Sunday, May 13, 2018

Mosaic planning.......

Time has passed now since my husband did his firewalk.
For those of you that don’t know, this involves walking barefoot over hot charcoal
There was not one blister but his feet were a bit black. Unsurprisingly. He raised loads of money for the hospice I go to. This left both of us feeling proud......him because he did it. Me...... because I married a bad ass!

So, we are a week on from that. And I have no more dare devil antics to report. Unless you count the little Man balancing on the edge of the bed for a story as a dare devil antic.

Many moons ago I made a mosaic for the school I worked at, and I was super pleased with how it turned out, so I thought I would like to make another, for our garden. I’m not sure what
 I’ll do yet, but I’m sure an idea will come to me, and evolve and evolve some more.This is where Pinterest becomes really handy. And so do friends as I put a shout out for any old or odd tiles kicking about in a shed or garage..
Do you know what? Call me a dick, but I want control over the colours I use, the main one being red. As my design evolved into hearts for family members, but sadly not the blonde, super hairy dog. No idea how to represent that in mosaic tile form?­čśéSo anyway I’ve bagged the best man to take me tile hunting/begging/buying.
But first, the incredibly important board buying. It’s an incredibly important, but sort of bland foundation.
There’s two little people that I’m going to make mini individual mosaics for. But there the mind went blank........

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Darth Vader sulking.

The other night we went out to a Labour get together/party. And it was amazing! Everybody was made to feel welcome and everyone I met was friendly. And I noticed a few other wonky people, I was the only one in a wheelchair though. And this gave rise to me thinking like Darth Vader, ‘come, gather round. I will be your leader.’ This seemed reasonable to me.
But then I realised that,

a, I’m no leader.
And,
b, They are their own leaders.

In your mind, swap my wheelchair for a chariot. No? Still no followers? Ok, I give up. Imagine Darth  Vader pulling a sulky face, before he disappears in a cloud of smoke.

Then my phone disappeared and had been bundled up in my bedding, and chucked in the machine......FUCK!! It’s amazing how quickly you can become dependant on them. I use mine for all sorts!! I had to cope for 24 hours without it, and that’s not a 24 hours I’d like to repeat. Sad cow that I am. I write my blog on it......hello world! I order clothes, book travel plans on it.... book tickets, look up weather, look people up on it, be they Jo Cox or Tommy Robinson or anywhere in between. It just keeps me in touch.....y’know? And with that I’m gonna get back to my book....

Oh yeah, and it’s a phone!
And with that.... I thank you

Friday, April 6, 2018

Norwegian.

As I seem to naturally gravitate towards Scandinavian tv I thought maybe I should learn some. I picked Norwegian, and I am sad to admit that after four whole days, I’m not fluent. I’m better at understanding the written word, than I am at understanding the spoken word. It sounds similar to German, which I didn’t learn that at school (favouring French and Spanish, both of which I passed, unbelievably, if this effort is anything to go by. My brother told me many moons ago, to do German, and I’m regretting ignoring him now. AND I’ve never been to Spain, so what do I know? As it turns out, NADA. RIEN.
INGENTING. NICHTS. NANI MO (my favourite­čśéthe only thing you can do with Japanese is love it)
It would also seem I’m a fan of anything featuring a dead body. These bodies would preferably be the work of fiction, and not a slasher film.

I think my friends must think I’m a bit of a political nutter. You know when you’re stumbling over your words....? Me; “You know, pretty lady, lived on a narrow boat, had been at a meeting, got stabbed when she came out. You know!!? What’s her name...?” Out come the phones. JO COX!!
And at the other end of the spectrum, a man, I can only think to describe as a rascist, homophobic C***. Ah, my mum would be so proud. Anyway, his name escapes me again. TOMMY ROBINSON. Ugh, that feels so awful in my mouth. I shudder.


Friday, March 30, 2018

Interlinking circles.

Following a mini catastrophe, my very best friend popped over. And gave me her bracelet. LIKE I SAID I LOVE HER. For the bracelet, obviously, and her time, that she freely gives. When my first husband and I split up, it was her spare room, that I inhabited. I love her and her family.
However, she made me feel OLD.

Turns out, the boy I baby sat once or twice ONLY HAS RELEASED A SONG, THAT I THINK’S BEAUTIFUL. But like I said, I’m old. And with that I started a new moisturiser routine to prevent crumbling away.

Check the song out; Bruno Major, Easily. It’s beautiful. He’s my big girls cousin.....AND, he’s beautiful. I remember he was a really good boy, no bother.

Talking of no bother, that’s what my legs aren’t. And I can’t work out why the bit of my body that’s mostly numb, and frankly fucking useless, if I hacked them off I wouldn’t miss them, AND there’d be a significant weight loss. Pass me that saw ;) Every cloud ‘n’ all that.

And earlier today I was holding my ladyshave (which was still on) and resting my head on my hand
An oops, if I didn’t get a clump of long blonde hair. My little man asking me if I was shaving my beard, like daddy, will fondly be remembered as a new low. Tomorrow sees Mr and I going out with the Little Man, to eat all things Easter.......Eggs, obviously, hot cross buns, and I can’t think of anything else?? Lamb? I think that’s it, for Easter themed food.

Enjoy. ❤️

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Birthday boy :)

Today has been a busy day. I’m now in bed with my legs buckled up, and there’s no one to help me.  Well, there is, but they are flat out, fast asleep. Lucky buggers. I just need someone to come and pull them straight!!

