i haven't written for a long time. i suppose i got fed up with the agony of life mixed with my attempt to render it explainable. the most mundane thing was the agony consisted of a series of domestic miseries and discontents. it moaned it groaned it carried the weight of life squarely on its shoulders.
this has been a hugely horrible year. a horrible anus of a year as the queen said, or something to that effect.
here i sit at an old pc (not the laptop i dream to get soon) with the customary glass of white wine and ice at my fingertips. in the distance i hear wails of pain or pleasure of the children playing. i still live in anticipation of a wail here or there from a teased 23 month old, a five year old or a seven year old or a cross low grumble from my ever growing taller fourteen year old. not to mention the intolerant wails of the significant other who from the way he acts, must come from a different planet to women and children.
this has been our first Christmas in a earthly world that consists not of my sister - mother of the seven year old- who died in February. rather suddenly though having battled a very short year and a half against voldemort leukemia. how strange it still is to realize her absence and pass each day knowing she has gone. no amount of pain or suffering, tears or obstinate anger can bring her back to me or anyone least of all her little son.
this Christmas was the first i felt absolutely no tingle of Christmas. it was all practicalities which suited me fine. presents and stockings and elderly relatives and shopping lists. but twinkling fairy lights couldn't even raise a glimmer of innocent anticipation. i am ready to take the Christmas things down.
i am not sure about new year. i have nothing planned for tomorrow night. it will be no different to any other.
here is to a new year again and the grief of understanding that nearly a year has passed since she was taken away may start to settle like sediment in the brain. i hope to move forward and make something of my life. the bills need to be paid for a start. but i am not wholly sure how bright it will be, if i can cut out drinking or start to see a brighter day.
god rest her beautiful soul.
Sunday, 30 December 2012
Sunday, 11 November 2012
punishment stew and scrambled blog
my duties at home: care of children aged one, five and fourteen- includes negotiating problems as they arise, calming irrational behaviors, educating on how to approach problems as and when they arise.
finding activities for them to do, toys to play with. assisting/ encouraging.. homework.
negotiating ructions between them and father of house-quick to anger difficult to subside.
tidying continual mess of toys, snacks, shoes, clothes, banana wrappers, mugs left in bathrooms, school clothes tossed asunder....wet towels on floor...empty loo roll tubes....books moved and dumped.... toys everywhere underfoot, tiny Lego type pieces everywhere...
repeated reiteration of tidying up, replacing, putting away duties...
daily laundry of clothes for work, school and play- sorting, washing and drying and folding and putting away (rarely ironing if i can help it).
weekly food planning- is there anything else to eat except what we eat all the time?
shopping for food and household items.
cooking from scratch.
washing up, putting away, hoovering, cleaning kitchen floor regularly.
most recently, emptying and redecorating their rooms in snatched times when baby asleep.
decluttering and managing household waste.
daily outings for one year old.
also extra curricular- caring for an elderly aunt once a week- shopping/ form filling, tidying etc...
and a few other bits plus other stuff i don't feel like sharing cause it will taker to long (helping another person declutter-paid work!! and practice of therapy i am trained in until i can afford to become insured, supplement my qualification with further courses and earn money from it...)
the emotional fallout of all of the above is surrounding me like ashy remains of a nuclear bomb.
so due to lack of money and companionship in the life i live i am going to make the next week's diet surround the theme of chick peas.
you see, i just sat at the PC and completed three different online shopping journeys around three different stores- asda,, tesco and waitrose to see which was the cheapest. having printed up some recipes from the internet i gathered together my ingredients for things to make like Jamie Oliver's modern Greek salad, j/o spinach chickpea and feta parcels, chorizo and chick pea stew, aubergine parmigiana,spinach and chick pea curry with sweet potatoes, squash and ricotta bake and j/o green tea salmon, coconut rice and miso greens and then maybe a chicken roast.....plus extra bits and bobs you need like loo roll and washing powder the shop ranged from about 50 quid to about 80 quid for the different shops- plus you get money off for doing your first online shop,,, blahdy blah...
anyway, i felt my taste buds prickle and i felt a hint of interest at the idea of cooking next week.
the last few days we have lived off chick pea varieties and i made a lovely spinach and tomato lasagne the other day. i joked to my mum that we don't like chickpeas and i am secretly punishing my family with them and other vegetablely things generally.
you see, yesterday i felt the only way to punish my family for agonizing me was to dole up punishment stew- chickpeas with everything.
then today i sat down and experimented with the online shopping experience.
having compiled my list, the man i live with said,
rather than getting all this stuff why don't we get a bit of beef
i don't know why, i don't know if i am being irrational, but this felt like a concrete slab falling on my energy. (the irony being that is so sweet and a desperate reach out for a good plate of food it nearly brings tears to my eyes)
i am tired. i have mountains of laundry still to do and i have to think about what to cook for my family who to be crude will simply shit it all out anyway. ew.
people say that nature is indifferent to human suffering, yes, well my family seem indifferent to my human suffering. i feel i work my metaphorical fingers to the bone and yet the lions my family are just seem to fight over my fallen body and tear bits of my exhausted limbs.
any reader out there who has has not gone away due to my lamentations, please forgive my dreadful imagery and outpourings of self pity!!!!!.
anyway i am now planning to buy lots of chick peas.
he can go get his beef.
i can't be arsed to think about what they can all eat and will probably resort to the usual food born out of depression-
fish fingers and chips and beans.
Shepard's pie-yawn
spaghetti bolocksnase - so done
and lots and lots of chickpeas.
finding activities for them to do, toys to play with. assisting/ encouraging.. homework.
negotiating ructions between them and father of house-quick to anger difficult to subside.
tidying continual mess of toys, snacks, shoes, clothes, banana wrappers, mugs left in bathrooms, school clothes tossed asunder....wet towels on floor...empty loo roll tubes....books moved and dumped.... toys everywhere underfoot, tiny Lego type pieces everywhere...
repeated reiteration of tidying up, replacing, putting away duties...
daily laundry of clothes for work, school and play- sorting, washing and drying and folding and putting away (rarely ironing if i can help it).
weekly food planning- is there anything else to eat except what we eat all the time?
shopping for food and household items.
cooking from scratch.
washing up, putting away, hoovering, cleaning kitchen floor regularly.
most recently, emptying and redecorating their rooms in snatched times when baby asleep.
decluttering and managing household waste.
daily outings for one year old.
also extra curricular- caring for an elderly aunt once a week- shopping/ form filling, tidying etc...
and a few other bits plus other stuff i don't feel like sharing cause it will taker to long (helping another person declutter-paid work!! and practice of therapy i am trained in until i can afford to become insured, supplement my qualification with further courses and earn money from it...)
the emotional fallout of all of the above is surrounding me like ashy remains of a nuclear bomb.
so due to lack of money and companionship in the life i live i am going to make the next week's diet surround the theme of chick peas.
you see, i just sat at the PC and completed three different online shopping journeys around three different stores- asda,, tesco and waitrose to see which was the cheapest. having printed up some recipes from the internet i gathered together my ingredients for things to make like Jamie Oliver's modern Greek salad, j/o spinach chickpea and feta parcels, chorizo and chick pea stew, aubergine parmigiana,spinach and chick pea curry with sweet potatoes, squash and ricotta bake and j/o green tea salmon, coconut rice and miso greens and then maybe a chicken roast.....plus extra bits and bobs you need like loo roll and washing powder the shop ranged from about 50 quid to about 80 quid for the different shops- plus you get money off for doing your first online shop,,, blahdy blah...
anyway, i felt my taste buds prickle and i felt a hint of interest at the idea of cooking next week.
the last few days we have lived off chick pea varieties and i made a lovely spinach and tomato lasagne the other day. i joked to my mum that we don't like chickpeas and i am secretly punishing my family with them and other vegetablely things generally.
you see, yesterday i felt the only way to punish my family for agonizing me was to dole up punishment stew- chickpeas with everything.
then today i sat down and experimented with the online shopping experience.
having compiled my list, the man i live with said,
rather than getting all this stuff why don't we get a bit of beef
i don't know why, i don't know if i am being irrational, but this felt like a concrete slab falling on my energy. (the irony being that is so sweet and a desperate reach out for a good plate of food it nearly brings tears to my eyes)
i am tired. i have mountains of laundry still to do and i have to think about what to cook for my family who to be crude will simply shit it all out anyway. ew.
people say that nature is indifferent to human suffering, yes, well my family seem indifferent to my human suffering. i feel i work my metaphorical fingers to the bone and yet the lions my family are just seem to fight over my fallen body and tear bits of my exhausted limbs.
any reader out there who has has not gone away due to my lamentations, please forgive my dreadful imagery and outpourings of self pity!!!!!.
anyway i am now planning to buy lots of chick peas.
he can go get his beef.
i can't be arsed to think about what they can all eat and will probably resort to the usual food born out of depression-
fish fingers and chips and beans.
Shepard's pie-yawn
spaghetti bolocksnase - so done
and lots and lots of chickpeas.
Tuesday, 6 November 2012
clutterbugs
i have been enlisted and employed to help someone declutter on a mega scale which is quite funny as i struggle myself though mostly due to a lack of space - especially storage space. i am very into decluttering and removing baggage that we hold on to because it does contain clogged up and messed up energy and we should not have it. that said, i am surrounded now by clutter and my shelves are messy and unclear, but in time i will sort that....
anyway, this woman has a definite issue with hoarding and just spending five minutes with her as she reluctantly threw away some leaflets and receipts on the utter surface of the mountain of clutter filled me with a misery, realizing that this person who comes across so well balanced has in fact some mega problems with letting things go to the point where you cannot enter a room for the hoard. it was like this professional woman suddenly turned into a small helpless child when confronted with a surmountable problem. i felt my positive energy zapped as i suggested getting rid of a pile of old newspapers and was told she was not ready. and she wants to get the room cleared by Christmas....it is like something from the hoarder programs; the room ranges from knee high to neck high clutter and is only just accessible.
i agreed to a once a week meeting (will take forever!) and i am now researching the best approaches to subliminally helping someone let go of material shit that they really do not need, yet think they want. i am into basic feng shui and am reading a great little book on it. and i may take some photos and see if we progress which may be difficult because she came over all funny and shaky after i tentatively but calmly picked up small paper item after item saying..... how about this? this looks out of date.
the art i think, is respecting that persons right to gather things but trying then to somehow loosen their hold on it and help them gain the courage to part with what feel like significant items..... but the slowness of this is difficult for someone like me who likes action.
ultimately i aim to develop my skills of therapy and positive life enhancement and i will see if i can find any techniques to empower this person to shake off their self harming of hoarding every single bit of crap that comes their way and helping them to keep only that which enhances their life journey. my fear is that in my consideration i may end up agreeing they need every last little thing they have accrued because i don't like to step on psychological toes. but i will try.
wow, oprah eat your heart out!
anyway, this woman has a definite issue with hoarding and just spending five minutes with her as she reluctantly threw away some leaflets and receipts on the utter surface of the mountain of clutter filled me with a misery, realizing that this person who comes across so well balanced has in fact some mega problems with letting things go to the point where you cannot enter a room for the hoard. it was like this professional woman suddenly turned into a small helpless child when confronted with a surmountable problem. i felt my positive energy zapped as i suggested getting rid of a pile of old newspapers and was told she was not ready. and she wants to get the room cleared by Christmas....it is like something from the hoarder programs; the room ranges from knee high to neck high clutter and is only just accessible.
i agreed to a once a week meeting (will take forever!) and i am now researching the best approaches to subliminally helping someone let go of material shit that they really do not need, yet think they want. i am into basic feng shui and am reading a great little book on it. and i may take some photos and see if we progress which may be difficult because she came over all funny and shaky after i tentatively but calmly picked up small paper item after item saying..... how about this? this looks out of date.
the art i think, is respecting that persons right to gather things but trying then to somehow loosen their hold on it and help them gain the courage to part with what feel like significant items..... but the slowness of this is difficult for someone like me who likes action.
ultimately i aim to develop my skills of therapy and positive life enhancement and i will see if i can find any techniques to empower this person to shake off their self harming of hoarding every single bit of crap that comes their way and helping them to keep only that which enhances their life journey. my fear is that in my consideration i may end up agreeing they need every last little thing they have accrued because i don't like to step on psychological toes. but i will try.
wow, oprah eat your heart out!
erm
i can't really write freely because i think my boyf and son nosey onto my blog sometimes but still i will just say, times feel tough. and sometimes a woman needs love. yesterday a lovely man in a very understated way, as we discussed our ages, told me i look young and beautiful ( i am nearly 35) and i wanted to marry him theoretically- it is that easy boys. i sang some songs with my brothers accompanying me on piano and guitar and i felt so good and appreciated , then when i went home to my regular misery i felt old and haggard and tired. why is it that the man you chose to love doesn't say those things to you? why is it in the winter that things get even harder. i miss my therapist. he'd understand!
Monday, 5 November 2012
winter moods
i think there is a pattern that it has taken so long for me to see, that winter can bring with it domestic misery. i think i may be OK generally regarding this, but i have noticed my 'other half' gets quite wretched during this current time. the tension in my home and the arguments and nagging that begins seems to be married with the cold and the dark and the bills and the winter generally.
it actually hurts my very nervous system
it actually hurts my very nervous system
Monday, 29 October 2012
dreary time
i don't like these dark evenings when the windows turn black by 5 pm and the day seems to draw to a close sooner. i have just opened a bottle of wine which is way to early and have sipped on a minute glass hoping that i won't keep filling it up although i suppose i could go to bed at 8 and be done with it. these dark evenings fill me with a gloom that i didn't have as a child. it would then beckon exitefully the coming of Halloween and bonfire night and suggest the twinkling lights of a not to distant Christmas. it would mean comforting suppers and cosy nights in and the bright television screen and family. now it seems to feel claustrophobic and doomlike and the night sits before me like a unmoving black lake with no bottom.
maybe i am thoroughly depressed... although i don't know if i am or not anymore as i never really feel happy so to speak. i mean i am pretty down right now in light of many things and my sister's death comes back to haunt me in a peculiar way, her absence still as sudden and unreasonable as it was when she was taken from us back in February. that sits like a backdrop to my thoughts and feelings, the loss of her and how as the season seems to change once again, she still remains silenced while all about the places that she used to walk, people still walk and yet she is no longer there.
though i don't wish to be morose and blame my low mood on the passing of her, it is difficult to separate now and then. the me that had her and the me that doesn't.
i still have all the same problems of lack of opportunity, crappy attitude to life, hardly any money, and i don't want to continue in these mindsets excusing it because of my grief. but it sits there behind the railings of my consciousness, in the next room, on the other lane of traffic...it sits there like a silent grave being rained upon and offering no word of comfort or explanation. just silently continuing as it will do until the day i die.
maybe i am thoroughly depressed... although i don't know if i am or not anymore as i never really feel happy so to speak. i mean i am pretty down right now in light of many things and my sister's death comes back to haunt me in a peculiar way, her absence still as sudden and unreasonable as it was when she was taken from us back in February. that sits like a backdrop to my thoughts and feelings, the loss of her and how as the season seems to change once again, she still remains silenced while all about the places that she used to walk, people still walk and yet she is no longer there.
though i don't wish to be morose and blame my low mood on the passing of her, it is difficult to separate now and then. the me that had her and the me that doesn't.
i still have all the same problems of lack of opportunity, crappy attitude to life, hardly any money, and i don't want to continue in these mindsets excusing it because of my grief. but it sits there behind the railings of my consciousness, in the next room, on the other lane of traffic...it sits there like a silent grave being rained upon and offering no word of comfort or explanation. just silently continuing as it will do until the day i die.
