AAAAHHHH!!!!

So those few little scratches on my lovely little car are going to cost in excess of £2000/ $4000 to fix.
Good nights work then for those louts who saw fit to engrave my car with the word SEX and make sweet wavy patterns on my door.

This beautiful picture was painted by my eldest son for my birthday. I was going to put my car instead, but didn't know how to blank out the number plate. So I thought discretion was required. Which is fairly mad when you consider how I'll show my body off at a moments notice!!

SUNDAY MORNING WORRIES

It's 7am on a Sunday morning, and I should be having a lie in, but I've been awake since 6 worrying.

What am I worrying about..... oh all the normal things everyone worries about, primarily money and my increasing lack of it. The worry that won't make any difference if I do it, or not. Those thoughts about what can I cut back on, how cheaply can I do Christmas. How can I eek out my money if my house doesn't sell quickly next year...... and on and on and on.

I hate getting into a state about something so futile to worry about. Cause worrying never helps me, sorting out a way forward helps, not ruminating and going down deeper into an out of control spiral of thinking.

So to move it on I'm not going to focus on it anymore, at least today. Instead I'm going to take a leave out of Mel's book and just for my own enjoyment list some of my favourite things..... You know I think Julie Andrews had a point when she sang that song!!!! The things that make Sunday bearable that I can write down and then hopefully go back to sleep for a while till a more civilised time to be awake on Sunday morning.

The rain, that is currently pouring down outside, and knowing that being in bed is the best place to hear it .

The sun, that might shine later, so as I can have my breakfast outside.

The birds, that have interrupted me with their song to take my mind away to listening to them.

The duvet,that is keeping me warm and toastie

The sons, that are sleeping in the rooms next to me. Knowing that later I will make a roast lunch for us all to share.

The computer, that allows me to communicate with my friends.

The phone, that I'll use later to speak to some more.

The mind, that allows me to change it and focus on being here right now, rather than is some useless fraught imaginary place.

The ability, to find light and peace in the moment. To be present, to touch my skin, to look at my hands, to hear the birdsong, to wriggle my toes.

The love, that I receive, and the love that I give, that's the bottom line.(pun intended!!!)

POST SCRIPT Why bother lying in your bed worrying, when someone can walk up your drive and damage your car. I have a wonderful black convertable, it's not that posh it's an MX5. Sometime between yesterday afternoon and this afternoon, some fucker has ripped off my wing mirror, smashed the arial off, written SEX on my boot lid, gouged out scratches all over the passenger wing and the drivers door.

I'm looking at a total respray if I can get the insurance company to pay,otherwise I'm stuck.

FOR EVERYONE WHO'S GOT AN EMPTY NEST THIS WEEKEND

It was dusk when she got back, it had been a long long day.
She drove the car back onto the drive, stopped, but didn't move.
She didn't want to get out of the car, almost as if she stayed there, it would all be ok and there would be no more pain.
She started to think about the last couple of days.

They'd had a row the day before, the first one they'd ever really had. There'd been lots of BIG discussions over the years, but not a full scale row like this one. They'd been able to make up thank goodness, but it had been horrible.

To think he'd been smoking for years, and she'd only just found out. But she was grateful she had, she'd been able to say he could start over, go in as a smoker or a non smoker, which ever he wanted. He could be exactly the person he wanted to be, this was his time.

It was no good she had to go in the house, turning off the engine and picking up her bag she got out of the car and walked slowly towards the front door.

Inserting her key, she opened the door,opening her mouth to call out 'Hello I'm home' she stopped mid gasp, there was no-one to hear her say those words.

Oh this was hard, the tears sprung to her eyes. She didn't know what to do with herself, so doing what all English people do the world over she put the kettle on to make a cup of tea.

It was so quiet, she turned on the radio for some company, it was still tuned into his favourite radio station, she couldn't bear that not feeling as she did. She switched it back off and finished making the tea.

