Bang that gong everyone

I’m very touched to have been awarded this award by a lovely lady whose blog Write Away is where here creative writing lives and comes alive for us all to read.  She writes with passion and enthusiasm and I’m very fortunate to count her as one of the people who pop in and read my posts.  So thank you so much for thinking of me when passing on this award.

I am also humbled as this is the second time I’ve received this award but I’m pleased to accept it for three main reasons.

Following the rules that go with this award firstly I get the chance to thanks my fellow blogger friend at Write Away for passing this on to me, secondly I get the opportunity to scramble around in my head and reveal a list of things you don’t yet know about me.  Finally I get the opportunity to promote other blogs I read.  I really support this as, in reading the nominations that others have taken the time to make I have discovered some wonderful blogs that are now firmly part of my day.

So, with no further ado here is my list of 10 things I must own up to I can reveal about me.

1. I once left the house wearing shoes that were similar, but not similar enough to be a matching pair.  From that day on I always check my shoes before I leave the house.
2. I have recently lost a stone in weight just by using a smaller plate and walking more.
3. I can eat my own weight in chocolate given half the chance, hence no.2
4. I am the proud owner of an iPhone 4S however Siri (the little man that lives in my phone and talks to me) can’t understand my Glasgow accent.  We frequently have arguments that don’t make sense.
5. I grew up in Saudi Arabia.  We lived beside one of the palaces and a Sheik once asked my mum if she would sell me for a herd of camels.  I only found this out recently.  She said no figuring as we were soon to be returning to Scotland the camels wouldn’t fare too well in our climate.  She remains an animal lover to this day and will frequently remind me that I was ‘a crabbit wean’ (grumpy child).
6. I have, over the years spent hundreds of pounds trying to find a bra that fits properly.  Why is that so difficult?  My quest recently ended and I turfed out my whole underwear drawer in favour of stuff that actually does what it says on the packet.  If you’re interested ladies you’ll find my holy grail of the bra world here.
7. I have no sense of direction.  On the plus side I no longer get stressed about getting lost.
8. I always keep a little medal of St Anthony with me.  It was given to me by my grandmother – he’s the Saint for finding lost things.  I guess she was way ahead of me an already knew about No. 7 above.
9. My brother is 11 years younger than me and recently confessed that when he was 17 he hated going anywhere with me because of my dress sense.  In my defense it was the 80′s and pink coats were in!
10. I still have a pink coat

OK that’s my 10 things – all true, I promise.  Now on to the blogs that I’d like to nominate.  Well I’ve decided to pass this on to people who I don’t think have this award yet, so here we go…..

I’d Rather Be in Iceland – Eva the self-confessed Icelandoholic claims to be ‘just on this side of a mid-life crisis.  That being said she writes an interesting blog (she also doesn’t tell us which side of the mid-life crisis she is on… I guess you’ll have to read her blog to find out

Creating Reciprocity – Trisha’s blog is a daily inspiration.  This lovely lady is interested in EVERYTHING and is fascinated in searching for ways we can all learn to live together.  Her posts are always thought-provoking and the comments she receives promote interesting discussions.

Stay Out of My Head – Just had to be on my list.  Vix is just funny, funny, funny.  I always get excited when she writes a new post.

Lynda Renham Cook – I’m not sure if Lynda has been nominated for this or not yet but hell if it’s a second nomination then she deserves it.  Lynda is a busy, intelligent, creative and passionate lady who writes as though she’s speaking directly to you.  She also makes me laugh – regularly.  A joy.

Angry Pear – I had to include the fantastic blog.  Written by Drew it is the story of Angry Pear in illustrations.  Angry Pear is an adorable character who shares her troubles, joys and of course anger – can she really be blamed.  This blog also gets my vote for being the most stunning design for a blog – not surprising as the illustrations are so fabulous.  It is quite simply a joy.

So that’s my list.  Please check out the blogs above if you have time.  Congratulations to those of you who I’ve nominated.  I hope you will accept this award, but I understand that not everyone does.  I won’t be offended if you don’t.  However for those of you do accept your award then just follow the instructions on this post and I look forward to reading who you nominate and what you choose to tell us about yourself.   Don’t forget to leave a comment to let those you’ve nominated know and link it to your blog.  Whew these awards are exhausting

Sometimes sweet things come along and make you smile.

Memories - My wee sis and me squeezed into a photo booth

It would be fair to say that in my posts I rarely write about my childhood.  A couple of bloggers have suggested I do, but in truth I seem to have huge gaps in my memories of life as a child – take from that what you will. Anyhow I came across letters written by children to God posted on the internet today and they immediately took me back to going to Sunday School – which I loved.

Despite my staggering lack of memories about growing up I DO remember Sunday School.  I went every week in my best clothes and took great pride in the fact that my Sunday School Teacher saw me as grown up enough (although I must have been only 5 or 6) and thus responsible enough to be made a helper.  Yes even way back then I was very much a step up to life’s responsibilities kid of gal. I took my ‘helper’ responsibilities very seriously.

This post isn’t about religion, more about the simplicity in life.  These kids were asked to write letters to God, something I remember doing – although I can’t recall what I wrote.   This is what this bunch of kids came up with.  It sparked my lovely memory and made me smile.  So I’m passing these on to you.

Dear God,
Are you really invisible or is that just a trick?
Lucy

Dear God,
Did you mean for giraffes to look like that or was it just an accident?
Norma

Dear God,
Instead of letting people die and having to make new ones why don’t you just keep the ones you got?
Jane

Dear God,
I went to this wedding and they kissed right in church.  Is that OK.
Neil

Dear God,
Thank you for the new baby brother but what I really wanted was a puppy.
Joyce

Dear God,
Please put another holiday between Christmas and Easter.  There is nothing good in there now.
Ginny

Dear God,
If I come back as something please don’t let me be born Jennifer because I hate her.
Denise

Dear God,
If you give me a genie lamp like Aladdin I will give you anything your want except money or my chess set.
Raphael

Dear God,
Please send Dennis to a different camp this year.
Peter

Dear God,
Maybe Cain and Abel would not kill each other if they had their own rooms.  It works for my brother.
Larry

Dear God,
I keep waiting for Spring but it never gets here.  Please don’t forget.
Mark

Dear God,
You don’t have to worry about me.  I always look both ways.
Dean

Dear God,
I think the stapler is your greatest invention.
Ruth

Dear God,
I bet it is very hard for you to love everybody in the world.  There are only 4 people in our family and I can never do it.
Nan

and probably the sweetest one of all….

Dear God,
If you watch in church on Sunday I will show you my new shoes.
Mickey

So there you have it a memory prompt that gave me the opportunity to write about my childhood. There may be more to come……

All work and no play makes Jacqueline a dull student

But that doesn’t mean that I can’t Light up the Blog-o-sphere, right?

Yes it Thursday folks and spurred on by Lorna’s invitation it’s time for some positivity.

I’ve been so immersed in my studies, and quite rightly so. As I’m half way through my Degree things have really picked up a pace and so I need to cram as much study time into my days and weeks – and of course weekends.  As I spend hours in front of my trusty wee Apple MacBook Pro (given to me as a gift by my husband when I seriously embarked on study) there have to be times when you just have to step back and let the silliness of life take over.

Naughty Student stepping back from the computer

ls this what happens when you spend too much time in front of your Mac?

OK I might need to get down to finishing this next piece of work but please universe throw me some positivity and a couple of laughs now and again.  It’s the only way this girl is going to be able to keep in Good Student Mode and go the distance.

Good Student

So my positivity today in Lighting up the Blog-o-sphere is for all you other students out there.

So for all you wise old owls struggling with research, books to be read and work to be submitted......

Learning is not a spectator sport.
(Anonymous)

Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.
(Gandhi)

So what kind of silliness sneaks into your studies?  When you’ve spent too much time in front of the books and the computer what do you do to switch off and lighten your heart?  I’d love to know……..

Pancakes for EVERYONE

It’s pancake day today so I’ve made you all these….

……..to say thank you for sticking with me, visit my wee blog and leaving me such lovely comments and feedback.

Being an instant expert

I’ve never felt that I’m an expert at anything in particular.  I’m more of an all-rounder who just happens to come up with the goods when I need to.  Like the time I took a tap dancing class.  There I was tap, tapping away feeling wonderful about the whole thing.  Then one night our class was held in the dance studio – you know the ones with the huge mirrors.  The music went on and we all lined up embarking on our long practiced number with gusto.  There in front of me in the mirror was the awful truth – I was terrible.  I kept on dancing anyway and my tap shoes are still my most favourite shoes in the world but perhaps it explains why my approach to things is more of an all-rounder with determination.  When things fall into place I usually see it more as fate. I feel pleased that the ‘whatever’ fell into place before I career on to the next thing to be tackled.

Jacqueline was sure she could pull it off as long as no one moved the chair

I used to do a lot of work with people with HIV.  One of the things they used to say is how exhausting it was being an expert on their condition, frequently having to take on the role of educating people about their illness in the hope of challenging discrimination.  This is also something that carers often feel – you need to pick up the pace and become and instant expert in your role.

Last night I was reflecting on how much my husband and I have learned in our time as carers.  I think I can speak for both of us when I say we are by no means experts but we’re a pretty good team.  One of the things being carers means for us is that we are also employers.  With funding from our Council we employ someone to provide some of the care required by my mother-in-law.

Now you would think this would be straightforward enough, and in some respects it is.  I’ve got a fairly good grasp of employment law and we have a handle on the funding but there are some things that nobody explains before you embark on this route.

• You have to get used to having the carer about your home at different times of the day a night and during these times I will confess to feeling that our home is not our own – so no streaking into the kitchen to get a drink of water early in the morning for me!

Presented with this each morning the carer was amazed that Jacqueline managed to leave the house looking somewhat presentable.

• You have to be nice – taking time out to pass the time of day seems like a polite thing to do, but sometimes when I’m at home and I’m engrossed in something else (which I have time to be engrossed in because the carer is there) I just want to get on with what I’m doing.

Jacqueline knew deep down she had to stop pretending to be asleep so that she didn't have to talk about the weather again

• You have to set and manage boundaries.  This is a tough one and there is a bit of a power struggle going on at the moment that we need to deal with.

This wasn't quite what Jacqueline meant when she talked about managing boundaries!

• You will at times not be able to manage some (or even all) of the above.  No one tells you that sometimes you will feel so far removed from the ‘expert’ that you either have to forgive yourself and move on or dissolve into floods of tears.  (The former is always the preferred option ).

I think we’re good employers, we’re considerate, supportive and flexible when we can be but sometimes that can send out mixed messages and the balance of power (a phrase that I’m not really keen on using, but you get my drift) can appear to change.  It’s hard enough coping with sensitive employment things at work, but when it is in your home it feels all the more demanding.

So we’ve learned about how to calculate holiday entitlement for part-time workers, we know how to work out pro-rata pay, we’re filling in PAYE forms and the likes online and that was all just last night.  So tonight I’m going to put on my tap shoes and tap like there’s no tomorrow – maybe some inspiration will come to me about how to turn myself into an ‘expert’ at handling sensitive employee/employer relationships.

Let me just say….

Well ain’t that the truth.  Life has been a bit of a roller coaster lately and as you know I’m sworn off roller coasters.  So work, life, study and all the bits in between have been a juggle of late.

I’m now half way through my Open University course this year and working on my next essay, which has officially taken up residence in my head.  The juggle with me though is that not only am I studying Health and Social Care but my husband and I are also engaged in fighting negotiating with Social Services to secure appropriate care for my mother in law.

We had a visit from a social worker last week.  It was fine, we know the drill.  You have to lay your heart on the table and come right out and say that without extra support we just can’t cope.  Isn’t that awful.  It turns out that at 94 my mother in law can expect the sum total of 2 hours care per day. Now that just doesn’t seem right to me and I’m mighty p****d off about it.

If you turn things around and she required full-time residential care then it would cost our local Council (not us but them) between £400-£500 per week.  Her care would be full-time and it would require her living in a residential care setting.  As things stand  her 2 hours care per day is equal to £20 per day funding from the Council for us to employ a carer.  The system is officially a mess.

In the news today a website for carers has been taking a bit of flack.  It was set up by government watchdogs to allow members of the public to share their views on care homes and nurseries.  The aim of this website is to provide people with the opportunity to access views from others about standards of care – their own experiences and observations.   However it’s come up for criticism from the chief executive of the National Care Association who feels that care homes could be put out of business by malicious comments.

This website allows folks like me to rate care providers on the quality of care they provide based on the experiences of other carers.  THIS IS STUFF WE NEED TO KNOW.  I suspect that the aim behind this is also an attempt to drive up the standards of care.  No bad thing because I’m incensed beyond belief at stories in the media about elderly people whose dignity is not respected at the hands of care staff.

There are a lot of carers out there who don’t know whether they’re coming or going – I think a website like this would really help people make choices difficult.  I also think that carers have a lot more to do with their time than leaving false derogatory comments on a website.

As things currently stand the government are telling us that they are cutting funding for care.  We need, they say, to do more with less.  What they really mean is we need to do less with less and it’s impacting on folk like my mother in law, with my husband and I that are picking up the shortfall.  I won’t even start on the potential this has on the standards of care in residential settings.

We have a growing ageing population and this system is a mess.  Not only am I living it but I am also studying Health and Social Care as a degree.  It makes me, mad, mad, mad.

I want to get my degree and change the world.  Just you watch me – see if I don’t.

Something for the Weekend (No.2)

On my day off on Tuesday I found myself in a wee cafe, just minding my own business.  Actually I wasn’t minding my own business at all – I was people watching.  A couple who I figured were in their 60′s came in and my mind got to wandering.  Tuesday was Valentine’s Day so I wrote this about the couple in the cafe.  Enjoy.

Valentine’s Day

Oh it’s not difficult, she thinks to herself
As she watches him stuggling to put up the shelf
So much for a man who makes life easy
He’s always grumpy, not bright not breezy.

She peels the potatoes with secret regret
It’s just as well life isn’t done yet
You see she’s got living and loving to do
She looks in his direction, ‘just not with you’

Her mother was right – he was not the one
To make her eyes sparkle and make her life fun
It’s not that I don’t love him, it’s just that you see
He’s intolerably boring my other half of ‘we’

I want to go on holidays and walk in the park
Be surprised by bunches of flowers and that kind of lark
I want to wear silk instead of boring old linen
I want him to see me as a woman on a mission

I want to miss him when he’s not there
I want to feel that I really do care
I want to laugh, go to the pictures and dance
Instead of spending half my life in a trance.

So the shelf won’t be right, I can live with that
But if you don’t start living husband then I’m going to start
I’m going to go dancing, take holidays and swim
I might even take out membership for the gym

I’m going to take you with me and turn this around
You might be happy, but guess what I’ve found
The secret of life is laughter you see
And that’s what I want for you and for me.

So after you’ve finished and put away your tools
I’m going to implement some important rules
We’re going to start living, you and me
I’m starting this afternoon, just wait and see.

I’ve turned up the bedroom heater in the middle of the day
I know it’s unheard of but let me just say
I’ve bought some satin, some roses too
Now all I’m waiting for husband is you.

They say it’s not over till the fat lady sings
Well this afternoon husband I’m spreading my wings
I’m going to do something about this love or ours
I’m going to lock us in the bedroom for hours and hours

I’m going to be that woman who is full of passion
Who removes her clothes in a seductive fashion
I’ll be the one who turns your head
As I throw myself on our marital bed.

So Valentines Day we will celebrate you see
Not with flowers, but just you and me
You’re going to have to trust me, it’s been a while
But I’m fairly confident I can make you smile – again!

Lighting up the Blog-o-sphere one flicker at a time

Well it’s Thursday so inspired by Lorna I’m again joining in on the “Occupy the Blog-o-Sphere” and lighting it up one flicker at a time with something positive.

Total my ‘flicker’ came from my own life.  For a while I’ve not been working from our main office, instead based remotely in a school.  As the schools are on holiday I was back in our main office today and it was lovely to catch up with colleagues.

The lady I share an office with there has recently returned to work following treatment for breast cancer.  Today, having not seen each other for a while we swapped hair stories – me about my grey and her about her hair growing in.  But we didn’t just swap stories – oh no.  Right there in the middle of the office she whipped off her wig and flung it on the desk, doing a twirl to show me how much her hair was growing.

Now I need to explain that this lady is a bit of a stunner.  She is always immaculate, everything matches and pre cancer treatments she had the most gorgeous long black straight hair.  She was so ‘together’ I used to joke that they had set us up to share an office just as a reminder to her that ‘this’ (being me) is what would happen if she ever let herself go.  Lets just say she always had matching nails and lipstick, whereas I was just delighted to have matching shoes. Yet today there she was half bald and thrilled with her little layer of ‘baby hair’, as she called it.

You could be mistaken for thinking that our merry band of workers are dominated by illness at the moment.  My bald pal, who I share an office with, and also another colleague who is coping with a recent diagnosis and a poor prognosis.  Both of them are at work.  To complicate things office room-mate’s husband was recently diagnosed with terminal cancer.   I realised something today – and this is where the positive bit comes in….. when the going gets tough the tough pull together.

There is no doom and gloom in the office, there is much kindness, laughter and love.  I don’t know how my two friends cope with what they have going on in their lives but I know that part of their choosing to be at work is because there they have a support that they can’t get anywhere else.

So if we’re looking at lighting up the blog-o-sphere one flicker at a time – or even at lighting up our lives (or the lives of others) one flicker at a time then we could do worse than throwing some love at a situation.

As I watched my bald pal today, chatting about her delight that her hair was growing back whilst her wig balanced on a pile of files I had such admiration at how this very together lady was still very together – despite what she was coping with.

Here’s to those in life that are finding ways to cope with the tough stuff – there can’t be much more positive than holding it all together in a crisis and still having room for a little laughter thrown in.

I vont to be alone

Having found my parachute I decided to jump in a spectacular way. Well for me anyway.  I’ve taken today off work to do nothing but just what takes my fancy.

Things have been hectic and sometimes you have to stop.  Just stop and – well smell the flowers actually.  It’s Valentine’s Day and today and this is what my wee writing desk looks like….

So there is much to smile about.

I picked a good day to have off work.  For one I have the house to myself.  My mother-in-law is off to day care and my son hopped on the bus this morning to go skateboarding with his cousin.  My husband has the cement mixer going outside.  Peace reigns within (both me AND the house).  So I think I can identify with Greta Garbo today.  It’s not that you don’t want folk around you but there is something really nice, in this busy life, of being alone.

As I had time on my hands I started the day with a walk along the beautiful River Ness.  Sitting on a little bench close to the water I was content to just watch it whirling by.  Nature has a wonderful restorative ability.  Just as I sat there a seal sailed past bobbing up and looking at me with it’s beautiful big watery eyes.

So today is a good day.  I feel some missing balance has been restored to my life – but just to make sure I’ve also taken tomorrow off too.

Granted we have the much long-awaited social work meeting at our home tomorrow but apart from that the day is mine.  Now as I work full-time I don’t often have days that aren’t taken up with something or another.  I have realised that I’m not actually very good at having time off.  I think I’ve just got out of the habit of just being (if that makes sense).  What I do know is that it takes a bit of energy to switch off and just chill.  I think you can also get out of the habit of it.  Terrible I know but hey, at least I realise it.

So I have a cunning plan.  I am going to do something tomorrow just for me – I’m going to the cinema.  I will sit there in the middle of the day surrounded by sound a vision, eating popcorn and will disappear into a world of cinema.

Not used to going to the cinema during the day Jacqueline was rather surprised to discover she was overdressed

So for a gal that isn’t used to having a day off I’m quite proud of the fact that I seem to have got the hang of it pretty quickly.

Film recommendations gratefully appreciated

What colour is your parachute?

Hello Blogland.  Boy am I glad to be here in my little virtual sanctuary.

It’s official my stress levels are high, damn high however at least I know why.  It is called life. 

So what to do?  Well I’m way past pretending that I’m not stressed, so that’s out as an option. Actually we all know that this option doesn’t really work, so this spurs me on to the next option.  Acknowledging the stress – ok done that.   So it’s moving swiftly on then to the next option.  Deal with it – or dissolve into either hysterical laughter or tears, or both.  Well that’s not an option.  I’m sitting in the office surrounded by people who think I’m a perfectly sane and competent person.  Well I am right – so no tears or hysterical laughter.  Anyway I have my best mascara on today and I don’t want to be going into my next scheduled meeting with panda eyes – not a good look.

I will confess I have tried running away from this stress. Man have my legs have been going like the clappers.  I realised though that every time I look back there it is catching me up.  It’s not even sweating profusely and doing that heavy breathing I’m doing as attempt my 4 minute mile.

The thing is though even if you have stress in your life you only really need to look left, or right (or both) to see that there are folks coping with far more than you are. So there is nothing for it, I’m going to put on my parachute and jump. I may be stressed BUT I still want to fly.  Like everything else in this life it will pass.

My brightly coloured parachute

So what colour is your parachute?

Something for the Weekend (No.1)

As I said before I really miss my wee creative writing class so I was delighted that some of the folks that stop by my blog were up for a bit of a bit of a creative writing challenge.  The task is to write and post something you’ve written on Saturdays (for the next 4 weeks) and to be brave and post it.

You can write whatever you like and if you leave a comment on my post and insert your link to your “Something for the Weekend” post then others can click on it and read it too.

OK here we go.  This is mine.  It’s title is “Plumbing for Dummies”.  The only piece of information I think should be included is to say that to our American friends remember that you use the word faucet, where we use the word tap.  OK let’s go….

Plumbing for Dummies

Despite the fact that she had Classic FM blaring in the kitchen Mary could still hear the drip, dripping of the tap. She shook her head and filled the kettle.  Wrapping her dressing gown tight around her she wondered why angel Cottage felt so cold this morning. A pot of tea for two, toast and marmalade. “That’s the way to start the day” she muttered as she stoked the cat lying as close to the Raeburn as he could manage.

Geoff always stayed in bed longer than her so she’d got into the habit of having breakfast on her own. Making herself comfortable she spread her marmalade and slurped her tea. She twiddled her wedding ring as she pondered ‘Plumbing for Dummies’. How hard could it be to fix a dripping tap anyway?

The young man at the bookshop had eyed her only fleetingly as she paid for the book. ‘What would a 70-year-old woman want with a book about plumbing?’ she could see him thinking. He smiled and asked her if she wanted a bag.

She hadn’t looked at the book until now. Buying it was a bit of a brave step – it meant that she had decided to do something about the bloody tap that was driving her mad. This independent streak often won the day over the painfully pathetic and incompetent, “I’m an old lady I need someone to help me’ mode she could also find herself in. “No” she thought, “if you want something done, do it yourself”. She couldn’t afford a plumber anyway and it wasn’t in her to bother her son. He was so far away anyway. How ridiculous would it be to call him and ask him to fix her tap.

She took another bite of her toast, poured some more tea and rummaged in her dressing gown for her reading glasses. “Right – list of tools you will require”. “Tools?”. “Maybe this isn’t going to be straightforward after all”. She flipped the page over to see if there were any pictures. Nothing. Maybe this book was for a higher class of dummy she thought.  With her glasses balanced on the end of her nose she read out loud as she ran her fingers down the list.

A pair of pliers
Wrench
Screwdriver

She read it again before headed off to find Geoff’s toolbox in the hall cupboard. Surely whatever she needed would be in there.

She opened the box. “Come on girl, you can do this”, she said out loud. “Right, screwdriver, pliers”, she eyed each of the tools, placing them carefully next to the book. “Wrench?” She wasn’t really sure what that was but thought maybe she could figure it out as she went along.

She cleared away her cup and plate and moved the teapot to the side. She spread out the tools and looked again at the instructions. “Maybe I should get dressed” she thought. “What if I do something wrong and end up with water everywhere”. At least if all this ends in disaster they will find me with clothes on instead of an old wifie in her dressing gown and slippers soaked to the skin.

“Oh what did it matter, whose going to come anyway” she thought as she returned to the book. “Right, turn the packing nut clockwise to tighten it a little at a time”, she said slowly to herself. ”Turn it with what?” She rummaged again in the toolbox selecting something that she hoped was a wrench. She fixed it to the tap and then pursing her mouth she turned the nut clockwise. Very slowly the dripping stopped. She stood there for a few watching the tap just to make sure. “So what was the bloody screwdriver and pliers for?”

She felt a pang of loneliness. She wanted to shout out to Geoff to tell him that she’d done it, she’d used his tools and she had fixed the tap.

