My daytrip to Canada part II

Now what was I saying before I was so rudely interrupted....... ah yes part II
My day trip to Canada!

My husband and I (very queenly opening that!) got on a plane bound for Italy. The difference between travelling anywhere in the world I've been and Italy is the noise of conversation. Do they enjoy noisy chat going back to Italy!
I think we went to Genoa, but only if that is by the sea, I can't remember that detail all the way back to 1982. We got on a boat launch and motored out to sea to the biggest ship I'd ever seen in my life.

Getting eventually to the right cabin, after half a day spent in what felt like a small prison cell. I unpacked my things for however long I was going to be here. Books,yes,knitting,yes,stationary and pens,yes walkman,yes, favourite teddy bear, oh yes.

The ship stunk of oil, it was something that never left your nostrils, well it was a super tanker. Walking round the whole deck was a quarter of a mile. And in the early days of being aboard, me and the other wife there would take a daily turn around the deck, till the original Captain changed and the new one clamped down on it for health and safety reasons. Which was understandable to an extent, massive pipes and ropes, anchors and all sorts of ship stuff were all seemingly littered over the deck. But it meant another way to waste time was taken away from me.

But it was for me just another straw of so many, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Howard as second mate was put on watch, so four hours on eight off round the clock, which was incredibly difficult for me when he was on nights, as I only had our cabin to be in or the ward room(bar).

There was in the first month, one other wife aboard and she was an old hand at this and instructed me in the art of cabin cleaning. Every week the Captain had the right to inspect all cabins, to see if the stewards were maintaining a decent standard for the officers. Wives on board were given a notional title of female steward, so our work of keeping our husbands cabin's clean could be inspected.

I was outraged, here I was a 28 year old successful and well qualified nurse, who'd maintained my own lifestyle successfully for years, having my dusting skills questioned!!! And there was nothing I could do about it, as it was important for my husbands job that I was submissive.... Oh boy did that rankle!

This other wife also lent me a poster and some pens to colour in!!!!! Life was that boring that colouring in, something I hadn't done since I was small ,seemed a perfectly logical thing to do. I wrote and wrote letters, especially to my sister, not knowing when we'd reach land for them to be posted.

Eventually we got up to four women on board, and then I learnt to play Canasta, a wonderful card game, which took up my afternoons. It wasn't surprising that two of the women were alcoholics and the one with the crayons was just so submissive that following her husband was a great life for her. In fact in my conversations with her I came to know more about sticky back plastic that looked like Delft tiles than I ever imagined I needed to know ever in one lifetime!

Then there was Nasi Goering..... Oh My God was there ever a meal as disgusting as this, and like most things on the ship was dished out weekly. So imagine if you will what was once probably a very good Malaysian dish presented like this..... Rice, curry sauce, a piece of gammon, a slice of tinned pineapple, a fried egg all on top of each other topped off with lashings of peanut sauce. I just used to have soup that night!

In fact other that the officers obsession with the above concoction the food was good. You could have a full breakfast, a three course lunch and a three course dinner every day should anyone have wanted it. So it was a case of learning very quickly how to restrict my food intake so I didn't just eat as I was so bored and I turned into a lump of lard.

There of course was a swimming pool on the ship, and I spent many afternoons in that. So just stick your arms out in front of you and do one breast stroke with them, do seven and you'd have reached the end of the pool. It was the only time in my life when swimming a hundred lengths was a complete doddle!!

As you can tell from this I didn't like being at sea with my husband even though we were so newly married. And when we came ashore after three months and moved into our new house,which we'd bought before we got married, then I very quickly got a job and two cats so I'd never have to go to sea again!!

Next installment will be about my day trip (promise) and the other highlights of being at sea rather than the stuff I didn't like.

I've got a purple leg!