She wandered into the living room, she was a very tidy person and there was no trace of him in this room, it was all elsewhere in the house. Absent mindedly she sipped her tea and thought about the day.

He's been so excited deciding what to take, and what to leave behind, and packing the car up this morning, there was hardly room for her to fit in the passenger seat and she had to carry a plant on her lap all the way there.

When they'd got to Cambridge, they'd found the place where all the other parents were unloading their cars. His car was definitely the scruffiest, but it was his!

He got the key to his room and climbed up the winding staircase to the room, it was wonderful, easily Elizabethan judging by the beams showing through the plaster. It overlooked the street opposite his College. They worked hard together unloading and going back for more for what seemed like hours, just piling the stuff in the middle of the room. It was done, he'd met someone on the corridor, it was evident that he wanted to talk to this new potential friend, and to unpack his things in his way.

She wasn't needed, for the first time in 18 years he didn't want her to be there. Knowing this, knowing that this was the start of letting him go for him to find his way as an adult she swallowed her emotions . Gave him a huge hug, and said she'd text when she got home.

Remembering this she got her phone and sent him a message, and immediately got one back saying he was fine and had started unpacking, and that he loved her.

That was enough,all day she'd held herself in, and now, only now, looking at his text did she start to cry. How was she going to cope without him, who was she going to talk to, who would have time for her the way he had.

Oh this was no good, she had to accept this and get on with it. Wiping her eyes, she got up and decided to be brave and go in his room and see what that felt like. After all the sooner she did it the easier.

It was absolutely awful, there was his unmade bed, the sheets waiting to be changed. His waste basket over flowing, his drawers in his chest of drawers open with unrequired clothes falling out, she sat on his bed and sobbed. He'd gone, her eldest son, her first born.

But being her, she couldn't just sit there, so stripping off the bed, and putting fresh linen on the bed, folding the clothes, shutting the drawers, taking the rubbish downstairs, she started to feel more in control as she tidied.

She shut the curtains, put on the lamp to make it cosy, and thought to herself someone can come here and I have a guest room. This thought helped, even though she knew it was only being used to keep her from crying some more.

A while later, her youngest son erupted back into the house. Going upstairs he called down to her, 'I'm going to sleep in my brothers room from now on, it's bigger than mine' And suddenly that was the answer. She'd move their rooms over and then that smaller room would be a way for her to deal with her big son coming and going as he would in the next three years. It would be almost an impersonal space,so she could get used to him not being there.

Three weeks later she went to visit for the first time. She'd booked herself into a hotel by the river,it was the first of many visits over the next three years.

She went to see him in his room, it was amazing he's made house in the room, posters on the walls, strictly against college policy! Blankets and cushions piled up on the chairs and bed. House plants all over the place.He was proud of how cozy he'd made it. He was able to own how much she'd influenced him in making a home wherever she was.

She'd never known that he was as much of a home maker as she was, it made her ridiculously pleased, and happy that he was able to cope with his homesickness by making a safe little nest for himself.

The pain of separation did go, she loved having him home for the holidays, but sometimes when he was back she amazed herself in looking forward to his going. They both had to work at making a future for themselves, that meant that they didn't think of him ever living at home for any length of time again. He was grown and it was time for him to live his adult life.

After all we only get to borrow our kids for a while, and she was grateful for those years they had together as he grew into the wonderful man he is today.

LOOKING FOR PEACE IN MYSELF AGAIN!

I am a really good con artist. I specialise in conning myself all the time. I work really hard at it, so that I can believe in what I need myself to believe in.

It's surprisingly hard work this, as however much I apply logic and sense to what I need to believe, my emotions sabotage me, and undermine by behaviour so I end up doing something else!

And what do I con myself about...... relationships, of course!

I act all tough and independent about not needing a relationship with a man.
I mean I've got great family, astonishing friends, a great job, a fast car.... blah blah blah!

And some of the time I buy into this con, and I'm really happy in myself.

But other times I'm not, I'm lonely and empty and yearn for someone special in my life.