She sat down at the table and poured another cup of tea. She didn’t really want another cup of tea. Making tea in the morning was the one thing that she had never quite got used to. It didn’t feel right to use the little tea-pot for one that her sister had bought her. She had been making tea for two most of her life. It was hard now to throw half a pot away every morning. Despite everything it was the one thing that made her feel that flood of emotion, a reminder of being on her own. Every morning for a year now she had poured half of the pot away. Geoff’s half.

She gathered up his tools and put them back in the box. Lifting it onto the table she proclaimed, ‘well Geoff, I did it’. She like to believe he could hear her, that he was giving her that cheeky wink of his. The one he always gave her when he was proud of her.

She emptied the teapot into the sink and made a mental note to find that teapot for one. Maybe it was about time she gave it a go. At least, she thought, that’s what “Grief for Dummies” would tell her to do. She turned the tap on and off and smiled. “Not bad Mary, not bad at all”.

Ain’t Misbehavin

I came across a poem scribbled in one of my books last night.  You probably know it…. “When I am and Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple”.   It got me thinking, wouldn’t it be nice if we didn’t have to wait until we were older to misbehave?

OK I don’t mean break the law, but just stretch the boundaries of what folks expect of us. If you could what would you do?

ln this life we are taught to behave properly, not to buck the trend, act your age.  Sometimes I don’t want to act my age – hell sometimes I’m not even really sure what age I am.

Last night I dropped my son off at piano and headed to the local supermarket to kill time. There was a lady with a toddler (who clearly should have been in his bed) but instead was having the mother of all temper tantrums. You know the deal, on the floor, kicking and screaming. It was quite spectacular actually. Imagine if we could do that as adults. If I took it upon myself to throw myself on the floor and kick and wail in the local Social Work Department maybe they would take my requests for support a bit more seriously.

OK that probably is a step too far. They would probably have me carted off – but it would be spectacular AND it would be unexpected.

So I confess there is a wee part of me that is with the old lady who wears purple and spends her pension on brandy and summer gloves whilst she sits back unperturbed that her husband is eating 3lb of sausages in one go.

Somewhere hidden away in my deepest darkest self I want to be like this old lady……… enjoy.

A B C of Life

A fellow blogger, I Want To Be In Iceland, wrote an interesting post today – an A B C alphabet of travel.  It’s a lovely quirky idea and I’ve decided to pinch her idea (though not without letting her know) – and in the spirit of creativity I tweaked it just a little.  Instead of an alphabet of travel I thought I would write my alphabet about life.  My life.

A is for attitude.  Every gal needs a bit of an edge, right?

B is for blog – my wee sanctuary and I’m very proud of myself for keeping this up.

C is for chocolate.  Enough said.

D is for Divorce.  Been there, done that.  Moved on. So now “D” is for dancing. Do it often and with abandon and don’t wait to be asked.

E is for energy – do the things in life often that replenish this and if it runs out acknowledge it and rest up a while.

F is for flowers – which my husband regularly buys and puts in a vase beside my bed.

G is for grey – now peppered through my hair.

H is for housework and it’s constant ability to make me feel like I am totally out of control in my life.

I is for inspiration – take it in whatever form it comes.

J is for “just when you think you can’t you can” – see above.

K is for kissing.  Pucker up husband.  There is nothing like a good snog to lift the day.

L is for listening, really listening and not just hearing.  No.1 tip in the Mum’s Manual.

M is for “Mum”.  Becoming a mum was the best day of my life and I am truly blessed to have a son that loves me as much as I love him.

N is for numpty.  We all have them in our lives.  The trick is to rise above it and move right along.

O is for opportunities.  They are not like buses with two arriving at once or hanging around because you can’t decide whether to take a ride or not.  If one arrives think carefully if you are prepared to let it drive on by or jump aboard.

P is for pancakes.  I make mean scotch pancakes most days.

Q is for quotation.  The one that most influences my life is ‘nobody promised you a tomorrow’.

R is for running – something I need to do more of.

S is for studying – a huge challenge and a joy in my life.

T is for Tutor – who keeps me focussed on the challenge so that it can be a joy in my life instead of unravelling in a spectacular fashion!

U is for ‘Universe’ – I frequently talk to her and ask for her help.  If I ask nicely she seldom lets me down.

V is for vintage.  I’m a huge fan of second-hand anything, have been since I was young.  Nice to know that my style of choice is now known as vintage rather than cast offs

W is for weight.  Turning 45 has made me acknowledge that the thing in the corner of the bathroom are scales and I bloomin well need to be using them now and again instead of thinking about just dusting them (see ‘H‘ )

X is for marking the spot.  Know where you are in your life AND where you’re heading.

Y is for you – be true to yourself.  At the end of the day you paddle your own canoe.

Z is for Zumba my exercise of choice.  You get to dance about like a crazy person for an hour AND you lose weight.  Who couldn’t love that!

So that’s my life alphabet.  What’s yours?

Pick a letter and let me know what it conjures up in your heart/head/life.

Lighting up the Blog-o-sphere one flicker at a time

Inspired by Lorna and Amy to offer up a little something uplifting on a Thursday – which is just as well as I was a right moan yesterday!  Anyway here’s my little something for today.

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”

(Albert Einstein)

Whatever

Last night lying in a hot lavender bath I picked up Mary Anne Radmacher’s book “Lean forward into your Life” and flicked through it.  ”Begin each day as if it were on purpose” she advised me.

Today though I have finally admitted to myself that I have a terrible affliction and it’s going to take more than prompts from Mary to kick it into touch.  Folks I have what is medically known as Cantbebothereditis. I CAN’T BE BOTHERED.  Isn’t that a terrible thing to have to admit to?

Are you sitting comfortably?  Then let me explain.

Ok you know that my life is busy.  I’m making good progress with my next piece of OU work, hell I’ve even written my little piece to be posted on “Something for the Weekend”. I am even tackling the real life next chapter of my Mum’s Manual thanks to some issues presented to me recently by my son.  In truth though I just feel exhausted and a bit flat and it’s going to take more than a blooming lavender bath to sort it out.

Now before you think I’m just having one big moan…. actually I am just having one big moan aren’t I.  OK I deserved that one BUT I ‘m not so far gone that I can’t acknowledge that I have joy in my life, that I am incredibly lucky and I have lots of support.  ”So what the hell is wrong with you?” I hear you ask.  OK I’m going to be really honest here and say I think I’ve just lost a bit of the joy in my heart.  If you’ll forgive me for falling off the happy wagon I think of late some of the tough stuff of life just clouded my rose-tinted varifocals through which I am normally able view life.

I don’t often feel like this and I would like to think of myself as being down but certainly not out.  Now that I have acknowledged my Cantbebothereditis hopefully the only way for this gal is up.

So my wee cloud might not disappear just like that but you have to start somewhere.  I have just rummaged in my bag and put on my favourite cherry red lipstick (hell if you don’t feel like smiling at least paint one on eh )  I have a Tunnocks Tea Cake sitting on my desk AND I am blooming determined to turn this day around.  If it’s true that we can choose to be happy or sad then I choose happy and if I can just pick up pace I might just be able to jump back on the happy wagon.  When things are not quite right with us we need to stick in and keep living with intention, right?

Ok there’s nothing like a bit of toilet humour to bring a smile.  You are, aren’t you, you’re smiling.  So here’s to smiling – I’m off now to do more of it  Fancy joining me?

So what’s your tip to give life that little lift?

Would you swap your kids?

OK in case you’re worried this is not the next instalment in my Mum’s Manual. I’ve never actually thought about swapping my kid.  Well not swap exactly. I have on occasion encouraged him to go and spend the weekend with his father when I’ve been aware that if we don’t get a break from each other I might actually find out what a nervous breakdown feels like. That’s about as far as I’ve got.  Of course you know the deal – as soon as he’s on the bus winging his way to his father’s house I start to miss him terribly and can’t wait for him to come home. The emotional roller coaster that is being a mum eh. This, I have recently found myself admitting, is in fact the only roller coaster I am now safe to ride. Real roller coasters and I don’t agree with each other as the following photograph shows.  This is me and my son just after my last and absolutely FINAL roller coaster ride.

It's official I can no longer do the upside down bit and still look human. And yes he was holding me up!

So no I wouldn’t think about seriously swapping my kid but it seems that this swapping thing is catching on. Some families have been struggling with the cost of their kid going to university. As a solution to this – and also to provide kids with the stability of a home life – mum’s are ‘swapping’ their kids with other mum’s whose teenagers are going off to university. I think this is a fantastic idea. For one it cuts down the accommodation costs, with the teenager not paying rent, but maybe providing a contribution to food and house costs. In this economic climate it makes a lot of sense. It also allows kids to get the chance to effectively leave home to study in the university of their choice – particularly important as sometimes this is necessary in order to access their course of choice so staying at home to study frequently isn’t an option.

It used to be that when people went to university the lived at home. Then, in the 1980′s it all changed and young folk were living in mad houses like The Young Ones.  There may have been an element of fun in this new found independence but it also resulted in communities of students, which had the power to change the mix of an area.  There were of course the situations that developed about noise etc, etc.  On the other hand if students are living in such a way that they are more integrated into the community does this not fit more with a model of real life?

So these mum’s who have hatched this wee plan certainly have my support.  If my son chooses to head off to university then I’m all for swapping him with another needy student.  Maybe I could have a girl – I’ve always wanted a daughter after all.  It would certainly be all change.  I wonder if I could cope with a teenage girl around the house, borrowing my straighteners and waltzing in at 1am.

Maybe it wouldn't be that different other than there would be more pink things around - a lot more!

Actually I think I might have to get back to you on this one.  Back to the drawing board eh

iWrite

OK here’s the thing.  Lots of people say that blogging isn’t really writing.  I disagree, but then I’m fairly new to all of this.  It all comes down to how you view things.  Before I started blogging the only thing I really wrote was poetry.  Poetry was my thing and I can still rattle one-off at the drop of a hat – I’m not saying it’s any good mind, but boy can I get things to rhyme.  Anyhow I’ve been thinking….. In the summer last year I bravely took my first creative writing class.  It was very, very scary and I felt incredibly brave.  The class was taken by a teacher who taught me in Glasgow when I was 15.  So years later I found my life full circle back in his writing class.  This time though I was a fully fledged adult but inside I was still a petrified 15-year-old wondering whether or not I would be able to deliver the goods.

The thing is though even though it was scary to sit in that group, put pen to paper and THEN have to read you work out to EVERYONE I really enjoyed it.  I also discovered that when I’m put in that kind of situation I am surprised with what I come up with.  I also marvelled at what everyone else came up with.  It was just a joy.

Of late I’ve realised that I really miss my creative writing class.  Unfortunately I was unable to sign up for the next round of classes because it was just too much with my studies.  But I miss it.

Lately, as I’ve been walking to work my mind has been prompting me to write – to be creative. Now there are a few bloggers who read my posts who are also writers.  Actually you’re all writers because you blog – there I’ve said it – enough of this snobbery.  However there are some bloggers who read my posts who have gone the extra mile.  Carridwen and her fabby cauldron is a one woman literary powerhouse, Lorna with her laugh out loud tales is inches away from being published and Lynda kindly invites me to her book launches.  Can you believe I have a friend whose book I can download on a Kindle.  If I had a Kindle that is.  But how cool is that!

So, this writing lark.  Ok I’ll be honest.  I don’t know if I’m any good.  What I do know is that back in my writing class where you had feel the fear and write like hell the bottom line was you’ll never know if you don’t dip your toe in the water.  I’ve decided to hatch a plan……..

If I can’t sign up to attend a creative writing class how about having a virtual one.  My plan is once a week write a post with a wee thing I’ve written.  Rather than being here on my own some in this virtual creative writing I thought a few of you might sign up to it.  It being my ‘Something for the Weekend’.  It can be a story, a poem whatever really all you have to do is post what you’ve written on Saturday.  I’m up for trying it for four Saturdays. What do you think?  Are you up for it?

I’m going to give it a go.  I might not be the next JK Rowling but hell a gal’s got to start somewhere.

Tulips, Chocolate Hobnobs and the lovely Wee Car

I had to step up to the mark as a mum this weekend.  Sometimes our kids need us in ways that we don’t expect that they will.  I am that Mum without a manual and so at times we need to dig deep and find the answers within.  Maybe we’re all writing our own manual and when a new chapter opens up we have to gather our thoughts and with our big hearts look for the words that are going to be part of the solution.  Instinctively I know that when our kids are going through the rapids of life there is no point in pretending that everything is ok.  It is far better to acknowledge the swirling scary water and help them put their life jacket on as they weather their storm.  So that’s what I’m going to do and I know that this is made possible because someone is holding a life jacket out for me too. (Thank you husband ).

Pulling together is what gets us through the bumpy bits of life.  Take Friday for example.  My buddy at work was diagnosed with cancer and it blew me away.  I felt as flat as the tulips on my desk.Later that night my husband got a call from our pal Billy.  ”There’s something at the door for you”, instructed Billy.  There at the front door was a bunch of tulips and a packet of chocolate Hobnobs.  Billy had read my blog and then headed out to the shops for this lovely pick-me up.  How nice was that!

Today when I went into the office I was surprised to see my buddy there.  He gave me a big hug and said he was doing ok.  Despite his prognosis being poor he has decided to keep life as normal as possible, for as long as possible and to enjoy the time he has with his family and friends.  His attitude does not surprise me – he is one of life’s good guys and although things are emotional he is a very grounded man.  I have so much respect for his attitude – we can learn much from people like this in our lives and I know that I am blessed to have friends like this.

So with all that life presents us with to deal with or think about it also provides us with just the right amount of pick me ups to keep us focussed.  When we think things are going to be a problem or not work out they often do.

Take Sunday for example.  My husband has this wee car that has been garaged at a friend’s house.  As it turned out the car had to be moved as our friend needed the garage.  My husband asked if I could come with him so that I could drive his car to tow the wee car back to our house.  Yep, that’s what I said – ME TOW A CAR!

Now I wouldn’t say I was accident prone but the thought of me towing a car across town just seemed like a bit of a step too far.  That said however I am also the kind of gal who steps up to the mark, so off we went.

We pushed the wee car out of the garage.  I had forgotten how lovely she is and we laughed about the fact that this little car, which my husband lovingly restored himself is older than me, his wife.  It seems that the wee car and I have something in common – she also steps up to the mark when required.  Not only did the wee car start, but my husband drove her home.

Driving behind my husband in the wee car it was lovely to see kids waving at him as she trundled along the road.  Folk stopped to look at her – the wee car has this amazing capacity to make folk smile. So I might be that Mum without a manual but I am also reminded that this life is full of surprises and as a mum we always have the capacity to make our kids smile – even in the rapids. I’m off now to have a chocolate Hobnob and admire my tulips

That Friday Feeling

These were the flowers on my desk this morning. Tulips are my favourite flowers. Why? Because they die so beautifully.

I think this image is also fairly representative of how many of us feel when we reach the weekend.  I’ve spent my week up to my neck in client casework.  My colleagues and I are also juggling a bit more than usual as a couple of members of staff are coping with fairly serious illness.  We’re a tight-knit team and we pull together to make sure everything is covered.  Today however  our collective breath was taken away when we learnt that one of our work buddies has been diagnosis with cancer.  Not only does he have a challenging journey ahead of him but his prognosis is not good.

It puts my week into perspective – hell it puts my life into perspective.

So this morning I gave my wee vase of tulips some fresh water in the hope than when I return, like me, they will have found a new lease of life.

Today has remind me how fortunate I am to have a spring in my step – something that I know my buddy will be struggling to achieve.

“Where there is love there is life.”  (Gandhi)

Hope, expectations and a bit of impromptu dancing thrown in

So, did you dance?

A friend, Billy, read my blog yesterday.  He’s a new reader yet despite his busy, busy life I’m touched that he takes the time to stop by read, and comment.  He drew my attention to this clip.  If dancing is the thing – then his recommendation has got to be one of the best ways to start the day.  With a surprise!

This made me think of Jane’s post I read this morning about hope and expectation.  Jane is a lady after my own heart and her take on life makes me both laugh and challenges me to think and reflect. If you’ve watched the clip of this busy train station in London it would be fair to reflect that the folk travelling to work that day were probably hoping that there would be no disruption, their journey’s would progress without complication and that they would get to work, or wherever they were going, on time.  I doubt that any of them had the expectation of being treated to such an uplifting event.

I only hope that one day I experience a start to my day like the one Billy suggested – and hey, maybe in this life if we have hope then the expectation will follow.  Here’s to life and all the surprises it presents to us – because some of them are uplifting.

Thank you Billy and Jane for your inspiration.

This also fits neatly into this…

Lorna, who is a blogger extraordinaire wrote a post last week inspired by Amy at Soul Dipper with a call to us bloggers to Occupy the Blogosphere every Thursday and give the planet a shot of fun, support and positive energy.  It an opportunity to share something you’ve been wanting to tell the world.

So, if you’re pondering what to write about today – how about using your post to ‘Occupy the Blogosphere’ with some positivity.  I hope  you do and I have every expectation that us bloggers can give the planet the shot of fun and positive energy it needs this Thursday – and for many Thursdays to come.

Dance little one, dance like there’s no tomorrow.

OK let me ask you this. When was the last time you danced? I mean really danced?

This came into my mind this morning when I was walking to work. It was a bitterly cold day and I decided to stick my earphones in and listen to the breakfast radio show whilst I was walking.

So, my day started with the wonderful Dean Martin singing ‘That’s Amore”. Now I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for old Deano. My favourite uncle was his No.1 fan. He also thought he looked like Dean Martin (he didn’t) AND sounded like him (he did). I have fond memories of family parties, dancing and singing along as he did his Dean Martin impression.

Today, walking along the banks of the River Ness I had a skip in my step and all the lyrics came flooding back – so I sang too. It made we want to dance and I realised it had been a long time since I’d danced.

Now this isn’t a sob story about how Peter and I don’t ever seem to have time to go out. OK that’s true, but I’m not complaining. Even if we did go out, we probably wouldn’t go dancing. Sometimes I corner him in the kitchen when Sunday Love Songs is on the radio and I’m making breakfast in my mismatched pyjamas and force encourage him to get down with the groove and whirl me around the dishwasher or do a Gay Gordon’s with my son down the hallway. That is about as close as I get to dancing.

But hey, what’s wrong with that. It doesn’t matter where you dance, or who you dance with. What matters I think is that you dance (and preferably sing too). So, here’s my challenge for you today. Turn the music up load and find an opportunity to dance. It doesn’t matter whether you grab your nearest and dearest, whether you try to train the dog to two-step or whether you fling off your shoes and just go for it in the middle of the living room. The important this is that you just go for it.

Come on, what are you waiting for - everybody's at it!

So husband if you’re reading this get practicing cause this gal has a dance card that is just begging to be filled.

Here’s something to start you all off. Go on, you know you want to

“We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once.” (Nietzsche)

Always be kind, for everyone is fighting a hard battle.

OK I’m a mature student. I’ve got my head screwed on and I’m a pretty resourceful lady – but there are some things in life that still baffle me.

• What exactly is the best thing before sliced bread?
• Why are bathrooms in petrol stations always locked?
• Why is there an expiration date on soured cream?
• When do 24 hour cafe’s start serving soup of the day?

These things ran through my head as I made my second attempt of the week to engage with social services. It seems that in my search for answers about how the ‘system’ is doing with our request for additional care for my mother in law I will probably answer the above LONG before I find out.

OK this one's easy - THIS is better than sliced bread

The thing is though I don’t really care when the 24 hour cafe serves soup of the day, or why bathrooms in petrol stations are locked but I do care about securing additional care for my mother in law and the fact that this system is, well not much of a system.

At the moment their tactic of choice is to give me the run around. I am passed from one person to the next. Nobody takes responsibility. I am helpfully advised that my concerns will be flagged up to their manager who will call me back. They never do.

So here I am again with my polite tone of voice and my thick skin, attempting to chip away at the system. What they don’t realise is that this carer is quite prepared to use the biggest pick axe she can find. I am, as they say, one determined lady.

Good Morning, may I speak to the manager please.

I’m determined on two counts. One, my mother in law needs and deserves additional care to make sure she’s safe and to maintain her independence. Secondly, and just as important, carers are not a renewable resource.

I know lots of carers who just give up because they lose faith. Fighting the system just becomes one extra thing for them to do. Many carers experience burn out and in truth sometimes, in this crazy system, carers struggle to identify what they need in place to make things better. Even if it were available.

I’m studying Health and Social Care. I know and understand the system both on paper and in reality. Yet I find it difficult.

On my desktop I have a page that I open before I call social services. This powerful reminder fuels me on and gives me the determination I need to keep going, to be polite yet firm. This is what it says….

• Unpaid carers save the government £119 billion per year.
• Between us Peter and I provide care that equates personally to a saving of £157,680 annually for the government.
• Stick with it girl – because we’re worth it!

So here’s to all the carers out there sticking with it. Changing their worlds, one phone call at a time.

Oh just had a call back from social services with AN APOLOGY that we’ve had such a long wait (6 months) and that our case is being allocated to a social worker who will contact us later this week, beginning of next. I love it when a plan comes together

An Award from Iceland

Because “Busy Mum’s shop at Iceland?”

No not that Iceland……. this one…

Or rather the award came from Eva over at  I’d Rather Be in Iceland. Eva is a self confessed Icelandoholic so I thought I would put the record straight and just explain that her blog is about Iceland NOT Iceland.  OK now that we’ve got that straight I would like to thank this lovely lady for passing THIS on to me.

Eva nominated me for  this lovely award because my posts make her laugh.  I like that

There is a Glaswegian saying, “it’s nice to be nice” – well it’s even better to learn that some of the things I write have the capacity to make people laugh.

OK so this is actually the second time I’ve been nominated for this award.  I realise however that first time around I missed an important part out when I last passed it on.  The deal is you must list 7 of your own posts that you like and then pass the award on to 7 other bloggers. So in the spirit of ‘life giving you a second chance to do it right‘ then I’m delighted to accept this award and pass it on.

I am also glad that the instructions don’t include, “list 7 things your readers don’t know about you” as some of these awards do.  I always have to be honest with these things. I would never dare to make anything up and so I would probably have to start with telling you that as a treat at Christmas time I always buy quilted toilet paper (but that’s a whole other story).  OK so panic over I don’t have to divulge interesting truths.

So what of my posts are my favourites and why.  Here are the posts I’ve written that I like.  I’ve picked these because I think out of all my posts these ones tell the most about me – and because some of them have strong memories.

Lets not make a big issue out of this.

Do you remember the first time you….

How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?

Not my bucket list.

Memories are made of this.

Departures (the bravest post I ever wrote)

There must be an angel playing with my heart

OK now on to you folks.  I am delighted to be able to pass this award on to….

Studying Parent

Worrywarts Guide to..

Random Reasoning

Creatingreciprocity

My Open Adventure

The Big Blue Mess

Jane Thorne

All of these blogs are unique and are really deserving of this award.  Congratulations and I look forward to finding out which of your own 7 posts you like and which 7 bloggers you nominate.

Because you deserve it.

There was a message posted on our Open University forum today from one of our tutors saying, ‘there is a blue sky today, we don’t know when the next one will come along so make sure you take time out of your studies to enjoy it’. How nice is that, permission from your tutor to bunk off.

He is right of course. How many things do we not do/enjoy because we think there is always another day and we don’t have time to stop and enjoy the whatever? How many things do we keep because they are special and we save them for a special day? So what is a special day and how do you know when it has arrived? What happens if it scoots on by and we don’t realise until afterwards how special it was?

I’ve long since stopped waiting for special days. I no longer leave much-loved pieces of clothing hanging in my wardrobe waiting for special occasions to come along. My jewellery gets worn rather than lying in a box waiting for an invitation. Hell, sometimes I even put my Chanel red lipstick on in the morning when the only thing I’m planning on doing for the next couple of hours is wearing my pyjamas and reading newspapers.

So get out the good wine glasses, put on your bling, dab that expensive perfume you’ve been keeping for a special occasion behind your ears. Whatever it is you’ve been saving because it’s special remember it’s special because it’s there to be enjoyed – by you.

I might be having a night in watching the TV tonight, but damn am I going to look good when I'm doing it!

I’m off now to enjoy the blue sky. Now where’s my tiara and my Chanel lipstick.

A Burns Supper with a dash of Star Wars

Today was a really, really busy day at work.  Client’s back to back and two emergency appointments to squeeze in.  On top of that I had to get my car to the garage – but that’s a whole other story.

