Westerwitch's Blog Room

What we did on our holidays

2011-03-02T12:14:00.001+01:00

Currently we are waving and drowning a bit in playing catch up for being away for a week . . .

BUT we had a fantastic time. We went and stayed in one of Posie Rosie's cottages - Persabus Cottage http://www.persabus.co.uk/cottages/index.html fabulous cottage - really home from home.

We were out and about doing photography every day and were knackered by the end of the week . . .

Posie Rosie was a pure delight to meet - I don't think I ever saw her stop smiling - she is one of those warm genuine people that you want as your best friend. Mind you I totally went off her when I discovered that despite not looking old enough she really was the mother of teenage children :evil: Mr Posie Rosie was also brilliant - knows everyone on the island - a real character - loved his stories and we are planning on going back for more. Infact you know even when we went over to Jura people there knew Mr and Mrs Posie Rosie - we didn't meet anyone who didn't know them and indeed didn't like them.

One thing we loved about the Island was just how friendly everyone is . . . no I mean REALLY friendly . . . EVERYONE waves at you as you drive round the Island - well no, not just us - everyone waves at everyone . . . un-nerving when it first happened because we wondered if we were doing anything wrong - but once we found out that it was the norm we found it utterly charming. Then of course back on the mainland we had to get used to the fact that people don't wave.

The island itself is beautiful and we found some stunning wild beaches - if I could live there overlooking the sea I would - but it would have to be a very specific beach . . .

So thank you Posie Rosie and Mr Posie Rosie - we will be back.

2010-09-16T11:32:00.003+02:00

PERTHSHIRE OPEN STUDIOS 11th - 19th September

www.perthshireopenstudios.com - we are number 88 and on the red route

Visit from Forth Valley Open Studios

Yesterday at Wester Lix we had a visit from some of the Forth Valley Open Studios committee . . . here they are with myself and Dave and Rob Mulholland's brilliant stainless steel 'mirror' man.

Below is another picture with Dave and our very special guest

Pictures courtesy of Ann Shaw and taken on her iPhone.

As you can see the weather is fantastic - so go on if you are in Central Scotland come and visit us on the red route number 88.

PLUS the first person through the doors saying they have come here as a result of Twitter, Facebook, or Blogger gets a unique giclee print

ARTWORK COURTESY OF ROB MULHOLLAND http://www.robmulholland.co.uk/

Camouflage For Sale

2010-05-08T11:55:00.002+02:00

Ironically today I should be down at Kew Gardens receiving my prize for my winning picture in IGPOTY, meeting the judges and seeing the exhibition of all the winning pictures - but a mixture of health and ash cloud has meant that we can't go . . . :-(

Still it is a gorgeous day here and I would rather be amongst the Perthshire Hills than anywhere else - although visiting Kew Gardens would have been a good second.

So anyway I have been asked by a some of you if prints of my picture of the Chaffinch in the Sycamore Tree are for sale . . .

And the answer is yes . . .

Prints will be in two sizes (all in cm)

Larger mount size will be 40x50 with a picture size (mount window) of 27x31

Smaller mount size will be 21x30 (A4) with a picture size (mount window) of 15x17

Both mounts will fit into standard frame sizes . . . or of course we can frame the picture for you.

The large ones will be Giclee prints - smaller one will be on archival matte paper - both sizes will be signed.

Larger one £25 inc p&p

Smaller one £10 inc p&p

So email me on gill@westerlix.co.uk or give me a ring on 01567820990

Thank you

xWWx

What a Year

2010-05-01T17:23:00.000+02:00

And so far it is only May.

Starting last September I went for and got my Licentiateship Panel with the Royal Photographic Society. The judges were more than kind - one judge tried to give me 200% . . . head swelling stuff . . . and I was encouraged to go for my Associate Panel asap based on my Licentiateship Panel. My panel was of my earlier shoots of my Raindrops on Grasses with a few extra bits to show variety.

So hugely encouraged and armed with a 'rough panel' plus spares of my Wild Grasses I went to the Advisory day in Scotland in January . . . and got shot down horribly in flames - no need to widen the doorways after this critique I could crawl under the gap in the door, regardless of whether there was even a gap. I was told I was doing nothing new . . . all been done before . . . blah blah - completely the opposite of my previous experience. I felt so discouraged I stopped taking photographs - what was the point - `i was carp after all . . . unoriginal . . . boring . . .

However, shoulders slumped I did manage to go with my rough panel and layout to see my mentor . . . brilliant man - talks to me how I imagine House might!!!!!! We get on really well!!!!!!!! It was decided with my passion for my grasses that my panel was better suited to Contemporary Arts than Visual Arts as an Associate Panel - plus it kept me away from the judge who clearly was not impressed with my work. Still feeling very discouraged and not really expecting to pass I waited for the 21st April . . . judgement day . . . sigh . . . I didn't think my passion for my subject was going to count for much this time.

All day long I kept checking for the email that would tell me if I had passed, or not . . . nothing . . . nothing on the web site . . . sigh . . . I cleaned the house to within a molecule of its dust . . . and then at 17.41 when I'd given up all hope . . . WHOOP WHOOP . . . Gillian Hunt ARPS - I'd passed. Lots of running around in circles and screaming ensued for a number of days. HS was away on the Isle of Aarron doing a photography shoot so I was forced to celebrate with Lixtroll . . . oh and we really did celebrate. Serious bout of wine flu caught up with us the next day.

And it went on getting better . . . the RPS liked my panel enough to want to hang onto it and use it for workshops. Plus I was asked to send electronic images in as well to go onto a CD for presentations . . . my images were (along with others) also being sent to Japan . . . and I was asked to do a brief talk on my panel in May at a RPS meeting . . . BIG SMILEY FACE.

Quite enough for one year!!!!!! Yup. Except I had been short listed for the International Garden Photograher of the Year competition . . . and then I became a finalist . . . berlimey and then on Sunday 25th April I got an email saying I had won my category of Wildlife in the Garden. http://www.igpoty.com/competition03/winners_LifeGarden.asp?parent=winners WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

So I am now back taking pictures - I have learned a really good lesson - believe in what your doing and don't always expect everyone to think you are good - they won't . . . for whatever reason . . . but equally learn to be your harshest, but most constructive critique . . . I love what I do and nearly gave it up because of someone's careless remarks . . . never again . . . unless of course I lose it and really do become crap . . . every artists dread . . .

Berludy Bins

2009-05-26T10:36:00.004+02:00

Good grief and all that - how sad is this my poor little blog not touched since January. Well excuses, excuses - it has been a busy few months what with getting ready for the Aviemore Trade Show and then doing the show - but I will blog about that at a later date.

I put this up in the Moans and Groans Forum of Purplecoo (www.purplecoo.co.uk) and thought I would put it here as well so that my blog gets used again . . .

We have three types of bins - grey ones for normal rubbish - fortnightly collection, brown ones for recycling, fortnightly collection and a big green wheely bin for the commercial rubbish from the cottage - oh and recycling boxes which are only for the domestic rubbish. We have had ten years of problems with the bins which I can't go into without the red haze descending . . . However the result of which is the domestic bins are now all locked and so are the commercial bins - to foil the fly tippers.

So for the last three weeks the commercial bins - despite repeated calls to the council haven't been emptied . . . slight red haze creeping in. . . . I managed to speak to the depot chap on Friday and was told

- ah well . . . the main crew have been off sick for three months . . .

uhuh . . .

and the guys that have been doing it are on the domestic crew . . .

uhuh . . .

and your bin was locked . . .

SCREAM . . . of course it was fekking locked THE WHOLE WORLD AND HIS DOG DUMP THEIR RUBBISH IN MY BIN IF IT ISN'T LOCKED . . . we had a whole cooker top shoved in the bin once - not to mention vats of used cooking oil and a bag of sick . . . shudder.

and the crew didn't have the key . . . .

AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH WHAT THEY DIDN'T HAVE THE KEY FOR THREE FEKKING WEEKS . . . Total red haze . . . I think there is a strong possibility here of SOMEONE IS LYING.

There was more to this conversation but what with the red haze and the rushing in my ears . . .

So apparently they are going to empty my bin on Monday - yeah right - even though it is Bank Holiday - yeah right - and then will come the battle of the fully charged bill - we can't give you a credit - we will just empty you weekly instead of fortnightly for a while and only charge you for the fortnightly . . . THERE IS NO FEKKING POINT IN EMPTYING A HALF FULL BIN ONCE A WEEK . . . I WANT A CREDIT . . . we don't do credit . . . oh let me introduce you to my chainsaw . . . I think you might change your mind Twisted Evil . . . sigh then again last time I got REALLY P*SSED OFF - AND REFUSED TO PAY THEY TOOK MY BIN AWAY . . . BARSTEWARDS . . . and I can't take the bin bags down to the tip because it is commercial waste . . . yeah prove it . . . Twisted Evil Our Council commercial bin department I REALLY REALLY HATE YOU . . . SIGH . . . If you ever wondered what a lying jobsworth is like - well this department is it.

PS I couldn't put in any speech thingies cos this ' is the only one I have left - I have ordered a load more though.

The Sky in Scotland

2009-01-12T22:22:00.004+01:00

I watched a piece on the TV the other day about light pollution and it struck me again just how lucky we are to live here in the Perthshire hills of Scotland. When night falls and the sky is clear we can see the stars and I mean really SEE the stars. It is breathtaking . . . the more you look, the more stars you see - clouds and clouds of stars. No light pollution here for us - it is pitch black, until you look at the sky.

When Robot Boy comes home one of the first things he wants to look at is Sky - well yes Sky TV and then when he has done that and it is evening time he goes outside and stares at the sky and wonders at the beauty of it. Yup even teenagers 'get it'.

I sent RB a birthday card which had a picture of two cartoon penguins lying on their backs in the snow staring up at the sky.

1st Penguin - wow Eric look at all those stars . . . what do you think it means . .

Eric - Pause . . . it means someone's nicked our igloo!

Well with his love of stars how could I resist - well clearly I didn't

Happy New Year

2008-12-31T19:30:00.003+01:00

Eeeeeeek my poor blog has been seriously neglected - note to self - must do better in 2009.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL.

Thank you to everyone on Purplecoo for making it such a special place to be - I have loved having your company whether we are laughing, crying, of offering support to each other. I look forward to a better year for all of us in 2009.

xWWx

More a Show and Ask

2008-07-28T22:42:00.012+02:00

Whoop whoop today is our Purple Show and Tell on Purplecoo . . .www.purplecoo.com

Some of the flowers I have put up are, I think, purple wild flowers and I haven't got a clue what they are (hangs head) so if you know please tell me . . . .thank you.

This one I know it is a Scottish Thistle with an obliging Bee

This one I know as well it is my madly flowering Cape Primrose - which is an indoor plant.

Another type of thistle . . . it is tall and untidy and leggy looking.

No idea what this is - it grows in a big bush with these lovely bell flowers.

Yeah yeah I know it is more pink than purple . . . it is growing wild around here - no idea what it is.

I have been told this is a wild Orchid - but I don't know for sure.

This one is a climber and I found it wound around nettles . . . the leaves are Mimosa like.

Bit Campanula like . . .

So that is my Purple Show and Ask.

Thank you for looking.

Six Random Things

2008-07-27T16:27:00.004+02:00

Eeeeeek I have been tagged by Cowgirl . . . I can't remember the rules - rules are made to be broken . . . so I have done eight random things because I got carried away . . .

1) I hate Subway's (sandwich shop) shops and logo - completely irrational it makes me FEEL bored . . . hard to explain.

2) Wet pavements in a town have the same effect as above.

3) I LOVE extreme weather . . .even if storms are scary.

4) I love the smell and feel of brown paper bags - I was soooooo sad when Ikea stopped making theirs.

5) I love the smell of fresh Tar . . .

6) I have a phobia about earwigs . . .

7) I struggle with Mental Arithmatic . . . and was never able to work in a bar.

8) I was terrible at Physics at school and then decided to drop it for my 'O' Levels and came fifth from the top in my last exams before I dropped it.

There done . . . I am not going to tag anyone - but if you want to do six random things then consider yourself tagged . . .

FOLLOWED

2008-07-22T11:41:00.002+02:00

There I was going for my usual walk with the dogs. Lovely, lovely SUNNY day . .remember the sun - big yellow ball in the sky tends to make you hot . . . and not in an attractive to the opposite sex way either . . .well not unless you shed layers . . . which given the summer we are having is probably not wise . . . tucks in summer vest.

So there I was walking along, minding my own business throwing sticks for the dogs (flat ended ones of course - don't want the dogs to hurt themselves) when I realised I was being followed . . . yes followed . . stalked . . . and attacked . . . not once but THREE times and then harassed for the rest of the walk.

Mmmmmm yes, no really - attacked . . . and harassed . . . berludy great big fly it was - all sort of buff/minky/mushroom coloured . . . about an inch long. Berludy thing bit me three times. It kept sneaking up behind me landing on the back of my legs and OUCH. It followed me for about a mile . . . then it got brave and landed on my arm . . . If I'd had my chainsaw with me it wouldn't have been so cheeky. . . nasty little . . .

I have no idea what it was - going out again in a minute and taking the camera with me . . .

I have tried looking up Scottish Flies, but all I get is fly fishing . . . sigh . . .

Honestly you can't even go for a quiet walk these days without being hassled.

Ah HAH - think I found the little berger . . . apparently it is rare - so phew - I didn't swat it . . . don't want a repeat of the berludy mussels . . .

www.arkive.org/species/ARK/invertebrates_terrestrial_and_freshwater/Spiriverpa_lunulata/ARK006439.html?offset=0pt

Long Distance Love

2008-07-14T13:56:00.003+02:00

Hooray hooray Wildchild has phoned from Trinidad and all is well. Horrible life stopping moment though – phone rings – Wildchild's voice the other end . . . gulp . . .wildly beating heart in mouth muffling voice and hampering attempts to act casual and cool . . . eeeeeek I'm talking to my child half way across the World.

'Hey Wildchild brilliant to hear form you (super causal). . .howareyouiseverythingalright . . . gasp . . .?'

The reply is the unconcerned

'Yeah everything's great!'

And breathe . . . yeah it isn't just animals that can crank up the stress factor.

Whoop whoop . . so no broken legs, yellow fever, bitten by vipers blah blah and they have chocolate . . . In fact the worst problem apparently was the heat . . . very hot yesterday (remember heat) and the electricity had gone . . . not a problem except the fan wasn't working and neither was the fridge – so the chocolate was melting . . . berlimey. Not had the melting chocolate problem for a while now. Left a candle on the lit woodburner once that melted . . .

Wildchild is up at 5.00am each morning and spends her days putting up large bird nets to catch . . well . . . birds . . . which she and the team ring. She is enjoying the work – although disappointed that they won't be working with Blue and Gold Macaws and Manatees as thought. She has caught several species of Humming bird . . . wow. NB all the birds are handled swiftly to cause the minimum of stress and then released.

How about this . . .Wildchild has WRITTEN us a letter . . on PAPER . . .yes PAPER . . . with a pen . . . really impressed . . remember when we all used to write like that . . . She is going to post it – stamp and EVERYTHING and it will be here in about three weeks . . . .hmmmmmm . . . remember that as well . . . snail mail . . .

So all is well in Trinidad . . . The leader of the field trip has a mobile phone so each student is allowed a ten minute call home each week . . . Something to look forward to once I have get over the heart in the mouth bit.

Here at home Robot Boy and Geek Girl came to stay. Too much excitement. Cesspit Cottages had a week free – so Robot Boy and Geek Girl had the cottage to themselves for a few days..

HS and Robot Boy went for a long local walk in the hills surrounding us – spectacular views now that the trees have gone. On Tuesday we went to a tiny island just off Oban. The ferry across only took about five minutes . . . barely enough time to go a decent shade of green. Gorgeous little island – chatted to one of the locals about the pleasures and problems of living so cut off. We spent a couple of hours on the island walking and talking (both boys and girls multitasking here) and taking pictures. Then wandered around on the beach and found sea glass and rescued a stranded eel. No that really is eel and not seal . . .

At the end of each day we cooked and spent the evening together . . . sigh . . bliss. And guess what – Robot Boy - the child that refused to eat anything except baked potatoes, or chips now eats curries – yes curries and and on Tuesday evening he cooked us a really spicy chicken fajitas. . . .sigh . . .

One of the highlights for me was a long chat with Robot Boy . . . just the two of us, we talked and I mean really talked. Robot Boy has always been quite articulate with his feelings. I won't embarrass him by writing here what we talked about (well only a little bit) – but it is so good to know that he is happy and where there have been problems he has been able to work through them. One thing he did talk about, which I hope he won't mind me mentioning – was a school parent evening – a few years ago now. During the evening he got a lot of positive feedback from his subject teachers . . . except his maths teacher and apparently rather than dwell on the positives HS and I zoomed in on the maths 'problem' and lectured him all the way home (half hour drive) about the need to do better . . . which he resented. Squirm! Having said that he went on to raise his game and did very well at maths . . . smug.

Robot Boy and Geek girl make a wonderful couple – they seem so happy together. She is lovely and has a really wicked sense of humour and can hold her own with us any time. Yup . . .she didn't flinch at the fart machine taped under the table, or the laughter machine hidden in the fridge . . . or the vibrating cat in the bag . . . although my Furbies irritated her – but then they irritate everyone – no point in having them otherwise. Geek Girl ( her choice of name btw) is every mother's dream – someone who makes their boy happy and someone whom they actually like. Plus when they arrived she had brought chocolate . . . .lurve that girl!!!!!!

So all is well on the 'long distance love' front. You never stop worrying about your kids – but ours do seem to have acquired a lot of the right 'tools' for building a good life. HS and I are very proud of both of them.

Pet Lover's Blindness!

2008-06-30T00:49:00.004+02:00

Keeping a pet lessens stress . . . of course it does – proven fact.

So why am I standing here cleaning up a cat poo with enough electric stress to level even a Buddhist monk. Yup cat poo on the floor – which of course I trod in - is not something to relax and calm you. Not just any old cat poo though – poo that has to be checked for fur balls to make sure the medication is working! Hoh yes gloves on dive in and investigate in minute detail . . . .eeeeuuuuuuwwwwww. Stress level meter on the up!

So of course the simple thing of taking the cat to the vet for excess dribbling . . . the cat, not the vet . . . although maybe the vet is a closet dribbler . . . turned into the cat – Bootsie (Boo) – needing his teeth 'done'. Grind own teeth lightly. Plus Boo was walking a bit hunched so he needed a blood test to check kidneys . . . and if they were ok, he could have Metacam for arthritis. . . . mmmm – grind teeth harder and furrow brow.

So Bootsie was duly taken in – knocked out- and his teeth were de-scaled. End of story – of course berludy not. Poor old Boo had a lot of inflammation on the right hand side of his mouth . . . could be just with the contact with the plaque (light at end of tunnel) – could be a tumour . . . gulp – (oncoming train.) Grind teeth to powder and add in chewed cheeks.

'Here's the bill bring him back in a week . . .oh and give him these antibiotic pills – they taste foul, but keeping them in the fridge helps . . . !

'Er thanks . . . have you read my post on pills and cats . . . thought not.'

'And his kidneys are fine – here is your Metacam . . . '

'Nooooo . . . . '

'It's drops in food . . .'

'Yesssss.'

Bootsie stopped dribbling . . .hooray – and breathe . . . and then he started being sick . . .noooooooo . . . . . tense up and work on sick feeling in pit of stomach. Boo also started to yell for food more and to burp loads . . . sigh . . . heart in dry mouth. I took him off the Metacam . . . my guess it was irritating his stomach a lot – given the amount of burping and yowling. . . .him and me. Tense feeling in solar Plexus.

I also thought Boo was horribly constipated until I discovered that our Collie - Sassy was hoovering the cat poo out of the litter tray . . . eeeeeek. Note to self keep an eye on dog for sickness . . . and . . . tense a little bit/a lot more.

The burping stopped . . .sigh . . . but Boo continued to be sick and his appetite dropped through the floor – so did his weight . . . so did mine . . .

Another visit to the vets . . . hah they were unable to get a look in poor Boo's mouth so he had to be knocked out . . . mutters about cats and pills. . . whilst brewing a headache. . .

The inflammation was less apparently. Boo was given a long acting antibiotic injection . . . TWO WEEKS it lasts TWO WEEKS . . . and where was this injection last week. . . and something to help bind the fur in his stomach – paste in a tube - palatable . . . twice a day for a week . . .then he can expel the hair balls up . . . or down. . . erk . . fight nausea!

Berlimey HOW MUCH . . .hand over credit card . . . massage tense neck, take pills for headache and rescue mangled tongue from between teeth. Own tongue of course – important note - never kiss someone at the vets when handing over credit card. Especially not the vet!!!!! Never the vet . . . he dribbles you know!

And Boo appeared to get better. He stopped being sick and started eating again . . . and breathe . . .

Then he was sick again . . . twice – raise shoulders to ears . . .higher . . .and hold.

But he has been better the last couple of days and then . . . dawn the day of the hairy poo . . . very hairy, very smelly . . . very treadable poo . . .hooray . . .he has passed the hair – it is the little things that make you happy . . . but don't relax . . .oooooo nooooo not just yet . . . there are two dogs and fish and sheep and a million things to go wrong with them, to them, to me . . . no time to relax . . . any minute now . . .and . . and . . and . . . wait for it . . YES . . .we are off . . Sassy has weed in HS's study . . .WHY . . .and WHY . . . and WHY – high blood pressure, spots in front of eyes . . . Pee In HS study . . . carpet, anger, instant grief. Pee in my office, wooden floor, forgiveness, no rows . . . no chest pain . . .

Owning pets is relaxing? Show me the petless idiot that said that and I'll show them the hell that is pet owning and the depleted bank balance and the sleepless nights . . . and the endless, endless, endless STRESS . . . . . and . . . . oh listen Boo is purring . . .aw bless . . . Such big loving eyes . . .Yes I love oooo tooo Bootsie Boo – who a cutsie wutsie liddle boy then . . . sheer contentment . . . . . dreamy sigh . . I wouldn't be without a pet you know – they are just sooooo relaxing . . . All is well . . .pet lover's blindness.

A surprise vist and imminent parental worries

2008-06-23T10:11:00.002+02:00

Yup I think my face has almost stopped burning . . . bit concious of my laugh though . . . and wary of my mobile phone . . . berludy thing.

So the berludy thing rang. . . Saturday night – looking forward to a quiet night in, good food (HS doing the cooking) a not too horrible bottle of wine (bargain from Sainsbury's).

'Hi Mum . . . are you in?' (Wildchild)

Pause . .

'Yes!'

'Can I come up and have a shower!'

'Spose!'

Evening out of the window . . . or door – why does it always have to be a window . . .couldn't it go up the chimney.

But you guessed it both HS and I were delighted . . . the evening and the chimney already forgotten.

Wildchild, having passed her end of year three exams with flying colours, was on a field trip (part of next years Honours Course) and staying at a nearby Outdoor Centre. She and those in her group had spend the day catching and ringing birds. The Outdoor Centre is excellent, but no frills. Wildchild and three friends arrived looking for home comforts, warmth and a hot shower.

The house filled with excited young chatter as everyone fussed over the dogs, the cat, met Cyd and failed to see him scoop up his 'Taste the Difference' pieces of Sainsbury's Salmon. Towels were produced . . . showers had. Raincoats and walking gators lent. Hair washed and straightened. Childhoods remembered . . . In the space of ten minutes Wildchild managed to leave towels, drier, straighteners and tissues all over the bedroom . . . the explosion of her presence was small . . . time constraints, she can do better. . . oh so much better . . .

Glad to know that as parents we still have something to offer our children . . . a hot shower, a washing machine, food . . . unconditional love, all in a heatbeat. Wildchild even hugged me in front of her friends . . . so getting over the embarrassing mother bit then – that's no berludy good . . . I must try harder.

Wildchild will be close by until Wednesday then she goes back to Dundee for a couple of days before flying out to Trinidad . . .gulp . . .Yes Trinidad. Bye bye Wildchild, hello instant worry . . .Trinidad . . still can't get to grips with this – Trinidad for six weeks – part of her Uni course – she will be studying endangered parrots. . . gawd . . . she and her friends chattered confidently about the dangers of the snakes and spiders . . . eeeek all too real . . .no malaria though . . .phew . . . just yellow fever . . .cerikey . . . and insects . . . they are all taking Jungle Formula with Deet . . . BERLIMEY . . .and working ten hours a day . . . speechless . . .

But wow what an amazing experience for her . . . She will be away on her 21st Birthday . . . yes HS and I are sad she won't be here, but no doubt she will be spoiled rotten by her friends and how many people get to say they celebrated their 21st Birthday in Trinidad. HS and I managed to sneak a Catherine Tate talking (am I bothered it's your 21st Birthday) card and a badly wrapped in Xmas paper packet of Haribo sweets to one of Wildchild's friends, another Trinidad traveller. Hope they bring a smile to Wildchild's face and happy thoughts of us on her birthday.

And yes KittyB – this was the packet of Haribos you sent to me as part of a swap. Every expense spared!

HS and I are planning a surprise to meet Wildchild at Gatwick when she returns . . . schhhhhhhh . . .don't know if it will happen yet.

So here we are full of pride and holding back the tears . . . sob . . . .

PLUS . . .Robot Boy finished his exams on Thursday (he is quietly confident he has got through ok). . . and moved in with his lovely girlfriend on the Friday (yes HS and I like her . . phew). RB is staying in Scotland so won't have to long distance worry about him . . .just the usual worry then . . . WHERE, oh where did the time go . . . checks chimney . . . settles down with photographs, nostalgia, no Haribos and a berludy big box of tissues . . . sigh . . .

Nothing is as it seems

2008-06-18T10:39:00.002+02:00

Nothing is as it seems. A couple of weeks ago I watched a film starring Colin Farrell and Al Pacino . . . it was a spy thriller and the message throughout the film – was - nothing is as it seems. Interesting film lots of twists and turns, but nothing to do with this blog.

Ever been in the situation where someone's phone has phoned yours. They are unaware of the connection, but you can hear everything that is going on the other end. Oh yes. . . .nothing good comes of eaves dropping, even if it is not your fault – you can see where this is going can't you. It is the little things that catch you out.

There was a voice message on my mobile phone – it was a few days old – somehow I had missed it. I dialled my voice messages and idly listened. There was a lot of blurred and distorted noise, bored I almost hung up . . . and then a man spoke. I recognised the voice it was HS. His phone must have been in his pocket and dialled mine at some point . . he said something – I couldn't hear what . . . vaguely interested I listened on and then SHE laughed . . Berludy berludy hell . . .WHAT . . . there was some slut with a REALLY and I mean REALLY dirty laugh, laughing at something MY husband had just said . . . and it went on and on . . . Who the fugger and buck was she trying to impress – well that was obvious . . . and that filthy laugh . . . SNARL And . . . he was clearly enjoying her attention . . berludy berludy hell.

And so with a severe case of wobbly spaghetti fingers and blazing green eyes, not forgetting the abrupt companionship of the red dog of anger snapping none too playfully at my heals I vengefully checked the diary against the date of the phone message . . . no fool me . . . I would have the truth and the identity of miss slutty laugh in no time.

Yup there it was – the day we had moved Wildchild to her new flat . . . . Hah yer barsteward, think I don't know what is going on. . . gottcha . . .

And the slutty bitch with the dirty laugh who was clearly entertaining MY husband with more than the desired effect. . . Yup I knew exactly who SHE was now . . . NOTHING gets passed me . . . yup that wicked slutty bitch with the REALLY dirty laugh . . . . . . . . that would be me . . . . runs away . . .face burning.

Nothing is what it seems.

