Diary of a sleepless hamster


Pretty much all of us have had it at some time or other right?? Too much candy, childhood slapdash teeth brushing and the cavities appear. Still through my grown up years i’d gotten pretty good at looking after my pearly whites and for the most part came out of the dentists pretty pleased with myself needing little more than the old polish. Until along came the appearance of wisdom teeth and one at the bottom put a dirty great crack in the tooth next to it trying to make room to come through.

Waking some days later in the middle of the night yowling in pain as my whole jaw felt like it was going to explode i staggered out of bed and hurtled in the direction of the medicine box for pain relief. Maybe i have some weird immune system because an hour later these were having no effect despite the fact i never usually take them and i had resorted to holding my pillow to my face rocking backwards and forwards and wailing into it.No, there is no scientific reason why this should work but it helps a little as does sticking your fingers in your ears and repeating ‘it doesnt hurt, it doesn’t hurt’ whilst walking round in circles. Honest!!

I did try sticking my fingers in my ears and humming but it wasnt as effective i kept losing concentration and humming the wrong song!! By 8am and still awake i would’ve been quite happy to do my own dentistry and yank the thing out myself but intead howled down the phone to an appropriately sympathetic secretary.Some time later i dutifully trotted off to the dentist heart going pitter patter all the way despite my best attempts to drown it out with Lifehouse blaring out on my ipod. 

Yes like many i am absolutely petrified of the dentist, i have no idea why but i am!! So sitting outside the dentists office humming to myself, wincing at the distant sound of a drill and calmly repeating in my head..you cant hear that..no no you can’t hear that la la la you cant hear that. Trying desperately to breath through my mouth so as not to breath in the dentists smell and all the while my heart is going pitty patter..thump thump thump…..THUMP!! Now my dentist is lovely, very sympathetic and to her credit did not laugh when i shot out of the chair and hurtled across the room screeching DONT TOUCH IT!!’ after she asked if she could have a look. I guess she is used to the me type of patients because she put down that evil little hook they stab your teeth with and promised to be careful. Ten minutes later with diagnosis of abcess and root canal echoing in my ears i again shot out of the chair very quickly blurting ”prescription please” when offered the choice of drilling and dressing or prescription antibiotics and another appointment. 

So one day later and one very sleepless night filled with more yowling into a pillow and wearing circular patterns in the carpet and i resemble a mad hamster. My tooth feels like it is the size of a small red hot melon into my mouth and i have taken the wise decision to avoid all human contact for everyones safety since i have the tendency to growl in pain like any wounded animal. Were i to hop up and down i am most sure i should rattle like a bag of marbles due to the vast array of various medications languishing in various states of decay within my stomach. 

So as bedtime draws closer i swallow another dose of medication and pray for a better nights sleep and just incase i’m practising a new song and debating adding hamster food to my weekly shop. As the words of a poem from my childhood echo in my ears i cant help but smile as i leave you with Pam….

Pam AyresOh, I wish I’d looked after me teeth,
And spotted the perils beneath,
All the toffees I chewed,
And the sweet sticky food,
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me teeth.I wish I’d been that much more willin’
When I had more tooth there than fillin’
To pass up gobstoppers,
From respect to me choppers
And to buy something else with me shillin’.

When I think of the lollies I licked,
And the liquorice allsorts I picked,
Sherbet dabs, big and little,
All that hard peanut brittle,
My conscience gets horribly pricked.

My Mother, she told me no end,
“If you got a tooth, you got a friend”
I was young then, and careless,
My toothbrush was hairless,
I never had much time to spend.

Oh I showed them the toothpaste all right,
I flashed it about late at night,
But up-and-down brushin’
And pokin’ and fussin’
Didn’t seem worth the time… I could bite!

If I’d known I was paving the way,
To cavities, caps and decay,
The murder of fiIlin’s
Injections and drillin’s
I’d have thrown all me sherbet away.

So I lay in the old dentist’s chair,
And I gaze up his nose in despair,
And his drill it do whine,
In these molars of mine,
“Two amalgum,” he’ll say, “for in there.”

How I laughed at my Mother’s false teeth,
As they foamed in the waters beneath,
But now comes the reckonin’
It’s me they are beckonin’
Oh, I wish I’d looked after me teeth.


A week in the life of the obsessively obsessive

“The cure for an obsession is to get another one” Mason Cooley

I never wanted to admit that i’m obsessive. To me obsession smacks of ‘Fatal Attraction’ or ‘Single white Female’ you know the stalker kind of thing and i’m not like that. But this week i’ve had to face the fact i do get rather obsessive about things and although this invariably gets things done i sometimes wish i could be a little more lackadaisical about things instead. So take this week….

Obsession 1) The Painting

This was meant to be just freshening up the paint on the woodwork in my small downstairs hallway and in the beginning this was all i intended it to be BUT the little mad demon took over as soon as the paintbrush touched my hand and every bit of woodwork apart from inside of the bedrooms got painted. ALL of it, every spindle of the staircase, every door frame and every skirting board. 11pm and i’m still there painting away (and yes i obsessively did it properly undercoat and all) Two days later sitting cross legged on the top landing at 7am sanding away when the door flings open and a bleary eyed son growls ”MUM!!! what the hell are you doing you woke me up!!”  Okay so he’s a dormouse at the best of times but even i had to look sheepish and slink off downstairs. Admittedly i did give it a rest yesterday but sitting here now i can here the unpainted bits calling me from upstairs……paint me, paint meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Obsession 2) The diet

Okay so i’m back on the diet wagon again, back on the groundhog day roller coaster and yet again vowing that once i reach my goal I’ll stay there and not let it slide. And the odd thing is i actually do MEAN it. But then i meant it every other time too, i’m nothing if not sincere. I just happen to have all the willpower of a bunny in mating season most of the time. That coupled with the fact that biscuits personally call my name means i’m pretty much on my way down the slide as soon as i get to the top. What i DO get obsessive about is the diet itself, admittedly this takes me a few days to get my head around but then it just clicks and i get obsessive. Thats where i’m at right now, weighing myself every morning, beating myself up if i dont lose any weight and rigidly sticking to my calorie intake with all the dedication of an olympic athlete. Sure its paying off, stepping on the scales this morning and seeing the total flick round to 6lbs down for the week made me shriek with joy, already picturing myself wearing my favourite but too small pair of jeans. Still having another 10lbs to go means the obsession merry go round is still spinning and i havent figured out what i’m going to do when i get to my goal. Hmmmmmmmm……..