Last night my son uttered that word, you know the one that means you are either going to have to make a decision, or agree to do something.  ”Mum????”  Anyhow the bit that followed fitted into both of these categories.  He wanted to have a bunch of friends round to watch the movie Star Wars and asked if I would cook for them.  Well, it’s Friday night I thought, they’ve all been studying and I don’t mind the cooking so I said yes.  I asked him to text me at lunchtime on Friday, let me know how many were coming and if there were any vegetarians – oh and anyone who didn’t drink Irn Bru.

My son's drink of choice - a Scottish fizzy drink made from a secret recipe that tastes of a cross between bubble gum and plastic

So I was half way through Friday and edging at full speed into the afternoon when I realised that I’d had no text about how many were coming for dinner.  I wasn’t going to get a chance to go shopping until later so it was not big deal. I just got on with my day.  Anyhow at about 4pm-ish whilst I was in the garage with all the to-ing and fro-ing with insurance and this and that my phone rang.  It was my son.  ”Just to let you know mum there are 10 coming”.  This day was just getting better and better.

So there I was, not yet finished my day, no courtesy car available, two bags full of files heading back to the office working out a menu for 10 in my head.  Actually I was trying to work out whether or not I could actually manage to carry all my files and shopping for dinner, plus the Irn Bru and still make it home in time to cook.

I did it!

All worked out I made it home with everything, flung on the pasta and before long and the kids started arriving.  However I soon realised something a bit different was going on.  I could hear all this commotion and hilarity at the other end of the house.  Then one of my son’s friends arrived in the kitchen –  with being invited for dinner and all he has somehow got confused and thought we were having a Burns Night so, get this, he turned up in his kilt – yep the works.

Needless to say he took a real ribbing from the others – but as I was putting out the pasta and garlic bread I gave him a wink and said,  ”I do like a man in a kilt”.

So, in honour of the kilted one in our midst, and in true Burns style, they did a Toast to the Pasta with Irn Bru

Me and the Kilted One

How others see us

Yesterday my attention was drawn to some photographs in an exhibition called, “How Others See Us”. So how do others see us? OK I’ve taken a bit of artistic license on this but here’s what I think some of those in my life would say about how they see me, and then my reality:-

My Tutor : Jacqueline is a competent and dedicated student who always strives to go the extra mile (he did actually say that)

Me : I am a crazy, disorganised woman who is trying to hang on in their with this course and get the work done.

My Son : Mum is always fair.  I know that she loves me and is always there to support me.

Me : I have no idea what I’m doing and I love this wee person so much I don’t want to get it wrong.  I would love someone to hand me a manual entitled, “How to be the best Mum to a 16-year-old when you have no idea what you’re doing”.

My Husband : My wife successfully juggles family, work, being a carer and studies. She leaves the house in the morning wearing a carefully selected outfit with her usual touch of vintage and matching accessories. Returning home, despite a busy day, she always manages, in record time, to pull together dinner for our family.

Me : I am constantly trying to convince myself that I am doing just fine with the juggling. ‘This will do’ is usually my fashion choice for the day and I am grateful and surprised that I manage to get to work wearing matching shoes.

Me looking at the world through rose-coloured glasses

OK I jest, but only a little.  I am honest enough to admit that there are undercurrents of the above which really are part of the real me. We all present a vision of ourselves for the outside world, but have you thought about how the outside world see you?  We constantly evaluate and make judgements, not necessarily with the intent of being cruelly judgemental, but lets face it assessing situations and people is what we do.

This came to my mind last night as I was sorting through some old course notes.  I came across this anonymous poem that was found in a nursing home.  The lady who wrote it had died and the staff found this in her locker.  The poem speaks for itself.

See Me

What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you’re looking at me?
A crabby old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice, “I do wish you’d try!”
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe…..
Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill….
Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse; you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of ten …with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters, who love one another.
A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon now a lover she’ll meet.
A bride soon at twenty — my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now, I have young of my own,
Who need me to guide and a secure happy home.
A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my man’s beside me to see I don’t mourn.
At fifty once more, babies play round my knee,
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead;
I look at the future, I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love that I’ve known.

I’m now an old woman …and nature is cruel;
‘Tis jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I’m loving and living life over again.
I think of the years ….all too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, nurses, open and see,
…Not a crabby old woman; look closer …see ME!!

I know that this poem is used in health and social work training, but I think the message goes further than that.  I’m glad that in my life, for the most part, people see the positive in me.  But, how damaging it must be for it to be the reverse.

With this in mind I might anonymously send this poem to our social work department who are….obstructive, unhelpful, unprofessional, challenged by my request for the provision of increased care support to allow my mother in law to regain a level of independence necessary for her quality of life.

Don’t stop me now, I’m on a roll

Why do I feel so close to the ground?

Today has been a hugely busy day.  I wrote my Burns Night post last night – I know that’s cheating, but hey it’s my blog and I forgive myself. Today however this is the first minute I have had to myself.  No time for lunch today, just ploughing on through it. As I write my posts when I stop to have a coffee I thought that is what I would do.

Here’s the thing.  Since last year I’ve been wearing varifocal glasses.  You know the deal, the strength of the lenses are graduated so that you can see when you look at something at a distance but you can also manage to read.  My glasses are set up so that the top bit of the lens is for distance, the middle bit is for computer work and the bottom half for reading.  The fact that I am able to function is quite amazing to me.

When I first got my glasses – of which I was advised by a cocky concerned optician (who I could swear was 12 year’s old) who, with great confidence, tried to console me in my shock of embarking on varifocals by saying, “I think when it’s my time I will get varifocals too”.  I could have punched him and said thank you but I would like a pair for reading, a pair for the computer and a pair for distance/driving. Please!

Anyhow I resigned myself to the fact that he was probably right and that the only real option was for me to have one pair that I wore all the time.  Anyhow I could always cheat and take them off when vanity took over, right?  No.  Actually I now put my glasses on in the morning before I am even out of bed and turned on the light.  I don’t even take them off at night.  This has become my husband’s task.  I take myself off to bed early to catch up on reading and so he usually finds me with my book having flopped on my face and my glasses still on.  He’s good though, he knows the drill.  Take the book off me (making sure not to lose my place) and take my glasses off.  OK it’s not very attractive, but he loves me anyway.

This is probably a far more attractive sight than the one that awaits my husband of an evening

When I first went to pick up my glasses they told me that it might take a while to adjust to them.  I tried them on, had a look around, proved to them I could read and then they let me go – off into the world with my varifocals.  I was fine.  At least I was until I stepped out of the opticians. You see what they don’t tell you is that when you start wearing varifocals you feel as though you’re about 10 feet tall.  So there I was walking like a giraffe along the street, dipping my head in case I took my eye out with the street lighting that lined my way.  OK I’ve come a long way since then, but what I discovered this morning took me quite by surprise.

OK just give me a minute, I'll find my bearings

OK so we’ve established that I never take my glasses off.  However walking to work this morning the rain was pelting down and I couldn’t see, so I thought I would take them off.  I would be fine.

Now I should point out that I’m not tall.  I manage to just manage to hit 5ft 2 as long as I really straighten my back, however as I walked this morning, minus my glasses I suddenly realised I was very close to the ground. Actually I was 5ft 2 inches away from the ground.

It seems that wearing varifocals has not only helped me see properly but given me this false sense of security that I am actually a tall person – which I have to say is rather nice.

So walking to work today, because my car is out of action due to the fact that said car and I spectacularly skidded in the ice and landed on the kerb with a huge thwump last Friday made me realise that I can’t go back.  I am now in varifocals forever.  I may as well say goodbye to the days when I can toss off my glasses and allow my vanity to take over.  Anyway why would I want to?  I’d much rather see properly and live with the delusion that I am actually 10ft tall.

Warning:  If you are a varifocal wearer and you want to try this experiment please do not attempt this without a trained adult who can stifle a laugh at the funny way you’re walking long enough to help you up.

Celebrating and remembering

Well I’m celebrating today for two reasons.  One, I passed my assignment and achieved a very reasonable mark.  Considering I didn’t enjoy writing this one in the end it seems that I did a rather acceptable job.  So I’m delighted. There is nothing like getting great feedback from your tutor to spur you on to the next one.

Of course the other reason for celebration is that it’s Burns night – an annual celebration, not just in Scotland but all over the world of the work of Robert Burns.  As I’ve already written a post to the Lassies (in this case some the wonderful lassies who I’ve come to know through blogging) I thought, to celebrate the life of the Bard today, I would come at it from a different tack.

Now Rabbie was famous, in part, for the lassies who inspired his work. Today however I wanted to share the words he wrote about his best pal, Willie Stewart. This is sung by the lovely Eddi Reader (who my husband carries a torch for her and I think, in another life had she been available and said yes, I would not have found myself married to my lovely Scottish man.  Alas he still carries a torch for her – but that’s ok because he’s mine now Anyway if you watch this clip I think you’ll understand why he still does.)

So here’s Eddi to help you kick start your Burns Night. A beautiful song with a wicked jig at the end.

So, having toasted the lassies this is for all the laddies out there.

Is it just around the corner?

Well could it be that we are edging ever closer to Spring? Me thinks so.

This morning two ducks took up residence in our garden pond. On top of that one of our regular garden visitors arrived back yesterday. Here she is waiting for my husband to throw her some braeburn apples.

Who would think that living bang smack in the middle of Inverness that we would get visitors like this. So bring it on, this Spring thing  We are truly blessed if Spring means visitors like this.

The best fun you can have with an After Eight

I just logged onto my Open University site to check to see if my assignment had been marked. Nothing there however I was not disappointed as this video had been posted by some of the staff.

I’m off now to give it a go. Will update you on score when I’ve stopped laughing.

Back off you’re standing in my aura

Unfortunately I have spent much of today interacting with very negative people. You know the kind of thing. Not only is the glass not half full but the glass is too small and, oh look there’s a little chip on it. What energy it takes to be so negative!

Or of course you could just call me and have a right good moan about it

I’m usually a fairly positive person, which is a bit of a bonus if you factor in that I am all that’s left of a bizarre childhood.  Today however it was a challenge to stay positive.  I’ve noticed you see that when I’m around negative people they steal my energy. I call them ‘light borrowers’.

Now I’m sure light borrowers cross your path every now and again. How do you deal with them, or not as the case may be?

Are you one of these focussed people who are able to stick to your boundaries, not get drawn into negativity and certainly not agree to take on a task that you don’t have time to do?

Are you the sort of person who can look at your caller id and decide not to answer but to call back later when you have time and energy?

Are you the sort of person who is able to help people turn their negatives into positives?

I could usually say yes to most of the above but today those sneaky light borrowers just slipped in under my radar.  So now I’m off to finish my drink of water, from my glass that is half full, do some deep breathing and repeat my mantra ‘everything will be fine’.

Maybe what I need is to adopt a bit of the attitude this guy clearly has, despite the fact that his house appears to be on fire.

Angels working overtime.

Is there anybody there?

I’m exhausted today, mostly because I’ve been sending telepathic messages to my tutor to grade my essay. Oh the bloomin agony of the wait. When it got to 4.30pm I check on the OU website one last time – nothing.

Of course by this time the bad student angel on my shoulder is whispering in my ear that my tutor is a really nice guy and as it’s the weekend and all he’s probably hanging on to the failed essay so as not to spoil my weekend.

I could feel myself dragging my feet as I walked home.

I have to say it took the good student angel a while to pipe up – not sure what she had been off doing. Anyhow she remind me that I did actually say when I submitted it that I was sure I had done enough to pass. She also assured me that my tutor has two weeks to mark and return work, his time isn’t up yet AND he probably has a good few to mark.

I decided to listen to good student angel and drew bad student angel a dirty look.

Of course those little angels on your shoulder can get you into all sorts of bother. You know the kind of thing…. you’re standing at the express checkout and the bad angel is counting the number of items people have in the baskets.  Then she’s daring you to say something to the guy in front of you whose gone slightly overboard with the buy one get one free stuff. You can hear her little scratchy voice provoking you to give him more than a dirty look and sigh. Thats when something comes over me and I can hear myself saying, “Listen pal it says 10 items or less.  This buy one get one free means that you might get it free but it ain’t invisible.  Off you trot over there and get in the queue with the ladies with the big bulging trollies.  Oh and don’t let me catch you in this line again”.  I can feel myself come over all flushed and it’s not until the good angel reassures me that I didn’t actually say it out loud, just in my head, that I am able to breath again.

Bad angel is also the one that told me it was OK to finish the last of the Christmas chocolates yesterday evening without sharing them with anyone. Likewise she almost made me late for work this morning as she agreed with me when I though I might just turnover and stay in bed for an extra half an hour. She is also the one who told me I looked OK in that jumper and that it was fine not to bother putting any makeup on today.

So good angel you seem to have disappeared off my shoulder of late. Can you please come back and help as I have no idea where this is heading.

If you want to get ahead then you have to get up

Thanks to all the lovely lassies who left comments on my blog yesterday I have a spring in my step today. This is good because I hauled myself out of bed this morning with some things on my ‘To Do’ list that I knew would pose a bit of a challenge.

My husband brought my mother in law home from hospital yesterday, which is great, however although she is doing well both of us question whether or not she may have been discharged a wee bit too early. However she is delighted to be home and I guess that’s what matters.

I did have a wee laugh to myself yesterday though when we were waiting to find out if she would be getting home or not. I got a text from my husband saying that ‘the doctors would be doing their rounds in the afternoon and the hospital would let us know if they going to release her”. Release her!  That makes her sound like some 94 year old villain.

Nurse, call my son, I'm making a bid for freedom

I should explain of course that my husband is an retired policeman. I guess you can take the man out of the service but can’t take the service out of the man eh! It’s the same when I hear him on the phone and he is spelling something out to the caller using the phonetic alphabet. He’s obviously got a handle on the old ‘b’ for bravo, ‘e’ for echo, ‘p’ for papa thing, whereas me I say things like ‘b’ for balloon, ‘e’ for eczema and p for ‘pringles’ (yeh the ‘e’ for eczema is a cracker, it causes all sorts of confusion )

Anyhow I digress. So, today one of my tasks is to telephone Social Services to find out about the progress not of the care needs assessment we requested be carried out for my mother in law. This was requested back in August 2011 and we’re still waiting. Now I know that there have been cuts to funding and care teams have been restructured but I’m afraid I’m just going to have to step over all of that and push for this to be done. This is especially important as, in addition to my mother in law’s recent collapse, she also suffered a mini stroke before Christmas. So I donned my riot gear, squared my shoulders and got down to making ‘the’ call.

"Yes Good Morning, I'd like to speak to a social worker please".

Of course I know that this will be sorted out, and to achieve this we’re quite prepared to politely push as hard as we need to, but what about the people who don’t have someone to do this for them?

Now it would be fair to say that I know my way around the system. This is not just because Health and Social Care is the Honours degree I’m studying but because as a carer you bloomin well need to get up to speed pretty fast. In this respect the internet is your saviour. At the touch of a button you can have access to oodles and oodles of valuable and empowering information. It is this reliance on the internet which brings to the forefront of my mind the recent protest in the US. It seems that media industries plan to introduce these new laws (that to little old me don’t appear to have been well thought out) which could result in innocent victims falling foul. From what I’ve read am I wrong in saying that these laws appear to be focussed on ushering in a new era of censorship?

Many of the blogs I usually read were blacked out as a protest against the proposed laws.  I didn’t take part in the black out although I do acknowledge that this is not just an issue for the US. Yesterday I admit was a bit of a down day for me and instead of protesting I choose to cheer myself up writing poetry.  However this protest has stayed in my mind so this is my wee attempt at flagging this up and showing support.

OK if I’ve got this right this is about laws in the US but is something that impacts on us all – especially us bloggers.  In the UK we rushed in the Digital Economy Act, which hasn’t yet been implemented due to legal challenges.  The big question around all of this surely, whatever you are in the world, is that the powers that be don’t seem to be able to highlight data that shows the extent of the impact of illegal file sharing in the internet.

God damn these illegal knitting games are good!

Now I might be seeing this all the wrong way but isn’t this the kind of data that needs to be part of any discussion to ‘manage’ the internet?

I guess it’s not just the here and now we need to think about with this one, but what the internet will be in the future.

“The internet is becoming the town square for the global village of tomorrow” (Bill Gates).  It’s nice to know that people are getting together in our town square and talking about this stuff

A Toast to the Lassies

It’s Burns Night on 25th January and one of the important things about celebrating the life of the Bard is to toast to the Lassies (ladies).  This got me thinking about what Rabbie Burns might think about blogging, and in particular some of the ladies whose blogs I follow and in turn follow mine.

Now I never prepare a post ahead of time.  I always write my post of the day in my tea break or lunch break.  It’s the only time in the day I can squeeze in writing. However this post popped into my head about a week ago and I’d planned to post it on 25th. Anyhow the upshot is it’s been a bit of a day (see my previous post) so for some lighthearted entertainment I thought I would finish it and post it today. So here’s a toast to the lassies (who blog) – at least my take on it.

Now Robert had an eye for the ladies, in song and bed and rhyme
I’m sure if he was a blogger he’d hit the subscribe button every time
Every time that is he discovered some of the lassies who ‘follow’ me
Who write and laugh and encourage in a virtual world dear to me.

Take Pat now she’s a blogger with a kind and gentle soul
Reflecting on life’s changes and making her life whole.
Pat’s a retired teacher so you will know that makes her smart
Always viewing life’s upside she has down to a fine art.

Caroline is a marvel, our own personal life coach
She laughs about life’s meltdowns in informative witty posts.
It’s guaranteed that she’ll surprise you and be sure to challenge you too
To always look on the positives in everything you do.

Cerridwen with her cauldron and Arthurian facts of the day
Keeps us going with her energy in her own very special way
There’s not much could stop Carridwen not even the big C
She’s a lady on a mission and an inspiration to little old me.

Joanna’s a gentle blogger, with posts that are thoughtful and kind.
With carefully chosen photos of natures gifts she finds.
Importantly she’s a student and her highs and lows she’ll share
In ways that makes us students appreciate her flair.

Of course there’s lovely Rosie a smart, musical lady with a twist
Whose posts are quite extensive, listen well to catch her drift.
Rosie’s also studying, and working hard to get ahead
But sometimes she would rather just play banjo in her bed.

Now some bloggers names are funny but respect I give to that
So I don’t hesitate including “Poor Cow” a sassy lady whose is smart
Best known to us as Lady E she lives over there in France
And always ends her posts with music to make you dance.

Vix’s blog is punchy and keeps you laughing and on your toes
She blogs about her household and the craziness indoors
Now Vix’s blog comes with a warning, don’t read when drinking tea
You’ll laugh and it’ll come down your nose or land right on your knee.

And then of course there’s the Pimpernel, battling with her PhD
She shares her tales of academia with the likes of you and me
Pimpernel will tackle the tough stuff like procrastination and how to survive
Up to her neck in research this is a lady who know how to strive.

This takes us neatly onto ‘Angry Pear‘, who fills my day with joy
Illustrated by the talented Drew you’ll find ‘Pear’ is never coy.
She is however angry about how the world ends up treating Pear
Wrapped up in illustrations touched by humour that is rare.

And moving on to Lynda who is as dotty as can be
But not because I say so – it’s how she describes her life to me
Her posts will have you laughing and she always packs them in
I suspect she’s found the formula to ensure her readers always grin.

Jane you’ll find is a lady whose life is more than full
She works restoring furniture but squeezes in writing as a rule
I’ve only recently found Jane, and I’m awfully glad I have
Posting about ‘The Dating Game’ make it hard to stifle a laugh.

Last but not least there’s Lorna a blogger extraordinaire
Who weaves her tales with wisdom and a very special flair
This is the first blog that I subscribed to and I’m awful glad of that
Especially as this lady pulls A+ post out of her hat.

Alas my poem must end there, my boss is watching now you see
He hears my tickity tack typing yet looks suspiciously at little old me
He suspects that I’m not working on that report that needs to be done
That I’m sitting in my office just blogging and having fun.

Oh wait he’s just gone out, so a few more stanza’s I will write
Although with my powers of rhyming they might be a little light
Ah now another word you thought I’d use - a rude word in this rhyme
But remember my muse is Rabbie and so I’ll keep it clean this time.

Finally for those bloggers I’ve not included in my poem
Know that you are in my thoughts and to your blogs I’ll continue to roam
I enjoy reading your ramblings your highs and lows and stuff
And your wonderful ways of conquering the things in life that are tough.

So this toast to all you lassies who blog and keep me sane
I wish you well in your writing and your ‘follower’ I will remain
My blog it is my sanctuary where I come to write each day
And I’m glad that you’ve stuck with me – this blogger’s here to stay.

“To the Lassies”

Life begins at the end of your comfort zone….

As most of you will know my husband and I care for my 94-year-old mother in law who lives with us.  Yesterday at the day care centre she collapsed and was rushed to hospital. Firstly I should say that on the face of it the situation doesn’t seem serious – although that depends on whether you consider being rushed to hospital as serious or not. Apparently the root cause was a reaction to new medication recently prescribed.  However thankfully with the excellent and speedy care she received my mother in law sailed through the incident.  In actual fact, speaking with her in hospital last night, she doesn’t remember a thing.

Of course this kind of trauma impacts on everyone.  My husband, bless him, arrived promptly at the day care centre following the call to say that his mum had taken ill.  Peter arrived before the ambulance and was able to be on hand to care for his mum in his usual controlled and unflappable manner.  Peter’s an ex-policeman and let me tell you in a crisis he is a dream to have by your side.  Importantly his mum knows this and I have no doubt that his presence was invaluable.

Peter and I are pretty good at this caring lark.  We cope with most situations and as we’re fairly creative people we find ourselves able to adapt to ensure that things tick along just fine.  It just goes to show you though you never know the minute when all your priorities need to change.

It is this juggle that underpins what it’s like to be a carer.  Our job, in visiting the hospital last night, was to be a supportive force.  Of course on the face of it my mother in law was fine, but scratch the surface and you see an elderly lady who experienced a significant trauma.

Part of what you do as a carer is to try to keep everything as normal as possible – in all situations.  Both my husband and I are adept at going into ‘nothing is a problem mode’.   I breezed into the hospital last night with a bag full of ‘how to survive a stay in hospital’ gear for my mother in law.  Unpacking the bag, because her sight is very poor, I was relaying what I was taking out of the bag.  When I got to ‘hair-net’ she started laughing, “Oh I think I’m way past hair-net“, she said.

So it appears in this constantly changing life that Peter and I aren’t the only ones with the ability to keep everything as normal as possible – my mother in law it seem was more than capable of rising to this challenge too.

So here’s to adaptable people who have it firmly fixed in their head that they are going to meet life’s challenges with dignity and a pinch of humour – just not with their hair net on.

Hormones, hormones go away come again another day.

I could have called this post ‘Isn’t it Wonderful to be a Woman’ but I’d be lying. I’d be lying because my cheery self was replaced this weekend by a crazy person who bursts into tears, is befuddled and can’t remember how to end a sentence (and bursts into tears because she can’t remember the end of the sentence).  What is that all about?

OK I’ll be honest.  It was a busy weekend.  We had building work going on.  My husband was the Clerk of Works organising tonnes of soil to be dug out to make the site around our house ready for the next phase of work.  Scaffolding was up and a winchy thing was installed to transport the soil up to ground level (our house is built into a hill and this was the only alternative to having to block off the whole street to get heavy plant in to do the job).

So with my husband and the workers busy I made myself available to offer encouragement, hot cups of tea and food on a bitterly cold January day.  In addition to everything else I had to do on Saturday this was infinitely doable because, lets face it, there isn’t a more productive force in the world than a menopausal woman with zest.  Actually if the building team had thought about it they could have been in the house making the tea whilst I worked furiously outside singlehandedly moving the soil in half the time.  So yes on Saturday I wasn’t myself.  Although I’m beginning to suspect that I am probably morphing into what is likely to be the new me.  If the heyday of a woman’s life is the shady side of fifty then I officially no longer require sunscreen.

When I’m in this crazy state the energy isn’t a problem per se, hell I can use the energy – I need it for things like having to do two rounds of the car park (laden down with shopping) because I can’t remember where I parked my car.

"Go around again, I think I saw it back there"

What I can’t cope with are the tears.  Oh yes, I found myself in floods of tears this weekend, twice.

