This is my first day of doing nothing and boy was it good? Oh yes! I did crochet 100gms onto a blanket while watching telly but that doesn’t count – I can do that with my eyes shut and it only took an hour. I feel as if I’ve been eating all day; I’ve had meals, even pudding – all from New Year’s Eve leftovers. My first dinner party in the new flat was successful even though there was a hitch with the mashed potatoes. Five grandchildren and their parents around my little drop-leaf table; I need to get a board to make it bigger for next time.
Time has disappeared under all this house-moving, decorating, xmas, new year and birthdays - we have three birthdays: 20th 24th and 26th. Power Ranger turned 6 on the 20th and had a family party with all his cousins there; it was pretty mental. When I was a child we were all shy about dancing, either by ourselves or in a group – especially the boys. You should’ve seen these boys go; number-one grandson, Bouncer, suggested a dance-off and they were up birling and twirling, legs all over the place, elbows jigging, faces twisting… I was ill laughing, but I made a terrible judge. I could knock a couple out but couldn’t make the choice at the end. Stunningly noisy.
So, I’m trying to set myself some routines, one of which is swimming or/and aqua aerobics, but the main ones have to be writing and art – I’ve just gotta get myself under some kind of control; I can feel life drifting under the front door!
My friend, Oracle, is beginning a new job tomorrow; I wish him well but will miss him at work so much. Even at work, I need to conduct my spare time when I’m not on the phone; I’m going to set myself some writing tasks – I think everyone has a blanket so I should stop crocheting, for now.
Right, that’s me sorted. All I have to do is do what I’m told, what’s expected of me.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Sunday, December 14, 2008
DECOR
My bedroom is painted! I considered a blue ceiling so I could sprinkle it with stars but decided that I couldn’t afford it and would have to make do with white, and with that in mind I pulled out the huge bucket of emulsion I got from Tilly; it was half-full – I figured it would be enough for a couple of ceilings. It turned out to be pink, lilac actually – I should’ve remembered that there was no white in her house. I am sooooo pleased with my lilac room; there was the exact amount I needed for the whole room. Perfect.
I laid the floor tiles I’d got from the pound shop, under the bed and around the edges of the room; I’ve been given off-cuts of cream carpet that will lie very happily in the middle and keep my feet cosy in the cold night air. So, the whole room will have cost me just £10 to decorate, which tickles my sensibilities.
Now all I have to do is find my trinkets and bobbles to round the room off – make it mine. Someone gave me a pack of luminous stars and moon but I have no idea where they are. It’ll be nice to have curtains up at the window – it would’ve been a waste energy putting up temps…and I’m not getting up to anything interesting, though I was scraping walls above the windows in my nightdress.
God I’m knackered and think I’ll slope off to bed now, for a wee read before some lovely sleep in my almost-beautiful bedroom.
I laid the floor tiles I’d got from the pound shop, under the bed and around the edges of the room; I’ve been given off-cuts of cream carpet that will lie very happily in the middle and keep my feet cosy in the cold night air. So, the whole room will have cost me just £10 to decorate, which tickles my sensibilities.
Now all I have to do is find my trinkets and bobbles to round the room off – make it mine. Someone gave me a pack of luminous stars and moon but I have no idea where they are. It’ll be nice to have curtains up at the window – it would’ve been a waste energy putting up temps…and I’m not getting up to anything interesting, though I was scraping walls above the windows in my nightdress.
God I’m knackered and think I’ll slope off to bed now, for a wee read before some lovely sleep in my almost-beautiful bedroom.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
HOME
When I lived in Spain I had my own beach - this is my loch, and it's within walking distance of my new flat...not that I would consider walking. I feel as if the mountain is within grabbing distance, but I would only go up it as far as the highest car-park. Loch Lomond and Ben Lomond all covered in snow, this close, just make life almost perfect.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
BEING A GRANNY FOR 3 HOURS
They use my car as a toy, these boyz from hell!
Off in all directions - which one will hit the sea first?
Out of the car and straight up a wall turning me into a serious complainer!