For a very long time I've been unable to join an internet dating site, reason will be clear in a bit. But a few weeks ago,in a moment of not thinking, but feeling, I joined one. It is allied to a newspaper, and I liked it as it tries hard to find people who you are compatible with .

Course once I'd joined it, I did nothing, my ambivalence about doing it shone through. But to cut a boring story short, there is a man I've been flirting with for a few weeks. And the amount of emails we are exchanging is getting more frequent.

Initially I was a real tough cookie and did my best to put him off, but he kept coming back for more.

Last night instead of the normal exchange we've been having I decided to ask him 22 questions ( look I don't have to be conventional here, do I?) And in asking him I wrote my answers as well.

I woke up this morning knowing that he had been in my head during the night.
I checked my emails this morning before work.... sad I know, but I'm an addict right!

He'd answered them and said he would send me some of his own. His answers made me laugh and I was/am looking forward to his questions.

Here in lies the problem. The reason I haven't joined an internet site before and now have to face with this man is, when do I tell him I've had a mastectomy?

The answer is, this afternoon. It is almost too early, except this contact is starting to matter to me and I do not want to climb this mountain to be rejected because of my physical self. I can cope with someone not liking my personality, although, obviously would find it hard to believe, being as gorgeous as I am!!!!

I have worked so hard to be at peace with myself about how I look. I don't hide it, as you know, but it's whole new ball game to tell an anonymous person that I've only got one breast.

I know I'm taking a risk this early, but I'd far rather be rejected for this right now, than before I get any more emotionally involved.

He is seemingly a nice man, and whatever his response to this information, I know he will handle it gently. And I know that because of his life it may not be a straightforward reaction.

But I can't second guess him.

I just know that this afternoon, I feel so sad, and alone and facing the horrible shit inside that I can mainly leave locked in a cupboard. I'm not frightened of letting it out, when it needs to come out I deal with it.

Just wish right now there was someone here to wrap there arms round me and tell me it'll be ok, and that I'm ok. And it's ok to be sad, which I know it is, but I'd just so love that special person, wherever he is in the world, to get here soon. I need the hugs.

And if all else fails I shall put myself back together and go back to the con!

I know this is an old record, but every time I have to deal with it, it reopens the emotional wounds. And if I can't tell you who can I tell?

THREE CUPS OF TEA.... a book everyone should read.

I want to suggest to anyone who likes books to read this book.

I was given my copy by Sorrow , when I visited with her, and I've just got round to reading it.

This book is outstanding, it's a the true story of a remarkable man called Greg Mortenson. He was a mountaineer, he attempted to climb K2, but failed and due to his exhausted state on his descent he got lost, and ended up in this village in Northern Pakistan. The people in this village gave him everything they could to help him return to health. He vowed to return and help them build a school for all the children, but especially the girls.

The rest of the book follows his journey to build school after school in one of the most deprived areas in the world and his struggles to succeed. His battles with his fellow countrymen to educate them that just because someone was Muslim , didn't mean that they were terrorists.

The book tells us that education is what will win the war on terrorism, not the gun.
If we all learn about each other then we can learn to live with each other in peace and not in fear.

There is more than one reference in this book to Greg deserving the Nobel Peace Prize, and I would concur wholeheartedly. What this extraordinary man has achieved in the last decade plus is outstanding.

And his message is ever more important when The Marriot Hotel in Islamabad has been bombed this week.

How long can we go on in this world using violence as a way to sort out the world's problems. Surely it's time we thought about the affect of every single shot or bomb that's dropped, that kills someones mother/father/son/daughter/ sister/brother. These victims in which ever country they are, are not all terrorists they are human beings just like us, they bleed as we do.

I do not have a religion that I buy into, I am an easy going human being who believes that we all have rights to a reasonable existence. And because I live in the Western world I'm more than a little privileged compared to my fellow human elsewhere on this planet.But that doesn't mean that I have any more right to kill than anyone else.