Summer Time

2008-05-27T12:20:00.002+02:00

There's a Yawning in the Dawning
Of another sunfilled day
Too much light for my liking
Please make it GO AWAY

We have blue skies up to Midnight
With Dawn barging in at 4.00
And the birds hollering their greetings
I can't take it any more

Sleeping in the Summer
Is a long forgotten thing
A few brief snatched hours
Then it all begins again

Light through the curtains
Noise inside my head
No-where to run and hide
The daylight kicks me out of bed

So I'm getting out my chainsaw
And a torch that's oh so bright
I'm gonna get those birdies
I'll give them yelling in my night

Hah see how they like it
When their night is suddenly gone
Yeah come on out you birdies
Hear my chainsaw sing its song

I'm revving up my chainsaw
And filling the night with sound
I'm shining round my power torch
And jumping up and down

Gawd is that the time already
No sleep for me tonight
Grrrr the birds are singing loudly
And the berludy sun is bright

The air's filled with feathered song
My efforts were in vain
So I don't think I'll bother
With torches and chainsaws again

I'll sleep with my ears all blocked
And paint my eyelids black
I'll suffer the endless daylight
And get through with just naps

I'm looking forward to the Winter
The dark mornings and the night
Hip hooray for the Winter
It's the season nature got right.

An Ass

2008-05-11T23:26:00.006+02:00

Gorgeous, gorgeous sunny day. Birds singing, oh and hark the first cuckoo and yes the shrill haunting cries of the Buzzard contrasting with the harsh cries of the crows. The gentle delicate colours of the wild flowers and the deer stomach and guts warming quietly in the sun . . . .WHAT . . . .rewind . . . eeeeeoooouuuuwwwww. Yes there it was a pile of deer entrails chucked just off the public path. Last week it was a deer foot. All perfectly legal . . .yup despite the fact that it is distressing not to say berludy unhygienic – it is actually legal. Although I will be having a chat with Sepa on Monday – our environment agency.

I phoned the police – my main concern being that I walk the paths near our home everyday for an hour or two . . . and I have never seen any warning that there is shooting. And I also know that all the paths are well used by locals and tourists.

I was told that under the new Scottish Right to Roam laws I have a perfect right to be there . . . and so do the people with the shooting rights and they don't have to put out warning signs. The guns, the deer stalkers use, can actually shoot a bullet up to six/seven MILES . . .this information from the police themselves and indeed from a policeman whom I know hunts. Deer stalkers are supposed to shoot into a back stop ie if you are shooting in the hills you shoot towards a hill where the bullet will stop if you miss your target . . . but you can't do that in a wood and if that bullet misses and strays how do you even know who, or what you have hit.

Now is it only me who can see the potential disaster lurking in the woods waiting to happen?

I pointed this out to the policeman . . . and he said 'well you needn't worry you would probably be spotted.' Now call me pernickety but that word PROBABLY is not entirely comforting – particularly as a couple of Winters ago HS and I, whilst out walking in exactly the same area I am writing about, had someone discharge a gun very close to us . . . the hunter had no idea we were there until AFTER he had fired the gun . . . We phoned the police. The man in question got his knuckles rapped by the police and told do it again and you will lose your licence . . . horse and stable door springs to mind. But every time our hunter goes out shooting he is at risk of discharging his firearm near a member of the public . . .whether it be in the forest, or out on the hills the problem is the same - you simply cannot see people until they are very close to you.

I was told by the police that the gun laws are very stringent . .

'Er but they still allow people with powerful guns to shoot in areas frequented by the public – with no warning to the public?'

'Yes.'

'Mmmmmm.'

I have been told by the police that if I hear shooting when I am out walking to call them (the police) immediately and they will come up and investigate . . . er yeah could be too late by then . . .but thanks . . .Think I'll just bolt this stable door and then trot off into the sunset on the stable's ex occupant . . . a berludy incompetent Ass. . . think I'll call him Law!

The Hormone

2008-05-01T14:39:00.003+02:00

Said in the voice of Frankie Howard in Up Pompei – remember when he used to say 'The Prologue!' . . .sigh . . .showing my age I guess!

And so . . The Hormone. A little demon from within. A tiny little inhabitant in our bodies busily proving on a daily basis and throughout our lives that size doesn't matter when you are intent on wreaking havoc..

When we are young our hormones live in apparent dormant calm allowing us to get on with the tricky business of 'growing up'. Although I suspect the tricksy little hormones will be in there somewhere stirring up the terrible two's perhaps . . just practising for the turmoil that they will create later on. Then, just as we are heading into an all important time of our lives – exams – the whole of our future hanging the balance . . .POW . . . zippy little hormones nip in and turn our normal young lives into teenage hell. As if growing up isn't difficult enough nippy zippy hormones decide to bring horrible acute and overpowering awareness of the opposite (whispers) sex into the equation. And they (the opposite s-e-x) are suddenly the most important thing in our lives. Just when we should be thinking about Maths and English and History suddenly Chemistry and Biology become the most important thing on agenda and not the type that you will be examined on either – well not by the school anyway. Ah but not content with turning our lives upside down the hormones also cause our skin to erupt horribly, just at the time when we need to look our best., to be attractive to the opposite . . s*e*x. All hell breaks loose. We develop an unjustified (well mostly unjustified) hate for our long suffering parents, just when we need their support most. Our bodies change and sprout all over the place and our moods go up and down faster than a speed lift. And as if it wasn't enough with the hair and the new body odour and the spots and the turmoil us women get to have periods every month as well. Oh thank you oh higher one for that!

So somehow we stagger through the confusing teenage years, just another phase perhaps, but the hormones are awake now and they aren't going to let go. Oh no for us women every month is a roller coaster ride of emotions over which we have no control. We see-saw from happy and calm and liking ourselves for maybe one day of the month to out and out hatred of our bodies for the rest of it. Overnight we loathe everything about ourselves, we hate the way we look, dress, walk, talk, think, speak, breathe. Our bodies retain water and bloat up, we feel fat and revolting and as if to mock us we are hungry all the time and crave chocolate and just want to eat and eat and eat . . .which makes us bloat and hate ourselves all the more . . .arrgghh. And then the men in our lives don't understand why we are so snappy and vile. Well why the hell should they, we don't understand either and do they bring us the very chocolates we crave and don't want – of course not . . . .And then there is the pain and the mess of periods . . .warning to you men – don't cuddle us when we feel like this – a poke in the eye often offends . . .'but why aren't you cuddling us, don't you find us attractive any more Wailey Wailey. . . If I have to put up with this the least you could do is be supportive . . don't come near me, I know what you want . . . What do you mean you will love me however I look you're just being condescending I know I'm fat and ugly. . . But darling big is beautiful . . . MEN!!!! Honestly you just don't know what you want do you? Snarl! AND the house is a mess WAAAAAH.

So we lurch from month to month to year to year battling each mood change until maybe we find we are pregnant. If we are lucky that is, not everyone who wants to be can be. However the rollercoaster takes on new dips and turns, highs and lows. Morning sickness, bizarre cravings (cheese marmalade and onion toasties) and apathy and new moods we didn't know existed. Tiredness beyond belief, a bladder that develops a mind and size of its own, a body that is no longer yours. We also go through the blooming months and life is good and the backache and constant battle with gravity through to the torture of those last couple of weeks to childbirth and crashing hormones. Postnatal depression for some and a baby to cope with as well. Ghastly, unrepeatable, never again? Obviously not - because many of us do willingly go through it more than once and I, even after two children, confess I can't remember that much about being pregnant. The hormone again – it has mind block powers . . .sneaky little . . .what was I saying?

So we travel through life lurching around the minefield of hormones without a map – even Sat Nav can't help here and we grow older and maybe even wiser and more reasonable and then the menopause creeps in . . . good grief just when you thought you had got it all worked out. Hot flushes – save a fortune on the heating, mood swings, don't even TRY to keep up, black thoughts, feelings of doom – wake up on an indrawn breath of near panic and weight gain again . . . what is it with weight and hormones and bit by bit everything starts to wrinkle and fade and for those of us with daughters it all happens just as they are blooming into gorgeous young women . . .ptoooooey – how UNFAIR is that . . .And we still find young men attractive . . . .eeeeeeek.

Ah hah . . . but after years and years of being ruled by the little demon hormones . . . . . .I actually 'get it' now. The physical things I can ride out and the mental things I can grab hold of and contain . . . so you see you little bergers you don't rule supreme anymore . . .ho ho ho little hormones of mine. I know I still have a monthly cycle of sorts, but I 'get' it and it will no longer 'get' me. I WILL allow you your mind block tricks though so that when I look back over my life, which I know in the deep dark recesses of mind that I have lived in turmoil, I will see and remember a life that has been pretty berludy wonderful to date and I shall, every day, look forward to each rising sun . . . . . . . . . . once I have conquered the daily indrawn breath of panic that is!

A little tale of Poo

2008-04-13T16:42:00.005+02:00

Oh lovely it was, just last week, a warm sunny day in April, birds singing, sun shining and all was well with the World – you know the sort of thing.

So there I was out walking the dogs – no one around – breathe out and relax perfect. Then I spied what looked like a tissue. I had to walk right past it so couldn't fail to see it and nooooo it wasn't a tissue. It was a neatly tied white plastic bag full of . . . dog poo . . .yes dog poo, sitting there with great smugness amongst the moss. Eeeeeuuuuooowwwww. It was already sweating in the sun the bacteria inside going rampant in the warmth. Bleah. Ah but wait, maybe the owners of said poo were returning the same way and would be back to retrieve and dispose of the offending article. Comforted that this would be the case I walked on. Pleased that there were people in the world who were thoughtful enough to bag up their dog's poo . . .although burying it would have done. I will point out here that I did not open the bag and investigate – it was obvious enough what was in the bag . . . I do have a life you know.

The next day was chilly and overcast, but ok. The dogs and I set off for our daily walk. And very quickly we encountered another neatly tied bag – black this time – also full of poo . . . Ah well it too was probably waiting to be collected.

Further down the track though we came across bag number one . . .eeeek. Still there and clearly laying claim to its place in our landscape. Berlimey . . . still maybe they would both be collected tomorrow. But no . . . and a week later they are still there. Which led me to thinking WHY!!!! What on earth went through the mind of whoever had done this. They had gone to all the trouble of collecting and bagging up and securing the bag and then . . .just left it there. Was the act of tying the bag the limit of their thought. Or if not, what did they think was going to happen to the bag. Did they imagine the Poo Police would be smartly along to collect it Neeee Naaa Neee Naaaa – thank you kindly sir. Or maybe they had reasoned it was ok to leave them because the bags are bio-degradable. Eeeek the thought of that festering package being eventually released doesn't bear thinking about it. And if that was the thought process that would mean the country side would be littered with neatly tied, bacteria multiplying packages . . . Or maybe they just didn't think . . . but surely there had to be some thought to have taken the doggy bags with them and used them in the first place. Hah this crime would be considered pre – mediated then. I say 'them' because I did come across a non local couple with a small black dog . . . No I didn't ask because they were walking in the 'towards' direction of the poo and at this point I was still hopeful that they might be in return, collect and dispose mode. Sigh . . .nope.

Out in the country side I see no problem with just scooping the poop into a hole and covering it. After all dogs generally try with little success to cover up their 'doings' so I just help things along. Plus there is plenty of poo of various types all over the countryside and I see no point in collecting up my dogs poop in a bag and binning it for someone else to deal with. My dogs, their poo, my problem. Although there is a school of thought that this sort of poo will affect the local ecology and in some areas people are no longer allowed to scatter the ashes of their deceased on the mountains . . .but that is another story.

I would actually love to have an open non-judgemental chat . . .revs chainsaw . . . with someone who has just chucked away their litter in the country side. I genuinely want to know WHY they think it is ok to do this. What do they think is going to happen to their discarded rubbish. There has to be some kind of reasoning even on a subconscious level. Why do people out for a walk in the countryside think it is ok to leave their food packaging and water bottles. Why would they want to spoil the very thing they were surely out to enjoy. I can sort of understand why this can be made ok in towns because there are systems in place for collecting rubbish – supply and demand – although it is still completely wrong. But WHAT is it that makes people wind down their car windows and chuck their rubbish out onto the grass verges, or to stop the car and dump a bin bag by the road side . . . .

Recently someone has gone to the trouble of driving a couple of miles up the track – and it really is just a track – and dumping a load of car tyres . . .er thank you . . . very picture skew. Last year someone dumped a sideboard . . .a little way up the track just off the road . . .mmmmmm. . . One time I caught a white van man trying to dump rubbish in our private bins (they are half a mile from our house at the road end – so rather vulnerable) – Mr van man got quite angry that the bins were locked . . . sigh . . . he was sent very smartly on his way . . .no doubt to dump elsewhere.

And I thought I would leave you with this picture of a car seat sitting out in the middle of the forest . . it has sat where it is for a very long time as you can see by the moss growing on it. Bit of a lateral thinker this one . . .

Maybe someone reading this can enlighten me as to the thought processes that are required to dump rubbish without feeling any guilt . . .and then when I have listened and failed to understand I will introduce TT into the equation.

A Testing Time . . .

2008-04-07T11:10:00.002+02:00

Yes a testing time in more ways than one. Sorry, sorry couldn't resist the pun. Pun, what pun? Read on!!!!

I went to see my Doctor on Friday. I had received a letter from my consultant and wanted to go and discuss it. In short the consultant was confirming Functional Somatic Disorder (which is an umbrella of conditions – none of which I appear to have) . . . and saying that as far as he was concerned any further investigations into my symptoms would be fruitless . . . and then he waffled on about Cognitive therapy and clinical psychology . . . blah blah . . . .berlimey!

Mmmmm as I read the letter I had cartoon visions of me being casually thrown onto the medical garbage heap, wildly clutching at an umbrella. My feelings are that I don't fit into ME, not really, or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, or anything else under the FSD umbrella. Then again as my previous rheumatologist had said to me when I asked about ME etc – he said oh they are just labels given to people when we don't know what is wrong with them!!!!! Terrific. Interestingly my IBS also under FSD has cleared up since I stopped eating wheat! So there goes another one of those illnesses with no know cause for the symptoms . . . it depends where you look.

So I was a bit wound up when I went in to see the Doctor on Friday. HS came with me – whether to support me, or protect the Doctor from my chainsaw I wasn't sure.

All change . . . we had a long chat with the Doctor and in short he doesn't agree with FSD diagnosis either. He says there is evidence of inflammation in my body (which the consultant denied) and his feeling is that given the fact I already have two autoimmune diseases (Hashimoto's and Dry Eye disease) the likelihood is that I have one or more other autoimmune diseases causing my flu like symptoms. He feels that I need a diagnosis, a prognosis and a way of coping . . .I feel I need wine, chocolate and a roll up. He said there is no point going to another consultant in this area as they will just all agree with each other!!!!! So I am now going to Nine Wells hospital in Dundee to see another Rheumatologist (apparently they deal with most of the autoimmune diseases) for more tests. I have been warned it could be another long haul – more waiting, more tests and yet more waiting and no guarantee that they will be able to find out what is wrong. So may be no further forward at the end of it, but at least my Doctor isn't giving up on me and shoving me under an umbrella on a garbage tip.

We did discuss M.E. - in his view true M.E., not to be confused with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome has symptoms which can be tested for and is a recognisable disease - actually recognised by the World Health Organisation . . . something I know Hopping Moon and Tumbling advocate very strongly, but not all the medical profession treat it as a real disease. He also felt I don't fit into ME or CFS . . . yes I have similar symptoms, but I don't have the extreme fatigue, or muscle weakness and I can mostly walk an hour every day which ME and CFS sufferers can't . . . I talked about my concern about my shrinking world and he has suggested that he sends me to see a clinical psychologist to help me deal with what is going on . . .yup love clinical psychologists – I wanted to be one. He also said that it was a vicious downward spiral ie if you go out and feel unwell then you will be less keen to go out next time. True. But I used to find that if I pushed through my symptoms I was ok . . . then over the months I have become less and less ok and yes now I am wary of going out . . . not sure it is a downward spiral though, just that I am actually feeling unwell when I go out. Tricky one. Having said that I have just booked up with Wizzard to go to the Scottish Finals of the SCDA One Act Play in Inverness for three days – so I won't give up pushing the boundaries. Interestingly my Doctor said he didn't believe in CT therapy in my case, or that a course of this would make the symptoms magically disappear . . . Full of surprises my Doctor. He also said that if he did feel that there was no point in continuing looking for a diagnosis for my symptoms he would tell me. And I would listen. And I would trust him.

So back on the merry go round and off the garbage heap and not an umbrella in sight . . . .WHOOP WHOOP.

Tagged - seven things

2008-04-01T20:15:00.002+02:00

Eeeeek I have been tagged . . . seven things about myself - presumably interesting.

1) I was terrified of school, I really really REALLY hated it and hated it right through until I left at 16. I was permanently worried about my homework, I hated doing games. I was hopeless at Maths - although I did love English literature. I was constantly told by my teachers that I lacked confidence - so in the end I did.

2) I spent a lot of my working life working in Television as a VTR operator, an editor, I did a bit of editing. I worked with the studio, Telecine. I did alot of the titling graphics for clients on a machine called an Aston. I used to love my job and couldn't believe I was being paid from something I enjoyed so much. Then came the days of the take overs and suddenly money became more important than quality and the whole post production world turned into a cut throat business. My life was made hell by the company I worked for ( a well known commercial broadcast TV company who had taken over the wonderful company I had been working for) because I didn't fit in anymore and because I was an official in the TV union. In the end I got so fed up with the way I was subjected to regular snide put downs and abuse that I upped and walked out one day and then I sued the arse off the berludy company and got a generous out of court settlement. I have never worked for anyone since - the whole thing scarred me so much . . . then again I LOVE working for myself.

3) With one other VTR operator I did the first ever Sky Broadcast . . . then it only went out for two hours a night and not to the UK! Oh we had so much fun in the early days.

4) I have been married three times. I have obviously got it right now as I have been with HS for 22 years married and 26 years together.

5)I won a national hand writing competition when I was in Middle school and also got highly commended in a national poetry competition at about the same time I think. Also got short listed in the 90's for the One Voice writing competition . . .

6) I have loved animals ever since I was small and rescued a pigeon when I was eight - my first rescue. I ran a Rabbit rescue, for about four years and a Parrot Rescue. I have rescued rats and a ferret and sheep and chickens and cats and dogs and chinchillas . . . and so on . . .oh and of course Cyd my eyed Piranha.

7) I was told when I was in Junior school that I would grow up to be a writer . . . well I guess I did, but haven't had anything major published yet. I had a few minor bits and pieces published under Amber Hunt by Templar Publishing . . . think they are all out of print now and googling Amber Hunt does not bring up my name as my minor success was long before google . . . But I am now writing again - so who knows.

There I think you know enough about me now . . . Oh and I LOVE cheese and onion and marmalade toasted sandwiches - which I am really missing whilst I am on this wheat free diet.

I am not going to tag anyone - but as others have said if you fancy doing your seven things . . .then please consider yourself tagged.

My Best Friend

2008-04-01T01:17:00.000+02:00

Today - the 1st April - is the day that HS and I met 26 years ago . . . and I just wanted to say thank you HS . . . you truly are my best friend . .Best April Fool I have ever had - before someone else says it . . .

It really is the little things.

2008-03-30T14:34:00.002+02:00

I have turned the toaster up' HS announced this morning. 'Thought I had better tell you!'

Um right - not much you can say to that really . . .'er why?'

I was still struggling with the loss of a whole hour this morning and what this meant to my coffee consumption . . .

'Well I have ben leaving it down so that you don't burn anything, but I am just letting you know I have turned it up.'

'OK . . . er thank you, but I'm not eating wheat at the moment . . .so what would I be putting in the toaster?'

HS looked uncomfortable and muttered . . .'well I don't know, but I've left it turned down for you.'

Too good an opportunity to miss I gleefully pointed to his blonde hair . . .

But what really struck me, blonde moment, or not, was the fact that he had been so thoughtful.

It is the little things like that tell me HS loves me.

He has and is being a huge support through the last 18 months with this illness and I never forget that although I am the one with the symptoms he is going through it as well. His support has been unstinting. We have talked a lot and even argued a lot, but he is always there for me. He has taken me to the hospital to see the various consultants and driven me home and listened to me as I worked my way through all that has gone on. He is there when I am in an up mood and there for me on the days that are not so good . . .always there for me.

So thank you HS - your support and all the little things you do really are appreciated. Sometimes words don't seem enough

A Golden Opportunity Part Four

2008-03-26T18:14:00.002+01:00

I was upset and angry when I left the hospital after being told I had a form of M.E. I was confused and my mind was all over the place . . . I honestly didn't know what to think. Part of me thought what if this condescending dismissive man has got it wrong . . . My symptoms have been going on since the late seventies, but we didn't dicuss my symptoms, or my history. Or maybe this is a different disorder . . . what if something has been missed, what if I have something that is curable, but has now worsened and could kill me if not treated, what if I have something that is very simply treatable, but has been missed . . . And I still often get moments like this. Then again would I feel the same whatever I had been diagnosed with. I suspect the problem is that there is no pill popping treatment for M.E the whole diagnosis and treatment is a bit vague . . . then again the chances are I wouldn't have taken any pills they offered me anyway . . .unless it was in the form of a replacement pill type hormone thingy . . . the likes of which I already take in the form of Thyroxine. Berlimey talk about all over the place. I also accept that I have to put eyedrops in my eyes and take take acid inhibitors to prevent scarring in my hernai. I hate taking the anti-migraine pills as I don't know long term what they will do to me and have even wondered it the aching is a way of my migraines coming out elsewhere . . . Who knows and that is the thing, medical science is amazing, but there is more to learn than there is actually known.

Then I started to look at what this meant to me and my life. There is a psychological aspect to M.E ie it seems to affect fit and active high achievers . . . but it is a physical disorder and not all in the mind as was thought years ago . . . except there are no tests done in this country to confirm the disease. So could it be that my mind and body are not in harmony . . . that there is a discord that has probably been present for years and now the body having coped for so long is no not able to cope any more. This is true of many diseases, if not all diseases, but that is another debate. And certainly this way of thinking is exactly what I studied in Reflexology and Stress Management. So where does that leave me. Well it leaves me some pretty horrible physical symptoms with no obvious physical cause and mood swings and disabling tiredness and a shrinking life. But it does give me the opportunity for self development and to really look and I mean really look at me as a person. And a chance to look at what is not good in my head that could in turn be throwing my body out of sync.

I have a negative side to me, we all have our negative side. There is and has been a lot of anger in me and I have watched that come out in various ways. I have a judgemental side and a depressive side, I worry to much and push myself to hard, never feel good enough . . .and so on. So my conclusion is that it is now time to come to terms with my 'negative' thinking and to bring it into a more positive focus. It is so much easier to be negative and angry with the world and the people in it than it is to be calm and peaceful and happy. There are so many external influences telling us how to behave and pointing out how we don't measure up . . . berlimey it is amazing any of us ever get through getting up and getting outside the front door every morning. I know I beat myself up each morning because I am not an early riser . . . I judge myself, by how I think others will judge me . . . but really it is me doing the judging. It is me deciding that I am lazy and no good . . . and waking up in a panic. There is of course the question of where all this conditioning came from . . . I could blame my childhood, other people, everyone, but me . . . but it is my thinking, I am responsible for it and I am responsible for changing it.

My feeling is that when I am able to achieve a calmer more peaceful state of mind then I may also achieve a calmer, more peaceful body and perhaps I will start to feel better and if I don't at least I will be able to cope better. I have noticed that walking every day does help me cope with my symptoms, because I feel so much better mentally after a walk. I feel more positive . . .

And with all the above I could be totally barking up the wrong tree, but even if I am there are still parts of my thinking that I know I am ready to change. I recently found myself forgiving my Father and experiencing the liberation that forgiveness brought. I even found myself no longer being angry at the woman who tried very hard to pinch HS off me a few years ago. It is unlikely I would ever trust her again and unlikely we will be friends, but I no longer feel overwhelming anger when I think of her . . .(firmly puts down chainsaw) . . . . and breathe and relax . . . .rrrRRRRrrrRRR . . .sigh . . . well I will work on that one . . .LOL.

Eeeeeek no I am not about to turn into a paragon of virtue even I couldn't stomach me if I did that and let's face it I would no longer be me and living a lie for a completely different set of reasons . . . but I do honestly think I have been given a Golden Opportunity to look at and challenge long entrenched ways of negative thinking in myself and by slowly altering these to gradually improve and enjoy my life in a way I never have before. But no way am I ever giving up my chainsaw . . . .or chocolate . . .or wine . . . .
.

A Golden Opportunity Part Three

2008-03-19T21:49:00.004+01:00

So there I sat . . . a little hopeful. Maybe just maybe I was going to get a diagnosis at last. There was no examination though, no looking through my list of symptoms, no discussion about my Hashimoto's and my concern that I seem to be losing a lot more hair lately when I wash it – or that my once pronounced eyebrows are getting a bit, well . . patchy, or that the hairs on my legs have stopped growing. The latter usually a sign I need to take more thyroxine. No discussion about any of these things. He looked at my year old blood tests and said I was on plenty of Thyroxine . . .er what about the symptomatic approach . . . I explained that my Doctor and I were happy with the dose – the consultant didn't comment.

So the pronouncement . . .

'You have, (not may have, but have) Functional Somatic Disorder' . . . .

'Pardon.'

'Functional Somatic Disorder.'

'Ok so what is that exactly?'

And the answer was 'well we can't medically diagnose you. All the blood tests done by the Rheumatologist are coming back negative. And I know the Rheumatologist very well.' Uh huh sticking together here me thinks. 'And when there is no clinical diagnosis then you come under the umbrella of Functional Somatic Disorder.'

Ah so I don't have Functional Somatic Disorder, but I come under it's umbrella?'

'Yes.'

'Meaning?'

'Well lots of disorders that we can't diagnose with tests come under this M.E., Firbromyalgia, PMS, IBS . . . blah blah blah and studies have shown that psychology plays a part in these diseases.'

'So are you suggesting this is all in my head?'

'No not at all, just that certain personality types fit into this bracket. As studies show.'

' OK! So are you saying I have M.E.?'

' . . well you have a lot of the symptoms although your fatigue doesn't seem to be that severe.' He then drew a diagram with all the various illnesses and explained how the symptoms all overlapped and I was in the overlap somewhere . . .somewhere . . .where?

Wow how clever – he had seen me for ten minutes, on a good day and had already worked out that my fatigue wasn't that bad (really!) and he had worked out what was wrong with me when no-one since the 1970's had been able to. And all this without discussing any of my symptoms and despite the fact that my symptoms aren't typical of any of the things he had mentioned.

He did say that he would arrange for me to have a blood test for my Adrenal Glands, but wasn't expecting anything abnormal. He then went on to say that once I'd had the test then he would ask my Doctor to arrange to Cognitive Therapy to help me cope with my symptoms. I asked about the mouth biopsy that said I had mild chronic inflammation. The consultant flipped through my notes and said he had no such letter! 'But my Doctor is under the impression that I have inflammation in my muscles', I insisted, not that I particularly want inflammation in my muscles, 'but my Doctor was so definite about it.'

' Well the evidence I have here is that you don't,' pronounced the lofty consultant. He then printed off a self help manual on M.E. To be collected at the front desk and said goodbye . . . .

Berlimey . . . do I have M.E, I thought he said I didn't? What is going on. He told me he was printing off some information about Functional Somatic Disorder and gives me a manual on ME.

My first reaction was to be very upset. I didn't want a disease, disorder that had such a stigma attached to it. A disorder that was once thought to be 'yuppy flu' and like depression all you had to do was 'pull yourself together'. Once the consultant had made his pronouncement it was very clear that he was 'done' and just wanted me gone. I felt like a time waster. There was nothing to prove I was ill. All I had now was exactly what I started with – how ill I feel. . . my word against the world. Much much easier in some ways to have a definite disease.

A lot of this reaction stems back to nearly being sacked from work with my days off due to migraines. My employers didn't believe me and wanted me to go into a work when I had a migraine so that they could see for themselves how ill I was. Go into work – but I was constantly throwing up . . . anyway that is another story and discussed in a previous blog. I was and am worried what if 'they' have got it wrong. My vet was diagnosed with M.E – later on turned out he had Q disease. I can never get to grips with people not believing me. I was brought up to tell the truth and am always gob-smacked when I realise people think I am lying. The situation with the migraines and my work cut very deep.