Obsession 3) Ally Mcbeal

I love this show!! I think it appeals so much because in a lot of ways she is ME!! okay so im not a 27 year old lawyer who is far from having a single excess pound but the rest i can SO relate. Now admittedly i dont dance around my lounge with a dancing baby but yes i do dance around my lounge(with a cushion) i DO own those kinds of pyjamas and i do lament about my love life, meet lots of Mr Wrongs and have a serious case of foot in mouth. I love this show and come 10pm sees me tucked up in bed chuckling away at her antics and sighing wistfully at her long lost love affair with childhood sweetheart Billy. If only my life were so interesting right? Hey i could even live with the dancing baby thing if i had to. But for now Ally and i are keeping each other company and mourning our less than perfect romantic lives…..maybe one day right?

Obsession 4)  Making coffee

I’m scatty, i confess it freely yet strangely i have a fantastically good memory. I just get distracted or obsessed with some things and forget about others. This week its coffee!! I’ve pretty much lost count of how many cups of coffee i have made this week but the thing is im not even drinking half of them!! I’m weird i rarely drink a whole cup of coffee anyway and DD1 used to complain when she lived at home that there were always third full cups lying around and i’d be off making another. Lately however due to obsessions and latent scattiness i seem to be accumulating rather more leftover coffee than usual, i just keep forgetting i’ve made one and then i’ll glance down and exclaim ‘oh where did that come from?’  Of course waste not want not i tried microwaving them instead of making fresh but anyone who’s done that will know how gross it is so that stopped pretty quickly. My daughter suggested i only make half a cup if i wasnt going to drink it all but the thing is i would STILL leave some…i have no ideal why?? Its a foible of mine. So i’m trying to wean myself away from the coffee ritual and trying to go for the diet coke instead, sure i know its bad for me but i haven’t drunk soda in years so i dont think a little bit will hurt. And as i type this the kettle suddenly comes to a boil and pings off…………….oh dear!

Obsession 5) Pineapple

I never used to like pineapple, i went 42 whole years hating the stuff and picking it from out of evey meal it was ever served up in. I totally adore fruits like mango, nectarines and my particular favourite the persimmon but i couldnt abide pineapple. Actually the truth was i’d never eaten fresh pineapple and one day not so long ago encountering fresh pineapple in my grocery delivery instead of my beloved mango  i was horrifed but loathe to waste it so decided to eat it anyway. Boy was i in for a surprise!! A most of you know fresh pineapple is totally different to the gross canned variety and i was so surprised i ate the lot then went right out and bough some more. And so began my addiction, i easily eat up to 1.5kg a day (yes a lot i know) and i admit i gave myself a huge tummy ache last week sitting and eating half a kilo in one go but i totally adore the stuff and would quite happily live on just that if it wasnt so unhealthy. Of course there are down sides and the worst thing is it makes you pee, like forever!! Its mostly water so what goes in has to come back out, usually at 3am which is pretty inconvenient and is driving my son crazy as i clatter into a dozen things on my way to the bathroom for the third time that night. Maybe i’ll get bored eventually. And maybe not….


So as it goes i figure i’m pretty obsessive yes? Oh well next obsession please….

Charity begins at home

I’m a hoarder! there i said it.

Actually perhaps that would’ve been more effective in some addicts group where i stand up and say ”Hi i’m Amanda and i’m a hoarder”

The truth is i’m actually a bit of a contradiction for although i like to hoard i’m also exceptionally tidy and get rather obsessive about clutter being on view. Mess bugs me, i mean REALLY bugs me in a ‘hey i’m going to spoil your day’ kind of way. So You’d never guess that somewhere lurking away i have a zillion things waiting to tumble from cupboards and crammed so high under the bed that it barely stands on its own four feet. I know i dont need 40 pairs of jeans and 50 pairs of boots/ shoes but i like them! Sure i have a kindle and i dont need the hundreds of books tucked into dozens of small spaces around the room and nor do i need my own personal blockbusters store but who cares i want one!!

But sometimes even i have to admit that things are getting out of hand and stuff just isnt going to be used, hey if it was i wouldnt have replaced it with something better right?? So yesterday i decided a really good clear out was in order and figured i’d have a ruthless sort through and donate to charity. Some time later with a large pile of belongings building small walls around me i cringed in horror as i sorted through a long untouched CD collection. All of my music is on my pc so none of them ever get played. More to the point did i really go out and buy some of this stuff??!!. Backstreet boys, nsync, kylie minogue, steps(okay that one,  that’s definitely not mine!!) Okay one big charity bag coming up!!

Movie promo tshirts, competition prizes from my comping days, books, old mp3 players, the list goes on and on and the bags steadily grew. That bed throw i hated( well it looked okay in the store!) pretty but redundant laundry basket cluttering up the bottom of the stairs and that lamp i replaced ages ago. Oh it grew and grew. Coming down for lunch my son tripped over a playstation cable and surveyed the mess before exclaiming loudly ”i didnt hear the bomb drop!” 

Don’t you just love sarcasm!! Actually confession time i think he gets it from me, sarcastic humour seems to run in our family and irony whilst bypassing many is definitely not lost on us!!

Hours and hours later i had the mini mountain sorted and the ‘okay i’ll part with it if you prise it from my grip’ pile was barring the way out of my front door. Having wheedled darling son into volunteering to take it to the charity shop i did make a concession and agree to let him go when it was dark and give in to his refusal to carry a large dried flower arrangement.Okay i can see his point a teenager doesnt want to be seen wandering through town with mummys dried flowers, im not that harsh. 

So as my contribution to charity disappeared up the road i sat myself down with the only trunk in the house that will never be cleared out. My memory chest. Years and years of special memories,  love letters, gifts, even train tickets from special days out with special people. My ‘something to look back on when i am old’ box.  And as i cleaned off the dust i had to smile at an old painted hand print from when my youngest was small, poem about sticky hand prints all long ago faded as she leaves in a cloud of perfume calling a goodbye over her shoulder. But i have only to open my trunk and remember, a lifetime of special memories.Some things are just worth hoarding..arent they.


One Lovely blog Award


okay really unladylike shriek here for the very lovely Marsha Lee of http://tchistorygal.wordpress.com/about/  has awarded me the Lovely Blog award!! I’d like to thank a certain vampire, my kids, the cats, the fact my butt weighs me down so i have to do something while im sitting on it, my parents for making me dysfunctionally interesting and my crazy brain that has no cut off switch between it and my mouth 😀

Okay seriously though its always flattering when someone wants to read your waffling and better still if they actually like it so a huge thankyou to anyone who sticks with me. 

As per the rules i have to

1) Thank the person who nominated me( see above) and please go follow Marsha’s blog!!

2) Tell you 7 things about me(again) okay…

1) I once smashed my sisters teeth by tying her feet to the washing pole with a skipping rope and telling her we were playing indians. She tipped forward trying to escape and hit her face on the floor OOPS!!