Fear is what is driving this world at the moment,ignorance of how others are. Plus radicalised religion, which surly comes as a direct result of fear in the first place.

This world is lucky to have the likes of Greg Mortenson and we who don't have the ability to do what he does should support him regardless of our religious beliefs or creeds.

Cause I for one don't want this world destroyed through the bullet so that land is unusable to grow crops. And people who have farmed that land for generations are displaced and have to eek out a very meagre existence in a refugee camp to try and stay safe.

WE GET THE KIDS WE DESERVE???? part 2

This post will contain a lot of swear words, be warned.


My youngest son is a tough cookie, he always has been. Having been brought up with his two cousins and an older brother he came out fighting for his place in the pecking order. When he was very small he would get furious if he was told he was a baby, and would always demand to be referred to as a big boy!

He has had no male roll model to speak of, outside of his brother,who is 5 years older, for the last 11 years. As brothers they get on really well, and I think that is because my eldest has never taken on the roll of father figure to his sibling.

This has meant that my youngest, has been very selective about who he trusts and respects. And top of his list, outside of me and his brother, are his mates. These mates generally are a couple of years older than him with the occasional younger one slipped in for good measure. The bond that he has with his mates is very strong, and he will defend them at whatever cost to himself.

He is belligerent and angry. He is opinionated and arrogant. He is also extremely kind, gentle and considerate. He is very witty and a great conversationalist. But for this post the nice qualities aren't important.

Last night after a fantastic day out at a concert against racism, held in the same town as a BMP march was organised..... (I won't even go there, I may just get too angry myself).He and 5 friends ended up at a local cricket club to have a pint and to play pool.

He and one of his friends were on the pool table when two, approx 40 year old, men started to challenge them to have a game for money and then to generally try and intimidate them. Well my son does not intimidate, he stood up for himself, and wouldn't leave the bar without finishing his game or his pint. By this time other 40 yr olds had got involved and one inparticular wanted a fight by himself with my son and his mate. Both these lads are 17. All of this dialogue took place with a huge amount of verbal aggression and all sides.

They went outside, only for my youngest to be jumped on by one of the two original men. My son punched back, then he punched again and on the third punch he knocked the man trying to hold him downs' tooth out. And frankly at this point in the story, me as a very peace loving person, feels like congratulating my son.

His captor let him go and son saw his mate who had been playing pool with being set on by three grown men. He knew he had to help his mate, he also knew he couldn't fight off three grown men. So he picked up a flowerpot and smacked one of the men with it.

This resulted in around 10 grown men beating up my son. They got him to the ground and started kicking him in the head and neck. By this time all his mates were trying to pull these fucking bastard grown men off my son.

Eventually when they felt they'd kicked him enough it was over. My son went to hospital. He sent me a text telling me not to contact him and that he was ok. Which I didn't get, as phone was downstairs, for which I'm thankful!

And he returned home around 3.30 this morning, he has a terrible black eye, his face is swollen, his neck is lacerated and bruised, he's broken a knuckle. And he sat on my bed and told me all of this. He was shocked and angry as I was.

It's one thing for my son and his mates to get into scraps, it's their age and testosterone levels! But for men of 40 to think that it is acceptable to beat up two 17 year olds just because they wanted to finish their game and drink in peace I think is bloody outrageous.

My son's friends have been texting him all night, and have been phoning me up to see how he is. As he is asleep and minus his phone as he needs the rest.
I have been up on the hour checking to see if he is OK and have fed him pain killers.

I am almost beyond words I'm so incandescent with rage.... mother lion or what here!
That my son, who has just been taught to stand up for himself and not be frightened of others, to be assertive,and to believe in human rights has had to put up with this shit, he has been taught to respect people. But for him this respect is only given out when people earn it.

I know my son is no little angel, he is the complete opposite of his peace loving brother. I know he and I fall out at a moments notice. I know he is an angry young man. But no-one has the rights these men gave themselves, to try and teach him a lesson last night, no -one!