I guess I was worried too about what people would think of me . . . Would people even believe I was ill. After all most of the time I look alright and on the surface can function ok. It is only in private that I know the extent of my illness. Some days I ache, but have energy and feel on top. Some days I ache, have no energy, but still feel on top. Some days I ache, have no energy and feel so down and tearful and doing even the simplest task seems impossible. My aching seems to target different areas on different days. Sometimes my legs and ankles and feet. Sometimes my hands wrists and ankles, sometimes my shoulders – sometime altogether. But always there are specific points. If I knock myself, or hurt myself the pain felt is completely out of proportion with the injury. I fell over in the mud yesterday and know have pain in my hip and back and running down the front of my leg. I know this will last a few of days and be impossible to get comfortable – but from experience it doesn't usually last any longer than that.

One thing I have found is that my World is shrinking. I no longer do drama, have turned down the Uni course I was going to do on person Centred Counselling. I have resigned from all the committees I was on. I do go to the village at least once a week, but rarely go out in the evening now. I was so worried about how I was going to be when KittyB and Faith were here – but I was ok. Same with Blossom, except for one evening I was ok there too. I walk everyday for an hour, or more. Sometimes I come back from the walk still aching, but energised and coping. Other times I struggle to walk. I avoid planning anything in case I can't do it – I hate letting people down. The level of aching does go up and down. I have had periods where it is only just there in the background and I have been able to function pretty normally. Then it all comes back again and I have to live, as now, day to day.

So in short Thursday's sentence left me feeling tearful, and generally pretty hopeless. I was left with an illness, disorder, whatever, that was making my shrinking life hell and although it wasn't causing me any damage and wasn't going to kill me there was no indication of how long it was going to go on for. Interestingly my cousin who has Hashimoto's – also had M.E. We hardly ever speak though . . . Her's lasted two years.

I have started to read my self help manual and so far I am already doing all the self help things they suggest. And have already found out that resting actually seems to make my symptoms worse. Whereas generally I can push through, there are times when I have no choice but to rest. A nasty quirk of nature is that my illness, as with many illnesses, it causes sleep disturbance and like last night once awake the pain keeps me awake. Then I am tired as well as fatigued the next day which means I don't cope as well. I am very reluctant to take pain killers as at one point with my migraines I was taking 15 paracetamol and codeine a day – usually three every three hours when I had a migraine – I don't want to go down the addiction route again. I save them for when things are really bad.

So this was where I was last Thursday at stage one – through the weekend I was rapidly to go through other stages . . . . but will tell you more about that in the next few blogs.

P.S Today is the day I joined CL a year ago year!!!!!!

COMMENTS MOVED OVER FROM NOW DELETED HEALTH BLOG

elizabethd said...
It'd difficult to know how to comment, except to say that you are so constantly cheerful, amusing and such a good Headmistress, and also going through all that too. Very brave.

19 March 2008 06:56

westerwitch/headmistress said...
Thanks ED - sorry yes I think alot of people are finding the same - that it is difficult to know what to say - the blog is being looked a,t but no-one is commenting.

For my part it is something I have been going through for years now and I needed to write it all down and my process of working through it all and how I am coping. I want to get it all out of my head and down on 'paper' and also to share it in the hope that it will reach out to someone. Gawd that sounds terribly noble - but you know what I mean.

19 March 2008 07:10

lampworkbeader said...
WW If it does turn out to be ME there is not stigma about it nowadays. It was years ago that it was called, rather unkindly, yuppie flu, and then only by the really ignorant.
I have know children with ME and there are a lot of things that a person can do to manage the illness, but I am sure you know that as well as anyone.
I have no suggestions to make it better, but i guesss cyber friendship won't make it any worse. So lots of love LWB

19 March 2008 11:55

A Golden Opportunity Part Two.

2008-03-19T21:45:00.004+01:00

Things did indeed change in June 2006 – but to explain why I need to back track to Feb 2006. I examine my breasts now and again – not as often as I should I know – and I found an abnormality. It wasn't a lump, just odd – not quite right. I went to the Doctor who was pretty certain that is was not a tumour. He however referred me to hospital anyway just in case. I wasn't seen until May – but I was a non urgent case. I had expected to be told everything was ok and that would be an end of it. Instead I was given all sorts of tests including needle biopsy, mammogram, and a scan. The scan and mammogram were inconclusive on one side, but showed a shadow on the other side – the 'normal' side. Another scan at a later time showed this to be a cyst which was drained there and then.

The consultant was still not happy and decided to remove the abnormal material by surgery. This was done in Stirling general in the middle of June. I also had another lump removed as well, which came up a couple of weeks before the surgery. A biopsy was taken of the abnormal tissue and the lump. Long story short , my lump was made from dis-organised cells and I was told I have Fibrocystic Breast Disease – a benign condition. Phew big relief. The abnormality I had felt was enlarged milk glands – a condition called Duct Ectasia another benign condition. So although I am liable to have cysts and lumps pop up from time to time it is unlikely to be anything to worry about.

A week after the operation I started aching. Inconvenient, but been through it before, so just thought it is a time thing. Then the weeks started to go by and the aching continued and got worse. I still tried to ignore it. We were in the process of selling our house to Lixtroll and peat and moving ourselves into the newly rebuilt Steading. I put it down to a viral thing plus stress.

Two months went by and still no sign of relief and I was becoming worried. I went to see the Doctor. He thought I had a rheumatic type condition and gave me steroids. Which helped, but seriously upset my stomach. He then tried various treatments before referring me to a Rheumatologist. I got an appointment in November 2006. It was then I was told I had Sjogren's Syndrome and put on anti malarial tablets. No not because I had been playing with mosquitoes, but because the pills have a side effect of relieving the aching associated with Sjogren's. I was given various blood tests to confirm the Sjogren's and it was assumed that this was just a formality. I already had the dry eyes, dry nose and aching. They did the Schirmer test on my eyes which confirmed that I had dry eye disease. I had to stop taking the anti malarial pills in January because I had thought they were upsetting my stomach.

Then in March 2007 I went to see the Rheumatologist again - all blood tests had came back negative. So I was left no-where. More tests ensued. A mouth biopsy was booked, but that took months to come through. All the blood tests were coming back within normal range. I was left hanging with no further appointment until after the mouth biopsy and with no idea what was going on with me. And with no form of treatment. In the end we paid for me to see a private consultant. I unfortunately saw the same one that I was seeing on the NHS – he was a bit less dismissive of me as a private patient, but not much. He came up with a few more blood tests. They all proved negative. I finally had the mouth biopsy in October – nearly a year after I first went to see the consultant. The mouth biopsy showed that I had mild chronic inflammation, but not what was causing it and confirmed that I didn't have Sjogren's. I expressed surprise at the mild bit of the inflammation – my Doctor said that my symptoms fluctuated and a biopsy of my muscles during a bad flare up would confirm chronic inflammation. But at least this proved I had inflammation.

After all this I got a letter in the November from my consultant saying there was nothing more they could do for me and they didn't need to see me again. No referral, no advice - nothing – just dumped. I felt very let down.

Also at some point during all this between breast problems and aching, my mammogram results got lost along with all my notes which made life difficult when seeing anyone at the hospital. I complained on several occasions, but everyone just seemed to shrug and come up with all the problems of the hospital. My notes appear to have been found now, but were missing for about a year. So as you can imagine my faith in the NHS has taken a battering over the last 21 months.

Meanwhile In December I was sent to have a gastroscopy - which showed that my stomach problems (which had started in January) were being caused by a Hiatus Hernia . . .The time delay here was me – I refused to go for the tube down the throat treatment . . . I had had it done before without sedation and didn't like it. This time I noisily demanded the drugs and got them. Much better. I didn't see the consultant afterwards was just told you have a hernia – go and see your Doctor in two weeks . . .er thanks . . .Thank goodness for the internet. Every patient being diagnosed at the hospital where I have been should be told how to Google their symptoms it is the only way they are going to find any information on what is wrong with them.

I went back AGAIN to my Doctor. Firstly to discuss medication for my Hiatus Hernia. I took and still take the acid inhibitors – to avoid scarring of the stomach wall in the future. I was given other pills to empty my stomach quicker. I have stopped taking these as I didn't like the side effects and didn't feel they helped at all. Next on my list I asked my wonderful patient (sorry pun) if seeing a Endocrinologist would be a good idea in case my aching and tiredness symptoms were linked to my Hashimoto's. He agreed and a letter went off. I was hopeful. I hadn't seen a consultant about my Hashimoto's since 2004 and there were a few questions I wanted to ask – plus the aching and symptoms I had were very similar to the ones I'd had in the couple of years before I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's. My Doctor also said that if we drew a blank with the Endocrinologist then we could look at seeing an immunologist. He felt it was important to get a diagnosis and treatment and a prognosis of what was going on with me.

I got an appointment to go and see the consultant on March 13th at 14.30. One minute I was hopeful and the next thinking it was a waste of time . . then I thought this is just part of the elimination process and necessary.

So last Thursday I went to see the Consultant. We ended up not discussing the Hashimoto's at all. He clearly had read through my blood tests and some of my history and had already made up his mind as to what was wrong with me before he even met me, or examined me. I had written out a list of all my symptoms in the hope that this would help with the diagnosis – the Consultant said 'thanks for that', but didn't even glance at it, or ask to examine me. Then he sat there and told me what he thought was wrong with me . . . Quick bombshell and here's the door . . . . although I had trouble understanding what he was saying and kept asking questions. I was told that I would be tested for Adrenal gland function (I think this will be at my Doctor's but I was having trouble concentrating), but that he fully expected it to be ok. So I was sent home with a self help manual to read and a head full of questions, eyes full of tears and a heart full of lead. I felt dismissed yet again. But I will go into what happened and how I am coming to terms with it all in the next few blogs.

COMMENTS MOVED OVER FROM HEALTH BLOG

milla said...
Bloody hell, have just read the last two at a sitting and am gob-smacked. How do you keep so cheerful! No wonder you've made a friend of a chainsaw, sounds like it needs to be revved at the consultant. And the ninny who lost your notes. You poor thing (mindful of Ivy: this is NOT sympathy ...!)

18 March 2008 07:07

suffolkmum said...
I've just done the same as Milla - read it all in one go. Without meaning to sound like a rubbernecker I am keen to know what his diagnosis is, and whether it has helped or not (or indeed is accurate). Talk about going through the mill. x

18 March 2008 07:19

chrish said...
Had a rather bruising encounter with a consultant last week myself - got rather brusque treatment for daring not to have osteoporisis like Ma. Left reeling but well - goodness know how you're coping after your session.

18 March 2008 09:40

tattie weasle said...
I love the NHS for emergencies but for everything else it can be a problem perhaps taking your trusty chainsaw along??? No perhaps we don't want them getting the wrong idea! We DO need you around you know...
Like so many I think you are QUITE QUITE amazing!

18 March 2008 13:48

cait o'connor said...
I agree with all that has been said, you are are amazing. I look forward to hearing the diagnosis.

18 March 2008 15:00

exmoorjane said...
My God, you must have been spitting blood (well, obviously I don't mean literally spitting blood) but so much ineptitude....makes me want to rev up my own chainsaw. jxxxx

19 March 2008 04:27

A Golden Opportunity Part One

2008-03-19T21:40:00.003+01:00

At last I have diagnosis of what is wrong with me. Which has invoked all sorts of emotions. Proving again that you never know how you are going to react to in any given situation until you are actually faced with it.

So to get this all straight in my head I am going to take a leaf out of Country Craft Angels book and blog it through.

I have had a life dogged with ill health. Migraines from the age of 11 – happily they are at long last under control with medication and have been for four years. I have Hashimoto's Disease, a Hiatus Hernia, tinnitus, intermittent IBS and possibly the beginnings of diverticulitis. I used to have severe clinical depressions, but that has lifted and I haven't suffered from it since the 80's. I am also an anorexia sufferer – although it is very much under control now . . . then again that is what anorexia is all about isn't it - control. All of my 'illnesses, disorders, syndromes – whatever you want to call them are controllable (that word again) either with pills, or diet and I have been pretty much able to live a normal life. And most of the above have happened later in life and therefore it is not unexpected for health problems to appear as you get older.

Running alongside this since the late 70's has been my flu like aching and tiredness. It used to appear a couple of times a year usually for about a month, or so and was very debilitating. I put it down to having flu, or some virus. It rarely lasted longer than a month. At some point I was sent to the hospital and investigated for rheumatism and arthritis, but all tests came back clear. It was very worrying at the time of each bout to feel so ill, especially as I couldn't work and there was always the fear of losing my job . . . as had almost happened with my migraines. However each time all the symptoms would gradually go away and then vanish completely. I would get all my energy back and life would go on as before.

I had my children in the late 80's. Both by caesarian as I had high blood pressure both times and placenta previa with the first pregnancy, but apart from that the pregnancies went well. Although I landed up in hospital a month before Wildchild was born with a corker of a migraine and high blood pressure – I was kept in for a month. I was sooooo noisy they put me in a side ward . . . we were all having too much fun in the pre-natal ward and my blood pressure was through the roof. They tried sedating me – but gave up as it had no effect – my room was out of bounds to all my new friends, but there was no stopping me. Still I had a hoot and came out of it with a gorgeous baby. Second time around – ended up in hospital again with a migraine and high blood pressure. I didn't take to any of the girls I was on the ward with, so I behaved myself and was let home until I went back in for the caesarian.

I loved being a Mum, but bringing up two children when you have severe migraines was pretty grim at times – but the good times were far more than the bad healthwise and somehow I got through it.

Then in the early 1990's the usual twice yearly aching kicked in, but this time it didn't go. It dragged on week after week. I had no energy and yet somehow I had to continue looking after the children and also running my children's clothing business. My Doctor did some blood tests and said all was fine and then tried to tell me I was depressed which was making me ill. I tried to explain that I was ill which was bringing me down – but I wasn't depressed. No-one listened. Two years went by. I had some remission – but when the aching and tiredness did come back it was always for months at a time and I was scared that it would never stop. It was a very black time for me. I can remember sitting and staring into space wondering if this was it for the rest of my life. I hit rock bottom and really didn't know how I was going to go on.

I had no quality of life and was getting really desperate. I changed Doctors within the practice and then EVERYTHING changed. The new Doctor, a woman, had me tested for an underactive thyroid. Apparently I had been tested before and because my blood tests were borderline the previous Doctor had chosen not to treat me . . . he didn't even discuss it with me. My new blood tests came back borderline also, but my Doctor decided to treat me for my symptoms. And within six weeks HELLOO LIFE . . . I was taking Thyroxine which as far as I was concerned was a miracle drug. I no longer ached, I had energy, life was good again. Yes I still had the migraines, but I'd always had those and life in-between them was amazing. Interestingly I developed Tinnitus at the same time as the underactive thyroid.

Bless my Doctor she still wasn't satisfied and sent me to see an Endocrinologist because she was wondering if I had Hashimoto's disease.

MMMMmmmm I saw the consultant. He had a room full of students and was clearly showing off. He asked my to lift up my chin and swallow . . . which showed off my enlarged Thyroid gland and said that yes I had Hashimoto's Yup that was it no blood tests no history taking – no discussion just swallow and diagnose. He then put me on a massive dose of thyroxine replacement – saying that my thyroid was going to fail completely anyway so might as well get me on the dose I would eventually be taking.

Within a few weeks I was climbing the walls. I was paranoid, tight with tension the whole time, anxious, having heart palpitations and panic attacks . . .in short I was on a massive overdose of Thyroxine. My lovely Doctor put me back on a much lower does and explained that I would need to play around with my dosage until I found what suited to me and that it was not uncommon for it to take two years to get the dosage right. Plus as the Hashimoto's killed my thyroid I would need to increase my Thyroxine over time. I have indeed played around with the dosage over the years and my current Doctor is happy for me to control my own symptoms in this way.

And so life went on and up until 18 moths ago I had been fairly stable. Bouts of aching and tiredness still came and went, but no prolonged spells of feeling ill. Gradually my Thyroxine increased over the years from 50mcg to 225mcg – with a few hiccups in my dosage, but nothing catastrophic.

Four years ago, after I had been through the menopause, medication that hadn't previously worked on preventing my migraines suddenly did and just like that I had my life back , I could plan ahead and things were looking good.

But all that changed dramatically at the end of June 2006.

Comments moved over from Health blog

lampworkbeader said...
Hi WW I am afraid to say I haven't even heard of some of the things you have to live with on a daily basis, other's are only too familiar.
Take care of yourself and continue listening to your body..love LWB

16 March 2008 10:21

littlebrowndog said...
Crikey, WW - that all sounds pretty horrendous! I too get migraines - although thankfully not as regularly as it sounds like you do - and know how utterly debilitating they can be. Will read your continued story with interest.

LBD xx

16 March 2008 10:22

chrish said...
Hmm, I feel somewhat ashamed of having a bit of a grizzle when you (and LBD above) are coping with so much. Migraines are difficult enough in themselves - I go through phases of them - but put them with all the other symptoms you've had to deal with and I wonder that you've achieved so much.

16 March 2008 11:04

faith said...
Poor you, it all sounds so horrible, and yet you seemed so vibrant when Kitty and I visited. Two out of my three sisters, and a dear friend of mine, have had thyroid problems so I know what all that is about - shudder.

16 March 2008 11:47

cait o'connor said...
I hope you get things sorted WW. I hardly ever get a migraine now, one of the (many!) joys of coming through the menopause.Have you tried cranial osteopathy by the way? And Reiki or healing. I can recommend both.

16 March 2008 15:16

cowgirl said...
Oh, WW, what a lousy time. And not just for a little while either. You manage so well, you make me ashamed of the times when I have my mini-meltdowns (quite often at present). The key seems to be a great GP, thank heaven's yours is one of these, do take care.

xxxx

17 March 2008 00:27

exmoorjane said...
Yup, ditto to what the others have said. YOu have a plateful and no question about it. I do hope you're very kind to yourself through all this..and know what's coming next! jxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

19 March 2008 04:22

Junk Mail and how to deal with it.

2008-03-12T18:10:00.004+01:00

Well we all get it don't we? Reams of unwanted junk mail stalking us through the letterbox.

Ah hah . . .but I have a tried and trusted method of halting the flow considerably if not quite stopping it altogether.

DON'T throw your junk mail away - no honestly don't, or recycle it . . Leave it for a few days and when you have a small collection of your junk mail available lay all the envelopes out in a line. Open them and take out all the envelopes so kindly supplied by each company and lay them out in a line too and then swap all the junk mail around into each other's envelopes, plus the envelope it arrived in and send it off. Alot of junk mailers don't provide envelopes anymore (cheapaskates) - so just re-use one of the other junk mail envelopes . . putting the new address on the front. Or if the envelope is too small cut the address off and stick onto another envelope. Ok I know you will have to stump up for the cost of the glue, or celloptape . . . but it is worth it just to stem the flow of junk.

I usually add a note to each letter saying - you send me your junk mail and I will send you mine.

Also for mail shot charity letters sent with a pen, or other gimmick - I return the pen, or gimmick. I personally would prefer to give to my chosen charities directly rather than contribute financially to the mail shot company, plus I don't want the 'guilt' of having the pen etc.

I have been doing this for many years now and my junk mail has reduced a great deal. And (ooooo love starting a sentence with And) in all the years I have been doing it I have only every had one company phone me up and tell me that I had sent them something by mistake . . . .HAH I had a wonderful time explaining that no it was quite deliberate . . .

Pity we can't do the same with email - I have tried to forward emails to different companies - but usually the email address bounces back. So I just keep on adding them all to my spam box.

So you can't beat them . . . join them and have fun.

My Homework

2008-03-09T19:40:00.004+01:00

My Homework

Well its about berludy time really . . . they have both done their homework.

So back to Friday 29th February. I had spent a couple of days Spring cleaning the house. Partly because - well it needed it and it always makes me feel internally calm when the house is clean and partly because we were about to get two visitors. Plus these visitors although staying in Cesspit Cottage would be spending a fair bit of time in our house. And no-one writes in my dust.

Well you know what it is like when guests are arriving you can't settle. So I spent the morning fussing around, doing everything and achieving nothing. The weather got worse and worse with sky black, huge gusts of wind chucking gouts of water at the house. Our living room is up in the eves and therefore it gets a bit noisy when the weather is rough.

The 'girls' finally arrived about 15.00. The weather had calmed for a brief spell. And there they were spilling out of Kitty's car chatting away, producing cakes and pink champagne and chocolates and bags and gifts, including a voucher from La Senza from Faith . . and more chatter. We all piled over to Cesspit Cottage which met with their instant approval. Then HS and I left Kitty and Faith to get settled and come over to ours when they were ready.

And later they did indeed arrive and tea was drunk and then wine opened and chocolate and lemon fairy cakes consumed. Oh and Kitty is an amazing cook. At least I think that was the order of how things went . . it all seemed to happen in a laughter filled blur. HS cooked Lasagne and we were then joined by Lixtroll and Humpty. We had our first ever official Purplecoo meeting - and out of that came alot of good ideas about the Calendar . .books . . .galleries . . .we shall see - might work, might not. We ate and drank and all got on . . .well I could say like a house on fire . . . berlimey. I of course - true to form said very little.

I won't say too much about Faith and Kitty as they themselves chose not to. In brief Faith is tall and has a quiet confident air about her. She kept reminding me of my late Aunt that I was very close to. Kitty is smaller - fractionally shorter than me and has a charming confidence about her - they both have a wicked sense of humour. Faith is fair and Kitty dark. Very different people and yet we all gelled. Think it was late before we all retired. Worn out.

Then Saturday . . . berlimey another blur of a day . . . Faith went off with HS to do her shoot and I dragged KittyB out on one of my favourite walks. So lovely to be able to share something that I enjoy so much with a Purplecooer. We were out for a couple of hours and got back just as Faith and HS had finished Faith's shoot. We had lunch and then it was Kitty's turn to be photographed. I quickly washed the dogs as they had 'rolled' and then sat and chatted to Faith.

Shoots over – time for wine and cooking. I had chosen to cook a dish that requires a lot of fiddling about and so we all mucked in only to discover no cooking oil . . . .eeeeek how did I forget that. We all took the opportunity to go down to our local village and show it off whilst I raided the Co-op for oil. . .I took money this time so the chainsaw stayed at home.

Then back to Château Cesspit and then we opened the wine and finished cooking. Another evening filled with chatter and eating and drinking and cementing new found friendship. Once again I of course said very little – content just to listen . . .

Where did the time go. What happened it was already Sunday. Kitty and Faith went over to do a few more shots in the studio – then they very kindly cooked breakfast for us and then . . .and then . .they were gone. . . .sob . . .and our weekend was all over.

Thank you to both Kitty and Faith we had a brilliant weekend. You were both excellent company and both HS and I hope it won't be too long before we meet you again.

I have seen the photos and said what I think to each of you . . .in short for both of you excellent . . .yes yes I know I am biased as HS was the photographer, but I am also his harshest critic . . . I think the work you all produced was first class.

A day in the life of Westerwitch

2008-03-05T18:36:00.002+01:00

I am up bright and early every morning come summer and winter, rain, or shine at 5.00am oiling and sharpening my trusty chainsaw. Only kidding. . . . about the 5.00am bit that is . . .

I am one of the lucky ones – I work from home, am totally self employed and can make my hours up to suit myself. I am not an early bird . . . so 8.30 – 9.00 will see me greeting the day along with a cup of tea from HS. I agonised over telling you how late I get up and I feel so guilty . . but pah . . .I have a chainsaw and I don't care.

Once up I have a very light Muller type rice snack and coffee – to avoid too much wheat. I feed the goldfish and tropical fish and get Cyd's food out of the freezer – then I feed the dogs. Once fed a mad scrabbling ensues at the French windows – by the dogs I hasten to add, not me and we all pile out into the day to pee and poo . . . THE DOGS . . . sigh . . . . . and then we go and say hello to the sheep and give them their hay and feed. We used to feed and let the chickens out at this point – but no more thanks to Mr Fox. If the weather is bad I take the sheep's food up to the newly build lean to and slightly over shelter – if not I feed them down by the gate.

The dogs and I then set off for our morning walk – sometime accompanied by HS. For the last 18 months I have suffered with this annoying aching all over - as though I have flu – but a walk in the morning usually helps a lot. It certainly lifts my mood and the aches definitely seem to recede into the background. I love walking around where we live it is soooooo beautiful and looks different ever day. I often take my camera and easily loose an hour snapping away.

Back from the walk – more Muller Rice and coffee and then onto the computer.

First job is to check and answer enquires for Cesspit Cottages and to follow through with any bookings. Then I deal with the advertising, pay any bills blah blah blah – although most of the latter is done on a Monday along with going to the mobile bank – taking the Cottage laundry to . .well . . the laundry – getting rid of the bottles at the bottle bank and so on. Saturday is usually turn over and cleaning day. Friday I might much out our house.

And (look Milla I am starting a paragraph with And . . .revs chainsaw) at last on to my favourite bit of the day . . . Purplecoo. I check through the posts and comment on the ones that I haven't commented on from the night before. Every single comment from the Common Room is emailed to me by the site and I do read EVERY single one . . .so beware . . .At this point I also answer emails from Purplecooers that have come in overnight. I then move onto the Forum and have a trawl through. If I am taking part in a discussion then I am alerted to replies – as you all can be. As for the rest I just go through and read everything. I can, I think, have every comment in the Forum emailed to me as well – but my email in-box might get a bit swamped – so I just wander through the forums. I also answer my PM's at this point. Once up to date I then move onto the Blog Announcements and see who has blogged. I then read and comment on those blogs – time allowing. I am also still trying to catch up everyone's Day in the Life Of.

The above I then do all over again periodically throughout the day – such is the beauty of working for yourself.

A lot of my time used to be taken up by studying and I was indeed planning to do my training for the Person Centred Counselling this coming September. I have however turned down my place – partly because of the aching – I simply could not cope with a course right now and partly because I have decided to return to my writing. I have a children's book written ready for editing. It was, a long time ago, given the thumbs up by my agent – once I had done the re-writing of course. I have spent several years running away from it all (mainly because of the previous let down over the TV series and publication of a previous book . . . after which I decided I was poooo). So now I am back to writing and all that entails during a working day. I am currently re-reading my book and making notes and planning how to move forward. The book has a good story, but needs a lot of work and is full of holes – but nothing I can't fix . . .I did actually have my fingers crossed as I said that – gawd what if I really am poooo. Will also need to find another Agent . . . mine fled the country . . .eeeek. . . .see pooooooo.

I usually work up until six with frequent breaks throughout the whole day to check on PC and answer emails, read comments etc and today I have done a lot of playing in the Forum and we now have a Private Forum taaaaa daaaa . . .there you see how easy it is to avoid writing. And next I am going to do water changes in all three tanks for my fish . . .eeeek is that the time – tomorrow, I'll do it tomorrow.

HS and I usually get together and cook and eat about seven and then 'blob' for the evening although my trusty computer is never far away and I frequently check on PC. It is at this point that HS might complain a bit as although we live and work in the same house we do have our own office each and don't see much of each other through the day and to have me ignoring him and tappety tapping on the computer all evening does get a bit much sometimes.

We tend to watch TV together at around nine – usually a drama, or film – although I confess I do have the soaps on earlier in the evening . . . as moving wallpaper. Not that I would dream of watching them, or listening to them . . .goodness me no . . . .

I am a late bird and bedtime is often not until after midnight – HS as well. Then I take painkillers and read until the painkillers dampen down the aching and then I go to sleep. Ready to start the day at the crack of 5.00am . . . . with my trusty chainsaw.

So that's me . . . and barely a mention of a chainsaw . . .which is bright yellow by the way.

For the Love of a Fish

2008-02-18T12:26:00.002+01:00

For the love of a fish

Yes that's right a bloomin fish.