Sunday, 28 October 2012
this is your life
woke up this morning not wanting to get out of bed. wanted to stay there wrapped up in the snugly duvet and not get up. not do anything. every weekend i have a sort of mini crisis, like it is a day of reckoning every Saturday and i am faced with children and a lack of enthusiasm to get out and do stuff...usually money based. it is really difficult to be enthusiastic when you don't have any pennies. even a trip to the park seems like a long winding road of torment.
anyway, i just need to gripe really. i sometimes find my life like a sustained line of unchanging difficulty. i rarely get a chance to remove myself from children and if i do then some unruliness ensues or shouting arguing esp if signifci is home he has little tolerance of children's behaviour. i know this is a fleeting period of time in the long run of things and i know i may long for these days one day but it is the relentlessness of it and the feeling it won't change and that i can't just bail out.
it is helpful writing this down because it makes me aware of my ability to complain and hear it. i suppose i am just moaning.
well. i will just go carry on.
today is Sunday and it is a bit different in that the kids are on half term so the feeling of needing to use the day effectively is less impending. tomorrow i suppose is another Saturday. in fact tomorrow i am planning to take them to the science museum- really early because i don't like lunch time crowds. but my brother who works there says half term is busy whatever time of day.
actually, yesterday against all my less than better inclinations, i took them to the horniman museum and i am so glad i did. there i saw all the families who get off their butts and try to culturise their children.
anyway, i just need to gripe really. i sometimes find my life like a sustained line of unchanging difficulty. i rarely get a chance to remove myself from children and if i do then some unruliness ensues or shouting arguing esp if signifci is home he has little tolerance of children's behaviour. i know this is a fleeting period of time in the long run of things and i know i may long for these days one day but it is the relentlessness of it and the feeling it won't change and that i can't just bail out.
it is helpful writing this down because it makes me aware of my ability to complain and hear it. i suppose i am just moaning.
well. i will just go carry on.
Thursday, 25 October 2012
losing the plot
or point of writing this anymore. it has sort of served me as a useful diary but i have not been writing regularly and it has sometimes been about just being a blog which is fairly self reflective and just eats itself up.
lots of things have occurred for me lately yet i have not felt like blogging.
now for some reason in a itchy, irritable kind of state i suppose i need some screen time. perhaps that is all this is, an occasional addiction to the pc and virtual world of the web.
i feel weird, sort of wanting.... almost like i need a drink, but i don't want a drink.
i am at home and ploughing through laundry that is days clean and dry just not yet filed away.
well i won't go on about nothing much at all as my small son has toddled to my side and is demanding my attention.
lots of things have occurred for me lately yet i have not felt like blogging.
now for some reason in a itchy, irritable kind of state i suppose i need some screen time. perhaps that is all this is, an occasional addiction to the pc and virtual world of the web.
i feel weird, sort of wanting.... almost like i need a drink, but i don't want a drink.
i am at home and ploughing through laundry that is days clean and dry just not yet filed away.
well i won't go on about nothing much at all as my small son has toddled to my side and is demanding my attention.
Thursday, 18 October 2012
S A D ?
i have an low that sits beneath the top of the skull and emanates from the base of the sternum. it has no actual
basis in words or thought but has echoes of a guilty feeling, like when you feel you have said too much when in a jovial mood or drunk and the days after you feel ashamed or just like you have said too much.
it probably has a little root that i cannot see and its massive trunk is full of thoughts i cannot distinguish or separate. off it, i imagine, grow branches of contrition and sadness again in a mass though firm and strong.
i wonder if it is sad.
basis in words or thought but has echoes of a guilty feeling, like when you feel you have said too much when in a jovial mood or drunk and the days after you feel ashamed or just like you have said too much.
it probably has a little root that i cannot see and its massive trunk is full of thoughts i cannot distinguish or separate. off it, i imagine, grow branches of contrition and sadness again in a mass though firm and strong.
i wonder if it is sad.
Tuesday, 9 October 2012
Not drinking
Last night I managed to only drink 2 pints lager over about 2 hours 5 till 7 ish which I don't really class as effective drinking as there was no intoxication. Then I drank 2 cans of diet Pepsi after taking a piriton (wild). It was an incredibly slow moving gut wrenchingly boring eve but I got to bed around 9 45 then read a bit then went to sleep. This morning I woke up around 7 and felt remarkably tired, but gloriously I also felt clear headed and organised. Him indoors was off work today so took daughter to school and I met a friend for coffee at 9 before meeting another for toddler group and lunch. I go to the salvation army baby group in deptford where they do a plate of grub for £2.50 and 50p for baby lunch. That all finished at 12.30 and now I am back home. Little one is asleep, and I have stuff to do namely house stuff, but I feel quite restless and a bit bored again and wanting for something. Sounds dreadfully dull but I may throw myself into housework as I feel really clear when the house I'd clear and there is still loads of shit I need to tackle before I think the doors of my new life will open, by which I mean, I have this weird feeling I need to 'get my house in order' and that when I am all done the opportunities will flood in.
I have one section which I do not go near full of note books and school books and photos and memories and diaries and loads of emotional paper clutter that I have barely touched for three years. A some point I will sort it, it is like the fial frontier, that and under the stairs.
Also I need to create a space for a pc computer for me- I'd rather a laptop, but till then a fat pc. I need one of my own in my own space to be my office where I can grow ideas.
Tonight I aim not to drink at all, I may have to get on the piriton early to sedate me slightly, but I want to find myself again, and incessant drinking is taking me further and further aaa from myself.
I am also keeping a mood diary to tap into my moods and work out why I am on a treadmill of life, going round and round but not going anywhere!
Here's to sobriety and to what it may uncover!
Although, not sure how long it will last given that family life involving man, teenage boy, little girl and toddler can be trying at times.
So long.
I have one section which I do not go near full of note books and school books and photos and memories and diaries and loads of emotional paper clutter that I have barely touched for three years. A some point I will sort it, it is like the fial frontier, that and under the stairs.
Also I need to create a space for a pc computer for me- I'd rather a laptop, but till then a fat pc. I need one of my own in my own space to be my office where I can grow ideas.
Tonight I aim not to drink at all, I may have to get on the piriton early to sedate me slightly, but I want to find myself again, and incessant drinking is taking me further and further aaa from myself.
I am also keeping a mood diary to tap into my moods and work out why I am on a treadmill of life, going round and round but not going anywhere!
Here's to sobriety and to what it may uncover!
Although, not sure how long it will last given that family life involving man, teenage boy, little girl and toddler can be trying at times.
So long.
Monday, 8 October 2012
No inspiration
I have felt no desire to write of late. Things are all pretty much a muchness. Things are all pretty much the same. I have been attempting not to drink everyday and as I do I feel like an alcoholic. I am actually not , but my desire to not drink in the evening is quite challenging. I have taken to drinking diet coke and taking a piriton tablet to help me feel drowsy. Except it is not working today and I am on my second pint of beer of the evening. After this I will do the diet coke thing. There is no point doing it too early as I don't wanna be drowsy till bedtime.
I am basically utterly bored bored bored and that is prob why I drink, to hide the boredom from myself.
I don't feel like reading and I can't watch tv cause he is watching darts (boring). I can't go to bed as it is too early. This is probably the last resort.
I feel like nothing is happening at the moment. I don't have much money so I cannot engineer stuff. I can't buy stuff. Everything is just dull and Sort of staid. I wonder if this is just a passing thing or if it will be my life forever. I did think the other day, that life is what you make it, there are no rewards for good behaviour, patience or self deprivation. It occurred to me, that if I don't brighten up my life and do some stuff that I want to do, then that is that. Time waits for no one.
My son has just passed by and said he reads it anyway, when I sought to hide the type from him. Well in that case, I may as well mention that it is very difficult not having surplus piles of income to spend on fun things. His friends apparently have new bbguns and games and hundreds spent on them while I barely have two pennies to rub together for warmth.
Anyway after this second beer I will have a boring diet coke and take a piriton and then go to bed. I hope things get better.
I am basically utterly bored bored bored and that is prob why I drink, to hide the boredom from myself.
I don't feel like reading and I can't watch tv cause he is watching darts (boring). I can't go to bed as it is too early. This is probably the last resort.
I feel like nothing is happening at the moment. I don't have much money so I cannot engineer stuff. I can't buy stuff. Everything is just dull and Sort of staid. I wonder if this is just a passing thing or if it will be my life forever. I did think the other day, that life is what you make it, there are no rewards for good behaviour, patience or self deprivation. It occurred to me, that if I don't brighten up my life and do some stuff that I want to do, then that is that. Time waits for no one.
My son has just passed by and said he reads it anyway, when I sought to hide the type from him. Well in that case, I may as well mention that it is very difficult not having surplus piles of income to spend on fun things. His friends apparently have new bbguns and games and hundreds spent on them while I barely have two pennies to rub together for warmth.
Anyway after this second beer I will have a boring diet coke and take a piriton and then go to bed. I hope things get better.
Saturday, 29 September 2012
bullshit bills
just read my last post and i think i was rather drunken when i wrote it.
sat morning at the end of the month is a hateful time for me because my account gets raided by locust direct debits and leave me feeling jaded and pissed off.
the woman who runs a ferret rescue and keeps telling me she has a sodding ferret we can have has let me down again. i don't actually even have a liking for ferrets, but my fourteen year old son persuaded me to buy him one some months ago. we have seen that the poor little nippy and ratty creature is lonely so i am trying to get him a playmate but every time this sodding woman says she has one she then retracts it the next day. i am starting to think she must have hit the bottle when i phone her after 7pm, as she specifies to call, as she is warm and full of advice and enthusiasm about giving us -for a donation a ferret, then the next day she must wake up in a cold sweat and text me that it is ill and she can't re home it. what a load of tosh, she had told me it was fine. blah blah blah.
anyway since things are tight and difficult- money wise- i am up shit canal with no oars or something alike that.
however, i am still planning on taking an excursion this eve with some lovely new friends to an arty farty thing in shoreditch under some tunnels??
i am planning to keep it not late, and to not drink copiously and to get back early and not spend a lot, since i do not have a lot to spend.
i don't go to shoreditch ever, though i know it is very hip and arty and trendy, and i look forward to buying a nice cold bottle of beer at some point later and seeing something invigorating and to be creatively energized since i am a walking artistic block.
sat morning at the end of the month is a hateful time for me because my account gets raided by locust direct debits and leave me feeling jaded and pissed off.
the woman who runs a ferret rescue and keeps telling me she has a sodding ferret we can have has let me down again. i don't actually even have a liking for ferrets, but my fourteen year old son persuaded me to buy him one some months ago. we have seen that the poor little nippy and ratty creature is lonely so i am trying to get him a playmate but every time this sodding woman says she has one she then retracts it the next day. i am starting to think she must have hit the bottle when i phone her after 7pm, as she specifies to call, as she is warm and full of advice and enthusiasm about giving us -for a donation a ferret, then the next day she must wake up in a cold sweat and text me that it is ill and she can't re home it. what a load of tosh, she had told me it was fine. blah blah blah.
anyway since things are tight and difficult- money wise- i am up shit canal with no oars or something alike that.
however, i am still planning on taking an excursion this eve with some lovely new friends to an arty farty thing in shoreditch under some tunnels??
i am planning to keep it not late, and to not drink copiously and to get back early and not spend a lot, since i do not have a lot to spend.
i don't go to shoreditch ever, though i know it is very hip and arty and trendy, and i look forward to buying a nice cold bottle of beer at some point later and seeing something invigorating and to be creatively energized since i am a walking artistic block.
Thursday, 27 September 2012
It is Thursday night and I am watching come dine with me partially and sinking a bottle of dry white wine since it was quite sunny today. Kids Are asleep for now and big son is in Montpellier since Monday and is back to tomorrow.
I am getting him a second ferret on sat since his is very lonely.
What have I done this week?
Well, Monday I took son to school for 8 am to go to France, then daughter to school then home for lazy ay as was feeling very I'll with sore throat then I picked up daugher and her friend who came over till 6 pm. Tuesday I did some cleaning for someone and then picked up daughter. Wednesday I took baby to a baby group and then did some house work and then ran up the hillto pick up daughter and friend again.
Today I took old aunt in law to the docs and to a cremation. Then I picked up daugher and Madedinner. Tomorrow I will meet friend for coffee then Prepare For son returning home from France.
Utterly bored now so will stop borng any readers,
Good night xxx
I am getting him a second ferret on sat since his is very lonely.
What have I done this week?
Well, Monday I took son to school for 8 am to go to France, then daughter to school then home for lazy ay as was feeling very I'll with sore throat then I picked up daugher and her friend who came over till 6 pm. Tuesday I did some cleaning for someone and then picked up daughter. Wednesday I took baby to a baby group and then did some house work and then ran up the hillto pick up daughter and friend again.
Today I took old aunt in law to the docs and to a cremation. Then I picked up daugher and Madedinner. Tomorrow I will meet friend for coffee then Prepare For son returning home from France.
Utterly bored now so will stop borng any readers,
Good night xxx
Sunday, 16 September 2012
a year ago
or so my little sister went off to university and my big sister was one year into being treated for leukaemia. i started to do this blog because sadly, i have an eternal capacity to think everything that is happening, or to need to share it, to spill it. i thought that eventually it would metamorph into an ability to write stories or a novel or something. i lament this has not occured.
off my little sister has gone for her second year; and she like me and my entire family are changed people, matured by the hard and cruel reality of life that doesn't spare you even when you thought you were somehow exempt from it's darker arrows.
that sweet eldest sister who was one year in to a hateful illness is no longer with us and our big sister, big sister to eight of us siblings left behind has gone. we are all in our twenties and thirties now but the loss of her feels like she has been ripped out of the bedroom we used to share as children when we would play games like cowbank and libraries - memories only she and i share-
memories of all our fights and squabbles, hopes and dreams.
death is like a silent invisible thief. it steals you away from under the loving hands that try to keep you here.
i am going to go to the graveyard today and water the plants.
as a big sister she was unique and made you laugh and chuckle. she had a wise approach to life and was very reassuring and encouraging.
my children (including her little one) are all arguing loudly so i can't focus.
next time.
and i love you forever sis and i always will.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
off my little sister has gone for her second year; and she like me and my entire family are changed people, matured by the hard and cruel reality of life that doesn't spare you even when you thought you were somehow exempt from it's darker arrows.
that sweet eldest sister who was one year in to a hateful illness is no longer with us and our big sister, big sister to eight of us siblings left behind has gone. we are all in our twenties and thirties now but the loss of her feels like she has been ripped out of the bedroom we used to share as children when we would play games like cowbank and libraries - memories only she and i share-
memories of all our fights and squabbles, hopes and dreams.
death is like a silent invisible thief. it steals you away from under the loving hands that try to keep you here.
i am going to go to the graveyard today and water the plants.
as a big sister she was unique and made you laugh and chuckle. she had a wise approach to life and was very reassuring and encouraging.
my children (including her little one) are all arguing loudly so i can't focus.
next time.
and i love you forever sis and i always will.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
thoroughly tired
i would love to go back to bed and sleep but three children are wide awake; tiny one has been having major inexplicable tantrums since he woke, pointing and gesticulating and screeching without me knowing what he wants. he is not ill. i give him cereal... he demands lolly which i think means ice cream, so i get some yoghurt which he seems happy about but then he wants to hold the big yoghurt pot, then he throws his bowl of yoghurt and screechs some more while i have no idea what he actually wants .... tired.
little cousin nephew is on great form to start with and cheery but after an hour of being up and fed he has a huge - baby has just emerged from the kitchen carrying the tub of ice cream he has got out of the freezer saying lolly and he is trying to reach the bowls saying caw caw....
anyway little nephew 7, is in my bedroom which is downstairs, having a huge sort of tantrum, because five minutes ago ice cream eating baby (1 and half) knocked over his lego tower. tired.
now, baby wants me to feed him the flipping ice cream as well.
little girl is at least quiet watching shrek 2, though as i type she calls that she wants to watch something else. the ice cream thing is catching, now little nephew would like some 'because i am hot' he says.
i have a streaming cold. i comply. i am tired and wish they would all suddenly want to sleep for an hour, or i had a magic wand to freeze them for a bit so i could go back to bed.
teenager is exempt from all this lucky thing, fast asleep upstairs. i will have to wake him soon as he has to read the second half of to kill a mocking bird. but right now it is best he sleeps because if he is in the current mix of baby and child demands and tantrums i will feel even tirder, so i will wake him in half an hour.
why do i write this?
no idea some people just like noting the mundane day to day stuff and i am one of those i guess.
little cousin nephew is on great form to start with and cheery but after an hour of being up and fed he has a huge - baby has just emerged from the kitchen carrying the tub of ice cream he has got out of the freezer saying lolly and he is trying to reach the bowls saying caw caw....
anyway little nephew 7, is in my bedroom which is downstairs, having a huge sort of tantrum, because five minutes ago ice cream eating baby (1 and half) knocked over his lego tower. tired.
now, baby wants me to feed him the flipping ice cream as well.
little girl is at least quiet watching shrek 2, though as i type she calls that she wants to watch something else. the ice cream thing is catching, now little nephew would like some 'because i am hot' he says.
i have a streaming cold. i comply. i am tired and wish they would all suddenly want to sleep for an hour, or i had a magic wand to freeze them for a bit so i could go back to bed.
teenager is exempt from all this lucky thing, fast asleep upstairs. i will have to wake him soon as he has to read the second half of to kill a mocking bird. but right now it is best he sleeps because if he is in the current mix of baby and child demands and tantrums i will feel even tirder, so i will wake him in half an hour.
why do i write this?
no idea some people just like noting the mundane day to day stuff and i am one of those i guess.