Now you should know as most of my interaction in the house is with my son and my husband I’ve learned that it’s best to do my crying in the rain, if you see what I mean.  ’It’ doesn’t really mean anything anyway, so I’m not in need of any real comfort.  Let me explain by giving you one of my tearful episodes this weekend……

I found myself crying after I’d watched Sherlock, ok it was the last episode but even at that - what the hell is that all about Dr Watson?  Of course I could tell you that I was touched by this contemporary update of Arthur Conan Doyles detective story, moved by the cleverness of the gripping ending and relieved that the writers have announced that there will be another series.  Alas however I think I could have been watching the test card last night and would have dissolved into floods of tears.

'OK come on Watson, you're the doctor, why on earth is she crying?"

Of course all of this happened without anyone else in the house realising that there was a crazy hormonal person in their midst – well at least that’s what I like to think.  The fact that at various points in the weekend I found myself in charge of the remote control (which usually never happens) in a room on my own, to do as I wish, is probably a sign that I’ve been sending subliminal messages to the men in my house to give me a wide berth.

So if you find yourself wandering around trying to remember where you parked your car, calling your kids by the wrong name and think it’s perfectly normal, when trying to find the iron, to be looking in the fridge then pull up a chair – welcome to my life.   So yes, I might be crazy, but in a good way – although I will confess that today at least I have no idea what I’m doing out of bed.  Let the games commence

What I will say is that after a whirlwind of a weekend full of emotion, thanks to hormones and Sherlock, there is a strange irony in life.  Here I am writing a blog about my amazing ability to burst into tears and I find I’ve been given The Candle Lighter Award by Jane Thorne.

Jane tells me that award is bestowed on a blog or post that is positive and brings light into the world!  Well a huge thank you to you Jane, I really appreciate you passing on this lovely award to me especially as I know you only very recently found my blog. Based on my current state of mind Jane I am so grateful that you didn’t read this post before you made up your mind to include me in your nominations.

Isn’t life funny – you just never know what’s around the corner.  So, whether you are juggling hormones like me, or are having a dreich (Scottish word for dreary) day then remember ‘the secret of life is to fall seven times and to get up eight times’. [1]  Do you fancy joining me?

So in search of lifting our spirits I give you this – I think I’ll dedicate it to my fellow blogger Jane for putting a smile on my face.

[1] Paulo Coelho, in The Alchemist

Wide ears and short tongues are best…..

I guess I’m no different from most folks; when I have a decision to make I have a hard time making it just with my head. Much of the process of actually reaching a decision involves my heart.

Now I wouldn’t say I’m much of a political animal. Well if I am a political animal then I would be something like a panda or an elephant rather than a pitbull or the likes. OK I confess I’ve been known to shout at the TV or radio when listening to Prime Minister’s question time. Actually come to think of it maybe the fact that I DO listen to Prime Minister’s question time makes me a bit of a political animal – so yes I do get caught up with it all, but that’s healthy, right?

At the moment there is a HUGE debate raging in the UK about whether Scotland should move towards independence. Being the good Scottish person that I am I feel I have a duty to inform myself about what this actually means should I get the opportunity to vote in a referendum. There is only one problem – tracking down factual, impartial information about what this may actually mean for Scotland and how, in reality, it might impact on little old me and mine.

I fidgeted uncomfortably on the couch watching the news last night because there was no attempt by the politicians (on both sides) to debate this in any way that didn’t sound like the process was less to do with independence and more to do with Scotland DIVORCING itself from England. Yep divorce is a good way to describe it…. because at the moment it’s sounding a lot like this…..

England to Scotland- “You’ll not be able to survive without me AND by the way you have no legal right to try.”

Scotland to England- “Is it a fight yur waantin? Of course there’s a legal process for this and we don’t need your say so. Oh and by the way we’ve always paid our own way. If you think we can’t survive without you think again pal. Anyway we’ve got loads of other pals, our tourist numbers are up by 8% in the last nine months.

England to Scotland- “You’re kidding yourself on you’ve not really thought about this have you?”

Scotland to England- “Whit – don’t be daft we’ve been thinking about this since 1707!”

England to Scotland- “Right well be like that then, so what are you going to do now?”

Scotland talking to itself – “Aye, what are we going to do now?”

Honestly if that doesn’t sound like a divorce then I don’t know what and this little Scottish person remains confused about the whole situation. I should point out that I’m in no way anti-English, but I guess I’m pro Scottish. I’m proud of my Scottish heritage and my heart truly sang back in 1999 when we finally got our Scottish Parliament. This however is a whole different ballgame.

What worries me though is that like divorce there seems to be a huge divide that has sprung up that means any sort of sensible discussion remains an impossible dream. It upsets me when I watch the House of Commons debate and see politicians, during really important debates, checking their ebay purchases, or whatever it is they are doing with their Blackberry. It makes me visibly bristle when I see them shouting at each other or laughing and making fun of a politician because of a statement they’ve made. THESE ARE THE PEOPLE THAT ARE RUNNING OUR COUNTRY!

So I confess I am nowhere near reaching an informed stance on all of this but being the canny Scot that I am I know that ‘nae man can tether time or tide’ [1] so I will do my best to get up to speed and try to consider all of this objectively, engaging my head and not just my heart. There is an old Scottish proverb that says ‘twelve highlanders and a bagpipe make a rebellion’. I just hope that in the months to come when tensions are running high that we also remember something my granny used to say, “never let your feet run faster than your shoes!”

So a political animal is really not me you see but for those who we have voted into power – listen up, “these are really important times – put yur Blackberries away and pay attention!”

I think we need to be careful that our hearts don’t rule our heads on this one.

[1] Robert Burns, Tam o’ Shanter.

All the single ladies…

Quite a few  of the blogs I read are written by single ladies who have found themselves starting out again after what Caroline (a fellow blogger) accurately describes as ‘meltdown’.  Now before you think that these blogs are likely to be a less than positive reflection of life think again.  Many of these bloggers write from both their hearts and their heads.  Their posts share their experiences in ways that identify some of their hurdles but importantly the solutions they have found to move on and, again as Caroline describes, ‘fly’. I only wish that when I was going through this I had been able to tap into such an emotionally savvy, honest and determined bunch of ladies.

I have colleagues and friends who have walked this road and, reflecting on this and my own experiences, this path eventually takes you to the crossroads where you might consider that dipping your toe into the water of relationships again is something you might be willing to do.  Almost everyone I know who finds themselves in this position talks about how difficult it is to meet someone.  I remember my own mother saying to me, “Look you’ve got a lot going for you, get out there and put yourself about a bit”.  Of course I should point out that, bless her, what my mum meant was to go out there and socialise, mix with people.

"Mum, you can't say that!!!"

Lets face it though if we’re honest getting back out there is easier said than done though.

I’ve had a couple of friends that have tried the internet dating thing – something I was never keen to do.  I have however spent many an hour listening to their stories; conversations that would frequently end in either hysterical laughter or tears.  Conversely I also have friends who met their future partners this way – so hey, anything is possible. So in this world of modern technology I can see where the internet can be a valuable tool to meet and connect with people.

With this in mind I just wanted to recount a funny conversation I had today.  I happened to have coffee with a lady that (in her mind at least) took this whole technology/dating thing one step further.

Now this all came about when she was telling me about the Christmas present she bought for herself; a fancy phone that she has now loaded with an array of clever little apps.  Some of you may be familiar with an app called Shazam which, if a song comes on the radio for example and you want to know who sang it you just tap this little app, the phone listens to the music and it matches it.  Not only that but it finds the song on itunes for you and you can effortlessly add it to your music.  Incredibly clever.

Anyhow what this lady was saying was wouldn’t it be wonderful if there was a kind of Shazam like app for single ladies.  She went on to explain her hilarious, but disappointing jaunt into the world of dating (which she is now sworn off as she’s in what she describes as her ‘apathetic phase’).   She’s a pretty cool lady who has a good job and a fairly full life – the only things she says is missing is a relationship, which she desperately wants.  “Wouldn’t it be wonderful”, she said, “if next time I’m at a party I could just tap my little Shazam-A-Man app and it would scan the room and tell me if there are any matches” Brilliant!

Unfortunately the downside is that if anyone else is using Shazam-A-Man then a queue is likely to gather.

Ok she was joking of course but I can see that it would be kind of nifty.  So maybe it’s about time the technology caught up.  Sure I talk to my phone and it will add my appointments to my calendar, my husband can book a holiday and the dates come winging their way over onto my schedule without me having to touch a button – but can it make the dinner?  I rest my case.

So this smart lady in jest maybe has a point although even she acknowledged that there is probably no app in the world that can replace that ‘spark’ you feel when your certain person comes along.

Anyhow it’s Friday, the weekend is upon us, and so for the ladies out there who might be considering dipping their toe in the water I hope your Shazam-A-Man lights up like a Christmas tree:wink:

An important little dash.

I was having breakfast this morning, just the usual stuff, eating toast, drinking coffee, the drifting sound of the radio in the background.  The conversation on the radio show came round to talking about a poem I’d never heard.  It’s called The Dash, by Linda Ellis.  Have you heard it?

Now don’t let this image put you off – stick with me, it will all become clear.  The dash is just that – that little line between the dates and it’s not the dates that matter it’s the dash in-between because it’s the dash that represents our life.  Wow did that make me think, because it’s true isn’t it. From the beginning to the end it’s the bit in between, the dash, that really matters.

Now before you think I’ve gone all morose on you stick with me on this one. I was thinking about this whist I walked to work this morning.  For some reason this poem took me back to a memory that had clearly lodged itself in the back of my head and has been hanging about there hidden for many years.   To tell you about it I have to take you back to my 15-year-old self.  

I’d not long returned to live in Scotland from South Africa where I was a pupil at a rather swanky boarding school.  We’d returned to the UK because my mum and dad were having another stab at separating, which as it turned out was an unsuccessful attempt, at least that’s how my 15-year-old self viewed it (years later, having come through separation and divorce myself I now see this period quite differently).  Let me tell you though if you think divorce is tough for kids to deal with try being a kid whose parents couldn’t make their minds up.  That sounds harsh, but remember it’s my 15-year-old memory talking here.  Anyhow as usual I digress.  So, there I was having come from the beautiful surroundings of a rather nifty public school to find myself in a rather run down, rough state school in Scotland.  To say it was a culture shock was an understatement.  I was the kid with a tan and freckles in the middle of a Scottish winter.  My clothes were different from everyone else and I had no idea how to connect with my peers. In fairness it didn’t take me too long to settle in and I even managed to acquire a couple of boyfriends along the way – which is no mean feat considering I had come from a girl’s boarding school and all of this was new to me (maybe it was the tan and the freckles eh!).  Anyhow as it transpired one of the big school catches, asked me out AND this meant he was taking me to the school dance, whoop, whoop!  All was well until the week before the school dance when a friend called on Sunday night to say that said boyfriend had two-timed me with Lesley, on of our group.  All I could think about was that I had to face everyone at school (who would all know by then) on the Monday morning.  Even I knew it would be the talk of the common room, which when you’re a 15-year-old is a pretty big deal.  Ouch!

Now it would be fair to say that said boyfriend and I were not what you would say a longstanding affair, but I certainly nipped a bit being shunned.  So, on Monday morning standing at the common room door gathering myself together.  Shoulders back I walked into the common room and seeing said boyfriend in the corner of my eye I walked straight over to my group of friends and turned to a rather sheepish looking Lesley.  Without even a quiver in my voice, I said that I had heard about what happened and that I didn’t think things should get in the way of friendships.  Immediately the tension of the situation began to dissipate and gradually people stopped looking at me and got back to their own chatting.  The situation passed.

So why tell this story?  Well in that one moment as a kid I discovered this inner resource, a wee light within me that I called on to light my way.  From a situation that I felt I had no control of I had taken it and turned it around for ME.  It was my defining moment and that light, or whatever you call it, has remained with me.  So, in this dash I think that our defining moments are not in fact necessarily defined by the big things, those big moments in our life, but more the little things that give you a glimpse into yourself, how you can choose to be, react and ultimately shape how people see you.

Said ex boyfriend and I never did speak about this incident.  He went to the dance with Lesley and I went with someone else.  Years later though our paths crossed and his adult self-confessed that my actions that day mighty impressed him (cue smug grin from 22 year old self )

So here’s the poem that dragged this little memory into my consciousness this morning. 

What are your defining moments – and how’s your dash looking today?

MOVE ALONG, NOTHING TO SEE HERE (just a jaded student with a handful of awards to pass out!)

Yippppeeeeeeee – the essay is FINISHED and SUBMITTED.

My deadline was 12noon today and, get me, it was submitted at 11.03am – not like me at all, I’m usually an 11.59 gal.  So having burnt the candle at both ends to get this bloody essay challenging assignment submitted I can’t say that I’m not glad to see the back of it.  It was not my finest piece of work, but I remain confident of a pass at best and at least I know I can expect reams and reams constructive criticism from my tutor David.

So, now I have time to pass on these lovely awards that have been bestowed on me.

Firstly the 7 x 7 award which was given to me by the lovely Vix at Stay Out of My Head.  Actually her blog should probably be called “Why don’t you just pull up a chair and have a good root around and see what you find to make you laugh out loud”.  She’s a funny, talented lady and I’m thrilled that she has passed this award on to me.  So having thanked Vix my task is to tell you something about myself that nobody knows.  Nobody?  Really?  That’s kind of a tough call.  Ok here goes.

When I was 7 years old my ballet teacher was into yoga and for fun she taught us how to stand on our head (with hands on floor, legs crossed with your knees on your elbows).  Anyhow I discovered I could do this for quite a staggering length of time and guess what – having checked this morning I still can, although the recovery period is much longer now (sigh).  It’s just as well actually that I can still do this otherwise I have no idea what I was going to have to disclose. Anyhow I know this is pretty difficult to visualise so I googled it for an image and hey, it must be a pretty rare talent as this is all I could find in the whole of the internet

Please ONLY try this with clothes ON if you're giving it a go for the first time!

So my nominations for the 7 x 7 award are:-

Eduthusiast - A mum of five ranging from pre-school age to adult, Grandmother of Three, Geek, Student, Mass Communications Major, Entrepreneur, Joomla Junkie, I ❤ Social Media, Lactivist, & Grandmother. Passionate about Education, HumanRights, NewMedia Photography, Journalism and Life.  This is a lady who believes that in your quest for knowledge you need Education + Enthusiasm = Eduthusiast!

My So Called Dutch Life – A Scottish lady after my own heart who writes posts like ‘The Nights are Fair Drawin in” which in Scottish speak is “Gosh isn’t it getting dark early!”.  Anyhow she blogs about her life in Rotterdam and, having just got herself a new job I’m looking forward to hearing how she’s getting on.

Rosierushtone - Rosie, a fellow OU student, writes an incredibly honest, take it or leave it blog.  She has a passion for music and owns a guitar, banjo and a banjolouki (which is a cross between a mandola and a banjo).  Rosie is the lovely lady who sent me the song which you will find on my “Grey Period” page.

Carridwen’s Cauldron- You can expect wit, wisdom, humour, nonsense, rants and raves all brewed up with a more than pinch of individuality and then some.  I’ll warn you now though, it takes some going keeping up with this lady – it’s not a planner she needs it’s a personal assistant.  I will say this though, this lady always comes up with the goods, a great read.

Exit Only – A columnist and a writer this lady is one smart cookie. Terry has a wonderful ability to weave her own unique brand of humour through her posts.  Go and check out her “Background” page if you don’t believe me.

Gilraensblog – This lady lived in the UK, NZ and has returned to the Netherlands to live.  She blogs about sewing, knitting, cooking and baking amongst other things and has hobbies like skietsen and geocaching (that I had to look up ).  Gilrean is also interested in art and yoga (oh no I can feel a comment coming telling me the above is NOT a yoga position

Poor Cow in France – A french lady who spent most of her adult life in England.  ”Poor Cow” (gosh it just doesn’t feel right somehow to call her that she’s lovely) now lives in the French Alps with her two children.  She started blogging in the aftermath of a very abrupt separation in January 2011 as she felt she needed to do something creative  so blogging was her creative pursuit of choice as, she admits, she is useless at knitting or pottery.  This lady always finishes with a song.  Go check her out.

So thats my  7 x 7 award and I’m happy to pass it on to the above much deserving folk.  Moving swiftly on.

This ‘One Lovely Blog Award’ is for blogs that make you feel good after you’ve visited and I’m thrilled that Lorna from Lorna’s Voice passed this on to me.  Another smart cookie she is the winner of oodles of awards (deservedly so) including the Dark Globe Blogger of the Year Award.  I’ve been reading Lorna’s blog since I started blogging when she was Freshly Pressed.  She’s a prolific blogger who has a wicked sense of humour.  So to pass on this award I would like it to wing it’s way  to the following bloggers:-

Stay Out of My Head – for all of the reasons above (and not just because she gave me the 7 x 7 award) but also because as a mother, writer, partner, worry-wart, over-thinker, secret-keeper, slightly deranged (her words not mine) lady who doesn’t suffer fools gladly but will gladly be one.  Her blog is a damn fine read that always makes your mouth turn upwards.

Lyndarenhamcook - Lynda writes about her life and all it’s madness.  She’s a published author and she is also the only lady I know that claims to eat copious amounts of yogurt and avoids chocolate (yeh right Lynda we believe you – only kidding ).  Her posts are funny and interesting and always lift my day.

Joanna Dobson – a very gentle and beautiful blog Joanna is a fiftysomething undergraduate; passionate reader; writer in training and she blogs about books, words and other things that make her happy.  Oh and she also takes some damn fine photographs.

Angry Pear – If you’re looking for ‘feel good factor’ blogs then without a shadow of a doubt look no further than Angry Pear.  Illustrated by Drew McKevitt Angry Pear is about, well it’s about pears, their troubles, their joys and their anger.  Angry Pear is a recurring character who, through Drew’s wonderful illustrations, you will quickly realise that Angry Pear is angered by everything and everyone.  Can she really be blamed?  Go check her out.  I know that you won’t be disappointed.

I’ve Survived and I’m “Flying”! - Caroline’s blog has taken her from marriage meltdown to sensational survivor.  Now training to be a life coach her blog is incredibly informative and, in only the way Caroline can,  her writing dares me to think about life positively.  Her blogs generate lots of comments and discussion and the information she shares about her reading, learning and experiences are, judging by the comments, valued by those who follow her blog.

So I’m happy to have received these lovely awards and delighted to pass them on – looking forward to seeing who you all nominate  Congratulations.

A HUGE thank you lovely bloggers…

OK listen up peeps because I have lots to say today.

Firstly a HUGE thank you to all you lovely bloggers who came to my aid yesterday with your tips in my quest to find a better balance with study and life.  The wisdom you shared has given me much to think about, and even better than that a plan.  He’s what I’ve come up with…..

Firstly it’s good to know that I’m not alone in trying to manage the eternal struggle.  Gilraen highlighted that it’s important to pinpoint where the stress levels hit the roof and suggests thinking of things in life that you can ‘hand back’ even for a short while.  This is also echoed by Caridwen who suggests making peace with the fact that life is cyclical, also imparting words of wisdom not to ‘sacrifice yourself not the Mommy alter’.  Kana also acknowledges to having learnt that in achieving balance you have to let go of stuff – you can’t handle everything all of the time. Phil identified with feeling exhausted by the time he got home, finding that exhaustion and trying to take on board new learning and thinking is not the best combination – his solution to this was to set the alarm, get up early and, in the quiet time when the house was sleeping, he found a productive window for study.  Lorna offered words of wisdom in identifying non negotiable important family time and ‘must do study time’.  By doing this you can achieve a balance that means that you feel you are there for your family 100% but also are able to feel you are 100% student.  All of the wisdom you shared also had a thread running through that highlighted that having ‘me’ time is crucial and as Lorna pointed out ‘in the balancing act we often forget the performer (ourselves)’.  The lovely Joanna also came up with a good suggestion for holding onto these important study thoughts and breakthroughs that come unscheduled first thing in the morning or last thing at night – keep a book beside your bed and jot them down – that way they don’t disappear into the world of sleep or morning bleariness.

So thank you all – as a result of all your suggestions here is my game plan.

1. Two or three times a week I’m going to set my alarm for 5am – giving me protected quiet study time.
2. I’ve acknowledged that my timetable manages me rather than me managing my time – I’m going to rejig this so that the balance between study time and family time is more obvious to all – including me!
3. There are things that are going to have to go on the back burner now and then – and that’s OK.
4. I need to have ‘me’ time.  I’ve said before that there are books I want to read (and the list is growing). I’m going to schedule in time to take myself off to my lovely bedroom and immerse myself in the books waiting to be read and enjoyed.
5. I now have a candle on my desk….. I’ll explain that one.

I picked up this little tip from another Open University student. You see part of my challenge I think is a boundary one. I share a work/study space with my teenage son and part of the challenge is that this gets confused with ‘talking to mum about stuff time’. Last night we negotiated that if the candle on my desk is lit then it’s study time. It’s ok to interrupt me to ask for help with homework, but any other chat has to be saved for another time. This seemed to have filtered through on a level although he did say, “What happens if the candle accidentally blows out – does that mean I can talk to you?” Maybe we still have to do a little bit of work on that one, but I’m sticking with it. Also it’s a scented candle so it’s rather pleasant actually.

Quite a few of you also talked about work living in your head and that learning happens when your driving, have a quiet minute in your day etc. I know for me I can often squeeze in a bit of reading, half an hour here and there. The difficulty for me is that lugging about my books is having a serious impact on my back problem. So, I’ve decided to look into buying a Kindle or the likes which allows me to carry around my reading without looking, and feeling, like a sherpa. This would mean that my bag of a day would look more like this….

rather than this….

My husband, in his wisdom has also scheduled some time away for us – in March we’re off to Madrid and in May to Milan. A small Kindle like thing will mean that I don’t have to give over all my luggage allowance to books and I can remain up to speed with my reading – hence reducing the stress of leaving my studies behind and truly being able to enjoy my breaks away.

I also have a couple of other BIG thank you’s to make as two lovely bloggers have passed on some awards to little old me. Vix at Stay Out of My Head nominated me for the 7 x 7 Link Award, which I’m very grateful for, particularly as she is a lady after my own heart.  Her blog is wickedly funny and then some – certainly worth a click on her ‘subscribe’ button.

Secondly last night I received an award from Lorna at Lorna’s Voice.  Lorna has followed my blog since the days when I took my first baby steps.  She is a hugely talented writer with a plethora of well deserved awards. I am very grateful that she chose to pass on to me the “One Lovely Blog Award’, an award which she indicates recognises a blog that makes you feel good after you’ve visited it.  How nice is that!

I promise, once my university work is submitted to get around to the lovely job of passing these awards on, but meantime I know you will understand that I need to prioritise my writing time (gosh I’m starting to sound like a lady who is managing to balance study and life eh )

Finally…..yes Im getting there – stick with me, I folk you I had a lot to say. I wonder if you have noticed that WordPress have issued us all with Annual Report for 2011 on our blog.  Having only been blogging since April I am staggered to learn that if my wee blog were a New York City subway train it would take 7 trips to carry the number of people who’ve read my blog (or at least viewed it)!  In addition to this I learn that the subscribers to my blog are pretty far-flung – I had no idea…..

UK, Italy, Netherlands, France, Portugal, India, Israel, Malaysia, Philipines, Indonesia, Australia, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea, US, Canada, Mexico, Costa Rica, dominican Republic, Brazil, Columbia, Argentina, South Africa, Egypt, Morocco, Botswana, Tunisia.  So to all of you…..

If you haven’t already checked out your Annual Report you will find this on your Stats page just above the bar chart.  Your report also comes with a nifty little fireworks display where your posts are represented by fireworks akin to the number of views each post had.  Some days I admit were a bit of a damp squib for me but others, well I was fair tickled to see the sky lighting up.

Go check it out, it’s fun to see.

Passing on awards post coming before the end of the week

And the challenge ….

……. should you choose to accept it, is trying to balance study and life.

There, I’ve said it.  Why?  Well because it seems to be a bit of a struggle for me at the moment so I thought I would write this post in the hope of sorting things out in my head and also, if I’m lucky, get some tips from my fellow bloggers out there who also juggle study.

What I’ve discovered is that life can be unpredictable.  OK I work full time, but I’m also a mum and a wife and for any of you with a family you will know that the ebb and flow of family life is not as predictable as the tides.  What IS predictable are my studies.  I have a timetable to follow, dates for assignments to be lodged and exam to sit.  Regardless of what is going on in life this timetable doesn’t deviate.  So how do you balance the predictable with the unpredictable?

Family Matters

I’ve noticed that as I progress through my studies, particularly when I’m preparing and writing an essay to be graded, it takes up residence in my head.  I wake up in the morning thinking about it and it lives with me until I submit it.  It’s during these times that I’ve noticed that I find it hardest to juggle family life. It is less to do with time management and more to do with managing thinking space in my head.  Does that make any sense?