2) I talk to inanimate objects and frequently reprimand my vacuum cleaner

3) I sleep on my stomach like a drunken starfish

4) i own 144 pairs of knickers…..really! 

5) I’m actually a blonde

6) i have ruined at least 5 mobile phones because i keep knocking them in my coffee

7) i talk too much…………….no really??

3) I have to nominate other bloggers whose blogs i find inspiring or admire 

Okay here i stumble a bit for i haven’t managed to lock up a massive amount of blogs that i follow yet but i shall nominate those i can

http://tchistorygal.wordpress.com/about/  Yes i have to nominate back for this lady is on my wavelength and i love reading her blog!! 

http://skyeblaine.wordpress.com/     Amrita Skye blaine.. love this blog so varied and well written!! puts my little burble to shame

http://betweenfearandlove.com/     such a positive upbeat blog another i like to keep up with

http://dontbiteyourtongue.wordpress.com/    what can i say!! dont bite your tongue….definitely a good reason

4) Let all the people know that i have nominated them by commenting on their pages…….off to do that now!! 

Lastly and not required but a big thankyou to all those who suffer my ramblings in pained silence. keep reading and i shall keep blogging!!

40 something dating in a 20 something world


That’s what they used to call us although i am not so sure of the terminology now. More often applied to those 30 something career women not ready to surrender their freedom and trade in their solo lives for one of domestic bliss. Eventually just coming to symbolise anyone not in a relationship.

Yup, cue my 40s and my butt is very firmly back upon the shelf , legs swinging as i survey the world from my lofty perch. I find it very strange being up here, never really having been in the dating game i find my very few relationships have all been long term ones all resulting from existing friendships. Yes what can i say, i’ve dated my friends!!

So reaching early 40s and finding with glee that life actually does begin there i waved hello to singledom and   hauled my way up onto this shelf of mine and pondered what to do. It was definitely clear that in my somewhat rural location i was unlikely to meet the man of my dreams unless i underwent a radical personality change and swapped my pretty clothes for either wellies or a football shirt. Okay cue big shudder here..definitely not for me!!

Well it seemed there was nothing for it and i was going to have to take a paddle in the online world of dating which worried me for i had always imagined them to be the last resort of the desperate but feeling pretty gung ho i shrugged and figured what the heck what can i lose??  So after much nail tapping i came up with a profile blurb and then harassed Dear Daughter number 1 over the question of photos for i did not wish to be one of those women guilty of arriving for a date only to look 15 years older than my photo. I am SERIOUSLY lucky here for through a combination of good genes (thankyou parents for something at least) and great skincare routine i can easily pass for early 30s.

Me: (brandishing photo) does this look like me??

DD1: yes mom

Me: (waving photo under DD1’s nose) are you sure it looks like me??

DD1: YES mother it looks like you same as it did 5 minutes ago

Me: Are you REALLY SURE it looks like me i mean i dont want to be posting out of date photos??

DD1: MOTHER!!!! YES!!! it looks like you just put it on there….OKAY!!!

Okay so photo went onto the profile and i nervously sat and waited for Kiefer Sutherland to spot my youthfully witty self and declare me the woman of his dreams. Now i had very clearly stated in my profile i did not wish to date anyone more than 5 years older than myself, i’ve always been able to get away with dating men four or five years younger than myself. Generally i find men in their late thirties still have a tendency to take care of themselves yet still have that maturity that makes them very dateable. So profile posted i wandered off returning later to an email saying you have 7566 messages. Okay so i’m stretching the truth here but there were a pleasing amount of replies which was rather flatterering.

Two hours later peering at a photo of a gentleman i had presumed to be in his 50s i gaped in surprise..really?? You’re 40??

Trawling further i began to notice a trend, for these men and their profiles seemed pretty much of a muchness to me, all looked considerably older, all balding and all definitely hadnt taken care of themselves!! I pondered over what it was that made these men think that sullen faced passport photos or blurry out of date photos of them sprawled on a sofa clutching a beer were designed to snare them the woman of their dreams. Personally i am very attracted to intelligent men and stated so on my profile yet all too often some badly spelt  almost illiterate missive would land itself into my inbox leaving me howling in frustration.

Of course i was flattered, you cannot help but be so when people are interested and i politely thanked each one. BIG MISTAKE!!  Men i was definitely not interested in took my politeness for interest and i had to extricate myself from a sticky situation on several occasions.Three months later and one particular guy still winks at me daily despite my lack of reply. A most unfortunately unattractive man he, to my eyes, much resembles those gurners of old. I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that men in their 40s just dont take care of themselves these days unless they happen to be famous!!

Actually that isnt quite true for my best friend is of this age group and blessed with the same youthful genes as i. Adorably handsome with an impish charm and melting chocolate eyes he is most defintely not of the 40 something mould i was coming to experience. Although knowing him as i do he is no doubt at this point blushing furiously, protesting loudly and hiding under the bed with embarrassment. Having both doomed ourself to singledom we made a pact, he and i, that should we both be single come age 60 we shall run off and marry each other thus saving ourselves from being sad old people. Actually he thinks i was joking there but i did not like to confess that i already have a booking at the local county court for 2029!! Dum dum de dum……..

So joking aside and back to the world of dating, having weeded out a few possibilities i set about doing the meet and greet roundabout and oh boy was i in for an enlightening experience. They say women are guilty of artistic license?? well having clocked up 10 ‘meets’ so far only two actually looked anything like their photos, the others being of the ’15 years older than my photo’ ilk that i had tried so hard to avoid myself. My heart sank as each much older balding man shuffled towards me hands outstretched most clearly interested and more than happy to show it. 

With each meet the list of ‘oh no’s’ grew as i added to it ones that reminded me of my father and the one who tried to dictate to me on a first date. Cue hackles firmly raised for i do not if anything take well to being bossed around. Two that i walked past finding them totally unrecognisable joined the heap along with sexual innuendo guy and bad oral hygiene guy. So now as my inbox rocks to the tunes of the over 50s and i find myself the darling of the over 60s i despair of meeting Mr right and ponder if this dating game is for me. 

Sitting firmly on my shelf surveying the world from my lofty perch i sigh wistfully and wait for a handsome prince with intellect enough to get me down from here to come along and join me. And in the meantime i ping back another email to the meltingly handsome Miguel in Spain and consider moving to warmer climes where those romantic romeos really do look their age. 


                                                 Yes me

Just Singing in the Rain

I’ve always had a saying, one i invented myself but pretty much sums up the way i see the world…


Do i believe it? Yes of course i do. Call me optimistic, unrealistic, whatever you choose for i shall not mind at all. Yes i have been told i have a Pollyanna attitude to life but i have always had a steadfast refusal to be anything less than positive and so far this has served me pretty well. 

