...that has been the question for some time now. For the last few years I have become a prolific reader, having spent my teenage years and early adulthood pursuing other interests, boys/men, mainly. Then there was alcohol, clubbing, marriage, home building, motherhood and climbing the career (such as it is) ladder (well, more recently, not so much climbing, more hanging on for grim death really)
All worthwhile pursuits, I'm sure you would agree, but, apart from the odd jackie Collins while on holiday, reading did not figure much in my life for many years.
It was not always so. I loved English at school. More than that...I was good at it. I remember very well the first time I entered my local library, having been given my first 'project' at primary school. 'Research The History of Fashion' was the monumental task my classmates and I were given, and I tackled it with gusto.
Pre Internet (pre computer! yes i am that old), Google or Ask Jeeves, my local library was the only place to research my task.
Now, back in 1970, the year of aforementioned assignment, my library already seemed musty, dated and old fashioned...but I loved it. The smell, (a sort of weird mix between old person, wet dog and dust), all those books, the small tables and chairs for me to sit, whiling my 7 year old life away looking at exciting books with Tudor dresses, Edwardian shoes, weird crinolined skirts that must have been so difficult to sit down in.....it was a whole new world to me.
Later, the delights of William Goldings 'Lord of the Flies' caught my imagination and Dickens with his weirdly names characters, I couldn't get enough of them!
As I have listed, other things filled my days until spare time, post child rearing, grew more plentyful. Now, reading is what I love to do most. I often have 2 or 3 books going at one time. The light paperback for tiresome bus journeys. The bedside read and all those Classics I missed out on but feel I should get round to reading now.
I love the smell of books, the weight of books, and I love spending hours in book shops (replacing library's which i now find intimidating and not very welcoming) So, it was with trepidation that I contemplated getting a Kindle. It made sense. Thousands of books stored in a small lightweight 'pad' Why lug around a 700 page hard back while on holiday when you get have all the books you can read in a kindle?
Of course, not all that is easy is worthwhile, dear friends. The LP vinyl record has so much more character, don't you think, than CD's?
And so was my train of thought, dear readers, for some time. That was until my lovely hubby actually bought me one.
The results, I must say, is akin to how Edison must have felt when he discovered the electric light bulb. When prehistoric man first discovered that, instead of freezing your fur lined arse off, this yellow thing you get when you strike two pieces of flint together produces something that gives you a warm glow inside, in others words, getting a kindle is a revelation, dear chums.
I LOVE IT!! The thing is....it's just so easy!!
The beautiful leather cover with dinky light attached, means that my frequent 4am luxuriating into the latest Philipa Gregory, does not get disturbed by his usual whine of "must you?" (in his most exasperated tone)
No, my midnight exploration into the weird and wonderful is conducted in illicit peace and quiet, fellow readers
So, if anyone out there is humming and hawing about getting this wonderful machine, just think...would you replace your power shower with its six headed blasts of piping hot water for a rusty old tub in front of a coal fire? Enough said....
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
Saturday, 15 October 2011
Empty Nest part two
Oh dear, I really am not technically minded at all! Still playing around with this blog thing, I wanted to add a picture to my blog but don't yet know how to do this and write underneath. Sure I'll figure it out one day
Anyway, as I touch on in my last blog (as they say in the business) my son has recently left home. This loss and change to my life has not been an unwelcome one, but it takes a bit of getting used to.
The move has been gradual. He hasn't just up-sticks and moved out overnight. Having met the latest love of his life about 15 months ago (a university student with a flat of her own) his toothpaste was very quickly next to her toothbrush (boom,boom) and we only saw him when he was hungry, had laundry he needed doing or when he was scrounging for money, you know, the usual things.
She then left university and the flat she rented with her flatmate and moved into a room above the pub she worked in (usual story, university graduate who cant get a proper job) My son ensconced himself into her new environment and everything happily continued until they started looking at estate agents.
This is getting serious, I thought. Viewings were book, walls were measured, mortgages were scrutinised and before you could say 'Home report' they had bought their first one bedroomed (small but compact) flat.