I wish.....

So that’s my quandary folks.  How do you balance things?  Am I missing something?

I know from reading all your blogs that you’re all busy out there but if anyone has the time to wing by and pass on their wisdom I’d really appreciate it

Space, the final frontier

This is going to be a big year – we are taking steps to extend our home and with it comes a bigger kitchen for me.  I say me because the kitchen is really my room in the house, not that I’m some crazy cook that isn’t prepared to share it.  Of course I am.  That’s not how it works though.  When I’m cooking I generally have the kitchen to myself.  My son is usually off in his bedroom engrossed in some computer game and as I cook I can hear my husband tick, tick typing upstairs on his beloved computer.  This suits me fine.  I love to cook, it’s my destresser.  Why is it though that at the point when I really need the kitchen to myself (i.e when I’m trying to put out the food I’ve prepared) do both my husband and son suddenly have a need to be in the kitchen?  Every time – what’s that about.

How the Waltons managed I'll never know

Now this wouldn’t be a problem, but to explain when my husband bought the house he was a batchelor and the kitchen was, well the size a batchelor needs.  Now there are four of us and two cats and, well, need I explain.

Hurry up will you, they're ALL going to be in the kitchen in a minute!

So extending our home will also mean a bigger kitchen.  I’m so excited I can’t tell you.  Now I’m not into big fancy stuff.  I’m a basic kind of gal, but having the space so that we can ALL be in the kitchen at the same time will be wonderful.

Space is a bit of an issue in our house you see.  My husband is an avid collector at auctions, then I moved in (with my stuff), then my mother in law moved in.  Lets just say it’s been interesting.  We struggle to decide what should stay and what should go.  Now that we are also going to be building I come out in a cold sweat thinking about how it’s all going to fit together.

Oh it’s not the dust and the mess that bothers me much.  It’s where we are going to put everything when all of this is going on.  It dawned on me today that perhaps I’ve been looking at this all wrong.  In my head I’ve been trying to think of a way of doing all of this whilst still making things kind of manageable in the house.  What was I thinking?  For example when I’m writing an essay that needs to be in for my Open University course you only have to look at my desk to know what stage I’m at.  It begins all organised and then the closer I get to finishing it to more paper and mess I’ve created that to any innocent bystander it would look as though I’m really floundering.  Not so, this is how I work.  Despite the chaos; things on the wall, books stewn about the desk and the floor I know exactly where everything is and what I’m doing.  So, maybe this is how it is just going to be when we build.

OK I know it doesn't look it but I know EXACTLY what I'm doing - honest!

So yes we have far too much furniture, and yes I will be cooking dinner tonight and everyone will descend on the kitchen as usual but one day hopefully, like they used to do in the Starship Enterprise we will be embarking on ‘space, the final frontier’ – at least it will be for my bunch of happy campers

Captain I think we should wait until the kitchen has calmed down before we make a cup of tea - she looks as though she might attack.

So, if anyone out there has any tips on creating a harmonious working kitchen all suggestions will be gratefully received.

Hitting the right balance, whatever that is….

Now I will be the first to say that I am no superwoman.  I could probably be best described as disorganised yet driven with a dash of unpredictable workload, looming coursework deadlines and the usual mix of family highs and lows peppered with caring responsibilities.

Checking in this morning to my various Open University (OU) forums, the forum dedicated to carers was depressing reading – or was it? I embarked on my studies before I became a carer, so I’m able to reflect on things from both sides. Research shows that many carers want to participate in learning and training opportunities but they often experience real difficulties in doing so.

Carers experience all sorts of problems; financial for one.  If you qualify for Carers Allowance (which I don’t) you have to meet the strict criteria.  If you are awarded this means tested benefit the government pay you £55.55 per week.  This is based on providing care for a minimum of 35 hours per week, which if you work it out makes the hourly rate less that £1.60 per hour.  Yes that’s £1.60 per hour, and when you take into account that the minimum wage is £6.08 per hour in the UK this reflects just one of the significant divides experience by carers.

In addition you have to be over 21 for Carers Allowance, so young carers don't qualify!

Once you sort out the financial side of things then there is the problem of finding time to dedicate to your course.  Most carers I know for example don’t manage to attend tutorials. That may not be a big deal, but I know many feel guilty and challenged by this.  Many struggle with fitting in day to day stuff, that’s before you even get to the scheduling in hospital/GP appointments and working around day centres, travel etc.  It’s not hard to see that there are many obstacles that seem unsurmountable.This has thankfully not been my experience.  I’m fortunate that at home we work as a team.

Teamwork Rules OK!

The carers I notice who appear to struggle most are those are sole carers, folks that are doing the job single-handed.  The sole carers I have crossed virtual paths with through the OU they sometimes are unaware of the support that is available.  That’s where the forums come in handy.  Other students respond (and quickly at that) to questions and concerns these student carers have.  The information they share is absolutely invaluable.  OK sure if you sat down and trawled through the OU site you would probably come across the myriad of support and flexibility offered to carers who are studying, but in reality I haven’t met a carer yet who isn’t time challenged.  So these forums really are invaluable.

One thing I have noticed though is that there is a bit of a hierarchy of carers, not imposed by carers themselves, but by society.  If, like me, you work and have caring responsibilities you are sometimes not viewed as a ‘real’ carer.  I can understand where people are coming from however being a carer is such a person journey and the juggle of emotion and responsibility is both a challenge and a joy.  I’m thick skinned enough not to mind if people think that I don’t have as many responsibilities as ‘full time’ carers but only because our family have worked hard to make that so.

At the end of the day the thing I’ve noticed as being the biggest challenge for carers who study is not so much the financial stuff (there are ways around this and lost of fees waived etc) or the finding time to meet deadlines and get course work done / exam revision planned and started. What I think most carers struggle with is finding the headspace to truly immerse themselves in coursework.  Sometimes it just isn’t possible to shut yourself away and get on with what you need to do.  Interruptions are common and it’s not just about the time you have to study it’s about the quality of the time you have to study.  In truth this is something I continually struggle with.

So having read some of the messages this morning on the OU Carers Forum although I can identify with most of them my heart is also lifted by the encouragement and practical support that such a forum provides.  I know that being a carer can be a very isolating experience and sometimes you just don’t have the energy to source the support you need.  I can understand how, in no small way, the support the OU offers carers is invaluable on lots of levels, not just in helping them progress through their studies.

Anyhow today I thought I would just give a bit of a shout out to all these carers out there who have taken the plunge and are sticking with it.  I appreciate that study isn’t for everyone but it’s nice to know that there are opportunities for carers out there to pursue their study goals.  I know that my OU tutor is hugely supportive but I am acutely aware that, for me, only way I manage to study is because of a very important approach to life that we have in our home – our approach is ‘teamwork’.  Without it I would be floundering in the dark.

So I’d just like to say a HUGE thank you to my wee team – you know who you are and I am very, very grateful.

So, this resolution thing…….

Last year I was fairly focussed and decided to try a different tack with the old New Year’s Resolution thingy. Mine was to smile more. Not as much a cop-out as you might think. Smiling I find helps me focus on the positivity, something we all need in this life. OK I confess I can be rubbish at coping with stress and I’m also a born worrier. It doesn’t take an expert to figure out that one of the first things that goes is your ability to smile. The thing I discovered was that I didn’t notice this happening – so I set out to change it, and I did.

This year however, as I sit at my desk having returned to work I might still be kind of smiling but I have no resolution (lets face it it’s just ridiculous to attempt more than one, isn’t it?) I have no resolution because I haven’t even had the time to give this any serious consideration. Mmmm what does that say about me eh?

Ok let’s think about this. The holiday was a kind of holiday, but those of you who have a family will know that your commitments during the holiday go through the roof and your time is seriously challenged. Sure I got time to put my feet up but my days were void of routine and that my friends is where it seriously unravels for me.

I need routine – OK not a rigid routine, but I find that routine helps me balance things. Towards the end of the holiday I could feel myself getting stressed and edgy at the thought of returning to work. Interestingly instead of looking forward to the routine I was dreading it. So, maybe my resolution should be to give serious consideration to a routine that works for me. Should I be writing more lists? I’m not really a list person but I do think I need a plan. I mean what kind of person can’t find time in her head and her day to come up with a New Years Resolution?

I like to think of resolutions as things that are positive, rather than denying yourself something. So, for example, instead of giving up chocolate or losing weight then I would be more likely to think of eating healthier – and hopefully the rest will follow. So what positive things would I like for 2012?

I would like to have more protected study time – I need this if I am truly going to knock my amazing capacity to procrastinate on the head.

I would like more quality time with my husband – just him and I.  Sometimes life just keeps happening around about you and it gets difficult to just stop and be.

I would like to read more.  Sure I study but I mean read stuff that I just want to read, not just the stuff I have to read.

I would like to sleep better.  Me and 3am are just too friendly for comfort.

I would like to get back to running.

OK so there is a bit of a pattern here. Routine. If I managed my routine better then most of the above are more likely to fall into place.

So folks I think I’ve just had an epiphany moment. My New Year’s Resolution is to learn to prioritise and to dig deep and say no to some of the things that get in the way of me studying, spending time with my husband, eating and sleeping better and getting my trainers on and hitting the pavement.

Oh and as last year’s resolution was such a success I think I’m going to keep it going. In 2012 I’m going to be smiling more – fancy joining me?

Red Alert for Scotland

Well this is the last night of my holiday – back to work tomorrow.  It was a Bank Holiday today, so most folks were enjoying a day off.  Just as well really as it was blowing a hoolie in Scotland.

Last night the Met Office issued an Amber Warning, so our rather excited weather chappie on the tellie told us.  Then at 8.30 this morning the alert was escalated to RED.  Panic, panic!!!!!

Actually to be fair the Highlands of Scotland got off lightly for a change. It was the central belt that was badly hit, with winds of 102mph recorded in Edinburgh.

This was all unfolding as we were having breakfast this morning.  Listening to Radio Scotland  some quick thinker, in light of the lack of any other news, had scheduled a phone in so that folk could call and have a right good moan about report what damage/difficulties the weather was causing in their area.  Listening it became clear that this was quickly becoming a bit of a competition to see who was experiencing the worst of “Hurricane It’s Blowin a Hoolie”.  Lets just say that the guy who said he was thinking twice about whether or not to take the dog out was not really in the running.

Of course there were the calls complaining that we should have more warning (note to Mother Nature – could we have more warning next time) suggesting that had the Met Office been quicker to issue the Red warning people wouldn’t have attempted to make the journeys they did into the chaos.

Now lets be honest about this, every year the snow falls and the news reports are full of cars being dug out, folk being rescued.  You can look out the window and know that the snow is so bad that you’re not going to make it, but every year people come over all invincible and just go for it .  We’re used to the snow but I think what happened today is that folk just thought, “it’s only a bit blustery I’ll be fine” as they stepped over the fallen tree in the driveway.

So lets back track a little, we got an Amber Warning, which is like “look it’s going to be pretty bad out there you need to give some serious thoughts to whether the journey is absolutely necessary”.  When it became a RED ALERT then really it’s like the Met Office shouting “GET BACK INTO YOUR HOUSE NOW”.

So if any Scottish folk are reading this, next time the Weather Guy tell us it’s a Red Alert we need to stop translating this as “you’ll need to put your boots on and make sure your hood is up”.  It’s dangerous out there guys, take care.

Maybe today was not the best day to take the kids out for a walk eh?

2011 – the best bits

All in all this has been a pretty good year, and I will be kind of sad to say cheerio to 2011.  But what were the best bits.

Study

Well for me the fact that I am still a Mature Student Hanging in There has got to be up there.  Fitting study in with everything else remains a struggle and I can’t say I’m getting better at the juggle, but it would be fair to say that study has become such an important part of my life that I know I would be lost without it.  This year I secured a level 2 pass and forge ahead with my Level 3 course – the highest level I need to study for my degree. So far I’m hanging in there with that too.

Feel the fear and do it anyway....

My Blog

This year saw the start of my wee blog in April.  Since my first post I have gone on to keep the postings coming and my wee blog has an important place in my heart.  The best bit of course is that in my travels in blogland I have come into contact with some pretty amazing bloggers, all sharing their stories.

Home Life

Now this has been an area where there is much change.  For one 2011 has been the year when my husband and I won our epic battle with the local Authority to secure planning permission to extend our home.  It was a journey and a half and bits of it were, how can I put it bloody terrible rather challenging, but we did it and I’m proud that through sheer hard work and determination we got there in the end.

Me with our happy band of builders

Caring

We’ve now been carers for 2 years (or is it 3 – life passes so quickly).  We’ve fought the system and kind of won in this area too.  However 2012, I have no doubt, will present us all with new challenges and as carers we need to be ready to step up to the mark.  I don’t know that we’ve really managed the juggle here, being carers is such a huge responsibility, but we’ve done our best, and remain grateful for support from family.

Actually having a Holiday

This was a big highlight.  Peter and I have been married for 3 years and this was our first proper holiday away together.  I said at the time, and I’ll say it again, it was the best holiday I’ve ever had.

Being a Mum

Well despite not having ‘the manual’ I seem to have made it through another year of being a mum.  Not just a mum, but I think a good mum – certainly not an easy thing to do.  Sure I’ve made mistakes and there are things I could do better, but hey I’m human – we’re all still standing.

My boy and his girlfriend, Saffron going to the school dance 2011

Not taking yourself too seriously….. Well this year I’ve embarked on my grey period and having stepped away from the hair dye for almost 4 months now I’m surprised to discover that there isn’t quite as much grey as I’d imagined. 2011 also allowed for opportunities to do a bit of raising money for charity and The Race for Life, in support of breast cancer was definitely a highlight (just not at the time as I came wheezing over the finish line and collapsing into my mother in law’s wheelchair).

Work

Well I never did get that job I went after this year, but the process of applying for another job caused me to reflect on opportunities in my current job – things as they say are looking up (but I’m still on the look out for that new job – so come on 2012, lets see what you can do eh!

As I’m a glass half full kind of gal I’ve decided to focus on the highs, but of course we all have lows.  I don’t always get this life stuff right, but I’m nothing if not a trier.

I think the final word for 2011 and as we march into 2012 should go to Dr Seuss….

So what were your best bits of 2011 – and what will you take with you into 2012?

We’ll tak a cup o kindness yet

Well the year is drawing to a close and like most superstitious Scottish women the year end is marked by important traditions.

Now I wouldn’t say I stick to them rigidly but there are things that always mark the end of the year for me.  For one on the last day of the year I am like a crazy woman trying to get the house tidy.  It’s unlucky to bring in the New Year in with a house that’s untidy.  No washing, ironing and certainly no dishes.  The bin must be emptied and the house must be warm and cosy with traditional food like black bun, shortbread oh and of course a glass or two to toast at the bells.

Of course if you read this blog regularly you will know that I ain’t no crazy housewife in the domestic department, but I will do my bit tomorrow in the spirit that has been drummed into me by my mother and grandmother.  As I go about my task this is always marked by one thing, I am frequently tearful.  Yes I will be that woman going about my business tomorrow bursting into tears on a fairly regular basis.  It won’t be the arduous housework workout that will bring this on it will be the stream of memories that will flood through my head and heart tomorrow. Memories of New Years past and people no longer there to toast at the bells.

My husband knows this of course.  At the prospect of spending the day trying to duck out of the way of a blubbering, snottery wife with red eyes and a Dyson going like the clappers he has opted for a trip to Aberdeen to meet up with our architect.  I am pleased to have the opportunity to get the whole thing out of my system ready to change into my party frock and put a bit of lippy on.  When he returns both the house and me will be transformed and ready to celebrate the New Year.

For me New Year is of course summed up by one famous song, Auld Lang Syne.  For some it is seen as an expression of friendship and hope.  For others it is about remembering the past and re-affirming the future.  I’ve been singing it since I was a little girl and I think it is all of these things.  Here’s the words, and the translation.

Should old acquaintances be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
And auld lang syne?

This first verse means…that old acquaintances should be forgotten and never remembered for long ago.  Then the chorus….

For auld lang  syne, my dear
For auld Lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

The chorus tells us….For old long ago, my dear, for old long ago, we’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for old long ago.  The next verse…

And there’s a hand my trusty fiere,
And gie’s a hand o thine
And we’ll tak a right guid-willie waught,
For auld lang sine

This means…. and there’s a hand my trusty friend and give me a hand of yours, and we’ll take a good drink/toast for old long ago.

There are two other verses but these are the ones, with the chorus that are usually sung.

So I give this to you for the New Year.  I’ll be humming it and greeting (crying) as I do my housework, but not sad tears, just memories – for old long ago.

The other important tradition is ‘the first foot’ which is the first person over your door in the New Year.  It is said that it is lucky for it to be a dark haired man.  He must have something to eat with him, a bottle and a piece of coal.  Bringing his good will with him this should ensure that your house is happy, warm and food is aplenty throughout the year.

Now I know some of you gals who read my blog are without a man in your life, so my wish for you is that your first footer is tall, dark and handsome and doesn’t just bring a bottle and a bit of shortbread. Who knows they might even throw in a New Year snog if you’re up for it

For everyone though that has taken the time to stop by my wee blog this year I give you a cup of kindness to carry you into 2012.  Whatever else we have in our lives we all need kindness and I wish this for you.

I leave you with the lovely Eddi Reader singing Auld Lang Syne at the opening of the Scottish Parliament.  Happy New Year when it comes folks

A special delivery and a Tunnocks Tea Cake

It feels like the side of our house is about to come off.  We are currently being battered by 90mph winds and the rain is pelting against the window.  It’s been like that for most of the day and it there doesn’t seem to be any sign of it letting up.

Venturing out today however was for a very good reason.

Yes it would have been easier to stay in with my feet tucked in my warm slippers and dip into my stash of Christmas chocolates but sometimes a gal’s got to do what a gal’s got to do.  Today I had an appointment to give blood.

I’ve only been a blood donor for a year but it’s something I’m determined to stick to.  Reading an article in the local paper this morning warning that blood stocks were low in our area made me even more determined to keep my appointment, despite the howling gale.

Arriving at the local Blood Donor Centre I was met by an abundance of staff, but very few folk donating.  I was whisked through in record time and before I knew it I was hooked up for my donation.  Then something wonderful happened.  Chatting to the guy who was in charge of my gushing arm (I know it’s never that dramatic, but hey it’s my blog and it makes me sound much braver than I really am) he remarked on the queue – sure enough in the space of 10 minutes they were queued out of the door with people waiting to make their donation.

It seems that there were plenty of others also willing to brave the elements to try to improve the low blood stock situation.  So, yes it’s true giving blood makes you feel good.  I now have a warm glow – and it’s not just because they give you a hot cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit.  But hey if there are Tunnock’s Tea Cakes on the go then count this gal in every time.  I think that’s a pretty fair swap for a pint of blood, don’t you?

Hello laptop I’ve missed you. Have you missed me?

This is the first minute I’ve had a chance to sit down and open my laptop for what seems like ages.  I have no idea what is going on in the world and I’m scared to even attempt to start reading the gazillions of emails that have landed in my in box.  So yes, my wee laptop has been sitting redundant in the corner for days now as the only appliances I’ve used have all been kitchen based.  My oven is groaning from overuse and the dishwasher is quivering in the corner.

I have, as they say, cooked for Scotland.  Family and friends have been fed – not one but two Christmas meals cooked – endless cups of tea, coffee, pots of soup, sandwiches, glasses filled and refilled, sweetie papers picked up and binned.  Now, oh joy oh joy it’s just me and my little laptop.

They say this is the holiday season.  Holiday!  Well it might be for everyone else but for the cook in the house there is really precious little time to kick back.  Now don’t get me wrong, I love to cook and I am by and large a pretty organised cook – but when that last visitor leaves I’ll be honest and say that there will be a bit of a spring in my step.  I need to chill.

What’s the chance of closing the kitchen until New Years Day?  Yeh, I know I didn’t think so either.

Tonight however will give me a break because its’ leftover night – no cooking.  To top that off son is off out with girlfriend, my mother in law is snoozing, happy but weary from visitors, so the best of the day is yet to come. Hooray for a quiet night and some Christmas TV.

So happy Christmas blogland.  My wee laptop and I wish you all a quiet night too.

We’re on the countdown – but in our own kind of way…

The penny dropped last night and my husband finally acknowledged that Christmas ain’t far away.  ”We need a list” he said!  I smiled.

Actually to be fair he began approaching Christmas with some trepidation a couple of days ago – he bought our tree  Now you may recall that there was a bit of discussion in our house this year about whether we would have a real tree or whether we would invest in an artificial one that we could drag out every year.  I left it to Peter to decide and waiting with some excitement to see what he came up with.  Hooray folk, we have a tree, it’s up AND, best of all IT’S REAL!!!!

It’s true, when the tree goes up it seems to send out this signal to everyone in the house that it’s almost THAT time. My son has had his school dance, Christmas cards continue to be delivered on a daily basis and we’ve started thinking about our Christmas food preparations – well I have anyway.

There are only the four of us this year. Myself and Peter, my son Spencer and Peter’s mum, Sylvia. Normally we would have Christmas lunch in the conservatory, as that’s where the dining table is, however this year things need to be tweaked a bit. There are lots of different levels and stairs in our house and it became apparent that stairs are definitely a challenge Sylvia could do without on Christmas day. So, we hatched a plan. Rather than focus on her frailty we mentioned, as we were putting up the tree ,that the conservatory is really quite cold at this time of year and that we thought we would have Christmas lunch in her little apartment in the house. I said, “well if you think about it you came to us for Christmas dinner last year, so we thought we would come to you this year”. Sensitive though this was (it can’t be easy facing up to the frailty that comes to you when you’re 94) she was delighted. I later heard her on the phone telling an elderly friend that ‘everyone’ was coming to her for Christmas this year.  A big part of being a carer is trying to help people maintain their independence and drive – I think our plan worked – RESULT!

So, last night, feeling rather smug about how things were all falling into place, I sat drinking my coffee and flicking through one of this ‘how to have the perfect Christmas’ magazines.  Granted it was dated 2010 – but hey if you’re looking for perfection does it really matter what year you aim for?  It was the worst thing I could have done.  The magazine, full of pictures of shiny happy people, perfect houses decorated in beautiful homemade decorations that apparently “are so easy to make” are just a million miles away from what our house is going to be at Christmas.  We will be just delighted if we can manage to get the table into Sylvia’s little sitting room and provide a Christmas lunch that fits with all the necessary bits and bobs that our family love.  Of course the difficulty is that we don’t all love the same things so I will have to pitch it somewhere in the middle.

So as for the perfect Christmas 2010 – if I’m honest I didn’t aim for achieve it last Christmas and having flung the magazine in the recycling pile I don’t think I’m going to be attempting it this year either.  I think I’ll just aim for some reality wrapped in tinsel with enough love and hilarity to make our Christmas day special. That my friends will be good enough for me.

Calling all bloggers

You know when you start out blogging and you think no one will read your stuff.  When I started writing in April this year I knew nothing about blogging, neither did I really know any other bloggers come to think of it.  Well it just so happened that Lorna stumbled across my blog. Not only did she subscribe but she continues to be a loyal follower of my ramblings, for which I am grateful.  Lorna comments regularly, so you may have come across her here.  Her comments are always insightful and peppered with kindness and encouragement.

Lorna’s Voice is about “giving a public voice to her thoughts about certain aspects of her daring journey that most people call life”.  Lorna continues to surprise me.  She is one funny lady and a seriously good blogger.

ANYHOW I’ve discovered that Lorna has been shortlisted as one of the finalists in The Dark Globe Outstanding Artists Award for Blogger of the Year. What can I say but….WOW!

Anyhow I just thought I would give Lorna a shout out.  Lorna’s Voice – is one of the blogs you will find listed on my blogroll and I thought I would just pass this information on in case you may wish to vote.

Needless to say Lorna has got my vote, although it seems from looking at the other finalists that the competition is really tough with other fantastic blogs to chose from.  Of course you’re free to chose from the list of finalists as you wish.  Anyhow in the spirit of promoting blogging I’m passing this on – you can find more out about it and vote by leaving your comment detailing your nomination here.

While you’re there you might want to check out the other categories too!

Well a surprise BEFORE Christmas

Would you believe it another Open University student, Rosie has nominated me for this….

How lovely is that. Thank you so much Rosie.  I enjoy reading Rosie’s blog, not just because she is also an Open University person, but because wears her blog on her sleeve and I admire her honesty in the posts she writes.