If I knew who these men were, right now I think I'd go round and beat them up myself, for thinking their behaviour is acceptable. WANKERS! BASTARDS! FUCKING ARSEHOLES! YELLOW BELLIED FUCKERS! TOSSERS! JERKS! Oh,I could go on, but perhaps best to stop!

I want my son to grow up, to find a peace within him, as he has spent so much of his life battling, but being treated in this way doesn't offer much hope for him to get that way. I know he will wake up angry today, and I know that actually for once I agree whole heartedly with his anger. But I will have to be the voice of reason, as thinking of getting an eye for eye, which is where his thinking will go, is not the direction to go in. Which if I'm not careful will end up in us having a row that will ruin both of our day.

WE GET THE KIDS WE DESERVE????

I've had to put this wonderful pic of my big son up, well it's wonderful in my eyes! Cause tomorrow he's 23 yrs old, So Happy Birthday him! Plus he's now got a place to live in London, so he will be leaving home again in 10 days.

I've been working hard in the last few weeks that he's been around, not to think of it, as him having moved back. I've maintained he's just on holiday in my head. Cause if I'd gone anywhere else then the empty nest stuff will be getting me on the 30th!

Whilst he's been at home, we have been doing a fair bit of talking about our futures and how we are going to support ourselves/and/or each other. Which has been lovely as he has such a generous attitude to looking after me. Even though I do not expect or want him to, unless I fall on hard times at any rate. But it has made me appreciate how caring and loving he is towards me.

I am very proud of both of my sons, for who they are as people (even the youngest with attitude!!) They both display a compassion and understanding way beyond their years and they always have done.

And nowadays I can own that they may well have inherited that, but also they have it cause of the way I've brought them up. Saying this echoes my being able to own that I am ok and worthy as a person. And false modesty isn't going to get me anywhere!!!

In the bigger picture , however, I do think kids are getting a rough deal of it. This morning they were talking on the radio, about how the number of parents who make the time to sit with their children and read aloud to them has shrunk considerably from when my boys were little.

Which I think is really sad, it was one of the best bits of the day when they were snuggly in their PJs and sitting cuddled up either on the sofa or with them snuggled down the bed with me sitting on it reading aloud to them before they went to sleep.

Fewer and fewer children get to sit as a family round a table with their parents to eat their meals. It is a loved tradition in this house to eat together, it has always been the time of day for talking over the days events. And Sunday lunch is just the best bit of the week. I love the whole deal from preparing the food, eating it and clearing it away together afterwards. Although now having the dishwasher is a bonus for all!!

Of course it could be argued that my children have had a privileged existence. I would agree that they have been brought up in a middle class lifestyle. But I have brought them up on my own since they were 9 and 3. They have no grandparents alive that have taken any interest in them. They have only one Auntie who has bothered with them, even though they have three on their father's side. They haven't seen their father, except once for 4 hours, in the last 11 years. And the eldest went to Cambridge because he's really clever

There was another programme on the radio today, about how many children and young people are suffering from mental health issues. And how completely useless nationwide services are. Obviously there are pockets of outstanding care all over the place. But generally the provision is abysmal, particularly for anyone between the age of 16 and 20..

There needs to be a specialist service set up by the government that allows access to this age group to non threatening and useful care. One in which their special needs because of the age group is taken into account.

Self harm is on the increase, drug abuse is on the increase, alcohol abuse is on the increase, stress and anxiety are on the increase, depression is on the increase.

Admittedly these things are on the increase in the whole population, as our society struggles more and more in today's world.

But if we as a society want to decrease the mental health budget in this country then we need to move massively into preventative care. And not leave it till the problems become entrenched and subsequently more difficult to deal with as people become ever more stuck in their mental health problems

There is so much talk every time exam results are published about how the exams are getting easier than in whomever's day. They haven't they are just different. It doesn't equip anyone in today's society to know when the Battle of Hastings was (1066!) or even where the Battle of Hastings took place (which was at a place called Battle a few miles away from Hastings!)