Jackets off and get stuck in there - where's the nearest dirt?Thursday, December 04, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
SERENDIPITY
We were rolling along Great Western Road, keeping an eye out for the chairs we’d seen sitting by the roadside on our way out earlier; me and number-one son, Toc-Toc, had gone to pick up a lovely big telly from ZaZa, which sat very nicely in Clio’s boot and would look wonderful in the corner of my living room. So, as I turned from Anniesland Cross I glanced across the road and at the same time we both said,
‘There’s a silver TV stand over there.’
TocToc was out of the car and over the dual carriageway in a flash – I taught him well. As we’d passed through the edge of the city centre we caught sight of a little plastic table and bench, all red and yellow, for a child; it was still there on the way back too and we stopped so he could pick it up. A car full of free stuff just fills my heart with joy!
But the shape of this living room is driving me crazy; I can’t get the furniture to sit right in it at all, and the only whole wall has a radiator in the middle of it! I got TocToc to move the telly into the little nook by the old, previously fireplace wall but I think I’ll have to call him back to move it again – I’ll have one more try tomorrow before I ask him. I enjoyed my day with him; I hardly spend any time with him because he talks like a socially-starved automaton, and he’s a back-seat driver.
Afterwards, he directed me to a country road between Renton and Cardross across a moor, complete with cattle grids, and the views were wonderful. Ben Lomond is topped with snow and what a sight it is. The view of it from my window is obstructed by an ugly block of flats – as I turn into my road, just about thirty yards away, it rears up into the wintry sky like something from a postcard, right in front of me, a mountain all snowy and real almost within grasp of my city-girl eyes. I will take some photos and post them – even the ugly flats.
‘There’s a silver TV stand over there.’
TocToc was out of the car and over the dual carriageway in a flash – I taught him well. As we’d passed through the edge of the city centre we caught sight of a little plastic table and bench, all red and yellow, for a child; it was still there on the way back too and we stopped so he could pick it up. A car full of free stuff just fills my heart with joy!
But the shape of this living room is driving me crazy; I can’t get the furniture to sit right in it at all, and the only whole wall has a radiator in the middle of it! I got TocToc to move the telly into the little nook by the old, previously fireplace wall but I think I’ll have to call him back to move it again – I’ll have one more try tomorrow before I ask him. I enjoyed my day with him; I hardly spend any time with him because he talks like a socially-starved automaton, and he’s a back-seat driver.
Afterwards, he directed me to a country road between Renton and Cardross across a moor, complete with cattle grids, and the views were wonderful. Ben Lomond is topped with snow and what a sight it is. The view of it from my window is obstructed by an ugly block of flats – as I turn into my road, just about thirty yards away, it rears up into the wintry sky like something from a postcard, right in front of me, a mountain all snowy and real almost within grasp of my city-girl eyes. I will take some photos and post them – even the ugly flats.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
RETURN OF THE WOMAN IN WAITING
The fridge is dead! Well that didn’t last long, did it? I expected longer than a month for my fifteen quid. I had a cup of tea and worried about the food that I’d have to re-home for a while; everything in the freezer was soft already so it must have happened last night or could’ve been days ago for all I notice stuff like that. So, I eventually got up and had a look at the plug, thinking that I’d check the fuse – that’s when I realised that I was holding the microwave plug and that the fridge was unplugged.
Now that’s the kind of thing that happens when the assigned electrical sockets don’t work and you have to move stuff around; the fridge plug was stretched across so that I had to keep pulling plugs out whenever I wanted to use the toaster or microwave… and the washing-machine is sticking out so the plug can reach another socket above the counter. I am a woman in waiting, again; waiting for the workmen to come out and plaster, remove gas pipes sticking out of the living room floor from an old fire, and of course the electrical sockets in the kitchen.
But I do love my new wee flat and I apologise for being absent from this blog for so long. As I moved in, I was furiously writing, keeping up with the National Novel Writing Month, and trying to compile the photo album for my sister-in-law’s friend – I fell behind on the Nano but eventually finished the album. I’ve got into the habit of painting a couple of doors while still in my nightdress – there are a lot of doors, seven of them in the hall and previously painted a very dark pink so now need two coats in order to cover it; that makes fourteen doors, just in the hall! I hate painting doors but I’m a quick worker and am half-way there, thank God.