Thursday, 13 September 2012
vomit versus the shits
i don't know which i'd choose if given the choice.... vomiting is a scary reversal of what feels physically right and renders the author powerless and spasmed into retching up their dinner over a toilet pan which could never be described as pleasant.
the other version is equally dignity reducing and often involves a race to the loo followed by an uncontrollable explosion beyond normal comprehension... and then the lyrics 'and it burns burns burns...the ring of fire' spring to mind.
that of course occurs following maybe a couple of days wandering around with a vague ball of nausea somewhere in the abdomen region .
i actually have spent a few days in the vicinity of the sick... at the weekend my son age one brought up innumerable mouthfuls of thick white gloop followed by nappies of badly made Chinese chicken curry -or so it looked- or thick gravy. i am sorry to share this but i was traumatised. following some more upbringing of general liquid he finally seemed better and my big son -14- took over the mantle. with sinking heart i heard him run across the floor above where i sat followed by the sound of much liquid hitting the floor and so my next duty involved mopping this up and praying i'd be spared despite the physical contact.
then my daughter complained of sick feeling and had a mild touch of the bug.
then i felt ill for the day i won't go into that but following exertive sickersise i could not stay awake which was awkward as i was at home with my one year old. but in a strange kind of way, it was rather lucky that my big son, recovered from sickness, developed a crick in the neck that stopped him from going to school. a difficult one to endorse but it seemed to really hurt and he must have slept badly. so he stayed awake with the little tiny boy while i swooned on the sofa feeling like utter shit.
however, i did not get much sympathy from signifci who barely registered when i texted him at work with the news -i am sick too- it is now nearly nine pm and he still hasn't exuded any sympathy. in fact when he got home from work and a couple of pints in the pub, he managed to intricate himself into a row with big son... somehow this strangely cured me from my illness- having threatened to leave immediately which actually i could not face since being quite ill, the sound of escalating row caused me to throw sickness to the wind and crack open a cold becks. it's amazing that family discord can put an end to drawn out illness. i just hope the beer doesn't resurface at 2 in the morning with a vengeance.
any way, to end on, yesterday i made a green lentil kind of mush with butternut squash pieces, and other bits, like an Irish stew type thing with mash potato and, retrospectively, quite sadly, without the meat. i served it up to me and signifci who ate it and looked as though he was eating a pile of shit, though very tolerantly and politely...and big son, who said he liked it.
following my morning of frequent toilet visits i don't think i will ever ever ever make that particular dish again as it has a sullied reputation which i will forever link with the toilet pan. yuk yuk yuk, i feel queasy as i type.
lets hope tomorrow is a brand new day..
the other version is equally dignity reducing and often involves a race to the loo followed by an uncontrollable explosion beyond normal comprehension... and then the lyrics 'and it burns burns burns...the ring of fire' spring to mind.
that of course occurs following maybe a couple of days wandering around with a vague ball of nausea somewhere in the abdomen region .
i actually have spent a few days in the vicinity of the sick... at the weekend my son age one brought up innumerable mouthfuls of thick white gloop followed by nappies of badly made Chinese chicken curry -or so it looked- or thick gravy. i am sorry to share this but i was traumatised. following some more upbringing of general liquid he finally seemed better and my big son -14- took over the mantle. with sinking heart i heard him run across the floor above where i sat followed by the sound of much liquid hitting the floor and so my next duty involved mopping this up and praying i'd be spared despite the physical contact.
then my daughter complained of sick feeling and had a mild touch of the bug.
then i felt ill for the day i won't go into that but following exertive sickersise i could not stay awake which was awkward as i was at home with my one year old. but in a strange kind of way, it was rather lucky that my big son, recovered from sickness, developed a crick in the neck that stopped him from going to school. a difficult one to endorse but it seemed to really hurt and he must have slept badly. so he stayed awake with the little tiny boy while i swooned on the sofa feeling like utter shit.
however, i did not get much sympathy from signifci who barely registered when i texted him at work with the news -i am sick too- it is now nearly nine pm and he still hasn't exuded any sympathy. in fact when he got home from work and a couple of pints in the pub, he managed to intricate himself into a row with big son... somehow this strangely cured me from my illness- having threatened to leave immediately which actually i could not face since being quite ill, the sound of escalating row caused me to throw sickness to the wind and crack open a cold becks. it's amazing that family discord can put an end to drawn out illness. i just hope the beer doesn't resurface at 2 in the morning with a vengeance.
any way, to end on, yesterday i made a green lentil kind of mush with butternut squash pieces, and other bits, like an Irish stew type thing with mash potato and, retrospectively, quite sadly, without the meat. i served it up to me and signifci who ate it and looked as though he was eating a pile of shit, though very tolerantly and politely...and big son, who said he liked it.
following my morning of frequent toilet visits i don't think i will ever ever ever make that particular dish again as it has a sullied reputation which i will forever link with the toilet pan. yuk yuk yuk, i feel queasy as i type.
lets hope tomorrow is a brand new day..
Tuesday, 11 September 2012
meat versus veg
not much money, just enough, and belly's to feed.
i am not all that keen on meat at the moment though i did eat a steak and chips yesterday and it felt quite nutritional. speaking of money, i got the steaks- regular beef steaks (about five clean sinew-free fairly fat steaks) for about £3 from tescos , reduced from about £6, and needing to be eaten yesterday.
served it with chips, peas and buttered marrow, yum. daughter sometimes asks for chewy meat (since our regular diet consists of minced beef recipies and chicken mostly). But she didn't really finish it.
anyway today i am planning to make spaggetti bol because you can't really go wrong with that and it pleases most. it is easy. i have recently taken to buying the basic/value range of mince since it comes up ok, but i cook and drain off the fat first and pick out any bits of white chewy stuff-tiny bits- (yuk) if i see them. once met with onion, garlic, tomatoes herbs etc and stock and cooked till it marries nicely (with cheaper meat i cook for a few hrs...) it tastes lovely with some pasta and grated cheese.
however, this week i am skintalintos and i have decided to give meat to the fussy meat eaters in the family and i am gonna make some vege stuff and see how it tastes.
i am boiling up some green lentils and will cook with onions, garlic, courgettes, tomatoes, and maybe some other things and see if it is nice with pasta, and maybe as a sort of cottage pie.
as i type it sounds unappealing but i am gonna give it a try.
last week my dad got two humungus cauliflours from lewisham market and gave me one. i got two cauliflour cheeses out of it and i made a veg curry which i thought looked lovely....onion, ginger, garlic, tin toms, cauliflour, potatoes, carrots and peas...with spices cooked in oil first etc etc. however, for some reason it simply fermented in the fridge for five days and never got eaten and i have just thrown it away.
i think the gentle noises from the males (minus the littlest male of one) of how nice it would be with some chicken added and the general overload of cauliflour led it to it's fetid end, where even i could not face it. but i plan to make another just for me, while they can continue to eat their meat!
any way. thats it really.
i am not all that keen on meat at the moment though i did eat a steak and chips yesterday and it felt quite nutritional. speaking of money, i got the steaks- regular beef steaks (about five clean sinew-free fairly fat steaks) for about £3 from tescos , reduced from about £6, and needing to be eaten yesterday.
served it with chips, peas and buttered marrow, yum. daughter sometimes asks for chewy meat (since our regular diet consists of minced beef recipies and chicken mostly). But she didn't really finish it.
anyway today i am planning to make spaggetti bol because you can't really go wrong with that and it pleases most. it is easy. i have recently taken to buying the basic/value range of mince since it comes up ok, but i cook and drain off the fat first and pick out any bits of white chewy stuff-tiny bits- (yuk) if i see them. once met with onion, garlic, tomatoes herbs etc and stock and cooked till it marries nicely (with cheaper meat i cook for a few hrs...) it tastes lovely with some pasta and grated cheese.
however, this week i am skintalintos and i have decided to give meat to the fussy meat eaters in the family and i am gonna make some vege stuff and see how it tastes.
i am boiling up some green lentils and will cook with onions, garlic, courgettes, tomatoes, and maybe some other things and see if it is nice with pasta, and maybe as a sort of cottage pie.
as i type it sounds unappealing but i am gonna give it a try.
last week my dad got two humungus cauliflours from lewisham market and gave me one. i got two cauliflour cheeses out of it and i made a veg curry which i thought looked lovely....onion, ginger, garlic, tin toms, cauliflour, potatoes, carrots and peas...with spices cooked in oil first etc etc. however, for some reason it simply fermented in the fridge for five days and never got eaten and i have just thrown it away.
i think the gentle noises from the males (minus the littlest male of one) of how nice it would be with some chicken added and the general overload of cauliflour led it to it's fetid end, where even i could not face it. but i plan to make another just for me, while they can continue to eat their meat!
any way. thats it really.
Sunday, 9 September 2012
westminster bridge at sunrise
westminster bridge at sunrise we- myself, my son of one, my mum, two of my sisters and one of their boyfs and a doting friend of my late, sweet sister gathered to throw deep red roses into the swirling thames and watch them drift away. the incongruity of the deep beautiful and suddenly fragile flowers as they met the strong current of the rushing thames was somehow quite beautiful. and we called to her, and in the opening pale gold of the morning light i could almost feel her warm smile comforting us from the wide open sky.
it was not quite as quiet as when wordsworth stood somewhere there, and we could see no fields or theatres ....the bridge was closed to traffic, thankfully, but peopled with many busy figures going home or setting out; this is a different century...., but the bright fresh morning and the wakeful river still made a beautiful setting for our sister's birthday morning.
the sun slowly rose and despite the trimmings of modernity; the wakefulness of the city.... the majesty of the morning spoke to us as glass windows and metal on buildings afar reflected the dazzling sun's steep climb. the sky met with the pale emanating yellow light and daytime was officially begun. upon which we left the bridge and returned to our car to go home.
at the graveyard at falconwood later we again gathered, family and friends to sit at the graveside where our sister was laid and i found the beautiful flowers so lovely and yet so sorrowful as there was just not my sister and the why why why????? would not leave my head....how i long to spend her birthday with her not sitting near the silent closed grave. the bitter unfairness of this life is forefront in my mind as i have to accept once again that i only have memories passed and no longer can see of touch the vessel of the beautiful soul who has flown.
happy birthday sister i love you forever and will miss you forever.
the day you were born was a momentus and special day when the world was granted the beautiful privalige to have had you step upon its soil. and as a sister i am so grateful to have known beautiful you.
it was not quite as quiet as when wordsworth stood somewhere there, and we could see no fields or theatres ....the bridge was closed to traffic, thankfully, but peopled with many busy figures going home or setting out; this is a different century...., but the bright fresh morning and the wakeful river still made a beautiful setting for our sister's birthday morning.
the sun slowly rose and despite the trimmings of modernity; the wakefulness of the city.... the majesty of the morning spoke to us as glass windows and metal on buildings afar reflected the dazzling sun's steep climb. the sky met with the pale emanating yellow light and daytime was officially begun. upon which we left the bridge and returned to our car to go home.
at the graveyard at falconwood later we again gathered, family and friends to sit at the graveside where our sister was laid and i found the beautiful flowers so lovely and yet so sorrowful as there was just not my sister and the why why why????? would not leave my head....how i long to spend her birthday with her not sitting near the silent closed grave. the bitter unfairness of this life is forefront in my mind as i have to accept once again that i only have memories passed and no longer can see of touch the vessel of the beautiful soul who has flown.
happy birthday sister i love you forever and will miss you forever.
the day you were born was a momentus and special day when the world was granted the beautiful privalige to have had you step upon its soil. and as a sister i am so grateful to have known beautiful you.
Saturday, 8 September 2012
i thought
i thought the kids were asleep, it is 11 pm and i put them all on the sofa to watch a kids movie and have stayed well away enjoying the peace... but then a child ran up the stairs to the loo and i heard the littlest squeel, so unbelievably they are still awake despite having spent the afternoon at the southbank playing in a glorious sandpit and walking miles to find the car.
i am drinking a glass of wine before i retire to bed i am sitting in the ridiculous kitchen which needs walls knocked down as it is too small to swing a cat.
to my front is a laptop on a table. to my right is the gurgling sink, to my left is an office cupboard which is now a kitchen cupboard- jutting out into the small space we have, behind me the washingmachine is chanting and my smallest child is there having climbed out of his bed to freedom.
i am drinking a glass of wine before i retire to bed i am sitting in the ridiculous kitchen which needs walls knocked down as it is too small to swing a cat.
to my front is a laptop on a table. to my right is the gurgling sink, to my left is an office cupboard which is now a kitchen cupboard- jutting out into the small space we have, behind me the washingmachine is chanting and my smallest child is there having climbed out of his bed to freedom.
Thursday, 6 September 2012
i love my family
something strange has happened.
while i have mourned my sister, i have also been profoundly affected with new love for those i previously found most challenging. i feel as though the spirit of my sister is there encouraging me to appreciate what i have. i have sewn holes in socks and tried to cook dinner each night. i love my signifci other. i want to make my son feel loved -the big one- and i feel like i have been in a coma and why have i spent so long not loving? i love her so much. i miss her forevere.
while i have mourned my sister, i have also been profoundly affected with new love for those i previously found most challenging. i feel as though the spirit of my sister is there encouraging me to appreciate what i have. i have sewn holes in socks and tried to cook dinner each night. i love my signifci other. i want to make my son feel loved -the big one- and i feel like i have been in a coma and why have i spent so long not loving? i love her so much. i miss her forevere.