What matters is that these young people can cope with the pressures that society puts on them, whether that's how to be effective in ICT, or English/Maths or in my opinion how to learn to communicate effectively about how they feel.

Surely the day of the British stiff upper lip is and should be over. There is nothing useful about being proud of not dealing with our feelings. And if we teach kids to communicate at a young enough age and not be ashamed of having their feelings then we are making a step in the right direction.

Ultimately it will put me out of work.... but that if it means that people are not suffering with mental distress it is surely a good thing.

The family needs to sort itself out, priorities need attending to.
Schools need to sort themselves out, priorities need attending to.

No wonder there is a gang culture, all kids need to belong, and if the parents don't provide that, then their mates will. And we get the society we deserve.

NOT A LOT ABOUT ANYTHING

Trixie gave me an award YAY!!
And I'll give it straight to RONJAZZ as he needs all the support he can get right now

Now repeat after me firebyrd, you will not spend the rest of the evening fiddling with the magic carpet ride that is the black box!!
You will instead go and make a coffee, go to the toilet, and say hello to your son, and NOT sit here any more messing about. Well at least not until you've done those tasks!!
Go on MOVE!
Right now
IMMEDIATELY

I can see you still sitting there, you need to move, or there will be trouble.

I want some more people to be my followers, please if you love me, pretty please hit the button. Or I shall cry and cry till I'm sick.
And then if no-one loves me I'll have to go down the garden to eat worms
And you wouldn't want to be responsible for that would you?

Haven't got any pics of worms, so this will have to do instead.

So chores have been achieved after a fashion, as it's cold milk, not coffee, been for a pee, and son came downstairs to me, but that's only so he can make a sandwich!

MY WEEKEND

I've had a wonderful weekend, with warm sunshine, good friends, fun outings champagne, boat trips, walks, retail therapy and scrumptious food.... is there anything to beat that!

Pics are of the Mayflower steps in Plymouth where the settlers set sail for the New World. Prince William Victuallers(can't spell and neither can my spell check!) Yard from the Scott Memorial, where the navy made all the food for the sailors during the Napoleonic Wars, now being made into apartments. A view of Plymouth Sound from the buoy at Drake Island. And two Dartmoor ponies who let me stroke them when we walked to Haytor on Sunday.
No photograph available of my new skirt that retail therapy got me!!!!

Plus freshly baked scones and home made jam at Exmoor Jane's this morning, where, fantastic, if somewhat surreal, conversation took place. As in, being in the middle of a deep and meaningful bit and Jane suddenly exclaims 'don't wipe your scabs on the sofa'. Fortunately I was sitting on the chair at the time, so she must have been talking to the dog that's not Asbo Jack???

MY WEEKEND

I'm off to the seaside for the weekend. So I've got a new waterproof coat, big boots and a sou'wester!!!
And if I'm lucky I'll get to go on the beach, even if it's in the rain.
And if all else fails I'll just have to stay in and drink gin with my mates!

INSOMNIA WITH CAR ACCIDENTS

I dearly love my sons, but I could strangle them most nights at the moment.
My sleep is awful, has been for years and years. I blame childbirth, cause I'm sure I slept before that!

There are some times when the amount of times I wake up gets to ridiculous proportions and recently that has been true.

Sometimes I just wake up, have a pee and go back to bed and sleep, but at the moment when I wake up I can be awake for an hour or more.

During the day this doesn't bother me, I'm no tireder than I usually am unless I do two different hours up,like now.

And I wake up early, so I've been going to bed around 10.30.

Tonight at 12.27 Youngest with attitude walks in and starts a conversation with me. Normally he would have been mumbled at,at where to go. But tonight he was in a state of shock. He and his friends had been driving in three cars somewhere, when the first one lost control of his car. Hit the curb, as he was dazzled by oncoming headlights, over compensated, swerved hit the other side of the road, rebounded back and hit a tree then the car literally spinning into the air, landing on its back end. Amazingly the two lads inside got out with just bumps and bruises. And no-one thank God was in the back as they would have been dead.