I’m still moving, still picking up bags from Musician’s flat on my way to work and wondering if I’ll get the bookshelves in the lovely wee car – I got my bed in it! Who would ever have thought that you could get a single bed in a Clio?
Now that’s the kind of thing that happens when the assigned electrical sockets don’t work and you have to move stuff around; the fridge plug was stretched across so that I had to keep pulling plugs out whenever I wanted to use the toaster or microwave… and the washing-machine is sticking out so the plug can reach another socket above the counter. I am a woman in waiting, again; waiting for the workmen to come out and plaster, remove gas pipes sticking out of the living room floor from an old fire, and of course the electrical sockets in the kitchen.
But I do love my new wee flat and I apologise for being absent from this blog for so long. As I moved in, I was furiously writing, keeping up with the National Novel Writing Month, and trying to compile the photo album for my sister-in-law’s friend – I fell behind on the Nano but eventually finished the album. I’ve got into the habit of painting a couple of doors while still in my nightdress – there are a lot of doors, seven of them in the hall and previously painted a very dark pink so now need two coats in order to cover it; that makes fourteen doors, just in the hall! I hate painting doors but I’m a quick worker and am half-way there, thank God.
I’m still moving, still picking up bags from Musician’s flat on my way to work and wondering if I’ll get the bookshelves in the lovely wee car – I got my bed in it! Who would ever have thought that you could get a single bed in a Clio?
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Thursday, November 06, 2008
NANO RULES
Just a little extract from the novel I'm working on for National Novel-writing Month:
***************************************
I wish I’d stopped drinking last night when I said I would; working with a hangover would be interminable, especially with Marlow yammering on about the evils of anything other than red wine. Elegance is a bottle of the most expensive red you can afford, according to him. Well, it was beer or nothing last night. I’m fed up being piss-poor.
The shower always made me gasp and moan; the weight of wet hair down my back equalled pure ecstasy. It battered my hangover into submission and I felt more myself as I clambered out of the bath – I’ve never been elegant. An image of Frankie and his pet policeman forced itself into my head; he was driving me mental, this son of Satan – a true teenager, and definitely not my favourite child at the moment. Everyone said he would grow out of it, that he’d be a fine man – yeah right.
My first call was Moaning Millie; she wanted her mother to help her with her new baby – wasn’t that what a mother did? She whined that she was tired and had expected her mother to come clean the house, take over so she could sleep. I didn’t tell her that her mother had probably had enough of her and her sister to last a lifetime and was now in clover with her own little flat and piles of peace, contentment and bloody freedom!
Marlow smirked from his booth. He sat there surrounded by all kinds of balms, stones and healthy spiritual stuff; Dr Witch, I called him – he never moved from his place and we spun around him like the little satellites from his very own solar system.
‘Don’t even think it.’ I said.
‘I would’ve thought you’d have found something more interesting than alcohol by now.’
‘Shut up.’
‘I know what you’re going to say next; It was Jess’ fault. Now isn’t that right?’
‘You said that, not me – and I was not thinking it.’ I couldn’t look at him because he was always right. ‘Bitch.’
‘Patsy you’re a patsy.’
‘Yeah well. Jess is bad; she thinks she’s a terrible mother.’
‘She is.’
‘She is not…and you don’t know her. Well maybe you do, but you weren’t there. It’s too easy for the childless masses to slag single parents off – they haven’t got a clue. We’d be better off in Huxley’s Brave New World; created in test-tubes and grown in jars for nurseries somewhere distant. I don’t think we should be parents at all; we’re all bad, selfish and stupid.’
‘You’re in a lovely mood this hangover, aren’t you?’ he dug into his bag and offered me a French Fancy.
I couldn’t get Frankie out of my mind, wondering if he was smoking wacky-backy or breaking into some empty factory for lead and copper. He was supposed to be in his room studying and watching TV – he was probably talking on my landline but not to mobiles; I’d had them banned, so at least he wasn’t costing me too much money. Bella would keep an eye on him; she was a terrier when she started. That was the only fault with this job; I liked working at night because it stopped me wasting my time in front of the box but it meant that I wasn’t there to supervise my wayward son – but he was sixteen; he should be part-way sensible by now. I prayed he didn’t turn into a Hoodie, and wouldn’t buy him anything with a hood on it – not even a jacket!