Well you knew it was coming..... That once I'd had to confront my fears I'd be able to use my knowledge.
What has been really strange has been to have been in the grip of fear.
Ever since Friday the fear had been building, till it reached a crescendo on Sunday morning.
And then after talking with my sons later on in the day I got a bit more of a hold on it.
But last night in bed I really had to clear my mind and not allow myself to get lost in a maze of worry about today.
All of the worry has been focused on going to the fracture clinic. And coping with what that throw at me...... would I be there on time, yes. Would there be a wheel chair to take me up the corridor, yes.Could I go to the bathroom before my friend wheeling me to the clinic left me, yes. Would I have to wait for hours, no, got seen within an hour. What would be the decision about my foot, especially as dealing with the crutches has been extremely wearing and I've been getting increasing pain under the arm that has no lymph nodes. Which in turn was making me fear lymphodema starting. So a walking plaster for four weeks was the answer.
Could I use my crutches back down the corridor to the plaster room, no choice really!
Then a surprising question what colour plaster did I want, well dahrlings there is only one colour to be seen in this season and that's purple!!!
Then could I walk back to the clinic to make an appointment to have the plaster removed in four weeks, again no choice, but I was getting tired.
No phone signal, so back on the bloody crutches all the way back down the corridor to the outside world to call Alex to fetch me. And back to the clinic to sit down as that was the closest seat. Get to the chairs and collapse exhausted.
Enter lady with trolley with goodies, a pack of cheese and onion crisps (chips) and a can of coke worked wonders.
Half an hour later to same terrible walk back down corridor to await chauffeur driven chariot home, well actually to complete the junk food fest McDonald's. I do hate them but it filled a space in my empty stomach.
Home at 1pm plaster totally dry by 1.15 .... result walking! it does hurt a little, but only in one place and all the other battered bits can now recover!
And as for fear.... what fear???
It is astonishing that as we actually have to do the things that previously frightened us they no longer do.
Yes I am exhausted but that is not surprising, and so I'm going to treat myself to my first walk upstairs for a few days and I'm going to bed for an hour, cause I can!
The colour in the photo doesn't look very purple, but it is, and once I've got my matching purple leather jacket on, watch me go!
But just before I go for this trek up the everest of stairs, I'd like to say thank you for your fantastic support and cherishing over the last few days. I have felt held and loved, and it has had an impact on me and I will email soon, well when I've had a sleep or two!

I'm so scared, with no end in sight

I got sent an email this morning with just one question...... How are you going to get your shopping?
It stopped me in my tracks.
What an intreresting question, to which I don't really know the answer.
I have never been so fucking scared in all my life
Alex has been angry for such a long time and especially with me, that asking him to do things is like treading on eggshells. That doesn't mean he won't do things for me, just I have to choose my moments.
He will go and get milk and bread etc. Hopefully my sister will be able to help later in the week when I need more food
And as for cleaning.......Don't have any idea about that one.
I feel so utterly vulnerable and pathetic. It is taking it out of me using these sodding crutches and being not weight bearing so my whole body aches from the effort.
I go to spend a happy few hours (HAHA!) in the fracture clinic tomorrow, and fingers crossed the treatment may not be as drastic as this tempory plaster.
And of course no work no pay. And I have no insurance anymore as I couldn't get it till I'm considered cured of breast cancer which will be January 2011.
I'm sorry to have gone off on one, but I've been worrying and crying about this since 4.30 this morning.I didn't know I could cry so hard and be so lost at that time of night before.
I've had enough this year it's just been never ending and I keep thinking it's all finished and something else comes along slightly worse than the one before.
I normally enjoy my life, being single doing what I want, but right now what I wouldn't do for a man to pop out of a helicoter with a box of milk tray , and even better a pair of strong arms and a willingness to go and get me a cup of water.
Hey ho

Obessional, who ME!!!!!

Being truly obsessional I've had to organise my space this morning, so I can feel in control, well as much as anyone can be with a leg in plaster!
And doing things that we take for granted becomes a huge task, and do I feel good with what I've achieved so far.

So sliding out of bed and into a disreputable pair of joggers and yesterday's jumper I got downstairs on my bottom. I'm so not brave enough to try going up and down stairs on my crutches. I went to open the back door for Trix, only to find that Alex had already left it open when he went to bed.

Frankly if anyone tried getting into this house without our welcoming them I wouldn't give much for their chances with Miss Trix.

So I fed the dog, put the kettle on, and suddenly I'm amazingly thankful that my kitchen is reasonably small, as I can hold on to the work surfaces and hop places to do what passed for my chores. Fulling my two cup flask up with water, it was to the sofa for the first time today to drink out of the cup left there.

From which I made a collection of small plans to satisfy me, like getting a canvas bag to put on my crutch to move things, to get the waste paper basket near me, to get the correct saucer to go with my cup!!!! Yes I know I'm nuts, but it pleases me!

So all this normally minute amount of sorting and tidying took several minutes, but I was happy. So another sit before getting myself and my crutches back up the stairs, not elegant but it works and then start the preparation for getting up.

Now I know I can wash my hair sitting on the side of the bath, and tomorrow I'll do it naked!!!. Made my bed and guess what it was to my normal exacting standards even though now I've sat on it a few times and the duvet is not as crease free as I would like, but it was for five minutes and that worked for me.