For this award, I have to share 10 things that you may not know about me. Then I have to pass the award on to at least six other bloggers.

Ok so here goes.  Mmmmm 10 things.  I kinda think you probably know quite a lot about me dear reader, but I’ll give it a go.

1. I have a small tattoo of a cherry on my hip.
2. As a child others kids thought I was strange because liquorice was my sweet of choice – still is.
3. When I was pregnant with my son I developed Bells Palsy – which left me with a paralysed left side of my face throughout my pregnancy and I had to wear an eye patch – mine was pink, very trendy – NOT!
4. The highest mark I ever achieved from one of my assignments was 97%. I then went on to achieve a distinction in the exam – go mature student!
5. OK this is getting quite hard now….. oh I know I’m a Leo.
6. I don’t have a bucket list, but one day, I’ve decided I’m going to try to write a book.
7. My favourite new toy is my iPhone, except Siri can’t understand my Scottish accent.
8. I have a terrible sense of direction and frequently get lost.
9. I still cry at school productions, recitals etc – even if I don’t have a child in it (much to the embarrassment of my son).
10. I’ve kissed the Blarney Stone in Ireland – to do this you have to climb to the top of the castle and lean backwards over the edge to kiss this stone backwards AND upside down.  Having done it though it qualifies me as a chief chatty person.

Ok so that’s me, now on to you guys.  In no particular order I would like to nominate the following bloggers to receive the Kreativ Blogger Award….

I’ve Survived and I’m Ready to Fly

My So Called Dutch Life

Running Naked with Scissors

Four is a Family

The Big Blue Mess

Gilraensblog

So thank you again Rosie – and as for the nominees – go forth and nominate!

Life has a way of surprising you….thankfully!

Doesn’t it?

I remember when I was a single parent, living in a wee cottage right at the top of the hill.  It was tough starting again and making a home and living in such a remote part of the Highlands was no joke.  That said however life does often present you with an upside.  It was because I lived in that little cottage that I got to see the Northern Lights!

I’m studying now, but a couple of years ago I started and gave up because life was just too tough and I was coping with ill health. I’m back to it now and then some.  I’m on course for my BA/BSc Honours degree – just you watch me!

I always wanted to have loads of kids, but alas there is only Spencer.  Not quite. Our house is frequently full of kids, friends of his who arrive with their instruments and enormous appetites. It’s seldom quiet or dull. Life does have a way of providing – just not always in the way you expect.

I like to think of myself as older and wiser but this year, having ridden one with my son, I discovered that I am officially too scared old to ride upside down roller coasters!

Me and Spence - the AFTER photograph (and yes he was holding me up!)

Life and study certainly teaches you lessons along the way.  I’ve learnt that we don’t always see things the same way.  Study has also given me the confidence to acknowledge that neither would we want to.

Likewise we may all have our opinions and beliefs but it does no harm to spend a moment looking at things from another angle.

I spend oodles of time immersed in research, but sometimes there are things you accept as evidence because all the signs are there…..

And sometimes no matter what you’ve learned, what you’re dealing with or where you’re going – a gal has to just hold onto the dream that what she really wants to have hair like this!

So as we edge towards the end of 2011 here’s to life and it’s surprises.  To the things that life presents us with that we didn’t expect, to the things we learn from them and to the wee gems that fall into our life along the way.

Sure there’s the old, ‘you’ve got to paddle your own canoe’, ‘life is what you make it’ stuff.  For me though, this year the old adage that you’ve got to do it your way – whatever that is, has been the strongest.  I’ve really tried to follow my own path, find my groove and walk my path my own way – and aside from a few wobbles I’ve pretty much managed it.

So these are just some of my wee gems – what are yours?

Dear Santa, can you hear me?

I hope it’s not too late to be writing to you.

I know that you have a pretty tough gig.  I mean OK you have a whole year to get ready to do your thing but sometimes, if you’re at all like me that is, it doesn’t matter how much planning time you have there is always that last minute dash to the finish line.  OK I know you have elves to help but managing a work team, even if they are elves, can’t be easy.

I thought I would give you a break this year.  It’s been a tough year for all of us and I guess it probably isn’t any different for you.  So, I’ve decided not to ask you for world peace again this year.  I’ve just checked out the BBC News website and, well quite frankly, it’s not looking likely is it.

Instead this year I thought I would make my list a bit more achievable.  If you could see your way clear to getting to some of this I will of course be very grateful. However I should add that I’m a pretty amenable gal, so if it doesn’t work out I won’t hold it against you much.

Oh I should also add I’ve been pretty good this year and, well those times when I haven’t well I really can explain.  So here’s my list….

Health – I’m in pretty good shape all considered, but if you could keep me just ticking along that would be fab.

Study – OK this has been up and down, granted more ups than downs, but if you could help me kick my tendency to procrastinate into touch this area of my life would be a hellava lot more manageable.

Love – I’m pretty loved up so again if you could just add a sprinkle of magic to keep things topped up that would be grand.  Oh I should say that my man and I have moved bedrooms – we’re now next door to my son’s bedroom so please don’t sprinkle the magic outside his door by mistake.  I don’t think I’m ready to cope with a loved up 16 year old just yet.

Joy – I think it would be true to say that we all need joy in our life.  If you could see your way clear to reminding me that it’s my job to continue to cherish life in your funky Santa like way I promise to try to keep it going all year.  Hell I’ll even make it my job to pass it on whenever I can – deal?

Blogging – Now I know that you actually read my blog, and I’m very grateful for that.  Like most new bloggers my stats could do with a boost.  Maybe you could tell your elves to subscribe and read when they’re not doing the toy making thing.

Christmas – Now you know how much I love Christmas and how excited I get.  My husband, I know, loves it too he just kind of doesn’t enthuse about it in quite the way I do.  You know what I mean – on Christmas morning he takes a while to get into it instead of ripping open his presents in the wild frenzy I usually adopt.  This year can you make him really, really excited.  I know that he would love it and it would tickle the hell out of the rest of us.

Peace – as I said I’m not going to ask for world peace but maybe you could manage peace in our house.  You know the kind of thing.  Christmas day with a happy family, sharing chocolates and smiling at each other.  We’re a pretty happy bunch really but with a teenager and a 94 year old in the house we’ve got a pretty wide spectrum to manage. Even if you could work your magic and co-ordinate our Christmas viewing so that we all get to watch what we want to watch, no temper tantrums etc that would be great.  Oh and if you could see to it that I’m in the winning team for the Christmas quiz then that would be just fabulous, as I’m sure you know this would be a first for me.

Glad Tidings – Now you know you’ve let me down a couple of times in the past but I’m willing to forgive and forget if you can deliver some glad tidings.  There’s a group of gals, The Military Wives Choir, who have a wonderful song in the charts.  I sing it most mornings as I’m walking to work, hell I’m even getting quite good at the solo bit! Can you please help it along to No. 1 – it’s for a really good cause.

So Santa I hope you can see your way clear to some of this.  I promise I will leave you something nice under the Christmas tree and I’ll put the heating on boost for you because it’s bloody freezing here.  Oh and  you know that we don’t have a chimney so you’ll have to use the front door, well please be careful because the outside light is playing up and the builders have had a few glitches so there is still some scaffolding up, so be careful now.

Oh and Merry Christmas 👍

Love Jacqueline x

So what’s on your Christmas list folks?

Heavens, what an unusual start to my weekend!

Friday was hectic. I was out and about trying to squeeze as many clients into my day and needed to touch base with the office before close of business. My heart sank when I got to the multi-storey car park. There was a queue of Christmas shoppers waiting to park. Did they not realise that some folk REALLY didn’t have time to wait in this queue.

Eventually making it into the car park I knew that if I wanted to find a space I would need to head right for the top. This is a bit of a bummer in this weather as the top floor is exposed, so the likelihood was that despite scraping my car of ice already that day – after my time in the office I would be heading back to freezing car again.

Leaving the office later with too many bags of files and my laptop slung across my shoulder I almost ended up a a casualty on the frozen pavements. Getting to the car park I had well and truly had enough. Standing at the elevator I pushed the button – there was no way on earth I was going to attempt to climb the stairs to the 9th floor. As I waited I noticed a little cloud (yes, that’s what I said, a furry white cloud) on the ceiling beside the elevator door. Suddenly I heard the most calming voice coming from the cloud assuring me that my journey to Utopia would be calm and soothing. I was instructed to breath in and out slowly and to feel the cares of the day wash away with every breath. The elevator arrived, the doors opened and this is what I saw……

My lift to Heaven

I stepped in and the ethereal voice continued to calm me on my journey to heaven, assuring me that all was well and I would arrive in heaven feeling calm and at peace with the world.

Arriving at the 9th floor sure enough there was a sign…..

So yes, a very strange and pleasing end to my working week. I got such a kick out of it I got back in the elevator and took the ride again.  I wasn’t just in elevator 1 I was on cloud 9!

Hurray for local art projects that lift your day. I hope they keep it up all year.

Lets hear it for the kids – ALL of them

OK if you read my blogs you’ll know that I’m a carer.  For me it’s not a tough deal, stressful at times, but infinitely doable.

Today though I want to take my hat off to one lady in my life, another student.  She buddied me though my last Open University module, shared notes and insights with me along the way. She was brave enough to be honest about how difficult it can be to juggle work, family and caring but did it in a way that made me laugh and wonder at how she got through her day AND passed her assignments.  She shares her experiences as a carer by passing on her successes and solutions to problems that other carers can benefit from.  She has a wicked sense of humour and compassion to match.

She posted this on her Facebook today and I thought I would share it.

Kids with special needs aren’t weird or odd. They only want what everyone wants…to be accepted . Can I make a request? Is anyone willing to post this. This is an honour of all children that God made in a unique way. Let’s see who has a strong heart ♥ ♥

So here’s to all the carers out there, Merry Christmas to you.

As for the kids – ALL OF THEM -may the season bring you all you deserve, and then some!

Feed me NOW!

I wouldn’t say I’d had a bad day, but for some reason my juggling is a bit dodgy today . My husband is in London so I’m Carer Numero Uno, which is fine, I can do that. I am also chief confidante to my teenage son, in charge of the housework, cooking, making sure the doors are locked, heating is working, dishwasher filled/emptied and somewhere in there trying to get on top of finding the Christmas card list and squeeze a bit of time into working on my next essay.

Arriving home tonight I knew I had to get right on with things – cups of tea made, listening to the breakdown of of the school day, discussion about school dance and what to wear were handled as I rummaged about in the fridge trying to fling together something palatable for dinner.

My mother-in-law Sylvia and my son Spencer fit right into my routine and although things move along somewhat frantically (due to the fact that I also had to deal with some phone calls) we’re generally right on schedule. There are however two members of our household who are just not ‘getting’ the program. That would be our two cats…..

"Grumpy Tam"

AND

"Airy Fairy Bella"

Granted they are somewhat hacked off that it’s me they have to deal with. My husband is much more, how can I put it, responsive to their demands needs. Me on the other hand will explain to them, as I whizz about the kitchen like a crazy person, that I just need to do a couple of things first before I get to emptying their revolting smelling  nourishing cat food into their bowls.  For some reason my rational tone does nothing to  appease the situation, which by this stage has escalated to them rounding on me like a pack of crazed hungry animals.  Gone are the cute gazes and the affectionate purring.  They mean business.

Airy Fairy Bella has by this stage jumped up and is sitting beside the sink – the intention is that she has me in her line of vision and can do that crazy cat stare into my eyes.  As I get on with the cooking I can feel her eyes burning into my back.  It’s about this time that we move up to another zone.  They start with the noise.  You know that cat noise that says loud and clear, “IF YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING TO IGNORE ME YOU’VE GOT ANOTHER THINK COMING – FEED ME!!!!!”

Of course at this point any sane person would just give in and feed them.  By this stage of course I am not sane.  I’ve got a husband due home tonight, a zillion things to do and a son to get to his piano lesson.  I explain this to my two furry stalkers to no avail.

If you're not going to co-operate we're just going to have to take this into our own hands

Realising how ridiculous this all is I of course give in to the torture and feed them.  In an instant the food is finished and they wander off to their respective beds, either to get away from the crazy person in the kitchen or because their antics have zapped all their energy.

Left alone in the kitchen I wonder whether this owner/cat relationship is really equal.  For a while there I even thought I was in charge.

Step away from the quilted toilet paper…..!!!

I’ve noticed reading some of the blogs I follow recently that lots of folk find it a challenge to cope with the blues.  I think this time of year, despite being filled with happy songs, decorations and children is quite a difficult time to raise your game.  Maybe it’s the dark days, lack of light and cold weather, I don’t know.  I do know that at this time of year I always feel that people are happier and coping better than I am pretending to be.  Or are they just pretending too?

What I have noticed is a bit of a change this year, a shift if you like. OK we are coping with the precarious financial situation in the UK but I think what I’m picking up is a bit of a positive spin off.  Most of the parents I’ve spoken to are going back to basics a bit with Christmas this year.  Old boardgames are being discovered and people are cutting back on the over the top festive fayre – it’s got a kind of back to basics feel to it. I also know that lots of folk, instead of asking for a gift, are opting for charity options this year, or even doing something for a charity.

For some years now in our family we have done a Christmas draw where all the adults names go into a hat and the name you pick out is the person you buy a gift for.  This may sound a bit stingy but we all benefit from this.  For one you don’t spend days trawling the shops buying things that are more than likely to be returned and secondly financially it’s a real lightener at this time of year, so it’s a real winner for us all.  I know it’s not for everyone but it works for us.

I also think the recession has made people revisit Christmas traditions.  In our house, when I was a little girl my mum always bought new nightdresses for my sister and I to wear on Christmas Eve.  Yeah you know the ones made from that awful nylon material that would spark if you moved about in a dark room.  Oh yep, I remember it well.  The drill on Christmas Eve was bath, new nightdress on and then she would tell us to go and sit in front of the (open) fire to dry our hair!  As a parent myself of course, and in light of health and safety and the likes, how my sis and I managed to be here today I do not know!

Anyhow, as is usually the way I carried this tradition into my own parenthood (minus forcing my child to sit dangerously in front of the fire) dutifully buying my son new PJ’s for Christmas Eve.  Of course the other tradition I have (and I confess I know not where this comes from) is that I always buy quilted toilet roll for the Christmas holidays! I know that no explanation is required – I think it just sort of stems from having a bit of luxury at Christmas. In my defence I didn’t really think it through in any great depth.

Anyhow, I digress.  Oh yes, what I was going to say is that I’ve decided that these two traditions are effectively falling by the wayside this year.  For one my teenage son no longer wears the PJ’s I buy him and, if I’m honest, nobody will really miss the quilted toilet roll.  So having freed up a bit of cash and having been influenced by one of the other traditions that seem to be returning to Christmas this year I went of in search of something charitable I could do with the PJ and toilet roll cash. So here’s what I’ve narrowed the choices down to and I’ll share them as My 7 Days of charity Christmas Stuff.  They’re all just a little bit different and they all benefit folk right here in the UK.  Here’s what I found……

On the 1st day of Christmas

A session at an after school club - for UK’s latchkey children. 
 
 
 
 
 
 

On the 2nd day of Christmas

Warm Blankets for Chillie Grannies  - keep a granny cosy this winter 
 
 
 

On the 3rd day of Christmas

Granny’s Hairdo - do you know how little it costs to boost the esteem of an elderly lady? Well, an excursion to the hairdressers for shampoo, cut and set, or a perm, sets you back £25. And it all makes her feel like a million dollars. 
 
 
 
 

On the 4th day of Christmas

A Cat for Comfort - lots of elderly and housebound people love to keep pets for comfort and companionship. Trouble is the cost may make  ownership too dear.  This gift helps out with food and vets bills giving endless hours of comfort. 
 
 
 

On the 5th day of Christmas

Fresh Roots for Homeless People - Stump up for wellies, tools and seeds so that residents in UK hostels for the homeless can grow their own fruit and veg. 
 
 
 
 
 

On the 6th day of Christmas

Nice New Pyjamas and a Teddy - for a children in a women’s refuge, who had to leave it all behind. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
And finally…. being a student this one appealed to me…

On the 7th day of Christmas

Buy a Brain Cell - helps towards the development of treatments for diseases like Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s.
 
 
 

So in the spirit of getting back to basics and thinking about chasing the blues away and reminding me of the simple but really important stuff of life I’m passing on this wee video shared by another OU student in her blog My Open Adventure.  Enjoy

So if you’re trying to simplify things this year what’s your plan?

When the blues get a hold, what do you do to pick yourself up?

Study is good for you, but some of the thinking is tough…

For those of you expecting a cheery post today I’m sorry to say I can’t oblige but I do ask you to stick with me.  Sometimes I feel like a bit of a sponge.  Returning to study has opened my mind to so many things. In my work I find myself dealing with many of the difficult and often tragic issues that challenge many in our communities. I’m always a fairly upbeat and happy chappy in that dealing with difficult situations doesn’t so much get me down as get me mad.  It fires me up and makes me want to shout so loud that the policy makers can’t ignore little old me.

Today my mind is taken into an uncomfortable area. Not only have I had cause to deal with clients threatened by homelessness at this time of year but as part of my research I’ve also been doing a fair bit of reading around homelessness and mental health. I am, as they say, surrounded by homelessness. I have found this both challenging to read and to reflect on. This stuck with me today and so, as with most things that come to the fore of my head and my heart – they end up here in my blog.

My husband called me from London this morning to say that it was a beautiful day, but bitterly cold. Spookily he called just after I’d read that half of the rough sleepers in the UK are in London.

Through my work I know that we don’t have a huge number of rough sleepers in Inverness. I do however know that regardless of the numbers the death rate of rough sleepers is 25 times that of the rest of the population. Sure there are emergency hostels organised by amazing charities but through my research I’ve discovered that for some homeless people these hostels just ain’t an option – why?  Well because they have pets. Recent research figures indicate that 86% are turned away from shelters.

For many homeless people a pet is their only companion and asking them to give up their pet must be like asking them to abandon a best friend. From my own reading I can only conclude that there is no doubt that being homeless must bring most people to the depths of despair. Having a pet is known to alleviate that desperation. Statistics show that pet owners on the streets are significantly less likely to suffer from depression and be drug users than homeless people without pets.

This issue was recently highlighted in the media and a campaign has been launched by animal welfare, housing and homelessness charities to encourage housing providers across Britain to review their policies. Put quite simply unless things change there is little hope of breaking the vicious circle that pet owning homeless people find themselves in.

Things do need to change. If you’re reading this and have a dog or a cat just reflect for a moment on how hard it would be if you had to make the tough choice to give up your pet. It would be terrible, wouldn’t it.  Importantly these companions don’t just deliver love and affection to their homeless owners, homeless charities advocate that the stability, love and responsibility of looking after a pet plays an key part in resettlement and a life of independence.

I’ll be honest, I’ve never really given this aspect of homelessness any thought.  Sure I’ve bought the Big Issue and given the dog a clap, had a chat and moved on into my day. I had no idea that the person selling me the big issue might be deprived of shelter that night because they have a dog.

This is a time of year for reflecting and I guess being thankful. It’s also a time of year when our mind naturally turns to charity. There are lots of charities out there working with homeless people.  Many will tell you that the recession and spending cuts have already caused a spike in youth homelessness. They also warn us that future welfare reforms are likely to add to this.

Image from Homelessness Charity Website

So yes today I’ve had a bit of a rant and I accept that there is little I can do on my own to influence any of this.  Or can I?  Well I’ve decided I’m going to use some of the fire in my belly that this research has generated and find out what the position is for homeless people with pets in my area.  I think I can feel a letter to our MSP coming on….

So what are the things that get you fired up and what do you do about it?

Me with the skunk stripe…

Katrina, who recently stopped by my blog and commented on My Grey Period described me to a ‘T’ – I am officially in the skunk stripe period of Project Hair.  All a bit depressing really.  Without a doubt the grey is making not just an appearance but a statement!

There's going to come a time when it's going to take more than a hat to hide this!

All does not bode well for this festive time when everyone else seems to be shiny and glittery.  So what to do?

Well as I’m sworn off the hair dye I am going for the old distraction technique.  Out with the old boring black beret and in with the brightly coloured hats and scarves.  I figured if I can distract the eye from my skunk like appearance then I’m on to a winner.

Today's ensemble!

However that is all fine and well when I’m outside but inside the skunk like person reigns. I have however come up with a cunning plan…..coloured hair extensions.

Now what colour to go for?

A skunk like Christmas is not for this gal, so I’ll be weaving a few coloured magical strands through the grey and I will go to the ball.

So yes I may be in my skunk like phase of Project Hair but the real me is still shining through despite the grey.  So for the big finale today it’s got to be the Leftover Cuties singing ‘All of Me’ for my husband who is putting up with All of Me – even the Skunk Me

Maybe there isn’t more to life than jumping in puddles…

In an attempt to keep the winter blues at bay – yeah I kinda succumb to them sometimes – I threw myself into making some Christmas decorations this weekend.  There’s quite a lot to be said for getting crafty.  I decided to go at it with Fimo and make some gift tags to hang on presents.

Fimo is a bit like plasticine.  When you’ve made your whatever you bake it in the oven for 30 mins and like magic it hardens.  Standing in the kitchen playing with all these nice colours, rolling them up, squidging them into shapes I realised that it’s actually quite nice just to play.  For about 30 mins there I wasn’t even a grown up, and do you know what, it felt pretty good.

How often as adults do we actually have that carefree abandon that kids have when they play?  Ever wondered why kids go splashing through puddles?  With my wellies on this week I did just that and it felt great.

If only I had my wellies on I'd be right in that puddle.

Now before you think I’m going to be stopping off at the swing park on the way to work…… actually that’s maybe not a bad idea.  When was the last time you were on a swing?

No maybe not. Actually as grown ups I think we are encouraged not to delve into childlike behaviour. It’s kind of frowned upon. I suppose you can sort of understand it, but looking at the two ladies in the picture above – tell me honestly, if you walked past the park and saw them up to their shenanigans would they not make you smile? Well there you are then.

OK so you might have to tag along with your kids or your grandkids if you want a go on the swings, but if you’re not up for that then for even just 15 mins do something that makes you forget you’re an adult. Sing, dance, whatever it takes – because, do you know what these little people have got this happiness thing figured out big time.

It doesn’t have to be like this….

Today my organisation are going out for our Christmas lunch.  Now I’ll be honest I did hesitate as to whether or not I was going to go to this or not.  I’m not a fan of big gatherings however I also acknowledge that it’s also important to get together with colleagues, especially as it’s been a tough year for our organisation, having lost funding and of course colleagues as a result of this.  They are all coming back to join us for Christmas Lunch and this changes the way I feel about it so here I sit in my finery ready to head out to meet everyone at 2pm.

Well, I say finery, I don’t really do finery however I’ve taken off the obligatory wellies, pushed the boat out and put on some heels (which I don’t do due to arthritis) but the lovely gel cushion insoles promise to see me through the day.

Get your wellies off girl, it's party time!

The talk in the office today is ‘are you ready for Christmas?’, ‘Ive still to do this’, ‘I’ve still to do that’.  It made me realise that I haven’t really done anything about planning for Christmas and, in all fairness, I’m not feeling any stress in this.

If I’m honest I think Christmas can be a crazy time, made worse by pressure to provide or produce the perfect occasion.  We are having a small family Christmas and so I have full confidence that I can turn out some decent fayre and that we can all enjoy the day with no pressure.

I love the excitement of Christmas.  Gazing into a Christmas sky I still get that little magical feeling that Santa will soon by flying through the clouds dropping gifts off in houses.  Silly I know, but despite being an adult I think the magic of Christmas has remained with me.

As I walked through town this morning shop windows are adorned with messages that gifts are about joy and love and yes they are.  However the cynic in me also sees the collection of shops as cathedrals of consumerism.  I think there is something to be said for seeing things differently and doing things differently  - even at Christmas time.

Just because you've always done things a certain way doesn't mean it wouldn't be fun to try something different

This year I’m not going overboard on the present buying, instead I’m going to make a few gifts.  Out with coffee with my husband this week I mentioned that I really don’t want anything for Christmas.  I’m not being all bah humbug, but in all honesty, now that I have my lovely bedroom there is really nothing I want.

When I say making things I’m not going to lock myself away in a room with oodles of craft stuff producing hand made crazy presents for people.  Having kept my eyes open I’ve spotted a few clever ideas that make something quite small seem special.  Here’s a few I picked up that look very do-able.