***************************************
I wish I’d stopped drinking last night when I said I would; working with a hangover would be interminable, especially with Marlow yammering on about the evils of anything other than red wine. Elegance is a bottle of the most expensive red you can afford, according to him. Well, it was beer or nothing last night. I’m fed up being piss-poor.
The shower always made me gasp and moan; the weight of wet hair down my back equalled pure ecstasy. It battered my hangover into submission and I felt more myself as I clambered out of the bath – I’ve never been elegant. An image of Frankie and his pet policeman forced itself into my head; he was driving me mental, this son of Satan – a true teenager, and definitely not my favourite child at the moment. Everyone said he would grow out of it, that he’d be a fine man – yeah right.
My first call was Moaning Millie; she wanted her mother to help her with her new baby – wasn’t that what a mother did? She whined that she was tired and had expected her mother to come clean the house, take over so she could sleep. I didn’t tell her that her mother had probably had enough of her and her sister to last a lifetime and was now in clover with her own little flat and piles of peace, contentment and bloody freedom!
Marlow smirked from his booth. He sat there surrounded by all kinds of balms, stones and healthy spiritual stuff; Dr Witch, I called him – he never moved from his place and we spun around him like the little satellites from his very own solar system.
‘Don’t even think it.’ I said.
‘I would’ve thought you’d have found something more interesting than alcohol by now.’
‘Shut up.’
‘I know what you’re going to say next; It was Jess’ fault. Now isn’t that right?’
‘You said that, not me – and I was not thinking it.’ I couldn’t look at him because he was always right. ‘Bitch.’
‘Patsy you’re a patsy.’
‘Yeah well. Jess is bad; she thinks she’s a terrible mother.’
‘She is.’
‘She is not…and you don’t know her. Well maybe you do, but you weren’t there. It’s too easy for the childless masses to slag single parents off – they haven’t got a clue. We’d be better off in Huxley’s Brave New World; created in test-tubes and grown in jars for nurseries somewhere distant. I don’t think we should be parents at all; we’re all bad, selfish and stupid.’
‘You’re in a lovely mood this hangover, aren’t you?’ he dug into his bag and offered me a French Fancy.
I couldn’t get Frankie out of my mind, wondering if he was smoking wacky-backy or breaking into some empty factory for lead and copper. He was supposed to be in his room studying and watching TV – he was probably talking on my landline but not to mobiles; I’d had them banned, so at least he wasn’t costing me too much money. Bella would keep an eye on him; she was a terrier when she started. That was the only fault with this job; I liked working at night because it stopped me wasting my time in front of the box but it meant that I wasn’t there to supervise my wayward son – but he was sixteen; he should be part-way sensible by now. I prayed he didn’t turn into a Hoodie, and wouldn’t buy him anything with a hood on it – not even a jacket!
Sunday, October 26, 2008
TOO MUCH LIFE
Over the past couple of weeks I've been through a multitude of family gatherings; a birth, a funeral and a wedding - though the wedding was my sister-in-law's friend and I was the photographer. The weather was awful, the worst imaginable; tons of rain, coming in waves and drains blocked with leaves; there were floods everywhere - I was terrified that my wee Clio would just phut-phut out in the middle of one of them, but she's a star.
So now, I have to present myself at a 20s soiree, wearing beads, for a friend's birthday. All this socialization is a bit too much for me...and, tomorrow I have to go meet a pile of writers doing Nano! But that's different, I'll socialise with writers anytime.
My daughter called me last night, just as I arrived back from the wedding, looking forward to my night of CSI stuff. Could I run her over to somewhere on the edge of the planet because she couldn't afford a taxi. So there I was, spending my night in a car, lost, with her on the phone (my phone) to drunk friends who didn't know where they lived or were unable to verbalise it!
This common life is too much for me; I want to be a hermit again.
So now, I have to present myself at a 20s soiree, wearing beads, for a friend's birthday. All this socialization is a bit too much for me...and, tomorrow I have to go meet a pile of writers doing Nano! But that's different, I'll socialise with writers anytime.