Tuesday, 4 September 2012
miss you blues
oh god i miss my sister so much.
it has come back with a vengeance the permanance of death.
i can only think why? why did she have to be taken from us?
she had so many amazing talents and qualities and she has gone and i will never see her again as long as i live.
i feel so angry that she did not get to live on here and display her beauty any more.
i hate disease i hate it it is evil and cruel and it stole away my big sister from me.
i want to call her and see her and see what she plans to do on her birthday.
i want to chat and laugh with her, share our worries and laugh about everything like we used to.
i want to see what she is like today, what she has planned up her sleeve to get through the days next.
i want her.
she made me try eyebrow threading when we went to lewisham when she was ill.
i want to go again with her, to get a coffee and have her get one just the qway she likes it.
with a little slice of cake or something nice.
i want her outlook on things.
what she thinks matters; it shapes how i see things.
i want her here on this journey.
i am bereft.
Monday, 3 September 2012
the deed is done
i could not resist the brain numbing need for wine. when he returned from work he got some beers and i asked for some wine. it was too late i could not take it back. this morning i left my baby asleep while i took daughter to school, but i had to run home down this huge hill- in flip flops- since he was having to leave for work asap and needed to bath etc....
i ran and jogged down the hill with my flip flops smashing on the concrete... i may even have appeared to be quite healthy but i felt like i was having a heart attack and i was prickly hot and sweaty. the little one was still asleep thank god, but as i returned to normal pace i started to retch and my whole body tried to vomit. the exercise had been to much and yet it was what my body craves but my intestines revolted. i did not get sick, but the nausea was overwhelming.
now i am half a bottle down and dread the morning when i seek clarity and impersonate clarity but infact i am a blind fox chasing my tail.
my doctor is useless, she suggests drawing a line on the bottle. it doesn;t work i tell you.
i ran and jogged down the hill with my flip flops smashing on the concrete... i may even have appeared to be quite healthy but i felt like i was having a heart attack and i was prickly hot and sweaty. the little one was still asleep thank god, but as i returned to normal pace i started to retch and my whole body tried to vomit. the exercise had been to much and yet it was what my body craves but my intestines revolted. i did not get sick, but the nausea was overwhelming.
now i am half a bottle down and dread the morning when i seek clarity and impersonate clarity but infact i am a blind fox chasing my tail.
my doctor is useless, she suggests drawing a line on the bottle. it doesn;t work i tell you.
one day down
this is bleak. i think i hate the whole routine of school and the restrictions it places upon the rhythm of life. this must make me socially dysfunctional. i hate it. i am trying to imagine how it would have to be for me to like it. maybe if i went each day to an airy studio and could do stuff i love to do....plus my sister would be there and it would all be good.
i just hate life sometimes.
i find the whole Monday to Friday thing depressing. i just have to go through the motions.
i also need to stop drinking wine particularly because the strength of it and the pungency of its concentrated taste is so addictive for me. and the way after a large glass you feel a bit more hazy and less concerned with these things that bring you down.
since five i have drunk two pints of lager which i find watery and not hitting the spot. but for me that feels like drinking water. however i will plough on and not drink wine, i may drink another beer before bed and hopefully tomorrow i can avoid drinking wine again.
but i don't want to get a taste for beer either. i wish i could just lay off drinking and find new life in me without having to succumb to alcoholics anonymous.
i am thirty four i am not ready to give up completely, but the more that i drink, the more that i give up, and the more that i give up the more that i drink and i am losing sight of the exit path in fact i can't even see it. it helps that the beer i am drinking is gross. i am weak. i do not know myself. i am a puppet without strings.
i just hate life sometimes.
i find the whole Monday to Friday thing depressing. i just have to go through the motions.
i also need to stop drinking wine particularly because the strength of it and the pungency of its concentrated taste is so addictive for me. and the way after a large glass you feel a bit more hazy and less concerned with these things that bring you down.
since five i have drunk two pints of lager which i find watery and not hitting the spot. but for me that feels like drinking water. however i will plough on and not drink wine, i may drink another beer before bed and hopefully tomorrow i can avoid drinking wine again.
but i don't want to get a taste for beer either. i wish i could just lay off drinking and find new life in me without having to succumb to alcoholics anonymous.
i am thirty four i am not ready to give up completely, but the more that i drink, the more that i give up, and the more that i give up the more that i drink and i am losing sight of the exit path in fact i can't even see it. it helps that the beer i am drinking is gross. i am weak. i do not know myself. i am a puppet without strings.
paralysed
today i attended the post mortem results with one of the doctors who attended my sis.
i now feel paralysed and restless if the two combine.
i miss her so much and want her to be here for these last summer days. i know if things had been different today we may well have met up in the sunshine and sat watching the kids playing. once on an evening just like this a few years ago, we met in Greenwich park and shared a bottle of cold rose while the children ran around in the flower garden. then we planned to eat steak and spinach. we buried the bottle somewhere thinking it could be there for years to come.
she always talked of how fleeting these childhood days are and how we should do nice things ike this as much as possible. that was before she became ill.
seeing her darling name and date of birth and date of death has stopped me in my tracks once again. i don't want to live without her. i need her.
i now feel paralysed and restless if the two combine.
i miss her so much and want her to be here for these last summer days. i know if things had been different today we may well have met up in the sunshine and sat watching the kids playing. once on an evening just like this a few years ago, we met in Greenwich park and shared a bottle of cold rose while the children ran around in the flower garden. then we planned to eat steak and spinach. we buried the bottle somewhere thinking it could be there for years to come.
she always talked of how fleeting these childhood days are and how we should do nice things ike this as much as possible. that was before she became ill.
seeing her darling name and date of birth and date of death has stopped me in my tracks once again. i don't want to live without her. i need her.
Sunday, 2 September 2012
no title
i wonder if i really had nothing to complain about whether i'd actually have anything to write at all.
like, if my children were all gone and i was content and had the afternoon free, could i actually pull anything out of the bag?
i mean there is not a novel in me that is for sure. i cannot even begin to think about a subject matter or way to write if if there was a subject matter...
i am always impressed with anyone who can sustain interest in their story for long enough to weave fabricated intricate falsehoods about unreal characters.
i would like to know how.
but even pursuing that interest exhausts my imagination.
my pursuit in writing it seems would surely be a way to placate my unquiet mind...to breathe out the incessant ongoings of whatever goes on between my ears.
in fact as well as coming across 700 000 pounds minimum through some fortunate event, i would also love to be able to write a world that actually captured my imagination and chased me on and on till i finished it.
i visited my sister's grave today with my son and daughter, her son, my sister in law and my mum. the last few days have brought grief especially in moments when i am suddenly alone with no children and i realise what has happened and it all runs through my mind, and i try to make sense of it. i try to remember the last time i was with her and i try to grasp memories. it is to strange to find a loved one removed from you.
the resting place for her body was beautiful, some big yellow fake but gorgeous flowers were in a vase and a small rose flourished near the cross bearing her name...another rose was in a pot which we planted into the earth. there were some beautiful wild looking plants of pale pinky red amongst green and red geraniums. another sister had been and put stones around the edge, and my sister in law brought incense- rose garden- that we lit and watched the fragrant smoke billow around her beautiful photo. i bought a candle with a beautiful sister poem on it, which stayed alight even as we left.
in the flower shop there, the kind lady sold us some pink carnations and some pansies and other flowers, then meeting my little nephew, she gave him a mummy vase and a beautiful bouquet of pink roses.
like, if my children were all gone and i was content and had the afternoon free, could i actually pull anything out of the bag?
i mean there is not a novel in me that is for sure. i cannot even begin to think about a subject matter or way to write if if there was a subject matter...
i am always impressed with anyone who can sustain interest in their story for long enough to weave fabricated intricate falsehoods about unreal characters.
i would like to know how.
but even pursuing that interest exhausts my imagination.
my pursuit in writing it seems would surely be a way to placate my unquiet mind...to breathe out the incessant ongoings of whatever goes on between my ears.
in fact as well as coming across 700 000 pounds minimum through some fortunate event, i would also love to be able to write a world that actually captured my imagination and chased me on and on till i finished it.
i visited my sister's grave today with my son and daughter, her son, my sister in law and my mum. the last few days have brought grief especially in moments when i am suddenly alone with no children and i realise what has happened and it all runs through my mind, and i try to make sense of it. i try to remember the last time i was with her and i try to grasp memories. it is to strange to find a loved one removed from you.
the resting place for her body was beautiful, some big yellow fake but gorgeous flowers were in a vase and a small rose flourished near the cross bearing her name...another rose was in a pot which we planted into the earth. there were some beautiful wild looking plants of pale pinky red amongst green and red geraniums. another sister had been and put stones around the edge, and my sister in law brought incense- rose garden- that we lit and watched the fragrant smoke billow around her beautiful photo. i bought a candle with a beautiful sister poem on it, which stayed alight even as we left.
in the flower shop there, the kind lady sold us some pink carnations and some pansies and other flowers, then meeting my little nephew, she gave him a mummy vase and a beautiful bouquet of pink roses.
Friday, 31 August 2012
keep on running
woke up at five with thoroughly blocked up nose and puffy eyes. the mirror lies and has turned me into a different person this morning. it is definately not me in there but the face of a tired looking woman looking back.
i need to change pretty desparately.
i want the best of two worlds.... one where i appreciate and enjoy the moment i am in and don't try to drink it away every evening....and where i enjoy the childhood of my children ..... and one where i am doing things that make me feel more purposeful....
i love my children but i find that by 6pm i feel i have earned a well deserved drink.... be it a cold glass of beer or a huge glass of wine.
four hours later the bottle will be finished ....night after night and so i wake at five and see this person before me who is losing herself every night because she is intrinsically unhappy.
in those four or so hours i still do things like clear the table, wash up, tidy general mess, continue with the never ending laundy.... get kids to bed.... then i may watch something on tv like hotel inspector and celebrity big brother.... but i have recently let my daughter fall asleep on the sofa and the baby wear himself out playing. my big son was out at his auntys last night but if he was here it is a different mood again...
well chicken and egg. i have tried to work out whether i drink because i find my life tricky or whether my life is tricky because i drink too much.
i need to be more warrior like...i am not sure i can face the evenings. can i try?
well at this timne of the morning i can, but it is friday and i am not sure i can control how i will feel at 6pm.
oh shit.
someone is waking upstairs and my reverie is nearly over.... back to bed till 7? or stay up now? maybe stay up so by 9pm i will be so tired i'll not want a drink.
it occured to me this morning that this blog is very good for me because it is a vent a big fat vent for the words in my head and the pile up of musings.
my sweet and dearly missed sister and talented writer and poet encouraged me to write, and even when i said i could not because it was all so dreary and about me ish and stuff she said, still write.
admittedly, i was hoping that by now the writing would have metamorped from dreary personal obsessive misery to a best selling novel manifestation! however, right now it doesn't much matter.
#
i need to change pretty desparately.
i want the best of two worlds.... one where i appreciate and enjoy the moment i am in and don't try to drink it away every evening....and where i enjoy the childhood of my children ..... and one where i am doing things that make me feel more purposeful....
i love my children but i find that by 6pm i feel i have earned a well deserved drink.... be it a cold glass of beer or a huge glass of wine.
four hours later the bottle will be finished ....night after night and so i wake at five and see this person before me who is losing herself every night because she is intrinsically unhappy.
in those four or so hours i still do things like clear the table, wash up, tidy general mess, continue with the never ending laundy.... get kids to bed.... then i may watch something on tv like hotel inspector and celebrity big brother.... but i have recently let my daughter fall asleep on the sofa and the baby wear himself out playing. my big son was out at his auntys last night but if he was here it is a different mood again...
well chicken and egg. i have tried to work out whether i drink because i find my life tricky or whether my life is tricky because i drink too much.
i need to be more warrior like...i am not sure i can face the evenings. can i try?
well at this timne of the morning i can, but it is friday and i am not sure i can control how i will feel at 6pm.
oh shit.
someone is waking upstairs and my reverie is nearly over.... back to bed till 7? or stay up now? maybe stay up so by 9pm i will be so tired i'll not want a drink.
it occured to me this morning that this blog is very good for me because it is a vent a big fat vent for the words in my head and the pile up of musings.
my sweet and dearly missed sister and talented writer and poet encouraged me to write, and even when i said i could not because it was all so dreary and about me ish and stuff she said, still write.
admittedly, i was hoping that by now the writing would have metamorped from dreary personal obsessive misery to a best selling novel manifestation! however, right now it doesn't much matter.
#
Wednesday, 29 August 2012
sad sad sad
i am feeling mournful. at the rain fell from the sky today and seemed to wash in autumnal skies i felt the same tinge of anxiety i can't put my finger on but which comes to greet me obliquely at this time of year setting me askance. as summer comes to an end the free days and childhood melts into strict school uniform and social conformity.
it sounds morbid but it feels as if the whisper of death starts to cast shadows in my mind.
maybe it is a mixture of things.... my daughters summer holiday ends today. by the time we reach this time next year the summer will show me such different older children.
who knows what the winter will bring?
christmas has these last few years felt less like a new birth and more like a dark cold place of depression crudely in contrast with the merriness that we are supposed to expound and that exudes from children's eager enthusiasm. i can admit finally here, that celebration causes me anxiety and yet i cannot explain why. perhaps because i have feigned it all this time.
this september brings the birthday of my sister who has passed.
anxiety and sadness cannot be avoided.
the awakening that we must grow older and not still know her here.
i will throw red roses from Westminster bridge at dawn.
I hope she will meet me there and talk to me through the skies.
a close and important friend says she may move to another part of the country , not so far, but far enough not to drop in on. this compounds the feeling of change and dying that pervades me today.
i perhaps have sad who knows or perhaps i remember my childhood septembers....
excitement, new shoes and pens, fresh from magical summers in France to the cold cruel days of school and crappy friendships or lack of....
winter for me brings resounding echoes of autumn's passed and i must try to wake into a fresh day. +++++++++++++++++---
it sounds morbid but it feels as if the whisper of death starts to cast shadows in my mind.
maybe it is a mixture of things.... my daughters summer holiday ends today. by the time we reach this time next year the summer will show me such different older children.
who knows what the winter will bring?
christmas has these last few years felt less like a new birth and more like a dark cold place of depression crudely in contrast with the merriness that we are supposed to expound and that exudes from children's eager enthusiasm. i can admit finally here, that celebration causes me anxiety and yet i cannot explain why. perhaps because i have feigned it all this time.
this september brings the birthday of my sister who has passed.
anxiety and sadness cannot be avoided.
the awakening that we must grow older and not still know her here.
i will throw red roses from Westminster bridge at dawn.
I hope she will meet me there and talk to me through the skies.
a close and important friend says she may move to another part of the country , not so far, but far enough not to drop in on. this compounds the feeling of change and dying that pervades me today.
i perhaps have sad who knows or perhaps i remember my childhood septembers....
excitement, new shoes and pens, fresh from magical summers in France to the cold cruel days of school and crappy friendships or lack of....
winter for me brings resounding echoes of autumn's passed and i must try to wake into a fresh day. +++++++++++++++++---
Tuesday, 28 August 2012
all good things come to an end.
a few days ago, i had returned from a short Sussex break. I felt a tiny bit renewed and thought how nice it'd be to spend each day in holiday mode, where you know the routine but you are filled with a little anticipation.
my daughter goes back to school the day after tomorrow.
since Monday she, her cousin and her other cousin have had swimming lessons in the morning at decathlon in Surrey quays- for free!!
after further time spent today at Charlton lido I am now home and in customary fashion am clutching a glass of white wine as next door he who has just come back from a days gardening is cursing and swearing and filthily excreting bullshit from his mouth in the most horrible way. bring on September.
