! Ah well, back to Honey and Mumford's Learning Style Inventory!!!

Confused again

2009-08-26T05:36:00.001-07:00

As I took off my jacket and handed it to the small, delicate, very blonde and very young assistant, she said, "That's it sweetie..." as she helped me on with my black voluminous gown in preparation for a cut and blow-dry! And with her delicate, butterfly touch on my elbow, she guided me to the chair. I suppose that to her, I was ancient and needed treating delicately. She handed me a couple of 'OK' and 'Hello' magazines, and as soon as she'd gone off to aide another ancient over-40 woman, I got up and exchanged them for 'Country Living' and 'Prima'... proof that I was indeed ancient!

Then conversely, yesterday while walking around the Cotswold Wildlife Park with my two young grandsons, and asking for two ice-cream cones, I was addressed as 'Mum' by the young man serving. I am now suffering from a sort of identity crisis... what am I? Ancient grandmother or mother of two young boys? What's age got to do with anything? And, why are some people ill at ease with the different ages? Or, do they just not know that everyone, regardless of age, etc., etc., should be treated with equal respect? I don't much like being called 'Sweetie, darlin', love, m'duck or anything else by people I don't know. However, some might say that I have indeed reached the 'Grumpy Old Woman' stage! All this is proof I need a life!

Can't see the wood for the trees...

2009-08-19T14:21:00.001-07:00

I am tasked with the job of finding a suitable venue for my daughter's wedding next year! I am amazed at the inflexibility of some venues in that they will not, under any circumstances, provide a buffet-style wedding breakfast!! For Goodness sake... who is paying for this!!

I am google-eyed and websited out! Why can't they realise that the Bride's wishes are basically what provides their income? Today we visited three venues... the first - we were met by a lovely and very young lady who anticipated our every question and was absolutely great! Problem... no accommodation! Second vist to a small country hotel... the girl was just out of puberty and gave us a spiel but with no effort at encompassing the Bride's wishes... the third was a larger hotel and of a well-known brand who didn't mind doing whatever the bride wished. However, the rooms may not be entirely to my daughter's liking... and was the venue for a friends wedding. Difficult... and it brought back many memories for me because my lovely man and I stayed at the same hotel for her friends wedding back in 2004.

Venues vary in what they offer and some incur hidden charges for just the basics... like a cup of tea!

I am also feeling vulnerable because yet again, I will probably attend, as the bride's mother... alone and without a partner while my previous [Ex] will love that fact! My daughter said jokingly... maybe you will have a 27 year old muscled, tanned partner by then... we laughed, but I knew the reality was that I would still be alone.

Perhaps I could hire someone??

Meanwhile I continue on my websearch of suitable venues in Oxfordshire and maybe into Gloucestershire for somewhere where my lovely eldest daughter and her partner can be married in the manner to which they would like.

Kept in the dark and fed on s***

2009-08-14T04:13:00.000-07:00

Yep... for an excellent mushroom, keep it in the dark and feed it on excrement! That's how I feel my High Street dentist has treated me over the botched job of fitting a temporary veneer.

Why do I have to wait three weeks to have a new veneer fitted? Why do I have to go to Thame to let the technicians match up the shade to my existing teeth? Why did the temporary veneer turn black, thereby allowing me to frighten the horses and small children? Why did the subsequent visit to see another dentist (mine was away), result in her telling me that she thought the veneer was to blame, or I'd perhaps been using a certain brand of mouthwash, known for darkening teeth? Then, seeing my returning dentist, it seems my gum bled during the fitting of the temporary veneer, (due, by his own admission, to his clumsy extraction of the remains of the old one), and this caused the blackening under the veneer. So, off with the old, and on with a new one after being scraped and drilled and washed and dried. I'm now at home, with sore gum but a whiter tooth. My dentist doesn't do colour matches, nor tooth whitening, nor anything else out of the ordinary... he prefers to send his patients miles away for others to do the work. Could this be because he's not so hot in areas other than check-ups and extractions? His veneer work isn't so hot! When this treatment has finally finished I shall be seeking another Dentist.

At least he owned up to doing a bad job, unlike his young, straight out of the training school box, colleague who waffled her way through, did some poking around my blackened tooth saying she'd improved it, but when I asked for a mirror it was obvious she'd made the thing worse!

I feel better now, thank you blog friends for letting me vent steam. This is a mushroom unwilling to be kept in the dark and fed on shit!

More than one pebble on the beach

2009-08-03T10:23:00.001-07:00

I'm still waiting to have my veneer replaced... hopefully soon so that I can smile with confidence once more... or at least give the impression I'm confident and 'ok'!

While waiting for whatever fate has in store, I have my granddaughter staying with me, and so, off to the Cinema to see the latest Harry Potter film ... which confused me, but delighted her; off to the local historical Manor Farm where she learnt how to make lace, split logs (the old-fashioned way) and make and dress dolly pegs. And, tomorrow we go to a Pottery shop where she will decorate a pot and have it 'fired' in a kiln. It's good to have someone around the house who is good company and who is fond of uttering things like, "Nana, I've put up the Aerosol"... she meant the Parasol! Yep, we had one day of reasonable sunshine.

While off out, down the lane in my car, I saw 'little amorous man' from the Gym. He was painting the outside of a house down the lane... my lane! Why does he keep turning up like a bad penny? He smiled and waved enthusiastically as I drove past. I smiled without showing my teeth! Then I thought, 'should've shown my chipped tooth; it may have put him off me for life...' which is, after all, what I want! Too late, he now knows I live somewhere along the lane. The time is coming soon when I shall have to tell him politely to bugger off.

On the road to ...?

2009-07-25T14:43:00.001-07:00

I never knew just how long the road is to happiness! I'd be happy to know that my road led somewhere, or at least, hoped it would be as entertaining as the roads that Bob Hope, Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour took, all those years ago. Me? Haven't a bloody clue!

Today I went off in my car to Hughenden Manor just north of High Wycombe... the house of former Prime Minister, Benjamin D'israeli. I did the House tour... all one hour and a half of it... and learnt new things about this special man, all of which surprised me. He was a poor man's hero who had to endure endless taunts about his judaisism. Nevertheless, he was adored by Queen Victoria who visited his home two days after his funeral and insisted that a bouquet of china primroses was entombed with him.

I had thought to venture out to Oxford tonight... to buy a ticket to hear the 19 piece band, Blakes Heaven, at Oxford Castle. I phoned my daughter to see if she wanted to go, but she had had a hectic day at work and declined. Instead, I sat and watched a DVD... as usual, thinking that my life had come to a juddering halt. How I miss going out with someone close. I miss evening walks, talks and outings to Pubs; I miss talking to someone, linking my arm with someone and sharing a joke with someone. I think my life is on hold, paused, waiting for something... better to think that than be a complete pessimist and think that my life is over.

My horoscope says I am on the brink of a new life... all I can say is that it's a bloody big, long and wide brink!

Perhaps tomorrow will bring something new...

Up the garden path

2009-07-19T07:36:00.001-07:00

More money needed! My front tooth veneer happened to split... my fault... I was trying to break cheap selotape with my teeth while in a hurry to wrap up my grandson's birthday present. Later when I discovered the damaged veneer, I looked everywhere for the piece of veneer in the hope it could be stuck back on... but I think it went with the present to the grandson and is now at the refuse tip stuck to the wrapping.

The dentist gave me a quote for a new veneer... £379!! Or, I could opt for a crown, he said. Nope, can't do that... the tooth isn't strong enough having undergone an Apesectomy years' ago... No, I don't know what an Apesectomy is either, just that it was painful and bears no relation to looking like an Ape, hmmm, well I don't think so...

Then there's the bill for the recent Heating problem and the bill for the recent car MOT... then there's the increased Electricity bill... how?? When I use tea-lights, hardly use the cooker or hob, keep the TV switched off and everything else switched off when not in use!!

I've developed a good coping mechanism for pushing all these things away... I go for a swim and then go out in my garden. I love brushing against the lavender to get to my front door. The Postman doesn't like it very much... was that a Machete I saw him with yesterday?

A Day out for an EGG

2009-07-16T14:51:00.001-07:00

It seems we group of ex-green gymmers now have the name 'EGGS'... a good bunch... good eggs... adventurous and game for anything!

Yesterday, we went to Broughton Castle in north Oxfordshire. It being one of the few ancestral homes that still remains in the hands of the original family... Sele and Sayte. It had a really good, still lived-in feel about it, having escaped the trappings of that wonderful organisation; The National Trust.

Pictures of Oliver Cromwell adorned the walls, as did pictures of Queen Ann and others. Although the family sided with Cromwell, they quickly accepted the return of Charles II (as one would in difficult times). Original plated armour, leather buckets, swords, pikes and artefacts adorn the Castle and as I gazed out of this window before taking the picture, I could imagine the Cromwellian soldiers riding down the green sloping pasture land towards the Castle. I really wish, (along with thousands of others) that I could be an invisible time traveller. Ah... if only I could afford to enrol on an archaeology course! I just love digging in the dirt!

One of our team didn't come with us... she had been in contact with someone with Swine Flu and was beginning to develop symptoms...

I think I really must get my Will sorted!

Death from Application forms

2009-07-14T03:06:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, I spent all the daylight hours trying to complete an online application form for a college lecturer's post at a college many, many miles away! Today, I ask why?

I lost the will to live several times throughout the day. No I can't remember the exact start and end dates of jobs ten years' ago. No, I don't have the post code of Southampton University; No, I didn't work between Dec 04 and now because it's no-one else's bloody business!

I came out of the web page, and was then sent a special code by email for me to resume the application form later! Neck and back aching from a badly positioned screen and chair, I sipped my extra strong coffee and asked myself out loud, "Do I really want to go back to being a Lecturer?" In my heart I heard a resounding 'No'. "Do I want to earn some money?" 'Yes'! So, what can I do to earn some money??

I asked two of my daughters to tell me honestly what my qualities and skills were - in their opinion - and told them not to hold back... even the negative thoughts would be good for me! Their responses surprised me; I was in tears... real, emotive tears. It was a defining moment... I had no idea they viewed me in the way they did!

There were no negatives... I seem to have qualities and skills I hadn't realised. Has it helped me decide what I want to do? No. I'm even more confused now.

I think this must be my second mid-life crises... and what I really must get my head around is the fact that it's okay to have these times, and that it's okay not to work, and it's okay to just potter around and do whatever my bank balance allows me to do.

Sod the application form... I'd rather take photos of my Hollyhocks!

Help for Heroes... indeed, more help needed!

2009-07-13T16:28:00.001-07:00

It was a damp but humid Saturday evening when a few of us rallied round and set up food and refreshments in the Woodstock Town Hall ready for the group of 20 or so Royal Engineers who were cycling on a seven-seater contraption in order to raise money for a rehabilitation unit for their injured comrades.

No Mayor..., and no deputy Mayor... where were they? A few Town Councillors and several 'old' soldiers and their wives. I think there could have been a lot more support for such self-sacrificing men...

My daughter, granddaughter and myself served wine to all who required it. Perhaps due to the damp weather, or otherwise, there was not the huge welcome the men of the Royal Engineers deserved. Woodstock, a wealthy Cotswold town not far from Oxford, remained sleepily silent except for the excellent work of a few councillors and helpers who thoughtfully made an effort!

I sat in the Mayor's chair within the ancient Town Hall and was asked by someone (not a councillor) if I'd be interested in running for Mayor next year... No, I don't live in Woodstock... I was only helping out a friend for the evening! Methinks Woodstock needs to have a talk to some of its current Councillors... and who knows... maybe a new Mayor would bring fresh thoughts?!

What would I know!!

Some you win, some you lose.

2009-07-07T14:26:00.001-07:00

There's nothing like suddenly coming to the rescue of a wild creature to take your mind off your lonely little existence!

I awoke two mornings ago thinking that the birds were unusually loud this morning! As I reached the kitchen, rubbing my eyes and reaching for the kettle, there it was again, the loud chirp, chirp, chirp of a bird very close by! Yep, one of the cats had brought in a baby bird that was yelling its head off from behind my TV. I threw a tea-towel over it as it hopped over to the sofa and took it outside so that it's mum could do her bit and feed it. For three long hours I watched from behind the curtains, with the window ajar, listening to the chirp, chirp, chirp; not one bird replied or went near the little thing. He had almost all his feathers, except for the tail, so could hop, skip and flutter, but not fly properly. I got dressed and went outside, again with the tea-towel, brought him in, put him in a box with the tea-towel that he now thought of as his, and then dug up some worms and fed him. I spent nearly all day digging over my dry soil, trying to find worms and small slugs. By evening I was knackered, so at 8.30 pm drew the curtains in his room, said 'night, night' and was in bed by nine. I awoke at 5.30 am, dressed and rushed out to get some more worms, remembering that 'the early bird gets the worm'. As I rushed in with them in a pot, I thought that I'd not heard his chirping and thought perhaps he'd died. Sure enough, he was lying on his back with stiff little legs in the air! I'd failed!