My daughter called me last night, just as I arrived back from the wedding, looking forward to my night of CSI stuff. Could I run her over to somewhere on the edge of the planet because she couldn't afford a taxi. So there I was, spending my night in a car, lost, with her on the phone (my phone) to drunk friends who didn't know where they lived or were unable to verbalise it!
This common life is too much for me; I want to be a hermit again.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
A WOMAN-IN-WAITING
10 days off work, spent away from the television and in front of arty projects I can sell either on ebay or in local shops – that lies ahead of me. But, November is National Novel-writing Month, so I’ll need to do that too. How am I going to get this lazy old body to take part in all these things?
If only I could be dragged through this creative mud, wouldn’t it be fabulous? It might change my life completely and I would be completely delirious – why can’t I set it up? I tell people all the time to make changes in their lives, sometimes five or six times a night; I must take my own advice.
Life with the car is better because I get more things squeezed into the hours in my day, when I can be bothered and if I don’t take any notice of the weather – which is howling behind my head as I type, so I might not go to the garage and have two new back tires. I can’t stay here till it’s time for work because there’s no food; shopping is a necessity.
The fact that I’m living in a junk shop, surrounded by bags and boxes of stuff doesn’t make me get up and tidy it; that would be wasted effort because it’s going to be moved soon enough. My bed is an island in a sea of God-knows-what and I’m waiting, waiting, waiting for the phone call about the keys of my new flat.
The thought of paid holiday is very exciting but I’m pulled down by imagining all the intrusions; if I’m not careful I’ll spend it all doing things for other people and not arty-crafting and writing. I’ll wave my magic wand and forbid myself from running family around; I’ll get up early and have long, long days; I’ll wander around the loch taking pictures, notes and pick up leaves for art.
Only time will tell, but there might be some interesting posts as I beat myself up…and, I think I’m going to take the bluebeard novel to Nano – there’s loads of sex in that, so there might be little clips of that! But now I have to go out in that weather for lovely food.
If only I could be dragged through this creative mud, wouldn’t it be fabulous? It might change my life completely and I would be completely delirious – why can’t I set it up? I tell people all the time to make changes in their lives, sometimes five or six times a night; I must take my own advice.
Life with the car is better because I get more things squeezed into the hours in my day, when I can be bothered and if I don’t take any notice of the weather – which is howling behind my head as I type, so I might not go to the garage and have two new back tires. I can’t stay here till it’s time for work because there’s no food; shopping is a necessity.
The fact that I’m living in a junk shop, surrounded by bags and boxes of stuff doesn’t make me get up and tidy it; that would be wasted effort because it’s going to be moved soon enough. My bed is an island in a sea of God-knows-what and I’m waiting, waiting, waiting for the phone call about the keys of my new flat.
The thought of paid holiday is very exciting but I’m pulled down by imagining all the intrusions; if I’m not careful I’ll spend it all doing things for other people and not arty-crafting and writing. I’ll wave my magic wand and forbid myself from running family around; I’ll get up early and have long, long days; I’ll wander around the loch taking pictures, notes and pick up leaves for art.
Only time will tell, but there might be some interesting posts as I beat myself up…and, I think I’m going to take the bluebeard novel to Nano – there’s loads of sex in that, so there might be little clips of that! But now I have to go out in that weather for lovely food.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
WOMEN-IN-TRAINING
My dead friend’s daughter has started blogging, and is posting her childhood diaries; she’s just reminded me of a scene between me and Roseanne in Manchester. We were both pregnant; I was six weeks ahead of her, relaxing after a bath one evening, when her husband came panicking at my door.
‘She needs you. You have to come right now.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘She’s locked herself in the bathroom. I don't know what's wrong with her.’ For all the rush to get me up there he didn't seem really worried. She was standing up, moving around and not in any pain.
So I got dressed and followed him up the road, and it was quite a walk. When I arrived she dragged me into the bathroom and pulled out a breast.
‘Look at this!’ she squeezed the nipple and little white bubbles appeared.
‘Oh, it must be milk,’ I said. We stood there, glued to the spot, wondering at this change – I don’t think she was even showing then, must’ve only been a few months. ‘You’ve dragged me out of the bath for that?’