I remember a year ago, one very grey stormy day when the rain fell in sheets and raindrops bounced upon the pavement looking for all the world like they were trying to get back where they came from. I waited and waited hoping that it would ease and i could make a mad dash on an unavoidable errand but it didn’t stop. It rained and rained and rained. It pretty much summed it all up when i peered out of my window and saw a small duck sheltering under the tree at the bottom of my garden.

Regardless of this i had no choice but to leave the warm dry comfort of my home and battle the weather but then i stopped and thought that hey, i had no choice so i could either smile and make the best of it or be miserable and make the whole thing ten times worse. 

Half an hour later with most colourful umbrella twirling around over my head i was skipping through the puddles humming ‘Singing in the Rain’  watching all the unsmiling faces huddled into coats, head down against the rain and i had to smile and shake my head for i actually wasn’t minding it so much at that point. Yes my socks were wet and yes a stray raindrop was trickling down my nose but it made me laugh and i shook my wet head crazily much in the manner of a very soggy puppy. 

Humming my way through the puddles i was slightly startled out of my skip and sing routine, which amazingly for me was rather in tune, by a hand on my arm and i splashed to a stop . An elderly gentleman clutched my sleeve,rain running down his cap and disappearing into his collar, and smiled at me. ”Do you know” he said to me ”yours is the only smiling face i have seen today and you’ve made my day”. Of course i beamed at him and explained my philosophy and he chuckled and thanked me.

As he shuffled off i stood and listened for as he walked i could faintly hear him humming…Singing in the Rain.

I often remember that elderly gentleman and i feel glad that i made him smile for had i given in to instinct i could so easily have been yet another gloomy face in an already gloomy sky. 

I may be a Pollyanna, but strangely i do not find this an insult but instead much of a compliment. And whenever lifes skies are grey i shall twirl my colourful umbrella, hum my little tune and smile at those that pass me by. For i have found that often that little ray of sunshine is just enough to lighten someones rainstorm and who knows you may just, if you’re lucky, make someones day. 

                                                 I’m singing in the rain
                                                Just singing in the rain
                                                 What a glorious feelin’
                                                     I’m happy again
                                               I’m laughing at clouds
                                                So dark up above
                                              The sun’s in my heart
                                              And I’m ready for love
                                         Let the stormy clouds chase
                                            Everyone from the place
                                             Come on with the rain
                                            I’ve a smile on my face
                                              I walk down the lane
                                              With a happy refrain
                                                   Just singin’,
                                              Singin’ in the rain


Lyrics courtesy of Arthur Freed

Spiders, heartbeats and the speed of an Olympic Panda

For someone who hates water i admit i turn into somewhat of a mermaid when it comes to my bath. You can keep your showers for me it has to be a very very deep, very bubbly bath. I’m definitely lucky there because my bath is quite large and if i bend my knees i can lie right down in it.

Call me strange but when i need to relax i lie there with just my face sticking out of the water, close my eyes and listen to my heartbeat. Did you know you can hear your heart beating under water?? Well you can..try it and see!!

So evening comes and i’m doing my usual listen to my heartbeat routine and i admit i do stay there for quite a while getting horrid prune like fingers but i can never quite summon up the will to drag my waterlogged behind out of the bath. Humming merrily and totally out of tune i have no idea why but something prompted me to open my eyes.


Oh then did i holler, for sitting teeth gnashing right above my nose was a HUGE tarantula. Now i know you’re all going to say spiders don’t have teeth and it probably wasn’t a tarantula since i live in England but hey this wasn’t your nose this blood thirsty arachnid was wickedly hovering above. This thing was big and i mean BIG!!

Anyone who tells you pandas cant run, its a lie!! With a speed that would’ve put Linford Christie to shame and a maneuver  that should’ve guaranteed me a place on the Olympic high jump team i shot out of my lovely bubble bath shrieking like a banshee. I hate spiders, typical woman i know but i’m terrified of them and whilst i would never hurt one it doesnt mean i want them within a hundred mile radius.

Normally i’m quite smug for if i catch one scuttling across my floor i plonk a glass over it and then slide something under the glass to keep it in whilst i hurtle for the door and run right to the top of next doors garden to get rid of it. Seriously you don’t think i’m fool enough to put it in mine do you??

Well suffice it to say there was no way i was getting back in that bath so i crept closer and slammed the bathroom door shut, dashing for the safety of my bedroom dripping soap bubbles as i went. Fleetingly i wondered what i was going to do when i needed to pee for nothing on earth could prompt me into the bathroom with a man eating spider in residence!! 

Two hours later frantic crossing of my legs was not helping the fact i needed to go and there was nothing for it but to brave the bathroom so i tiptoed upstairs and eased open the door heart hammering nineteen to the dozen. Trust me i’d have spotted that spider from fifty feet so alert was i, but worriedly on seeing nothing i scanned the ceiling wondering where it had gone.

Inching closer my heart almost stopped in relief for there floating on top of the water quite dead was the spider. Dead or not my hand was definitely not going into the water and i sped downstairs for a kitchen utensil and gingerly hooked the chain of the plug, yanking it out. Yes i was still terrified almost as though i expected it to suddenly arise from the dead saying ‘ah fooled you’

Still frantically crossing my legs i willed the water to drain faster for i’m sorry was not taking any chances and being caught with my trousers down when super spider decided to resurrect itself. Nervously i held my breath as the water drained then wailed in disbelief when spider stuck firmly in the plug hole ( i told you it was big!! ) Well there’s only so long a bladder can hold before you really have to go so there was nothing for it but to grab a toothbrush and quickly poke it through the hole.

Definitely wise i speedily rammed the plug into the hole before dumping the bathroom bin on top and dashing for the loo. Needless to say i dont close my eyes any more when i lie down in the water. I dont want to be caught napping when mommy spider comes looking for revenge!!

The Art of Being Bridget

I’ve never been much of a girl for ‘chick flicks’ .

Usually i find the sickly sweet  ‘boy meets girl, mishap, misunderstanding and all’s well that ends well’  predictability rather nauseating.Two perfect people with a few predictable stumbles along the way finally ending up together in some flowery perfect romance of the most unlikely kind. But this aside i find i have one exception, a great love for Helen Fielding’s book and further movie ‘Bridget Jones Diary’ 

Bridget appeals, is realistically imperfect and blunders her way through life with a literal, endearing charm that leaves you feeling like you just met your best friend.  Add to this the reserved charm of the oh so handsome Mr Darcy ( yes i confess it i have a huge crush on Colin Firth) and you have a book and movie most of us will laugh, cry and sigh wistfully along with right to the very end. 