Lets face it, if you found this on your doorstep wouldn't you smile?

 

If you're missing a shirt husband don't look at me...

So any tips out there Blogland, cleaver little things that might bring a smile at Christmas?

 

A dash of social policy, mince pies and Christmas spirit.

Well the gales are howling around me and I’ve spent the morning with a group of enthusiastic young people looking at social policy issues.  The students work as advisers with our Youth CAB project and are fired up about about the proposed Welfare Reform due to come into effect in 2013.

The reforms proposed aim to save £7bn however the student concerns, quite rightly, are that the proposed changes are likely to impact negatively on vulnerable and disabled clients – just like the one’s they see when working as advisers.  As one student commented, ‘this is going to make us really busy’.

In their project blog today they flagged up the fact that many children’s groups are concerned that the bill could plunge between 50,000 and 100,000 young people into poverty.  They know full well that this is going to mean people in their own community. Yet despite the howling winds, rain and proposed benefit reform I feel warmed today by their enthusiasm and their very real concerns about what the future holds for many vulnerable people.  It’s incredibly humbling and I take my hat off to them in their attempts to raise awareness and voice their concerns.

As we speak the community complex where I work is buzzing with Christmas and there are more than enough free mince pies to go around.  It’s only nature therefore  that thoughts to turn to the spirit of Christmas – so I thought I might just share a wee Christmas Winter Warmer with you.

In our house we’re a big fan of our slow cooker. Anyone who is busy will know the joy a slow cooker brings into your life. There is nothing nicer that getting home knowing that dinner has slowly been bubbling away all day and there is nothing for you to do than simply dish it up and enjoy.

Having time to be around the house at Christmas means that I can indulge in my passion for cooking and so the slow cooker used to be shelved, sitting lonely into the new year when the return to work madness begins once again. No more though. Our slow cooker has a special job this Christmas.  Did you know that your slow cooker is a fantastic way to make mulled wine!

For those of you that haven’t tried it I would urge you to give it a go. Sure you can make mulled wine in a pot, but the beauty of using the slow cooker is this….. it keeps the mulled wine at just the right temperature for ages (without you having to stand over it) AND it fills the house with the most wonderful smell.

I’m sure you have your own recipe for mulled wine, but here’s two for you anyway….one with alcohol (hic!) and one without.

So, whether you are planning to have chestnuts roasting on an open fire or a box of chocolates on your knee, kick back, enjoy your mulled wine of choice and listen to this……

Be warned though, enthused by our young advisers , I will return in the New Year with a rant about the Welfare Reforms!

A strange day of memories

They say you should write about what you know. Over the months, throughout the process of writing my wee blog each day, I’ve come to appreciate both how important and how difficult it is to write from your inner core.  That’s where my stories are you see and that is where ‘Departures’ came from – quite an innocent little story really.  However, when I first posted it I will confess I wasn’t brave enough to say what it was about (although I did go back and add a little note one day).  It was about my Dad.

Today is my Dad’s 70th birthday.  I have no idea where he is, if he is well, or even if he is still alive.  He’s my missing person.  Although there is great sadness in this I’m not entirely unhappy that his chaoticness (the red line under the word tells me it’s not a real word, but hell it fits to me)  is not part of my life. I guess it’s natural to sometimes to wonder though.

I’ve always thought it is such a waste when families become disjointed and people drift out of lives.  Surely there must be a way; to try harder, to find the fix?  Of course I realise this is a simplistic view on what can be complex and challenging issues.

So come full circle and I understand that sometimes there is nothing you can do to change it.  I also accept that sometimes people just drift away.

Music can often evoke powerful memories.  I used to find this piece hard to listen to.  I remember dad playing it when I was younger and in later years it made me feel mighty pissed of whenever I heard it.  Not now though. My son recently discovered Simon and Garfunkel and plays it all the time.

I can listen to it now and sing along – progress is a wonderful thing, time is a great healer and reality is a wonderful leveller.  So wherever you are, this is for you.

A winter wonderland and our Christmas dilemma….

Peaking out the window this morning I wasn’t surprised or disappointed to see that, not only was the snow still with us, but there was even MORE of it.  A great big dollop had been delivered through the night.

Deciding to leave the car at home I figured the walk to work would be stress free and I could enjoy the snow – it is so beautiful here today because not only do we have lots of the white powdery stuff, but the sun is shining, making my wee Scottish world look quite magical.

Dawning my lovely fake fur coat (a recent lovely purchase from the charity shop) my warm wooly hat that comes right down over my lugs and my trusty hiking boots  I headed off.

Me in my trusty hiking boots

Now there is something about walking in the snow that makes people chat. Adverse weather seems to break down all sorts of barriers and perhaps giving people a common goal – to make it to their destination.

It wasn’t long before I was joined on my trek by an elderly stranger called Emma, a semi retired lady going in my direction (for a while at least). Only a few paces in and Emma had filled me in on how she fills her days of retirement and also how she copes with memory loss. We had a lovely, if rather disjointed conversation, peppered with Emma saying, ‘what was I saying?’. Emma may have been struggling to keep up with the conversation but I was struggling to keep up with Emma, who demands a surprising staggering walking pace from anyone that cares to join her. Our walk together ended at the park with Emma headed off down one lane, while I took the other.  Shouting goodbyes she happily trekked off into the beautiful wilderness.

The beautiful Bellfield Park this morning

Trudging along my mind turned to Christmas and in particular the debate in our house about this year’s Christmas tree. Having always been a ‘real tree’ house we are considering an artificial tree this year. Now before any of you traditionalist start shouting at your computer screens hear me out. In all honesty I’m with you, I love a real tree and the hassle that go with it doesn’t register in my life. I love the smell, the chaos of putting it up (and getting it out of the house after the festivities without depositing ALL of the needles throughout the house – which interesting never happens).

My husband Peter is usually charged with getting the tree.  Each year, despite discussions about what size of tree we are going with, he faithfully returns with the BIGGEST tree he can find. Last year he achieved a personal best – it must have been an eight or nine footer at least.

Spencer and I trying desperately to get the tree into the kitchen

Real trees are getting more and more expensive and we could buy a pretty good artificial tree that would last years – rather than shelling out every year for a real one. Ok, I know, there is also the environmental debate. From what I’ve read natural tree growers argue that artificial trees are more environmentally harmful than real trees (well they would, wouldn’t they). On the other side of the argument allegedly artificial trees have excellent recyclable properties. However I think I’m with the researcher from Kansas State University who called the idea that artificial trees are eco-friendly as an ‘urban myth’.

So what to do, buy an artificial tree and use it FOREVER MORE, never to dispose of it in landfill and benefit from the financial saving each year, or go for a real life traditional Christmas tree?

I will happily sit on the fence on this one. I’ll just be delighted to have ‘A’  tree and get this Christmas thing going in our house. So husband ‘Buyer of the Tree’ I’ll leave it with you – but if you go down the route of a real tree how about this one – it tops your record last year, and then some!

So guys what do you think – real or artificial?

Let it snow…..

I notice that WordPress have added a nifty little thing that makes snow fall on your screen. I’ve decided to turn mine off as this is what I awoke to this morning…

It is already pretty bad out there and it seems that we are well and truly in for it. So back to scraping the car and crawling to work on completely white roads.

Last year it was so bad that my wee car didn’t move for a month, but I dug her out this morning and off we trundled. Thank goodness the holidays are coming….:wink:

Now where are my thermal knickers!

Catastrophe

For those of you with a cat in your life….. this explains a lot!

For those of you without a cat, watch anyway and be thankful you don’t have a cat

Your eyes must not determine what you see…..

This is how my husband found me this morning….

The Grumpy Elf

I ignored his remark that “it’s the most understated I’ve looked in ages’.

With bells on my shoes and a song in my heart I was alas a Grumpy Elf. Why?  Well if you’re sitting comfortably then I’ll begin.

A big part of the work I do is to challenge inequality in society.  As an adviser I work with some of the most disadvantaged members of our Highland communities.  Today our project had a stall at a Christmas Bazaar held in one of the community centres.  I was there to promote our advice service and particularly to raise awareness about fuel poverty.  - a sad reality.  I meet people every day who live on benefits or who are elderly or have a disability – sometimes all three – who have to make the tough choice whether to eat or to heat their home.

So, as I hauled myself out of bed this morning I fumbled for my slippers and pulled on my dressing gown.  Our home was warm and I could have a hot shower whenever I wanted. There was food in the fridge for breakfast.  Outwardly I was warm and happy, but inside I was grumpy and annoyed that so many others are wakening to very different situations in homes across Scotland.

So today I was dressed as a funny elf, but, as the title of this post suggests, ‘your eyes must not determine what you see’ because inside I was a grumpy elf – determined to raise awareness that there are things that can be done, even on a small level. By popping in to our project, we can check the people are receiving the right level of benefit and liaise with fuel providers to ensure they are getting the discount – social tariff – they are entitled to. OK it’s not going to change the world but it will impact on the level of fuel poverty experienced by many.

I had a fantastic day, hell we all need a bit of changing the world – even in a small way.  So having returned I sit here with a cup of coffee and a full appointment book for next week.

So I’ve chatted with so many people this morning I now have virtually no voice left.  I’ve danced with the Brownies, I’ve judged competitions and I’ve eaten far too many free mince pies.  I’ve also chatted with some of the local councillors about why I’m so grumpy Of course there have got to be some perks for grumpy elves and this one was no exception……..I got to sit on Santa’s knee!

The book sitting beside my computer as I write this is Mary Anne Radmacher’s Lean into Your Life. The cover says’ “start each day as if it were on purpose’ – so I did – a Grumpy Elf with a purpose. I might not have changed the world, but hell do I feel good this afternoon.

Off now to fight with the staff at the local Vodaphone shop about the upgrade of my phone. Might just keep the costume on for that

 

A very worthy addition to the Mum’s Manual

I’ve often talked about wishing I had a manual to help me as a mum.  I heard a lovely story today that made me wonder whether us mums actually need a manual.

A colleague at work has a three-year old daughter.  The other morning said colleague was in the bathroom brushing her teeth when she heard a gasp of excitement coming from her 3-year-old daughter.  Her heart sank as her gut feeling told her that her little daughter had found the christmas presents she had hidden in a storage chest (you know the one that said daughter never goes into).

Thinking quickly she called on her daughter to come and brush her teeth.  With her toothbrush in her mouth she was trying desperately to tell her mum about the presents.  My friend listened to her daughters excited revelations but didn’t say a word.

Leaving her daughter for a minute to finish brushing her teeth, once out of sight of the wee one she flew into the bedroom and quickly flung all of the presents in the wardrobe.  Returning to the bathroom she said to her daughter, “So where are all these presents then?”  Her daughter dutifully took her mum to the chest, opened it up and without looking said Tarrrraaaaah!!!

The look on the wee one’s face when there was nothing there must have been priceless.  My friend looked at her daughter and said, “Oh I know what’s happened, it must be the Christmas Elf, showing you what you might get for Christmas if you’re a good girl”.

Lots of questions then followed but the wee one bought the explanation hook, line and sinker, even to the extent of interrupting a telephone conversation my friend was having with her husband a couple of hours later to proclaim, “Dad WE’VE got an Elf!”

So I know one little girl who WILL be surprised on Christmas morning with lots of presents because she is now on her best behaviour – just in case the elf is watching.

Of course some may think that my friends’ way of dealing with this could terrorise the child into terrible nightmares and fears about going to bed at night while there’s an Elf kicking about.  Not just any old Elf either, it’s THE Elf that will ultimately decide if she’s been good enough to get those Christmas presents it’s given her a sneaky peak of.  Well I don’t think it’s any more scary than knowing that on Christmas Eve there’s going to be a great big man with a beard and a red suit coming down your chimney and eating your food.  Ok granted the Elf hanging around is probably adding extra stress, but come on, was this a good recovery or what!

So it seems that us mums, if put on the spot, can always pull the rabbit out of the bag.  Or in this case fling the presents in the wardrobe.

Good things happen when good things happen

It’s true, positive thing blossom out of good times.  It’s kind of like a domino effect it starts small and then grows and grows.

My New Year’s resolution this year was to smile more.  That might sound like a bit of a cop out when most people were pledging to go to the gym more and get fit, lose weight etc. Not so.  Smiling was something I realised I’d kinda sort stopped doing – not because life was bad, but just because I always seemed to be too busy and my ‘to do’ list never seemed to get any smaller. I have learned that when I’m stressed I have a habit of sighing more than I smile.  So taking this in hand I decided to change it.

OK so you can’t just make yourself smile – can you? Well no, but you can be more alert to opportunities to smile that would normally pass you by.  So thats what I did and so the domino effect began.

I discovered that when I smiled, be it in the office, at home or just a smile at someone passing me in the street, people smiled back.  Do you know what – it was a nice feeling.  And so it has been this year – my year of smiling.

Come on smile - I know you want to....

It won’t be my New Year’s resolution for 2012 (don’t know what that will be but I’ll keep you posted) but it is something I’m going to strive to continue.

So it’s true, good things happen when good things happen.  Today, sitting in my little Santa’s Grotto office surrounded by all the glitter and tinsel I don’t feel the negative impact of the dark day outside.

Living in Scotland the mornings are dark and I return home in the dark.  It’s hard sometimes not to be impacted by the lack of light.  I’ve decided though that this lack of light in my day doesn’t have to mean lack of light in my life.  So I’m off to find someone to smile at.

Care to join me?  Great – meantime here’s something my sister in law sent me.  Hope it gets you started with the smiling lark……… enjoy.

And the results are in…..

Despite all the procrastination, crying, beating myself up that I was a terrible student being challenged to get my first assignment for my module in I’m pleased to say I discovered that I achieved a very acceptable pass.

But hey this post isn’t about me!  This is about the passing on of  The Jennifer Avventura Reader Appreciation Award.

I’ve followed the rules on this earlier however due to a mega crazy day at work I wasn’t able to deal with the most important part;  the nominations.  So without further ado here are the six blogs I’ve selected to pass on this lovely sunflower award on to…..

Back on My Own - A smart lady whose blog will get you laughing, thinking, wondering… and the rest.

I’ve Survived! and I’m Ready to “Fly”!! – A ‘Sensational Survivor’ this lady tells it like it is, and then some, threading her posts with dollops of humour and insights.

Cerridwen’s Cauldron - the best way to describe this blog is that this lady rocks – go check her out.

Joanna Dobson - a student and passionate reader and creative lady who eloquently shares in her writing the things that help her mind stay healthy.

Piglet in Portugal  - A semi-homourous account of everyday life and travel in Portugal which I recently stumble on – and I’m glad I did.

And my final nomination is a shameless plug – but hey, it’s my blog so I guess I’m allowed.  I work as a Specialist Adviser with the charity Citizens Advice Bureau (CAB) and co-ordinate a project – Charleston Youth CAB which is the first and only CAB staffed by young people in the UK.  They recently started their own blog aimed at providing information to young people moving on from school to university or employment.  These young people are amazing and surprise me each and every day.  My final nomination is therefore for the young people at the Charleston Youth CAB Project.

So congratulations folks.  Here’s ‘The Rules”

1. Award your top 6 bloggers who have commented the most.
2. Be thankful.
3. You cannot award someone who has already been awarded. And you cannot give the award back to me.
4. Don’t forget to tell the bloggers you’ve awarded.
5. If you don’t want to pass on this award, that’s okay too. Just admire it.
6. Link back to the person from which you received it.

Mission Accomplished

Happy nominating

Thank you, thank you, once again, I thank you!

Despite my slightly maudlin moment yesterday a day sitting in my Santa’s grotto office, although quite surreal, certainly lifted my spirits. I moved into the evening knowing that I could look forward to picking my husband up from the airport and all would return to normal at home. It seems though that the night was to get even better when I received a wee note on my blog from Lynda suggesting I visit pop over to her blog as there was something there for me. To my surprise she has nominated me for this…..

I was delighted to receive The Jennifer Avventura reader appreciation award from Lynda, particularly as her own posts are laugh out loud funny. It is quite a complement to know that this honest, funny lady has enjoyed my ramblings.  Thank you so much

So what are my duties on receiving this award?  Well I have to:-

1. Award your top 6 bloggers who have commented the most. (OK I can do that – will nip over and have a look at my stats).
2. Be thankful. (I certainly am!)
3. You cannot award someone who has already been awarded. And you cannot give the award back to me. (OK so that means I have to do a bit of research – so bear with me).
4. Don’t forget to tell the bloggers you’ve awarded. (Of course I will – who wouldn’t want to pass something on that might cheer fellow bloggers up?)
5. If you don’t want to pass on this award, that’s okay too. Just admire it. (Can I do both?)
6. Link back to the person from which you received it. (Pretty pleased with myself that I now have this link thingy nailed!)

And so The Reader Appreciation Award goes to….. Oh No!  Guys please don’t think I’m a drama queen who has been watching too many of these award shows that keep people guessing whilst waiting to see if the spotlight is going to fall on them.  I have a crazy day at work today and so can’t get to this until tonight.  So we’re going to have to cut to a commercial break but you’ll find out the results when I get back.

Watch this space

Project hair and all that jazz

Crazy busy this morning.  My husband is away so it’s just little old me to get things organised for the day at Duart Lodge. So the day started with numerous cups of un-touched tea, half eaten breakfast and a fight with the printer this morning to get my son’s English essay printed – all this before 7.30.

Things calmed down a bit after Spencer left for school and I stepped up to the mark and got on with my caring responsibilities.  Breakfast to be organised for my mother in law, medicine to be dispensed and lunch organised. Why is it when you drop toast it always lands marmalade side down?

Getting dress in the morning however is a doddle for me now. My new bedroom doesn’t have the sloping roof the study/bedroom has so at least I’m not in danger of knocking myself senseless as I try to make myself look presentable for the day. Hey I even managed a bit of make-up this morning.

In truth I’ve been making a bit more of an effort on the ‘making myself presentable for the day’ front. I figured that as I was seriously embarking on my grey period then at least if things drastically unravel I’ll have a bit of lippy on.

As I inspected my efforts I was pleased to note that I didn’t look half bad. Even with my grey hair starting to make an appearance it didn’t look too obvious as I stood in front of the bedroom mirror. Things changed however about half an hour later as I sat at the traffic lights though.

It seems that my nice soft bedroom lighting is hiding a multitude of sins – or at least a multitude of grey hair. As I glanced in the rear view mirror the sharp Scottish morning light did something magical to my hair – and not in a good way. There it was, no mistake, threatening evidence of what is ahead of me.

Now don’t get me wrong I don’t mind the grey, but this in-between bit might be tougher than I thought. What to do? Well I could give up and just by the hair dye. Then I thought about Caridwen, my hair buddy, growing her hair in post chemo.  I checked myself for lolling in such vanity, put on a CD and sang along to this…..

Needless to say after singing along and doing a bit of car dancing I felt 100 times better.

As I arrived at work it seemed that the Universe might have picked up on my maudlin mood.  My wee office in the Community Complex, due to be the site of numerous kids Christmas parties, has been magically transformed into Santa’s Grotto. So here I sit, looking like a happy grey elf, surrounded by tinsel and fake snow.

Thank you Universe – you cheered me up no end – let the fun commence

Let the fun commence.....

Calling all the dreamers

I don’t think of myself as a very brave or courageous person.  I’m not scaling great heights and, in the great scheme of things, the successes that are most important to me are the little ones.

Ok sometimes I do have days when I feel I’m battling on but usually I think I slide from one thing to the next.  However this isn’t done effortlessly and sometimes I am less than graceful.

I also think that it is easy to get bogged down with the practicalities of life.  OK I’ll re-phrase that…… sometimes it is easy for ME to get bogged down with the practicalities of life.  When this happens there is only one thing to do – get yourself into the company of dreamers.  You know who the dreamers are in your life, they’re the people who reignite your passion and make you see all those things that you think you can’t do in a completely different light.

Even dreamers can have tough times though. This weekend I received an email from one of the dreamers in my life. Reading it I realised that life is presenting her with some pretty unique challenges.  In my reply to her I sent her this quote….

My friend is a fellow carer but unlike me she doesn’t get to step out of that world each day and go to work.  Although I understand personally many of the challenges that carers face I can only empathise with the complexity of her caring role.  Ultimately for carers their challenges are infinitely unique to their situation.  That can sometimes make life lonely and hard.

Someone recently asked me how I managed to juggle study, work, family and caring and in all honesty I really don’t know the answer to that. Perhaps it is because I am fortunate to have dreamers like my friend in my life who dare me to dream and keep going.

So this this is for my pal Mrs Bim to keep her dreaming…..

Who are the dreamers in your life?

Smily Saturday

Husband is in Madrid, son is in the shower, mum in law having breakfast and reading the paper. Me I’m doing the housework while I sing along and dance to this. It doesn’t get any better than this….. enjoy

When you wish upon a star…

Well it might be freezing cold this morning and the sleet is battering down warning of the snow to come later today but I care not a jot.  Nothing can dampen my spirits today.  Why? Well because Christmas came early for this gal!

You may remember that when my husband asked what I wanted for Christmas I said I wanted a bedroom.  Our caring responsibilities meant rejigging our home and Peter and I have been sleeping in our rather cramped study and I desperately wanted a bedroom.  A little sanctuary just for us.

This is what I arrived home to yesterday…..

So despite the fact that the weather is pants today, my workload is chronic and my husband is setting off on a trip to Madrid leaving me in command at the front line that is our life. I care not a jot – because my wish came true.

Thank you husband

My mojo is officially back!

Have had a bit of a study epiphany moment.  Much welcome I might add.  My assignment is done, in and being graded as we speak. Whew!

Interestingly the process of writing this first assignment, for what is now my third module in my degree, has helped things fall into place.  Reflecting on this I considered why, when I was managing the reading and researching fine, was getting down to writing this assignment such a challenge for me?  What I realised is that for me (the student me) it is necessary not just to have the information in my head but to have some kind of structure to it.  I didn’t have that but that is what writing this assignment gave me  an order to manage what I was learning.

I will confess that much of what I’m learning isn’t really new to me.  Part of the reason I’m going for this degree is to validate what I’ve already done and know (yes I know I should have done it years ago).  That however is not to say that it is not a challenge, because as all students know, it’s not enough just to know the stuff, you have to be able to present it in such a way that others know that you know it – be it in an assignment, or in an exam.

So yes I’ve been floating about in a wilderness of information and it reminded me of ‘that feeling’ you get when you start something new, be it a new job, or embarking on being a mum, or learning how to knit or cook.  You know the feeling, your kind of floating along for a while and then one day you just realise that you are actually doing it with a level of competence.

I remember when my son was born, and like all new mums I was going through the motions trying to be a good mum.  Sure there were the sleepless nights, the days when I didn’t seem to be able to manage to get dressed in anything that resembled matching clothes whilst all the time the house always seemed to look like a bomb site.  Then one day standing at the cooker stirring a pan with my son balanced on my hip (while I sorted out the car insurance on the phone) I realised I wasn’t just learning to be a mum – I was a mum.  Hey I was even a multi-tasking mum!

And so it has been with my studies.  I fully expected to embark on this next module and just float into it.  That didn’t happen and if I’m honest it scared me a bit and I had to wait for that feeling to settle.  Then, finally, I got that feeling that I am actually doing it.

So, like me the multi-tasking mum, I am now back to being a multi-tasking student.  Oh you might see me standing at the cooker making pancakes but in my head I’m thinking about how hacked off I am that the consumerist/managerialist approach to involving service users in developing care services is often the preferred approach.  Why so when in reality the demographic approach, aligned with the social model of health, offers more potential in influencing positive direct change within the lives of individuals.  So while I’m mumbling about the importance of collective and individual action – even if I don’t figure it out I always have the bonus of some lovely pancakes to comfort me.

So I’m back to being a student who wants to change the world, or at least positively influence a care system that continues to struggle along.  I want to stop seeing headlines that tell me people are not only receiving sub-standard care in their homes but that even basic levels of dignity are not being afforded them.  I want to stop hearing sound bites where government ministers tell me (a carer – and often a struggling one at that) that services need to be streamlined to become more effective – knowing full well that this simply translates as ‘we’re going to cut the budgets’. I want, I want …….I could go on but you get my drift I’m sure.

So yes, I’ve got my study mojo back and I feel empowered to get through this module and aim for the best grade I can.  Reading other student blogs like PhD Pimpernel, Studying Parent and Old Girl at Uni to name but a few, have helped re-affirmed and re-ignited my passion for study (I know some folks from the OU site pop in to read my blog – you should check out these other student blogs).  I don’t just want to achieve my degree I want to take this thing as far as I can.  Whether I am able to do that or not I don’t know.  But I do know this – it’s going to be one hell of a journey.  This mature student is definitely hanging in there – and then some.