Then this morning I awoke to find my elderly cat Banjo holding vigil next to the TV stand. Oh not again! There was a tiny mouse huddled in the corner. Mice I can deal with! I fetched the humane mouse trap, put in some low-fat Edam cheese, a few broken crackers (low fat and gluten free), and a few chopped nuts. Removing the cat from the room I went to have breakfast. Sure enough, within just minutes the mouse was in the trap munching away. At last, success! I released the little creature down the lane and under a hedge... with the cheese etc. It felt good to have saved a creature. I just hope that I wasn't responsible for the demise of the baby bird... perhaps I overfed it? Perhaps they were the wrong sort of worms? Or, perhaps it had injuries that I didn't know about?

Some you win... and some you lose. I did my best, but still feel that I've failed.

Stir Crazy

2009-07-02T08:59:00.001-07:00

I've got through the first three years which have been at times, bloody and soul-destroying, leaving me drained and exhausted after many hours of crying. I turned a corner a few months ago... one of many corners, there being more than four sides to grief. I began to live again, breathe again and look at my little surrounding world with renewed eyes and an awakening mind, packing away the actress in me that has fooled so many for so long.

Then, along came two virus's and various secondary infections, which are still present and leaving me tired. Whether it's the illnesses, or time of year, or the fact that as an eternal optimist, it's time for another reality check to put me back in my place and make me realise that my little life is not actually going anywhere!

I've tried Jive classes, art classes, volunteering and a Gym. I've been chatted up by various little men, some, probably all, married. Perhaps I'm trying too hard and should just accept that this is how it is now, and it won't get much better! I've got a home, a car and two cats. I have a few friends and lovely daughters... what else is there? It's just that I still feel that something is missing! Maybe I shall always feel that something is missing! I should just stop still and stop wanting change!

Bereavement experts would've probably said this is yet another stage... And, I ask, just how many more sodding stages can there be??

The latest watercolour effort was sat on by Banjo my cat while I'd left it out to dry. I think she has improved it!

Yobs and Low Life galore!

2009-06-15T02:14:00.001-07:00

Do I attract these amoebic forms of life towards me? I'm talking about being shouted abuse at by some passing cyclists... two youths carrying gardening tools (makes a change from knives), who just launched into a tirade of language at me, for no reason. Luckily I was in my car, and for a moment, almost veered over as they cycled toward me, which would certainly not have killed them... but they would have ended up in the muddy stream.

I asked at the Post Office if two boys, with bikes and gardening tools had called in... and yes, they had, and yes, everyone knew their names, and their parents who all live unhappily in this little village.

An elderly man said his allotment had been vandalised by the same two boys, losing him weeks, months of hard graft and produce.

Another elderly woman said they had approached her as she was walking to the shop and shouted abuse in her face, calling all sorts of derogatory names... you can imagine! I asked if anyone had reported them... and all shook their heads... "Naw, not worth it... nothing will get done!" And I thought, what a sad indictment of the state of our society and it's faith in our law enforcement.

So much for the village getting so upset about the Travellers' camp a mile away... I think the villagers ought to sort out their own problems!

Now where did I put my father's air gun???

PS. Hogday... can I borrow your mate - he with the balaclava and big muscles? No, must not go down the vigilante route... who knows where it would end??

Wisley Magic

2009-06-10T10:45:00.001-07:00

A great day at Wisley... but what is the magnificent growth in the picture I hear you ask... I had to look twice and for a moment it reminded me of something that I couldn't quite put my finger on!! Yes, a Banana! It was very hot and humid in the newly built glass house and I had to take off my coat and take a few deep breaths of the humid air in the hope that my chest would improve!

Five ladies came away laden with goodies from the plant shop... it's an age thing... like a drug addiction!

Next week it's off to another place... deep in the Cotswolds, with Tea and Cakes and yes, more much needed middle-aged supplies of drugs, er plants, to buy. It's a poor substitute for an active sex life... but still brings a smile to my face!

Not more poppies!?

2009-06-09T11:27:00.001-07:00

It's good to get my brushes out again... and I'm really pleased with this latest Poppy; taken from my garden this afternoon, plonked in a vase and it seemed to go right from the moment I started painting. Some days are like that... everything seems to slot into place like a jigsaw.

I've been ill for weeks and having completed a course of Antibiotics (at last), I'm beginning to regain my energy and sense of humour. So, we (the ex-Green Gymmers) are off to RHS Wisley tomorrow for the day. The forecast is lots of rain and heavy cloud, so I've water-proofed my not-so-waterproof jacket and will just grin and bear the weather.

I have to do something to cheer myself up now that Gordon isn't going, and the latest winner of Apprentice was not my favourite, and that Saralan is to be the new Business or Enterprise Tzar for Labour!!! Perhaps there should be a 'Big Brother' series just for Parliamentary Ministers, or in Saralan's case, 'I'm a Celebrity... get me in there'! It's another way for the poor darlings to get extra cash on the side!

As for Sarkosy's glaring rudeness in not inviting the Queen to the D-Day celebrations, and Brown's incompetence and evident self-promoting mentality... are big Egos on the increase? Or am I turning into a Grumpy Old Woman?

Back to the Easel and Brian Adams...

Where has my stamina gone?

2009-06-01T02:07:00.001-07:00

I used to bake two days a week, do the daily mountain of washing, cleaning, shopping, ironing, playing and feeding, then help with the homework before finally washing up the evening meal dishes and getting all four daughters washed and into bed. For many years it seemed that I was either pregnant, breastfeeding or pushing prams and pushchairs up and down the steep hills of Plymouth. I weighed just under 9 stone, was never fat, always sunkissed from being in the garden, by the beach or in parks with the girls. I ate well, slept well and the days whizzed by.

Now, having seen lots of old photos, I wonder where my stamina has gone as I recover from another half-term of child minding. I am exhausted and have caught yet another virus and will be seeing the Doc in an hour. I need an injection of stamina... any suggestions?

Paint the Hall, or paint poppies?

2009-05-18T09:11:00.001-07:00

It was no contest really! The Hall, Landing and Stairs are the last of the indoor DIY projects, but, despite the rain storms, I just couldn't find the energy to get out the Crown 'Heaven' Matt Emulsion... so took photos of wet poppies and painted them instead. I need to practice, practice and practice, having had a break of many weeks since painting. It's good to get back in the saddle, so to speak! Come to think of it, there are other 'saddles' I'd like to get back into, given the chance! For instance; going out to work and meeting people; getting dressed up in high heels; going to the cinema with someone; booking a holiday; have a conversation with someone who doesn't meow back... just a few of the saddles I think about now and then.

The Hall will have to wait until I'm in the mood... or, perhaps I could paint poppies on the walls?

Lost in a bluebell wood

2009-05-17T04:47:00.001-07:00

Oh to be lost in a bluebell wood and away from the tawdry revelations of Parliamentary Ministers and their fraudulent activities. I read today that one minister is annoyed that the real work of parliamentarians is on hold because of these revelations! Ughh... is it me? Or does anyone else think that Fraud is serious enough to warrant a hold on proceedings? As Boris has commented this week: 'I think this is a case for Plod to be called in.' Too true!

Then there are the 'whistle-blowers' themselves who upon revealing the expenses sham to the papers, wanted upwards of £300,000 for the information! Everyone's at it!

Today we read that the Queen is not amused and wants Brown to 'sort it'. I think Ma'am, that you've asked the wrong man. This is clearly a case for Doctor Who or Captain Jack... or Joanna Lumley.

Bring on an election - that's what I say!

Travelling by car

2009-04-26T15:01:00.001-07:00

It's bloody hard... driving long hours on busy roads... namely the M1 at peak times. However, the journey wasn't too bad and a couple of stops on the way to wee and have a caffeine intake, all helped.

But, on arrival, having phoned from Nottingham services to say that I'd be just an hour and a bit, my friend was unexpectedly out upon my arrival. I found my mobile phone and sent a text saying 'I'm at your front door, I need a pee!' She had fallen asleep in the park nearby! I know she works hard and long at her very demanding job, and she is a very good friend, as too her husband who was also a good friend to my lovely man.

The following day we had a great time at the Harrogate Flower Show. I bought some fancy toadstools made out of copper; a frog and a snail, along with a rose. More was spent than I wanted, but then again, it was a trip with good friends and a wonderful day out. While wandering through one of the large marquees, I saw a collection of paintings; the artist sat at her desk, explaining to someone that she uses a mixture of gouache and watercolour. The effect was stunning! Mainly large poppy heads in different studies and colours... I felt inspired to try it out myself when I return home.

The journey back was okay, no real traffic problems and a stop at the Leicester Forest Services meant that I could make the whole journey without any major mishap. My cats really missed me and the garden seemed to have grown in just two days!

I really wish my friends lived nearer. A hundred and ninety miles away is too far! They are really good friends and I love them to bits! When life was really difficult for my lovely man and I, they were there for us. When so-called family members were giving us hassle and grief, our friends were there for us. Through all the crap from so-called family and from the work environment, our good friends were there for us. Now, after his untimely, sudden and premature death, if only we lived nearer to each other... we could meet more often and have more good days out. Life can be so complicated sometimes! In fact, life is too bloody short!! And even though I've survived three and a half years without him, I still don't know why I am on this planet. Life is too short to be fannying around. We only have one life! So why am I here? Perhaps I'm saying, what can I do to make a contribution to the World...

Meanwhile, I think I've caught a cold!

Off on a Trip

2009-04-22T09:21:00.000-07:00

Off oop north for a short visit to friends, then back to either finish decorating the Hall, Landing and Stairs (no mean job); or forget that and start watercolour painting again; or cut back the overhanging bramble (supposed to be Beech) hedge that belongs to my neighbours; or concentrate on researching for a job interview that's coming up in a couple of weeks.

I keep asking myself how many hours a week could I work without compromising my new-found optimism and feel-good mood? I really need the money, but have decided not to work full time now and will hold out for part-time work. Most of my decisions until now have revolved around what to have for dinner; shall I wash the car; shall I go for a swim tonight; or does that Apple sapling need moving... I may be past giving anything to society... I may not be up to it... or, I've forgotten how to make proper decisions. Heaven help any students I may teach!

It's one of those 'Fate' times again!

A cracking day Gromit!

2009-04-18T14:04:00.001-07:00

It's as if a dark cloud has moved away... I have felt the Spring air within my veins, filling me with optimism. Be careful girl, being forever an Optimist usually means being continually disappointed! But... something is happening to move me forward. It must be coming from within and heralds the start of yet another phase, or service station along the highway of recovering grief. I went for a long swim last night; the first time in two weeks after seeing and looking after various family over Easter. Whether it's because I look happier, walk straighter, smile more or just because I'm becoming more scatty - I received a few smiles and hello's from people I hardly know. One big man turned around and gave me a smile, as I turned around to have a second look! It's funny how Spring affects us all!

Today I went into Oxford to visit an Art Exhibition of local artists, (my ex-art tutor being one of the (pardon the phrase), exhibitionists. Most exhibits were not to my taste, but all were on sale for around £350 a piece. Not bad. However, all exhibitors belong to the prestigious Oxford Art Society, and to become a member is no easy task.

I leisurely browsed around the shops in a happy, detached frame of mind, as only a single person can do, not having to worry about the evening meal, school shoes or making the beds. I then strolled through alleyways looking for a place to eat lunch... (a special treat to myself to mark the change in my persona and mental state). All looked tacky, or full or just not with a menu for my mood. I ended up at 'Browns' in St Giles; a place my dearly departed had first taken me to lunch thirteen years' ago. I had a great table at the back and a very attentive waiter called John who fetched me a newspaper, water, wine and tempted me to try the day's special - Sea bream. It was all so good and delicious. I left, not feeling sad at being there on my own without my lovely man, but at peace.

This evening I sat on the garden swing with my cat as the sun went down. If all my days from now on are this good, then I shall be a lucky lady.

Easter magic

2009-04-16T10:02:00.001-07:00

The grounds at Blenheim Palace are exceptional, and this year has received an RHS award. It's good to know that the magical designs of Lancelot (Capability) Brown have been preserved and enhanced after all these years by the various Dukes of Marlborough. Our favourite spot was a bench in the Secret Garden, watching the babbling brook speed by as we ate our picnic. We'd already been inside the Palace twice; done the guided Tour, then the Churchill exhibition, and then the 'Untold Story'. All good stuff! A second visit on Easter Weekend meant we could walk around the whole Park and Pleasure gardens. I was beginning to think I was getting really old by enjoying country houses and parks, but my twelve-year old granddaughter loved it too!