Bridget is…..well, just Bridget!! You cannot help but love her and right from the start you root for her at every step of the way, cringing at her faux pas and cheering when she gets it right. Everything about Bridget is so very wrong and yet so very right. Who among us doesnt feel an affinity for those ‘big pants’ that we all pretend we do not own yet invariably have hidden in some furtive corner of a drawer. Don’t we all wish some handsome Mr Darcy-esque figure would adore all our failings and announce they like us just the way we are?? I for one certainly would!

Bridget tells it like it is, no frills or fripperies and i cannot not help but laugh for she is very like myself blurting out exactly what is on her mind with no thought of the consequences. And yes i too have gotten myself into many a scrape by doing exactly so. Although i confess i have never drunkenly wailed along to ‘all by myself’ not yet made blue soup i cannot help but feel so in tune with Bridget and laugh and cry along with her life. 

We mourn our weight, bewail our tragic love lives and vow every Monday that we will start a diary of our very own for failings or not we all want,  just like Bridget,  to be just the way we are and to be loved for it. 

Castles in the sand….a story of the homeless


“Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand: Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!”

(Quote by Edna St Vincent Millay)  

I used to love the sand, back when i was small. I loved nothing better than curling my toes into the sun baked warmth of it, feeling it clinging to my feet as i stood on the shore watching the waves roll in. Watching from afar you would have seen a family, mother setting out a picnic whilst children buried their father in the sand, happily squealing as dad wriggled free and chased them along the beach. 

That is what you would have seen, but appearances as we all well know can be very deceptive.

The truth of the matter was my childhood was about as far from happy as you could possibly get despite the chocolate box performances acted out in public by my parents. We, buoyed with relief, were happy for a short time to be free of the miseries and play along with the scenario and enjoy being carefree for a while.

But all performances eventually come to an end and behind the scenes the highs of the show are obliterated by the normal everyday humdrum that runs inbetween, a crashing low that comes far more frequently than those few happy moments. 

Rolling time forward and once again upon a beach i stand. This time there is no curling of toes nor shrieking of children’s laughter. No parents with picnics or to chase me along the sand as i scream with abandon. This time i am alone. And yet a familiar sense of relief, my long lost friend, flitting in and out of my 16 year old life far less frequently than i would have desired. 

As once so many years before i stand and watch the waves rushing towards the shore, creeping ever closer to my rather improperly shod feet and sigh, for this is now home.

How many of us have excitedly declared we should love to be free and sleep upon a beach and live a life so without care? And for a night that illusion was so for me but a beach in April is no place to call home and so very cold as most of you cannot imagine. No dream filled sleep lulled by the sound of the waves, instead a bone aching inclemency that dominates your waking thoughts. Thoughts only relieved by the intermittent awareness of a gnawing hunger that you know you have no hope of easing until morning.

Sand once so soft beneath your feet makes for a most uncomfortable pillow, the radiant warmth long since faded with the setting of the sun.

Morning whilst welcome for its warmth brings little relief, hurrying furtively into beach front conveniences for the best efforts of cleanliness that i could manage, for I always had such a distaste for being unkempt as to drive me in search of a bath. Ultimate shame in having to beg from those happy tourists aghast to find their idyll disturbed by such a sight. For sunshine strolls upon the sand are not a scenario often coupled with that of a child pleading for change. But to this, as with all other things, i became accustomed and if my sense of shame faded a little as the need to survive superseded all else my awareness of my situation did not.

Days filled with endless walking, nose pressed longingly against the window panes of shops selling all manner of colourful confectionary. The waft of seaside sustenance floating merrily on the breeze, so enticing for those with the means to indulge yet so frequently i was not. The sun sparkled appeal of coastal scenery quickly fades when seen so constantly and from a less than idealistic point of view, making days stretch out endlessly. Nothing changes. Day after day remains the same like some nightmarish groundhog day not so amusing when you are the one on such an endless wheel. 

Yes my castle in the sand was not so much a castle after all but for some weeks i was to call it home and be thankful for it. Until one day a hand reached out and opened the door and i stood upon a beach and waved my refuge goodbye. Even now encountering a beach at sunset small memories will creep in and remind me that it is not always such a paradise as it may seem.

                                                               Such a lifetime away yet i cannot stand,

                                                                   The feeling of my feet in sand.

inspiring blog?? Me??

I burble, i admit it.

I have a head full of inane drivel that climbs out of my ears and walks all over the page and half of the time i read my waffle and wonder if someone else wrote it. I had no idea i could write you see, im ordinary, I’m boring! I’m not famous nor do i live some fantastically intrepid lifestyle worthy of admiration and accolade but a very dear friend became my one man fan club and nudged and encouraged until i gave in and started a blog.  And initially this was what it was, i figured after a few entries he would admit i talk rubbish and let me take it down but i found i love doing it and more amazingly people wanted to read it! So this award i dedicate to my best friend Jay and the monster he created.

So today was pretty amazing, receiving a message from a fellow blogger  http://mammadee.wordpress.com/ (please all go follow her for she has a really awesome blog and a great writing style) saying i had been nominated for a Very Inspiring Blogger Award

All i can say is thankyou…both for sticking with and reading my brain burble and for nominating me!! As per the rules i..

1)Have to tell you some things about myself so here goes…..

I guess i’m a bit of a hippy at heart and as a younger mini me i wanted my parents to change my name to moonbeam

I had to watch the movie Gladiator 10 times before i saw the ending because i cried so hard i missed it

I have an 18 year old son with Aspergers Syndrome and i am a very firm advocate for the rights of special needs people particularly those with autism

When nobody is around i very badly wail along to my favourite songs whilst dancing around the room with a pillow

I love thunder storms and will happily sit outside watching a storm

I am afraid of dying alone

My favourite food is fresh pineapple

2) Thank and link back to the lovely person who nominated me and i hope i have done this correctly above, if not i could be here all night working it out

3) Nominate other bloggers whom i myself find inspiring and although i do not yet have 15 i shall nominate those i do and add as i find more….@cancerkillingrecipe  , http://brigittepeck.wordpress.comhttp://jennyexiled.wordpress.com,




(i have no idea how to write just the name links so apologies)

These blogs are all very different but all oh so worthy so please check them out and spread the word. And now dear readers i shall go and announce my nominations to those above and again a HUGE thankyou for putting up with my burble


Rowing a small boat in a big ocean

Crisis, breakdown, issues, problems….

Call them what you will but we all have them at some point in our lives often when we least expect them. We may be merrily ambling along the path of life when suddenly we are knocked off our feet and left down in the dirt trying to find a foothold to get ourselves back upright again. For some of us this may be easy but for others even such a short ascent  may seem like facing the tallest mountain when they know they are no mountaineer.

