Yorkshire Vista and Entente Cordial

I love travelling; road, rail, air and boat. Not that I've travelled much in the last few years, due to my lovely man's illness and sudden death.

I have visited friends in South Hampshire, Essex and been on a Canal trip and a spent a week in Tenby. I have also visited friends in Yorkshire early in the year and visited Castle Howard with them. I would've visited again this month, only the arrival of Pebble has stopped me in my tracks.

However, there has been an improvement in the house; namely entente cordial between the two cats, who now skirt around each other without hissing, spitting and growling. The deterring water spray has been put away and both cats now feed from the same tray and seem to be tolerating each other's existence.

Another week and a half before Pebble is allowed outside; it won't be too soon either, as he tears up and down the stairs, in and out of all the rooms, jumping on and off all the furniture, prancing dangerously close to Banjo who raises her right paw in warning making him brake furiously hard before prancing off to attack the toy lion. It's too much to hope that Banjo will regain some of her youth and prance around the house with him; she is now officially overweight, due most likely, according to the vet, to ongoing depression after losing her sister to cancer and my husband whom she adored and moving house twice; all in recent years. Cats don't cry when bereaved, they become depressed. My grief probably contributed to her unhappiness too; I could've spent more time with her rather than submerged in my own unhappiness. Isn't hindsight wonderful?

Perhaps I shall be able to visit friends again in the New Year, once Pebble has had his 'Op' and his 'pebbles' removed; apparently this will calm him down considerably, (I've known a few men in the past who would've also benefitted from having their 'pebbles' removed).

While I can't travel much at the moment, I still have my many photos to gaze at and remember the excitement of the journey and destination and the accompanying anticipation.

Bath Revival

The full body massage and facial, followed by bathing in the thermal spa waters of the new Thermae Spa released all the pent up muscular tension and stiffness.

I felt uplifted, released, revived and renewed. My eldest daughter and I had decided to treat ourselves to a few days at Bath after the tensions that a family wedding can bring. It worked, and we both returned to normal day to day activities thoroughly refreshed and ready for anything.

The feeling of being complete, whole, relaxed and in control stayed with me as I saw old neighbours and people who were once my friends when I returned to the small town I'd lived in when bringing up my four daughters. So-called friends blanked me, remembering that I'd suddenly left my husband, home and youngest daughter over 10 years' earlier. They still had their prejudicial views, probably fuelled by much gossip at the time which must have distorted the actual truth.

Did I care? No... their opinions did not affect me. I smiled at them even though they turned their backs on me. I walked tall amongst them and didn't give a damn.

Everyone should enjoy a Bath Revival now and again.

Last holiday

The last holiday we had was to Prague. Cobblestones abound as do mannekins, russian dolls, waffles and cream and beers of all kinds in huge litre jugs. This view is from one side of the Charles Bridge which we'd walked across many times during our four day stay. It was here that he bought me a blue topaz ring, with matching ear-rings and necklace and which I wear regularly.

I have jewellry from many foreign places, something he loved to do, but the topaz ones are the most special. After he died, a clairvoyant told me that whenever I wear a special ring he will be near me. I don't really believe that. In fact I don't believe anything the clairvoyant told me while I was deep in early grief. I am too sensible, but was very vulnerable at the time and just wanted someone to tell me he was still with me in some way. I have spoken to two people recently who swear that their deceased husbands have come to them when they were at their lowest point. "How?" I asked. One said he sat on her bed when she was crying in the night and just smiled at her. The other said he had stood behind her in the hall while she was looking in the mirror and he just appeared behind her, and again just smiled. Is it me? Or does anyone else think that the appearance of one's deceased smiling partner is ironically cruel? Does the smile indicate that they are okay in a land unobtainable? I haven't seen even a smoky whisper of my lovely man, but... in those painful early days I thought I heard the front door close, then his footsteps bounding up the stairs and the bedroom door open. By this time I'd closed my eyes and was hiding under the Duvet, when I looked... nothing. I told myself it was because my mind was unbalanced by bereavement and grief.

If he does appear, I have some questions for him; like, where the hell did he put the tenon saw and mitre block?

A quiet Saturday night

What do normal people do on a cold, windy Saturday night? Go out to the cinema or a meal? Have dinner with friends? Get in a DVD and snuggle up on the sofa for the evening? Or, like me, sit on the floor with a water spray in hand ready to spray whichever hissy cat decides to attack the other. But, I don't think it's normal to do this every evening, let alone a Saturday.

Yesterday was a no-pheromone day; I unplugged the diffuser and gave our senses a rest. I'm not convinced it's really helping relations between the cats; more a case of drugging us all up to the eyeballs. The kitten is getting bigger and soon he will retaliate. Do I wait for this or continue to be Diplomat of the Year, playing with them both, stroking and praising them for good behaviour, spraying Banjo with water whenever she attempts to bully Pebble?

Or, do I get a life of my own? How do I get a life of my own is more the question. I really don't want to join a Book Club; I don't want to learn to play Bridge; and I don't want to respond to the invite to join the Womens Institute.