I have these wild ideas that i can start afresh but yet the day to day treading on eggshells is retuning where it is just enough to cope with the day running smoothly and angers and tempers not flaring rather than relaxing and pursuing my own ideas of what i'd like to do.
my daughter goes back to school the day after tomorrow.
since Monday she, her cousin and her other cousin have had swimming lessons in the morning at decathlon in Surrey quays- for free!!
after further time spent today at Charlton lido I am now home and in customary fashion am clutching a glass of white wine as next door he who has just come back from a days gardening is cursing and swearing and filthily excreting bullshit from his mouth in the most horrible way. bring on September.
I have these wild ideas that i can start afresh but yet the day to day treading on eggshells is retuning where it is just enough to cope with the day running smoothly and angers and tempers not flaring rather than relaxing and pursuing my own ideas of what i'd like to do.
Saturday, 25 August 2012
things i forgot to mention and i will forget
just before we left the holiday caravan site I took a last visit to the shallow lagoon to feed the ducks. it was windy and blustery rain spattered and waves chopped towards the bridge where I was standing alone. across the sky flocked sea gulls which glided and surfed the brazen wind. I was alone with these birds and small black ducks which lurched and swam towards the meagre offering I'd brought. other ducks, mallards and others, gathered and the white cartoon sea gulls sang in their shrill squawking voices as they danced above me. the most beautiful sight amongst this flurry of ducks and birds were the hungry but dignified swans who urgently came towards me, two of which were gleaming white with delicate bending necks and two of the sweetest fluffy brown complexion i have ever seen in a swan. delicate gentle necks and pale brown feathers which looked as soft as duckling fur they reminded me of my beautiful son, innocent and engaged with their plight of gathering bread in such a dignified though urgent manner.
swimming...every day we visited the complexes swimming pool and for a minimum of an hour my nephew, son and daughter squealed and swam and dived and played while me and tiny boy stayed in the shallow toddler's pool where he walked and walked, sometimes with bended knees like he was doing the limbo and dived and danced and laughed and splashed; it was beautiful.
one day we discovered the nature reserve surrounding the site and I went from feeling like a character in the prisoner to having a better idea of where we sat in the landscape. Old aunty managed the gravel path on her scooter and we walked along beside the expanse of the lagoon, the stretch of water which mingled with sunlight and was freckled with ducks and swans. on the other side the cloudy blue sky rested above van Gogh fields of textured green grasses peopled with birds that looked like baby dinosaurs. the children roamed.
away i discovered a small lease of life, only small, but where we swam daily and we woke early to breakfast and nothing to do but go play tennis of walk to the beach. i played tennis with my biggest son while my nephew and daughter were ball boys. in the morning the grass was pale with dew and the sky was misty with hope of sunshine.
Thursday, 23 August 2012
day five of our holiday
we have been at a haven holiday site in west sussex and arriving on saturday night and waking sunday morning with a caravan full of kids, it felt at times like the end day might never arrive.
we came with my significant other's elderly aunt and her old friend; they have one caravan for wheelchairs, and me, the old man, the teenager, the nephew (son!), daughter and littlen in the other.
our caravan has at times shook with children; running, arguing; being pains in the arse and so on and so forth.... but ultimately they have, i think had a nice time.
i must say, money has not been really flowing, but somehow we have got throught the week... marmite and choclate spread sandwiches have replaced fish and chips ...but the kids have been okay with that. they had a cafe meal of chips and nuggets/ burgers (signifci and i shared a bowl of chips ... what sacrafice!!! while children rejected their burgers -not macdonaldy enough- not realising the irony of their rejection as signifci and i heroically offered the last chip to one another)
they have had ice creams and sea front (bognor reigis )fun of bouncy castles and pedalloes and what not.
they have cruised the insane wild windy waves (the little nephew gallantly racing into them over and over before shrieking eventually with the cold) and the teenager having bought a boogie board (?) at an yard sale in pagham (near the caravan site) surfing the waves at Bognor.
They have been to the stony Pagham beach and they and i (while baby was sleeping) swam in the sea and we bought little dinghys for them to sail on. no such luck, they kept on blowing away.
we walked round pagham lagoon, and fed the ducks and skimmed stones at the natural harbour
the kids were amazing with all the walking and their journey was peppered with stone searching, chocolate spread sandwiches and orange juice in plastic cups. signifci and i shared the odd beer.
we visited the nature reserve and wetlands and our old aunt whizzed along on her motor scooter while the kids ran ahead or lagged behind scarmbling hills or finding feathers, watching birds and swans and ducks of various names. the fields and views looked like van gogh paintings and suddenly while bathed amongst the green and blue i felt quite happy.
we saw thatched roofs and horses. we saw fish gobbling the water's surface. we picked blacberries and bought apples and custard and made apple and blackberry crumble.
we went to chichester cathedral and walked the stony paths showing to each sides various bishops passed lying in statue form upon raised tombs with various facial expressions. i could not believe how well behaved the kids were considering they had thought we'd be going to sea world in brighton!!!! (the oldies decided -having expressed loudly their desire to go there, that it was actually to far away after all, so chichester cathedral it was!!.... despite both oldies saying it was their least favourite cathedral ever))
any way. if i had written this this morning it would have been far more depressing, since the previous day we raced to do bingo, then significi-who knows how to play, didn't make it in time. i encouraged old aunty to come and the poor lass raced there and we got there in the nick of time. it was no fun. i only like bingo if signifci other is there, so i sat there trying to play, not realising there is a sodding rhyme and reason to it....i sat there like a plum missing numbers left right and centre. i had my teenager hissing at me for being so incompetent and old aunt diligently marked her numbers. significi turned up and i thrust my bingo sheet and him and sat back watching old aunty carefully find all her numbers.
penultimately she called out....she thought she had a line for £60 she was wrong but it was an ominous echo of what was to come....
next play and she scibbled away (for £100). then came the noise of someone having a full house. as that noise progressed and the lady on the mike went to the winning table and chatter resumed, old aunty said 'i got it.. i got one too'. for some reason i became leaden and my voice shrunk. shout out said signifci.... no, you shout out, i said, slightly unconfident she'd made another mistake and made vulnerable by the noisy celebrations of the winner. after more arguing signifci went to the podium and said we had a full house too. the claim has already been made said the lady. old aunty seemed littler and redder when we took her home. i felt depressed and tearful and slightly starved having visited bognor and eaten only one marmite sandwich.
however today after a spot of expensive laundry doing + escape from children, i eventually felt better.
tomorrow we will visit a bird, butterfly and beast place down the road.
we will swim in the pool, the kidz will do fun inflatable stuff in the pool, i will try to get old aunty a special trip to the 'owners' jacuzzi (since the hoist is broken in the swimming pool and i have complained)
we will go the the disco and i may try and take the kids out for a meal in the complex for the last night.
this was a very long blog but hey, i needed to get some out, spelling mistakes and all!!
xxxxxx
we came with my significant other's elderly aunt and her old friend; they have one caravan for wheelchairs, and me, the old man, the teenager, the nephew (son!), daughter and littlen in the other.
our caravan has at times shook with children; running, arguing; being pains in the arse and so on and so forth.... but ultimately they have, i think had a nice time.
i must say, money has not been really flowing, but somehow we have got throught the week... marmite and choclate spread sandwiches have replaced fish and chips ...but the kids have been okay with that. they had a cafe meal of chips and nuggets/ burgers (signifci and i shared a bowl of chips ... what sacrafice!!! while children rejected their burgers -not macdonaldy enough- not realising the irony of their rejection as signifci and i heroically offered the last chip to one another)
they have had ice creams and sea front (bognor reigis )fun of bouncy castles and pedalloes and what not.
they have cruised the insane wild windy waves (the little nephew gallantly racing into them over and over before shrieking eventually with the cold) and the teenager having bought a boogie board (?) at an yard sale in pagham (near the caravan site) surfing the waves at Bognor.
They have been to the stony Pagham beach and they and i (while baby was sleeping) swam in the sea and we bought little dinghys for them to sail on. no such luck, they kept on blowing away.
we walked round pagham lagoon, and fed the ducks and skimmed stones at the natural harbour
the kids were amazing with all the walking and their journey was peppered with stone searching, chocolate spread sandwiches and orange juice in plastic cups. signifci and i shared the odd beer.
we visited the nature reserve and wetlands and our old aunt whizzed along on her motor scooter while the kids ran ahead or lagged behind scarmbling hills or finding feathers, watching birds and swans and ducks of various names. the fields and views looked like van gogh paintings and suddenly while bathed amongst the green and blue i felt quite happy.
we saw thatched roofs and horses. we saw fish gobbling the water's surface. we picked blacberries and bought apples and custard and made apple and blackberry crumble.
we went to chichester cathedral and walked the stony paths showing to each sides various bishops passed lying in statue form upon raised tombs with various facial expressions. i could not believe how well behaved the kids were considering they had thought we'd be going to sea world in brighton!!!! (the oldies decided -having expressed loudly their desire to go there, that it was actually to far away after all, so chichester cathedral it was!!.... despite both oldies saying it was their least favourite cathedral ever))
any way. if i had written this this morning it would have been far more depressing, since the previous day we raced to do bingo, then significi-who knows how to play, didn't make it in time. i encouraged old aunty to come and the poor lass raced there and we got there in the nick of time. it was no fun. i only like bingo if signifci other is there, so i sat there trying to play, not realising there is a sodding rhyme and reason to it....i sat there like a plum missing numbers left right and centre. i had my teenager hissing at me for being so incompetent and old aunt diligently marked her numbers. significi turned up and i thrust my bingo sheet and him and sat back watching old aunty carefully find all her numbers.
penultimately she called out....she thought she had a line for £60 she was wrong but it was an ominous echo of what was to come....
next play and she scibbled away (for £100). then came the noise of someone having a full house. as that noise progressed and the lady on the mike went to the winning table and chatter resumed, old aunty said 'i got it.. i got one too'. for some reason i became leaden and my voice shrunk. shout out said signifci.... no, you shout out, i said, slightly unconfident she'd made another mistake and made vulnerable by the noisy celebrations of the winner. after more arguing signifci went to the podium and said we had a full house too. the claim has already been made said the lady. old aunty seemed littler and redder when we took her home. i felt depressed and tearful and slightly starved having visited bognor and eaten only one marmite sandwich.
however today after a spot of expensive laundry doing + escape from children, i eventually felt better.
tomorrow we will visit a bird, butterfly and beast place down the road.
we will swim in the pool, the kidz will do fun inflatable stuff in the pool, i will try to get old aunty a special trip to the 'owners' jacuzzi (since the hoist is broken in the swimming pool and i have complained)
we will go the the disco and i may try and take the kids out for a meal in the complex for the last night.
this was a very long blog but hey, i needed to get some out, spelling mistakes and all!!
xxxxxx
Monday, 13 August 2012
life is what you make it
it is 10 31 pm and I just came back from a quick walk to the off licence to buy a can of beer. i am not yet ready to go to bed. some of the kids are still awake. on the way I sang a song of life's a bitch a big fat bitch. I hated all humans that passed, seeing them as bitch's whores. on the way back i saw a neighbour who lost her husband to a blood cancer over a year ago. can in bag i saw her and gladly hugged her. we hug from time to time. I told her i was pissed (as in angry) and fed up with kids she told me 'they keep you young.... ' I told her 'life is a bitch, it is hard and long' she told me 'life is what you make it'.
as far as i'm concerned, it's still a bitch but i have a whole lot of making to do.
got to remember, live in the minute. breathe in, breathe out. relax.
as far as i'm concerned, it's still a bitch but i have a whole lot of making to do.
got to remember, live in the minute. breathe in, breathe out. relax.
nervous breakdown
tonight I have my son 14, my nephew 7, my daughter 5, my niece 4, my son 18 months my 'husband' (we're not married) and me losing it altogether. My niece wants her mum. my son 18 months has insomnia, my nephew is awake and my daughter is suddenly hungry. I have had enough. Next week I am going on holiday courtesy of my aunt in law 87 years. My 'husband' says he cannot come he needs to work to pay the rent and bills. so, that is me, my son 14, my nephew, my daughter 5 and my aunt in law. bring on the joy. bring on the agony. Liz Jones thinks she has it bad....
i cannot describe the day to day anguish of in a relationship single parenthood, poverty- working to purely pay the bills and general pain and discomfort. I mean sometimes it is OK I can handle it but sometimes it is like treacle walking or water boarding. and i say that guiltily, but sometimes it is painful.
i do not know how i do it and yet i don't i am just carried along in the rushing tides of each wave.
long out breath.
i cannot describe the day to day anguish of in a relationship single parenthood, poverty- working to purely pay the bills and general pain and discomfort. I mean sometimes it is OK I can handle it but sometimes it is like treacle walking or water boarding. and i say that guiltily, but sometimes it is painful.
i do not know how i do it and yet i don't i am just carried along in the rushing tides of each wave.
long out breath.
Saturday, 11 August 2012
white noise
apparently I broke the oven by covering the ham with greaseproof paper instead of foil- which we had run out of. apparently it set fire to the rubber thing that held the glass inner plate in which has now fallen out. balderdash, it must have take a few months for that to erode. but never mind. this is translated to me at low level tone by significant other through one or maybe two walls while I painfully epilate my underarms. somehow the blistering shots of mini pain as the epilator pulls the hairs out rapidly is preferable to the full sound of his incessancy. the gentle acrimony of everyday life.
that was this morning before the trip to Footscray meadows where the windy summer's day was punctuated with whines and whinges of small children with a field to play in but who would prefer to play in very close proximity to me...stepping on me, almost clawing at me as i seek a moment of repose. Though actually they did paddle in teh stream and it was quite lovely watching them roam the meadows when they weren't on top of me.
so the oven is broke- a symbolic domestic nightmare which is a bit like the last straw. I will at some point contact the insurance people and go through the monotonous questions to replace it.
I am home now following a further argument about which way to drive home and then whether to stop off at family for a good supper and glass of wine or go home to watch sport (not me) carry on with domestic monotony and eat substandard take away. we go with the second choice and the cloying grease of a lazy chicken shop delivery service still sits uncomfortably in my throat.
at Footscray meadows I saw a couple canoodiling. they sat upon a bridge sharing berries from a plastic tub. legs swinging.
later as I sat with my family I saw them again passing by, they stopped to share a kiss, then went on. will it last I thought? or end in itchy annoyance and cloying discontent. will she have children clutching at her legs as she goes about her way or will they revel in youthful sweet love for eternity. who knows it is all relative anyway.
I have nothing much more to report. it is all to mundane and exceptional all at once. and so for now goodnight.
that was this morning before the trip to Footscray meadows where the windy summer's day was punctuated with whines and whinges of small children with a field to play in but who would prefer to play in very close proximity to me...stepping on me, almost clawing at me as i seek a moment of repose. Though actually they did paddle in teh stream and it was quite lovely watching them roam the meadows when they weren't on top of me.
so the oven is broke- a symbolic domestic nightmare which is a bit like the last straw. I will at some point contact the insurance people and go through the monotonous questions to replace it.