It is possible to stand on one foot, leaning against my bed end and dry my hair, it is possible to be dressed in co-ordinating clothes, pale pink jumper, white lacy chemise, white with pink flowers skirt, one pink sock and one trainer!!! But I did make the decision that I didn't need to bother with make up today, as if it matters one iota anyway.

So now I'm back on the sofa with my head in some sort of order cause I feel organised, and it's time to go back to the kitchen and make my breakfast.
There is no time to be bored here, each task takes so long that time simply flies past.

The photographs are of my walk last Wednesday, which was the first of the season, and the last for a bit. So I'll have to watch as my arms become like shot putters and my one leg develops calves like a superhero, that the rest of me doesn't turn into a tub of lard getting no exercise.

My tale of woe

Well Part II will have to wait, whilst I tell you my tale of woe!
Last night at around 10pm I was taking Trix for her last walk of the day. Normally I walk just in the school grounds, and just occasionally on the road around the school. This I was doing last night.

I was also talking to Kit on the phone as he and his girlfriend are stopping briefly here tonight on their way to Wales for the weekend. And because Kit no longer has a car, (not needed in London) as part of his birthday present I'm lending him mine.

This is a big deal indeed for me, no-one else is insured to drive my lovely little two seater sports car. So I've had to insure him for the weekend also part of his present.

So there we are chatting away and as I round the corner in the road 5 houses away from my house, there are Muffin and Molly, two bearded collies with their owner.
Trix decides too good an opportunity to miss and tries to get them. I have quick reflexes in her doing this and grab the lead back in, it's one of those retractable ones. But she is now snarling and being generally obnoxious. Kit is trying to talk to me, as is the owner of Molly and Muffin.

Stop the phone call, phone is still in my left hand. Start pulling Trix over to my side of the road, going sort of sideways/backwards. She is an extremely strong dog, and when I'm on top of the situation I am strong enough to deal with her.

As I give one final pull, the kerb jumps up at me, I start to fall, landing badly on the side of my right foot, hitting my left knee, arm and hand on the ground. Manage to stop my head hitting the deck, but immediately start a nose bleed.

The man is obviously very concerned what can he do to help me, my answer keep your distance! So we continue to talk to each other as I slowly work out what hurts in my body and start sitting up. Trix is of course sitting beautifully beside me as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth!!! Muffin and Molly are also sitting quietly, all are waiting for me.

The man says he won't go till he knows I'm standing and ok, which I know I have to do. I also suspect I've broken a bone in my foot because of the horrendous pain.

I get up, and we say good night to each other and I limp in, to phone Kit and tell him what's happened.

I have blood down my face, my leg and my arm, I get up stairs clean myself up and fall into bed taking painkillers and a sleeping thing with me.

This morning I got Alex up to take me to the local minor injuries clinic in town. Much nicer than having to go to the emergency room in the city. After a couple of hours they confirm I have a fractured metatarsal.... broken bone in the foot to you!
And I'm going to have to have a temporary plaster put on it till I go to fracture clinic in the city hospital on Monday.

To have the plaster put on I have to phone Alex to bring me a skirt in as my jeans will not fit over the plaster later, and it's a shame to cut them up for want of a skirt.

So here I am home with my leg in plaster, trying to manage bloody crutches, gosh they are hard work. Trying to remember to ask Alex to get me all the things I might need when he's not around. So flask of water is sorted, laptop here, phones within grasp, book on the floor, duvet ready to snuggle in. All sorted.

Hang on a minute, what about going to the bathroom!!!!! Well it's sorted, fortunately we have a downstairs one, but oh my trying to stand up leaning against the wall on one leg whilst pulling my knickers up..... not easy!

No doubt my next week I'll be a dab hand at this balancing game, but right now I think I'd like to stop playing this game and go back to being well!

And as for how long I'll be off work, and no work means no pay doesn't bear thinking about. Plus I'm self employed so no sick benefit, oh boy this isn't going to be fun with Christmas round the corner.

A day trip to Canada! part 1

It was early October 1981 I was living in a house with three other people in Kingston, Surrey. Two men and another woman, we all more or less got on, although like any usual shared house there were the squabbles about who'd drunk the last of the milk. It was in a fantastic location, as I was five minutes walk away from Richmond Park, a place I spent hours in. I was working a few miles away in Epsom in a unit for disturbed adolescents, work I really loved.

The bathroom was downstairs at the back of the house and on this particular night I was going back to the stairs to go to bed, clad in my neck to ankle wincyette nightdress and clean skin, when the front door opened and Cheri the other woman came in followed by the most beautiful man I had ever seen. But it wasn't anything to do with me, so I went up to bed. Twenty minutes later, Cheri came to my door asking if I'm still awake, and to tell me that two other male friends of hers have turned up, one of whom she has her eye on. Could I come downstairs and help entertain the other two blokes so she can concentrate on the man she fancies. Could I? another chance to look at that beautiful man, who I feel in love with in that first glance.