Ultimately there is just no tried and tested way to deal with all these things, we are all so very different and what may be an effective coping mechanism for one may leave another floundering.Good advice whilst kindly meant may often result in an adverse effect to the one intended, for none of us can say how another may react to any given situation.But does this mean we should not offer for fear of doing the wrong thing? Encountering a rebuff whilst hard to accept is inevitably better than failing to act at all then regretting the fact you did not.

Call me whimsical if you will but i rather like to picture life itself as a small boat on an ocean.

We start our voyage of existence sailing solo but along the way we may invite people to share the journey with us and at various ports along the way we will pick up and drop them off, sometimes just one or sometimes a few. Fate will bring along its share of both calms and storms but struggle begins when you choose to either ask someone to row along with you or whether you choose to weather the onslaught and battle along alone.

After much practise i find i have become rather adept at rowing my boat, rather skillfully weathering the storms and if at times i get a little seasick, well at least i know it will pass. Even so there are times when rowing this boat alone gets a little lonely and then sometimes you wish that you had someone else along to share the ride. This is when i wish i had not put into port so often and cast ashore my shipmates. Hindsight most truly is a wonderful thing.

Perhaps there was something to be said for press ganging after all!

So as we cruise along on our various odysseys perhaps we should all keep an eye for those boats adrift or battling the storm and as we pass by hold out a hand and offer to help row. For when life’s tempest rears its ugly head we should like to hope someone will sail by our side and battle us into calmer seas. 

And since i can profess no claim to being any kind of mariner I know i would.

For JayJay……keep on rowing my friend xx

Encounters with a 43 year old teenager

So last day in my job rolls around and i’m stuck working the night shift, a fact that really didnt make my day and if i was guilty of clock watching on a major scale then i hold my hands up and confess to it. Never has an evening crawled by so slowly and thanks only to two of my colleagues i was saved from being in a very bad mood for i did not one bit want to be there. 

So end of shift looming said colleagues pounced in the corridor and invited me to go along for a drink with them which my immediate reaction was to refuse. I am not much of a drinker and really am not particularly fond of pubs and sitting around listening to drunken people whilst nursing a drink that i really do not want is not my idea of fun. My colleagues however were not of a mind to take no for an answer and pressed their advantage saying that it was after all my last day so at this i half heartedly agreed fully intending to make my escape at the earliest opportunity.

So some time later still in uniform we weaved our way through a busy pub, pretending to ignore the antics of one or two males clutching parts of their bodies shouting ‘NURSE i need help’ before finally resorting to raised eyebrows and replies of ”sorry we’re not nurses but we do deal with the elderly so youre okay’  

Now this is where i made my big mistake, remember i’m no drinker and should’ve erred on the side of caution but no i threw all that out of the window and nonchalantly declared i would have the large glass of wine.Common sense would have dictated i opt for the small but ill humour prodded at me to be daring. Surprisingly aided with a very nice wine and humour unrestrained by the rules and regulations of work i was actually having a good time and if i was drinking my wine too quickly i did not notice at the time. 

Now i was still sober,remembered i do not drink and refused when offered a second drink by my colleage but this was swiftly rebuffed with the response that it was after all my last day so when large glass number two arrived i quite merrily drank my way through it and i must admit it did not last very long.Perhaps i would have been wiser to choose something a little less palatable thus slowing the desire to imbibe it so quickly. 

Right about now my nose and i started having issues for it became very fuzzy and i poked at it wondering why it felt all numb and my mouth just would not co-operate when i tried to talk. Did i refuse another drink? Unwisely i did not and amid fits of the giggles and a slight swaying in my chair. Bad mood was long dismissed and i had to admit it had been a rather effective way to de-stress.

An hour and a half later when the bartender rings for last orders i pull out my mobile to check the time and stared fuzzily at the dozens of messages and missed calls on screen wondering why i had suddenly become so popular and opened a message from dear daughter number two saying ‘where ARE you??’  texting back a brief  ‘At pub, leaving do, back soon ( or at least that was my intent but in my drunken state it was in actuality rather full of typos)  i picked up my drink only to receive a reply pinged quickly back.

Glass to mouth the message flashed up on screen ‘ We thought you were missing we’ve called the police everyone is looking for you’. Okay so i choked on my drink and shrieked loudly to my colleagues ‘OH GOD my kids have called the police!!’  Total horror i mean i’m a 43 year old grown woman who just happened to wander to the pub on the way home…..really??? The police??

Scrolling through the messages i find a text from the local police saying please call us immediately and i yelped in horror feeling for all the world like some rebelllious teen caught running away from home as a message pings through from dear daughter number one declaring ‘i’m coming to get you!!!’ Colleagues are at this moment giggling helplessly and i am loudly bewailing teens who 9 nights out of ten would not notice if i danced naked on the front lawn.

Briefly i prayed for Jeremy Beadle to come leaping from around the corner bouncily declaring it all some big prank but alas it was not so and we all weaved way to the door to be met outside by DD1 in best teacher voice scolding ”MOTHER!! youre drunk!!”   And i was, as i cheerily and loudly slurred ‘Dear i am 43 years old and a big girl if you want to declare me missing at least give me until morning to actually BE missing!!’

Hmmmmm perhaps its time to get a life and give worrisome teens more experience of a grown up mommy with freedom!!

Police indeed!! 

weightloss war of a 40 something carthorse

You’d never believe i once weighed 2lbs would you? Small enough to fit in the palm of your hand looking for all the world like a skinny little rat.

But i was.

Hitting my teens i was  still pretty skinny as it goes, tall but with the slightest hint of disproportionate thighs that hinted at the cursed pear shape to come. ‘Thunder- Thighs’ my brothers called me…oh i so hated that name back then but now it makes me laugh. ”Nowt wrong wi er” my mother would say” built like a pit pony arent you ducks”  yes thanks mother!!Even come early twenty something and the mother of two i pretty quickly lost all my ‘baby weight’  and was admittedly on the slender side for my height but of course those accursed thighs were STILL haunting me and i knew then i should never lose them. Actually i was pretty happy with my weight at that time although it most definitely would not suit me now.

And so along came mid 20s and this is where my war with weight began. I think this ranks on up there with the most unhappy i have been in my life and i began that fatal cycle of eating to make myself feel better. Anyone who battles with weight will know yes it DOES make you feel better..for that few moments you’re eating it but that high quickly fades and you crave that feeling again.Somewhere in the depths of ignored reality you know you are gaining weight but you refuse to acknowledge it, making every excuse under the sun for the reason your clothes don’t fit and determinedly avoiding those mirrors that show more than just head and shoulders. If you are like me cameras were avoided and any photographs that did sneak through were swiftly torn to shreds and disposed of.