What's really good this year is the fact that Spring seems to be a 'proper' Spring - sunshine and showers! I'm more like my 'old' self this year... not so much deep mournful thinking. I'm carrying my grief better... more like an unobtrusive back-pack than a big heavy suitcase. I seem to be smiling more, listening more and finding amusement in silly things! Then again, it could be premature dementia creeping in.

What the hell!

2009-04-01T14:52:00.001-07:00

I've decided to stick with 'wet on wet' - it gives a much better finish... surreal, ethereal, and just magical! I no longer give a damn about what art tutors say... my style is my style... so there!

Having spent the last three weeks in agony with yet another slipped disc... the same disc that keeps slipping out of position, and spending most of my time flat on my back on the living room floor, I've decided that I don't give a flying fart what others think I should or should not be painting, doing, thinking or whatever. This representation is the latest in my final art class offerings. I shall now proceed with my own style and format and no longer spend a lot of money on art classes that don't agree with me!

Upon recovering from back ache, (in the extreme), I have spent today walking from Stonesfield to the Roman Villa remains and back again with fellow 'Militant Tendency' friends who, like me belonged to a well-known organisation called the Green Gym' who didn't deal with a bully and didn't acknowledge us or back us up when we needed it. We are now an independent good group of women who have found a way of enjoying weekly outings together, having lunches, picnics and get-to-gethers without spending too much money, yet having a ball together!

We had our picnic, on a bench, overlooking a Roman Villa that was built in year 4 AD for a very important Roman Aristocrat. The views and setting were spectacular. The Roman invaders certainly picked the best spots. The lambs were bleating for their mothers in the neighbouring pastures; the blue sky was interspersed with cotton wool balls of clouds and the gentle breeze was warm across our faces as we ate. I could almost feel the presence of a Roman woman walking by.

I really must start painting from real life settings... if only I had the confidence!

A swinging time on Mothers' day

2009-03-25T15:42:00.001-07:00

I'd planned for everyone (all my daughters and various partners) to help move my garden swing when they all arrived on Mothers' Day weekend. Having been a Management Development person in the past, I knew that tasks were needed to bring together my four lovely daughters after 16 years of animosity. Just like teambuilding, it worked! The swing was moved, but not without difficulty, trellis' were put up on walls and paving slabs laid, while I hobbled around with a healing slipped disc. All my grandchildren ran around at the same time and all of us contributed to the big family meal. It was a success! And at no point was anyone sent to their room for being naughty! Not even me!

Having been laid low, or flat, with a slipped disc for the last fortnight, it was good to be upright and moving again, albeit painfully. Lots of photos were taken, champagne was opened and there were many funny moments. Only one or two awkward moments when a sibling-like remark could've sparked off World War Three. Perhaps siblings always remain so... perhaps there is a constant need for one-upmanship among siblings? Especially among four very attractive and competitive daughters.

Sixteen years has been a long time in waiting. Pity my lovely man wasn't here with me for this momentous occasion.

Even with my daughters here, I still felt lonely. When they all left, I sat on my swing, a G&T in one hand, a cat by my side, (gripping on for dear life as I swung to and fro), and a sun setting in a clear blue sky. A good day.

A matter of perspective

2009-03-03T14:37:00.001-08:00

I really must enrol on a drawing course... it is apparent that I don't always get things in the right perspective, and as yet, I don't know the tricks of the trade. The tutor at tonight's art class came around us all, viewing our sketches before we began applying paint... he said mine was very well sketched. However, later, once I'd added a considerable amount of paint, he said I hadn't managed to get the lines in the right perspective. I couldn't help but think, why the hell didn't he tell me when he first came to assess my sketch... too bloody late now! I mustn't blame him, but the teacher in me shouts out that putting students on the right path straight away is everything! He also said my shadows were done differently to how he'd have done them. I used wet-on-wet, he would've used dry on dry! Personally I prefer wet rather than dry, every time!

Ah well, I must keep trying, and as Winston Churchill once said, 'when I die, I will spend the first million years painting, in the hope of getting to the bottom of it.'

Looking in vain

2009-02-26T12:42:00.001-08:00

I have browsed through pages and pages of houses for sale and not one matched up to the one I already have. There was one I liked... detached, Cotswold stone, village location, conservatory, large garden, three bedrooms etc., if only I had three quarters of a million pound! Oxfordshire and even the edge of the Cotswolds is far too pricey!

Funnily enough, the neighbours have suddenly become very quiet... perhaps they've realised at last that I am probably the best neighbour they've ever had... I don't mean to sound conceited, but I never complain, and when the subject of banging doors was brought up by my neighbour some months' ago, I didn't get arsey, but just smiled and agreed that they could be noisy at times, which was accepted with smiles and an apology. I may have to wait a while before moving, but I have decided that move I shall - one day! Meanwhile I shall keep looking for the ideal home for me and my cats.

I'm very restless at the moment and getting despondent that this is going to be another year the same as the last three! Jobless and lost. With no obvious purpose to my life, just a few pleasant hobbies and a few new female acquaintances. It's as if I'm waiting for something to happen. Maybe this is yet another stage in the long road of grief... being lost, as well as alone. Wanting to move on and do something with my life, but despite trying different avenues, getting nowhere. So, I shall decorate the spare bedroom... at least I'll be doing something!

Restless in West Oxfordshire

2009-02-25T14:35:00.001-08:00

I am thinking more and more about moving... finding a house that's every bit as good as the one I've got, but with a longer, more private garden. Somewhere detached without the continuous slamming of neighbours' doors; without the damage to my property by neighbours' teenage boys and their friends; the ability to park my car without manoeuvring around the parked cars of neighbours' friends and families' cars; and to be able to enjoy the privacy and tranquillity that comes with having one's own patch of land that is not overlooked. Am I asking too much? While I have a lovely home, I am not entirely happy here. What to do? It's a big decision and a costly one. The first step is to get my house valued and to look on the web to see what's available. The good part of all this is that I don't have to move.

Am I being Restless or Reckless?

Hiding and Lost, or maybe a senior moment?

2009-02-23T14:30:00.001-08:00

My cat thinks she is safe and invisible under the bare branches of the Kilmarnock Willow... a place she often escaped to last summer. I think it's because she's getting on a bit in cat years, and has started to have senior moments.

I too, hide when I can't face anyone, or can't be bothered to put on a happy smiley face to neighbours who don't understand my low moments. I hide indoors, put on my favourite music, get some incense burning, make myself a cappuccino and lately, paint something arty. When the back seizes up from sitting down too long, I put on Shania Twain and dance around the living room, doing various back-strengthening exercises while my cat looks at me as if I am having a senior moment.

Three and a half years down the line, I find my sense of humour has returned, albeit slightly more off-beat than I remember. When in London with daughters and grandchildren last week, one of the little treasures got lost in the Natural History museum. Instead of going into a panic, I found it highly amusing that the one child who always sticks to his mum like glue and never takes chances or risks, ended up getting lost somewhere between the great blue whale and the tourist shop. Not the response of a loving grandparent I hear you mutter. I suppose I knew that sooner or later he would be taken to wherever they gather lost children and someone over the tanoid system would call for his mother. I couldn't help but giggle on and off on the bus ride home to Oxford. It may have been another senior moment, or the fact that someone getting temporarily lost is not half as bad as losing someone permanently.

Continuing a theme...

2009-02-15T14:09:00.001-08:00

I sorted through lots of photos of my garden flowers, found some of poppies and painted a clutch of them for my latest offering. I still can't get my head around there being either very detailed watercolour artwork, or, as I've been told by both recent tutors, that not too much detail is to be used. Having googled 'watercolour art' several times, I am amazed at what comes back. They vary from fuzzy blended impressions to very fine detailed work depending on the style of the artist.

Knowing when to stop has always been a problem with me, whether it be gardening, shopping, talking, eating, sex or painting. Due to current finances, shopping and eating have been drastically reduced; gardening is out of bounds until the warmer weather; I have few people to talk to (hence the blog), so that just leaves sex and painting - one of which is totally off the menu.

For the forthcoming week I shall be caring for and entertaining various grandchildren and daughters leaving no time or energy for painting. I may not be blogging or painting for a while as I need to security protect my computer and hide all paints; batten down hatches, hide the cats and get the germalene and antiseptic wipes ready. Now I must think about what to do with them all that doesn't cost the earth.

A good screw

2009-02-13T01:34:00.001-08:00

Well, I eventually managed to screw in the new door knob with the aid of a replacement screw... all were exchanged without a hitch at the big DIY superstore on the outskirts of Oxford. All my knobs are now matching and none are loose. I feel much better.

The last garden design session was yesterday and I proudly presented my Base Plan to the tutor and had to apologise for the muddy paw prints across the carefully drawn dimensions. It was a really good short course that has inspired me to look for another course that will take me further into the mysteries of garden design and horticulture.

It's so strange to me that I've discovered pleasures and talents that I didn't know I had, and which are so very different to previous career paths taken. I think it must be true that we often only achieve a fraction of what we can really do in life, and that we often fall into a career that is not wholly suited to us.

The worrying part about all this is that time is running out. Can I still achieve some pleasurable milestones before I die? I suppose finding a good screw for my wardrobe door knob was a mini-achievement!

Knobs and Screws

2009-02-11T01:32:00.001-08:00

I know I'm not the world's best at doing DIY jobs around the house, but I think I'm better than some! I bought some lovely knobs for my wardrobe doors, which came with screws. Five screwed in well, one did not. Eventually the screw sheared off inside the door. I managed to remove it and the knob. Now I have to find the receipt and take it back... five miles' away! So I shall march up to the information desk and demand a knob with a decent screw!

As for Art class... the example here is a still life painted last night... not really as the tutor wanted it; he wanted lots of bright colour background and bigger and looser with no detail. Sorry mate, but I prefer my own style. Yes, I think I'm developing a style. All the other classmates thought my work really good, so I came away with a smile on my face for a change. However, I don't think I shall be Teacher's Pet.

Also some sad news... a phone message asking me to ring a distant cousin. Oh, oh... whenever that happens I know someone in the family has died. Yes, I was right. My cousin of 62 years died recently... quite quickly... cancer. That's all I know for the moment. Life is too f***ing short!

Cabin Fever

2009-02-08T04:38:00.002-08:00

I have tramped to and fro the snow for the last few days, to buy my paper and essentials from the little Post Office a mile away. I have hundreds of great pics to remind me of the magical wonder of snowy landscapes once the thaw sets in.

However, while adjusting my gloves outside the now busy and bustling shop - (full of neighbours I never knew I had who were snow-bound, despite most of them owning 4x4's), a few children - (schools closed), were playing nearby. One little girl wore a pink fluffy hat, she had big blue eyes, pink cheeks and red rosebud lips. Her blond curls were poking under her hat as she ran after two other children. What an angel, thought I... how cherubic and angelic looking against the backdrop of thick snow... in one defining moment my illusion was shattered; "Cum 'ere you fat smelly cow..." her voice trailed off as she scrambled ungainly further down the road trying to catch the others. Ah well, for a split second I was lost in my little world of perfection. Then, as I turned the corner by a not-so-reputable public house, a gang of teenage boys were having a snow-ball fight. I tentatively walked around them, deliberately not looking any of them in the eye, when a boy of about 12 came up to me with a handful of icy snow and with a smile on his face said, "Shall I?" I adopted my authoritative teacher's voice and said quickly, "No!" Then smiled, and ran as fast as my booted legs would go. He hurled the snowball at me but missed.

The roads remain icy; no snowploughs around here, and so I remain incarcerated and have now had enough and want to escape... go to the Gym, go to Garden Design class (cancelled), go to Art class (cancelled), go to latin dance class (cancelled). I am rapidly developing Cabin Fever, and don't like it very much.

Tinkering

2009-02-04T08:57:00.001-08:00

I had a great time last night... playing and tinkering with 'Resists'. Like a two year old at play school I experimented with masking fluid, vaseline, washing up liquid, crayons, credit cards, toothbrushes and various other media in order to create special effects within watercolour artwork. Two hours whizzed by. I had to scrub the desk at the end of the session so that the child who normally sits there during the school day doesn't get into trouble!

The tutor brought in one of his paintings, which I must say, was extremely good, and reinforced my faith in his ability. I am learning so much more this term and so glad I changed venue and course.

However, not wishing to use my credit card for special effects, I used my blood donor card instead... due to my not being able to donate blood any more. Apparently, I need it more than anyone else, having fainted several times in the past three years since my lovely man died. I have low blood pressure and a low heart rate, and whenever I'm stressed I tend to pass out... rather like a breed of goat found in Africa. If a passer by said 'Boo' to one of these goats, they'd keel over for a few seconds then get up again and continue grazing.

Now for some more stress-free painting.