I first saw Cyd from a distance at Dobbie's last October. Dobbie's being a Garden Centre. This particular Dobbie's is in Stirling and has an aquarium section.

I had gone to Dobbie's with HS to meet up with Wildchild and Robot Boy and his new girlfriend – all in honour of the fact that Jonna was over from Montana and wanted to see all of us – but that is another tale. We all had lunch together and I can recommend the food at Dobbie's . . .not a single cocktail skewered club sandwich in sight.

After the meal we all wandered around Dobbie's and I purposefully meandered and steered everyone into the aquarium section – I'd had it all planned out since April you see – I wanted a big fish tank for my birthday in December and then two Parrot Fish for my Xmas present – controlling ME!!!! Pah – read on . . . arms folded, foot tapping . . .

As we looked around the various aquariums Jonna pointed to a large and well planted tank and said that's a nice fish . . . I turned and looked and WOW . . . something about that fish . . . WOW . . . NO, NO I want Parrot Fish, but I had to ask anyway, well of course I did, I mean well, didn't I?. I was told that it was a Piranha fish . . .eeeeeeeeek . . and that it had only one eye . . . ahhhhhh and that it had been bullied by the other piranha fish and had to be separated from them AHHHHHHHHH . . .and that it was the shop pet . . . ohhhhhh . . .no, no . . that's good, very good because I wanted Parrot Fish. . . .

So the weeks to Xmas began to skitter by. Any excuse and I would go to Stirling and casually drop into Dobbie's and talk about tanks and Parrot Fish and how to look after them . . . and every time I went to see the Piranha. At first he was in the same tank I had originally seen him in and he looked happy. Then he got moved into a little square tank all on his own. WHY? Because the fish he had been swimming with had all died of old age (berlimey that has to be good if you are living with a piranha) . . . and the tank was being cleaned out and re-planted and he might, or might not be returned to the tank. OH . . . NO!!!! The piranha over the next few weeks seemed to spent all his time up against a piece of black mesh in the far corner of the tank and looked . . .well . . . .frankly, miserable. Then he got white spot . . . . a fish disease . . .often brought on by stress . . . .NO, NO, too much, far, FAR, too much . . .so . . . I asked Dobbie's if they would consider selling the Piranha to me . . . . .mmmmmm . . . . .wellllllll . . . .yes we would . . . .£5.00 . . . Kerching . . . .

WOW . . . .REALLY . . . . .eeeeeeek . . . .OK . . .gulp . . . .Visions of parrot Fish swimming out of my well planned window.

Told HS my mad plan . . . .he was not keen . . . .but long . . .yawn . . .story short . . .we talked it all through and my darling man bought me a 125 Litre Tank for my Birthday on the 13th December. We set the tank up and left it for a week to 'mature' . . . then plotted to pick up Oscar . . .or Pip . . as I had planned to call the Piranha, on the 23rd December – the same day we were picking Robot Boy up. So big Xmas home coming in more way than one.

I phoned Dobbie's a couple of days beforehand to control – I mean organise the collection. The fish had recovered from his white spot and was ready to be picked up. I was also told that my special fish had bitten one of the people working at Dobbie's – he had poked my fish – gently – on his blind side because a customer had said he thought the fish was dead . . . . SNAP . . . he wasn't and bit the finger that prodded him.

Pick up day . . . with Son and Xmas shopping all done and dusted we went to collect Cyd . . . .yup that was his new name. . . Cyd Vicious – well what else could I possibly call him? At Dobbie's I was shown the injured finger – Cyd had bitten a perfect circle out of the offending digit . . . .respect from me – pain and a TB injection for the owner of the digit. . . Cyd was bagged up ready for the journey to his new home. . . .STOP . . .should that bag be pouring water all over the floor like that!!!!!!! Yikes, Cyd had bitten through the bag – a perfect circle – he was double bagged and double bit through them all – more perfect circles. So Cyd travelled home in a bucket . . . I actually felt sick with nerves what . . .yes WHAT had I taken on – this was a very far shriek from the gentle Parrot Fish I had been planning since April . . . I now owned a finger savaging, bag shredding streak of teeth.

We got Cyd home without incident and even got him into the tank without a problem. Cyd appeared to settle into his tank very quickly. He ate his first cooked shrimp the next day and although he hid most of the time all seemed well. HAH no berludy chance . . . all was NOT well. A greyish patch developed on his blind side . . .it got bigger every day . . . a dash to Dobbie's, complete with pictures of the offending patch, produced the explanation . . . an ULCER . . .what . . .I didn't know fish could get ulcers. Well since that horrible day I have learned quite a lot that I didn't know about fish . . . I have learned how to test the tank water and proudly own a whole army of test kits. I have learned a bit about the common fish diseases and how to treat them and now have a fish medicine cabinet. I have learned about filters and motors and powerheads and heaters and Nitrites and Nitrates and Ammonia and PH and KH and the sheer sickening feeling that you get when your special fish is ill. I have a collection of test tubes and litmus strips and various coloured charts to compare my tank water against . . .and drawers full of stuff . . .loads and loads of stuff . . . .

It took several weeks and two different medications to cure Cyd of his ulcer. Cyd appeared to react to the second lot of medication and stopped eating . . . oh the stomach churning horror of it all . . . I did 2x25% water changes added tonic salt, did a lot of pacing . . . and looking pale and worried . . .I even joined a Piranha Forum . . .good grief did you know most Piranha owners are male and some have very sexist avatars . . .eeerrrreeerk, but helpful advice, if you can ignore jiggling bosoms and the like. AND then YES, WHOOP - WHOOP Cyd started eating again. I reckon a mixture of medication and me keeping the light off too much and allowing my plants to put too much Carbon Dioxide in the water was the cause of the problem. . . maybe. . . .

Oh good grief what an emotional wringer I have bought. How on earth can one fish be so complicated. He got seriously upset when I put the overhead lights on at 5.00am one morning – I was taking our Collie out – she had runs. Cyd shot up through the water and I heard the clunk on the tank canopy . . . . thank goodness I had a tank canopy . . .no-one in their right mind would want to pick up a scared thrashing Piranha from the floor. Cyd must have banged his head quite hard because he developed pop eye . . . NOOOOO – his one eye all swelled up and I thought he was going to lose it. I got more medication only to discover I couldn't use it because Piranhas can react very badly to it (malachite green in case you were wondering . . no . . oh well). . . .then the Pop Eye just cleared up on its own. AND . . . Breathe . . . .and relax . . .

I now only have table lamps in the fish room (it was MY office once) I have taken the bulbs out of the overhead lights. Cyd sulked for a day when I used the hoover in my room . . .I took up my lovely brown fluffy rug from my wooden floor and now only sweep the floor . . . .sigh . . . Cyd sulks if it gets very windy outside . . .Cyd sulks when I first put on the light in his tank each day . . .sigh . . .and sulks if I move to quickly and scare him . . . berludy hell – no-one warned me Piranha were so flippin sensitive.

Cyd now seems recovered from the ulcer and appears actually happy with his life – even living on his own. Piranhas as they get older apparently become more solitary. Cyd is about a year old now.

And the good bits . . . . .Oh yes there really are good bits . . .Cyd rewards me every day . . . he actually responds to me (which was originally why I wanted Parrot Fish – they seem to form a bond with their owner). . . I 'stroke' him through the glass and he follows my fingers . . . and when I am in the room he watches me . . .and yes, as has been suggested, he may well be trying to lull me into a false sense of security before dining on my digits. But I am able to put my hands into his tank to do the necessary maintenance and although he swims around he has never ever tried to attack me – I have stopped short at trying to stroke him in the tank though.

I love Cyd . . .ridiculous loving a fish I know, but I do. He lives in my office and every day is my inspiration . . . so if I ever get published . . . um . . .
can you dedicate a book to a fish . . .

Cyd is now officially called Cyd Fishus . . . Wildchild added the Fishus in one of her lightbulb moments. I of course claim all credit for the inspired name – because after all I am Wildchild's mother!!!!!!!!!

I owe a big thank you to the staff at Dobbie's Aquarium Stirling . . .they have been so very patient with me and endlessly listened to and answered all my questions, both in person and by phone . . .They looked after Cyd for a whole year – and that goes against business . . .he took up tank room after all for fish that could be sold – but they cared for him and gave him the best life they could. They all ask after Cyd every time I pop in to Dobbie's. They have apparently nicknamed me Piranha . . . I in turn am really gratefull for all their patience and understanding.

So to Dobbie's I bow and thank you for the opportunity of getting to know and love Cyd . .

And to Cyd . . .I salute you and thank you for coming into my life . . .

A letter to my 13 year old self.

2008-01-06T16:41:00.001+01:00

Gosh what seems like an age ago I was tagged to write a letter to my 13 year old self. So here goes.

Hi Gillian . . .I wish more than anything that I could stop you worrying so much. You are good enough you know. Yes you are quiet and others may even think you a bit odd, but that will become a plus later on . . .people will like you because you are different.

Don't worry about homework and school so much – you are bright, but events in your life will happen and you will fail at school . . but not at life.

Don't worry about the fact that you were called a Granny at your first school dance, because of the way you dressed – you will develop your own style of clothes and you will be comfortable with what you wear.

Um – this obsession with body image is going to get a great deal worse before it gets better. You will become very ill with anorexia . . .you will refuse hospitalisation and you will find a way through. It will always be there to haunt you, but you will find a way of living with it and mostly keeping it under control, rather than letting it control you.

You will one-day become more comfortable with and even grow to like you – but it will take many years of self development. You will learn that being brutally honest with yourself will teach you a great deal about who you are and what makes other people tick and will help you to survive. Most importantly you will learn that for other people to like you, you must first learn to love your self first . . .internal locus of evaluation. To live for external praise is to live on a shore washed by ever-shifting tides and offers no security.

You love of reading and writing will always be with you and you will succeed as a writer in some small measure . . .and then you will try again . . .at this point I don't know what happens. You will also find a creative outlet on photography. You will later in life indulge again in your passion for the stage – this will have mixed blessings.

You will find love and you will be hurt and you will hurt. You will conquer your fear of living alone and become much stronger because if it. You will also gain independence and understanding.

You will always love Xmas and you will never grow out of your love of snow.

But life for you is about to get a great deal worse . . .you Mother will go into hospital when you are 14 – it will be discovered she has cancer. She will die on January 20th 1970 when you are 15. You will cope - that is the only comfort I can offer. Sadly you won't be able to grieve until many years later and then it is very painful – I wish I could tell you to let go and grieve at the time of your Mother's death – but I can't and you do get through and learn an important lesson. You will also lose your maternal Gran and Grandad in 1970 and an Aunt and Uncle.

Your Father won't be able to cope with your Mum dying and six months later he will re-marry. You and your step mother will not get on – she will drive you out and you will leave home at 16. You will feel totally abandoned by all your relatives and that is the way it will be . . . it will take quite a lot of therapy to learn to cope with that abandonment . . .but you do get there. You will go from a child wrapped in cotton wool to a child thrown out . . .to an adult with understanding, but there will be bitterness along the way.

You will have a roller coaster of a life for many many years. . .but you will learn a great deal . . .I think in many ways you will benefit from all that happens to you – particularly because you do learn.

You will find your soul mate and you will have children and you will love them all deeply . . . but the roller coaster will still roll on for many more years.

You will have ups and downs with your health – the migraines will be with you until you are 50. You will have autoimmune diseases – there will be times when you despair . . .but you will get throughand you will learn the joy of pain free days.

There is happiness and contentment and amazing opportunities to learn amongst the ups and downs of the years to come – treasure each and every moment – they are ALL extraordinarily valuable . . . they will make you what I am.

I am proud of you and I will never abandon you and . . . you know what . . . I am proud of me too . . . big hug . . .

Wot I did at the Hospital

2007-12-04T21:23:00.000+01:00

Here is a picture of my Hedgehog - hope I haven't upset him . . the food I put down has not been touched since this picture!

Phew - it is good to be home . . . had my Endoscopy this afternoon - was meant to be this morning, but there were all sorts of holdups - so it was two and a half hours after I was booked in that I finally got to have the procedure. But whose complaining I had two and a half hours to sit and read . . .shame I was so berludy hungry and not to mention the lurking monster that fugging WANTED coffee and gave me a thumping head just in case I forgot. AND even after it was all over still no berludy coffee, or anything to eat for at least another hour . . .WHY . . . .cos I'd had a throat spray to numb everything . . .BERGER . . .So what did they do . . . .They put me in a waiting room with a man eating biscuits and drinking coffee . . . YES . . yes . . the man is still alive, although I did offer to mug him . . he didn't look impressed. Couldn't run away though he was in a wheel chair . . .no . . no I didn't put him in the wheel chair . . .sigh . . just have bad do you think I am without my coffee . . .Snarl.

So what was it like, the endoscopy that is . . Well actually not too bad in a, oh look there's a lovely brick wall I think I'll bang my head on it, sort of way. The staff were excellent . . . Well they were at the start, but by the time I went in for my tube down the throat it was lunchtime and the nurse pushing my bed to the theatre was actually scratching around to find people to go in with me. I really do believe it was because it was lunchtime and not because I had talked them all into submission, no I really really believe that. Certainly the nurse originally assigned to me was no-where to be seen. I still have TWO cannula bruises to prove she did exist.

Meanwhile back in the endoscopy theatre . . Quick chat with the consultant about symptoms, medication I am on blah blah . . then they laid me on my side and administered the sedative through the cannula . . . .big happy sigh . . . All going fuzzy . . . I remember the gum shield thingy to stop me biting through the scope - burger - chomping through that thing due to lack of caffeine would have been very satisfying . . .ah well. And the rest was a not unpleasant blur punctuated by the odd gag (apparently me) and a voice telling me to breathe through my nose . . .Why? . . I like gagging and then berlimey was that me burping (they fill your stomach with air to stretch it out, so that they can see with the camera) . . .apparently yes that was me burping (mmmm very proud) and then it was all over.

So I was wheeled back out and onto the ward . . .and eventually after vital signs tested . . .all good I am pleased to report . . . I was put into the waiting room where a mugging (see above) was not committed.

And the results . . . I have reddening of the stomach - but they don't know why . . . they took a biopsy . . .REALLY you did . . .I didn't feel a thing! Oh and I have a Hiatus Hernia . . . . mmmmmmm . . . but none of it is serious . . .tell that to the pain . . . so in two weeks time I have to go and see my Doctor who will then tell me what pills the consultant wants me to take . . . Ok . . . and let me know the results of the biopsy - which was mainly to see if I have Helibactor Pylori . . ok . . . .(yeah yeah I could google it and get the spelling right . . .but why would I want to?)!

Oh and the best bit I was sent home to rest and not do anything as the sedative might make me feel a bit woozy and forget things . . .puts up feet . . .happy sigh . . .reaches for the chocolates - and I can guarantee I won't remember who ate them!

As for there being no question marks in most, if not all of this blog - that is because I ran out of them and there is a national shortage!!!

Berlimey one thing I forgot to mention yesterday when I wrote this was that the person doing the endoscopy was a nurse who was being assessed . . the consultant was there with her. Today my throat is really sore - it hurts to talk and swallow and my chest feels as though Monday night's party was held on it . . . . .sigh . . . I had this procedure done a few years ago and last time don't remember any adverse effects at all . . . HS enjoying the peace . . . Harummmppphhhhh . . . I'm saving it ALL up . .

Mouth Biopsy Results

2007-11-13T14:53:00.000+01:00

Good grief with everything that has been going on here would you believe something happened two weeks ago which was significant and I completely forgot to tell you all. Something I promised to share with you – cos you asked . .so just remember you asked . . .ok . . .sigh . . .

Remember my horrible mouth biopsy . . .well I went to see the oral Consultant and got the results . . .I DON'T have Sjögrens . . . that is the good news. The not so good news is that I still have no idea what is causing all the aching throughout my joints, plus my dry eyes and dry nose. The former I have had since the late 70's, the latter I am not sure how long I have had it - kind of crept up on me. Everything did appear to get better recently when I upped my Thyroxine (I have the Autoimmune Hashimoto's disease.) But in the last few days the aching is back again. So I have upped my thyroxine again - don't worry I know when I am taking too much. My Doctor trusts me to play around with my dosage - which I was told back in 1994 would need to be increased over the years as my thyroid died.

Would you believe I don't have an appointment yet to go back and see the Rheumatologist (spelling) and now I am still no further forward than I was last November . . .I think perhaps the next stage is to go and see an oncologist - see if the problem is linked to my Thyroid . . . not very hopeful though.

The aching can be very debilitating, but I do find it helps if I make myself go out for a brisk hours walk every morning after I have taken my Thyroxine (luckily my dogs encourage this - the walking that is - they aren't interested in the pills). I know when the aching is going to flare up because I start to feel tearful. My dry eyes disease also flares up and so do my stomach problems ie ulcer symptoms and irritable bowel symptoms.

Gawd I sound such a wreck . . .at least I don't get the migraines anymore and that is a HUGE relief.

I have so many symptoms that all seem to come together personally I would have thought that the Consultant's would have had some clue by now. Then again I think everything I have is similar to Sjogrens's and Hep C - neither of which I have, but which have been a red herring for the last year.

Going to have an Endoscopy on the 4th December to see what is going on in my stomach. Was dreading it - but the pain has been getting so bad now that would you believe I am looking forward to my endoscopy - note to self . . .get a life . . . I also have a breath test on the 19th November for the Helicobacter pylori bacteria - which means I can't take any of the acid reducing pills etc for a month.

Now apart from that I am feeling great . . . no not being flip - once I get myself moving in the morning and get my attitude adjusted each day I do feel ok . . . so onwards and upwards to ever better things.

Life gets in the way sometimes

2007-10-28T21:56:00.000+01:00

Brief Apology

I just wanted to say a quick Hi and to apologise for not having had the chance to read anyone's Blogs. Obviously missed them all the week we were away. Then spent a week catching up on work and on the site itself, so no chance to read Blogs. Then of course a week ago events rather overtook us - and everything, but everything went out of the window. So next week I will have to spend time catching up on work . . .sigh . . and events are still ongoing.

Please bear with me - I will be reading Blogs again and will be writing my own.

I haven't even had a chance to Blog about my meeting with Crystal . . . who arrived in the middle of our turned upside down lives.

Crystal Jigsaw . . . if you haven't already met her is absolutely lovely. Utterly charming, warm, vivacious, caring and someone you can be proud to call a friend. Her husband although slightly quieter (mind you no chance to get a word in I suspect) was equally charming. Both have a wicked sense of humour . . thank goodness . . .I didn't shock them with my TWO fart machines . . . good grief and people actually think I am wise . .Shocked

The meal we had was carefully chosen not to cause the hazards endured during eating my club sandwich when I met Blossom. In the main we were successful, although the jaw breaking stuffing was a little crunchy. Plus the smoke alarm announcing lunch was a ready a tad deafening - otherwise it all went well.

It also turned out that the people who live next door to Wizzard are related to CJ's other half . . .now how spooky is that.

The only criticism I have our gorgeous Crystal (and she is gorgeous . . .pulls face) is that she is taller than me Ptooooeeeyyy - then again most people are . . . ankle biter me.

Jewels of Scotland

2007-10-07T13:26:00.000+02:00

Top Picture Ben Lawers - the view from my garden - how lucky am I.
Second picture - frost in our sheep field . . .

Frosty, misty start this morning . . . .and now we have clear blue skys and warm sun.

Scotland gets a very bad press when it comes to the weather - apparently it rains here all the time

There is a saying - if you can see Ben Lawers then it is GOING to rain, but if you can't see Ben lawers then it IS raining.

We do get some extremes of weather up here - but good as well as spectacular.

HS is a WINNER . . . . .

2007-10-04T18:05:00.000+02:00

Last night went with HS to Loxleys the printers - in Glasgow. They were hosting a roadshow of the PPQB (Professional Photographers Qualification Board) on behalf of the BIPP (British Institute of Professional Photographers of which HS is a member and has also recently become the Chairman of the Scottish Division) and also on behalf the MPA (Master of Professional Photographers) . . . Gawd are you all still with me . . . .

ANYWAY . . . the purpose of the get together was a presentation and workshop plus one to one advice from the judges, based on each photographer's collection of images on how to choose the right images to go from Licentiateship to the next level which is Associate ship within the BIPP and MPA. HS has the first level . . .he failed his Associateship Board in April of this year . . .he had good images at this board, but did not show enough uniform style . . .

Berludy good evening - met loads of photographers, good presentation - got to see plenty of Associate work - I came away inspired and I'm not even a member . . .yet! And food there was food . . . not the exploding club sandwich kind either . . . there were sandwiches sans cocktails sticks, but I avoided those . . although I managed to get grease all over my fingers from various nibbles . . .and drank too much coffee and nearly stabbed nine people with an over expressive wooden skewer - from which I'd proudly managed to eat chicken Satay without decorating the walls. And I only spilled my coffee a little bit and the MD of Loxleys forgave me.

AND the presenter, at the end, smiled and warmly shook my hand and forgave me for heckling him . . wasn't that nice . . .

BUT . . . AND THIS IS THE IMPORTANT BIT . . .

There was a prize of a camera for the best picture that the judges saw whilst looking at the potential candidates photographs for the Associate Board next April. AND YES . . HS WON . . . .I cried . . .much to everyone's delight and my acute embarrassment! What was worse I couldn't stop . . . .

I AM SO PROUD OF HS . . . he deserved the prize. One judge said 'excellent image - all I can say is that I wish I had taken it' . . WOW. So HS now has his work cut out as he has to come up with 19 more pictures that also have the WOW factor to pass his Associate Board in April 2008. He already has several other pictures in the running (approved by the judges last night) and planned shoots for producing more in the same style.

Below is the picture that won. Please note I meet all the models and scare the living daylights out of each one of them before letting HS and said model go out to do the shoot . . .snigger . . .

Diaries are for smoking . . .

2007-09-23T15:37:00.001+02:00

SMOKING DIARIES for the past two weeks.

Ptooooooey . . . before we even start Milla and Fennie – don't you dare point those loaded comments at me . . . .

So have I been bad – of course I berludy well have . . .have I been good – yes that too.

The wrong end of the stick
it is there for the grabbing
And the bush to be beaten
And excuses for a stabbing

I can make up dozens of excuses for smoking. The slightest thing can cause me stress, if I choose, and off I go puffing again, with only a trace of guilt.

See fools rushing in
where not an Angel steps
is there looking in the leaping
But spontaneity in there yet

If I tell myself I can't smoke then I rebel against myself and indeed I rebel against anyone that tries to reinforce that . . .whether they are right, or wrong . .then again who is to judge.

Van Goghs lends an ear for music
Words in pictures a thousand times
Do you know who to follow now
Or is this for the blind

If I tell myself I can smoke and then the attraction goes up in smoke . . .but not completely. . . .sigh . . .

If your name be Thomas
Would you doubt me yet
Are my spots for counting
A leopard in the bet

So where does that leave me . . here of course.

Do I want to give up smoking . . yes . . eventually. So what am I doing about it. I am doing it my way. I have gone from 35 a week to a mere 5 . . now I think that is a massive improvement and the more I don't smoke the better I feel and the more aware I am of the instant effects when I do smoke and the less I want to smoke . . but I am not quite, not QUITE ready to stop yet . . .

There are many squares to see
But one I am not at
The smoke from this chimney
Still has lives of a cat

There was someone on this site . . .so sorry i can't remember who – who said that to give up they cut down to just Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights and then eventually stopped. I can see that working for me.

So Granny look to your eggs
And to horses bearing gifts
Remove the cock that crows
And bulls here to Poo . . .(no I know it doesn't rhyme but I couldn't put what did.)

So I am not giving up on giving up . . I am doing it my way. Life is pretty good at the moment so the goal now is to only smoke on Saturday night before dinner – whilst watching X-Factor and enjoying a bottle of wine.

Stable door and bolted
but the horse never left
Brass tacks are everywhere
on the right side of bed.

So progress is is then . . .and I am doing it my way.

ww

Meeting Blossom Cottage

2007-09-14T17:17:00.000+02:00

Yesterday Happy Snaper and I went to Edinburgh via Glasgow (HS had a quick Photo Shoot in Glasgow the morning . . .sigh . . ) and why did we go to Edinburgh . . . TO MEET BLOSSOMCOTTAGE that is why.

I couldn't believe how nervous I was. . . . yup that gibbering, twitching person in the car was me. It seemed to take forever to get from Glasgow to Edinburgh - not helped by HS and I having no idea where we were going once we reached Edinburgh – although we had got our Google map with us . . . Oh and the butterflies in my stomach were amazing . . Panic . . .lost . . .not going to get there in time . . It was fast approaching two O'clock . . . . . . berludy hell . . and then out of no-where there was a sign pointing to the hotel . . . berlimey . . . .and a multi story car park as well – double berlimey . . . and . . wow that was easy.

We parked the car in the multi-storey car park – bit cramped, but ok – parking is premium in Edinburgh and headed into the hotel to find our Blossom.

And then there she was, smiling from ear to ear rising up from the table in the hotel bar to meet us. Gibber and gibber gibber and giggle and . . . .twitch and hug and . . .sigh . . .

First impressions - wow what an attractive lady - cracking figure . . . wonderful smile . . . beautiful hair . . .sorry Blossom - I know this may embarrass you - but you really are gorgeous . . .I don't think any photo I have seen of you to date does you proper justice . . . I may never talk to you again . .quick sulk . . Oh but no uniform . . .I had mine on . . .smug . . . but Blossom did have a purple hair band in. HS also forgot his uniform . . SIGH . . .

So yes we all had a big hug and then we sat down and talked and talked and talked and then talked and talked some more and then more and more and more . . . . and went to the loo and then talked even more . . .after we came back from the loo that is – we went to the loo on our own too . . . all grown up now.

We had lunch. Then we had afternoon tea - twice and the time just romped by lickety split, or is that spit . .

Now is it me or have you ever noticed how eating gets in the way when there is so much to talk about and how food takes on a life of its own when you are meeting someone for the first time. My club sandwich wandered all over my plate, developed crunchy noisy bits and messy mayonnaisey bits and bits that seem to grow on the fork and flop everywhere and were to big to go into my mouth Other bits sort of zipped off the fork . . . good grief whilst yet more bits refused to go on the fork at all. . My sandwich seemed er . . .very stuck together at the start . . . . it took a while to work out it was held together with a skewer . . .but releasing the skewer meant the sandwich grew alarmingly in size and eshewed any pretence at staying on my plate . . . now should I eat with a knife and fork, or pick up each HUGE unruly quarter . . . bits dropping everywhere . . . crumbs, splodges of mayonnaise . . . good grief . . . should lunch really be this difficult . . . superstitious glances at Blossom and HS showed that they were coping fine and that YES it really was just me. Next time I am having chips . . just chips.

So what can I tell you about Blossom. Apart from the fact that she is a very striking lady she has a wonderful calm aura about her . . and she eats very tidily. Ah yes but don't be fooled by her air of calm for there is a seriously wicked twinkle in her eye and many a story to tell. We spent a lot of the time laughing.

I didn't feel awkward with Blossom. Nor did I feel the need to impress her – although of course I did want her to like me. I felt too that she was a calm confident person and was not out to impress me either – she didn't need to. The talk was an easy three way flow.

Blossom is very articulate and her stories riveting and hilarious. We talked about Marilyn – which many of you will remember from her blogs . . .We talked about out lives, photography, the site, you lot (in the best possible way of course) . . . more about our lives . . briefly where the site was going – which we feel is a 'wait and see thing' and then more about our lives. . . . I can't even begin to remember all the things we talked about actually . . . Right now I think I am still digesting my club sandwich . . . which I forgot to do yesterday because I was so busy talking and listening.

And then it was time to go – four hours had gone by and sadly we all had to be 'somewhere else' . . We all hugged and said goodbye . . .sniff . . sniff . . no . . no something in my eye . . .

Both HS and I had a brilliant day, a seriously brilliant day.