My son couldn't believe his friends weren't seriously injured, he was a passenger in the next car. He called the police and the ambulance and appears to have taken control of the situation and looked after everyone.

So I couldn't not listen to him as he was very shocked to, and when he'd told me what went on, then had to spend some time talking over other things to calm himself down before going to bed at 1.33am

3.58, eldest son comes up the stairs to bed, I was dreaming and starting to wake so heard him, even though he was really quiet. But that was it, awake, hot flush, sweating and no point in trying to fight how awake I now was.

So now I'm here and I've got a question cause as I awoke I became aware of something about how I dream and I wondered how other people dream. In that, in my dreams I sometimes end up taking on the roll of everyone who features in my dreams, as often I don't know them. Almost as if I was doing a one man play and swapping characters in a play.

Does anyone else dream like this or am I just nuts?

I rarely am able to remember the content of my dreams, unless they feature my ex husband and those are generally the ones that comes closest to a nightmare for me, literally. And nearly everyone of my dreams regardless of what it's about take place in my childhood home, which I left when I was 21.

So it's now 4.30 and maybe I've been properly awake for long enough, and my bed will have cooled down,and I will go and have a marmite sandwich first, then I might if I'm lucky go back to sleep.

Just as well I've no work till the afternoon!!!

Night night!!

PEACE AND PRADA HANDBAGS!!!!

It's odd what sparks off memories. I was reading a book about the 1950s when it mentioned that Christmas wouldn't be complete without a box of Fortnum and Mason peppermint creams. I haven't thought about them for years. My Grandmother always got a box for us. And I can still see the red padded paper covering, and how they were eked out as even then, they were seen as such a treat.

Which then took me to a department store in Birmingham called Marshall and Snelgrove. They also had very distinctive boxes to put their goods in. For a while my very glamorous Auntie worked there and I can remember a Birthday treat probably when I'm either 9 or 10 when we caught the train to Birmingham, we usually caught the bus. We got seats at the very front of the train and could watch the driver. Then to see my Aunt, who gave me a sixpence to put inside my new patent purse. I remember being excited about getting home too, as I hadn't been allowed to take my birthday handbag with me in case I lost it, and I wanted to wander round the house with it, being sophisticated!!!

All of which proves that nothing really changes, as nowadays my sister and I whatever else we buy each other will always buy each other violet creams, it's just are taste buds have altered. What's important for both of us is that they have to come in a box of some description. And I have kept the box from a couple of years ago as it came from Fortnum and Mason and is a lilac coloured heart shape.

And as for the purse and handbags.... well if I ever treat myself to new ones I spend happy time playing with filling them up and then enjoying using them.

The ultimate treat in this way, which will never be bettered was after having had a mastectomy. It was my first outing to Manchester. I had booked myself a facial, that in itself was wonderful. I was still reasonably frail but being bloody minded about being able to cope!

After the facial I wandered round Harvey Nicks and Selfridges just mooching, just feeling glad to be able to do this again. I was looking at the handbags, purses and shoes. All way beyond my pocket. When I spotted this handbag that just said look at me,touch me, buy me.

This was big stuff, I couldn't justify this sort of expense. I put the bag down and wandered around the store some more, arguing with myself about such potential expenditure. I went back to the bag.

It ticked so many boxes for me; It was a designer bag and although I know this is shallow, I like designer stuff. It was subtle in it's labelling, which was important, as I don't like being flash, and it was big enough for all my needs.

Oh, the dilemma, I had to go get a coffee to continue this discussion in my head.
So in Transactional terms my controlling parent was really beating my needy child up at such a ridiculous idea. Fortunately my rational adult decided to enter the fray and said firmly to me..... I'd been through hell in the last few months, I'd got some insurance money back and I could afford it. And most importantly that I damn well deserved a present from me to me, for coping with all that I had gone through.