Innocents abroad didn’t do us justice; we were twenty-two in 1976 and hell-bent on living life. We’d met a pregnant woman and wanted to be just like her – and that was that; we told our men that babies were on the menu and they had no say in the matter. Unfortunately, some months later, I decided I didn’t want to spend my life with this particular man and orchestrated an argument so I could walk out with no comeback.
Stupid, dumb but definitely not blonde, we stumbled through that year; she got married and gave birth, I gave birth and got married (to a different man). We knew nothing about ourselves or our bodies and were disgusted when a midwife suggested we breastfeed – it wasn’t fashionable then and we thought she must be from the 19th century. I don’t know how we survived…how the kids survived us is a miracle!
‘She needs you. You have to come right now.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘She’s locked herself in the bathroom. I don't know what's wrong with her.’ For all the rush to get me up there he didn't seem really worried. She was standing up, moving around and not in any pain.
So I got dressed and followed him up the road, and it was quite a walk. When I arrived she dragged me into the bathroom and pulled out a breast.
‘Look at this!’ she squeezed the nipple and little white bubbles appeared.
‘Oh, it must be milk,’ I said. We stood there, glued to the spot, wondering at this change – I don’t think she was even showing then, must’ve only been a few months. ‘You’ve dragged me out of the bath for that?’
Innocents abroad didn’t do us justice; we were twenty-two in 1976 and hell-bent on living life. We’d met a pregnant woman and wanted to be just like her – and that was that; we told our men that babies were on the menu and they had no say in the matter. Unfortunately, some months later, I decided I didn’t want to spend my life with this particular man and orchestrated an argument so I could walk out with no comeback.
Stupid, dumb but definitely not blonde, we stumbled through that year; she got married and gave birth, I gave birth and got married (to a different man). We knew nothing about ourselves or our bodies and were disgusted when a midwife suggested we breastfeed – it wasn’t fashionable then and we thought she must be from the 19th century. I don’t know how we survived…how the kids survived us is a miracle!
Monday, October 20, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
ANGER V DELIGHT
Angry? Try furious. That was something I never want to repeat; listening to a priest pontificate about religious politics during a funeral service. This doddering old man wandered across the scriptures to give himself a jumping-off place so he could rant about the credit crunch and how greedy people were for wanting more and more money - what did that have to do with Anne's life? I think he mentioned her twice; some of the family missed it!
His actions took all emotion out of the situation - maybe that was the intention; keep everyone from crying and breaking down in his church; make sure they are sufficiently bored, intoxicated, fused into a stupor. I know I'm coming from the Heathen point of view, but I am a connoisseur of funerals and have listened to some wonderful services - I know what I'm talking about.
So, it's best to change the subject - Lily is here! My poor niece struggled to give birth for days and eventually, on Sunday night - 35 minutes from Monday, Lily made her beautiful appearance, and boy is she pretty. Two weeks early and not a wrinkle in sight: smooth and gorgeous she is...and a sleeper! I spent an hour with her yesterday and she didn't open her eyes once. There was a real panic on Sunday night and worry for my niece; the baby was always all right. We've had the bad side of pre-eclampsia before when my sister-in-law, Sid, nearly died and lost her new son in the struggle. So it was a very tense time.
Lily was my mother-in-law's name; it's lovely to see it revived.
His actions took all emotion out of the situation - maybe that was the intention; keep everyone from crying and breaking down in his church; make sure they are sufficiently bored, intoxicated, fused into a stupor. I know I'm coming from the Heathen point of view, but I am a connoisseur of funerals and have listened to some wonderful services - I know what I'm talking about.
So, it's best to change the subject - Lily is here! My poor niece struggled to give birth for days and eventually, on Sunday night - 35 minutes from Monday, Lily made her beautiful appearance, and boy is she pretty. Two weeks early and not a wrinkle in sight: smooth and gorgeous she is...and a sleeper! I spent an hour with her yesterday and she didn't open her eyes once. There was a real panic on Sunday night and worry for my niece; the baby was always all right. We've had the bad side of pre-eclampsia before when my sister-in-law, Sid, nearly died and lost her new son in the struggle. So it was a very tense time.