Now, a few years ago, I could never have envisaged that my son and heir would have left home by 21. He was always a home lover, comfortable in his warm family environment. A family holiday to Florida when he was eight, springs to mind. Having saved all year to take the ungrateful little tike to Disney world, he burst into tears at Orlando Airport asking if he could go home!
Yes, "he'll never leave home" I used to say to all and sundry!! WRONG!!
My long deceased but much loved gran used to say "a daughter's a daughter all her life, a son's a son till he takes a wife" and she's right!
Now, he wasn't much around even when he did live at home. No family meals around the table every night. No, he spend most of the teenage years holed up in his bedroom doing whatever was the in thing at the time. 'Mixing' at his decks (only mothers of teenagers would know what this means!) Playing a plethora of games, from Playstation's one and two to the Wi Guitar hero. No, he wasn't always present but he was here. Like the cobwebs at the top of my stairs, you had to search to see him but his presents was always felt in the house, and now that's gone (alas the cobwebs are still there).
Things haven't always been easy with my off-spring either. The usual 'Kevin-like' behaviour as soon as he turned 13, worry over girlfriends, worry over exams, all were difficult to manoeuvre, I recall (the cannabis and tobacco smoking at 15 was a particularly difficult time, I recollect)
Don't get me wrong, dear reader, I'm not complaining. Having worked with homeless people for 3 years now, I know how difficult it is for some young people to leave the family home, let alone get onto the property ladder. No, I am very grateful to whoever controls these things (not sure if it's God or fate or luck or all of the above) that my six foot baby has moved on to the next stage of his life, it's just getting used to it, that's all.
I have plans to fill this new vast space in my life now that sonny-boy has gone. Learning to sew, studying Italian, taking up Zumba all have been explored but, as I am the worlds greatest procrastinator, we'll see how that pans out!
So, as I become familiar with my new surroundings I'm sure the joys of the empty nest will become clear in time. What to do with his old bedroom? What to buy with all the money we are saving on food, toilet roll (don't ask....I'm sure he used to eat it) and Heinz Tomato Sauce ('Would you like some food with your sauce, son?") is all things to look forward to in the future. Good Luck Tom and Emms, we love you, just don't come back too soon
Anyway, as I touch on in my last blog (as they say in the business) my son has recently left home. This loss and change to my life has not been an unwelcome one, but it takes a bit of getting used to.
The move has been gradual. He hasn't just up-sticks and moved out overnight. Having met the latest love of his life about 15 months ago (a university student with a flat of her own) his toothpaste was very quickly next to her toothbrush (boom,boom) and we only saw him when he was hungry, had laundry he needed doing or when he was scrounging for money, you know, the usual things.
She then left university and the flat she rented with her flatmate and moved into a room above the pub she worked in (usual story, university graduate who cant get a proper job) My son ensconced himself into her new environment and everything happily continued until they started looking at estate agents.
This is getting serious, I thought. Viewings were book, walls were measured, mortgages were scrutinised and before you could say 'Home report' they had bought their first one bedroomed (small but compact) flat.
Now, a few years ago, I could never have envisaged that my son and heir would have left home by 21. He was always a home lover, comfortable in his warm family environment. A family holiday to Florida when he was eight, springs to mind. Having saved all year to take the ungrateful little tike to Disney world, he burst into tears at Orlando Airport asking if he could go home!
Yes, "he'll never leave home" I used to say to all and sundry!! WRONG!!
My long deceased but much loved gran used to say "a daughter's a daughter all her life, a son's a son till he takes a wife" and she's right!
Now, he wasn't much around even when he did live at home. No family meals around the table every night. No, he spend most of the teenage years holed up in his bedroom doing whatever was the in thing at the time. 'Mixing' at his decks (only mothers of teenagers would know what this means!) Playing a plethora of games, from Playstation's one and two to the Wi Guitar hero. No, he wasn't always present but he was here. Like the cobwebs at the top of my stairs, you had to search to see him but his presents was always felt in the house, and now that's gone (alas the cobwebs are still there).