I got into my jeans and other clothes in record time and went downstairs.
The beautiful man was sitting on a dining chair and the other man I was to help talk to on the sofa. I sat beside him, but I never noticed him at all. (In fact two months later I went to a party and met this second man again, he was gorgeous, but I was lost by then)

Cheri kept her potential man in a deep discussion and I talked to these other men, although found it difficult to look at anyone other than Howard, the beautiful man.
I conducted myself with the right amount of casual disinterest and at the end of the evening just suggested that if he was passing by again to drop in and we'd go for a drink. I'd established that he was in the Merchant Navy working on oil tankers and was back at college doing his second mates ticket. He'd met Cheri in a restaurant when they were both eating alone. She was so not interested in him, that I felt ok about thinking he was gorgeous.

One week later returning home from work around 9pm I found Howard in the hall of the house, let in by Paul, who'd then gone back to his room. Howard was on the point of leaving, he's just come round to see if Cheri or I wanted to got for a drink. She wasn't in and I said ok.

Getting outside I asked if he wanted to go in my car or his, I had a little mini, he said his and walked over to the most amazing sports car I'd ever seen.... This was getting better by the minute.

We established that night that he came from a very similar background to me, that we liked the same politics, we didn't agree on music, but that was a very small detail.

He stayed the night with me, and never moved out.

Ten days later after I'd had a really bad day at work and was going on and on about stuff, he interrupted my flow of moaning to ask if I'd marry him. I said yes and went back to moaning before doing a double take as to what he'd actually asked me....

Seven months and one week later we were married in a full on wedding in the Church my parents had got married in, I'd been christened in, I was a bridesmaid in and years later my parents would both be buried in.

I hadn't wanted a full Church wedding I didn't have any religious beliefs to talk of, but the saddest day of my mum's life was the day she got married. She had been excommunicated by the Catholic Church and her family in Ireland for marrying an English Protestant. And so I got married there for my mum, who told me during the day that my wedding day was the happiest day she'd ever had. It was the least I could do for my mum, and I was happy to do it, and I did really enjoy my wedding.

Off on our honeymoon, where else but Devon and Cornwall!! to return a week later for Howard to leave me..... well he had to go on a fire trainers course for a week! So I went back home to my mum and dad for the last time.

After the course he was due back at sea, having passed his second mates ticket and having been promoted, and at that time wives of officers were allowed to go to sea with their husbands. So I prepared for a life on the ocean wave, thinking how wonderful it would be so close to my new and shiny husband of two weeks.

Little did I know how very strange an experience I was embarking on.......

to be continued

Rubbish who needs it and who drops it

There is something about this time of year that drives me nuts.... it's the cancelling counselling time of year. There are two seasons every year, one in late winter and one now. So yesterday out of my six clients, four cancelled. Today out of my six clients, three so far have done exactly the same.

Yesterday, I was pleased as it allowed me an afternoon to recover some energy. This morning I'm just frustrated. I was just about to go out of the front door when the phone rang telling me I've no clients till 1pm. I've had a full day booked for weeks, and the bloody clients wait till the night before, or the same morning to cancel, so not allowing the time to offer the appointment to anyone else.

The good thing is I was still at home, but I'm all dressed in my work clothes with nothing to do. There is no point in changing as I will have to go to work eventually.

I know I get paid for this, but even so it is so frustrating, as my mind set says it's a work day and I don't like not earning my money. The doctors I work for, know it's not my fault, but that's not the point.

Anyway enough moaning...... it could have been worse I could have got to work to have to sit around there till lunch time, which would have really driven me and everyone around me mad as I moaned about it!

So moving on, although this may end up sounding like a moan as well!
There were two things that amazed me about Berlin in contrast to the UK. The first was how amazingly clean it was. There was no litter anywhere, where there were bins, there were different recycling bins. There were no discarded cigarette packets, fast food containers, cans or anything else that we in Britain have as normal on the streets.

I went walking, as I always do over in the school grounds on Monday evening and as usual there is litter everywhere, discarded lunch containers, cans obtained from the fast food man who has established a site outside school. I walked past a group of girls the other day as one just dropped her chip wrapper on the floor. I didn't have the courage to take on eight girls, but I was seething at the careless attitude of it being someone elses problem.

The thing is the kids get taught about not dropping litter in school. The punishment at school for bad behavior is being made to clean up after lunch. So it's not as if they don't know, they just don't care.