It’s The Good Mans birthday is on Saturday! PaaAaaarrRrrtTyyyYyy!!
The Little Man is full of secret plans and clever tricks* too, but because he only has a money box, and my mostly empty purse, it will be interesting to see how creative he can be.

Today’s been a good day.... it’s The Good Man’s birthday tomorrow. And I hope he enjoys it. He’s looking a bit done in at the moment.....proper knackered!! We have all the girls coming round......and various other family members too, and friends, his and mine.
The other good thing to happen today was that I bought Michael McIntyre tickets*. For the 11th of next month!! And that’s not many sleeps away. My daughter went to see him last night with her husband, Michael will be pleased to know he got the thumbs up.

I’m starting to hear movement upstairs. Why/how is it that I’m more excited? It’s like when the girls were teenagers and they were going out at Christmas and sleeping of hangovers on Christmas Day! Come on! Get up! Ooh movement is now downstairs! One excited little man/cake chooser just came skidding into my room to tell me, excitedly it was his dads birthday. Really? I was not aware. Come on now! Get up! I’ve even had a conversation with number 4, and her oldest friend, who’s visiting her. I’m friends with her Mum who sent a photo message to her the other day......wonders never cease...
It’s now 9 in the a.m and I want you to get up husband! Mind you, I did say he looked knackered didn’t I? So, take your time.
I don’t want a full on beard for my husbands birthday but my daughter is unwilling to assist in plucking, so it looks as though I need to rock a birthday beard.

*Turns out I’d only reserved them :( Which also turned out to be a blessing in disguise :) It clashed with one girl being in Prague. AND I’d got the wrong girls. My other two are hardcore fans and ones already been. Not that you can’t go again, but two tickets are cheaper than three. Weird. BUT I will not book them without daughter number one being next to me, with her diary. I’ve learnt my lesson. Excitement will trip you up big styleeee. 

Friday, March 16, 2018

Death by a thousand cuts.

So today was mother’s day........so my whole brood descended for a roast, cooked by the Good Man again. Over the years he’s managed to perfect the skill. Good man.
I continue to gripe about the single bed. It is possible to get a double, but as I didn’t have to pay for the single, I think I’m supposed to smile and through gritted teeth say ‘mmm thanks a lot.’ I personally feel it would go a long way to discuss the double as an option and payment of because this whole thing has been like
                                                         DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS.
And one by one, those cuts mean that you lose your life force. And one by one those moments are lost. Like walking along holding hands. Like sitting on the sofa together, as we barely pay attention to a crappy film, and discuss our day. And do you know what, I’d dearly love to go for a walk, whilst holding hands, or with our little man in between us. Or or or, the list is endless.

A quick glance at today’s news, tells me that a nazi who worked at Auschwitz has just died. And can you believe there has actually been a fight over Charles Manson’s corpse? And a young boy died, at the hands of his dad’s girlfriend. Putin. Tory’s snatching food out of children’s mouths. It would be refreshing to balance out the ‘News’ with some good news. Well, I guess that Manson is now a corpse, is good. Givenchy. Syria.

I plan/hope to go shopping next week for bras....this makes me happy. I’m hoping to get some serious  lift and support that my 34b’s didn’t need back in my days of yoof.
It’s 3.30 in the am and I don’t feel sleepy. She says, just before falling asleep. Probably.
And funnily enough......I’ve been tired today. It’s 17.38 now and bloody hell, if I’m not done in. I want to go to sleep, but I’ll try and hold off for a while.

Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Dear MS, you are an arsehole.

I have been absent for a wee while. And I’d love to say it was because I’d been too busy living my life right into its corners, but no, I am currently staying at a hospice. Too find myself here is a bit of a shock. I mean the clues were there about what an arsehole my type of  MS is. I was stripped of my job, that I was so proud of. Then the next thing to go was my ability to drive, then walking......
 AND OH WHY DON’T YOU JUST FUCK OFF!! THERE’S NOTHING LEFT. I DON’T KNOW WHAT MAKES ME, ME ANYMORE. Well, I suppose nothing can errode the FACT that I am a mum, a sister, a daughter and last but not least, a nanny, to two gorgeous little bunnies. So all of that is great. But just kind of happened. But what would I choose to do??  Ceramics? Or my number one love.....silversmithing. Or something that I’ve been going on about for years, sign language. I need to get on with doing one or the other......and I pick sign language to start me off. And like the teenager that I am......I know a few swear words, so I need to move on to conversational signing.

So I got home from the hospice a few days ago, and there really is no place like home.
whist it’s great to be home, it’s not so great to have someone tell you to get rid of your beautiful bed, because from now on, you’ll have a hospital bed. This is so the care staff, that haven’t been sorted yet, will be able to access the bed, from both sides. FFS, would you let anyone choose furniture for you? Oh yeah, and it’s a single. Not happy. I also have to store various bits of large equipment in the bedroom and shower room. And just to be clear, I know that I’m moaning, but I would not want to be without any of the equipment. It all gives me a certain degree of independence. I am now regretting the loss of the garage......not really, it was hideous, and we now have a lush patio in it’s place. We should have built a shed about four times larger than we did, to house all the equipment.

Allt the equipment has spilled over and in to our bedroom, quite the conversation starter.