Things haven't always been easy with my off-spring either. The usual 'Kevin-like' behaviour as soon as he turned 13, worry over girlfriends, worry over exams, all were difficult to manoeuvre, I recall (the cannabis and tobacco smoking at 15 was a particularly difficult time, I recollect)
Don't get me wrong, dear reader, I'm not complaining. Having worked with homeless people for 3 years now, I know how difficult it is for some young people to leave the family home, let alone get onto the property ladder. No, I am very grateful to whoever controls these things (not sure if it's God or fate or luck or all of the above) that my six foot baby has moved on to the next stage of his life, it's just getting used to it, that's all.
I have plans to fill this new vast space in my life now that sonny-boy has gone. Learning to sew, studying Italian, taking up Zumba all have been explored but, as I am the worlds greatest procrastinator, we'll see how that pans out!
So, as I become familiar with my new surroundings I'm sure the joys of the empty nest will become clear in time. What to do with his old bedroom? What to buy with all the money we are saving on food, toilet roll (don't ask....I'm sure he used to eat it) and Heinz Tomato Sauce ('Would you like some food with your sauce, son?") is all things to look forward to in the future. Good Luck Tom and Emms, we love you, just don't come back too soon
Saturday, 8 October 2011
The Circle Of Life
Fear not, dear reader, this blog is not a homage to Disney's Lion King ( which has became the latest in a long line of classics they've tampered with just because they can. I'm talking about 3D dear reader. WHY?. I mean what's next, Norman Bates knife coming towards the audience during the classic shower scene in Psycho?, Sylvester Stallone's gloved fist flooring the cinema goers in Rocky? I'd better stop before I give them ideas) I digress. No the title of this blog alludes to the stage I am at in my life just now. Staring precariously down the face of 50 (48) I suppose there are no surprises as to what's happening in my life. 21 year old son just left home and living with his girlfriend, hubby and I living in reasonable comfort in our tiny 3 bedroomed semi, trying to adjust to living alone together again and me, desperately trying to share the care of my ailing, frail mother with my sister. No, all normal natural things that should be happening at my stage of life. Except I'm finding this stage particularly difficult to live through, dear reader.
It is not easy, watching your mother slowly lose everything she once held dear. My mother was diagnosed with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) about 5 years ago and I suppose she is in the latter stages of the disease at the moment. She can do little for herself and is frequently in and out of hospital. At 78 years old I suppose this is not unusual, except every case of illness has an individual, personal side to it. The person you are watching die is part of you, has taught you all you know. You may not like them all the time but you do love them, unconditionally.
I wrestle with how I feel about my mother's illness. I mean, what does she expect, she didn't particularly look after herself when she had her health. All my life I can seldom remember my mother without a fag in her hand. All photo's of her over the years paid testament to her favourite pastime, smoking. I suppose you could argue that her generation were not aware of the dangers of smoking but she has, for a long time, known that it could kill her and now it is. So yes, anger is what i'm feeling about my mothers illness. Angry that she didn't value her health when she had it, angry that she will not live forever as an important, useful, valued member of my family and angry she will not live to see me becoming a grandmother as she has my sister.
My mother is a difficult woman. Our relationship has often been strained and painful. Abused as a child, she views the world as a dangerous place and she has lived her life in fear. So scared and aware of the dangers in life was she, that she tried to control everything and everybody in it, tried not to let anybody in her life get hurt, as she had been. I know all this, but still I cannot help but feel anger, anger that she was not resilient enough to overcome what happened to her, angry that she has passed on the same fear and negativity to myself and my sister and angry that she didn't value my father more while he was alive.