Lily was my mother-in-law's name; it's lovely to see it revived.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
BIRTH V DEATH
Oooh X-factor is back and aren’t they just fabulous? I love Austen, and Laura and Diane, and Alexandria. Me and my sister-in-law watching together in our own homes, texting what we love and hate…we hate Daniel. He seems a nice guy but I don’t know why he’s there; I think there were quite a few would’ve done better in his place. I feel that the judges were diverted by his sob story; I’m surprised at Simon, but then it wasn’t his choice to bring him to the live shows.
And…he made it through, though I knew that the girl groups were the weakest of the bunch; individually they’re good but they’re all over the place. I feel a bit like that. I was driving home from Asda last night and suddenly Anne’s death hit me; we’ve all been a little matter-of-fact about it and haven’t taken the time to really think. I found myself crying in the car as I turned into my street, and it wasn’t the music, it was just time it caught up with me. Oh the weeping and wailing will turn up smack on time tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.
My sister-in-law, Sid, said she can’t drive; she is quite aware of how grief bounces back and back. Her driving test triumph was only a fortnight ago so it wouldn’t be a good idea for her. I bought my son, Musician, a new black jacket. TocToc will be stuck in Loch Lomond, his kids are off this week. Musician came out with age-old complaint, ‘Why is it we only see people at funerals?’ It is an awful truth.
My 19yr old niece is labouring as we speak – one in and one out, isn’t that always the way? And tomorrow is my eldest child’s birthday; that’s another reason why he doesn’t want to come to the funeral; he wants to spend his birthday with his family, and he hasn’t seen Anne for a couple of years. I won’t be able to forget the date of this funeral. Just think of the mixed tears from that birth and death, and Anne’s son left alone in the world – though he’s still got all of us, but is now forced to be a man on his own at twenty-seven. Whoever said life was easy?
UPDATE:
It's a girl - it was difficult - dangerous; pre-eclampsia but i think all is well, for now.
And…he made it through, though I knew that the girl groups were the weakest of the bunch; individually they’re good but they’re all over the place. I feel a bit like that. I was driving home from Asda last night and suddenly Anne’s death hit me; we’ve all been a little matter-of-fact about it and haven’t taken the time to really think. I found myself crying in the car as I turned into my street, and it wasn’t the music, it was just time it caught up with me. Oh the weeping and wailing will turn up smack on time tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.
My sister-in-law, Sid, said she can’t drive; she is quite aware of how grief bounces back and back. Her driving test triumph was only a fortnight ago so it wouldn’t be a good idea for her. I bought my son, Musician, a new black jacket. TocToc will be stuck in Loch Lomond, his kids are off this week. Musician came out with age-old complaint, ‘Why is it we only see people at funerals?’ It is an awful truth.
My 19yr old niece is labouring as we speak – one in and one out, isn’t that always the way? And tomorrow is my eldest child’s birthday; that’s another reason why he doesn’t want to come to the funeral; he wants to spend his birthday with his family, and he hasn’t seen Anne for a couple of years. I won’t be able to forget the date of this funeral. Just think of the mixed tears from that birth and death, and Anne’s son left alone in the world – though he’s still got all of us, but is now forced to be a man on his own at twenty-seven. Whoever said life was easy?
UPDATE:
It's a girl - it was difficult - dangerous; pre-eclampsia but i think all is well, for now.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
DEATH IS ON THE MOVE
I have moved out of my hermit phase, at last, and am now trawling the roads with Clio, the lovely wee car. I even went visiting the Pollok mob today and turned back into the wonderful sister-in-law I used to be; picking people up, dropping them off, chatting to small great nephews and neices - taking part in this life. A fabulous day wrapped itself around me: we gossipped, laughed, complemented, lied and were forced to keep crying at bay; the crying will have to wait for the funeral.
A sister-in-law died last night. She's been fighting cancer all year but it brought her down in a real hurry. I didn't know she was ill, and we're all feeling guilty because we thought time was infinite and that she'd always be there - no-one had given the cancer any importance. She was only forty-six. Like me, she was an ex-sister-in-law; the family can't get rid of the ex-wives the brothers collect. In this family, you're included from the beginning and you stay as long as you want, but you're always family, and the children multiply like rabbits.