Simple and effective

2009-01-28T14:13:00.001-08:00

After attending another art class, I've decided that the tutor's individual style doesn't really suit me. He has a very 'loose' style of a few flicked strokes, painting wet on dry, mostly. This is new to me... I much prefer 'wet on wet' for a more softer look. My shadows were not pale enough for his liking, so aiming to please, I re-wet the offending area and lifted out some colour with a piece of kitchen roll... much more to his liking! Nevertheless, I still haven't produced anything at the new art class that I think is suitable for posting here.

However the picture I have posted is an attempt at wet on dry and I think a child could've done better! The phrase "must try harder" comes to mind, although the sky looks reasonably okay. It's simple and effective... and that's all. There are no 'aargh... lovely' moments in this picture. I should just stick to skies.

Despite differences in style, the tutor is actually teaching and demonstrating different techniques, and next week, oh joy... we will be taking in such things as toothbrushes, credit cards... (no, we're not staying at a Travelodge) ... we will be attempting to create special effects on our artwork. Can't wait!

In pursuit of a new career, I trawled the web for Garden Design courses that give a qualification upon completion. One was upwards of £12,000 another was £5,000 and the cheapest was about £400. Tomorrow I shall ask the tutor of the short five week Adult Education course I'm currently attending for advice on alternatives.

There must be something simple and effective I can do to earn a small living?

Wet on Dry

2009-01-25T15:31:00.001-08:00

I still prefer skies! This example of 'Wet on Dry' isn't as good as I'd like... the buildings are a bit Dickensian, in other words the rooftops are all over the place. But the impression of reflection and misty evening sunlight is almost there!

At art class I attempted 'Wet on Wet' trying to copy the example of the teacher. Trouble is, I overworked the wet bit and ended up with 'backruns', which can look good in certain circumstances, but not on a still life of flowers. I was quite disheartened and went home with my bottom lip jutting out.

I've since practised at home and I'm still not adept at it. I bought another art book at a sale yesterday and oh joy... it seems there are no hard and fast rules or techniques... anything is acceptable and style is whatever the artist prefers. This makes me feel better. I must just develop my own style and stop trying to perfectly copy others.

My garden design course is going well... I've got great ideas for my patch of land; pity I have no money, strength or energy to make my plans a reality. When I eventually draw my plans to scale and incorporate a bit of watercolour - for effect; I shall post it for comments.

All at sea

2009-01-20T08:33:00.001-08:00

Why do I feel under pressure to get a job or do something worthwhile? No matter how many job agencies or college registers I sign up to and no matter how hard I try to apply for jobs in the local paper... nothing materialises! Do I trust in Fate? Is something waiting for me that I've yet to discover or stumble upon? It seems that I've been asking myself the same old questions for over a year now.

But if I analyse how I am currently feeling and thinking compared to two years' ago, I now know that I've needed this solitary confinement and retreat in order to come to terms with losing my lovely man and to get myself in a place whereby I can operate on all four cylinders again.

I've known others who have jumped into a relationship with the first person to offer a shoulder to cry on; I've known others to jump from one unsatisfactory situation to another... I'm not a jumper, more a cautious plodder. However, I think that the time is almost here for me to jump into something... probably the proverbial s*** heap!!

I'm looking for some divine inspiration to point me in the right direction... an island of opportunity; a step into a future of substance... I've had enough of being all at sea... time to do something...??? Any clues... anyone??

Confused

2009-01-18T14:15:00.000-08:00

It has taken me a couple of days to reinstate (hopefully) my toolbar (while creating a post) in order to upload photos and pics. I don't know what I've done... playing around again! Well, here goes.

It all went wrong when I was playing around with transliteration! I just wanted to see what my text looked like in Hindi. For some reason or other, while trying to get back to basic English, I clicked on something that deleted my toolbar. The only way I'm writing this blog is by editing the draft copy that went horribly wrong. This may become a case for the blog help center if this doesn't work! Meanwhile, in frustration I have scrubbed three large fitted carpets - on my hands and knees. What else is a lonely widow to do on a Sunday?

Today I did my Garden Design course homework and braved the elements to go out and measure my garden after spending a long time looking for the metal measuring tape that I knew I'd put somewhere safe. I found it in my bedside table drawer! I know. Why would I want a measuring tape next to my bed? I need to eat more blueberries and drink more coffee in order to ward off Alzheimers.

I had a surprise today when going into the recently 'held up by armed robbers' post office. As I waited to be served, in walked 'little man from the Jacuzzi', he of amourous notions who is also married, but still keeps trying to get my attention. "ello", he says. "What are you doing here?" says I. "I'm doing some decorating here." he replies. He then goes to the back of the post office where he is obviously doing some work. I can't seem to escape the little man. It was quite strange to see him fully clothed and wearing a woolly hat... up close and with his eyes level with my chest! It all seems to happen here in this remote little village, miles from the Gym and Pool where I usually bump into him!

At the moment my life seems a little surreal... if not confused!

New Art class

2009-01-14T05:59:00.001-08:00

Well, the new Art group at a Community school is a lot friendlier and livelier than the previous course I attended. The tutor is more 'hands on' too. All that said, my artwork during the evening class wasn't up to my personal expectations... I feel I could have done better. But then, the tutor did remark that my No 12 and 8 had lost their 'point'.

The finished picture will not be shown on my blog postings, instead, here's one I created earlier - (a practice in skies and distance). I've paid my course fees, so now I shall have to attend and just do my best. Meanwhile I shall try and create at least one a day in the hope that practice will make perfect, (as my piano teacher used to say).

Tomorrow, along with a friend, I am off to a Garden design course, taking a scale rule and a big pad of paper. I must resist the temptation to take along my watercolour paints too!

Update on the recent armed robbery at our secluded little post office... the gang have been caught; the leader having used his own car for the getaway, then crashed into another car before abandoning it. I just hope that the ladies subjected to the frightening ordeal will take advantage of the Victim Support Service they (hopefully) have been offered by the Police.

Past times

2009-01-13T14:41:00.001-08:00

I just love doing skies! I saw this one in my new Watercolour book and just had to have a go! I have seen skies like this many times and have just gazed and thought how great it would be to paint that sky!

I must dig out some of our old photos of sunsets taken in faraway places like Florida, Western California, North Cornwall and the Greek islands.

Tonight I joined, in haste, another Watercolour class in a different location... cheaper, friendlier and with a Tutor who actually demonstrates and explains techniques! Aren't I a lucky girl?

My lovely man and I used to go to Naples in West Florida and always we would go down to the beach to capture the marvellous and spectacular sunsets when dolphins would swim close to shore and the pier would be full of people watching for shark, tuna as well as the playful dolphins. Oh happy days. I never thought that those days would be so short lived.

So now I paint!

Blog Therapy

2009-01-11T05:59:00.001-08:00

The Mail on Sunday today has an article on 'blogging' and the therapeutic rewards it can bring. Some regard blogging as either a pastime for 'saddos' or a vehicle for self proclamation and ego-boosting. I never considered why I started to blog eighteen months' ago, only that it gave me an outlet to my grief.

Living out in the wilds of Oxfordshire, with no immediate friends to talk to, while struggling to get over the loss of my lovely man; writing to an invisible listener was (and still is) for me, therapy of the best kind. It is exactly like keeping a diary of thoughts, but with the added benefits of having like-minded or very kind people comment with useful or just kind words. Those of an insensitive nature think it's a way of just saying exactly what you like and getting away with it. No, no, no... it is (for me) replacing a very expensive therapist, who after all, just listens.

I didn't expect anyone to respond to my ramblings, yet I have made a few friends in the process who seem to understand where I'm coming from, or at least, keep me going with their kind comments. Only one person has upset me over my blog writing and luckily they are no longer able to contact me.

In short, thank you blogger friends for listening. Not all of us have such fulfilling lives as those who throw scorn at bloggers!

Frosty Fields

2009-01-10T07:30:00.001-08:00

My car said it was -3 degrees as I drove to the Post Office today, hoping that it was open after the armed robbery yesterday. Sure enough, the post mistress was serving concerned and inquiring customers, although no other ladies were working there today, neither was the Post Office cubicle open for business. I asked if she was okay and could I help in any way... but she was resolute, and grateful for supporting comments and offers.

I then went to the Gym for a good workout followed by a swim... (the water, showers and changing rooms are piping hot), before going out and about to take lots of photos of frosty fields. The reason? I would eventually like to know how to paint frost with watercolours, and to that end I've been trawling the web again for courses. Painting white frost on white paper is a talent beyond me! But I'd like to know how!

Tonight there is a full moon and there will be rain by tomorrow, hence catching the frosty pics before it's too late. I can do rain... in watercolours that is! I found out by accident when holding up the pad of a wet freshly painted sky. Most of my success at anything, is due to accident.

Roll on some happy accidents for 2009!

Village Life

2009-01-09T14:40:00.001-08:00

Nearly four years' ago, my husband wanted us to buy a house in a quiet and 'safe' area away from crime and vandalism... he'd spent over thirty years dealing with criminals of one sort or another, and being now disabled after a stroke felt all the more vulnerable.

I used to bring him out of the Nuffield hospital at Headington every weekend until he was eventually discharged in May 2005, by which time we had viewed and bought a house in a little hamlet, attached to a small ancient village that has just one post-office cum shop. He constantly insisted that all doors were locked, even though we lived in a quiet lane. He knew that if we had intruders, he was no longer physically able to defend our home, himself, or me. It was such a shift of thought for a man who had always been tall, able and strong.

When my lovely man died, I felt even more vulnerable, and consciously and continually locked all doors, including the garage door, shed door and car doors. When waiting at traffic junctions I would press the internal locking system of my car.

Today, I walked to the village Post Office to fetch my paper only to find the door shut and a few villagers mingling outside. I was told that an armed robbery had just taken place and that the van had sped off and the police were on their way. My immediate thoughts were with the few ladies and the Post Mistress, who have become my friends and who must be in an extreme state of shock. I left to walk home as the police arrived.

I also heard on the National news tonight of a Post Master's son being shot dead at a Post Office in Worcestershire; also, on local Oxford news it stated that a gang that had committed armed robberies in an area of east Oxford had now been caught.

It seems that even in quiet backwaters, or because of being quiet and secluded, our little shops and post offices are prime targets.

I can hear my husband saying, "Lock the doors and make sure the car is locked away in the garage, and don't bother getting a paper."

Cold and Quiet

2009-01-04T04:54:00.001-08:00

When I peeped around the Roman blind in my bedroom at seven thirty this morning to look outside, I first noticed the swathe of ice across every surface, but what grabbed me most was the quietness; no cars, no birdsong, no wind gusting across the open field and more noticeably, no banging doors from my immediate neighbours. They must be having a Sunday lie-in, thought I. The quiet was short-lived, as the neighbour's back door banged - as if on cue.

I have become used to their door-banging, but my Christmas visitors were not. What to do in these situations? I've already mentioned to my friendly neighbour, in passing, and lightly, with a smile, that their door banging did sometimes wake my visitors up, and was assured that they would try not to - bang, that is! But, somewhere along the path of daily life their assurances were forgotten. While I do not wish to fall out with my neighbours, especially over a trivial matter, I do wish they'd be a little more considerate when I have people staying. I know there's nothing wrong with their back door, as I've tested it out myself while cat-minding. I suppose some people just like to make sure the door bangs shut.

Elsewhere, outside the air is calm and still. It's on days like this I wish I could really paint well.

Going South

2008-12-18T01:39:00.001-08:00

I really enjoy painting skies, and am now getting good at fluffing up the edges of clouds to get rid of stark straight edges of white paper next to paint. Although I think I need to now work on figures... my person and dog look a little like something out of a children's story book.

I've just visited my daughter and granddaughter on the south coast... child-minding overnight. Despite living there for many years bringing up my four daughters, I now love getting onto the A34 at Winchester, putting my foot down and speeding (not literally) home to West Oxfordshire. I don't miss the vast conurbations or hectic road systems around Southampton, Portsmouth and Winchester. I long for the country roads and butter coloured stone of the little villages I've come to love. The one thing that I loved about being down south again, apart from seeing my lovely family that is, is the sound of sea gulls as we strolled through Chichester North Street. They were swooping and diving above us and their calls brought many memories of living by the sea.

I don't mind going south on regular visits, but I wouldn't want to live there again... not unless I could get a very nice cottage along the Dorset coast... yeah, right! Me and the rest of the population!

Back home I love my own bed and awake this morning looking around my bedroom, thinking how lucky I am. Lonely, but lucky!

Yet more artwork

2008-12-14T15:10:00.000-08:00

I find I enjoy painting snow scenes more and more... but the chances of having a real life snow scene to paint is pretty remote.

I think this one looks less like a 'paint by numbers' attempt, but what would I know?