My father died as he lived, quietly and with as little fuss and inconvenience to anybody as possible. He was diagnosed with leukaemia 6 months before he died and for 3 of those months he was in reasonably good health. Needless to say, my mother is also dyeing as she has lived, loudly and with as much fuss and inconvenience to everyone as possible! Of course she is! In that respect I suppose I admire her. I'm sitting here realising that she has taken the path least traveled in life, never been slow at speaking her mind (sometimes cringeworthly so) but that was my mother!! It is just not always easy being the daughter of such a mother!! I feel sorry for her in that she has never truly known how to enjoy life but I am also grateful to her because I try every day not to make the same mistakes that she has. Every time I think about saying something negative or judgemental to my son, I stop and listen to my mother saying it in my head and I say something positive and encouraging instead. Every time i think of something in a negative way, I stop and try to look for the positive. It has not always worked, but I see the faults and try and correct them. I am grateful to you, dear reader, for listening to this because yesterday, as i was visiting my mother in hospital, I truly wondered how I would get through another visit. Today, i will visit my mum with a new head and try and remember every good thing she has done in my life.
Every person who is out there dealing with the same things I am dealing with just now, you are not alone. I sympathise and feel for you and hope you have the strength to see it through to the end.
It is not easy, watching your mother slowly lose everything she once held dear. My mother was diagnosed with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) about 5 years ago and I suppose she is in the latter stages of the disease at the moment. She can do little for herself and is frequently in and out of hospital. At 78 years old I suppose this is not unusual, except every case of illness has an individual, personal side to it. The person you are watching die is part of you, has taught you all you know. You may not like them all the time but you do love them, unconditionally.
I wrestle with how I feel about my mother's illness. I mean, what does she expect, she didn't particularly look after herself when she had her health. All my life I can seldom remember my mother without a fag in her hand. All photo's of her over the years paid testament to her favourite pastime, smoking. I suppose you could argue that her generation were not aware of the dangers of smoking but she has, for a long time, known that it could kill her and now it is. So yes, anger is what i'm feeling about my mothers illness. Angry that she didn't value her health when she had it, angry that she will not live forever as an important, useful, valued member of my family and angry she will not live to see me becoming a grandmother as she has my sister.
My mother is a difficult woman. Our relationship has often been strained and painful. Abused as a child, she views the world as a dangerous place and she has lived her life in fear. So scared and aware of the dangers in life was she, that she tried to control everything and everybody in it, tried not to let anybody in her life get hurt, as she had been. I know all this, but still I cannot help but feel anger, anger that she was not resilient enough to overcome what happened to her, angry that she has passed on the same fear and negativity to myself and my sister and angry that she didn't value my father more while he was alive.
My father died as he lived, quietly and with as little fuss and inconvenience to anybody as possible. He was diagnosed with leukaemia 6 months before he died and for 3 of those months he was in reasonably good health. Needless to say, my mother is also dyeing as she has lived, loudly and with as much fuss and inconvenience to everyone as possible! Of course she is! In that respect I suppose I admire her. I'm sitting here realising that she has taken the path least traveled in life, never been slow at speaking her mind (sometimes cringeworthly so) but that was my mother!! It is just not always easy being the daughter of such a mother!! I feel sorry for her in that she has never truly known how to enjoy life but I am also grateful to her because I try every day not to make the same mistakes that she has. Every time I think about saying something negative or judgemental to my son, I stop and listen to my mother saying it in my head and I say something positive and encouraging instead. Every time i think of something in a negative way, I stop and try to look for the positive. It has not always worked, but I see the faults and try and correct them. I am grateful to you, dear reader, for listening to this because yesterday, as i was visiting my mother in hospital, I truly wondered how I would get through another visit. Today, i will visit my mum with a new head and try and remember every good thing she has done in my life.
Every person who is out there dealing with the same things I am dealing with just now, you are not alone. I sympathise and feel for you and hope you have the strength to see it through to the end.
Monday, 3 October 2011
My first blog
Hello dear reader and welcome to my very first blog.