I am home now following a further argument about which way to drive home and then whether to stop off at family for a good supper and glass of wine or go home to watch sport (not me) carry on with domestic monotony and eat substandard take away. we go with the second choice and the cloying grease of a lazy chicken shop delivery service still sits uncomfortably in my throat.
at Footscray meadows I saw a couple canoodiling. they sat upon a bridge sharing berries from a plastic tub. legs swinging.
later as I sat with my family I saw them again passing by, they stopped to share a kiss, then went on. will it last I thought? or end in itchy annoyance and cloying discontent. will she have children clutching at her legs as she goes about her way or will they revel in youthful sweet love for eternity. who knows it is all relative anyway.
I have nothing much more to report. it is all to mundane and exceptional all at once. and so for now goodnight.
Monday, 6 August 2012
one long day at the olympiccs
we got there late after I discovered I had lost my debit card. we had no cash. shit. my mum sweetly dropped us off- me and son 14yrs and lent me , in fact gave me, 30£. fucking hell. we got there after 9am, late, - having dropped daughter 5, nephew 7 and baby 1, off with darling sister in law- who now has a migriane.
first a coke retailing usually at £1 15 max was a flat £2.50. having not eaten breakfast and blithely hoping for a five pound breakfast, we purchased the cheapest food we could find- at £3 a go croissant with mozzarella, tomato and spinach of the meanest proportions- small croissant small everything, and one with ham and cheese.....she passed it over with unashamed greasy fingers with bits on and I was so hungry and slave to that, that I took it and ate it gratefully.
A shit coffee priced on the board as £1.70 was another £2.50. two coffees and one hot chocolate down plus a coke and shitty rocky cake which tasted like shit and we were 12.50 down, plus two tiny croissants made £18.50 down. tobacco and a twix and water -pre olympic arena was £5 down -that is £23.50 down. starving by 2pm we got 1 small portion of greasy fish and chips £8.50 which we devoured while watching the rifle finals (boring- we couldn't see a thing) around us people munched on big fat rolls, sweeties and beer. by this point I was desperate for alcohol. a plastic bottle -small- of heineken lager was priced £4.50. I had £1.80 left. oh shit. so I sipped on my water while watching thousands of clay lumps get shot out of the sky. neighbouring Olympic visitors removed fifty's from their wallets and purchased ridiculous amounts of over priced shit coffee and plastic bottles of beer while I hoped someone would buy me one. they didn't, and my searching for dropped fivers ended negatively.
it was okay, but long.
the entire thing was a rip off and little did I know that I could probably have brought food in but never mind, next time aye!
Croatia beat Australia which was liberating since Australia was favourite to win. Italy came 2nd in the shot gun finals and Kuwait third. GB were out pretty early cause he kept missing. but it waws OK. it was nice watching an old Italian man and a young Italian boy in bright green (they were unrelated - I was watching) hold up together a large wind swept Italian flag while the medals were awarded.
we went to the Olympics and then I got back to the kids and there were dramas afoot. I am now shattered and on the verge of a constant nervous breakdown so good night.
first a coke retailing usually at £1 15 max was a flat £2.50. having not eaten breakfast and blithely hoping for a five pound breakfast, we purchased the cheapest food we could find- at £3 a go croissant with mozzarella, tomato and spinach of the meanest proportions- small croissant small everything, and one with ham and cheese.....she passed it over with unashamed greasy fingers with bits on and I was so hungry and slave to that, that I took it and ate it gratefully.
A shit coffee priced on the board as £1.70 was another £2.50. two coffees and one hot chocolate down plus a coke and shitty rocky cake which tasted like shit and we were 12.50 down, plus two tiny croissants made £18.50 down. tobacco and a twix and water -pre olympic arena was £5 down -that is £23.50 down. starving by 2pm we got 1 small portion of greasy fish and chips £8.50 which we devoured while watching the rifle finals (boring- we couldn't see a thing) around us people munched on big fat rolls, sweeties and beer. by this point I was desperate for alcohol. a plastic bottle -small- of heineken lager was priced £4.50. I had £1.80 left. oh shit. so I sipped on my water while watching thousands of clay lumps get shot out of the sky. neighbouring Olympic visitors removed fifty's from their wallets and purchased ridiculous amounts of over priced shit coffee and plastic bottles of beer while I hoped someone would buy me one. they didn't, and my searching for dropped fivers ended negatively.
it was okay, but long.
the entire thing was a rip off and little did I know that I could probably have brought food in but never mind, next time aye!
Croatia beat Australia which was liberating since Australia was favourite to win. Italy came 2nd in the shot gun finals and Kuwait third. GB were out pretty early cause he kept missing. but it waws OK. it was nice watching an old Italian man and a young Italian boy in bright green (they were unrelated - I was watching) hold up together a large wind swept Italian flag while the medals were awarded.
we went to the Olympics and then I got back to the kids and there were dramas afoot. I am now shattered and on the verge of a constant nervous breakdown so good night.
Sunday, 5 August 2012
i have a comment whoopppee
ok so this is really sad, but someone has actually commented on a post, and world, i feel a little less lonely. it was on a blog i wrote which mentioned bukowski the writer so i suppose i have him to thank for linking me with another human on here.
tomorrow i am watching shooting shotgun stuff at the Olympics. i hope i can buy a coffee followed by a pint. i think it may be dull but i can't wait to go.
i am half way through a nice bottle of pinot grigio. nice and cold and dry. the kids are watching bolt on tv- aka the Jamaican runner and i am looking forward to their bed time coming up shortly.
i had reiki yesterday and i think i am messed up as it left me bedraggled and exhausted, i sat still for 20 minutes or so and was 'healed' or something. i thought of my sister and felt strange heaviness as a lovely lady put her hands about me.
so long ......
tomorrow i am watching shooting shotgun stuff at the Olympics. i hope i can buy a coffee followed by a pint. i think it may be dull but i can't wait to go.
i am half way through a nice bottle of pinot grigio. nice and cold and dry. the kids are watching bolt on tv- aka the Jamaican runner and i am looking forward to their bed time coming up shortly.
i had reiki yesterday and i think i am messed up as it left me bedraggled and exhausted, i sat still for 20 minutes or so and was 'healed' or something. i thought of my sister and felt strange heaviness as a lovely lady put her hands about me.
so long ......
lots of birthdays
it has been a weekend of birthdays.... my son had two friends celebrating yesterday and my daughter one today... what was lovely was how the parents of the birthday children had wine flowing freely and generously.
on another note I have decided that in my driving experience there are some old gits in existence. i have always tried to err on the side of tolerance to humans but i have now decided there are lots of old redundant males who hate young women.
can't write any more cause kids are all over me like a rash.
on another note I have decided that in my driving experience there are some old gits in existence. i have always tried to err on the side of tolerance to humans but i have now decided there are lots of old redundant males who hate young women.
can't write any more cause kids are all over me like a rash.
Sunday, 29 July 2012
in which a ferret goes missing
it is a rather long and sorry tale that of the ferret and one I feel I may not forget.
the ferret saga is maybe over as it has once again escaped and this time may not return since it has escaped at night and like a person lost at sea at night, the likelihood of it being safe in the morn is smaller than if it escaped first thing in the morning, with the day to search and wait...to call and hope.
I never wanted the ferret. My son did. and he asked and asked and asked until at last weak with exhaustion and guilt and confusion i consented.
since the very first smell of musky sour hormonal piss; the glimpse of small sweet face and writing body i have not felt truly comfortable.
that it needs a playmate or three hours play a day, that it scratches away at it's prison door at the back of the garden... that it runs long rat like past your feet and nips... that and many other things i did not want it in my life or in my vicinity.
it has now escaped a few times from poorly constructed runs in the garden which it has inevitably escaped from. screams are heard up and down as neighbours think it is a rat. it has returned.
but maybe not this time. and though I actually feel quite sad for the ferret and lament it's loss and genuinly don't want to think of it alone again without my son to like it, I actually feel that perhaps this horrid chapter can come to an end and I will never say yes again when I don't really mean it.
the ferret saga is maybe over as it has once again escaped and this time may not return since it has escaped at night and like a person lost at sea at night, the likelihood of it being safe in the morn is smaller than if it escaped first thing in the morning, with the day to search and wait...to call and hope.
I never wanted the ferret. My son did. and he asked and asked and asked until at last weak with exhaustion and guilt and confusion i consented.
since the very first smell of musky sour hormonal piss; the glimpse of small sweet face and writing body i have not felt truly comfortable.
that it needs a playmate or three hours play a day, that it scratches away at it's prison door at the back of the garden... that it runs long rat like past your feet and nips... that and many other things i did not want it in my life or in my vicinity.
it has now escaped a few times from poorly constructed runs in the garden which it has inevitably escaped from. screams are heard up and down as neighbours think it is a rat. it has returned.
but maybe not this time. and though I actually feel quite sad for the ferret and lament it's loss and genuinly don't want to think of it alone again without my son to like it, I actually feel that perhaps this horrid chapter can come to an end and I will never say yes again when I don't really mean it.
Sunday, 15 July 2012
try to tell it like it is. i drank too much this evening. a bottle of white and a can of lager. the day was long and it consisted of avoiding my father who thinks i bring up my children and my bereaved nephew badly, that they are too free and i am to liberal. so i drink because it is all too much. my life is like something out of a Charles bukowski novel except i am not whipped on a daily basis. maybe i was when i was small. i cant remember.
ok so it's not he great depression but times are tough. money is like a constipated fountain. it doese not spring freely and there is not enough.
the people in my life are generally messes they are wrong and not right
ok so it's not he great depression but times are tough. money is like a constipated fountain. it doese not spring freely and there is not enough.
the people in my life are generally messes they are wrong and not right
you couldn't make it up
just read ham on rye (of which there was none) by charles bukowski and i now feel fairly liberated and nihilistic. i am now on a bukowski roll and will next read 'hot water music'
i really like henry chinaski and totally empathisse with him.
i think i like his drunk, tough sense of resillient nothingness.
and yet i still am a mum and a daughter and a sister and all the rest and i somehow have to be all that while inside a henry chinaski simmers.
i mean you couldn't make it up the life in which i inhabit.
i won't even write of it here it is too much, too fucked up.
i can't write the truth as the truth does hurt, yes, it hurts and i can't handle it.
and yet perhaps that would be the best thing.
but truth is never the truth it is just the view from one set of eyes.
i am too considerate to consider my view the truth.
surely each perspective considers it's view the truth?
any way
...................................
i really like henry chinaski and totally empathisse with him.
i think i like his drunk, tough sense of resillient nothingness.
and yet i still am a mum and a daughter and a sister and all the rest and i somehow have to be all that while inside a henry chinaski simmers.
i mean you couldn't make it up the life in which i inhabit.
i won't even write of it here it is too much, too fucked up.
i can't write the truth as the truth does hurt, yes, it hurts and i can't handle it.
and yet perhaps that would be the best thing.
but truth is never the truth it is just the view from one set of eyes.
i am too considerate to consider my view the truth.
surely each perspective considers it's view the truth?
any way
...................................
Monday, 9 July 2012
Wednesday, 4 July 2012
on writing
over the last few days i have wanted to write so much but have been so consumed by life and it's protuberances that the wood has been too close for the trees or something like that.
i cannot say much about the actual happenings of the days, they have been convoluted and full of small discoveries; sad awakenings; cruel facts of various kinds. then of course there has been the bread and butter kind of reality that is inescapable.
in terms of what and how i would like to convey, through writing, something and at some point, i realise i need to really find that voice inside; or really link it to my fingers. i need to be honest, like you might be to a close friend or someone you trust. i need to write like i think, or talk, and lose all inhibitions. like when you are with a friend or even with your self and no holds are barred. your thought is free and colourful, sometimes debased and sometimes divine. that is how i want to write, for better or worse. i am tired of the translator that lives somewhere between my brain and my fingers and wish to now execute that translator.
i will sleep and see if he/ she is dead in the morning.
i cannot say much about the actual happenings of the days, they have been convoluted and full of small discoveries; sad awakenings; cruel facts of various kinds. then of course there has been the bread and butter kind of reality that is inescapable.
in terms of what and how i would like to convey, through writing, something and at some point, i realise i need to really find that voice inside; or really link it to my fingers. i need to be honest, like you might be to a close friend or someone you trust. i need to write like i think, or talk, and lose all inhibitions. like when you are with a friend or even with your self and no holds are barred. your thought is free and colourful, sometimes debased and sometimes divine. that is how i want to write, for better or worse. i am tired of the translator that lives somewhere between my brain and my fingers and wish to now execute that translator.
i will sleep and see if he/ she is dead in the morning.
Saturday, 23 June 2012
my dream
was so strange and long last night. I dreamt that i went to a large and strange hospital and checked myself in as mentally unable to cope. i queued with lots of people who all seemed fine. 'you will have to stay here all night until 6 30 am' i was told, 'the fee is £12'. 'Can I leave when I want to?' I asked. 'you can, but you will be observed to see what is wrong with you' I was told. two choices lay before me. going home or checking in. I checked in. tomorrow would have to cope without me. I paid my twelve pounds from a twenty and I was given two tablets to take. then I sat in what was like a large waiting room full of people in dark casual dress, like an x factor audition waiting warehouse. I did not want to talk to anyone at all. I wanted to sit quietly and be observed. there had been a hurricane and I found my self at my sister's grave searching for the photo I had left. it had been swept away to another grave. I tried to find someone in the hospital who would remember my sister. the priest who was observing kept on watching me. I cried openly and he came to see me. 'what is wrong?' he said. I am sad I told him. I do not like these people they are all the same. the tablets you have taken should mean you have a nice time while you are here. he told me. then things will seem different in the morning. I cried and cried. I am not well, I thought. admit me. I stayed all night. the tablets made me slur and I could not talk properly. I did some errands and felt quite useful, maybe the priest will just give me a job instead I thought. maybe I am not mad, just useless. I did not get a job. I performed errands. the priest touched my arm. you will be OK he told me.
some people were not ill this was cheaper than finding a hotel for the night. they sat around singing and playing guitars.
I was back at the dark graveyard in the night, in the rain, a car nearby doors open. I kept on finding strange pictures of my sister, ones that did not look like her. I tried to make the photo right, it was still dry.
somewhere in the dream my life became a strange howling landscape with various props from my life; my childhood. I cannot remember which props but like a few toys I recall; some memories which played over and over like voices crying out from my subliminal. I could see the frame of this landscape stretching far like a grey desert; but I cannot recall the voices; objects or visual memories that were present in this, my personal disparate universe.
this dream slips away now and I can't remember the finest details, the dialogue. but when I woke and felt so sad I could not tell my sister how wonderful she is and precious, and loved, I thought of how while alive we must not forget to do this to our loved ones and to ourselves.
some people were not ill this was cheaper than finding a hotel for the night. they sat around singing and playing guitars.
I was back at the dark graveyard in the night, in the rain, a car nearby doors open. I kept on finding strange pictures of my sister, ones that did not look like her. I tried to make the photo right, it was still dry.
somewhere in the dream my life became a strange howling landscape with various props from my life; my childhood. I cannot remember which props but like a few toys I recall; some memories which played over and over like voices crying out from my subliminal. I could see the frame of this landscape stretching far like a grey desert; but I cannot recall the voices; objects or visual memories that were present in this, my personal disparate universe.
this dream slips away now and I can't remember the finest details, the dialogue. but when I woke and felt so sad I could not tell my sister how wonderful she is and precious, and loved, I thought of how while alive we must not forget to do this to our loved ones and to ourselves.