I really hate funerals and am not a death-visitor in general; I've got to be very attached to attend them these days - there have been far too many in my life. So, we're glad of the two extra drivers and cars of the past week; I just got my wee Clio on Wednesday and a sister-in-law, Sid, just passed her driving test, so she's running around in her Micra now, free as a bird - well one with a husband and two kids!
And now we wait. I don't think we're in full-death-throes; the usual search for mass-black-suits for the boys and black ties. One year I had to make a dozen black ties; we were too poor to buy them. I suppose some of them will leak out of cupboards. I think we're saving the hysterics for the day of the service; usually the first sight of a hearse and we're off. God I hate crying in public. I just hate crying; I want to make peace, make everything and everyone better. The years fly by and the deaths pile up; we've had four years free of them, something had to give.
A sister-in-law died last night. She's been fighting cancer all year but it brought her down in a real hurry. I didn't know she was ill, and we're all feeling guilty because we thought time was infinite and that she'd always be there - no-one had given the cancer any importance. She was only forty-six. Like me, she was an ex-sister-in-law; the family can't get rid of the ex-wives the brothers collect. In this family, you're included from the beginning and you stay as long as you want, but you're always family, and the children multiply like rabbits.
I really hate funerals and am not a death-visitor in general; I've got to be very attached to attend them these days - there have been far too many in my life. So, we're glad of the two extra drivers and cars of the past week; I just got my wee Clio on Wednesday and a sister-in-law, Sid, just passed her driving test, so she's running around in her Micra now, free as a bird - well one with a husband and two kids!
And now we wait. I don't think we're in full-death-throes; the usual search for mass-black-suits for the boys and black ties. One year I had to make a dozen black ties; we were too poor to buy them. I suppose some of them will leak out of cupboards. I think we're saving the hysterics for the day of the service; usually the first sight of a hearse and we're off. God I hate crying in public. I just hate crying; I want to make peace, make everything and everyone better. The years fly by and the deaths pile up; we've had four years free of them, something had to give.
Friday, September 26, 2008
A REVIEW
A lovely thing happened on my way to the blog; someone had been in for a browse and left this comment: ‘Stubblejumpers Cafe said... Hi Irene, Your blog is featured this week at Stubblejumpers. Kate.’ Now, isn’t that nice? So I went along and discovered this wonderful site with an amazing range of stuff:
Tarot readings, with real questions, from real people; reviews of blogs, books; from a Shaman to roast suckling-pig, the mixture is heady and wonderful. I was so enamoured of her site that I popped over and got one of my own; I mean, they offered it free!
It’s different from a blog in that it doesn’t move; it’ll stay exactly where you put it, no matter how much you add to it – you can control that part of your life at least. I’ve been playing and procrastinating over there ever since and now have a lovely new website/showcase for my meanderings which links to all my blogs.
But, How is the novel going? I hear you ask. Well, I saw it last week and it was fine, just kind of hanging out, chillin’, but not allowing stress in the door. It was waiting for a boat trip because Loch Lomond is an adventure that needs to get underway before anything else can be done.
I’m anticipating the arrival of my new wee car (new to me) and the keys to my new flat; I’m suspended, frozen in time, surfing until I’m invisible – just waiting. You could say I’m pregnant and paused.
Tarot readings, with real questions, from real people; reviews of blogs, books; from a Shaman to roast suckling-pig, the mixture is heady and wonderful. I was so enamoured of her site that I popped over and got one of my own; I mean, they offered it free!
It’s different from a blog in that it doesn’t move; it’ll stay exactly where you put it, no matter how much you add to it – you can control that part of your life at least. I’ve been playing and procrastinating over there ever since and now have a lovely new website/showcase for my meanderings which links to all my blogs.
But, How is the novel going? I hear you ask. Well, I saw it last week and it was fine, just kind of hanging out, chillin’, but not allowing stress in the door. It was waiting for a boat trip because Loch Lomond is an adventure that needs to get underway before anything else can be done.
I’m anticipating the arrival of my new wee car (new to me) and the keys to my new flat; I’m suspended, frozen in time, surfing until I’m invisible – just waiting. You could say I’m pregnant and paused.
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