And so my obese frame and i waved goodbye to my 20s and sailed on into my 30s, every wobbling inch growing larger by the day. I guess i was rather more fortunate than most in that i am rather tall for a girl and thus could carry this off better than most but it did not hide the fact i was almost twice the size i should be. And then came the shock. Most of those who embark on the diet roller coaster will do so as the result of a sharp slap around the face by reality and the realisation finally dawns of what you have become. This is the point where you have to concede that eating did not make the problems go away and you are not infact any happier than you were when you were your much smaller self. On one fateful day myself and i came face to face with the bane of every obese persons life..the full length mirror. Oh it took rather a while for the hysterical crying to stop and then i marched my stout frame right along to the nearest diet club and never looked back.

And then i found ME!  One year later and early 30s i was half my previous size and twirling around ecstatically in my first pair of jeans in a decade. Trust me thats some feeling and one i wont forget in a very long time. I looked slim and healthy and yes i felt attractive for the first time and oh i admit i flaunted it. And with it came true love the kind that lifts you up and carries you along and makes you feel that no matter what youre perfect the way you are. 

Then i was happy, diet was shelved and i really did not worry and if i was not a size zero well it didnt worry me at all i was happy with my size 12 figure and had no desire to change the way i was. But inevitably as things often are the case this did not last and on finding myself single again i comitted the ultimate sin and turned to my very best friend….food. And as always it did not let me down and every time i needed to feel better it was there to pick me up. I guess i was lucky because i could so easily have carried on and ended up right back where i had started but having had the forethought to dispose of those tent like garments as i had worn before i was faced with the choice. Diet or go around naked!! 


Yes here we go again all aboard!! So back on the roller coaster i go, hitting the gym and working furiously to rid myself of that hated stone that had so stubbornly attached itself to my frame and yet again i did it. Twirling again in my favourite jeans i vowed never to let myself slide again.

But i did. Of course i did.

So with every crisis comes the eating and for a while i feel better. And then i look in the mirror and feel ashamed for being so weak and yet again make the vow..i WILL stick to it this time. But of course i do not and this stone and i have met and parted so many times that we are now old friends. And i hate what i become when this dependant me comes along. I confess i have many times stood infront of the mirror exclaiming ”god you fat cow” before turning away in disgust.

And as it and i look in the mirror this morning i wave it goodbye yet again and hop back onto that never ending ride solemnly promising that i will not fail this time and i must learn to find another way to deal with my problems. Eating solves nothing i know that and i really am determined to try.


That just drives me crazy!!

I imagine i am far from alone in having those little pet peeves, those things that get up your nose and make you roll your eyes and mutter ‘oh for goodness sake!!’  I am not much given to profanity and have in my time invented a number of nonsensical words to use in such occasions although i am aware most people will have much more colourful ones than my own.

Yesterday was a day of pet peeves, yet i am for the most part a fairly tolerant and laid back person and it did set me thinking. I wonder whether many of us have the same irritants or whether i am alone in mine so i thought it would be rather amusing to confess to them.

Car Drivers


Yes you’ve got it the plain old humble car drivers.

It never ceases to amaze me how the most mild mannered of people will transform from Jekyl to Hyde whilst behind the wheel of a car. I see them all hunched over the steering wheel with an intent fixed look and a ‘dont mess with me attitude’. As a plain humble pedestrian i find myself often caught in the rain and invariably am at the whim of the car driver when needing to get around. Car drivers i find have no empathy, tucked up warm and dry in their cars they care little for the poor rain drenched pedestrian and will coldly drive through puddles without slowing and ignore those poor bedraggled souls shivering by the side of the road hoping to cross.

Of course being such a compassionate little soul myself i fully understand the importance of those in vehicles getting to their destination that whole thirty seconds sooner and i sympathise deeply with their plight and of course i understand how traumatic it should be to lose focus and have to let some impudent person cross the road.Really i do. I would not wish to be the cause of such distress as it should cause someone to have to change speed and see anything but the bumper of the car in front and their intended destination.

Car drivers my thoughts are with you.

Enid and Ethel

I imagine i am far from alone in my abhorrence for supermarket shopping. Of course we all need to shop, after all we need to eat but unless you are one of those wealthy enough to have someone to do all of this for you then invariably at some point you will encounter ‘the supermarket’. Now i have to admit with the advent of online shopping i manage for the most part to avoid this but there are times when i need to brave and go shopping. 

Cue the ‘wonky’ trolley. Smile fixed firmly in place you try to appear nonchalant as your errant trolley rattles and squeaks its way across the shop, hauling you firmly sideways as one rebellious wheel refuses to conform and roll with its peers . Mental cursing ‘move dammit’ you stoutly weave you way across the shop narrowly avoiding the requisite stack of wine bottles that is inevitably in your path. 

Ignoring stomach growls as you lurch your way past the selection of delectable concoctions in the bakery you slalom around other shoppers gathering goods as you go until you encounter…Enid and Ethel.


Now it matters not where you live, whether it be town or city you will without fail meet with an Enid and Ethel. They are usually best discovered infront of the one thing you really need the most and are easily recognisable by the pair of side by side trolleys blocking the aisle. More often you will hear Enid and Ethel long before you reach them as they have a most distinctive sound consisting of loud overly enthusiastic cries of ‘oh i haven’t seen you for ages how ARE you?’  Most amusing when approaching this pair for you cannot help but overhear and discover that infact they have actually last met only two days prior. 

So trolleys blocking aisle and effusive conversation in full flow, Enid and Ethel are totally oblivious to their whereabouts and also the inconvenience they cause to others as a procession of other shoppers build up behind you. Cue defensive mode and indignant squeaks of ‘it’s not me’ as more vocal of shoppers express their displeasure and yet Enid and Ethel remain totally unaware of the havoc they are causing. 

Now if you’re anything like me you become most apologetic and whisper ‘excuse me’ at the gossiping pair only to be met with a look of irritation from the recipients for how dare i interrupt their conversation! I have never yet figured out why i feel the need to apologise for i am not the one holding a coffee morning in the middle of my local convenience store. 

And so eventually having managed to squeeze by as, leaning guiltily over to snatch an item from off the shelf behind the pair, you hurry lopsidedly around the rest of the shop and dash for the one open checkout only to encounter……..yes you guessed it…….Enid and Ethel!

Spelling and the Queen’s English

Spending so much time online in this world of technology i, as do most of us, encounter many people in all forms of communication and i find the one thing that drives me to distraction is spelling and the use of our language. Now of course there has developed over time a use of slang and this is pretty much the norm in any language and culture. 


BUT and this is a big but, the one thing guaranteed to drive me to distraction is the misspelling of the most basic of words, those we should as very small children learn as the norm and certainly we as adults should know and be able to use correctly. Granted the invention of Mobile Phones did little to help the situation with the ongoing creation of ‘text talk’  which i confess drives me insane and on receiving such messages i do text back and say ”could i have that in english please”! 