As the title of my blog suggests, this sight will indeed, I suspect, be quite simply the odd musing, ranting, witty (I hope) observations of a greedy cow i.e., me. Although this self deprecation may amuse, I assure you dear reader that it is by no means an unfair title. I most definitely am not adverse to the odd family sized bag of M&S home made crisps (other crisp are widely available) However, the reason that I can quite smugly call myself this (and not feel like sticking my head in a gas oven) is that I have recently lost over 6 stones (in old money) or 84 lb. in weight and ( this is where the smugness comes in) kept it off (so far)
And, this part is where I often feel the urge to stand on top of a very tall building and shout in my loudest, most annoying voice "IT WAS NOT HARD" So.... no mixing up brightly coloured gunk that you have paid a suspiciously large monitory amount for. No mixing 'red' and 'green' food at specific times of the day while standing on one leg. No weighing minuscule amounts of food and frantically searching the 'energy contents' of everything that passes my lips, and no boring anyone within a 12 mile radius with my angelic declarations of "Oh Doris, I couldn't possibly go out for a meal tonight as i am currently not eating anything with a face" No, my secret, dear reader, (observe that I am not going plural until I see how much people read this bloody blog) is so incredibly simple that I am almost too embarrassed to declare it. So (drum roll), deep breath. I ATE LESS FOOD AND MOVED AROUND MORE. There, I have said it. I am currently hiding under the desk post earthquake style as I fear such a simple answer to such an apocalyptic problem in this obese raddled world will cause angry mobs to storm slimming clubs throughout the land demanding their money back for selling them the idea that losing weight and keeping it off is hard. IT'S NOT!!!
Now don't get me wrong, there were times that I would have sold my kidney's for a slice of pizza. And I have very recently realised how much I was self medicating with food and to compensate have found solace in varies things, from clothes shopping to vodka and I will not lie to you, in lots of ways losing this weight and keeping it off has made me depressed. But, and this is a biggy for me, I know as certain as I know that Murray will not win Wimbledon, I will never get that big again!
And so, dear reader, this is where you come in. I have decided to start writing my thought down in cyber space, so to speak, in the hope that I can work through my 'issues' without wrecking my liver with drink, diving into the the Pringles and heading for the physic ward. Dare you come along for the ride? xx
As the title of my blog suggests, this sight will indeed, I suspect, be quite simply the odd musing, ranting, witty (I hope) observations of a greedy cow i.e., me. Although this self deprecation may amuse, I assure you dear reader that it is by no means an unfair title. I most definitely am not adverse to the odd family sized bag of M&S home made crisps (other crisp are widely available) However, the reason that I can quite smugly call myself this (and not feel like sticking my head in a gas oven) is that I have recently lost over 6 stones (in old money) or 84 lb. in weight and ( this is where the smugness comes in) kept it off (so far)
And, this part is where I often feel the urge to stand on top of a very tall building and shout in my loudest, most annoying voice "IT WAS NOT HARD" So.... no mixing up brightly coloured gunk that you have paid a suspiciously large monitory amount for. No mixing 'red' and 'green' food at specific times of the day while standing on one leg. No weighing minuscule amounts of food and frantically searching the 'energy contents' of everything that passes my lips, and no boring anyone within a 12 mile radius with my angelic declarations of "Oh Doris, I couldn't possibly go out for a meal tonight as i am currently not eating anything with a face" No, my secret, dear reader, (observe that I am not going plural until I see how much people read this bloody blog) is so incredibly simple that I am almost too embarrassed to declare it. So (drum roll), deep breath. I ATE LESS FOOD AND MOVED AROUND MORE. There, I have said it. I am currently hiding under the desk post earthquake style as I fear such a simple answer to such an apocalyptic problem in this obese raddled world will cause angry mobs to storm slimming clubs throughout the land demanding their money back for selling them the idea that losing weight and keeping it off is hard. IT'S NOT!!!
Now don't get me wrong, there were times that I would have sold my kidney's for a slice of pizza. And I have very recently realised how much I was self medicating with food and to compensate have found solace in varies things, from clothes shopping to vodka and I will not lie to you, in lots of ways losing this weight and keeping it off has made me depressed. But, and this is a biggy for me, I know as certain as I know that Murray will not win Wimbledon, I will never get that big again!
And so, dear reader, this is where you come in. I have decided to start writing my thought down in cyber space, so to speak, in the hope that I can work through my 'issues' without wrecking my liver with drink, diving into the the Pringles and heading for the physic ward. Dare you come along for the ride? xx
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