I've never like Sundays since he died; being a day of the week in which other couples and families 'do' things. I listen to my neighbours banging their back door, starting up their car with boys, going in and out of the gate and opening and shutting the garage door. Lots of activity and interaction in contrast to my little quiet life. So, I went off to the Gym to swim and lose myself in the pool where I concentrate on achieving more powerful lengths. Not to gain muscle or lean tissue, but just for something to achieve.

I have got into the habit of then sitting in the little food bar, drinking a skinny cappuccino while reading my Sunday newspaper. Again, it's to make me feel part of something. People mingle, come and go, chat and wait for partners to emerge from the changing rooms, while others just sit and read the papers - like me. This week I found only 62 pence in my purse, so when the girl behind the bar, (my dance partner of the last few weeks), happened to ask if I wanted my usual coffee, I had to say that I was broke. I chatted to her for a while, asking how she was and how were her children etc., and she seemed happy to chat back despite suffering with a bad cold. A while later, I was reading my paper at a little table, when she approached carrying a coffee. She coughed, looked around and said, "sorry it's been so long in coming." She smiled and put the coffee on the table. It was such a nice thing to do and filled my heart.

It's the little things that give me such pleasure and make me aware that there are good people around after all. It made me feel visible, warm and fluffy. She is an angel.

More artwork

2008-12-10T02:21:00.001-08:00

I think I'm getting the 'hang' of this now! I attempted this scene - taken from my beginners watercolour book, (Alwyn Crawshaw, Collins Press). I did it in a couple of hours, taking a break midway to make a cup of tea while the mountains and sky dried. That was when Pebble decided to walk across it. His paw prints can still be seen despite my repair work.

I took it into Art class yesterday evening to lots of applause from classmates, however, the teacher thought it looked a bit like 'paint by numbers'.

During the evening I managed two more snow scenes, trying not to make them look as though they were 'paint by numbers', while the teacher went in and out of the classroom more times than a fiddler's elbow. At the end of the session she handed us a piece of A5 pink paper to write down our thoughts on the course. She also told us that the continuation course in January would be another Beginners' course and that she would show us a few more techniques while going through the whole syllabus again. Others were writing out their cheques while I looked on incredulously. Am I the only one to think that this was another College attempt to get 'bums on seats', never mind the level of students?

Before leaving the class for good, I crammed as much onto my small 'course evaluation' piece of paper as was possible, trying to be constructive rather than destructive. To think I used to be the Training Evaluator for a large organisation, designing methodologies for evaluation, review and design of courses! It all seems such a long time ago now, and these recent experiences have made me feel as though I have never existed.

Despite the pleas of my art colleagues, I think I shall pass on signing up for January. I shall look around for another Art class with hopefully, a teacher that has a bit more nouse and who can steer me away from 'paint by numbers'!

More paintings to follow...

A hint of spring

2008-12-08T13:55:00.001-08:00

At last week's art class I had to bring in a 'still life' to paint. I grabbed a small pot of miniature daffodils that a kind friend had given me, in the hope that I could do them justice. I surprised myself and probably the teacher too. I am now 'getting it', that is the concept of watercolour painting. Tomorrow is the last class of the beginners' course. Now... do I continue on to the Intermediate level? One or two class mates want me too, so that we can learn together. We have learnt how to drag information out of the teacher... so, why not? I just have to find the money for another ten week course.

As for hearing from the charitable organisation as to the results of their second investigation... today I received a second copy of my Leadership skills qualification. Am I the only one to see the irony of it all? There is no letter, no word, no email or phone call. At least the organisation is constant in its lack of communication.

I will be having a daughter and granddaughter to stay for Christmas after all. No lonely Christmas for me yet, though no doubt, it will happen at some point during the remainder of my lifetime.

Tonight, little amorous man in the jacuzzi (wife absent), asked me if my dancing class (run by the Gym for Children in Need), was any good. 'Yes... really good.' I replied. I went on to describe how we all attempted, with much humour, the Cha Cha Cha, Rumba, Rock 'n Roll and Samba. He asked if he joined the next class would I be there. 'Umm, not sure - probably not' I said, now on my guard. Pity, says he, as he would very much want to dance with me. Yuk! I got out of the pool, saying 'swapping partners was not allowed.' Not that I had a proper male partner... a girl who works at the Gym has been my partner for the last five weeks. How feeble was my reply to this thick-skinned man? I drove home thinking that I really must be more assertive and next time (and I think that this guy will indeed attempt a 'next time'), I will tell him to eff off! Perhaps that will do the trick!

I'd rather paint daffodils than negotiate around a dance floor with silly little men while their wives look on. Is it me?

Artwork and life

2008-11-27T14:45:00.001-08:00

Someone said to me that snow scenes were dead easy... being white on white! Let me tell you that they are the most difficult to paint... minimalist in the extreme! I am coming to grips with watercolour painting and I'm beginning to understand the way in which the water makes the paint work! This is by accident rather than by divine and expert tuition; although, I have now devised a way to extract tuition from the reluctant tutor without her feeling threatened!

If I could only develop a bit more expert knowledge and my own style, I could paint a picture for each of all my family members and give as a Christmas present!

Having spent the week caring for a grandson who contracted a winter gastric flu bug from thoughtless 'outlaws' last weekend, and has been very poorly, I am now screaming to do my own thing and continue with both my painting of bathrooms and bedrooms... and, my watercolour attempts. However, I don't feel too good, and I think I may have caught the flu bug. Downing loads of sparkling water, vitamins and healthy foods, I hope to get a good night's sleep and awake refreshed and bug-free. Yeah, right!

Grandson and I had a good old chat today, and he is very sensitive and thoughtful, particularly about relationships and has a genuine concern for his wayward and totally differently-minded brother. A brother who manages to get into all kinds of trouble, who is selfish, bullish and erring on the criminally-minded. It is a dilemma for my grandson who feels responsible for his own brother. He is only eleven but carries the world upon his shoulders. All I could do was ensure that I would always be here for him and would do all I could to help. How could two brothers be so different in temperament and in sense of right and wrong? It happens! I recalled the extreme differences between my own brother and myself. It's hard to accept that sometimes, siblings can vary so much and be extreme in their behaviour and thoughts. At moments like this I feel ancient and wise; also helpless and useless. Sometimes we have to sit back and let time and events happen. I know that one of my grandsons will do well and be a likeable, kind, honest and trustworthy person; while I suspect that the other will, or may, learn the hard way. Both have a happy home life with caring parents who have always instilled right from wrong... so, we can only assume that their differing temperament is due to nature rather than nurture.

Genes are genes and set before birth. All I can do is be there for both and try to help them on their own path through life... for the short time I have left on this planet!

It's good to listen to my grandson, for he takes my mind off my own loneliness and today he mentioned my lovely departed man and how he missed him. I sometimes forget that others miss him too, and that I am not the only one who suffers.

Painting

2008-11-24T15:10:00.001-08:00

My Art class last Tuesday was not good! I hadn't a clue as to what I was supposed to be doing and when I asked those next to me... they didn't know either. Consequently my mountains were crap... although my sky and water was quite good.

At the end of the two hour session, when the tutor happened to walk close to me for the first time in the entire evening, I asked where I'd gone wrong. She sat down and demonstrated how to do the mountains. A bit late, I thought. Two hours of frustration had gone by. She said, when I mentioned it... "Did I not demonstrate...?" "No", I said, and added, "it would be helpful to me if next session, you could demonstrate to the different groups so that we may all benefit." She gave me a kind of blank expression and said, "Yes, I suppose I could do that." She then walked off and out for another ciggy. Is it me? I ask myself. People next to me hadn't a clue either and listened intently as she demonstrated to me how we should have done the mountains two hours earlier!

So, onto another kind of painting whereby my daughter, granddaughter and I spent the whole weekend painting three rooms in my house... why? Because I'm so fed up with looking at Builders' Magnolia that has been splattered with squashed mosquitoes and grand children's dirty fingermarks.

The result is excellent... but then, I knew exactly what colours to use and what the final result was to be, and exactly how to go about it to achieve the finished look. So different to my Art Class.

At least I can paint walls, ceilings and woodwork!

Builders' Magnolia

2008-11-21T15:00:00.000-08:00

I've cleaned my car - as best I can... I always seem to miss a bit; the lower 'sills' I think they are called? I know that cold weather is imminent and thought it best to have a clean frozen car rather than a dirty one. Why? Don't know!

I have just spent a fortune on my credit card for paint! Yes, I want to get rid of the remainder of my Builders' Magnolia, which is now a dirty version of the original, complete with swatted dead mosquitoes and children's' fingerprints. I have chosen 'Liqueur' for my bedroom and 'Old Gold' for the bathroom. I don't mind the painting, but I loathe all the preparation. So, daughter number two and granddaughter are coming up tomorrow to help me out. It's the shifting and lifting that wears me out. With a little bit of help I should be fine.

I don't know what I'm doing for Christmas... my daughters are all tied up with other things and visiting other people for the festivities, leaving me all alone for the first time - ever! I didn't think this would happen to me. It's something I have to get through - me and the cats! Perhaps it will be okay... we'll see!

I haven't made a Christmas cake, or a Christmas pudding. I have no money for presents for everyone this year. I have no where to go. This is a strange situation and quite alien to me. Part of me just wants to hibernate until the New Year when it's all over. But, why should I complain? There are thousands of people in a much worse situation than me. I have a lovely house, with heat, warmth and a little food; a TV and a large comfortable bed. More importantly, I have my health and my lovely memories... oh, and a Gin and Tonic if I should need one! I am indeed a lucky woman!

Country living - alone

2008-11-17T09:08:00.001-08:00

I read Liz Jones's Diary in yesterday's Mail on Sunday; it mirrored my own thoughts and feelings on living in the country - isolated with only animals for company. The noisiest one being the Barn Owl and his mates.

Like Liz, I wonder what on earth I'm doing living so far from civilisation when I'm so, so very lonely. Then I read further into her page, realising that it isn't the place that makes you lonely, so much as the fact that there is no one to share anything with. If I had my lovely man here with me, I would fully appreciate and love the sound of owls, foxes, birds, geese and ducks and all the other sounds of nature that are free from noisy motorbikes, screaming kids and shouting mothers, engines revving and lorries thundering along. I don't have the world and his wife rushing past my window, looking in my open windows at my furniture.

Liz sums it up when she says, "I want to be loved". Don't we all?

There must be thousands of people in this country living alone who feel unloved and very lonely. However, when I meet with some of my friends, I listen to them moaning about their husbands and partners. I see them hurry off home to make sure dinner is made on time - not so much out of love, but to avoid a row. I watch their lack of decision and their lack of confidence and low self-esteem that has somehow crept up on them over the many years of being in a marriage that is not quite equal. They cannot make arrangements to meet up without first asking permission. They have to ask to have the car or to even have pocket money.

While I too am lonely, I don't want to be in a relationship that is one-sided or dominated by someone else. My first marriage was along those lines and it took twenty-four years before I escaped. My second marriage was so very different. We were equal; we cared for each other deeply and never, ever undermined each other. I was very lucky to have such a rare and loving relationship, albeit only ten years, before he died.

While I empathise with Liz Jones, I would not enter into any relationship that would jeopardise my individuality and freedom to exist. I get very lonely, but I'm learning to live with it. Having a man (any man) around isn't always the answer... perhaps getting to know, value and love oneself comes first!

Somewhere over the Rainbow

2008-11-13T14:10:00.001-08:00

While walking in the park at Blenheim Palace this week, my good friend, who'd just given me the most delightful massage, and I, saw the most amazing rainbow as we turned and looked behind us.

It lifted me up and out of my self-indulgent thoughts and reminded me that I am just a speck on this planet, with no influence on the higher nature of things. I felt small - again. Once upon a time, when working for a large organisation, I used to think that I could move mountains, secure agreements and change the world, or rather the small world I worked within. How wrong and silly of me. All the corporate wranglings and office in-fighting meant nothing in the big scheme of the Universe. I have moved on and learnt that nothing really matters any more, except to be good, honest and accept things and people as they really are, and to look upon the nasty ones as being hurt and damaged people. Am I religious... No! Am I wiser...Yes!

With all this wisdom comes a sense of 'Ah well, getting up out of bed in the morning gives a feeling of achievement' now, when to be honest, I could just stay there. I look forward to the small things, like a cuddle from my cats, a cappucino, a swim, a soak in a scented bath, listening to good music, sneaking a bit of very dark chocolate (as if anyone was going to tell me off), watching a sentimental film, curling up on my sofa in front of a log fire with just a few scented candles lit. My world has become smaller and more personal. Even though I don't have much money at the moment, I still went out today and bought myself some scented body lotion. I suppose the need to pamper myself stems from the fact that I am alone and lonely and no longer have cuddles from the one I loved.