Where did we wrong with today's children? I brought my sons up to respect people, property, and my eldest wouldn't dream of dropping rubbish anywhere. My youngest couldn't care less. And that's not just about him being the person he is, none of his peer group care either. Or seemingly the generations coming up behind him, judging by the rubbish lying around the school grounds.

Maybe it would be understandable if this was some sort of inner city ghetto. But it's not, it's a small, admittedly once industrial town, surrounded by astonishing countryside. And wherever you go, whether in the streets or into the hills to walk, you'll find rubbish.

When did we as a society stop caring about our surroundings? I expect that within peoples homes they don't have litter lying around,so what gives people the right to think that's ok to drop stuff anywhere, without a thought for the consequences?

Oh dear, I have gone on....... Maybe I need to go and find something gentle to do before I go off to work to calm me down, or my poor remaining clients may not recover from my bad temper!!!

And the other thing that was astonishing about Berlin, no-one jay walked, everyone, even if the roads were clear of traffic crossed the road until the little green man said they could. This is obviously a very successful campaign as in all the gift shops you can buy little red or green emblems of the crossing men.

A German Me and another and another and....

This is all about memememe!

My trip to Germany was 95% fantastic and 5% awful. So to deal with the latter first. I paid for my train tickets to get from Berlin to Usedom over the net, the receipt said I would get my tickets by email. They never came, so on the Sunday of my weekend I went to the service desk at the train station and was told to just go to the ticket office the next morning.

The next morning the ticket office couldn't/wouldn't help, the service desk couldn't help, the place they sent me to use a computer terminal to check to see if the email had arrived wouldn't let me in. So there I was stuck in a foreign country not speaking the language with 20 minutes before the train.

Solution after a lot of swearing out loud to stop me crying was to go and buy another ticket and blow the expense. That bit was easy, but I felt wrung out by having to deal with the language barrier and a fair amount of stubbornness on behalf of the German women I encountered.

But other than that the trip was wonderful all round. I picked my lovely niece up in Liverpool and we went to the airport talking and never stopped till I left her on Monday morning. We were in a rather smooth boutique hotel in Potsdam Strasse right next door to U bahn station (subway). The first night we just wandered out of the hotel and found this lovely place to eat, pork with blue cheese sauce, yummy. Then on to a cocktail bar. It was such a nice evening that we sat outside at both places. And for when anyone started to get chilly all the bars in Berlin are equipped with blankets to wrap up in and stay outside.

The next day found us having klein frustuck at a bar (bread and jam and coffee) before we hit the main sights.

First stop was the Holocaust Memorial, it is an awe inspiring place, concrete block after concrete block of various sizes taking up a large prime site in the centre of Berlin.

The weather was fantastic on Saturday and we went on to the Brandenburg Tor (gate) second photo .... yes I've got them in the wrong order but hey who cares.

We also went up the the top of the Reichstag (government building) and into the dome, there is a walkway all the way to the top and another back down again, the views over Berlin are spectacular. And we booked a table at the restaurant beside the dome for Sunday breakfast(top picture)



German breakfast of cold meats, bread, eggs, cheese, jam, orange juice and coffee- fabulous!



Me posing in front of the Brandenburg Tor



Once I'd got to Geli's first stop was the beach, taking the very lovely Senor Paco for a walk with us. The sea was reasonably warm, but just too rough to swim in. I'm not a strong swimmer and so felt that caution was the best policy, although I did have my costume half on just in case swimming was possible.



Geli had been blogging recently about her chocolate cake and I'd put in a request for some cake..... I hadn't expected a whole cake just for me, and at every opportunity I was to be found eating more of it. Although Geli did end up freezing half of it for her students.

Her students all turned up to have conversation with me, and as ever, when I'm abroad I felt ashamed of how ignorant I am at languages, as all the students spoke better English than I did German. Geli did spend time teaching me to, so I can now ask if a German can speak English in German, and I have to say I got a better response than when I said it in English!!!



On my last day there we went to Poland, about 8 miles away! And Geli had primed me on how to introduce myself to her Polish friend, who was amazed when I greeted her in her own language. Eva insisted we share food with her and her family, which was lovely. And then we went back onto the beach, but this time I'm paddling in the Baltic in Poland.

Geli has written about our time together on her blog, and I couldn't put it any better myself about how well we got on. It was like being with a friend I've known for ever and I was so comfortable that I felt at home.

I felt very proud of myself for having dealt with this trip, it's one thing for me to go to America, I can speak the language, but to put myself out there and succeed in so doing is something I never thought I'd be able to do in a country where I communicated, outside of being with Geli, by sign language and pigeon English/German.