Tuesday, 12 June 2012
tears cried
tonight i cry with fresh tears for the death of my sister, my nephew's mother, my daughter's god mother my son's most amazing aunty. i cannot beleive that se has gone and it is horrible and sickening and cruel that i have to again admit it is true.
different days and different faces
how can two days be so different?
yesterday i woke up able and with different eyes
today i wake up disabled and with views distorted.
can it be the myriad of vague and strange dreams that i can never quite remember but in which so much happens?
how can each day be so different?
can not each day feel the same?
yesterday i woke up able and with different eyes
today i wake up disabled and with views distorted.
can it be the myriad of vague and strange dreams that i can never quite remember but in which so much happens?
how can each day be so different?
can not each day feel the same?
Saturday, 9 June 2012
because she could not stop for death
I have woken up today with the weight of death upon me. I think that may describe what I feel. an anxiety that sits between my eyes, in my chest and in my stomach. yesterday two relatives of sorts gave birth within hours of each other to new baby girls. the flurry of activity and newness birth always emanates even when you are not in the circle sat uncomfortably in my energy. a grief grew anew within me like a small seed which will grow and grow deep within. i feel it will grow until its stalk chokes my heart and the leaves and branches suffocate me and force their way out of my mouth through my throat.
birth, a new and hopeful moment so utterly opposite to death. death that cannot be undone.
birth feels a traitor to me this morning though these words cannot truly express what i mean.
i feel death near me. beside me on the sofa and i wish i could only feel her presence.
it is four months and 2 days since she died and the the weeks have been thick and heavy with the fog of incomprehension and disbelief. still no word from her. somehow these births and new beginnings take her further away from me. i wish that i could feel her in some way. but then god never listened either. i think today is a hard day. while some are ok today is not.
Emily Dickinson's poem (not accurately copied dash-wise)
because i could not stop for death
he kindly stopped for me
the carriage held but just ourselves
and immortality
we drove slowly- he knew no haste
and i had put away
my labour and my leisure too
for his civility
we passed the school where children strove
at recess-in the ring
we passed the fields of grazing grain
we passed the setting sun
or rather- he passed us
the dews grew quivering and chill
for only gossamer my gown
my tippet- only tulle
we paused before a house that seemed
a swelling of the ground
the roof was scarcely visible
the cornice in the ground
since then-tis centuries-and yet
feels shorter than the day
i first surmised the horses heads
were towards eternity.
my sister had a real affinity with Emily Dickinson's language and expression and i find thesae words don't comfort but somehow express the way i feel about things today.
birth, a new and hopeful moment so utterly opposite to death. death that cannot be undone.
birth feels a traitor to me this morning though these words cannot truly express what i mean.
i feel death near me. beside me on the sofa and i wish i could only feel her presence.
it is four months and 2 days since she died and the the weeks have been thick and heavy with the fog of incomprehension and disbelief. still no word from her. somehow these births and new beginnings take her further away from me. i wish that i could feel her in some way. but then god never listened either. i think today is a hard day. while some are ok today is not.
Emily Dickinson's poem (not accurately copied dash-wise)
because i could not stop for death
he kindly stopped for me
the carriage held but just ourselves
and immortality
we drove slowly- he knew no haste
and i had put away
my labour and my leisure too
for his civility
we passed the school where children strove
at recess-in the ring
we passed the fields of grazing grain
we passed the setting sun
or rather- he passed us
the dews grew quivering and chill
for only gossamer my gown
my tippet- only tulle
we paused before a house that seemed
a swelling of the ground
the roof was scarcely visible
the cornice in the ground
since then-tis centuries-and yet
feels shorter than the day
i first surmised the horses heads
were towards eternity.
my sister had a real affinity with Emily Dickinson's language and expression and i find thesae words don't comfort but somehow express the way i feel about things today.
Friday, 8 June 2012
close your eyes and it will go awayc
today i want to close my eyes and keep them closed and hope that when i open them everything that is driving me crazy will be gone. namely, clutter. everywhere i look, besides children there is mess. a kitchen cupboard hangs off its hinges and my bedroom is wall to wall piles of things....clothes....homeless stuff. my house is full of walls jutting here and there. my living room has too much furniture in it and in an attempt to persuade my other half to get a new one, i have taken the feet off my sofa and an extension of it so now it looks even shabbier and worse and a huge corner of sofa stands up in the corner of the room. the curtains look greasy and shabby. it feels like kids are everywhere.everyday i try to do things to make it feel better but nothing works.
my sister was a writer. i once told her i wanted to write but couldn't find a way to start writing. not even sure of what i wanted to say. she told me to write about moving into my house, my neighbours. i tired but never got far. i still listen to her words of advice. even recently i said to her that i had read a poem by a famous writer who i can't recall, who said, if you can't write then you are not a writer...if you don't spill words then give up trying basically. my sister said 'rubbish'. somehow her dismissal of this depressing assertion made me still hopeful that i may one day be able to unlock the writer within.
now she has gone and i just thank her for her support. even though i still can't unleash myself.
now she has gone and i just thank her for her support. even though i still can't unleash myself.
Thursday, 7 June 2012
sore tail bone ripped off toenails and painfully high phone bills
sometimes the injuries we sustain in life seem, if not so painful, then possibly metaphorical and almost symbolic.
a few weeks ago i took my children to a birthday party in a ball park. my daughter was invited so was paid for to play, my son of one did not have a wrist band and i decided to not just encourage him to play for free- i could not be rebellious today, and bought him a wrist band for near £5. having paid, i was determined for him to have some fun. inside the ball park i went with him, helping him through the 2-4 year old section, pushing him through big soft holes to crawl accross net bridges and swing on soft swings. then i sat him on my lap, and whoosh down we went to the balls waiting invitingly below. thump. the pain was deadening and blew me hot and cold. instead of what i gratefully and excitedly imagined, a soft welcome to my poor backside, my coxcyxx thudded unprotected onto the hard mat at the bottom. oeooo i yelped and went on to my knees. my head rushed with blood and i felt quite sick. i looked around to see if any one had noticed, mothers glanced up then went back to their phones. i crawled out and spent the rest of the day on strong painkillers and too much wine (we went on to a bbq) luckily there was a walking stick in the car which i used to help me get out.
so now, some two or so weeks later, my lowest spine bone hurts on sitting and hurts on rising. it hurts right now.
over the weekend, i idily pulled a toenail, as we are sometimes wont to do...it peeled neatly accross, then ahhh, it hit skin and refused to be ripped further without the threat of excruciating pain.i hobbled around for four days..with a half ripped toenail that seemed to catch on anything:discomfort in sitting, rising from sitting, and walking.
the metaphor? the symbol? both rest and action hurts in my life right now. it is difficult to find a comfortable place to be.
the next pain rung in this ladder of unfairness?
i got a basic phone from orange in May. I got a contract for 10.50 a month for 300 minutes and unlimited texts. the cost to 25th may was £5 or so. today my phone was barred from making calls. i phone them up. until you pay it will be barred they say. pay? i say what do you mean? you have gone over your minutes by 200 or so minutes they say, your bill is £158.
a heavy leaden weight sits in my stomach and i feel quite sad by life.
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
a la caravan
how to describe? I am not sure i can. as i sat on the steps of the caravan...feet in pouring rain, probably a glass of wine in my hand, a cigarette in the other... thinking how it could all be so nice .... still seeing the other me who walks stridently and healthily and happily along with happy healthy children and happy healthy man beside...who laughs and talks, is focused and successful and in control. not sitting here clutching various props to keep herself up...not struggling to tolerate the incessant needs of children and permanent activity or else! not seeking to pacify a grumpy partner who finds children noise difficult to cope with. this me, the real me cannot believe that a long weekend away from home could be so unrestful. well i suppose with the TV not working, budget meals and the pouring rain it is quite believable it could be so difficult.
i try one evening to escape. a chilled bottle of wine, a glass, a note pad.... i take the baby in his pushchair on the first calm evening to the beach where the sun starts it's setting process- filling the stony expanse of beach...estuary bed with dazzling last light and reflecting in the puddles of the river left behind.
the children see me go and follow me.. . theri playing can wait... i am please they come they can get some nature. I call my man and ask him to join us, I cannot face the three of them alone. the hope of clarity and peace fades but who knows perhaps another kind of contentment can take it's place.
he appears as i struggle with my now wide awake one year old on the pebbles, helping him to walk on the hilly stones. the other two run off on the expanse of stones and watch a small child screeching as her grandma extricates her from a muddy bit. they leave the beach with the child's wailing going on and on.
i suppose rather prematurely, I pour myself a glass of wine. the kids play in the dying sun. this could be nice. seconds later...'i am stuck in mud'... shouts my daughter with deep pleasure in her voice- she is a mud lark. but not now, i think. my partner angrily goes to wrench her out leaving her boots behind. covered in mud he storms back to the caravan. i tip away my wine and follow. defeated. and then a i sit on the caravan steps and watch the silently wailing blue gray sky with dying strings of yellow yolky sunlight free itself up to the horizon and i wonder how often in a life can a person feel so utterly powerless against the tide of life, of circumstance...of place.
home again. i am once again struck with the tedium of the day. the anxiety in my chest will not abate.
there seems to be no respite in this version of my life i wonder how the other me is getting on?
i try one evening to escape. a chilled bottle of wine, a glass, a note pad.... i take the baby in his pushchair on the first calm evening to the beach where the sun starts it's setting process- filling the stony expanse of beach...estuary bed with dazzling last light and reflecting in the puddles of the river left behind.
the children see me go and follow me.. . theri playing can wait... i am please they come they can get some nature. I call my man and ask him to join us, I cannot face the three of them alone. the hope of clarity and peace fades but who knows perhaps another kind of contentment can take it's place.
he appears as i struggle with my now wide awake one year old on the pebbles, helping him to walk on the hilly stones. the other two run off on the expanse of stones and watch a small child screeching as her grandma extricates her from a muddy bit. they leave the beach with the child's wailing going on and on.
i suppose rather prematurely, I pour myself a glass of wine. the kids play in the dying sun. this could be nice. seconds later...'i am stuck in mud'... shouts my daughter with deep pleasure in her voice- she is a mud lark. but not now, i think. my partner angrily goes to wrench her out leaving her boots behind. covered in mud he storms back to the caravan. i tip away my wine and follow. defeated. and then a i sit on the caravan steps and watch the silently wailing blue gray sky with dying strings of yellow yolky sunlight free itself up to the horizon and i wonder how often in a life can a person feel so utterly powerless against the tide of life, of circumstance...of place.
home again. i am once again struck with the tedium of the day. the anxiety in my chest will not abate.
there seems to be no respite in this version of my life i wonder how the other me is getting on?
Tuesday, 29 May 2012
a thousand thoughts
pass through my mind each day as i go about life.
I sit in toddler groups with my baby in Deptford and Brockley and feel surrounded by gaggling geese of mothers crooning at their babies and hovering near their little ones. women mostly, a few men, all shrill mostly very middle class squealing with delight or reprimand.
somehow I feel so out of place amongst them and feel rather unsympathetically , that i am in Roald Dahl's Witches convention; I suspect that beneath their wigs their scalps itch and their saliver is blue.
I try to talk to quietly to my child I cannot bear to join the shrill chorus of mothers....'no harry darling...harry....harry no darling give it back to the little girl....oh you clever boy etc. etc..' I dread someone striking up pointless conversation about children ...where you live..... yawn. but my baby loves it, he toddles here and there and picks things up and puts them down; observes and carefully presses buttons and twists handles. he loves to walk.
all the while, I think of her and how she went so sudden and so entirely and I still can scarce believe the reality of her absence.
I sit in toddler groups with my baby in Deptford and Brockley and feel surrounded by gaggling geese of mothers crooning at their babies and hovering near their little ones. women mostly, a few men, all shrill mostly very middle class squealing with delight or reprimand.
somehow I feel so out of place amongst them and feel rather unsympathetically , that i am in Roald Dahl's Witches convention; I suspect that beneath their wigs their scalps itch and their saliver is blue.
I try to talk to quietly to my child I cannot bear to join the shrill chorus of mothers....'no harry darling...harry....harry no darling give it back to the little girl....oh you clever boy etc. etc..' I dread someone striking up pointless conversation about children ...where you live..... yawn. but my baby loves it, he toddles here and there and picks things up and puts them down; observes and carefully presses buttons and twists handles. he loves to walk.
all the while, I think of her and how she went so sudden and so entirely and I still can scarce believe the reality of her absence.
Friday, 25 May 2012
another week passes by
today has been an interesting day. i woke up. son off to school. walked daughter to school. walked baby through the park and returned home. baby bored. took him to sainsbury's and carried incredibly heavy bags home making marks on my wrists. phoned friend to say I can't meet her for lunch I feel ill and baby not in good mood. I say to myself- this is your chance ..... to say no, to make a decision and stick to it. tell her you can't go. she tells me she will knock my door at 12 pm and she won't take no for an answer. I say OK. at home I desperately want to stay there. inside it is cool, outside it is hot. I don't have money for lunch. I don't want to play happy. the door knocks at 12. I get the baby and we all go to my car. I drive to Greenwich and we go to a Mexican restaurant. I order a tequila sunrise and beef enchiladas. after the tequila sunrise which tastes surprisingly strong (well it does cost £6) I feel happy and we laugh and eat our food. the bill is high. I only have £10. 'I will get some cash out I owe you £7' I say. 'did you say something?' says my date. 'did she say something?' she asks our other date. we go to Greenwich park and bask in the sun. my sister used to come and sit here in the sun. it is strangely sweet sitting with two women I hardly know who have veritably forced me out of my home to share lunch with them. 'to friendship' we toasted in the restaurant. maybe this is what friendship is. in the most unlikely places, I have never had a friend who drags me unwillingly from my home with the sole purpose of cheering me up. I think my sister would approve. I want to introduce her to them. I can't.
today my son (14) brings home a friend he's been close to but has never brought home before. he is lovely polite and sweet. they eat burgers, a girl from school pops by, she leaves, they have a fire, my nephew and daughter sit with them and they toast marshmallows. they eat cheese burgers I make them. it is nice.
tomorrow I will take my daughter, baby son and nephew to the seaside. my big son has drama and will stay behind with his step dad.....
my baby boy of gorgeousness unknown has been rejected by a modelling agency- I kind of hoped I could make an income for him and me too but I have a rejection email. I feel oddly rejected and sad they cannot recognise his beauty and also relieved I won't be making him into a pretentious model child.
well heres to another week nearly over. i find it strange how i wish the weeks away.
today my son (14) brings home a friend he's been close to but has never brought home before. he is lovely polite and sweet. they eat burgers, a girl from school pops by, she leaves, they have a fire, my nephew and daughter sit with them and they toast marshmallows. they eat cheese burgers I make them. it is nice.
tomorrow I will take my daughter, baby son and nephew to the seaside. my big son has drama and will stay behind with his step dad.....
my baby boy of gorgeousness unknown has been rejected by a modelling agency- I kind of hoped I could make an income for him and me too but I have a rejection email. I feel oddly rejected and sad they cannot recognise his beauty and also relieved I won't be making him into a pretentious model child.
well heres to another week nearly over. i find it strange how i wish the weeks away.