Today I witnessed couples who were in love, couples who were bickering in a shop, husbands who clearly didn't want to be out shopping, children screaming and being pulled in and out of shops. Perhaps I should be grateful that I don't have any of the usual weekend family feuds... just the feline feuds.

Years' ago when I had the girls at home, the weekends were manic; shopping, cleaning, cooking, ironing, sorting out teenage feuds and marital discontentment, and I used to wish for calm and peace and quiet. Then I had weekends with my lovely man where everything we did was peaceful and great. Now I have calm and quiet... and loneliness. Me and thousands of others.

Adoringly Oxford

The very young couple in front of me were arm in arm, having eyes only for one another and with leg movements in perfect syncronisation. They were both about twenty years' of age. She looked adoringly up at his eyes as he spoke; they laughed a lot and bumped into people along the way, oblivious of everything and everyone around them.

When I was twenty years and four months of age, I was getting married. Why? Haven't a clue, except perhaps it was the 'thing' to do back then. Despite being in the seventies, living together wasn't an option for most of us. I'd only known this man a short while; I didn't know him at all, just that he was quite attractive, not very witty or funny, but, according to my fellow Wrens, 'quite a dish'. I remember saying to myself as we stood in front of the Registrar, 'if it doesn't work out then we can get a divorce.' I meant it too. That's how young, stupid and naive I was.

Two babies within seventeen months' later I knew I'd jumped into marriage too soon and for all the wrong reasons. Nevertheless, I decided I would make a go of this marriage and that (even more stupidly), I could change him. Two more babies later and round about when my Dad, then my Mum died I realised I didn't, couldn't and wouldn't love this man no matter how hard I tried.

Luckily, he spent most of our marriage away at sea while I thoroughly enjoyed my lovely babies who are now lovely women. It wasn't until I'd left him and had found my real love that I discovered what marriage should be like. For the first time, in my forties, I experienced affection, consideration, respect, laughter and wonderful, great sex that wasn't just sex. I gave and received love unconditionally; no bullying or controlling; no shouting or sulking. I thought of all these things as I walked behind the young couple in Oxford today, wondering if they would still be together in twenty years' time. I hoped they wouldn't jump into marriage too soon, but thinking about it, my first husband and I never walked arm in arm, never looked adoringly at each other, nor did we hang on each other's word.

Building Bridges

I have a photo of me as a girl of about 6 years standing in front of this granite stone viaduct in South Wales. This was taken recently; it is still strong and reliable; still supporting heavy engines and carriages; still a magnificent piece of architecture.

When my family fell apart; due entirely to me leaving my husband of 24 years back in 1995; I was unable to provide the strong support that my grown-up girls still required of me. Two of them provided shelter for me when I had nowhere to live; they provided me with support. Now, I hope I can still provide them with support when they need it; and they have helped me through the last 2 years of grief after my lovely second husband died. Real friends and close family are the granite of our lives; where would we be without them?

When I left my first husband I was condemned by many; those who only saw the facade of a family and marriage and who didn't know the truth of my existence. I am lucky in that three of my four daughters knew the truth and supported me when I couldn't live a lie any longer. I know of some women who would rather live out a lie than be honest and get out of a bad relationship. Which is the right thing to do? For me, I did the right thing and only regret the effect of acrimony and the resulting resentment of my youngest daughter after having thrust upon her the responsibility of looking after her aggrieved father and for whom she felt responsible and trapped.

Now, I hope I can provide the granite-type support for all of my daughters whenever they need it and that none of us dwell on all the hurt of the past.

Meanwhile, with a water-spray in hand, I can come between the two cats who are getting more assertive and aggressive with each other as the days pass. They don't say how to cope with feline tantrums and fighting in the Feline Advisory Website! Maybe the Plug-in pheramone diffuser has run out! I must remain a strong architectural structure myself and ensure they know who is boss around here.

A journey more calm

Pheromones are abound in this household; cats are calmer and not so much hissing fills the air. The plug-in diffuser seems to be working, so I shall sneak off to the Gym while both cats sleep. I wish I could have had a plug-in diffuser to elimate the early months of painful grief.

Just six months' ago I wouldn't have been in the right frame of mind to look after a wild rescued kitten of just 9 weeks; it would've been all too much. It's only now that I can look back with reflection and see just how grief-stricken I have been while all the time pretending to be 'just fine' smiling and saying 'I'm okay' to anyone who was brave enough to ask.

It's only now that I can look back at my own behaviour with regret, after my father died leaving my mother absolutely grief-stricken after 35 years of marriage together. I didn't understand... I thought I had an inkling of what she was going through at the time and I thought I'd done all I could to help - at the time. Only now, having lost the only person in my whole life whom I've loved with all my heart, mind, body and soul, do I understand the enormity of the loss. If only I could go back in time and with this painful knowledge, do and say things differently for my mother. I may have been able to ease the passage of grief, and she may not have died just one year after my father. I'm so sorry Mum.