So where's next......... Well actually I know, but won't say till it's all booked, but I'm really going to have to learn to speak German now!

Pictures tonight ,words later.

The Holocaust Memorial



The Dome at the top of the Reichstag, designed by Norman Foster



Very long scary U bahn thats open all the way down and you watch the train go round the bends



Utterly amazing railway station on six levels with trains on three of them.



A fishing boat preparing to leave the shore on the Baltic sea in Usedom.



Sea that was fine for paddling, but too rough for swimming.


Too tired to write words tonight.
Going to my friend's funeral tomorrow
Will be back at the weekend for words here and emails for those that get them.

Berlin, Usedom, what another holiday.....

This is a quick post, as I've got to clean the house. I'm going away and this means leaving the house as if the Queen is going to pop round whilst I'm away, for a cup of tea. Which is plainly a daft idea cause Alex is going to be here and he wouldn't know the Queen from any other old lady.

But in my weird thinking is that if I leave it clean and tidy I can demand that I come back to finding it the same way. Plus the house would be knee deep in dog hair if I don't do something about it today.

And when I get back late Thursday night I won't have time to sort the house out, I'll only have time to yell at Alex to do it on Friday when I go off sadly to my friend's funeral.

I'm hoping that by that Saturday to have some viewers booked in, so I can always get up at 6am to sort the house out then. And it would give a certain pleasure if Alex hasn't cleaned the house to turf him out of bed at 10.30 so I can show people his bedroom!!!

So where am I going.... well two places, I start off having a weekend in Berlin with my extremely glamorous niece, we're staying in a hotel on /near Potsdam. This will be a weekend of me being able to get alot of reading down as I wait for her to get ready. This is one woman who enjoys the whole girly thing and takes hours getting it sorted.Then according to her mother once she is ready watch out Berlin as she goes off at a frenetic pace, which suits me.

Then Monday morning I say goodbye to her, she catches a plane back later that day and I get myself to the main train station and get on a train to Anklam, which is on the the way to the Baltic sea. I get picked up there and meet Angela for the first time. And we have a two hour drive to Usedom to meet Paco, eat chocolate cake (she's promised me some!) and start talking and walking, and walking and talking till I come home on Thursday.

Since she said she is still swimming and I'm British and we swim in ridiculously cold sea I'll take my cozzie just in case, we may go into Poland,we may sit in the garden, I might meet Hans on Wednesday and we'll definitely be with Paco and I'll be doing the English conversation with Geli's pupils.

All of this means you can envy me my holiday, commiserate about the funeral and hope for viewers before I return with stories and no doubt pics.

xx

PS the pic is of a beach in North Wales on Boxing Day a few years ago, but it's as close to Usedom as any of my photos get at the moment!

Lets hear it for the Good Mother Button and not the Mother Guilt Button

Ok tonight it got pressed again, and all the usual feelings rushed through me as to how useless I am, what a bad mother.....

Then I thought, wait a minute that's not true, so doing what I find difficult, I phoned a friend for a chat.... Jenny's children are in their 30s now, and happily married with all their teenage angst long gone. But I knew she would just listen as I poured out my sorrow.

So what happened for these feelings to be doing my head in again? Well have a guess who was involved? I came up with a suggestion for him about spreading his network wider to look for a job, and suggested he should start tomorrow. This of course was ungraciously received, as are all messages like this. I tried to continue the conversation, without raising to the bait of his special nasty voice that he uses just on me.

He countered my attempted discussion by throwing at me.... "You won't have to put up with me, your selling the house so you can get away from me." I rejected this idea saying I was leaving cause it was time for me to have my own life back. He reiterated his comment, announced he was going out and went.

All of this a fairly normal exchange when I try getting Alex to motivate himself. He gets pissed off and resentful and I can end up having many differing emotions. And today as he left the house the button that got pushed was what I call the mother guilt button.

This button is given to mothers when they first deliver their babies, it comes straight from the wicked fairy, as a punishment for what I'm not sure, but it is definitely a punishment.

It's the place mothers go when they don't do what their children want of them. It starts when they are tiny, about two usually, and the little treasures are in the supermarket with us, whilst we try and do the weeks shop. And just when we think we've got it covered, they start wanting something, could be sweeties, could be a toy, could be well anything at all. And suddenly we are the world's worst mother as the little angel has the temper tantrum form hell. Screaming that we don't love them.

Now all good mother's know that this is a passing phase...... Right how did we fall for that line then??? And we calmly explain to the cherub that if they behave, i.e. stop showing us up, then we will reward their good behaviour with a treat. Oh big big mistake, we should have left them screaming on the floor and let someone else deal with them, whilst we go off and have a comforting cream cake and double brandy.