Blossom meeting you was very special. It always worried me that if we all started meeting each other from the Purplecoo site somehow we wouldn't live up to each others expectations . . . well to date that has clearly NOT been the case and I can add my own positive experience to the Purplecoo 'meets'.

So If any of you get the chance to meet Blossom – then go for it . . . she really is a lovely lovely person and if you are nervous like I was she will put you at your ease.

So thank you for a special day Blossom and I hope that we can meet up again soon.

My Homework from Blossom

2007-09-06T10:44:00.001+02:00

Blossom's Homework

Paper carrier bags – OOOOooo love the feel of them and the crinkly, crackly sound they make and the smell of brown paper . . keep all my paper carriers and sneak of and rustle them now and again.

I don't ride, or haven't since I was in my late twenties . .but the sound of creaking saddle leather and the jingle of harness is a wonderful congruent - all is well - sound and the smell of horses is the same ,but in smell language.

I collect sea glass. If I am not crinkling carrier bags then I am moving my sea glass around in their glass bowl just to hear the sound as they touch together and move over each other and the smooth, dusty opaqueness beneath my fingers.

Paper . . . different types of writing paper, printing paper – both for writing and for photographic use. HS has an amazing paper that is linen and floppy . . . sigh . . wonderful just to touch it. All the different types of paper in the shops – hand made paper . . . sigh . . paper and boards in art shops.

The smells of some books when you open them and also the smell of some glossy illustrations. I have a very old book that I won for best handwriting when I was at junior school the smell and feel of that is so special.

I have many pens and the feel of my pens on the different paper is amazing.

Another and deeper love is propelling pencils and Ihave many different shapes and different sized leads. I also have a pad of yellow lined paper – to sit and write on that with my special pencil of the moment is sheer bliss. Faber-Castell are my current favourite – I have a very cheap self propelling pencil which I adore and also a thick leaded art pencil.

Walking in the snow. There are many different types of snow. I love crunching through all of them – although don't like wet snow so much and hate it when I leave slushy imprints as I walk I love the smell of the air when snow is on its way.

Years ago I have a Cockatoo the smell and feel of her feathers was like talc. I also had a Blue and Gold Mackaw. The smell and feel of his feather was also special but so very different from the Cockatoo. Hers was lucious and sweet, his were much more spicy.

Keyboards. Every keyboard is different. I am lucky that my laptop keyboard has 'the' touch. I can't resist nipping round all the different keyboards in PC world . . on a good day when I am allowed out :-)

Before I start writing with pens, pencils, or keyboards I have to cut or trim my finger nails – I feel so creative if they are short and so out of sorts if they are not.

Croissants and coffee on a Sunday morning – especially if I have a 'good' marmalade in. Currently have a honey and orange marmalade . . . wasn't sure at first . . . but it is growing on me . . . so I am off to have shower . . .

The picture is of my collection of sea glass, plus a few shells and stones I like.

Smoking Diaries

2007-09-05T16:56:00.001+02:00

This diary is for the week starting Sunday 25th August.

Perhaps if I don't put up a picture and write very very small and sit really really still . . . no -one will notice me . . yep that will work. . . . sigh . .

Mmmmm last Sunday was ok and I was actually out Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and then again during the day Thursday and then out Thursday night. I have never smoked when I am out so the temptation has always been minimal.

As all of you on Purplecoo will know Wednesday evening was a tough evening on the site and tested us to the limit. Despite an emotional worrying evening I didn't smoke . . .um . . .cos there was no tobacco in the house.

I had another test on Thursday night . . . I went to the casting meeting of our next Panto and came out feeling really depressed. Health wise I have not been too good since last June with aching all over, dry eyes, dry nose and sometimes dry mouth - possibly Sjogren's, but not confirmed and the blood test are not coming back conclusive. I struggled through last year and did the Panto and the tour. I get bouts of remission with my aching, but they don't last long and I seem to be getting them less and less now. I felt depressed as I left the panto because I was aching all over and my energy was really low . . . .Plus we'd had our trials and tribulations within the drama club (then again what drama club doesn't) which have made their mark and a number of adults have left the club – although the juniors seem to have increased in number. Then add to all this the fact that normally we do have a few months rest from productions, but this year our last show was at the start of August . . and I personally felt I was just too tired and jaded to do the Panto. So as I drove home I was thinking to myself . . . I don't actually know if I can do this, want to do this. I love drama and I mean REALLY love drama. We live in a rather remote place and it has always been good to go out two evenings a week and meet friends and do something I feel so in tune with but . . . . . .So yes I came home and I smoked – several rolls ups. . . yes I know . . .really bad . . really weak . . really helped!

Friday I spent the day wondering what on earth to do. Then came a wonderful opportunity to re-write my children's novel . . .long story and worthy of a blog of its own – I will tell you more when I am a bit further down the road. . WOW . . . Talked it over with HS And yes . . .sigh, big decision to be made . . smoked a few more fags . . .and then decided I was NOT going to do the Panto this year – gut wrenching decision – but the right one and I am going to put all my efforts into working on my book. The only hiccup might be if I get the last minute place at Strathclyde Uni to do the Diploma in Person Centred Counselling – however term starts on the 17th September so that is looking more and more unlikely.

Then it was with tears in my eyes that I watched us all pull together on Saturday evening and show that we could get through the 'tough' times and do what we do best which is support each other. I was soooo proud of all of us.

Big big changes a foot then . . .I will still be working letting Cesspit Cottages and helping HS run his photography business, but I have finally allowed myself to take another peak at my creativity, something which I haven't done properly for years. It is fair to say that meeting you lot on CL and then continuing our journey on Purplecoo has gone along way to re-awakening my creative spirit and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for that.

Um . .anyway . . . I did then allow myself to smoke on Saturday and Sunday evening only a few – but smoking none the less.. Very very bad. However Monday is another week.

It is now Wednesday (5th September ) my nicotine patch is firmly back on and I haven't had a roll up since Sunday night.

So frankly rather a tumultuous and emotional week last week and no matter how many excuses I make I don't feel comfortable about my lapse. This time I AM beating myself up about it, because I feel it was a major lapse. However some big decision have been made and good ones and I think this will go a long way to helping me beat the nicotine . . . I mean if I ever 'make it' as a writer I don't want the picture on my book cover to look like Blossom's Fag Hag now do I?

Oh and one huge positive which kind of got swallowed up in last weeks events was the fact that HS and I bought the RAV 4 which I put up on Purplecoo yesterday. It is a light, zippy, wonderful car which I am, despite all the aching able to drive comfortably – so I now also have my independence back . . . .and as it is 4WD . . we will be able to get down our track when we get snowed in . . . um not sure the latter is a good thing – but at least it gives us the choice . . .

And here is my wonderful car – for those of you that didn't see it and an opportunity to take your mind off the fact that I gave in and smoked . . .

The Smoking diaries

2007-08-26T14:57:00.001+02:00

This diary is for the week starting Sunday 19th August.

I was actually really pleased with myself that I had gone past Saturday night (18th August) and not smoked - Saturday night was my favourite smoking night . . . especially when X-Factor was/is on. HS and I would cook a special meal, open a bottle of wine and then smoked a couple of roll ups during the breaks in X-Factor . . . and no, in case anyone was wondering, they were NOT wacky Backy roll ups! It was our evening - our time. The evening is still our evening and still special, but minus the roll ups and yes I want to give up, but yes I enjoyed smoking.

The week gone by has been a trying week. It feels as though everywhere I turn there is negativity. Getting to the point where I am not sure if that is how it really is, or if it is me who is negative and seeing every situation in a negative light. Then again . . . the quiet peaceful life we have fought to get at Wester Lix is currently undergoing external turmoil which is very unsettling and has even got us thinking that if things don't resolve in a way that is acceptable to us then we may have to move.

I am struggling with whether or not I want to do Drama this year - the club has been through a great deal of emotional upheaval last year into this year and I am not sure if I want to go through it all again and have to watch people I really care about being hurt and getting upset.

I am also waiting to hear if I have got a last minute cancellation place on the person Centred Counselling Course at Strathclyde University. I definitely have a place next year . . . if I don't have the place then I will write the children's book I have planned out plus start on the re-write of one I have already written . . . so again not quite sure what I will be doing until 17th September . . . unsettling, but not negative.

Friday HS was exhibiting his pictures in the open evening of a the new gallery opening up in our village. Very exciting. HS and I went down the gallery just after lunch to hang some of the pictures and there, also exhibiting was the only person in the entire universe that I have ever fallen out with and refuse to speak too . . . fugger and buck . . .the bitch used to be my best friend. . . . And yes of course she was there for the opening evening and between you and me I was hoping that she would give me cause to deck her . . . I am not a violent person at all . . . but with this person I would happily make an exception. I did actually once go down to the village bent on punching her lights out . . . but I couldn't find her. Apart from that and the fact that I wanted to rip the hair from her head everytime I heard her voice the evening went well. HS had a lot of interest shown in his Lightbulb block and many compliments on his photography generally.

Ah then we drove home. Quiet uneventful drive . . . noticed there was a car behind us all the way. I didn't do more than 50 all the way . . .some six sense. I had only had onemouthful of wine all evening. All the lights on the car were working . . . you can see where this is going can't you?

We pulled into our track - which is half a mile from our house. The car that had followed us all the way from the village turned up the track after us and suddenly sprouted red and blue lights and whooped at us. HS had already clocked this particular species of car as we left the village . . . parked at the entrance to a side road next to the police car that is driven by Stoney Face . . . yes you guessed it . . . our new git on the block . . . so bearing that in mind . . .

After the night I had just had and having not had the pleasure of hitting the Bitch . . . I was ready for a fight . . . I got out the car - marched up to the police car and went . . 'WHAT' . . only louder.

Vehichle check . . madame . . .

Oh really.

Name and address . . .

Yeah like you don't know it already.

Is that your vehicle . .

. . sigh . .

And why EXACTLY are you stopping me?

We are spot checking vehicles in case there is a crime later and then we can contact you to see if you saw anything.

???????? Er I live at the end of this half mile track . .

And in case this car is involved in anything later . . . .

?????????? . . .I live at the end of this half mile track . . .what can possibly happen.

And just checking your car hasn't been stolen . . .

Sigh - you already know who I am . . .

Step up HS - asking for their details . . .

the two policmen suddenly had to be elsewhere.

BERLUDY HELL . . . what you are not even going to breathalyse me - you mean I don't get the pleasure of you trying to book me and then finding out you are wrong . . . berludy berludy hell. . . .fugger and buck – go on check my tyres go on . . . .sud it . . .

So we drove home very carefully I mean it IS half a mile down a country earth track and from what the police were saying ANYTHING could happen . . .

Got home walked in opened a bottle of red wine and smoked three fags straight off . . . . .

I didn't smoke all day yesterday and haven't smoked today . . . I've am still a non-smoker, but just one that is struggling a lot at the moment.

VERY IMPORTANT PS

Forgot to say that we did make a formal complaint against Stoney Face. We officially heard back in a letter that he had of course behaved in the correct manner. However from 'other' sources we have heard a very different story . . . .

Smoking Diaries

2007-08-19T16:12:00.000+02:00

This will be brief . . . I haven't smoked at all . . .not one . . .not even last night . . . .

The Smoking Diaries

2007-08-12T12:59:00.000+02:00

I have been deciding for a while now that I want to give up smoking - but know that I can't just stop - doesn't work for me like that. For me the method is this.

1) Decide I am going to give up.
2) Pick a date
3) Binge smoke up to that date
4) Stop

I smoked from the age of 15 up to 31. I stoped in 1986 because HS and I wanted to start a family. I used the stopping method above and it worked for me right up until about three years ago. Then life's stresses closed in and I turned to smoking again. I have stopped once since then for several months - stress got the better of me . . I started again . . . and now I am stopping. . . . again . . . sigh . . .

I chose my stopping date as Monday August 6th - Wildchild's 20th Birthday. I went to my Doctor and got a three week supply of meduim strength patches. I also bought enough rolling tobacco and papers to allow me to binge smoke right up to the 6th August 2012 . . . well you wouldn't have wanted me to run out now would you?

Monday 6th August. This was not a difficult day because I was away from home. Then again Wildchild and the parking ticket was a challenge. . . .

Tuesday 7th August. The patches were clearly working and again this was not a difficult day. Smug!

Wednesday 8th August. First Hurdle. Went out for lunch with a friend who smoked - but as she smokes ready rolled I was not too bothered. However I got home at about 5.00pm to discover no HS . . . I was on my own and I wanted a fag. I put up a help post on the site and was compltely bowled over by the support I received . . . the evening also turned into a chat and help session with Bodran asking for help too and also getting a huge response and then lots of chat over several posts.

Thursday 9th August. Having got over last night's hurdle this was another easy day. Smuggerty smug!

Friday 10th August. Uh oh - HS away on a photo shoot in Inverness from 2.00pm onwards and not coming back untill 11.00 pm ish. I had hoped to go with him, but the aching from the Sjogrens flare up was too bad and I would not have been able to walk around. Feeling a bit guilty about hogging the common room I put up a Fag Watch post . . . berludy hell - I got loads of support . . . Later I chatted to Wizzard on MSN and then read Harry Potter . . . I got through.

Saturday 11th August. Busy day. Saturday evening was always going to be difficult. HS and I used to sit with a bowl of 'special' crips - Walkers sensations . . .and have a glass or three of wine and a few roll ups and chat. One of me regualr mood busting moments.

CONFESSION . . . I had a roll up last night . . . just one . . . it was kind of ok, but no more. I had to go and brush my teeth afterwards because of the taste in my mouth and then have a shower because the smell of fags was following me around. My chest also felt instantly tight.

I am not sorry at all that I had one . . . so no beating myself up there. I may even have one next Saturday . . . if this is what I need to do to eventually give up completely then this is what I will do. My biggest concern was that I was letting everyone who had supported down. I do hope that none of you feel that I have. I don't want to lose your support . . . I WILL kick the habit . . . but may need to lapse now and again withouth judgement.

So thank you to everyone . . . it will be a whole week tomorrow and right now I have no craving at all . . . sticks 93 patches on . .

Westerwitch the Criminal . . . . does it AGAIN . . . .

2007-08-09T14:12:00.000+02:00

Monday 6th August and Wiidchild's 20th Birthday . . . no longer a teenager . . . Now a responsible adult . . . .

And the day I chose to give up smoking. . . . .Had plenty of practice – now for the real thing.

We arrived at Wildchild's Flat around lunchtime. Next to her block is a walled in car park – actually really interesting old park surrounded by high old walls and buildings.

First thing we noticed was that the chain blocking the entrance to the car park was gone and instead there were notices everywhere . . . parking for permit holders ONLY . . . £85 fine for non permit holders. Mmmmm are you feeling edgy yet – are the warning bells starting . . . £85 berludy hell.

AH hah oh no not this time –THIS TIME Westerwitch IS going to be all legal AND proper like. Oh yes you don't get me twice . . . so complete with properly displayed permit HS and I parked the car and went up to see Wildchild. On the way up I clocked the traffic wardens car! He was illegally displaying a learner thingy – no learner in the car . . .not important.

Wildchild opened her presents– we bought her a camera – see picture above. Then off to lunch a short drive away – um – Kentucky Fried Chicken – Wildchild's choice. Next we saw Shrek 3 – in the cinema - not in Kentucky Fried Chicken.

We enjoyed the film but not as good, we felt, as the first two. But we ate popcorn and stuffed chocolate and had a brilliant time.

Then back to flat and the car park and being all legal . . . country girl in the city and not breaking any laws – proud Westerwitch . . . if a little tetchy . . . no fags you see, but coping well!

We pottered around the flat – played with Wildchild's Rats – what amazing pets they are. We chatted, drank tea . . . normal stuff.

Wildchild went to put the rubbish out . . . came back and said . . ' Mum you're not going to like this, but you have got a parking ticket!'

“Oh hahahahaha, yeah right you have tried that one before . . .hahaha – you don't get me twice . . hahahaha. Yeah not falling for that!'

No Mum. Really you have!'

Not a trace of a smile on Wildchild's face.

'Feryucky Hell and Berger and . . . . . bar stewards and . . . . what the . . . and '. . .rushed down the stairs . . . . out to the car and berludy hell there is was a berludy ludy parking ticket . . . . on MY car . . . .

Fine for not displaying permit ,or whatever properly . . . . what WHAT – it was there THERE . . . aaarrrrrggggggg!!!!! Apparently a couple of weeks back the parking bar steward warden person had 'done' a friend of Wildchild's.

HAH HAH . . .WELL NOT ME . . . NOT THIS TIME . . . this time I was well and truly legal . . . wasn't I? Hah bitten off more than they can chew . . .no fags and HAH HAH – is that the berludy warden's car in the corner . . is it, IS IT . . . . ?

I rushed round the car park checking our permit against the others on various cars . . . yup all legal. Wildchild and HS kept saying just leave it – we can fight it later . . . and started to walk towards the flat.

HAH NOT ME. OH NO . . . Westerwitch has tobacco deprivation and has found someone to fight . . . . . breaks free from HS and Wildchild and advances with murderous purpose and quiet misleading smile on face towards the wardens' car . . . . Bar steward . . . . really gonna regret this . . .

To my complete surprise Wildchild and HS actually physically dragged me back . . . 'What! No . . WANNA FIGHT . . . . Noooooo . . leggo!'

'MUM look at the ticket . . . '

'Yup, looking at the ticket – my car – blah blah blah . . . hang on the date is a month earlier . . . and not for this car park . . . and . . . .anddddd . . . .berludy hell!'

HS and Wildchild in absolute fits – hurrying me into the flat . . . didn't want this bar steward warden to see fake parking ticket, cos it might get Wildchild's traffic warden friend into trouble . . . yes the bar steward that supplied her with the ticket A MONTH AGO!

Snap shots . . . walking into the room and Wildchild and HS going quiet. Pointed conversations about the warden. Lots of looking out of the window and comments on the warden . . . .and more . . . . I'D BEEN WELL AND TRULY SET UP AND HAD.

I had trained Wildchild too well. . . . although she did admit she'd had to keep turning away to hide her smiles . . . but the face she presented me was very well composed . . . so the gauntlet is down . . . . thinking cap on . . .

Lynne and Alfie

2007-08-05T17:47:00.000+02:00

Picture of my JRT - Lynne and Alfie adore him and he adores them.

Lynne and Alfie

Last week I received a call from my special friend Lynne . . .sadly it was to tell me that Alfie, Lynne's husband, is in hospital and is dying of cancer. He has weeks at best to live and at worst possibly only days. I would like to add that Alfie does not know that he only has a short time left - only that he is dying - so if anyone reading this discovers that they know him and Lynne - please please don't say anything.

But I don't think they would thank me for dwelling on this awful news so instead I would like to tell you about Lynne and Alfie and the fun we had together.

To set the scene – I have sent them a new improved fart machine with 15 farts on it - brilliant have got one myself now . . . . was going to send a card and flowers . . . but knowing Lynne and Alfie a fart machine is much more appropriate. I gather Alfie (now home from hospital) is creating havoc with it.

HS and I met Lynne and Alfie in the Village years ago – sadly they have now moved along way South and we rarely see them. We quickly became friends. In the old days HS was away all week working in London and I was left coping with three cottages to let and clean and over a period of time re-decorate. Enter Lynne and Alfie with mops, buckets, paint pads and great big grins. I can honestly say I don't know what I would have done without their energetic and practical help and enormous sense of fun. Actually thinking back it was amazing really that we ever got any work done at all – we seemed to spend most of our time doubled up with laugher. Alfie has a huge repertoire of jokes and a day decorating with him and Lynne always left me aching with laughing too much.

Alfie is a very good mimic and the number of times I have been scuttling around looking for a lost cat is untrue. He got me every berludy time and every time I really should have known better.

On one occasion (whilst Alfie was downstairs painting the dining room), son, daughter and Lynne and I tied several poles together and then leaning out of the upstairs bedroom window we kept tapping on the dining room window. We had poor Alfie rushing outside every couple of minutes to see who, or what it was. . . Eventually he caught us which then involved much running around with spray bottles of water and water pistols trying to soak each other. Alfie then ran into the downstairs toilet and locked himself in. AH HAH . . The kids and I went and got an old wardrobe door with a full length mirror in it and propped it up a few feet back from the toilet door – the idea being that Alfie would get a fright when he opened the door . . . . We than made lots of 'we are walking away' noises. Two minutes went by, no Alfie, 5 minutes, 7 and then BOOOOO. He had somehow climbed out of the really tiny toilet window and crept round and jumped out at us. We were all crying with laughter until we discovered that Alfie couldn't actually climb back through the toilet window and now neither could we get into the toilet , which was where all the paint was kept. . . . so we went and had a cup of tea . . . . Meanwhile son – not one to be beaten and not a tea drinker either had somehow managed to wriggle back in through the toilet window and unlocked the door – happily apart from a few scrapes he didn't hurt himself. Then again he didn't hurt himself when he jumped out of his bedroom window to see what it was like. Aaaaarrrrgggggg it is on the first floor!!!!!!!!! WHY????? Oh blood runs cold now even thinking about it. Still he found out what it was like and amazingly didn't hurt himself at all . . . and after the lecture he got hasn't done anything that stupid since . . . that I know of. Any way I digress . . .

One morning Lynne brought me my first ever egg from my chickens – special moment . . . I was amazed at how soft and fuzzy feeling the egg was – Lynne explained that was how it was with the first egg that a chicken ever lays. Then gently taking the egg from me . . . . she suddenly threw it at me yelling quick catch – I missed . . it was a rubber egg . . . . which I still have . . . .

Another time HS and I had to go and deliver something to Lynne and Alfie 's house – they were out, so we decided to leave it in their shed . . . . . golden opportunity . . . .we turned every item in their shed up side down . . . . . they still haven't forgiven us . . . . yeah right!

Another occasion saw us all painting the lounge. Lynne and Alfie schooshing away with their paint pads and me with my roller . . . I had gone to to pour more paint into the roller tray and was leaning forward when my mobile phone fell out of my scruffy very non-Boden shirt pocket and plopped neatly into the middle of the paint tray and with much gloopy satisfaction . . . . sank. I plunged my hand right into the paint tray and grabbed my paint sodden phone . . . . Lynne says she remembers me standing there covered from head to toe in paint splatters holding up this object with paint sliding off it – shaking with laughter and pleading – 'OMG please don't ring, please don't ring,. . . . . because we all knew that, as a compulsive mobile phone user, I would have had to have answered it if it had indeed rung. . . . . .

Lynne says it is this image that she brings to mind when it all gets to much and it is this image that is helping her through . . . . .Lynne I don't know what to say . . .

5 Mood Busters.

2007-07-29T15:24:00.000+02:00

Oh well I have put it off long enough . . . so here are my five mood busters

1) I love the snow and I mean really LOVE the snow. I feel so amazingly happy when it is snowing. I have never really been able to explain it - but it brings about a feeling of congruence.

2) Now please don't all throw things . . . .but if I am feeling down I get a real lift from cleaning my house . . . ducks . . and ducks . . and ducks . . and SPLAT. If my house is clean and tidy and organised it produces a wonderful feeling of calm within myself.

3) Messing about with my plants - indoor plants mostly although I have quite a few outddor pots. Every year I put off re-potting and the weather this year has helped my avoid potting no end. But once I get stuck into it I LOVE doing it and again there is that feeling of congruence.

4) Sitting and having a chat with HS over a coffee and chocolate whilst enjoying a few rolls ups, or in the evening having a chat with HS over a glass of wine with some 'posh' crips and a few roll ups. We have decided to stop smoking in the week though and just keep it to Friday and Saturday nights . . . . mutter . . . . Oh and cooking and eating Sunday lunch in the Winter with the family.

5) Sitting writing by the fire on cold winter's days . . .with loads of coffee and chocolate and roll ups - but there will be less of the roll ups.

There you are that is my five.

Westerwitch the Criminal . . . .

2007-07-02T17:31:00.000+02:00

Picture of my soothing fish - to calm you before you read my blog!!

And so Westerwitch had a very bad day on Friday. And yes I started a paragraph with And – which I am delighted to say breaks the rules and if you choose to read on you will see why I got so much pleasure of of it . . . breaking the rules!

Actually Thursday wasn't a brilliant day either – what with bin bags bursting in the car on the way down the track to the bin. Had to spend ages cleaning up Bin Goo from the back of my car. Then went to put the shopping away and discovered the mice had been in the Pantry . . . so lots of cleaning. Then dropped a bottle of bleach which promptly cracked . . loads more mopping up. Then because of all the cleaning I managed to completely miss meeting on of Lixtroll's friends who had popped in from Amsterdam to visit for a few hours and to top it all off I broke a lovely tall glass vase when it slipped out of my hand into the sink . . . so that, in short, was Thursday.

Friday started out so well. I went over to see Humpty and Lixtroll which was lovely and saw Lixtroll's Mum and Dad and Gran – who have adopted me – so I was having a wonderful, warm, kinda fuzzy day. I did all my housework – so was also feeling righteous. Then I went to the village to collect some bits and pieces and decided at the last minute to pop into the Co-op. There was no-where to park – usual state of affairs during the tourist season so I parked on double yellows, all us locals do – making sure I wasn't blocking the exit there and nipped into the Co-op. Met some friends in the Co-op chatted – day still going really well.

With the shopping finished I went out to my car – put the shopping in the passenger side of the car and my day fell apart.

One of the great big ANIMAL type four wheel drive police cars came out of the police station car park – a whole 20 yards up the road from where I was . . . and DROVE, yes DROVE down to where I was – did a spectacular U turn in the middle of the High Street and came and parked close up behind me with his bumper sticking out into traffic!!!!!!

I turned round smiling expecting to see one of the policemen I knew and met this stone faced bully – not a 'local' policeman I had met before. Stoneface then proceeded to make a great show of asking why I was parked on double yellow lines. Yes an offence I know – but parking is difficult in our village and people park where they can. For the last eight years that I have lived in the village the police have 'allegedly' turned a blind eye to parking offences . . . which is not easy as most of the 'offending' parking takes place right outside the police station!!!

Anyway I explained to stoneface . . no place to park blah blah only popping in etc etc. Stone face ordered me to 'wait there.' Then he made a great big show of going and getting his parking ticket book from his car. Then he proceeded very very slowly to fill out the ticket. I have never actually been given ticket before – so assumed that because of the length of time he was taking that there must be a huge amount to fill out. There isn't – as I found out later. He was going for maximum embarrassment in making a very public show of humiliating me.

At one point I asked about the three cars on the other side of the road parked on the pavement – one of which was parked right outside the police station. I was told yes they were parked illegally, but I was parked more illegally (PARDON!) and anyway he had the wrong parking ticket book and no he wasn't going to do anything about them. It gets worse . . . a woman driver of one of the illegally parked cars actually walked over the road to ask stoneface a question . . . .did he say anything to he about her illegal parking . . no he did not. He stopped and talked to her for a while and then turned back to continue his slow and bullish humiliation of me. . . . . . . You know giving me a warning would have done . . . I am very law abiding and was – yes WAS very respectful of the police . . .

It used to be a standing joke in the village that many years ago a new keen police officer went round the village handing out parking tickets until he was told by his superior – we don't do that here in this village . . . . So what the berludy hell has changed and when . . . because clearly no-one has informed the community that there is now zero tolerance in Killin – oh yes apparently we have zero tolerance here . . it will be guns next. And if indeed the policy has changed how about warning people first. And what has happened to respect. Stoneface could do with going on a communication course – he behaved in an aggressive, overbearing and bullying manner which whilst fine for in the big Cities – is not fine for policing Village communities.

Happy Snaper was incensed when I told him what had happened – not the fact that I had got a ticket, but the pure victimisation of the manner in which it had been done. We actually went back to the village to say that we wanted to complain. Arrogant stoneface actually rolled his eyes at us . . . . good grief is this how he is going to treat the older generation of the Village.

I can honestly say I was very upset by the whole incident.