Saturday, 19 May 2012
never thought i'd be lke this
i don't think i ever would have allowed myself to become what i feel i have become. although if i allow for the pain of grief, maybe i am becoming consumed by it. and yet what is the opposite to that? i need to grieve. but i only want to grieve, and things that get in the way of that seem to hurt physically and emotionally.
i dreamed last night that i hugged my sister. she called me to her and said let me hug you and we hugged and said thank you to each other for sharing our time growing up as sisters. it was beautiful and i wish i could have stayed asleep and not woken up. when i awake the agony of things is unpleasant, and a messy house, or bickering children, or thinking of things to do to pass the day seem like insurmountable mountains of nastiness and stress.
what i find quite horrible is that i feel much better when no children are around me- and i have three which doesn't help! i just want to be left alone and yet the incessant whinging doesn't stop. it is like having a gun placed to the head which keeps on firing and firing and firing and firing but i am still alive.
i dreamed last night that i hugged my sister. she called me to her and said let me hug you and we hugged and said thank you to each other for sharing our time growing up as sisters. it was beautiful and i wish i could have stayed asleep and not woken up. when i awake the agony of things is unpleasant, and a messy house, or bickering children, or thinking of things to do to pass the day seem like insurmountable mountains of nastiness and stress.
what i find quite horrible is that i feel much better when no children are around me- and i have three which doesn't help! i just want to be left alone and yet the incessant whinging doesn't stop. it is like having a gun placed to the head which keeps on firing and firing and firing and firing but i am still alive.
Saturday, 12 May 2012
Life's a bitch
and then i guess you die, sometimes fast, sometimes slow.
today i can not find much to see things any other way.
life is sometimes like walking through thick mud in the dark with Wellington boots that are too big for you. with the fear of rats lurking nearby.
today i can not find much to see things any other way.
life is sometimes like walking through thick mud in the dark with Wellington boots that are too big for you. with the fear of rats lurking nearby.
Wednesday, 9 May 2012
i need therapy
i made a mistake. i allowed my son to get a ferret. i now am angry and the ferret may have become a scapegoat, or i am just angry with total justification, i do't know any more.i hate it. it is cute but it smells and anything it touches, smells. it needs three hours of playful entertainment
I have not written for some time as things have been a muddy bleak haze. I have wanted to quit writing this blog and have not stuck to my commitment to write every day. I suppose the constant misery that expounds from my 'pen' is starting to get to me.
But here I go again. As seems to be often the case my house is in a severe state. I mean, I just tripped over a back log of dirty washing in the hall way and landed on my face virtually, thus spilling my tea. I could only laugh, having spent the entire journey to pick my daughter up from school, crying over the loss of my sister.
There I lay, on the floor, tea spilt onto the dirty clothes thinking oh god what can i do this house is a death trap. there is not really anywhere to put the dirty clothes and i can only launder them so fast- though these last few days i have had some kind of insistent inability to put them away once they are clean and dry. why? because the journey upstairs is long and arduous....the stairs are in desperate need of a clean and are littered with muddy dried bits and scraps of paper, dirty clothes that are making their way downstairs.... The loo floor is grimy and piss stained, the bathroom looks like a sess pit, again littered with dirty clothes and general rubbish and the path to the kids room is littered with mess, a ferret ruined rugs and furniture that needs to be thrown. Just writing it down makes me see how I need to go and clear it and throw it all away.Its a danger to us all. why the apathy? i guess it is time. and necessity. there is only so much i can manage with a little tiny boy and stairs and piles of washing and filth that needs to be properly cleaned. i can't magic him asleep. then where i sit, the kitchen the table is high with things, homeless things and the floor is filthy -again -with mud prints and discarded food and just inevitable mess and grime.
this ranting moan is pointless but a vent nonetheless and i know it will pass and things will change. but its now that i am in it.
But here I go again. As seems to be often the case my house is in a severe state. I mean, I just tripped over a back log of dirty washing in the hall way and landed on my face virtually, thus spilling my tea. I could only laugh, having spent the entire journey to pick my daughter up from school, crying over the loss of my sister.
There I lay, on the floor, tea spilt onto the dirty clothes thinking oh god what can i do this house is a death trap. there is not really anywhere to put the dirty clothes and i can only launder them so fast- though these last few days i have had some kind of insistent inability to put them away once they are clean and dry. why? because the journey upstairs is long and arduous....the stairs are in desperate need of a clean and are littered with muddy dried bits and scraps of paper, dirty clothes that are making their way downstairs.... The loo floor is grimy and piss stained, the bathroom looks like a sess pit, again littered with dirty clothes and general rubbish and the path to the kids room is littered with mess, a ferret ruined rugs and furniture that needs to be thrown. Just writing it down makes me see how I need to go and clear it and throw it all away.Its a danger to us all. why the apathy? i guess it is time. and necessity. there is only so much i can manage with a little tiny boy and stairs and piles of washing and filth that needs to be properly cleaned. i can't magic him asleep. then where i sit, the kitchen the table is high with things, homeless things and the floor is filthy -again -with mud prints and discarded food and just inevitable mess and grime.
this ranting moan is pointless but a vent nonetheless and i know it will pass and things will change. but its now that i am in it.
Sunday, 29 April 2012
UNSURE
BEEN A LONG AND STRANGE WEEK the wheel keeps turning.
listening to nirvana my favourite (16 year old self) song which has just come on the radio 'i'm so happy- Lithium'
cut my baby's fringe this week which has turned him into a little boy.
wonder some times whether you can actually have any control over events in your life or if they actually just happen when the time is right for you?
have had vivid mental dreams this week .
good night.
listening to nirvana my favourite (16 year old self) song which has just come on the radio 'i'm so happy- Lithium'
cut my baby's fringe this week which has turned him into a little boy.
wonder some times whether you can actually have any control over events in your life or if they actually just happen when the time is right for you?
have had vivid mental dreams this week .
good night.
Monday, 23 April 2012
bed time
tired. been a long day. day time OK in many ways but evenings not so good. I see a photo of my sister and I can't possibly believe she left us. I recall the coldness and the permanence that coldness brings. my heart misses her so strongly.
Sunday, 22 April 2012
mundane versus heavenly
been up since about 7 am when significant other left for work. sun shining bright. did a quick bit of stuff in the garden all with a a view to mud reducing- just now for example my son has walked muddy foot prints into the titchy kitchen.I managed to tackle the completely covered surfaces in the kitchen and now is quite tidy, and I have piled a weeks worth of laundered not-put-away-yet clothing into piles of whom they belong to. for some reason I just can't bring myself to put them away. The London marathon is on today so am not going to venture out till about one when will take the kids to Greenwich for some Anglo Saxon/ Viking stuff. Son took the littles to the park locally with his ferret which gave me about half an hour of child free time (minus baby) which all adds up in the pot of sanity. Now they are back and upstairs with the ferret, so relatively peaceful.
baby- actually 14 months old - is drawing a picture in his high chair. I am the only one not dressed properly yet so gonna do that soon then leave after they have eaten some lunch. Why am I writing this all down, I wonder? Well in answer to that i don't know it is like taking a breath and exchanging -with myself i guess- the rather mundane activities of reality and the churning of my mind. I so often find myself in a state of acute stress and anxiety that this process is like a breather; a recap; a touch base. Plus one day I want to write something of substance and I guess the process of just writing is good for me as I don't have real time to do any thing else or to finish anything. I want to soon start creating art and posting that on my blog as that is another way to expel the mundane and its opposite- the heavenly...or the other stuff that reams between the mundane.
baby- actually 14 months old - is drawing a picture in his high chair. I am the only one not dressed properly yet so gonna do that soon then leave after they have eaten some lunch. Why am I writing this all down, I wonder? Well in answer to that i don't know it is like taking a breath and exchanging -with myself i guess- the rather mundane activities of reality and the churning of my mind. I so often find myself in a state of acute stress and anxiety that this process is like a breather; a recap; a touch base. Plus one day I want to write something of substance and I guess the process of just writing is good for me as I don't have real time to do any thing else or to finish anything. I want to soon start creating art and posting that on my blog as that is another way to expel the mundane and its opposite- the heavenly...or the other stuff that reams between the mundane.
Saturday, 21 April 2012
Let them Leap
Today started well, in that I woke up when all were sleeping and went into the garden where I sat and drank tea from a mug my sister used to give me tea in (she'd be drinking expressos in teeny weeny expresso cups while I liked a gallon of tea). That made me feel so sad. I closed my eyes to wait for some whisper in the morning breeze, some whisper from her. But when I opened my eyes the garden was unchanged and there were no whispers. I wondered if she could see me like in the films. But even that didn't provide fruit. The garden has been excreting. As if the bowels of the garden seem to bring up stuff. Some of it is brought in -like stuff we used to make the ferret a house in the shed. It is like undigested humongous piles of rubbish. Then earth sits in piles which has become sludgy, deepest blackest brown mud from the rain. Filthy toys lie amongst the odd lost, squashed and abandoned beer can and bamboo cuttings. Gunk and crap, .....sand and stones intermingle with ferret rubbish and expanding litter my son has carelessly left lying around.
I tie already-filled - sopping wet bags shut and scoop up garden shit into other bags like I am changing the garden's nappy. I have started to hate earth; or maybe just mud. I like clean good moist earth; earthy earth. I have mud. I like to make mud balls as I scoop it up and toss it where there is other mud. There is too much mud. I hate it.
Mud is a funny word. Why is it different to earth. An old friend of mine used to annoy me when she's say she needed to get mud to plant her plants. She meant compost/ soil/ earth. I feel these are different things.They aren't really, but I guess it's like 'would a rose smell as sweet by any other name' or whatever it was in Shakespeare's stuff.... Anyway, the annoyance was mild and voiceless as it seemed silly of me to pull her up on such a idiosyncratic thing, plus she was pretty messed up herself too... It was all really more of a question mark in my head.. I just didn't understand why she called compost or earth mud. Silly really .....
So I'd put on my gloves of rubber and elastic cloth and begun with the easy bags that are light and full of cuttings. I lift them one by one through the house. It is like I am in playing a vital role in the excreting process of the colon of the garden and house and, bit by bit, I carry the shit through the narrow corridor of the house until outside the front door becomes the toilet, containing huge, muddy and filthy bags of stuff that has gathered muddily in the garden plus undigested twists of metal and broken plastic things. I move silently and stealthily as I do not want to wake the kids from the precious sleep. They do not stir.
I clear the car equally of it's months of toys; paper; soggy things, sweets, clothes .. and bring those back into the house and fill the car up with the garden's shit.
When I return inside, the baby is crying panic stricken on the hip of my fourteen year old boy and the children are up. They have choclate spread sandwiches and yoghurt for breakfast then watch Spongebob Squarepants. I leave them all- including baby of 1 year with fourteen year old and I escape to the local dump- a place I like to go, the nowhere land of rubbish and unwanted things, and I toss the bags of shit into massive metal crates. Goodbye shit I think as I drag the heavy bags up the metal steps and heave them into the huge bins to settle with all the other shit from other homes and gardens. I leave the rubbish dump and get back into my now lighter car. I should go home but the freedom is almost delicious. I have only been ten minutes and radio two is playing I Feel Fine by the Beetles which I turn up loud and relish in as I drive towards the Old Kent Road. It is beautiful, the drums, the guitar, all of it is glorious and I think of my sister and seem to enjoy my tears which give some solace and some relief to the emptyness there is after her name in my mind.. the goneness.
So not to home do I go but to B and Q where I will spend money, that should be saved, on sand and pebbles and plants for the garden. Retail therapy can be truly delightful while it lasts.. As I pull in at about 9 am the car park is nice and empty compared to what it will be in a frenzied hour or two. The radio is playing the most fantastic song of brilliance The Ikettes I'm Blue- The Gong Gong Song (doobi doobi doo... so reminds me of her). I park the car , turn off the engine, close the windows and listen to it loudly in my ears.
I spend thirty pounds with gladness. Tomorrow will come and it can all wait.
I drive home fast down the Old Kent Road with the usual jerks insisting on diving in the space in front of my car so we can all sit together behind the red lights. Let them leap I think as I drive on at moderate speed. With car smugness I glide into the left lane overtaking the overtakers and swinging smoothly left into the road of The Five Bells Pub leaving them sitting in traffic going on. They probably don't even notice. But then I am not so sure on the road - for me it is sometimes as pathetically immature as the playground and these small triumphs can make it all the more enjoyable.
I get home and bathe the little kids one by one, then me. They dress and are clean. I think of taking them to the museum. They have hot Dogs from Aldi for lunch. The baby sleeps. They go upstairs to play. The museum can wait.
I tie already-filled - sopping wet bags shut and scoop up garden shit into other bags like I am changing the garden's nappy. I have started to hate earth; or maybe just mud. I like clean good moist earth; earthy earth. I have mud. I like to make mud balls as I scoop it up and toss it where there is other mud. There is too much mud. I hate it.
Mud is a funny word. Why is it different to earth. An old friend of mine used to annoy me when she's say she needed to get mud to plant her plants. She meant compost/ soil/ earth. I feel these are different things.They aren't really, but I guess it's like 'would a rose smell as sweet by any other name' or whatever it was in Shakespeare's stuff.... Anyway, the annoyance was mild and voiceless as it seemed silly of me to pull her up on such a idiosyncratic thing, plus she was pretty messed up herself too... It was all really more of a question mark in my head.. I just didn't understand why she called compost or earth mud. Silly really .....
So I'd put on my gloves of rubber and elastic cloth and begun with the easy bags that are light and full of cuttings. I lift them one by one through the house. It is like I am in playing a vital role in the excreting process of the colon of the garden and house and, bit by bit, I carry the shit through the narrow corridor of the house until outside the front door becomes the toilet, containing huge, muddy and filthy bags of stuff that has gathered muddily in the garden plus undigested twists of metal and broken plastic things. I move silently and stealthily as I do not want to wake the kids from the precious sleep. They do not stir.
I clear the car equally of it's months of toys; paper; soggy things, sweets, clothes .. and bring those back into the house and fill the car up with the garden's shit.
When I return inside, the baby is crying panic stricken on the hip of my fourteen year old boy and the children are up. They have choclate spread sandwiches and yoghurt for breakfast then watch Spongebob Squarepants. I leave them all- including baby of 1 year with fourteen year old and I escape to the local dump- a place I like to go, the nowhere land of rubbish and unwanted things, and I toss the bags of shit into massive metal crates. Goodbye shit I think as I drag the heavy bags up the metal steps and heave them into the huge bins to settle with all the other shit from other homes and gardens. I leave the rubbish dump and get back into my now lighter car. I should go home but the freedom is almost delicious. I have only been ten minutes and radio two is playing I Feel Fine by the Beetles which I turn up loud and relish in as I drive towards the Old Kent Road. It is beautiful, the drums, the guitar, all of it is glorious and I think of my sister and seem to enjoy my tears which give some solace and some relief to the emptyness there is after her name in my mind.. the goneness.
So not to home do I go but to B and Q where I will spend money, that should be saved, on sand and pebbles and plants for the garden. Retail therapy can be truly delightful while it lasts.. As I pull in at about 9 am the car park is nice and empty compared to what it will be in a frenzied hour or two. The radio is playing the most fantastic song of brilliance The Ikettes I'm Blue- The Gong Gong Song (doobi doobi doo... so reminds me of her). I park the car , turn off the engine, close the windows and listen to it loudly in my ears.
I spend thirty pounds with gladness. Tomorrow will come and it can all wait.
I drive home fast down the Old Kent Road with the usual jerks insisting on diving in the space in front of my car so we can all sit together behind the red lights. Let them leap I think as I drive on at moderate speed. With car smugness I glide into the left lane overtaking the overtakers and swinging smoothly left into the road of The Five Bells Pub leaving them sitting in traffic going on. They probably don't even notice. But then I am not so sure on the road - for me it is sometimes as pathetically immature as the playground and these small triumphs can make it all the more enjoyable.
I get home and bathe the little kids one by one, then me. They dress and are clean. I think of taking them to the museum. They have hot Dogs from Aldi for lunch. The baby sleeps. They go upstairs to play. The museum can wait.
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