But no, we fall for it anything to please our little precious, they then become like vampire bats, sucking the life blood out of us. If you loved me, you'd let me have those trainers, if you loved me, you'd let me stay up late and watch the TV, if you loved me, really loved me you'd let me go out to the party and not come home till midnight. And all of this before they are three!

And every time we make a stand and say NO, they the little darlings sulk and feel hard done to, making sure that we know what terrible mothers we are. Guess what, we buy it, we hate ourselves for not giving them the earth. After all they are our children,we made them, we have poured our love and care into them. Surely they deserve everything we can give them.......

At this point any sensible mother should give the little dumpling a thick ear and send them to bed with only a bowl of gruel, but do we do that, do we heck as like! No we beat ourselves up for not being good enough mothers.

Now I'm sure there are loads of other buttons out there for fathers, wives, husbands siblings, partners, but tonight it's my Mother guilt button that has been pressed.

It has a direct line to my heart, it is most certainly not logical, it is an emotional wet blanket that wraps its way round me and makes me feel inadequate, as if, I was a good enough mother I'd stay here in this house until my own sweet little treasure is ready to leave.

Thank God for friends who know what you're talking about, who can just allow through talking for the sensible side to reassert itself and say,... Whoa just wait a minute Mandy, you are a good mother you have always been a good mother, even on bad days, you were doing your best.

And this little horror is just using emotional blackmail cause he's scared of standing on his own two feet..... And you staying here would always prevent that happening and that is NOT GOOD MOTHERING!!!!!

Plus it's your time now.....

So taking that button and shoving it back in the cupboard, knowing that it's my job as a mother to always feel guilt for some reason or another. Or more healthily to know that I'm doing the best I can and that is good enough. And stuff the guilt where the sun don't shine cause I'm not going to wear it like a hair shirt at all.

I have to toughen up here,and in so doing this tough love of myself then I can allow my son to develop and mature and stop thinking he's two and can have the bag of sweeties, just cause he can scream louder than me.

Domestic Goddess... oh yeah!

I've spent the weekend being a Domestic Goddess. Because I have such itchy feet, and a yearning to sort out a new house, and there have been no viewers this weekend, I decided I needed to do something to feel better. So, as there is nothing to do in this house except leave it, I thought making something for the future would be good.

With all the cleaning that has been going on I'd washed the cushion covers in my sitting room, to reduce the odour'd'dog that permeates any ones house that has such a creature lurking around. In so washing them, a couple of them ripped..... so that's what my project would be, shopping, making and then enjoying my labours.

So Thursday found me pouring over fabric, I knew what sort of fabric I wanted, just not what colour. Decision made home I went home jiggity jog......

This has meant that yesterday and today I've almost done nothing else except make cushions by hand. I don't have a sewing machine, and even if I did I wouldn't use it. My memories of Mrs Taylor trying to teach me to use one at school still bring me out in a cold sweat. I was utterly useless at sewing, in fact I was so bad, that back in the day, our school exams were GCSEs and CSEs. The CSEs were for not so bright kids, and if you got grade 1 it was equivalent to a GCSE. In needlework I got grade 5!!!! And you really couldn't get any more stupid than that. In fact I probably got grade 5 cause I showed up, rather than any awful work I did.

What is strange though is the dress I attempted to make, had a skirt to it that is still a firm favourite with me. I love skirts that are fitted on the waist and then the panels flair out, so there is a lot of material in the skirt for twirling in.

But I did learn to sew by hand courtesy of my Mum. And nowadays it's a skill that I'm proud of. One of the things about having a mastectomy, is that I don't generally like the special underwear available, so I buy a lot of the same bra in different colours when I visit America and go to Victoria's Secret, cause they are pretty and do the job of covering me up properly. Then I sew with extremely tiny stitches a pocket on the back so my prosthesis can go in.The material I use is part of an old and soft bed sheet in lilac, which I think if you've got to have a pocket, is as good as it gets.

So placing the fabric out on the floor, Trix decided several times to help by sitting in the middle of it. Unfortunately there is no pic of this cause all it did was make me cross. But she continued to want to help so sat either on the cushions piled on the floor awaiting sewing or on top of my feet whilst I sewed.



The cushions I've made have come in three sorts, deep dark purple corduroy as in the little ones here on my antique Lloyd Loom chair. This is where I sit to have breakfast in the conservatory window. And probably all other meals if I'm alone as it is a good place to sit. And allows me to concentrate on eating and enjoying my food rather than mindlessly sitting in front of the box.