So we went home – had dinner – watch TV - usual stuff. HS went to bed early. I couldn't sleep . . . . so popped over to see Lixtroll cos I was still feeling upset. We talked. I was still drinking the same glass of wine I had been drinking all evening. Later I went home. Went upstairs and did my switch everything off routine . . decided to switch all the lights off so that I didn't disturb HS when I opened the bedroom door. Walked to the bedroom door – went to push it open and fell down the stairs . . . I hadn't walked along far enough. . . . . . . so not the best of days for Westerwitch.

Cor guess WOT – I got exploding lights and EVERYTHING when I hit the bottom of the stairs. I hurt my left shoulder neck and right leg . . . and got a bad case of the giggles . . . even now typing it out it makes me laugh . . . I think I will be stiff and sore for a few days – but will be ok . . . Westerwitches, even us serious criminal ones, obviously bounce!

Tunnels and lights

2007-06-10T15:40:00.000+02:00

I thought I would do this particular Blog to cheer up any mother and indeed father . . . currently locked into the teenage battle.

Been there with both son and daughter. . . . thought it would never end – couldn't wait for either child to leave home – whilst dreading it at the same time . . .

Worked out that my teenagers, maybe all teenagers needed to hate me (well no, not all teenagers actually hate me personally – but hate their own home situation – then again maybe all teenagers do hate me, . . . I always avoid gangs of them when I am out – sure they are looking at me a bit funny, or is that just paranoia,) so yes all teenagers hate living at home in order to make it ok for them to leave and to become independent . . . blah blah you know what I mean . . . horribly over simplified, but you can see it all going on in front of you and understand why they are being so unreasonable horrible to their angelic parents.

I did wonder if I would ever get to be friends with my daughter ever ever again. At one point in our relationship just speaking without rowing was my goal. But she has left home now – been gone two years actually. I have managed to let go and guess what we get on really really well – she evens phone me for advice. Yes really and truly.

I am learning to let go of our son too, although still have little outbursts of have you done this and that now and again. Especially recently with signing of the contract of his new flat share – he avoids me on MSN – but I am getting better. I am proud of him though.

So here is a little tale of going to the cinema in Falkirk – a couple of weeks ago – the whole family meeting up to spend quality time together and . . . Phoaarrr - went to see Pirates of the Caribbean 3 . . . . . three hours of Captain Jack Sparrow . . . . phoaarrrr - oh and the film was berludy brilliant as well.

Unknown to me Wildchild - daughter of Happy Snaper and me - Westerwitch - had stolen my fart machine and remote control and hidden the fart machine in my shoulder bag . . . . she let the machine off just as we all got up to leave after the film (don't know how she managed to not let it off before – I wouldn't have been that patient) . . . . . . I was crying so much with laughter that I was completely helpless. Then when I could finally see through the tears the whole family had rushed on ahead of me - but the remote has quite a range, so it kept going off in my bag and I couldn't find it to turn it off. . . . which in turn doubled me up laughing all over again – much to the amazement of the other people leaving the cinema. I don't think we are actually banned from the cinema – just got a lot of disapproving looks.

Then we went for a meal in Pizza Hut and Wildchild and I let the fart machine off in Pizza hut toilets. Hoots of laughter. Don't think we are banned from there either . . .more disapproving looks though – good grief . .

Then much to our hysterical merriment as we prepared to go home we discovered that unlocking the car with the car beeper thingy and then starting the car also set the machine off. So we sat in the car park starting the car, turning off the engine and starting it again and howling with laughter the whole time - I very nearly had to let HS drive home I was laughing sooooo much. I don't think we are banned from the car park . . . . yes more looks . . .and some of them from teenagers – pah that'll 'learn' them to look at me funny! Ptooooeeeey.

Wildchild you are every bit as disreputable as your mother and I am so very proud of you. . . . . but also very very proud of both of us that we have now got such a good relationship. . . . . now about that grandchild . . . .

NB Left to right - Wildchild's Other half, Wildchild and our Son.

Something about nothing

2007-05-31T12:36:00.000+02:00

This week is a very busy week at Cesspit Cottages - our daughter came to stay Mon - Weds. And for the next three days myself and HS will be out from the afternoon until late - 'doing' the last of our drama club play tour. After that I run out of excuses for not reading people's blogs and for not writing my own.

Meanwhile here is something I wrote a while back, but didn't get around to posting.

Gravity a disconnected rant

So why should gravity have all the fun. I suspect gravity and nature have to be of the male persuasion – despite the fact we wax lyrical about 'Mother' nature.

Lets take a nonsensical look at the complete absence of facts. Nature made women in such a way that gravity could laugh hysterically as things, over the years, drift inevitably downwards. Clearly nature and gravity are in the clothing business together as we end up buying items to lift and separate, others firm up appearances, or we simply accept defeat and buy big and baggy.

I suspect though there was a major design fault with periods . . .yes we women suffer . . .but with PMS hah . . .we more than get our own back on man.

And who the hell designed the lighting in changing rooms? I thought you shops wanted us to buy your clothes not rush gibbering and tearful from the your shops. Worse still are the hairdressers mirrors. Is this the hand of gravity and nature I see turned against us yet again. Is it their giggling I hear in the changing cubicle next door and is it they who are lurking, sniggering under the dryer hoods in the hairdressers.

Winter is always the kinder of the seasons we can hide in sweaters and big and baggy thick, this and that, but even global warming is making the cover up harder now. But the summer, oh dear me the summer. Sunlight glinting off white legs and dappled orange peel, bat wings, turkey necks, spare tyres all rolled out for the summer months. And nature has clearly addled the younger female brain – as trouser bands dip lower and tops shrink ever-upwards – many of these deluded young things, in truth, look ok . . but oh dear so many don't and worse still appear to have no idea how absurdly awful they look!

As we wonderful women age over the years we do appear to wrinkle readily and need more and more ironing. Whereas men in turn simply grow rugged and more interesting. I ask you is that fair? The male animal can indulge in procreation all year round for evermore, whereas the female animal is doomed to spend a great deal of time getting fat and and playing ping pong with errant hormones.

I look at the young though and do I envy them their youth, oh good grief no. I love being who I am and the age I am and everything that goes with it. Oh yes, like everyone, I have my off times and bad hair days and wobbly scale months and, but I also have my many wonderful memories.

So gravity I poke my finger in your eye. With all the love and laughter I have had in my life so far, do your worst, it matters little. Nature I have golden memories brighter than any of your glorious summer days. So try what you will, my memories will never tarnish.

As for the changing room mirrors though – all you shops out there are you completely blind, do you never actually go into the cubicles yourselves. Supermarkets spend millions on lighting to make us feel good so that we shop and shop . . .why aren't you doing the same. Is it your sole purpose in life to make us women feel suicidal. Or is it some bizarre obligatory law that states that all lighting in all clothes shops absolutely every where combined with special designed mirrors must add at least ten pounds to all us poor unsuspecting women, crease and wrinkle everything dramatically whilst multiply cellulite by obscene amounts. Hah all you clothes shop type people I poke both my finger in your eyes too - big time -and say 'now get the finger out and doooo something about your dreadful berluddy lighting and mirrors, before we do something about you and make you go in these wretched cubicles yourselves.

East Kilbride

2007-05-24T15:56:00.000+02:00

Oh dear it has been a long blogger's gap. So let me start by catching up and taking you back to the 11th May and our drama club competing in the East Kilbride One Act Play competition with John Godber's Happy Jack.

East Kilbride is the new town of Scotland – not totally unlike Harlow where I grew up . . .(yes, yes, I'm an ex-Essex girl – heard it all before). Um interesting place East Kilbride. Odd looking theatre. It ls ugly and squat and very 60's on the outside. Inside it is a wonderful confusing maze of corridors and rooms and stairs and dressing rooms and a two level bar and one level coffee room and of course a great big – want to act on it stage. I did have that pleasure last year. Smug witch. But maybe that is another blog. To Blog or not to blog . . . sorry!

Before the play we are allowed a half an hour technical to set up. And a very scary half an hour it was too. So much to organise with the lighting – very complicated lighting and vital to the play. Happy Snaper – playing lighting technician excelled himself – he had plenty of help from the resident lighting crew, but still a very daunting task. Then there was the sound – oh dear and yes there was the sound – operated by Westerwitch. I was shown the sound desk, the mini disk – and told there you are you work it out. AAAggghhhhh I used to operate sound desks when I worked in TV – but that was back in the 80's and the sound then was on the one inch VIDEO TAPE. Mini disks – Mini disks. Oh help. . . er . . gibber . . which way does the disk go in – red face – head hanging in shame.

And then all of a sudden there was a great big purple flash and I was in my element. I swished the faders up and down – I twiddled all the wonderful little dials and occasionally remembered to play the mini disk. – cauldron all the time bubbling merrily at my side. Opps sorry there go the smoke alarms again and oh my goodness what an efficient sprinkler system you have – cackle cackle. And yes Bill if you are new to this site and this is the first Blog you have ever read – run away very fast . . . . for this witch has unleashed her broomstick and knows how to fly . . . . .zoom . . . whoosh.. I played and played and set up levels for the whole show and wrote it all down in my best un-joined up squiggle and then played and cackled a bit more purely for the sheer joy of it all and then I was well and truly ready.

Nervous me – of course I berludy well was, knee trembling stomach gurgling, mouth full of sand, loud buzzing in my ears feking terrified kind of nervous. The time arrived. I took my place in the control booth, the curtains opened, the spotlight came up . . . and so did the sound . . . .whoop ferlippin whoop and we were off. . . I was flying again

The Actors – just two of them - out there on the stage depicting the life of Elizabeth – miners wife and Jack her husband – miner - from the point where they both died and then back in time through various events in their lives to arrive eventually at the beginning when Jack first asked 'Liz' out. A very demanding piece for both actors as they both have to play other characters as well as the main characters and move seamlessly in out of various scenes. And both Actors did us all really proud. So much so we got second place in the festival. And if you consider that the festival lasted from the Tuesday to the Saturday with two/three plays every night and all of a very high standard – second place was no mean achievement.

Each play was adjudicated by a single judge, Happy Jack received an excellent adjudication – with both Actors being nominated for best Actor.

So Happy Jack – Happy Cast – Happy Technical Crew, Happy Director and Happy prompt – the latter pretty much had the night off.

And Happy Blogging Witch. Cackle Cackle . . . . zooms off until next time.

NB The picture was taken during our Spring performance in our local village - not at East Kilbride. Picture by Happy Snaper.

A night to remember

2007-05-09T13:43:00.000+02:00

Phwoar . . . and double phwoarrr and then a lot more phwoar!!!!!

Bryan Adams with a Y and not an i as I was happily typing before I went to the concert on Bank Holiday Monday. I was, I confess, not a huge fan of Mr Adams - was . . . that is. I love his music and we play his CD's a lot but still wasn't a massive fan. Kericky, then we went to Mr Adam's amazing concert – what a night to remember - now I am totally converted.

I hadn't really appreciated just what a rocker Mr Adams is and having never seen him in concert I had no idea how exciting he is as a performer. So much energy! So much Phwoar.

We had to wait a good while before he appeared on stage . . . tension building and all that, whiling away the time playing er . . I spy . . . whatever . . . and then . . . he and his band just appeared on a small and previously unnoticed stage right in the middle of the SECC audience (well unnoticed by me that is) and not on the stage at the far end as expected and Kerpow and Wow - did they rock us right onto our feet. A few numbers later – the last being just Mr Adams and his guitar – super impressive and very emotional – the whole band moved to the bigger stage and it just got better and better. They rocked and rocked and rolled and then took it down a notch and played the more smootchy stuff and then back to rocking again. And phwoar did he look good. Ooops sorry about the drool people in front . . . yeah I know – but you're drooling too!

What a showman Mr Adams turned out to be – he really knew just how to connect with the audience and how to keep us all on our feet. Well all except Mr and Mrs Boring in row three who seemed to have forgotten how to applaud . . . . and were clearly observing scowl at a concert goer day

We had been to the SECC before - saw Eddie Izzard there (brilliant he was too, but obviously different type of show), but most big music concerts are played at Hampdon Park – we saw U2 there and Robbie Williams. Not keen on Hampdon at all – despite the size and the opportunity for huge sets and special effects. Why? Because - the sound is feking awful. Big disadvantage at a music concert I would have thought. . . or maybe I am just being picky!

The SECC is a much smaller venue and although there were thousands of people there somehow it was intimate too and you could actually see the band as people and not gyrating dots on a distant stage.

Mr Adams had a very simple set with just a few lights – well you know loads of lights really, but not on a huge scale . . and the sound . . . was berludy excellent. It was a concert about music . . with a good dollop of phwoar – have I mentioned the phwoar!

Four encores we got – yes four . . . the very last one was again Mr Adams and his guitar – a bit unrehearsed – but the audience just would not go home. . . .

And Scottish audiences – well you have to be there to truly get the buzz. But the Scots really know how to Party with a huge capital P. Mr Robbie Williams said we were scary as we roared our approval over and over again . . . .U2 pronounced us the best audience ever and Mr Adams was clearly impressed with us too. I got chatting to a few 'out of town' folk after and they too were knocked out by the big braw Scottish reception.

And yes it really was a night to remember and last night, with Matron away and no neighbours, or guests for us to annoy, Happy Snaper and I put Bryan Adams on the sound system – turned up the volume and partied all over again . . . .whoop whoop.

PS sorry the pictures aren't up to much but Happy Snaper only had his Mobile phone to capture the event . . . .and a pretty old phone by today's standards . . .

Nerves and plays and stuff!

2007-05-07T15:55:00.000+02:00

Oh dear my first blog since the site began – I do hope it isn't going to hurt and that I haven't forgotten how!

Friday 4th May 7.30 pm. I stood gibbering hopelessly on stage, waiting for the moment when I would have to creep out onto the stage all on my own – front of curtain, in a spotlight – to tell everyone that I was Squadwon leader Cwafowd (Cwafie does't sound his Rs) and that I was 28 years old (guaranteed)to get a laugh) and that I would be dead in ten minutes – um the play Stalag 69 is a comedy . . . honest.

Once again as I jittererd about waiting for my cue – I was confronted, and not for the first time, with the thought 'why the berludy hell do I do this to myself?'

Music started and I was off and Cwafie took over. And once again I knew why I put myself through it all. Why I spend Thursday and Sunday evenings in a cold hall – where you can see your breathe in the air – rehearsing and rehearsing and rehearsing. Why I spend hours – learning lines that will inevitably vanish as soon as the lights go up – lines that then somehow magically come out in mostly the right order. Why I turn out time and time again on wet damp and windy evenings instead of snuggling up by the fire. Why? Because I LOVE it that is why. I love the electric thrill of being on stage, the buzz, the adrenaline, the nerves, yes even the nerves, the thrill of the audience responding, crying, laughing and the satisfaction and relief and after show party when it is all over.

Stalag 69 by Michael Green is a play set in a Nazi Prison Cell during the 2nd World war. When the curtain opens it quickly becomes apparent that the 'stage crew' have put the scenery up – upside down (see picture one) – which creates absolute chaos – with poor old Cwafie twying to keep it all going. He has porridge tipped over him, he has to tie himself up and even shoot himself, because no one can enter the cell . . . the door is six foot up on the upside down flat. The play finishes and the director announces that because the play is an important piece of work – we are going to do it all again . . . and we do.

This time the set is the right way up. All goes okish – until Cwafie in his enthusiasm gets his arms stuck through the prison cell bars and pulls the whole lot out of the wall . . . . There is then a chain of events which leads to the walls of the prison collapsing and revealing the back stage crew and all their sound effect paraphernalia See picture 2). Cwafie then has to do the rest of the play with the bars stuck on his arms, whilst the back stage crew rush about doing their sound effects.

The play is fantastic fun to do – very physical, messy (the porridge) and occasionally painfull . . . ie on Friday Cwafie just didn't get out of the way in time and one of the 12foot scenery flats fell on him . . . . Berludy hell – that was NOT supposed to happen. Knocked old Cwafie to his knees – but he got up and carried on . . . complete Bar Steward that he is I wanted to make a fuss . . . . But whilst the curtains are open and the lights are up Cwafie is in charge!

Stalag 69 – only lasts 25 mins. The rest of the evening was filled with a mini play – written by one of our members and co directed by Westerwitch. Four comedy sketches and then the main play of the night Happy Jack by John Godber. The latter is a lovely play spanning the life and rough love of Elizabeth and Jack (a coal miner and his wife). It is a play filled with laughter and tears, potential violence and incredible tenderness. Every time I see it – and I have seen it quite a few times now – I get something new from it. I did the sound for Happy Jack. Happy Snaper did the lighting for the whole show!

So two performances under our belts – four more to go in four different Scottish locations. Plus Happy Jack being performed at the East Kilbride One Act Play Festival this coming Friday. So busy busy busy and plenty more nerves to battle with in the coming weeks.

Good grief – what a huge Blog – but I feel so much better for it. And as for Cwafie – he is back in his box until Friday week. 28 years old indeed and the stubble . . . . and he smokes a pipe . . .

The last moments

2007-05-03T15:41:00.000+02:00

How to keep in touch with us all
Friday Apr 20 2007 12:35:17
By westerwitch

Hi to you all so that we can keep in touch try www.purplecoo.co.uk - Comp Lit husband has set it up as a half way house blog and chat site.

It is not advertising anything so hope I am allowed to say this. It is purely so that we don't loose site (heheh sight) of each other.

I am personally really sad that so many people are saying goodbye and hope this way we can stay together in one form or another.

Apologies if this out of order, but I have made so many good friends on the site and can't bear the thought of it all falling apart.

Maybe see you there - maybe not.

Thank you so much for such a wonderful time and lets blog on somehow.

Oh berlucks I've done it again.

Stand aside Ragrug - I'm Harkdorse . . . hic . . . .off to rehe . . .rhaer rheh . .drama now . . gic

byeeeeeee

Congratulations

2007-05-03T15:35:00.000+02:00

Ohmigod – deranged marbles all over the place – I appear to ditto'd and posted whilst I was writing the rest – berludy hell.

I would like to offer my congratulations to the three shortlisted finalists. I suspect they may well be having mixed feelings after the reaction of the blogging community. But well done – you are what CL want – and may the best columnist win.

As for how we are all feeling about the results – I think Bill and Milla have said it all. I would give you my short list, but there are just too many to mention and I would not want to accidentally leave any one out. They might hunt me down and melt my laptop.

I have however gained far more than I could ever imagined by blogging on the CL site. I have found some wonderful friends. The support and camaraderie is incredible and just to really bung the cherry on the cake my own daughter has told me how she feels about me . . . . er we now communicate by blog – not sure what that says about us . . . . . but as she would say . . . whatever. And I am writing everyday . . . what more can I ask for . . .well loads . . but that's not the point.

So blog on . . . . and are we downhearted . . . of course we berludy well are . . . . but we'll soon get over that . . . . now got to rush off out again – blah blah and then rehearsals – blah blah – so I doubt I will get any commenting done today – Ok then . . . huge cheat here – this is my comment today on all my favourite blogs.

TO ALL OF YOU – reading your blogs makes my day . . . I think you are so amazing that the word to describe you hasn't been invented yet . . I am so proud to know you all. Thank you and see you all tomorrow.

Hey hey not on the shortlist – typo's . . poo who cares – grammer – thing of the past, wine chocolate and children all rock . . whoop whoop!

Reply to Wildchild

2007-05-03T15:32:00.000+02:00

Well it is 2.00 am and I can't sleep – far too overwhelmed in a squelchy emmotional kind of way.

I have to write and post this now. Maybe then I will get some sleep – I need it -we are off out in the morning. Oh dear keyboard fizzing - bit soggy I guess.

And if you are wondering why, then please read what first time blogger Wildchild wrote about westerwitch last night.

And thank you Wildchild – for once and only this once ok - I am actually lost for words – but thank you, thank you, thank you. You have made my day, week, month, year . . . life . . it has all been worth it

My Mum the Westerwitch

2007-05-03T15:09:00.000+02:00

To explain the blog below - this was posted by my daughter – Wildchild - on the other side - the night before the short list was announced. I am so very proud of what she wrote - red face at hopeless self indulgence - and I have posted this here for those of you that didn't get the chance to read it and would like to.

My daughter has never been one to express her emotions - but blogging allowed her to do this . . . .and hopefully Purplecoo will allow many others to also express how they feel and to share the ups and downs of their lives with all of us so that we can laugh and cry and support each other . . .

My Mum the Westerwitch

By Wildchild

Your probably wondering what the westerwitch is! Well the first thing to say is that she claims to have lost her marbles along time ago but in all honesty she never really had any. She’s an awful lot to take in so beware.  The westerwitch is commonly found running around the highlands enjoying the Scottish weather. She is social although not necessarily socially acceptable, and can be found hanging around with lixtroll chasing girdly birds. It is easy to confuse westerwitch and the lixtroll as they are similar - pixie like in behaviour - but don’t be fooled. If you really, really, really must find her, you need to have a few tricks up yer sleeve. For example, a trail of wine, chocolate, yare dragons and a few U2 songs should work nicely. Should this fail then count yourself lucky. She is clever although her common sense is questionable. For example, telling the westerwitch that the word ‘gullible’ has recently been taken out of the dictionary and she will believe you every time. The parental skills of the westerwitch are a little odd! Although she is capable of parenthood, the resulting offspring may lack sanity. I’ve lived with the westerwitch my whole life, along with dogs, cats, parrots, ferrets, rats, hamster, snakes, chinchillas and of course…gold fish; and I’m now studying zoology as a result. She has a broomstick in the cupboard, a cauldron on the stove and an unmistakable cackle.  You see, the westerwitch is my mother. She has ‘raised’ me and ‘loved’ me and ‘nurtured’ me into the person that I am. She’s done an ok job I guess since our mother-daughter relationship has been mostly practical jokes and the insults. Since I have been more than a foetus on this earth, we have been annoying each other and its not about to stop. But among the ‘I CANT WAIT TO LEAVE HOME’ and the ‘Great, I’ll help you pack’ we’ve managed to come out of it with a pretty healthy relationship. And to be honest, I’ll be chuffed if when I turn fifty something, I’m half the person she is (playing with artificial remote control fart machines). She’ll read this and get teary, but I shall deny it when she confronts me despite the evidence.  So as I sit here stressing about the reproductive patterns of the cephalopod mollusc (it’s actually quite interesting), I wonder what its like to be normal. But then of course…who wants to be normal, right?   I guess what I’m trying to say is, the westerwitch ain’t a half bad mutha!

Cesspit Cottages

2007-05-03T15:01:00.000+02:00

'Good evening Cesspit Cottages. Uh huh, you are looking at our web site now uh huh, how can I help you? Oh you are sorry for ringing up so late , of course I understand . . I mean I haven't got anything better to do . . . it is the only time you can ring, I see, after midnight – sorry I can't hear you is that your TV in the background. Its the police radio you have tuned into – oh I see. Mmm good.

'Yes when for? I see tomorrow, well today really. Er let me look. Yes you are in luck, we can do that. Oh hahahah yes we do take dogs, but we prefer if you pay with money. Hahahahaha. Hello, hello are you still there, oh you are. Um, what sort of dog have you got? Uh huh six vicious pit bull terriers, none of whom have ever been on leads. Oh yes sounds wonderful, no, no we love dogs, absolutely all dogs. Yes, yes of course we do advertise that we take dogs and no, no we . . er aren't even the tiniest pit bullist at all. Um will they be wearing muzzles? Hahahaha no of course not – hahhahah of course they are allergic to collars and muzzles, can't think how I didn't guess. Er are they likely to chase my chickens. Uh huh champion chicken killers mmmmm delightful, they can pull down a full grown deer, but they love sheep . . really . . oh that's nice . . . oh I see, but they couldn't eat a whole one . . hahahaha.' (Berludy hell). 'Price yes you want a price. Uh huh. So how many days, phew just the three nights. Well that will £xxx plus £xx for your dogs and that is at winter rates so a good discount for you. What, sorry what . . . Oh I see, what do you mean am I taking the p*ss. Er no that is the bare minimum we can let the cottage for and not go bust. Uh huh, you say you can get a cottage just down the road from us for how much? Well no I don't know how they can do that. No that was my best price. You want to go away and think about it and you need to contact the other members of your party. Er how many of you are there? Fifteen! Um the cottages only sleep four each . . .well it does actually say that on the web site . . You only want one cottage . . what . . oh but you thought with sleeping bags and stuff and your mates are coming up with their camper vans . . . . . and their dogs agggghhhhh. And and . . .Oh look . . er . . oh my gawd um a tornado . . yes that's right a great big fekking tornado, mmmmm yes er very big er thing and . . . .good grief it has just sucked up both our rental cottages . . mmmm yes both. .. . .well um my goodness . . . . .would you believe it? Sorry better go I have to . . er . . yes er switch off the gas, that's right and the water and and . . . .bye.' Gasp!
'Exploding Cesspit cottages – no S*d off it's after midnight and we are full. . . . .!'

Grockle Bridge

2007-05-03T14:58:00.000+02:00

Oh no its Grockle bridge time again. Approach with dread all ye who wish to enter the village - for cross the bridge you must. Fear not the troll that lurked under the bridge in times gone by. But shake with sheer dread as Grockle Bridge spreads its deadly tentacles in the warming sun . . . . once again.

The drive by Grockles in their glass, wheeled palaces have arrived. The bridge a magnet for their kind. Each delivery doomed for precisely twenty minutes to meander in their own true, glass eyed way on the strip that is Grockle Bridge. They fear not cars - these they know can cause them no harm . . . For they are The Grockles and well they stand their ground. Fierce is the scowl of a Grockle should, in a foolish moment you hoot, or mutter excuse me. The Grockles know who they are and you matter not a jot.

Drive with mute apology all locals who must cross Grockle bridge. Hit not the dog out on long slack lead. Ne'er disturb the flash of the camera bright, nor halt the hum of the cam corder – these be tasks of great importance and you and your daily life will be considered not.

But what is this that approaches the bridge – so close, so close, I am almost there. Almost clear to the other side. Aggghhhh no tis the Grockle Home on wheels. Forthrightly it barges onto the bridge scattering foot bound, lesser Grockles far and wide, superior in its path, and then before me it glides to a smug, sniggering halt. Back must I go, for a Grockle home in tow, must not, cannot be denied. Back through the scowling Grockles – twice have I bothered them now. Back, back all of us, all the cars gathered for the dreaded course, back we all must go.

Grockle home sails past. 4x4 in the lead, caravan bumping behind. Grockle hands remain clamped tightly on the steering wheel, eyes forthrightly front. No thank you wave expected, non given.

Back onto Grockle bridge, once more into the fray dear friends. Drive with gentle care. Berludy, berludy hell now a berludy lorry has driven onto the bridge. Berludy hell he's not getting away with that.

'OY you fek off. Yes you. No see, see, see me, I'm getting out of my car you burger. Engine off, look, and see these keys, yes take a good look . . over the bridge. Oh yes, yes in the river . . if you don't back up . . . you . . . you . . .you bar steward you. Yes in the drink . . now . . . .Oh yes I do mean it.'

Oppps, berludy hell I nearly did as well!

'An you 'n' all.' Phew and he's doing it, he's backing up. Quick, Quick eyes down over the berludy bridge quick, bright red face, sheepish eyes, no sympathy from the Grockles. Got to get tobacco, wine and mushrooms . . . . . . and yes more coffee . . lots of coffee this is only Easter and I have to brave Grockle Bridge several times a week from now on until November. . . . . . AND I still have to find somewhere to park . . . . .

City Slut

2007-05-03T14:56:00.000+02:00

We've been on our one day holiday and son is now happily back at University. I got all drippy briefly and then discovered the car was tissueless – burger – couldn't indulge.

When the hell did Edinburgh get so grubby. I've always liked Edinburgh, but yesterday what a slut she was. Needed a good bath and groom. Clearly been out boozing and smoking and puking by the evidence in the park. And I had obviously forgotten that was it scowl ferociously at a stranger day? Must have been a helluva party, but I only seemed to have arrived in time for the colossal hangover. Maybe it was me. I was clearly not in happy fluffy mood. Sometimes I love a quick dip into buzzy town life – but oh not yesterday. Stick it I'm heading for the hills. Give me - exploding cesspools and shrieking gleefully with Lixtroll - over slutty cities any day.