Sold to that woman.

Now two and a half years later my Prada bag is one of my most prized possessions and in use everyday. It is an outward sign for me of what I had to go through to deserve it.

It is really important that we learn to reward ourselves for coping with what we have to deal with in life. Everyone should have a list of things that are of no use, but are rewards for dealing with the shit. My list contains things, like fresh flowers, a total waste of money as the die, but essential weekly to my well being. My list is quite extensive, and of course I got the ultimate handbag.

It is all too easy to sacrifice ourselves for others, to spend all our spare money on the family and never give to ourselves, cause we hook into not deserving it.

I don't think this is healthy. I feel that if I am able to look after my needs then I'm in much better shape to look after others, and I will do it with a joyful heart. Rather than resentful attitudes and martyrdom which is what too many people hook into. And they wonder why no-one takes any notice of them......

DUH! it's cause they take no notice of themselves in the first place.

So go on get out there do something just for you.... like the advert says "you deserve it!"

And maybe when we start to care for ourselves then we can take on board what Thich Nhat Hanh says:
"Peace is all around us- in the world and in nature- and within us- in our bodies and our spirits. Once we learn to touch this peace, we will be healed and transformed. It is not a matter of faith;it is a matter of practise"

If I can love me, then I can love you. And if I love me I can find peace and everything that flows from it.

MY STOLEN MONEY SAGA

The saga with my money continues.
It started with three payments made out to an American pizza place amounting to £150 ($300). So I told the bank, they were great and told me they would sort it.

Next day two more payments were removed one for £480($960) and another one for £735 ($1470). Again on to the bank and they were again brilliant. They assured me my money would be returned and the paperwork would follow.

On Monday I get a postal delivery, I sign for it. It's a large box and I am not sure what it is. On opening it it turns out to be,one leather jacket XL, one pair of jeans size 38, two pairs of trainers in different sizes and a watch. The parcel has been sent to my address but the name is not mine. But it is similar enough and it has come from the company that has had the £480 payment.

Again I phone the bank, they tell me that i should contact the company in California and ask them what they want doing with these goods as the postage had been £41 ($82) and there was no way I'm paying to return them. They also said that if I can't contact the company then I can do what I like with these clothes.

I've got through to the company told them what's going on and they are either righting the clothes off or will send UPS round and eventually they'll send me an email informing me of their decision

What they also told was the email address of the person who ordered and a phone number.The phone number is only one digit different form mine and in the same town.

So this is all feeling messy and a bit scary, as whomever has done this lives locally and knows where I live. So I phoned the police.

They cannot do anything till asked by the bank and so I now have to call the bank again tomorrow to tell them the phone number of the bastard whose done this to me. And hope that they think it is worth contacting the police as they can so easily locate the thief.

In the meantime one lot of money was repaid into my account followed today by visa insurance. This now means I've been overpaid by £740,and wouldn't I like to keep this money. Which says something about my integrity really, in that I'm outraged that I can be stolen from and not batting an eyelid at the thought of extra money.

Trouble is I'm basically an honest person and when I phone the bank I'll have to tell them.... Boo Hiss!! cause I don't want them catching up with me at a later date when I no longer have the money to repay.

So now currently for however long I'm the proud owner of some bling bling clothes and a ridiculous bling watch that's of no use to me or anyone I know. Which if the company write off will be hitting ebay any moment.

It's a salutatory lesson in how easy card theft is and how vulnerable we all our to becoming victims of crime, without our knowledge.

So it's taught me now to start being extra vigilant about hiding my pin number and my card from view when I use it in the future.

Apparently one in three people is done in this way at the moment. And being me and not hiding stuff about myself when I started telling people I have been amazed at how many others I know who have been caught out by unscrupulous thieves stealing our identities.

So as I said before check your bank accounts, it's so easy on the Internet and may just stop a whole load of horrid misery before it gets out of hand.