Purple corduroy and lilac silk compliment my Grandmothers garden chairs, that never go in the garden anymore! They are fragile and I live in dread of the bottoms splitting, so the cushions take up so much space that no one will think of sitting on them!!!



And finally to my Great Grandmothers sofa, that when I was a child lived in my Grandma's house in the nursery. Apparently my Dad used to do his courting on it, and it is only luck that I wasn't conceived on it!!! I've owned this sofa now for thirty years. Every move I ever made it's come along. I've had it recovered twice, it really needs doing again, but I don't have a spare £1000 to spend on getting it sorted. So instead it now has a collection of sea green and lilac silk cushions. All of which are placed just so. Problem is it all looks so beautiful in my eyes, will I be able to bring myself to sit on it and make a mess of the cushions!!!!!



So now I've finished being a domestic goddess I've got to get back to being nursemaid, Alex has returned with a tattoo and flu!!! One I can help with and the other just makes me sigh!

All of which means that I'll be eating my roast beef all my myself in amongst my new cushions as he languishes upstairs and I can enjoy looking at them whilst tucking in. As he's not eating, so there's food to spare if you can get round here by 3pm.

Give and take

Yesterday I got told off very nicely, cause I was being vague and not answering a question. I was being invited to go and visit a friend. She'd said three times I should go and visit, and I'd not picked the idea up at all. And it wasn't because I didn't want to it's far more complex than that.In the end she was very organised about it and clear about what she was asking, and I accepted with pleasure

I am very good at giving, whether personally of professionally. I'm always organising things for my friends, outings, meals, whatever. I have two sons who would get the coat off my back if they needed it. I give out endlessly to my sister and her family. I give of myself in my job all the time. I work very hard to help people feel differently about themselves. I spend happy hours when driving thinking of who I would give money to if I won a million pounds. I rarely think about what I'd do with the money I'd keep, except vaguely about what would be enough to live on.

But I am absolutely lousy at being given to. I get embarrassed, I believe I'm not worthy. I can't believe that people like me enough to want to give to me. I hook into this guilt stuff about .... if they only knew me, they'd not really want to give to me. It's my job to give and not to take. And on and on I go inside reciting this drivel.

And yet I also know that without question I have a lot of very wonderful friends. They are not my friends cause they feel sorry for me, they are not my friends cause they can exploit me, they are not my friends because I'm a soft touch.

They are my friends because we have an equal relationship of give and take, as all true relationships should have. I listen to them in times of trouble and they do the same for me when I need support. All that is given and understood.

So why the bloody hell do I go to this place of being unworthy. It's not new, in fact compared to a while back I'm much better at believing I am worthy, particularly as my proper name Amanda actually means worthy of love and I have battled with myself to buy into it's meaning in the last couple of years.

I really don't know the answer as to why I go to this daft place, there are lots of contributory factors which emphasise the need to give. I was brought up my parents to look after my little sister and I still do, as I seem to have so much more than her, whether it's inner security or the ability to buy a new moisturiser. As a child I was encouraged to look after the home, I was doing the family ironing by 12 years old, as my mum had a really bad back and found it difficult.I learnt to massage my Mum's back at about the same age. There were expectations on me as the eldest to be responsible and generous with myself.

I went into nursing, now there's a place of not mattering, as it is the nurse's job to care without question. Whether they are caring for the patient or doing the doctors bidding.(I will accept the latter may have changed in the 30 years since I worked in a general hospital!!)

I have worked my entire life in environments where it is my job to give, caring for others. I wouldn't by the way, swop it for anything, I do have the worlds best job!

But the downside is an almost life long training in not expecting to be given to, and an ability to give. What a lot of my clients are amazed at is, that is it they who are givers and when they find they have no-one to give to them, they end up in therapy. It's not healthy not to be able to ask for help.

And I know that sometimes I yearn for the phone to ring, and that I'm incapable of picking it up and saying help. My friends say phone anytime, we're here for you. And I simply can't do it, until I'm so desperate and I have no choice. I cannot easily phone people up. And, as in recently, without fail when people have phoned me I get in my question first, as to how they are. As if my vulnerability doesn't need any space, even though that's why they've phoned me in the first place!!!

And yet I know that I am loved, and that people would help me as much as they are able day or night, it's just so nonsensical how I tie myself up in these knots of not mattering, when I know I do. And even more importantly, if I know I love giving, then I really don't have the right to deny others to give to me, without my hooking into a really daft agenda.

So if you have said phone me and I haven't it's not that I haven't wanted to, it's just..... well you know!