Some people are asking how Lixtroll and Westerwitch know each other. She's a squatter and I can't get rid of her . . . oh no sorry that is a complete lie. Er . . . she is my long lost sister from Australia. Oh actually that may not be true either. She is a guest that refuses to leave. Oh no I remember . . I am the squatter and she can't get rid of me. Sorry lying in the sun again. The simple truth is we (husband and I) had a dreadful fire, lost money and had to sell off part of our dream. Luck was clearly having a good giggle last Spring and brought Lixtroll and Poo here to be our neighbours. If you have a strong constitution, nothing to do and a lot of coffee – go and read my three part fire blog.

And now I boldly go to muck out son's discarded bedroom! Oh, but wait I've had a great idea – take the jet washer up onto the decking (it is on the first floor – the berludy decking that is . . and the jet washer, once we haul it up there). Son's bedroom window is downstairs and close to the decking – we can open his window and schoosh all the muck from the decking through into his bedroom– improvement – massive – sorted!

Off to Edinburgh

2007-05-03T14:52:00.000+02:00

Mixed feelings day today. No real time to Blog. Off to Edinburgh to take Son back to University . . . I know he has mixed feelings about returning because . . I talked to him. Yes I held a conversation with a teenager. He loves the freedom of living away from home. All the things you would expect really. Then he said 'but I am going to miss the wonderful smell of home when I open the front door, gawd I love that smell.' Sorry sorry, got something in my eye here, sniff sniff and oh dear hay fever already!

So I shall have mixed feelings too. Sad to see him go I shall worry about him and want to protect him from the World, but berludy hell I won't miss the mess, the washing up, the mess, the cooking, the mess, the washing, the mess and not helping with the dogs and the mess and oh yes the mess. To be fair most of the mess has stayed in his room, but it is pretty horrific. Even the dogs lay a trail when they enter his room to ensure their safe return to the hall way.

So off into the sunset we all go and return with just the two of us.

I am putting up the picture of the Girdley Bird again as a huge big thank you to Lixtroll. She asked for a copy of the poem a while back and then went away and drew the fabulous picture you see here of the bird. The original is quite big and utterly amazing – and would you believe it the daft bat actually GAVE it to me. I was and am knocked out. So although I have said thank you once or twice before . . .I am saying it again . . .THANK YOU. You are a lovely friend and the Angels were indeed smiling the day you came round to view and then later buy our house. You are still a daft bat though . . .thank gawd . . someone I can gibber at and be understood . . .

Aaaaaaaaaa . . aaaaaaaa we are rushing around outside and shouting aaaaaa cos the guests have gone. . . . . . Lixtroll, Lixtroll look look the cesspit has overflowed bleah. Right you dig through the poooo here and lift the drain there and rod just about there . . . so love to help but we are off to Edinburgh aaaaaaaaaaaa.

The Girdley Bird

2007-05-03T14:45:00.000+02:00

Sorry guys - I am in a bit of a rush today - not because I am busy oh no, but there is apparently this mental stimulation going around and the voices are telling me I am mental enough as it is.

Bill, Bill you haven't checked my exam paper you rat you . . . all that hard work and where are you . . . out to lunch. Pah!

Checked my teeth in the mirror this morning - still covered in black dots, or was that the mirror. Ooops spots in front of my eyes. Ferlipping heck only seconds ahead of mental stimulation now . . . Quick quick here is a poem about a country bird, wot lives in the country. I did the picture tooo. OW OWWWWWW. Berludy hell that hurt . . . ok ok Lixtroll did the picture . . . but I'm the only one with spotty teeth.

Oh look there's a Girdley Bird
See it's flying glupside round
It must be from Blossie Land
Cos they do that all the time

Oh it'll turn and look at you
Should you hang around
It will peer at you from its frumble eyes
Which are part upper most the other side of brown

Watch it toes though dare you stay
An believe me should you see them quimber
Get tready to run as fast as you can
Cos it's going to dive at you quick and blimber

A Girdley bird will love you
But please remember they are sticky
From lofty plume down to whirly tails
and their beaks are ever so bernippy

Much better to admire from afar
than get stuck to this gwickle bird
Cos wearing a Girdly bird for the rest of your life
Is of the twurtest thing I've ever heard.

And tomorrow – I promise I will write a proper Counrtry Diary!

Exam Paper

2007-05-03T14:41:00.000+02:00

EXAM PAPER

Name: Westerwitch

Date: 11th April 2007 (so far so good)

Examiner : Mentor Bill

Subject: Blogging

Grade: Unlikely to get one.

Question: Imagine, if you will, if this was the first CL blog you ever came across. (please see comment and exam question set by Mentor Bill on westerwitch's I did it my way – eventually.

Answearee . . Tum ti tum ti tum. La la la la la. Oooops sorry must concentrate. Not that I would ever buy concentrate, only the real thing for me. Toot toot toot. Not fair wanna be outside. Not sitting in this smelly ole exam room. Rootntootin . . Oh yuk just bit the rubber off my pencil. Gosh it's warm in here zzzzzzz

Lots of wavy lines and harp type music.

Oh hello, who are you? Gosh you look familiar. Shaking a bit I see. Clean nails, nicely combed hair. What's that you're saying. . you've crossed your eyes and dotted your teeth. Oh my goodness you have haven't you. Did you use permanent marker on your teeth . . oh dear.

So you are a first time reader and want a trip round the CL blog site. Oh well take my hand and I'll see what I can do. Yuk what have you got in your hand . . .pooooo. No please don't throw it on the floor. Now look you have gone and trodden in it. No, no come back don't go and tread it everywhere!

Er no thank you I wouldn't like a bit of your sandwich . . .oh I see you made the bread and the cheese and grew the salad yourself. It's goats cheese you say Fascinating. Cor it don't half pong.

Where on earth did that Dove come from. Oh you keep doves and breed them and at the same time you do tricks at children's parties. Oh yes. Hahahaha I've got a joke vomit too and a whoopy cushion – did you know that if you squeeze a whooppeee cushion under water . . oh you did.

You like horses you say – ah well plenty on this site, even got our own Dark Horse and we drink at the False Start Public Bar. Oh so yours is a double and you like quality not quantity . . . unless it is chocolate, or wine.

No no please don't play with that digger. Gosh you handle it very well. Can you solder. Oh well can't have everything.

Yes I do like your lipstick – should it have all those bees swarming round it though . . . . and why are you pulling a cat out of a rabbit hole . . I'm getting all confused here . . .

You know you really do look familiar . . . no, oh no don't go all wavy like that you are making me feel sick . . .

Ooooops where am. Ohmigodde I have just met myself coming the other way and it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be . . . AHAH I've got it.

EXAM ANSWER . . . It very much depends on whose reading the Blog and if it isn't to their taste then there is such a huge variety on the CL site and all from a truly wonderful bunch of people that no-one is likely to go away disappointed. After all Bill you are still with us.xxx

Chickenix Blog

2007-05-03T14:38:00.000+02:00

Well berludy hell – I think yesterday might have got to me. Cos this morning I put on my politicly correct purple Hunter wellies and stomped out to feed the sheep, chickens blah blah blah, normally a job I enjoy – but kept getting this image of a certain lady nodding in approval at my country ways. . . . . . if not the purple of my wellies.

Well it stops right here. Keep an eye on your digger Lixtroll I am going to urbanise it with a good dollop of lipstick. I have shredded my beloved wellies and am now hobbling around painfully in mud caked high heels. The dogs are dressed in fluffy little pink numbers and I am murderously shopping at Tesco-on-line. I have flattened my greenhouse with Lixtroll's digger and my welding and glazing kits are up for sale on ebay. I am feverishly bidding for a gun and fishing tackle on line so that I can sell those toooo. Mind you I am having a bit of trouble here as my wine soaked keyboard keeps exploding and the keys are all glued together with melted easter eggs.

Coffee wasn't mentioned in yesterday's tirade, but I'm drinking gallons of it just in case. Kids . . kids . . no kids around so will have to work on that one. And why all this feverish activity you may ask . . . .how the hell should I know – somewhere a wine free brain cell is protesting that whatever happens I don't want to be like a certain lady . . . oh b****r I wish I hadn't shredded my wellies though. And how the hell do people manage with these heels. Whoops safari has just unexpectedly quite for the ninth time – Tesco you can stick it . . .oh no apparently I can stick it. According to them I live too far into the countryside for them to deliver to me . . . .Ah the dogs have eaten their fluffy pink numbers (expect an ExmoorJane soon) and I have come too damn close to letting a certain lady blob all over my confidence.

So quick re-wind and back to my happy ditzy version of country living normal . . which will include wine and chocolate and children when they are home – the children - wine and chocolate are always at home. It will also include the way I live MY life in the countryside and not someone else's version of how I should do it. And very much on the top of my happy country living list is blogging and 'hanging out' with you lot – cos in the words of Wild&Green you rock! OK?

One word of warning though – Lixtroll I am still coming after your digger with lipstick and glitter and streamers and pink fluffy feathers . . . . . .

Easter Blog

2007-05-03T14:35:00.000+02:00

This is just a quick Blog – cos I can give it up anytime . . .

Wow I got a bit of jolt this morning. Remembering that in a previous blog I had stated that I was not the mother sobbing at the school gates on the first day of school, nor was I the mother miserable with her empty nest etc. . . Ok so Easter Morning lying in bed with cup of coffee – flowers and chockies from husband – excellent – all going really well and no urge to blog.

Enter son who is home from University for Easter. We give him his Easter egg, he gives us ours . . . yum. Then son sits on the bed and it all hits me. This year there has been no mad, Saturday midnight preparation of Easter Egg hunt – to be followed by equally mad far too early in the morning Easter day Easter egg hunt This year we are not as a family all sitting on our bed and giggling and arguing and guzzling chocolate. This afternoon we will not be looking forward to Easter Lunch together. In fact as a family we will not be together at all today. And I confess I am really missing it. Even a bit tearfully . . .hopefully a quick blog will help .Daughter is working today so she and boyfriend can't come and visit us. I have rehearsals tonight – so we can't go and visit them. Busy lives. I don't mind, or begrudge my kids their lives in the slightest – I am delighted and really proud that they are spreading their wings and doing so well. There is a small niggling doubt though – did I enjoy my time enough with the kids when they were growing up – did I treasure every second as fully as I could. Hah of course not – as much as we were a 'happy family' – my wonderful kids drove me nuts on an hourly basis and many was the time I wish they would hurry up and grow up. Well they did and although I am enjoying my new found freedom . . . . I miss them. But wait – one day I will be a grandmother . . . . .possibly not for many years . . . oh but the pranks I can plan . . . . did you know that whoopy cushions make a truly disgusting noise when squashed under water - go on try it, let me know what you think. Plus I have bought a fart machine – which I have tested out on the drama club . . . . oh that was sooooo funny . . . . .there is the laughter machine that reacts to light and laughs hysterically, works best hidden in the fridge and the over sensitive key whistler you can tape under the table . . . and I can feed my grandkids e numbers and send them home hyper, I can teach them to buy joke shop poo and vomit on line . . . . oh so much to look forward to and I will enjoy every last second . . . . . . . .

Phone fun

2007-05-03T14:33:00.000+02:00

Thank you so much for all your comments yesterday.

I thought I was mostly over the fire by now, but having finally written it all down it left me shaking and in an odd mood for the rest of the day. I feel I have now exorcised any remaining ghosts and thank you very much for allowing me to do this.

As husband and son are still away climbing the three peaks (one to go today - two under their belts)and as Poo was watching cricket, Lixtroll came over for a visit last night. Big glasses of wine, lots of very small badly rolled fags dahling and plenty of blog reading and commenting – especially BlossomCottage. Hoots of laughter.

So after yesterday's manic typing here's a little gem from the chronicles of daughters revenge.

At the time this took place she was four.

Phone rings . . .not being in a position to answer it . . .I sit and listen in growing horror.

The question put to daughter I presume was 'can I speak to your mummy?'

Pause then daughter answers . . .

'No she's in the loo having a poo!' Arrrgggghhhhhh.

Ok that's enough for today – off to fine tune my hoovering. The dogs and I of course levitate across the floor at all times, but all the bits we bring in from the garden don't seem to have mastered the art yet.

And then we had the fire - part 1

2007-05-03T14:29:00.000+02:00

And then we had the fire . . . it is over two years ago now in time, but still short in memory.

January 15th 2005 and I was at the Panto after show party. The shows had gone well and the party was in full swing. Son was there. He had been doing the sound for the Panto. Daughter had been given a lift home. She had been in the audience with friends and friends Dad.

Without any warning the nightmare began. Daughter was there running screaming through the hall 'you've got to come home, you've got to come home.' I kept asking why and she kept saying you've got to come home. WHY? Because the house is on fire. Godawful moment. One I won't forget, followed by a night full of them. Somehow I drove the three miles home – shaking off offers of help – I needed help, but I had to get home and now.

I drove up our track shivering with dread – the night sky lit by an ominous orange glow. I arrived at the end of the track to find three fire engines, hoards of firemen, lights, police, hoses everywhere, people standing around . . organised chaos.

It wasn't our own house that was on fire, but our gorgeous 200 year old Steading. We rented it out as a holiday cottage. Our own cottage was in darkness, no electricity, no phone. Daughter with the help of her friends had got all the animals outside, not knowing how safe our own house was. I was allowed into our house. We got the electricity back on, one phone line still not working, but the other was ok. Together we calmed and got all the animals indoors. Daughter was oddly calm now. I left her sitting on the bonnet of the car her friends and friends dad there to comfort her. She was in a state of shock having found the fire and having had to deal with it and call the fire brigade, but I had to leave her and go and face what was waiting for me.

I walked the dreaded yards to The Steading. Up until the moment I walked around the corner it had been mostly hidden from view - maybe it wasn't happening, maybe it wasn't that bad! What met my eyes was pure horror. I can still remember standing there going 'oh my god', over and over. What had been the downstairs bathroom and sauna was a black hole full of flames, Where the roof had been flames leapt up. Sparks were raining down. The whole of the upstairs had either gone, or was going. The roof had collapsed, both front doors gone and yet incredulously the ground floor two foot thick walls were still standing. One gable end had collapsed and the other was dangerous. Then the fireman were there, running towards me, grabbing me. A lot of them I knew from the Village. 'Are you on your own' one said ? 'Er . . er . . er I'm separated' I blurted out. The fireman smiled kindly, . . .'yes I know that, but is there anyone with you?' And apart from my daughter and her friends there wasn't.

Then my dear friend from the village turned up – I shall call her Angel. She looked after daughter and later picked son up from the party. Oh yes the party was still going on . . . At some point her friends left - I don't remember when.

The fireman asked 'where are your guests?' Another heart stopping moment. The guests cars were there. I looked at The Steading . .if the guests had been in there . . . they were dead. I phoned my estranged husband he was in Dubai working. 'You might want to come back, The Steading is completely ablaze and we may have eight deaths I blurted out.' I can't really remember what he said – I thought he might be cross I had woken him.

Suddenly the guests were there – small stag party – they had been down the pub. My Angel stepped in and organised tea and coffee. She also sorted them out beds for the night. A couple of them got a bit nasty about having to wait to talk to the police. I had no time to worry about how they were feeling.

Later Son arrived back with Angel too upset to even look at The Steading. He said lots of people had offered him a lift home, but he had stayed at the party so that life could go on being normal for just a bit longer. Heart wringing.

Idea! Kids needed something to do. Joined onto our cottage was The Farm House. Very close to The Steading – but pronounced safe. We opened up The Farm House kitchen and I set the kids to work making tea and coffee for the firemen. We dug out biscuits and cakes and made sandwiches. The kids had a great time and it all turned into a bizarre picnic.

I spent the next few hours talking to firemen, the Fire Chief, police, Police chief ours was a big fire. And for all you holiday cottage owners out there, never had I been so glad that I had my landlords gas certificate, boiler certificate, had my chimneys swept and so on. Everything was in order, the fire was unlikely to have been caused by my negligence and this was proved later.

Joined onto The Steading was Jonna's Cottage – another cottage we let out. At one point I went over with the keys thinking the fire men might need it to get in to Jonna's . . .then things got even worse . . . .

PS Apologies for any typos, or any bits that don't make sense I can write this, but am finding it hard to read through.

The Fire Part 2

2007-05-03T14:22:00.000+02:00

I walked towards Jonna's Cottage keys clutched foolishly in hand. 'You might need these' I smiled at the firemen. He looked at me and looked at Jonna's front door. It was all smashed in. The Hall way dark and ominous, part of the wall adjoining The Steading gone. Then I realised there were hoses in Jonna's. They were pumping water up from the lochan. Oh no my fish! What about my fish. What! I was worried that the pump would suck up my fish and throw them into the fire. . . .odd the things you think. I was told the fish would be fine the pump had a filter. At that point I thought it was only the hallway of Jonna's damaged . . . 'we can shut the door to the rest of the house and it will be fine', I told the firemen confidently. Later, when it was safe, (safe at that point it I didn't think my life would ever be safe again) they took me round Jonna's. The fire had got through into the loft and burnt along the entire length of the cottage. Part of the roof was gone. The upstairs double room was fire damaged. The rest of the house was wrecked, but not by fire. I could see even with torchlight that everything was blackened. Water was dripping through the ceiling. The whole house was sodden, I was wading ankle deep in murky water.. No wonder I had got such odd looks from the firemen when I was babbling on saying it would be ok in Jonna's Cottage.

In the early hours of Sunday morning, I walked round to the back of The Steading and burst out laughing. There was no upstairs, nothing, but jutting out into the middle of no-where was the first floor decking. It looked so gigglingly bizarre. The next day I climbed up onto the decking. It was burnt, but there was enough of it left to stand on and look down into the ruins.

The fire it was estimated had started around 8.30pm, but not found until 10.30pm – we live in an isolated spot at the end of the track By three in the morning the fireman started to pack up ready to leave. That was another low point. In an odd way I had felt safe with all the firemen around. For the duration of the night they were my protectors . . . .and yes Milla there was a compensation in having gorgeous firemen surrounding me. Trouble was I knew them all and their wives – cruel or what.

So they left. My Angel stayed the night and most of the next day. We all went to bed around 5.00am, but slept little.

Sunday 16th Jan was spent talking to more police, the fire chief who was so kind, more firemen checking that everything was damped down ok. Husband on his way back.

The phone didn't stop all day with friends ringing up to offer sympathy and support. It transpired the drama club had continued with the party and had decided not come and be with me because they thought they might be in the way. Oh so wrong. I really had needed their support. It took me a long time to get over the feeling of abandonment and resentment.

Then came another low spot. My Angel had gone. It was the evening. Yet another visit by the police. We checked through my insurance policies etc. Everything was so unreal. Then the Policeman – one I knew - asked me if the fire was an insurance job . . . Didn't see that one coming. I was told if there was any suspicion at all I would be taken to Stirling and grilled 'and I mean really grilled' he said. Berludy hell. Could it get any worse. Oh yes!

But it has been a gorgeous day today so I'll keep doom and gloom to a dull roar now.

The fire was investigated thoroughly. It was thought to have started upstairs in the back bedroom and most likely by something left on charge – mobile phone, lap top . . who knows. Our very own forensic expert investigator said that his feeling and that of the police and fire brigade was that the guests knew what had happened, but there was a wall of silence and we would probably never know for sure.

We lost a lot of money through the fire. We were well insured, but not quite in the way we had thought for loss of earnings – another story.

Jonna's was re-built by July 2005. People actually came to stay with us despite the mess. Love them all. The Steading was re-built by June last year. Husband and I now firmly back together had to make the decision that we had no option but to sell. We put our cottage and The Farm House on the market – horrible wrench. We had also decided that if it all went wrong and we got neighbours we couldn't live with we would up sticks and sell the lot. . . . . . .

I'll post the rest this evening . . . . unless you are all bored rigid by now.

The Fire Part three

2007-05-03T14:20:00.000+02:00

Two things stick in my mind on the brighter side of the fire.

My daughter said to friend of mine, who very kindly reported it back to me 'My mum was really amazing the night of the fire.' Sniff, blubber blubber. Guess it isn't cool for teenagers to say things like this direct. In fact it took weeks before daughter would even talk to me about the fire at all and for a while I was really worried about her. Son let in all out one night in a flood of tears. Time heals. In many ways it brought us all closer together.

The second thing was the poor chap in the co-op who, a few days after the fire, turned to me whilst we were queuing and said . . 'cheer up luv it might never happen!' Poor man . . I froze, turned to him and then very quietly said, 'my husband has left me, two thirds of my business has just burned down and wiped out my entire income, I have recently had to have my cat put down and this morning I found my favourite wild/tame rabbit dead . . . so I think we can safely say it has happened, don't you?' He will never ever ever tell anyone to cheer up again. Snigger!

So back to whatever vague plot I ever manage to have in my life - we were going to have to sell up – not looking good. Husband and I by this time firmly back together – although not actually living together yet.

AND THEN . . .

HOORAY . . . enter Lixtroll with Logical Bob – her Dad. They fell totally in love with cottages and the whole magical area. They really 'got' the place.The following day Lixtroll was back with Poo, Lixtroll's husband and no, Milla, we still don't know what sort of creature Poo is, but we have our suspicions.

In short Poo and Lixtroll bought our Cottage and The Farm House – I let The Farm House for them as a holiday cottage.

I moved into the now re-built Steading. Husband and I decided we would never ever let it out again to guests as long as we owned it. Husband still had his flat in Glasgow, but with firm plans to give it up and move back to 'home'.

Our neighbours are wonderful potty potters and multi talented creative people. We all clicked from the moment we met. Lixtroll and I much to the disgust of Poo and my husband spend a lot of time drinking coffee and wine by the lochan, smoking badly rolled grotty little ciggies and talking about the CL site and blogging. Oh yes we were there again this afternoon sharing our chatter with the frogs and the ducks.

Husband and I started living together again in September 2006. He was then made redundant from the BEEB in November 2006. He is now pursuing his career as a professional photographer and home all the time – except when his on photo shoots of course. Things are a bit tight – but we'll manage.

So what was once the second worst night of my life has now turned into the best time of my life.

I still have the legacy from the fire of taking ages to go to bed, or go out – I have to go round and switch off everything electrical and sometimes I feel a bit weird . . I just don't feel 'safe'. But oddly enough I worry less . . . . . . . . what will be will be and right now what 'is' . . is wonderful.

I'm soooo sad!

2007-05-03T14:15:00.000+02:00

Oh dear I am soooo sad. Husband and Son have headed off on a four day trip to climb the three peaks and I am all alone . . . . . ok I'm over it.

Oh the sheer bliss of it all. I can Spring Clean to my hearts content for the next four days knowing that everything I tidy, hoover, dust and organise will stay the same! I can caffeine out, gibber and cackle to myself without fear of the men in white coats. I can watch whatever Soaps I like on TV without a single disapproving glance. I can leave the room without coming back to find the channel changed. I can eat bread and curried beans and f***t without comment, or having to blame it on the dogs. . . . . . yes wheat and I don't get on and curried beans are a disaster, but every now and again . . . I can drink red wine in large glasses and smoke my little roll ups. Yes, yes I know I shouldn't smoke – but for the next four days . . .

I can pop over to my neighbour and share big glasses of wine and binge smoke whilst we natter and watch the frogs in the lochan. We did this yesterday afternoon whilst husband and son were out walking and I felt so guilty that I wasn't cooking dinner – I really need to work on that.

Oh and dear fellow Bloggers I can read, comment and write without having to sneak onto the computer. I am going to be a blatant Blogger and love every second of it.

Don't tell husband but Jack Russell Arnie can sleep in the bed with me and I may even sneak a cuddle on the sofa. Mind you having said that husband actually put Arnie on the sofa with me when Arnie was unwell and on Sunday morning he was allowed up on the bed . . Arnie that is.

So that is it for now – bit of office work to finish. Then quick trip to the village and the Mobile Bank. Co-op here I came cash in hand for curried beans and wine and the week and Spring Cleaning is all mine.

Friday 13th

2007-05-03T14:14:00.000+02:00

Friday the 13th - Hah I spit on you. Ptoooey. You hold no fear for me. I was born on the 13th and with a name like westerwitch and a penchant for running under ladders and shouting 'see, nothing' - how can I be afraid and I had a black cat and I . . .oh never mind. And having just been to the Docs this morning - my ribs are taking forever to heal and I keep 'doing things' and making them worse - and having been told by the Doc I have to rest, hurrah no hoovering, ironing, washing dishes - I LURVE that man - how could today be anything, but a wonderful day for me. Phew I can breath out now - hate writing long sentences cos I have to hold my breath. But I am running out of full stops I am having to conserve them you see. It is because I go . . . . . . . alot - so if anyone has any spare black dots - I would be grateful. Better have some - - - - while you're at it

Oh dear rambling again . . . . . Friday 13th holds no fear, but Thursday 12th now that is a different matter entirely.

To be fair yesterday was a good day, morning and afternoon, by my definition, that is. Apart from a friend dog's pooping in my kitchen. Garn we did larf I tell you.

The evening in comparison went downhill at a rate of something very fast. We had rehearsals for our up and coming shows. Lixtroll had rehearsed my lines with me in the afternoon and I did ok. But in the village hall and on stage, cotton wool invaded brain. Words slid off sideways, sniggering as they left my head. Several of those awful silences when I am thinking smugly – hah, no one speaking, clearly people don't know their lines . . . .and of course that people twas me! So C- for effort and could do better in Drama!

Phew rehearsals over and out to the car park. I put my key in the Jeep car door and it snapped in the lock. Berludy hell and all that. Husband at this point was ten minutes outside the village, coming home from a photo shoot - I phoned him on my mobile - and we agreed he would come and pick me up, back home spare key and so on. I sat in a friend's car and waited and waited and waited and . . . waited hmmmmm. Oh and son turned up too as I was supposed to be giving him a lift home.

Finally husband turns up and the picture of how things should go - me get out of friend's car and get into husband's went all skewwiff. Husband got out of car and then joined by son they proceeded to look at the front of the car. My car that is. The car that husband had borrowed for the day. So I said good bye to my friend and went to look at the front of the car too. Mmmm very ordinary front of car with a WHAT cracked grill and should the bonnet really be that squiggly.

The story unfolded. Husband on the way to the village after talking to me on the mobile (hands free of course) had suddenly been confronted by a very large, well antlered stag, jumping over the stone wall that bordered the narrow road. Brakes I understand where swiftly applied and the car went into screech mode. Although the car slowed right down it still hit the stag. Oh deer (well someone was going to say it - might as well be me). The stag ran away, NOT dragging any broken limbs I am happy to say. The front of the car revealed a few hairs, but no blood. So I sincerely hope that the stag was ok. Husband was of course a bit shaken up and we still had to sort out the key problem. Which we did. But it delayed sitting down for a quiet shake, a chat about 'what if' and of course a big glass of wine.

It did make me think though, as I have thought many times before, that life should be lived with joy for every minute it offers, because we live on a knife edge and things can change in a second. This time husband was ok. But certainly the stags life was not as it was, before it jumped over the wall.

On a lighter note I have an A+ from Bill for answering the wrong exam question. WHAT! Oh no . . boring . . I wanted a D- and to be sent to stand in the corner, where I could mutter darkly and operate my fart machine by the remote control. Bah. Will certainly have to try harder.

Drama Celebrations

2007-05-03T14:12:00.000+02:00

Ow . .ow. . . ow knives in eyes . . I can't wait for the painkillers to kick in so that I can enjoy this revoltingly over-bright Spring morning. I'm too hungover and tired to do any April Fool pranks either. Then again Husband and I met 25 years ago today – now that has got to be the longest April fool in history. Hahaha – you get less for murder - very funny husband . . yawn, never heard that one before. Anyone out there laugh and I shall be painfully disappointed in you.