My friend pointed out that it may be lucky to see such a complete rainbow. It made me aware of just how small and insignificant I really am. Just a small speck. A person trying to cope and trying to look after herself in small and little ways in order to get through another day and another week. Bit by bit, inch by inch I hope to get somewhere... where? I don't yet know.

A different View

2008-11-12T10:54:00.001-08:00

I thought it time to share my meagre art attempts with the rest of my blogger friends... sorry! Here is a tree in winter, and yes, I know the colours are vivid and hot, but that was the mood I was in last night at Watercolours for Beginners class!

I have bought a wonderful book that takes me through the steps and techniques to achieve something worthwhile... something I don't seem to gleen from the Tutor who keeps nipping outside for a ciggy! I think this must be her first teaching job and it must be quite stressful for her, even though we are a mild-mannered and docile bunch.

The tree was supposed to be in muted grey colours and a muted grey/pink background... but hey, isn't it all down to interpretation? Having bought the requisite 'rigger' paintbrush last week, I now have to fork out for a flat head brush for next week's lesson! I have made two new friends in the process, which makes it all worthwhile.

As for the organisation that has so far, let me and several others down badly... I am awaiting (but not much hope) for a reply to my letter to the Head Honcho in London, whereby I enclosed all correspondence and my thoughts! He probably won't read it, and will pass it down (as expected) to middle management to deal with. I have no real hopes of achieving anything now.

I think of 'him' more and more lately... I don't know why, but, I have now resigned myself to an existence of daily achievements with no hope of replicating what I had before. It is a monumental milestone to realise and to accept that 'this is it'. Realisation brings long periods of 'down' time... resolution, acceptance and resignation of the situation. I feel disappointed that so far, I have achieved not much in life except to have been loved and to love. That in itself is more than some people achieve. So back to my watercolour painting... it fills a small gap.

Perfection in our hopes

2008-11-07T15:28:00.001-08:00

How can anyone try and beat or perfect nature? The precision and perfection of colour are exquisite in this view of the pom pom dahlia, which thankfully is coming back into gardening fashion!

I have viewed and watched various photos and video clips of Barack Obama and what I see through my intuitive eye is a man who believes he can do good. I wonder though, how much he can do good with so many in attendance who will deter him from his righteous path in the name of politics? In today's Daily Mail he was likened to the first heady days of Blair. He too, looked like the saviour for our country. We are all too gullible and too willing to believe in a saviour. If he or she looks the part then as a nation we are fooled.

If Obama had been a single mother too... then he would have performed a hat trick!

I only hope that America will now review it's former prejudices and embrace the change that has happened.

There have been many times during the last three years when I couldn't have given a damn, but I now find myself taking an interest in World matters. It's a pity that the new president elect hasn't managed to push up the FTSE index, then I'd be a lot happier and would not have to scour the papers for a job!

Fat Cats Abound

2008-11-05T10:58:00.001-08:00

I hadn't noticed it before, but judging from this photo of Pebble, he may have a squint! This could explain why he doesn't catch any mice or birds! He probably sees two of them!

I have forgone the ritual swim in the pool tonight... for some reason I'm tired...(could be all the swimming)! And the prospect of being talked to by Mr Amorous again - should his wife not be there.

Yesterday I had lunch with two friends from years' ago and with whom I trained the majority of a county Police Force in IT skills. They had found a photograph of my lovely man - taken in 1988 while he was on the Firearms Team.
It was a time when he was young, strong and in my view strikingly attractive... not that he wasn't when we first met some six years' after the photo was taken. I recognised his colleagues and it brought back some very good memories of when I was doing something worthwhile and something I enjoyed - teaching and training.

My Tuesday night art class reminds me of twenty-five years' ago when I first embarked on an IT course for women returners to work. The teaching was so appalling I decided to become a teacher. On Tuesday nights I'm reminded of just how appalling some teaching really is and although I've applied and am on the register of several colleges to teach staff how to teach - nothing... not a bite. I suspect (again), that teaching and training of college staff is done by existing staff as an 'add-on' and not worth employing someone new. So I sit in my Art class while the teacher pops outside for her usual ciggy and wanders around the class not giving out any useful tips or techniques that I can grab and successfully use. It's a case of experimentation with some lucky accidents and several torn-up disasters.

While my cats seem happy, I worry now that their appointment next week for an innoculation booster will result in my being reprimanded for over-feeding them.

2008-11-03T14:37:00.001-08:00

I feel a lot better for sending my email to the certain charitable organisation that has allowed a bully to reign. I have withdrawn and have stated my reasons why. I don't particularly care if they respond, but it would be good if they paid more attention to their policies and acted upon them in future. Time to move on.

I went for a swim tonight, and boy am I getting toned. I can now swim very powerfully for several lengths without my heart exploding out of my chest. And with only two other people in the pool, it was good. As I got out of the pool, who should walk in, but Mr Amorous, without his wife tonight. He whistled as he walked towards the Jacuzzi, nodding at me as I got out of the pool. He asked me how my Art class at college was going - (we bumped into each other one evening at the college). I asked how his German class was going. We exchanged just a few sentences and I left. Then in the Bar on my way out, he waved and signalled me over. He asked if I'd like a drink. "No thanks", said I. And I walked out. He looked a little crest fallen, but what was I to do? I don't fancy him, he's married and short. End of story!

It's good stuff for my novel though! Thank you Puddock and Richard!

Log Fires and multi-tasking

2008-11-01T16:03:00.001-07:00

My multi-fuel burner is now going full tilt; central heating turned right down to save oil; electricity use is to a minimum and a few candles are burning - great for giving me a wonderful complexion - should anyone be around to notice.

A week spent with daughter and granddaughter - doing lots of DIY jobs around the house and garden. Their help has been just what I've needed to get my life organised again and to take my mind off a letter that arrived at the beginning of the week. A certain organisation has supposedly sorted out Mr Nasty... Ha! The two page letter points out in a thinly veiled way that I am putting everyone to a lot of trouble and causing a lot of extra expense, and why oh why (it asks) did I go down the 'formal' route instead of just discussing the unimportant little episode over a cup of tea"? The TV advert for Oxfam comes to mind... shouting out No to injustice!

Onwards and upwards from now on. Life is too short for all of this. I shall look for something else to do when not sitting in front of my log fire stroking my two cats, drinking tea and listening to soft music while reading by candlelight. Now that's what I call multi-tasking.

Dahlias under threat

2008-10-26T15:11:00.001-07:00

This coming week will see the end of my dahlias - there's frost on the way, and due to living in an exposed area that receives the gales straight from the Bristol channel, there will be no respite for my little garden.

The clocks have gone back and it's taken me all day to reset all eight of them! I was hungry at five instead of six, the cats wanted their meal at four instead of five, and my washing got damp because I left it out too long! Now I'm knackered at ten instead of eleven.

Tomorrow I pick up my daughter and my grand-daughter who will be staying with me for most of the half-term holiday. Not much money to spend this time as my reserves are dwindling and I may find myself in real financial difficulty soon.

So, it will be jacket spuds with baked beans or tinned tuna - all from Tesco - rather than Sainsburys or Waitrose. I will be roasting a chicken, then making soup the following day and making a stir fry from left overs. I'm batch cooking and loading the freezer with meals for one to see me up to at least Christmas. I have pumpkins galore which will be turned into soup. However, I have discovered these last three lonely years that I can live quite frugally on my own. In fact the cats get more spent on their food than I do!

If only I could find a lumberjack who could supply me with logs all winter. I'd also like to find a man who could do massage properly; another who could cook and another who could make me laugh. Ah well, I shall have to just flex my muscles and do everything myself, although the massage bit is difficult.

I've cut the last of my dahlias and roses and brought them indoors to brighten the house. And so ends the summer... not that it had begun. I enter another long, dark, lonely winter of uncertainty, but being an optimist at heart, I'm always looking for what might be.

Who's the pumpkin round here?

2008-10-24T14:23:00.000-07:00

Today we, the militant tendency, or splinter group, or famous five... have had our first meeting, putting together our constitution in order to obtain a bank account for our very own conservation group. Scary stuff!

Working out how to word the section on volunteer behaviour was a bit tricky, but essential to avoid any future occurrences of unacceptable behaviour.

Undertaking tasks is the easy bit... dealing with other human beings and all their idiosyncrasies and varied value systems and behaviour is another matter. What have we let ourselves in for? Why are we doing this? Are we the pumpkins?

All will be well as long as a certain Mr Nasty doesn't try and inveigle his way in. It's a shame the organisation in question doesn't have more teeth to its bite and assist us... I suppose everyone these days is afraid of doing the wrong thing, eg., human rights and litigation and all that, never mind those who have been bullied and feel vulnerable!

Perhaps we could find some really nice, strong men of any age willing to support us and come along to our weekly conservation sessions, who would also guard against any bullying or intimidation issues. I'd provide the cake!

Anger drops like leaves

2008-10-20T10:41:00.001-07:00

Today was the first meeting with a representative from the charitable organisation dealing with the incident of bullying and aggressive behaviour. So much time has elapsed since the event that I no longer feel anger at the nasty bully, nor do I feel anger at the deplorable mishandling of the situation by the organisation - after all, not many have the ba***, or courage to act swiftly and finally. However, some good comes out of these things and we (the militant tendency who've said 'No' to bullying) are thinking of setting up our own group - with the backing and support of the organisation in question. We are still thinking about it... the support will have to be bloody good!!!

As the rain patters down outside my window this evening, the leaves from nearby trees are falling to the ground - not in submission, but in preparation for coming alive again in the spring - in a slightly different array of leaves and splendour.

My tears are similar... I cry not in anger or shock or unacceptable loss - not any more. My tears trickle slowly in acceptance of the love we had, and I smile at all the happy times. Anger drops away, leaving room for growth. A much healthier view, I think!

Autumn and change

2008-10-14T14:57:00.001-07:00

After nearly four weeks of being kept in the dark regarding the bully and the charitable organisation's actions, it seems there is hope after all and that some kind of justice will prevail. Four weeks of being 'in limbo' wondering what to do with my Wednesdays or what other group I could join has left me drained with an outbreak of cold sores and a nose bleed. And, it's true, stress really does age your skin!

Meanwhile, I've swum for Britain and given myself muscle strain; I've dug for victory and re-designed my front garden - moving plants around and digging up the bindweed - again. I've cleaned and polished the house so much even the annoying Anthea Turner would be pleased.

I've also made an amazing discovery; little amorous man in the swimming pool -(he of the sneaky smiles and winks - for the last year), was in the jacuzzi looking as brown as a nut. Sat beside him was another equally nut-brown woman. He looked embarrased and climbed out. I asked the woman where she'd been to get such a deep tan. "I can't pronounce Fuert...ventura - but it was in the Canaries". She talked freely about their holiday and referred to her husband's job - that of an ex-policeman who now has a civilian job with them. I asked if the man that was sitting next to her was her husband. "Oh yeah, that's him." She said miserably. What a horrible little man, thought I.

The more I see of the men around here, the more I want just the company of my cats.

I feel change coming over me again - not the Jeckyll and Hyde kind of change, nor a hormonal one, but more of a 'rising out of the ashes' change. I feel stronger again, happier and more self-assured. I make a resolution not to let a Bully ever 'pull me down' into the depths of my boots - ever again.

In loving memory...again

2008-10-05T15:04:00.001-07:00

Yep... another year gone by since my lovely man departed this planet, and the rose shown is called 'in loving memory' and still it blooms.

I don't know if I am getting resigned to the loneliness, or if my destiny is that I am to be alone now until my own death. The fact is, that I no longer gaze at other men I see in the street or at the Gym. No one could ever match up to my man, and I feel I'm losing the will to ever find one to replace him... probably because I know I never shall.

I spend more and more time alone with my two cats, and I read more and sew more. I long to join a dancing class, but there are none in my area.

However, I've just joined a beginners' class in Watercolour painting at the local college and while the teaching is anything but good, I have at least, painted a colour chart, three oranges of dubious colour and an apple with a bite out of it. There wasn't supposed to be a bite out of it, but I got bored waiting. I was told my red wasn't the right colour red and my yellow wasn't lemony enough. Ah well, who cares?

I haven't gone out and bought three sable brushes as instructed, instead preferring to use those of my dearly departed who discovered he could paint after suffering his stroke. I use his paints and brushes and the teacher will just have to like it.

The two hour lesson sped by and I found the experience therapeutic if nothing else. It beats being bullied by a member of the other group I'd joined six months' ago and which is still under investigation. Somehow I don't think the investigation will come to much... there's funding linked to the bully and in my experience, funding always takes presidence!

Three years have gone by and still I yearn for him, still I am lonely and cry at night. Is there no end to it!

Smelling of Roses

2008-09-26T14:39:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm so disillusioned, disappointed and in despair. I and a co-leader were aggressively bullied and because those in authority have not contacted me since I sent my report and complaint over a week ago, I phoned to ask why. The response was beyond my belief.