And yes i do have a most hated word…WAT. This riles me whenever i see it and i am always so temped to correct it..the word is WHAT not WAT. A WAT is a buddhist temple although i do not expect you to know that and neither do i think this was your meaning when writing that word. WHAT WHAT WHAT!! 

Okay so calm, i acknowledge that such a pet peeve has made me so much more aware of my own spelling and use of language and i do try my best to use it appropriately although i expect at times i too get it wrong. But how tragic is it that in this day and age even those words so basic cannot be spelt correctly. 

Most calamitous then for the future of our language, are we to become a nation of text talkers, totally unable to string together a comprehensible  sentence? I Truly hope not! 

Mime Artists and Morris dancers


Yes you have it i cannot abide neither mine artists nor morris dancers and i expect in this i may be alone. I have not the faintest idea as to why but both arouse in me an intense irritation which to my knowledge has no foundation. I am not aware of any prior encounter with either that could have produced such an adverse feeling but there you have it i cannot tolerate either.


It is not very often i go into the city but on the rare occasion i do it is inevitable i will encounter some form of street performer as is often the case in the arty parts of any big city. And always it is my misfortune to encounter a mime artist and whether they can sense my dislike or not they always seem to make a beeline for yours truly. 

I remember my last encounter vividly as hurrying head down to my destination and trying desperately to avoid eye contact i was followed up the street by a mime artist feigning the proffering of flowers. Now of course i am female and should some handsome man pursue me down the street with some floral tribute i should be most happy but not when some clown like figure pursues me with invisible blooms causing all and sundry to point in my direction.

I confess to feeling somewhat guilty as this ridiculous figure pantomimed tears at my refusal to acknowledge him but i cannot help the feelings these figures arouse in me and hurried off.

And morris dancers, really?? Need i say more??


Get Up And Go

So its Sunday morning and i am not in bed having a lie in like most conventional people on the one day we do not need to get up early. As usual 6.30am my happy little dream world was shattered by brain rudely shouting ‘OI you’re late get up!!’  Now i was not infact late for anything but i appear to have some inbuilt alarm clock that has no respect at all for days off or late shifts and will quite happily tip me out of bed regardless.


So okay lets give in and crawl downstairs in the direction of the coffee….coffee helps, really although some days i think i should just bypass the kettle and sit and eat it with a spoon.Well mostly it helps but today three coffees down and it’s just not working.Cue huge yawn!

So being analytical i think my get up and go just got up and went……i’d be tempted to go and follow it but hey no forwarding address what do you know?? Typical right?

Actually i blame it all on being injured yesterday whilst out hiking in my thinking place. My own fault i really should know better than to go scrambling through barbed wire fences but i do things on a whim and it seemed like a terribly good idea at the time. Strangely i didn’t realise i was injured i think i was more absorbed in trying to get through the fence in a ladylike manner without displaying my ample bottom to the world and did not register my leg being chewed by a fence with teeth. 

Later sitting in the bath i did notice, peering curiously at it wondering where on earth it came from. But perhaps im a morbid little soul being not the slightest bit squeamish and i prodded happily at it fascinatedly examining the flesh inside and marvelling at the layers visible. 

This is where now my children would be exclaiming in disgust, the ritual…’Motherrrrrr thats gross’  would come forth. I watch medical programmes you see, quite unperturbedly eating dinner whilst watching open heart surgery and this never bothers me at all but my children for some odd reason find this most strange and refuse to watch tv with me. What can i say? i assume i just have a strong stomach or am capable of a degree of detachment that most people are not. Maybe i missed my calling and i should after all have been a surgeon!

So, get up and go having taken an impromptu vacation and blame being firmly placed at injuries door i absolved myself from all blame in feeling the need to attach my derierre to shiny new sofa,indulge my need for coffee and spend the morning mentally drooling at the gorgeous Kevin Mckidd courtesy of Greys anatomy.

Again this is most unlike me, i confess to having a touch of ocd in that i hate mess, i mean REALLY hate mess. It talks to me. I will happily sit down and then some untidy or homeless belonging will start waving at me and calling my name until i find all my attention focused upon it and then i feel the need to get up and take it away. Curtains and cushions must be straight and even and everything in its place. Yes a touch of OCD like i said. 

Although perhaps here i should be worried for other things talk to me too, biscuits for one. I hear them calling my name and cooing ‘eat meeeee’ every time i enter the kitchen. Hiding them really does not help for they seem to have internal radar and will only call louder to be sure of being heard. Hey im not ignorant i have to listen right??


But today with get up and go having got up and gone and injury taking the blame where i refuse to, i am having a guilt free slob out on the sofa gazing disinterestedly at all those tasks still waiting to be done. Not a voice to be heard and not a wave to be seen and although i feel mildly guilty knowing i have to work the late shift and it is likely my very minor mess will still be in residence when i return home. And this i know is when i will mind for i hate returning home to anything less than spotless. 

So still i sit here and time is ticking by and am i doing as i should? No i am sitting here blogging to the world, tutting furiously for my hands seem also to be missing a little something and typos run unbound across the page. I promise i shall edit before i publish for there is nothing more annoying than spelling mistakes and errors.

So tick tock time is moving along, work is edging ever closer and i think perhaps, guilt assisted or not i really should get myself moving and tackle the chores. Maybe just one more coffee first.

Coffee anyone??


Up where we belong

I have a thinking place

A place where i go when i want to be far away from everything and i sit and let the wind blow everything away. And it does for it is a very high place, far far above the town where the breeze ripples through the grass  and i love to climb up there and watch all the little cars and people going about their business with no idea i am up there and totally unaware that i am watching them.

Little people scurrying about like ants ,hurry hurry hurry.


This is where i sit, way up there right upon a snowy white horse.. I even have a special place sitting right on his ear and i close my eyes and i pretend i am the only person in the whole wide world.

And i just listen. 

And i just think.

And i just exist.

And so today i climbed and climbed and i went to my thinking place with all the little cars and the people that look like ants and i sat and i dreamed. And the sun shone and the wind blew my hair into my face so that i could not see and strangely this made me laugh.

And so i sat and i dreamed an still the people went on scurrying by. And i watched them all hurrying home, going about their business with no idea that i watched. And then it tickled me that maybe this was how the greek gods felt looking down from Mount Olympus and that made me laugh too. 

And still i sat, with the wind blowing my hair crazily around my face, thinking and dreaming. And up there nothing did matter and i did not care that i was alone because this is my thinking place and in my heart it belongs to me.


I have a thinking place.

And this is where i sit watching the world go by and all the little people scurrying by like ants.

I can see you…….Can you see me??