No the hangover is not the result of victorious celebrations. It is the aftermath of a thorough drowning of sorrows Our valiant little drama club can honestly say that they gave an excellent performance – the adjudication they got bears that out, but we were beaten by a larger club with an amazing performance. Even the title of their play is bigger than ours – Dogsbreath Devereax, The Dastardly Doctor or Nurses Foiled again by Billy St John. They had a cast of 13. We did Happy Jack by Jon Godber, a two hander. I don't think we even have 13 adults in the company at One Act play time, let alone being able to pick 13 of our best actors. The winning play also got Best Production, Best Set and Best Comedy. Now that is just greedy, but very much deserved.

Watching Dogsbreath was exhausting and exhilarating. It is indeed a comedy, done in the style of the old black and white films. The set, costumes and make up were all starkly black and white. Striking in the extreme. The play itself grabbed you by the throat and dragged you laughing and groaning at 100 miles an hour for its 55 minute duration. Our play was much more poignant – being a journey back in time exploring the relationship between a Yorkshire miner and his wife. Our set was a minimal two chairs and a tombstone! The acting in Dogsbreath was excellent, Dogsbreath himself acted with his whole body, a bit reminiscent of John Cleese in Faulty Towers. The whole cast in fact could really act and interacted in a well rehearsed way. Then again so did our cast, yes indeed . .both of them . . so there neah.

It was a great three nights out. Good to see all the other teams too, most of whom we meet year after year. The One Act Play competition starts in March with heats going on all over the UK and culminating in the National Finals in June.

We all go along to fiercely compete, of course we do, but we also go to learn. Each play has a public adjudication and a private adjudication. Plus we all support each other. Our drama club will now support the winning team when they perform in the Scottish Finals at Greenock. The people we beat in the regional finals were there at Cupar supporting us in the divisional finals and so on. Yes it is as supportive as the CL Blog and Chat site – with possibly a smidgeon more drama.

So that is it for the One Act plays as far as the acting goes. No rest for the hungover though. Tonight we are back in rehearsals for our Spring Show and tour, six performances in all. The tour will feature this years One Act Play entry Happy Jack and next years One Act Play competition entry Stalag 69 which I am in. There will also be another short play written by a club member – and a couple of sketches. All I have do know is learn to smoke a pipe, grow a handlebar moustache and talk in a 'Jolly good show chaps' kind of male voice without sounding my r's.

Ok putting this up now – tried to read it through to see if it made sense Edeneising, but I rarely make sense anyway so how would I know? Uh oh lost the will to type now – need coffee.

2007-04-27T10:53:00.000+02:00

LOCKED OUT

2007-04-26T13:22:00.000+02:00

Sorry everyone - we seem to be locked out at the moment - you can still comment on the chat page but not post. You can still blog and comment on each others blogss. Have emailed Google with the problem - can only wait for a response - I am sooooo sorry for all the messing about . . . . Happy Snaper - away on a job and the Janitor has gone to the village. We will work tirelessly until we sort the problem - suggest a prolonged break - lots of tea, coffee and cakes.

A little piece about Poo

2007-04-25T18:05:00.000+02:00

A little piece about poo

Have you ever considered how much poo we actually live in. Oh I don't mean all the poo that is outside and when you think about it cow poo, pig poo, sheep poo and then all the wildlife poo - both on the ground and plopping down from the sky – people with newly cleaned cars can tell you about the stuff from the sky.Yes there is a mind numbing amount of poo just loitering within tent, if you are an unlucky camper that is.. Nor do I mean the sort of indoor poo that Exmoorjane spread around her house, nor the chicken poo I Exmoored around mine. No I mean the carefully and often prettily contained poo, or so we think, in our own unsuspecting bathrooms.

I made the mistake of watching a programme on how dirty our bathrooms really are. Sit on the loo, do and flush, all gone. Wrong. If you leave the toilet lid up minuscule droplets of poo spray six feet all over the bathroom. Ahah – sorted. ( I'm allowed to say sorted I grew up in Essex – yes an Essex girl – get over it) Thwart the poo by putting the loo seat down. Easy. Oh no, not that easy at all the little bacteria laden droplets of poo squirt out the side between the lid and seat. OH MY GOD. And it gets worse. The droplets settle on everything - your face cloth, towels, toothbrush – yuk - everything. Wash and wipe your face and you're covered in poo. Dry yourself – covered in poo. Brush your teeth, yes you've got it good old poo mouth wash. Plus if you are lucky enough to have a cut in the gum the bacteria get in your blood stream and make you really sick.

Read in the loo take the book outside and poo all over the house. Walk innocently from the loo and you transport droplets from the loo carpet/tiles all over the house. Not to mention you have wiped your hands on a poo splashed hand-towel. Oh it goes on forever – we are all sh*t covered peasants living in poo coated hovels. Poo, poo everywhere and never a warning stink.

So why aren't we all dead. Because in a very small nutshell it is normal that's why! We live in a bacteria laden world. We share it with untold trillions of bugs and we all co-exist, for the most part, happily together. It wasn't until we had antibacterial this and disinfectant and antibiotic that , that we started to shift the balance and not live so comfortably in our own world. If the older ones amongst think of how we grew up and the amount of bugs we were exposed to and how we all survived. Then think of now about super bugs and immune systems never given the chance to develop properly. . . . and so on.

I still wish I hadn't seen the programme – it was sensationalism and I bet you are wishing you hadn't read this blog and I bet you keep your toothbrush in a cupboard from now on – I know I do.

Sock Tree

2007-04-25T18:01:00.001+02:00

Whoooosh Zooom. Still in big rush. I have chosen to be horribly selfish and Blog now rather than read the Blogs already up, or the ones I missed yesterday – disgraceful. Have to get the holiday cottage ready now for guests coming in-before we nip off to Cupar again (brilliant night – will Blog it all after its finished) – will sneak Blog reading in-between bathrooms and dusting. I can't hoover husband honestly – ouch – the ribs – giggle.

Leaflet day was brilliant - not too many public, lots of stalls run by people I know. So spent the day quietly listening to people and catching up on news. Of course not I caffeined out big time and gibbered and cackled my way through the entire day and bought a Sock Tree.

Yes that's right a Sock Tree. What! Has no-one here ever bought a Sock Tree. Shocked. Shocked I am. Read on and think the freedom this could bring you. Every year my Father in-law, when asked what he wants for Xmas says socks. Ok yes very exciting mmmm lose the will to shop socks. So fed up with this I went out and bought a - hang on a sec the ticket is in my bag - yes that's it an Abies Koreana Fir. On to this pretty little tree I tied socks - new ones - loads of them. Then for Xmas I gave Mr In-Law the tree. Its a Sock Tree I announced - so don't ever ask me for socks again. Bewildered Daddy in-law apparently wore the socks, but gave me back the tree. The tree came to Scotland and got planted and yeah verily it did well. Then we had a fire - another Blog lost money and had to move - only two doors down mind you – but the sock tree was too big now to transplant and sadly I couldn't find one to replace it. Then yesterday I walked into the village hall all prepared for leaflet day and the first thing I spied was a baby Sock Tree. Kerching, sale made and I am one proud owner of said Sock Tree.

Now for the rest of this cautionary tale - Father-in-law didn't learn. The very next Xmas after the Sock Tree when asked what do you want for Xmas and fixed with a stern stare don't you DARE ask for socks stare, he thought and thought and said 'not a lot.' Arrrgghhhhhh. You can't say that how can I buy not a lot. I fixed you with the sock tree and now you come up with this. Grrrrr. So I found a jigsaw company that made things to order and they made for me a stand up jigsaw that said . . NOT A LOT. The body of the jig saw sat on the shelf with the end bit dangling off . . .no not an accident it was designed that way. And so I gave my parent- in-law Not A Lot for Xmas. And the moral of this tale is . . . I have no idea but I had a lot of fun thwarting poor old daddy-in-law. Hehehehe Can't wait to be a Granny - I am going to be sooooo AWFUL.

Tooooooo busy to blog

2007-04-25T17:57:00.001+02:00

I am in a huge rush – hit the ground running top speed. Got a leaflet day today to sit and get bored at. All us village business type people sit in our local hall and give leaflets out to other people types so that they know what we do – thought they did already. Networking with bits of paper. Or something! Tell you what it is when I've done it

I was also in Cupar last night – four hour round trip from where I live – and am going again tonight and tomorrow night. Why? It is the Divisional Final of the One Act Play Competition of course! Oh yes and our Village has a play in it – went through from the Regional Finals no less. Hard for me this time around as I am not in The One Act Play comp this year – been in them the last seven years, but we are already rehearsing for next years. I play a World War 2 pilot . .no I do really. No really I doooo.

And I've sprained my ribs – well the muscles, you can't sprain bone can you! Think I did it when I was lifting hay and feed over the fence for the sheep. Either that or when I was chatting to the Sky remote control and fell backwards over the dog. Grief I am sooooo tired how the hell am I going to stay awake today and tonight. Lets face not all the plays are good even if they are in the next round. Hope the ribs hold up they are a bit sore. Not allowed to get excited cos it hurts to breath. No jumping around either . . good grief life it going to be boring for a while.

Fabulous day and my god is that the time . . .

Thank you thank you for all your comments on yesterdays blog. Do you know that Wild &Green said I Rocked – how cool is that. Oh maybe they meant I was a rock . . .whatever oh no still got to feed the sheep.

No time to comment on other peoples today . . sob . . no time to read anything . . .sob . . .but I can give it up any time . . . oh yes. Oh yes I can. I can can can so there neah. I am an adult and can cope with life. I won't be caught in the loos blogging, nor behind the bike sheds, nor over the wall. You won't find me there. No I won't rush home later to blog at 1.00 in the morning . . .well I might . . .but whatever I hope you all have a great day.

This is the Mother . . . .

2007-04-25T17:54:00.000+02:00

It has gone, emailed, posted, dispatched. Yes I discovered organisation in a brief, but productive and lucid moment yesterday and sent my assignment off into the ethernet. I even managed to round up all my answers to the case studies. They will go today. I would have done it yesterday,but somehow I had thought it was still Tuesday and the post office shuts on a Wednesday afternoon.

So now in a rare idle moment I am staring at the flowers I got for Mother's day. They are all looking a bit sad now. I am either a) too lazy to throw them away or b) can't bear to throw them away. Bit of both probably. However I have the card that my daughter sent with the flowers - it says – Happy Mother's Day Mum. I appreciate everything you've ever done for me and I'm glad you are my Mummy. The Card from my son is a really flowery emotional card and on it he has written – thank you for everything you have ever done and he gave me a big box of chocolates.

Where on earth did all that come from. Bearing in mind this is the mother who played practical jokes on her kids. Who refused to lose at Monopoly. Who refused to cook for her kids in their teenage years because she was sick of coming up with meals they didn't like. Here I pause to point out I cook by the smoke alarm – when it goes off it signals that whatever I am incinerating is ready. This is the mum who loves animals – well that's ok isn't it – mmmm I thought so to – until the kids said – I suppose we will have to grow fur, or feathers if we want to get your attention. Ouch! Having said that, our daughter is studying Zoology at University so maybe not all bad. Then again our son is studying Robotics . . But all said and done I was really choked on Mother's day. Last year our daughter went on to Ebay and bid for two Furbies for me for Mother's Day – where did my kids get to be so thoughtful. What have I done, or not done to be so lucky.

I was not one of the mother's standing at the school gates on the first day sobbing. I was the one punching the air and shouting 'yes'. Even the empty nest syndrome did not affect me the way I know it has some. I hated going swimming. I sobbed embarrassingly at school plays and wore flashing earrings at Xmas and tinsel in my hair. I have never pushed my kids – although I did nag about homework. They even accused me of letting them do to much. Why forbid them they will only it anyway and at least I was/am around to pick up the pieces. This is the mother who gave them wine and beer – I would rather they learned to drink at home. I also taught them all the swear words and then what they meant – up to them whether or not they chose to use them. Rather they learnt from me than some oik in the playground without knowing what they were saying. When we went in the car we rarely listened to nursery rhymes – it was always Queen. Daughter floored me the other day when we touched on this saying how proud she was of knowing all the words to all the Queen songs. Wow – didn't see that one coming. They both love Rock music and we have even been to Rock concerts together. U2 was amazing. Although I gather they were hard put to cope with the fact I danced all the way through.

Never a patient nurse – sorry about the pun I sometimes struggled with sickness, but some of our closest moments were spent all huddled together when we had the flu. Even daughter said – I suppose you are going to treasure this time aren't you. It was said in a mocking but tender way.

Somewhere down the years I must have done something right. I am still introduced as the embarrassing mother – but do I now detect a note of pride? Thank you kids. Thank you for ringing me with your problems and for looking forward to coming home. Thank you for being there on my birthday and for letting us pick you up from Dundee on Xmas day. Thank you for wanting to be here this Easter and thank you, thank you, thank you for just being you.

Ps Hey Dorta you have snakes, fish and a cat and I don't think you should get rats – but I know you will any way – so I have bought them a cute wooden house – Luv yer Ma.

Talking to the walls

2007-04-25T17:52:00.000+02:00

Well I have only gone and bloomin' well bloomin' bloomin' done it and in a good way for a change. Yes I have finished my third and final assignment for my Stress Management Training Course. Not long now and I shall be released on the unsuspecting and seriously stressed public. Victim selection now in progress. Well yes I still have to check the assignment through and no I haven't actually sent it in quite yet . . .but I will . . soon . . .when I stop blogging . . . yeah yeah tomorrow. And yes I have actually buckled down and done the required 30 hours of reading. 30 Hours – that made my head ache and emptied the coffee pot. Not that I did all the reading at once you understand. Well not until now when I realised I hadn't done enough. Anyway I am now officially feeling really smugly pleased with myself.

Ooops ash on the keyboard – no not fag ash. Fire ash. I've been cleaning out the fire. The new chimney sweep is coming today, all the way from Stirling. We had to find a new chimney sweep, because the old one clearly wasn't going to run out of 'why I can't clean your chimney ' excuses.

And (how daring is that a capital AND at the start of a paragraph) got a phone call this morning from the plumber who, after eight months of nagging. No, no, no, me nagging him . . has finally run out of why I can't test your gas excuses and is coming up on Friday to test the gas appliances in the self catering cottage for our Land Lords certificate. Yes Exmoorjane – eight months. I couldn't get anyone else either – has to be a Corgi registered plumber and they are in short supply up here.

Having had a very serious fire here and having then found out the importance of having all my paperwork in order – chimney swept, boiler serviced, landlords gas certificate – it is not something I would ever neglect. The fire I will save for another blog.

I say that people are coming up here cos we are higher than the village. It can be raining in the village and snowing up here. Well not in the summer of course.

Ok! So now I am feeling brave enough and here is the real reason for today's Blog. Does anyone here other than me talk to the wall, the fire, the kitchen, the bed, the carpet, the dogs . . . thank god for the dogs and the sheep and the chickens. . . . My daughter summed it up really when she said 'for goodness sake Mum, you verbalise everything!' Very brief stunned silence followed. But she is right I do verbalise everything and it isn't a requirement that anyone else is there to listen. It is probably better that they're not. My head gets bizzy and buzzy especially after the morning coffee rush – so I externalise the internal dialogue – which I assume every one has, but after my daughters comment I am not so sure. It isn't usually a problem, but a couple of times going round Sainsbury's I noticed people giving me odd looks . . . . . well ok every time I go round most shops . . .and I have realised I have been externalising my internal dialogue yet again – better known as talking to yourself. Well at least I don't have an imaginary friend with me – no he stays at home. Er that was a joke. So I was just a bit curious as to whether any of you lot do it too. I mean when I had my babies and I was out with out them . . and only once because I had forgotten to take them with me . . . I did used to catch myself standing in shops swaying from side to side. This I know I am not alone in. The fact that I still do it is a little worrying. But the talking to anything . . . now is that normal! Please feel free to lie convincingly.

Good scales day

2007-04-25T17:50:00.000+02:00

Good scales and hair day today (see yesterdays blog), just as well, because other half, whilst out on an assignment photographing a distillery yesterday, had committed the sin of getting a parking ticket – in my car.

Looking at the damn thing took me back to Guildford and when we lived in Holmbury St Mary. The kids plus friend and I had gone to the cinema in Guildford – big treat for us country bumpkins. We parked in a multi-storey car park – not such a big treat. I put money in the pay and display machine to discover I was 15 minutes short of six o'clock - after which time the car park was free. No, surely not – they wouldn't fine me for being short 15 minutes now would they? Specially not in my beaten up old car. Then again might my beaten up old car might offend towny types? The kids in a rush to get to the cinema were dragging me away. Anyway I reasoned the car park was full so chances were no one would spot the time short fall on my ticket.

Two hours later we returned to the multi-storey to find it was almost empty and I had indeed got a parking ticket. I was shocked, stunned, angry . . very angry , flamingly roaringly , blisteringly angry and the kids were full of understanding and sympathy. Like hell they were, they were all doubled up with helpless laughter. I got even more angry then at their lack of understanding and was about to stomp off and find a car park type person to viciously shred when the kids told me to 'look, no mum, REALLY look at the parking ticket.' Little brats it was a fake. A joke shop parking ticket. Then I remembered – the girls had gone running on ahead to the car park. Son for some odd reason wanted to read all the cinema posters on 'coming soon' films on the way back and had dawdled for ages. DING! Berrrrrludy hell they had got me good.

Ahah, but never trick a trickster. I got a letter from our local council photocopied it and wrote to all three children. The letter said something like that now we were in the common market to bring us into line with school holidays in Europe the English School Holidays would be finishing two weeks early this year and they would be expected back at school on the following Monday. I signed it Mr J. oke. Hahahahaha. Got the little blighters. Eventually with tears of motherly concern in my eyes at their distress (no of course not – I couldn't see, or breath properly I was laughing so much) I confessed. They weren't very appreciated of the efforts I had gone to 'get them'. Honestly the youth of today are so ungrateful!

All went quiet. Life continued on. Then I got a letter from our local dog obedience class – where Arnie was enrolled. We were clicker training him. Positive reinforcement with a Jack Russell that is a laugh in itself. The letter said that although Arnie was doing well – he was in fact in bad condition and until his condition improved we were being asked to leave the class.

Being an animal lover and taking the care of my animals very seriously I instantly saw several shades of red in quick succession. Then the tiny reasonable part of my brain kicked in. Mmmmm something not quite right here . . . I read the letter again . . .condition was spelt condishun. Ten out of ten for effort and excellent attention to detail – but minus quite a lot for not spell checking the offending piece. Then again being a model parent I did appreciate the effort the had gone to. They on the other hand didn't speak to me for the rest of the day, because I had rumbled them. Early bird kids, early bird!

Bad Scales Day

2007-04-25T17:49:00.000+02:00

I was almost out the door and on the home run when the nerves ambushed me. This resulted in mutterings of 'too much coffee you see, too early in the morning, empty stomach . . blah . . . . blah . .' and a further three visits to the loo.

Then into the car loosening the seat belt so that it didn't press on my bladder. I spent the journey with my brain zizzzing all over the place (hehehe see LixTroll the spell check doesn't like zizzzing either . . squiggle) . . and going hot and cold – mind you I blame the heated seats in the gas guzzler for that. Pins and needles in the fingers, cold hands, garage stops for the loo. It was all getting seriously out of proportion. No sympathy from strong silent husband type person, or maybe he couldn't get a word in edgeways! I realised after a while there was this incessant irritating gibbering noise in the car and it was me.

All this self inflicted cruelty was because I was on my way to a play-write seminar hosted by the SCDA (Scottish Community Drama Association) and the Playwrights' Studio Scotland.

No I am not a play-write. I am a tentatively, maybe, possibly, perhaps one day aspiring play-write. The seminar was aimed at tentatives like me and up to the real, full blown thing. Cool eh in the same room as real play-writes.

The nerves exploded because I knew we were going off into workshops at some point and it occurred to me that in our groups we would be expected to stand up, say our name and a bit about ourselves. AAAAGGGGHHHH I hate and I mean really hate doing this. As it gets nearer to my turn – every time - the heart starts leaping about. My hands get all clammy, I suspect they suck the moisture from my mouth which has of course gone ash dry. My throat closes up. I get ringing in my ears, I feel dizzy and sick and the instant it is my turn I can't remember my own name or speak coherently. So I end up babbling hesitantly, going red, giggling and sitting down. Whereupon I am faced with sea of sympathetic indulgent faces. B*****r I did it again.

So I got to the Seminar sat through the opening bits and then off into the workshops. Mine hosted by Chris Hannon – a real play-write. Gasp. Oh Gulp. And he didn't, he didn't make us stand up and say our names etc. It was much, much, MUCH worse than that. We got divided into groups – five people to a group and all given the same beginning and end of a fairy story and told to act it out – some groups the beginning and some the end. Mind blowing panic! What is going on? I love acting. I am a member of our local drama club I have been in Panto's, One Act competition plays before adjudicators, even been on tour. I get nervous yes . . but usually I get weeks, sometimes months to hone my nerves. Not this time, not like this, not just dropped on me. Burble Wurble, giggle! The first two groups did their play – good – then we all discussed what we'd seen, what it meant, the meaning of life. I needed the loo. Then that was it. Only two groups out of five got to do their play. I sat for two hours a smouldering, hyperactive, twitching bundle of loo needing nerves and I didn't get to do my piece. What was my reaction to this. I was irrationally disappointed, yes really disappointed. And there was a queue for the loo.

The rest of the Seminar was less exhausting and thoroughly enjoyable and it was done more as open discussion sessions with panels of speakers and question time – no more work shop groups. It was a pleasure to be amongst and chat with writing types. Also at one point I noticed that the walls of our venue were actually padded! From then on I relaxed. I now felt very much at home!

Writer's seminar

2007-04-25T17:48:00.001+02:00

Premonition dream

2007-04-25T17:46:00.001+02:00

Wow this is so cool. Last night I dreamt that I had a hangover and when I woke up this morning I had a hangover! See – witch, premonition dreams. Mmmm more like neighbour, last night, visit, big glasses of wine, binge smoke to compensate for giving up and today, hangover. So this morning I am feeling very sensitive – bad. But I am studying today so can curl up on the sofa with books on being Over sensitive 'n' stuff – good. But the books all have these brilliant white pages with black wiggly stuff on them – very bad. Films and plays and TV news items have to say that they have strobe lighting and flash photography – so books should say they have blinding white pages with black . . . . oh whatever!

The vet phoned early yesterday evening. Apparently Arnie (my Jack Russell – see yesterday's blog) has raised enzymes in his blood which indicates he may have had acute inflammation of the pancreas. I wanted to to tell the vet he was cute too, but the bromide had kicked in and I no longer cared. Arnie is still on antibiotics – I've sold my muzzle on ebay – and yes my much loved pooch is back to normal- licking stones and rocks and yapping at them as he shoves them round the garden. Sassy our Collie is delighted too, because now Arnie is out again she can resume running rings around him and pretending he is a small, but annoying sheep. We do actually have five pet sheep, but she just ignores them altogether.

The day before yesterday myself and husband took our daughter, son and daughter's boyfriend to fulfil the helicopter ride bought for said daughter's boyfriend's 18th birthday, last August. Mmmm yes LAST August. Then again it is hardly likely to be this August is it? Slightly late for the young man's birthday, but we arrived in plenty of time to be thrown out of the airport coffee shop. Brilliant. We spend a fortune on the flight and then get thrown out of a completely empty coffee shop by a male, snooty flying type, older person and why . . all because we were standing and looking through the window and not ordering and drinking coffee. Hubby and I saw the kids off on their flight and then went back to the coffee shop and loudly announced we were now going to drink copious amounts of coffee and get hyper!!!! Slurp slurp . . .then we ate cheese and onion toasties with extra onion and burped 'Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines'. We had to stop when the kid's flight was over – they don't like being embarrassed and I hate being sent to stand in the corner – especially with onion breath.

Three different reactions from flying around in a helicopter. Daughter, not sure, genuine fear of flying – so a huge well done for going up. Boyfriend, well he actually got to fly the helicopter and was given a certificate to prove it – smugly happy person. Son, oh look out! Duck, hyper teenager in erratic orbit. We drove to town so that hyper son could buy a DVD on flight simulation. Alarming noises of crashing and burning have been coming from his bedroom for the last two days – but no dead mouse type smell yet, so I guess he must be ok.

In truth I was actually upset – being an over-sensitive type – when the arrogant, g** . . person in the coffee shop ordered us out. Not even sure why he was there – he seemed to have a desk behind a screen at one end of the coffee shop. How dare he spoil, what for us, was a long awaited special day and what was worse he did it with no regard for how we might feel. So think positive. Let me see. He's a nasty, horrible person and, and, and . . we're not , so there, that'll do! Plus to help make it all right I got a lovely understanding smile and goodbye from the lady serving behind the coffee shop counter when we left . Then again maybe she was glad to see the back of us, but did I catch a hint of her humming Those Magnificent Men under her breath?

First ever blog on the other side

2007-04-25T17:37:00.000+02:00

Uh oh - I am a new blogger and would like to enter the competition.

Mmmm - another blogger coming out the woodwork at the scent of a competition. I am wondering how that makes the regular CL bloggers feel.

So I am writing this with trepidation, I do feel as though I am trespassing. People 'on here' already seem to know each other and I feel very much like the new girl. Good grief not again . . . I hate being the new girl - well more woman now. . . . er much older woman . . as my slim, tall, very attractive 19 year old daughter would delightedly point out. Grief even her hair is gorgeous - why is nature so cruel - I age, she blossoms. Then again I have romped through the menopause and she has years of PMS ahead of her. I have agreed to pay for her therapy for surviving her childhood with me, but I am only coughing up for a year. I don't want her to become too normal she might realise that I am even more nuts than she already thinks I am.

I live in a delightful village in Scotland. Delightful that is on the surface - dig a little and then is when it starts to get really interesting.

Two hundred years ago I would have been burned as a witch. Nowadays I advertise in the village bi-monthly magazine as a reflexologist. It is certainly a lovely way to meet people. Although I am not entirely sure that my village is completely ready for alternative therapies. Then again I can claim satisfied customers. One lady rushed up to me in the middle of the street, following a reflexology treatment the day before, threw her arms around me yelling 'thank you, thank you, you've cured my constipation' . . . . So that was confidentiality out the window then. Another lady has also credited me with helping her and her husband get pregnant. Good grief that could really scramble the gossips.

My witch status was finally established when I did talk on Reflexology for our local Women's Institute. Now there is a scary bunch for you. I did the talk as a demonstration. I couldn't face standing up in front of all these wonderful ladies - that would have meant looking at them and they did and do intimidate me so and I knew I would end up gibbering. So I sat with my back to them and talked them through my 'volunteers' feet. I talked about the cold she had, chest problems, stomach problems . . . slight irritable bowel and oh look an underactive thyroid. I also got rid of her headache. The room went quieter and quieter. Then a voice said 'oh yes and the broom stick is parked out side.'
I replied 'its brand new so hands off.' Another voice said 'oh we think you're a good witch.' I got tea and cakes at the end and sat at the 'top table'. I never did find out who had voiced the witch opinion. It has never been discussed. Happily in the last eight years there hasn't been a stake, or bonfire in sight.

Now I am studying to become a Stress Management Therapist - I hope it doesn't damage my reputation. Meanwhile I have a pile of reading on stressed nervous systems, how to become more assertive, how to allow your sensitivity to work for you and so on. I have to be on top of my reading and written my third and final assignment by Friday week - so panic on. Stressed, that's me and not a magic wand to be found anywhere and now I have started blogging.

Welcome

2007-04-21T09:18:00.000+02:00

Hi there

Well I have done it - I have got my own little room off the assembley room where I can blog away happily. We can now all have our own blogs, visit each other and chat together on the purplecoo page - any ptoblems email Westerwitch gill@westerlix.net or Lixtroll at Heather@thebottomofthegarden.co.uk

Whoop berludy whoop

Westerwitch