Perhaps I should have just 'decked' the person concerned because remaining calm during a crisis was obviously where I went wrong.

I am distraught and feel as though I've been through it all over again. There were sixteen witnesses to the event, for goodness sake! I have been kept in the dark for ten days with no response.

Why do some people always come up smelling of roses no matter what they do? My faith in human beings has reached an all-time low. I have been set back months and feel as I did after losing my lovely man - just when I had regained a reason to live again.

It's the injustice of it all that gets me. I can't and won't tell lies.

Basic Instincts

2008-09-22T14:24:00.001-07:00

If you have any doubts that we live in a society controlled by men, try reading down the index of contributors to a volume of quotations, looking for women's names.
- Elaine Gill

I mentioned briefly in my last post about being on the receiving end of 'Mr Nasty'. Why is it that people who bully and intimidate always manage to find people who are frightened of them? Why do people not stand up to the bullies?

When on the receiving end of a tirade of aggressiveness, I was shaking inside; shocked at the level of violence in Mr Nasty's voice as he stood in front of me, sounding off. If my lovely man were there - all six foot two of him, then Mr Nasty would not even have dared scowl at me, let alone shout at me. But Mr Nasty knows I am on my own. I discovered a long time ago that bullies are, at heart, cowards. The situation I found myself in was not one where I could merrily knee Mr Nasty in the crutch, much as I wanted to. I chose to ignore him - which I think, angered him all the more. Not content with shouting at me, he verbally attacked a friend who'd come to my defence. You may want to know why the attack? Can't say at the moment - but let's say that I'm waiting to see how all this turns out in order to consider my next move. I have complained in writing, as have others. Let's now see if those in authority are intimidated or brave!

Bullies come in many guises, both men and women; often those in some kind of authority who have a damaged past. However, we are not here to psycho-analyse such people - let's leave that to the professionals. But, do we not owe it to ourselves and others to face up to the bullies? In doing so, I have gone through feelings of stress - I just hope it's worth it.

Maureen and I...

2008-09-21T11:42:00.000-07:00

Today while reading the Sunday supplements, I came across a segment of Maureen Lipman's bitter-sweet memoirs - of which she described how she thought she had found a new love after the death of her beloved husband, Jack Rosenthal. As I read through the heart-rending thoughts of a woman bereaved, I empathised every feeling and thought. Like me, she so wants to find a new love that is every ounce as good as the love we had, and in so wanting, we sometimes miss the signs that it isn't so. Not that I have had the same experience... no Mr Nice Guy has turned up and probably never will! But her words echo my fears that no-one will ever match up to my lovely man and therefore I'm doomed to a solitary existence, dreaming of falling in love again and continually being disappointed. I don't see any men out there that I'm attracted to, although one or two have given me a second glance - probably in curiosity rather than attraction.

I like men's humour, I like their no-nonsense attitude to life and their uncomplicated view of the world. They don't over-analyse as we women tend to do, they just get on with it. I don't want to make the same mistake as Maureen Lipman in thinking that the first knight in shining armour is a replacement for what we had. But I know that just like her, that is exactly what I want! If only I could be uncomplicated and just accept compliments without worrying about future relationships and would they turn out like my lovely man! If only I could stop analysing!

I need to correct an earlier comment; I have met several Mr Nice Guys! It's just that they weren't the right Mr Nice Guy - or am I being too picky? They have all been just a tad too small, smokers, bad teeth and/or bitter from a divorce. Perhaps it's me that's the problem!

Having been on the receiving end of a very Mr Nasty recently, I hope there are a few more Mr Nice-Guys out there!

Do I have the wrong Map?

2008-09-15T09:43:00.001-07:00

The full moon today has left me restless; urging me to rethink my path, avenue, direction or way forward. Just as my confidence and self-esteem seems to be improving by the bucket-load, I decided today, to scour the web for courses and jobs. Two emails came back 'unobtainable' and previously alluring courses are not as straightforward as they first seemed in the adverts.

Archaeology course now doesn't begin until next April; psychology is a possible still, but the price is tremendous, leaving watercolour painting for tuesday evenings! I fancied dance classes but need to travel to the other side of Oxford late at night - should I? Or, settle for Salsa at the village hall. In view of my previous experiences with sweaty married men at Jive classes, I think I'll give it a miss.

So, I shall now go for a swim in the hope that something or some better thought will come to me.

Having seen old friends over the weekend, I long for a change to my circumstances, whether it is a job, a course, meeting more people, or doing something that signifies or ensures my future existence on this planet. Just like the picture; my path is uncertain, obscured and with no guarantees that it is a path to anywhere - a bit like life! I have a map - but have still not discovered the right path!

Hopping about on lily pads

2008-09-06T15:15:00.000-07:00

Life is so complicated... we jump from one situation into another, thinking we have a plan, but all the while we just seem to be governed by some kind of universal destiny of which we have no control.

Today, while in the south, I happened to meet an old acquaintance who looked so much older than I remembered him. His wife joined us too, we hugged and asked each other how we were, not having seen each other for at least 14 years. He is recovering from chemotherapy and having non-hodgkins lymphoma... no wonder he looked so much older. He was optimistic and upbeat, knowing he had just one more session of chemo to go. His wife used to be a student of mine and became a friend. She too looked much older than she really is. I also learnt that mutual friends were suffering from various illnesses, job losses and financial difficulties. My daughter was with me and remarked afterwards how much younger I looked, and how much laughter and life I had in me. She said that I looked no different now than I did fourteen years' ago, yet my life has been in no way better than those I met and discussed today. What is it that makes us age or not?

I came away feeling humbled and grateful for what I have, even though I've lost my lovely man. My old friends still have their partners, but life has affected them all. It's like a lucky dip... none of us know what's around the corner.

In view of all that, let's all just enjoy every moment we have on this planet. Jumping from one lily pad to another is all we have, so let's keep jumping!!

An elevated view of things

2008-09-05T14:54:00.001-07:00

I've lately found that I seem to anticipate happenings and things people say. For example, I was driving my granddaughter back from a trip out and as I turned down the narrow country lane towards my house, for some reason, I said out loud, "Oh No"! Simultaneously I stepped on the brakes to slow right down. My granddaughter looked at me and said, "what is it"? I didn't know why, and edged the car around the corner. There before us was a large lorry with an attached crane, blocking the lane with several cars queued up waiting. I reversed into a driveway and went back the way I'd come, wondering about my momentary premonition - if that's what it was. My granddaughter looked at me for a few moments and then said, "Wow Nana, you're psychotic"!!

She could be right!

Ghostly Monks and bad behaviour

2008-09-03T14:15:00.001-07:00

For the second time in a couple of weeks, I and one of my grandchildren, crept about a bit in the crypt at Oxford Castle looking for 'Bernard' the ghostly monk who likes (it is alledged), to play tricks on visitors. We were told that sometimes ghostly images turn up on photo-shots... not on mine! Although, some of the electric lighted candles went out while we were creeping in the crypt. I assume it must have been Bernard's day off!

Two of my four grandchildren are embarking on a new scholarly term at 'big' school and both, this week have been very nervous. I cast my ageing mind back to my first day at 'big' school and remembered the fear and then the feeling of inadequacy when trying to find my way along endless corridors, dodging very tall and grown-up pupils who seemed a world away from my childish experience. I don't envy my grandchildren, but, it is one of those necessary steps towards adulthood, which some never make successfully. And on the subject of growing up, I am constantly dismayed by those around me who haven't managed it!

Today at Green Gym, we dismantled a crumbling dry stone wall in order to repair and rebuild it. And what happened? As usual, when it came to assembling, the men took over! We mere women who have been trained, (and got the certificate I might add), were sidelined. I tried to get close with my chosen bit of stone which looked as if it might fit... but was told "We've already tried that"! So, I watched as one of the men repeatedly hammered away at a rock to make it fit. Then the instructor in charge, appeared, assessed the protruberance of an old tree root and proceeded to rectify it, before finding the proper stones to fit. Inwardly I punched a fist in the air at the intervention of an expert. So, I raked up some prunnings, pruned a bit more Ivy off the walls and poured the Teas and coffees. It wasn't worth the argument, but sometimes, I wish dominant people would just let the rest of us 'have a go'. The sun shone, there was a light, fresh breeze and a French Camera Crew filmed and interviewed us... hmmm, perhaps that's why some were more dominant and visual than usual!

I often compare my lovely man with those I have to work with now. No comparison. My lovely man was not overly dominant and always put others first. He did not boast about his achievements, nor 'muscle in' on a group task. He empowered his staff and praised constantly. He was just lovely. Having said that, he had many faults (none of them major) which I do not gloss over, and neither do I put him on a pedastal - a common mistake and occurrence of we the bereaved, thus preserving them in perfection.

In my three years' of grief, I have analysed myself and others repeatedly and no longer get too annoyed at people's failings or idiosyncrasies. If I get annoyed, it doesn't last long... I move on and let go of my feelings, letting them drop off me like raindrops - something I could not do just a few years' ago.

It's not age that has made me wiser. It's the shock and loneliness of losing my soul mate which has put everything else in the shade, hence I don't get so emotionally upset as I used to, because the worst thing that can happen, has actually happened. Nothing else matters so much any more.

Another trip to Oxford

2008-08-30T14:22:00.001-07:00

My granddaughter will be 12 this December - a date that will always be dear to me, for the very evening she was born, my lovely man and I got together. My granddaughter is tall, bright and very attractive with deep red hair cascading down her long back. I took her along to the Green Gym, where she willingly painted our logo onto a new wheelbarrow - in bright pink enamel, along with a flower and a few dribbles! Somehow, I don't think anyone will be stealing it!

Again, I climbed the 101 curved stairs up the tower of Oxford Castle and took this picture. My granddaughter loved the day out... hopping on and off the tour buses, stopping off at various sites of interest, listening to the taped commentary about the many University Colleges and the famous people who had attended. I was absolutely knackered by five-thirty as we caught the Park and Ride Bus to my awaiting car.

Tomorrow she will be helping me on the Green Gym stall at the local Fair - a big event taking up a couple of fields in the surrounding countryside - thunderstorms expected but who cares? It's not as if we are unused to the rain this summer!

She talks of my lovely man now and then, remembering his humour and generosity. I'm glad he's not forgotten, and while alone in my thoughts today, I wondered how my grandchildren will remember me when I finally 'pop my clogs'.

Leading a Green Gym

2008-08-21T16:00:00.000-07:00

Showers were expected, what a surprise! With my little bit of card containing my crib notes wedged into my fleece pocket I set out to co-lead our newly-formed Green Gym, not expecting many volunteers to turn up. Another surprise! There were loads of them - a bit daunting, but I began the warm-up exercises, introducing some new ones learnt from the two-day course I'd attended. All followed my lead which gave me the confidence to move onto Health and Safety and use of the Tools, finishing with strict instructions for them not to chop off their fingers and toes, nor anyone else's... not on my watch!

All went well as we edged towards tea break; no wasp stings, no broken bones, no severed bits of anatomy and everyone laughing and working hard at their chosen tasks. Only one little blip... someone's terminology to describe someone else's health issues was a bit near the mark and the matter had to be addressed - swiftly and in such a way as to leave the person under no illusion that I meant business... to enforce the point I called for back-up from the Project Leader who reiterated what I'd said. Not sure if the person has 'got it'. We shall see.

Three hours passed quickly and it was time for the cool down exercises. Why is there always one person who defiantly manages to sweep the already swept path, just to delay the exercises? I've come to the conclusion that this person is just seeking attention and likes to be called over to join the others. Whatever! What I hadn't expected was the laughter that accompanied my newly introduced exercises. Either everyone was in an exceptionally good mood, or that the Moon was in a special trine that highlighted sexual innuendo. It was not my intention that the back and shoulder stretch, with bended knees should in any way resemble (as one normally sedate and short lady suggested), we were hugging a very tall, good looking man, to which everyone laughed... picture short lady with bended knees, arms in a large circle in front of her... I think you know the connotation implied. It went downhill from there and whatever I said, someone put a different meaning into it. I wasn't sure what I was to do about this, so I chose to ignore it and moved swiftly on through the exercises, deciding to leave out the Pelvic Tilts!!! I ended with a big thank you to them all for their support.

Many said they liked the new exercises and could they have a few more new ones next time?

Later, I reflected on how my first co-leading session went. Much laughter, much work achieved and a worrying insight into the workings of the minds of some of my fellow Green Gymmers! Is it me? Am I a bad influence?

A good day in Oxford

2008-08-18T10:21:00.001-07:00

Friday started out as a trip to Oxford Castle with the two boys - (the last day of their week-long stay). As we waited for the next guided tour to begin, I noticed a man dressed in medieval clothes hovering near the books and plastic swords and shields. He turned out to be our Tour Guide... a job I'd applied for a couple of months ago, but didn't get a reply. We climbed a hundred and so spiral stone steps up to two levels, then onto the tower to view Oxford. Then we descended again to the crypt and were told stories of ghosts and funny goings-on! The boys were enthralled and purposely stood in the 'haunted corner', hoping for a 'happening'. I fancied a 'happening' myself and went over to join them in the corner... nothing! Not even a whisper in my ear!

Outside the Castle, among the cafes was a 'Krispy Kreme' Doughnut shop... it brought back happy memories of our trip to California and buying twenty-four Krispy Kreme assorted doughnuts for our lunch while on our way from Los Angeles to Palm Springs. My lovely man was always ready to do the unusual and give me treats and surprises... how I miss him and his wonderful attitude to life. The boys and I ate a dozen doughnuts during the rest of the afternoon while on a walking quest around Oxford. We ended up at the Oxford Botanical Gardens, which I absolutely loved! Amazingly, so did the boys.

It was a good day.

Widow with a Drill

2008-08-11T15:29:00.000-07:00

The wood store is coming along nicely, albeit held together with some dubious black plastic ties. I am, nevertheless, getting to grips with the electric drill and have managed to screw several bits together...(HA! It's the only screwing I will be doing)!

I now need to contruct a 'lean-to' roof and have been down to the local DIY store where a nice man who has been smiling at me for the last two years, called me 'my love' as he handed me my change. All uplifting stuff to a middle-aged woman dying for a screw or two! Did I really just say that?

Back to the Wood Store... various brackets hold bits of wood in place and I now have some plywood for the roof, along with some roofing felt. The whole idea is to let air circulate whilst providing a little shelter from driving rain. I'm getting there, despite not having a clue regarding woodwork, carpentry or joinery, and with no book of instructions available. It will be a 'cobbled together' work of art when it's finished, and as long as it does the job, I don't mind if it's not perfectly correct according to standard practice of the Guild of Master Craftsmen. This is a job for Oxfordshire Widow Without Funds... or OWWF, (come to think of it, my next door neighbour is a joiner, but I can't bring myself to ask him for help...hmm!)

I've been offered a job today... providing tea and cakes for the local cricket team every Saturday from September til April. It's not what I had in mind, and will not pay me enough to help me over my financial crisis. It will also get in the way of my Saturday Green Gym sessions where I shall be co-leader. Mind you, it lifted my spirits, just as the man at the DIY did. I may not be quite so useless and invisible as I first thought. I just need to earn about £500 per month to be reasonably okay. If only some of the colleges had replied to my earlier letters regarding my application to train would-be teachers. It's something I was good at and thoroughly enjoyed. Perhaps I should write again. There must be something out there for me...

A bucket load of men

2008-08-08T15:25:00.000-07:00

What good responses I've had to my last post - my dilemma regarding a need for a good old rogering! I admire those of you who can talk to your grown-up children about these matters... I can't; not because of their reaction, but because of my not wanting to embarrass them or myself. For me, it's a delicate matter, best discussed with other women.

Last night, while sat in the hot bubbling jacuzzi, I got talking to a new member of the Gym; a tall, well-spoken man somewhere in his forties I'd guess. It was good to talk without there being any underlying sexual agenda. Person to person. Little amorous man was nowhere to be seen last night, nor was he around tonight when I again saw my newly-found friend who talked to me whilst we languished in the Jacuzzi. He spoke of his children and wife etc, and I told him about my Dry-Stone walling course. We laughed and were relaxed... so much better than being wary of sexual advances.

I came away from the Gym wishing I could find a man like that who was interesting to talk to, normal, pleasant, funny and devoid of self-importance and pride, who also was attractive - it's just a pity he was too young and married.

So, I have now come to the decision that should a man be the right age, unmarried and just as pleasant as my new Gym friend, then he can bring on the sexual advances in bucket loads... I'm ready!

Desperate or what?

2008-08-07T13:20:00.001-07:00

I had a long telephone conversation with a long-distance friend today, primarily on the subject of men! I am in a dilemma concerning the attentions of little amourous man at the Gym; he has increased his smiles and is now saying hello and nodding at me at every opportunity. I nod back and wonder what I should do. You see, I am now 'gagging' for some kind of physical attention - yep... good old sex! It's not easy to admit this. But there is a problem, which I discussed at length with my friend... I am not usually promiscuous and have actually only 'known' two men in the whole of my adult life. While I have a 'need', I don't want to hurt anyone, or use anyone, or make myself more vulnerable by inviting someone into my life. Heavy Gardening, Green Gymming, and swimming til I feel sick, are no substitute. So, what do I do?

I sit here writing about it, having my two cubes of dark 70% chocolate, a small glass of wine - unusual for me as I don't like it very much, and a handful of mixed nuts... pondering on what I should do.

There must me thousands of women like me... of all ages, who have a 'need' but are too refined and shy to do anything about it. Where are all the bloody, good-looking, fit, intelligent and caring men that we women so desperately need?

Dead?
Married?
Gay?
Non-existent?

Is there anyone out there who can provide answers????

Having said all that, I was dressing in the Gym tonight when I overheard two women talking about their husbands... all in their fifties. One said her husband refused to come to the Gym to try and shift his overhanging beer belly. The other said her husband said that if she didn't lose some weight, he would leave her. They went on at some length about the failings of their husbands which made me glad that I was single... but then my husband was neither of these and he was always complimentary, caring, tall, sexy and adored me. The two women should re-think their relationships, because they certainly don't have what I had.

In conclusion, I think I shall never have what I had with my husband, so should I just accept the attentions of amourous little men? Or, should I just give up wanting some kind of sexual relationship and find a chemist that supplies bromide?

Rain and Reading Articles

2008-08-05T11:41:00.001-07:00

It's a damp, quiet and lonely day in my home. Feelings of aloneness are more acute today as I look around for things to read in order to avoid doing the ironing.

According to an article in today's paper, I am too old to wear: a) mini-skirts (why would I want to?); b) pussy-bow blouses (I never have); c) banana flat shoes, (ugh); d) spaghetti strap maxi dresses (so unflattering); or e) anything that shows a cleavage (I prefer to keep my bust covered, with or without an ill-fitting bra)!

No doubt of surprise to some - (in the Trinny and Gok camp), the majority of us have a good idea of what suits and flatters us, even if we have to shop at low-budget stores.

I read the article and thought, it really doesn't apply to me anyway... I don't go anywhere, so prefer to wear jeans or trousers and usually a T-shirt or cotton blouse (without a pussy-bow - whatever that is)!

Then I read another article that said, 'Latest research has shown that by the time women reach 48 they are the sadder sex, while men start to enjoy the best years of their lives.' The article went on to give a variety of reasons, one of them being widowhood and they qualified men's apparent enjoyment in middle-age as being due to earning more and having a good married home life. No comment!

Isn't it about time the media celebrated women of a certain age? We now look and feel younger than our mothers and grandmothers did at the same age; we have confidence, knowledge and sophistication as well as earning power. Articles on smart, elegant and ageless dressing would be good... without stereotypying us maturing women and giving us tips on dressing for our age! Style is Style, whatever the age.

I feel better for having had my say... even though just a handful of people may read this... if I'm lucky. So I gaze out of my window at the pouring rain and the patio table that hasn't had it's parasol unfurled all summer, thinking wouldn't it be nice to dress up and go out somewhere for once? Preferably with a man who is content but, not married.

The science of Bra Making

2008-08-02T12:54:00.001-07:00

The bras I bought a few weeks ago don't seem to fit me anymore... have I changed shape? Or did they not fit me perfectly when I first bought them, or have they changed shape in the wash?

So off I ventured again; buying bras in the size I think I am; namely: unusual and unique... in white cotton with adequate straps that can support a seemingly ever-changing pair of mammary glands.

I tried on nine bras in the fitting room and came away with one. I bought two of the same and came home; changing into one along with a new T-shirt. After half an hour, I was chafed and uncomfortable and just took the thing off. Is it me? Do I have ever-changing bosoms?

There must be a way of replicating my one and only well-fitting, fifteen year old, black lace, balconette bra. The science must be in place, surely? It was an M & S bra, which they don't seem to have reproduced at all. If I were famous, like Jeremy Paxman who managed to get Marks and Sparks to review their men's underpants upon his complaint, then they would no doubt listen to me. But who am I? Just an ordinary middle-aged widow with no clout. It all reinforces my current low self-esteem and frustration with my lot.

A well-fitted bra would not only lift my tits, but lift my spirits too.

Dry Stone Walling in the heat

2008-07-28T06:21:00.001-07:00

A two-day course in an exquisite expanse of Cotswold countryside in heat of over 31 degrees was exhausting, sweaty, mind-numbing, but satisfying when you look at the results. A team of three women - we did our best! Not a job for the hottest weekend of this year, nor is it recommended for anyone physically limited, weak in stature or for those who hate jig-saw puzzles with the picture missing! I now know how to build a Cotswold Dry Stone Wall; a handy skill if ever I should have the opportunity to build one. In short - an excellent course, just a pity the weather was so relentlessly hot and oppressive. There was a written test at the end for anyone who wanted to gain a certificate. Our team declined as we staggered to our sun-baked cars where the smell of melting plastic and foam engulfed us as we opened the doors. Our brains were not at their best; due to heat exhaustion and sun stroke, no doubt.

During this last week I have also constructed a large wood-store with the help of my two grandsons. We moved large pots, wood pallets and a small shed in order to begin the construction. It's not bad... despite my snapping a drill bit while trying to screw holes in the thick tannelised wood; despite having to use plastic ties to join pallets together, and despite my lack of skill at using an electric drill. I can see a definite change in the shape of my biceps, and my shoulders seem to be bigger. How feminine.

Another month nearly gone, as I edge closer to the third anniversary of his death. What have I achieved, apart from dry stone-walling and building a wood store? Bigger muscles? Making a few friends with the Green Gym? I think that what I've gained most is inner calm, less anxiety over what will happen to me and a feeling that if I never, ever again find a really nice man to fall in love with, I can at least, survive reasonably well, physically and emotionally. I will somehow have to get used to the loneliness.

Headbutting is no cure

2008-07-18T15:39:00.001-07:00

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!

Hollyhocks and people

2008-07-17T14:47:00.001-07:00

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.

A Petunia in an Onion Patch

2008-07-14T14:10:00.001-07:00

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?

The Postman's legs get wet.

2008-07-13T12:42:00.001-07:00

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.

The sound of Gulls

2008-07-04T15:15:00.001-07:00

I pulled weeds out of my West Oxfordshire windswept garden yesterday, idly letting my mind wander where it wanted, I thought about the sound of Sea-gulls or rather, the lack of! Having spent a great deal of my life living near the sea, I now find that in my land-locked area the sound of Gulls is something I miss; that and the light in the sky, which is always brighter due to the reflection off the expanse of sea. I also miss the beach walks and beach-combing, along with the salty air. I suppose it's the time of year when others around me are preparing to go on holiday and I am unable to afford a holiday this year. And, when we can't have something we crave it more.

Perhaps I could drive down to the south coast sometime soon; it's only two hours; spend the day on the beach with a picnic, paddle in the cold water and breathe in the salty air. That's the thing with being single and out of a job... if I can afford the petrol, I have the freedom to do whatever I want.

A Pigeon sat on the overhead wire above my car, so I clapped my hands loudly to scare it away. I prefer Gulls any day, although come to think of it; excrement from either can really mess up my car.

Summer Song

2008-07-01T14:29:00.001-07:00

Summer Song is the name of the rose that sits on his ashes. The scent is delicious and heady, just like the last summer we had together.

I thought all the peculiar, grief induced, mind-disturbing dreams had ended. But no. In my pre-waking moments this morning, he was in the room looking tanned healthy and strong. He was smiling at me and scooped me up in his long arms and twirled me around. He asked me how I was and that he'd missed me. I told him how wonderful he looked. There was no sign of the debilitating effects of the stroke and he talked about helping me sort out the finances and that everything would be okay. I said that we must be careful what we spent our money on and that we must ensure that we ate healthily and stayed fit. I suppose that in my confused sleepy state I was trying to prevent the stroke I knew in my subconscious was going to happen. It was as if the truth was trying to seep through my dream. But he was so real and I actually felt myself being scooped up in the air and I felt his arms around me tightly.

This is the third vivid and so real dream I've had since he died where I've felt him and touched him and have even smelt his scent. I've had other dreams of him, but these three dreams have been different; he has been real and alive and we talked and smiled together... so different and so disturbing.

I can only assume it is a cruel trick of the mind, but for a few moments in time it felt as though he was really with me again. I awoke feeling lighter, happier and loved. If only he could visit...