Groovy Baby........ you've got your mojo back!

Thanks for sticking with me.

Write little one, write like there’s no tomorrow……

I’ve confessed on here before that I’ve found it difficult to get back into study.  I’m fine with the reading and research – which I’m actually ahead of the game on, but writing my assignments is proving to be a real chore.  I used to feel that I could write the hell out of an academic essay but recently I don’t think I could write myself out of a paper bag.

Granted this has been made a bit more complicated as I’m sharing my home study space with my a 16-year-old teenager.  My son and I have different views on study time it seems. For him its ‘talk to mum about all the stuff that’s in my head time’ for me alas it has become about ‘dealing with the dramas in the life of a teenager’.  I’m the first to admit, that for me at least, it just ain’t working.

So a plan.  Well last night we re-jigged our study space and I attempted, sensitively, to set out some ground rules.  No chit-chat – instead said son and I will schedule in some time during the week to go out for coffee and a proper catch up.  He seemed pleased with that and quite frankly if it works I will be ecstatic.

Me and my study buddy

I’ve broken the back of my assignment – due in this week – and although I don’t quite feel that the fog has lifted at least I’ve found the fog lights and am forging ahead.

That guys is where you come in.  I’m going to step back from my blog until my assignment is finished.  Much as I love to write and to read all the interesting and quirky things everyone else writes alas my head is only full of my assignment at the moment.  So, if I’m going to get creative with anything at the moment this must be my priority. So hang in there with me will you?  I’m doing an Arnie ……. “I’ll be back….”

Quite a few of the other blogs I read are written by students, all at different stages of their learning.  I have picked up masses of tips and love the way they share their highs and lows (and solutions to turn said lows into highs). I guess having a break from my blog will give me the much-needed head space I need to hopefully turn this low into a high.

I’m also working hard to get ahead of the game as my husband is off travelling, taking photographs and having a necessary  well earned break from the craziness that is Duart Lodge.  I will be embarking on the adventure of being No.1 carer for his mum and also planning a weekend of catch up time with my son.  If all goes according to plan then I promise to return on Friday feeling elated that my essay is submitted and will have the head space to write a post to update you on my take on the craziness of life.

In the meantime feel free to check out some of the things you might have missed on my wee blog.  You will hopefully find my ‘tell it like it is’ attitude peppered with an honesty that explains my trials, tribulations sheds light on how I manage the eternal struggle of a forty something carer with work, family and life thrown in.  I continually work on the principle that I can do better, but I’m also a fan of your best is good enough.  So I’m off to give this assignment my best, dazzle my new tutor and await my stonkingly good marks. The only way is UP!

Finally I thought I would leave you with this.  I often write about how hard it is to be a “Mum without a Manual’ well this lady’s talk just about sums it up – enjoy.

See you soon.

Where’s the emergency shut off when you need it?

My husband and I hit the town on Saturday – well our version of hitting the town.  Normally this conjures up images of swanky nightclubs and folk in their bling and killer heels.  Our version of hitting the town is in broad daylight on a Saturday while we ponder where we are going to go for coffee and a blether.  It is the highlight of my week because it means I get my husband all to myself.

Anyway coffee over we split up and do a bit of shopping. Christmas it seems has arrived and our normally fairly quiet shopping centre was buzzing with shoppers and Christmas decorations.  In the crush, just as I was about to be run down by a stressed out mum, I thought I would dodge out of her way by jumping onto the escalator.  The poor woman was not only trying to manoeuvre a pram through the crowds, but negotiate her way out of the full-scale temper tantrum planned by the toddler refusing to hold her hand.

Watching all this, and feeling really sorry for her, I misjudged the speed and distance of the escalator and almost landed in a heap.  I quickly recovered my composure but this prompted a terrible flashback. A memory that still haunts me today (but makes my son Spencer laugh so much that he cries).

To tell this story I have to take you back to the time I was a single parent. Spencer and I were getting used to it being ‘just the two of us’. One day, fuelled on by my confidence and independence, I decided to plan a holiday.  It would in fact be our first holiday since I had boarded the one way flight to Planet Divorce. In my case the co-ordinates for Planet Divorce had not been punched into the flight programme thingy. Alas I was, for some considerable time, destined to fly about in crazy randomness.  So yes, a holiday seemed to be a welcome distraction.

The holiday was a success however whilst we were travelling back the ‘incident, which was destined to return as a terrible flashback, occurred.

As my son was only small it was my task when travelling to both look after him and to deal with the luggage. I had one of those pull along bags (which was rather large and heavy) and I also had a rather large and heavy rucksack on my back. Despite feeling a bit like a Sherpa I’d figured this would be the best way to manage things and it had actually worked fine.  Now it just so happened that our return travel meant that we had to catch a train in Birmingham. Arriving in the station could only be described by one word – ‘chaos’.

Making my way through the busy station with my huge pull along bag, rucksack and over-tired child was no mean feat. People were pushing as we tried to head towards an incredibly long escalator. I was struggling to manage our bags and keep an eye on my son so suggested he walked in front of me.  I figured at least that way I could see him and make sure he was OK on the escalator. We both managed to squeeze on and up we went. Behind me I could hear rugby chants. A whole rugby team had got on the escalator and they were in fine form.  That’s when it happened…..

As I reached about half way up the escalator crammed with people the weight of my rucksack started to pull me backwards – I was powerless to do anything and back I went quite unceremoniously. With my son looking down on me I created a domino effect on the escalator and, starting with the rugby team, everybody began to buckle under the weight.

No lives were lost in the telling of this story

Panic ensued.  I can remember lying there seeing my son desperately shouting and crying as he looked on at the chaos I had caused.

I never did quite manage to get to my feet properly from this rugby escalator scrum. In the end everybody just sort of spilled out onto the floor when they reached the top and scrambled to their feet.

The rugby team, bless them, were drunk and thought it was a right good laugh took it in good humour. Someone kindly helped me to my feet and located my bag. There were however a few people who shot me nasty glances and commented, in less than favourable terms, in my general direction. Although I confess to being totally responsible for the whole thing it’s not in my nature to stand out in a crowd.  But stand out I did, and then some.

Surely they realised that if I'd wanted to be the centre of attention I could have done my amazing escalator party trick for them!

It’s kind of hard to pick yourself up from such a bizarre experience and just get on with things. You just can’t act like everything is normal when you’ve taken out a whole escalator.  Spencer was fine and I had no injuries as such.’What happened Mum?’ my son asked with tears in his eyes as I sat there breathless and rather undignified trying to compose myself.

I don’t know what came over me but as I started to explain what had actually happened and why I began to laugh. I mean really laugh.  Tears were rolling down my face as I heard the absurdity of the story I was reliving. My whole body ached with laughter. By this time Spencer had joined in and there the two of us sat on our bags in the middle of the busy station laughing our heads off.

To this day when I get on to an escalator with him he makes me hold onto the rail.

What embarrassing moments have you had?

A Happy Box

I’m trying to work myself up to being a dedicated student again (honest, I am). Playing catch up with my course has been hard and I will confess to not feeling secure in striving to find the balance.  I also seem to have had to write off study time at home.  There is one main reason for this – I’m sharing my study space with my son.  How can I put it, he chats about everything and anything he likes to use this time to catch up with me.  Actually I know I’m blessed that my son enjoys sharing his world with me, but it does nothing for my concentration.

This surprised me.  You see I’m used to working in open plan offices with everything going on around about me.  I have, over the years, perfected the art of being able to ignore the chaos around me and this oblivion allows me to easily be fully engrossed in my work.

Jacqueline wondered why it was so quiet at work today

Not so with my study space. Strange, isn’t it?  Maybe not so much, I like to listen to what my son has to say.  This also provides me with the opportunity to offer my share of support, which I hope helps him cope with his own challenges in this life.  It just ain’t helping my study progress. I have no solution to this as yet, but I’m sure one will come along.

Capitalising on the wonderful Scottish winter's Jacqueline's new study space was just grand - now all she had to do was find the heating switch.

So yes I do feel anxious of ‘study me’ present in my life and sometimes this makes me feel a strange mix of anxiety and exhaustion.

One of the things I’ve been ploughing through recently has been research relating to the impact mental health on society.  My particular area of interest, for obvious reasons, is how being a carer can impact on the health and well-being.  There are oodles of information in this field and I’ve dutifully selected the information I feel have relevant to my next assignment.  In the process however I came across something that I thought was pretty sweet.

Carers were asked to provide tips on beating low mood and one jumped out at me.  Create a happy box.  A happy box contain things you love and if the low mood monster seizes you it is suggested (amongst other things) that you take time out, open your box and enjoy the contents.  You decide what’s in your box.  It got me thinking what would be in my Happy Box?

A bar of Galaxy Chocolate

Scottish Music

A recording of Jimmy Shand.  Yes I really do love this stuff – and not just because I’m Scottish – for me anyway it is impossible not to feel better after listening to a jig, polka, waltz – but the Dashing White Sergeant is my favourite (hey and I’m pretty good at the dance too!)

A bottle of Clinique Elixir perfume – my perfume of choice and I love it.

My Running Shoes  - I know that if I run I feel better, exhausted granted, but always better.

A Note to Myself - reminding me that I can only do what I can do and tomorrow is another day.  A cliché I know, but true – always!

Laughter Therapy - An oldie but a goodie.  I dare you not to smile and feel better when you watch this….

So what would be in your happy box?

Matching clothes and bundles of joy

Well today I decided to really be on the ball.

Yesterday was a BAD hair day.  It was also really foggy and freezing cold and I started the day on the back foot.  Caught out by the turn in the weather I hadn’t factored in time to scrape the car (or spent a good 10 mins searching for said scraper thingy).  Knowing that it was cold I donned lots of woolly things in lovely warm colours.  None of this detracted from the fact that “Project Hair” is really kicking in now.  My roots are terrible coming along nicely.

My annoyance with my noggin didn’t really last.  I don’t think I could stick to this if it really truly bothered me that my hair is less than spectacular, however you know when you look in the mirror and the only thing you want to do is scream sigh – well it was that way with me.

Today however was going to be different.  Not only did I manage to fling something rather nifty on this morning but I got my hair to look presentable passable AND, get this, I even found the time to put some make-up on this morning.  I also decided to throw caution to the wind and make a huge batch of scotch pancakes to take to work with me and  I even made it to work on time.  Give that girl a round of applause (but not too big a round of applause because I forgot the pancakes – they are sitting happily in my kitchen).

Oh her pancakes look wonderful and look, she's wearing matching clothes!

I had in fact decided to make a bit of an effort this morning as my work colleagues and I are going out for lunch to celebrate the start of one of our crew’s maternity leave.  I was really looking forward to this high in my day.  Alas it was not to be.  I received a text to say said colleague is (as of this morning) the proud mum of a baby boy – so lunch is cancelled.  I can live with that – the most important thing in the world is that a new and healthy baby boy has been delivered safely into their world and his parents are quite rightly joyful.  I love it when a plan comes together.

So here I sit in all my finery the matching outfit I managed to cobble together with my mind whirring back to the day 16 years ago that I became a mum.

Like most people there is a story that goes alone with it – but that I feel is not for my blog. What I will say is that the process of giving birth made me feel as though I was superwoman with the whole power of the universe surging through me.  Giving birth gave me an insight into something immensely painful magical and I felt on top of the world because I DID IT!

My own bundle of joy - a few hours old

So today in a wee crib in the local hospital is a bairn who is lucky enough to find himself with one of the nicest people I know as his mum and do you know what – this lady was superwoman even before she gave birth.  So universe, if your listening, send some positive vibes their way.  If she’s feeling anything like I did 16 years ago then she’ll be gazing on her wee bundle of joy with no idea what superpowers she’s going to need to rise to the challenge of being the best mum she can be – but she will.

So hair (check), make-up (check), matching clothes (check) and yes I feel wonderful today – but not because I sit here looking fabulous for a change presentable – but because my friends gift of new life is a truly magical thing.

A Wee Something for the Soul

Quite a few of the blogs I read are by people who have a wonderful gift for writing – many even have the vision and determination to be writing novels.  I take my hat off to you because I don’t think this is something I could ever do.

I do love books though.  Books are precious things but I find I don’t have room for all the books I get through.  Some years ago I decided to pass them on. So, when I finish a book I write a little note in it about why I enjoyed the book and leave it for someone to find. Sometimes I leave them on benches, in supermarkets, even in public toilets.  I never know who picks them up or even if the books I leave are read by those who find them.  I like to think they do – even better to be passed on again in a similar fashion.  There are some books however I know I could never part with and will come back to again and again. One of these is Anam Cara – A Book of Celtic Wisdom written by John O’Donahue.

Anam Cara translates as soul friendship and John was certainly big on love; love of others, of self, of the landscape and even what’s unseen but ever present.  It is believed that you are joined eternally with your anam cara and your friendship crosses all boundaries and convention.  This is made possible as the Celtic understanding did not set limitations of space or time on the soul. So reading this book always causes me to reflect differently on the past, present and even the future.

A trained philosopher John died in 2008.  His family described him as ”a beautiful wild soul that he showered with love and attention” and it is this that I think he shares in Anam Cara.  So, this book may not change your life but it is gentle, whilst still finding way to be rigorous.  It’s also pretty sweet but at the same time challenging. Every time I pick it up and leaf though it I take something different from the words.

My favourite is a poem he wrote called “Beannacht”, which is the Gaelic word for blessing. He uses a wonderful phrase to end his poem; “and so may a slow wind work these words of love around you, an invisible cloak to mind your life”.

Beannacht is wonderful to read, but even more wonderful when read by the author.  Enjoy.

Blogging Marvellous

Well would you believe it today I got a lovely surprise. Robert ( The Quiet Photographer) passed on The Versatile Blogger Award to little o’l me – how lovely is that.

I also received this award a couple of months ago and although I don’t think my blog is any more versatile it is still lovely to receive an award from a fellow blogger (particularly as it comes from a blogger whose work I both admire and enjoy.)

The rules of the ‘Versatile Blogger Award’ are:-

Rule No. 1 – Thank the person who nominated you for the award

• I’m particularly thrilled to receive this award from The Quiet Photographer - who is a nomad of the image.  Robert is exploring his roots and the culture of others, transforming his visual freedom in a style where choices and aesthetics depend on the emotions to be transmitted.  So a huge thank you Robert.  I’m greatly appreciative that you chose to pass this award on to me and I will try very hard to do justice to Rule 2 and 3.

Rule No. 2 – Make a list of 7 things people may not know about you

• 1. When I was younger my passion was ballet and I was fortunate enough to be selected for an audition at the Royal Ballet School in London.
• 2. Injury put paid to the above career path – but in my head I’m still dancing.
• 3. The only reason my passion for shoes has been curtailed is that I now have pins in the joints in my foot. (ouch!)
• 4. I was once invited and attended The Queen’s Garden Party.
• 5. Next to shoes hats are my most favourite things.
• 6. My favourite flowers are tulips – I’ve always thought they die so beautifully.  They don’t frizzle up they just kinda flop over gracefully.
• 7.  I grew up, for the most part in Saudi Arabia, South Africa and Ireland – only returning to Scotland as a teenager.

Rule No. 3 – Nominate 15 blogs you think should receive the award

• In no particular order I’m thrilled to nominate the following fabulous bloggers for the Versatile Blogger Award.  I should also apologies at this point for the rather long post but I wanted to give a bit of info about you all.  I’m also pleased that, having previously made 15 nominations, I’ve come up with a new 15 for this list.

Old Girl at Uni - Check out the ramblings of a mature post grad student struggling to find her way through dealings with slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

Counting Ducks - A lovely blog that deals with the normal muddle and bewilderment of passing life with an optimism not based on any facts.

Dribbling Pensioner - A recent find for me is Harry who promotes himself as ‘just another pensioner with his thoughts – if he can remember them’. This gentleman now has time on his hands to write a blog – Oh and a lovely thing about his blog is that if you comment he always answers!

Kana’s Notebook - This interesting blog is ‘Life in Kanatext, er, Context’. Kana is a writer, explorer, coffee-drinker, book-dragon……. actually Kana is many things. Check it out.

My Open Adventure - This is Aimi’s blog, a young student who writes about being a student and working towards her degree – but not in the way you would expect. If you want to find out Aimi tells it her way, through her own eyes.

Joanna Dobson - Joanna has been blogging since 2009. Through blogging she has realised that it is ok to ‘prioritise to be happy’. If her blog is about one thing it is probably the out working of that discovery.

The PhD Pimpernel - She shares her dualist world – good and evil, life and death, student and supervisor battling eternally. The Pimpernel will tell you that she wanders unsupported and unknowing however this smart lady provides valuable insight and information any student will benefit from. Her journey began almost a decade ago – so there is no shortage of insight.

Jayney Rambles - A lady that loves to write about life and all the stuff that goes with it.  I’ve had many a smile reading this blog.  Jayney always writes what’s on her mind – so yours may need to be open.  A lovely blog.

Carridwen’s Cauldron - This lady rocks! You will find an abundance of wit, wisdom, humour, nonsense, rants and raves all brewed with her special pinch of individuality.

My Creative Voice - Taking the plunge back into education this lady is determined to find a way of combining her love of writing AND get paid for it. Both her love of writing and her determination shine through in her posts.

Angry Pear - Quite simply a joy of a blog.  Yes it is actually about pears, their troubles, joys and their anger.  Angry Pear is a recurring character who is angered by everyone and everything. Created by Drew the sentiment and humour in Angry Pear is just a delight.

Doing it The Open Way - Darragh’s blog documents her journey as an Open University student.  There is some lovely randomness in her writing.

Studying Parent - In the process of working towards a PhD in English Literature this is a lady after my own heart who says up front “I don’t know where this learning journey is taking me but I know I don’t want it to stop”.

Back on My Own - Through her journey from divorce to free spirit Pat kept a journal and discovered a love of writing. I always think reading her posts is like sitting down and having a cuppa with her. Delightful, insightful and personal.

My Open Experience  - Hayley is a young student studying towards a Humanities Degree with Philosophy and Religious specialism – but not in the conventional way. If you want to know more her blog fills the holes of curiosity, oh and her photography is wonderful.

So I’m thrilled – didn’t expect an award. I’m also delighted to nominate all of you.

 I hope that you bask in your glory and go forth and nominate.

It’s too early for Christmas

Lazing about on Saturday morning (when I should have been writing an essay) I decided to tune into my new ‘kick back and smell the coffee’ strategy to life that I re-affirmed whilst I was on holiday.  So that’s what I did.  Smelling the coffee I sat myself right down in the conservatory with my husband, poured a cup and immersed myself in the newspapers.

Me and the lovely Bella pretending we're reading the newspapers

Well actually that’s not true.  I would like to say I immersed myself in the newspapers (which would have been my husbands preferred option) but I’m afraid my brain was a whirring around.

Peter likes to sit quietly with his coffee and papers in the morning, whereas I like to chat. It’s probably the one area in this life that we’re not compatible.  That said he’s coming round

Earlier that morning we had a conversation about Christmas.  Peter mentioned that he didn’t want anything for Christmas, but was keen to know what I wanted.  So yes it’s a bit early for the “C” talk. Actually I hadn’t made any plans for Christmas as in all fairness there was nothing jumping out at me that I though he might like or need.  However I was a whole different story.  When he asked me what I wanted I said ‘a bedroom’.

Now I know this might sound a little daft, but it really is what I want.  You see since Peter’s elderly mum moved in with us we converted our bedroom and dressing room so that she has a little apartment within our house.  This meant that Peter and I moved upstairs to what used to be the study (a much smaller space).  As our new bedroom is in the eaves of the house the ceiling slants down.  This means, if I want to avoid knocking myself out of a morning, I have to do this strange limbo dance when I get out of bed. Lets just say I regularly forget which results in me starting the day not in the best of moods.

Jacqueline vowed to get better at this limbo dancing lark

Our current bedroom is also very cramped and although a lovely space it affords us little privacy. So my dream is to have a bedroom, a real bedroom.

This came to my mind when we were away on holiday. I enjoyed living in our little holiday apartment  as much as I enjoyed the holiday (particularly as said apartment came with a bedroom, privacy and high ceiling).  So the notion of a bedroom sort of stayed with me.

Anyhow joy of joys Peter said he would get right on to it and it wouldn’t take him long! He even roped in his friend Mathew to help – and get this – Mathew was arriving at 10am sharp today.  Now just to put things into perspective I wasn’t expecting Peter to magic a bedroom by way of building an extension whilst I was at work or anything crazy like that. We do have one other bedroom in the house but as we need to have space for family/carers to stay then this room is required.  I should also add that it doubles as storage space as we have never quite got the ‘extra furniture’ balance right since Peter’s mum moved in.

So that’s where we stand, however therein lies the solution.  The ‘Red Room’ as it is affectionately know is a beautiful room and sits empty most of the time.  This is to become our bedroom and when family /carers come to stay then we can decant back temporarily to the study/bedroom upstairs.  I am so overjoyed I can’t tell you.  The red room has an enormous canopy above the bed and the red walls glow with a beautiful warm colour in the mornings, breaking you gently into your day.  It also has its own en-suite AND, get this, SKY TV!

So over the next wee while my lovely husband will be working on my Christmas pressie, making my wishes come true.

So yes, this has been another juggle in our life as carers.  Why has it taken us so long I hear you ask? Well that’s often the way it is for carers.  You end up sorting so many things out for others that you either run out of energy or time to sort your own stuff out.

Sometimes I find myself lying upstairs in our little bedroom/study listening to the rain battering against the skylight window and feel slightly annoyed with myself for wishing I had a bedroom. After all there are people sleeping rough in the very rain that pitter patters against my window.  So yes it is true, I am blessed to have a roof over my head, but hey a girl can dream, can’t she?

So yes, it is too early to think about Christmas – but this gal is really hoping Christmas comes early

So when our house is full of teenagers I will care not a jot.

When the cats are hunting me down for food I will remain strong…..

…….because THIS will be hanging on our bedroom door…

Useful tip for fellow bloggers – passing it on…..

I just thought I would pass on a little tip I picked up from another blogger.

Apparently it seems that folks reading your posts on their iPad (lucky things) don’t automatically see your posts as they appear on your site – instead they get the ‘mobile view’ version.  This is because WordPress has a default setting on your blog called OnSwipe – which means that readers are only treated to this ‘rather rubbish’ and limited version of your post.

It seems only right that if we put in the work to write a blog then the readers should be able to read it in all it’s glory. The good news is they can, and this can be achieved by making a wee (and very easy) change on your blog settings.

I therefore pass on the credit to Kana of Kana’s Notebook for pointing this out.  Not only am I grateful to her for highlighting this but this canny lady also provides us with straightforward instructions on how to disable these pesky mobile settings. (Just click on the Kana’s Notebook link above and it takes you straight to it).

Thank goodness Mature Student Hanging in There changed her settings - that mobile view was rubbish

Happy blogging folks.

Calling all the heroes

One of the major things that has been going on in our lives is that in September 2010 we became involved in the mother of all planning wrangles. We planned to extended home when my mother in law moved in with us – sounds simple doesn’t it. Yeh we thought so too.

The struggle that ensued with the local Council however could only be described as one hell of a mud fight and although I wanted to jump into the ring and slog it out fight our corner my husband took a different tack. Singlehandedly he unleashed staggering levels of patience, resilience, insight, diplomacy and an amazing ability to absorb planning and policy law to a degree that now perfectly explain why he spent every waking hour in front of his computer. What ensued was our cloud with silver lining.

Despite incompetent  hesitant local Council Planner and a small number of obstructive concerned ‘nimby’ neighbours and ‘co-opted hangers on’ we finally got our planning permission. We now only require a building warrant.  (Note to husband – send more positive vibes to the local Council Department).

I’ll be honest. Despite all the wranglings there was never a time when we felt like throwing in the towel. Well we couldn’t really.  We had made a commitment to care for Peter’s Mum and so lack of space dictated that we really had to fight this.  However as far as the neighbours went this didn’t seem to figure in things.  The noise from Hewlett Packard printers going full bung in our neighbourhood churning out letters of objection was quite deafening. I understand that the paper trail on our application is now so huge that the Council are currently considering building another Archive Centre in Inverness. (Good luck chaps on getting the planning permission for that one then).

Yes I guess I do sound a tad bitter – however quite a few realisations took form as we inched through this process. For one it really made me question the role of public engagement in decision making processes.  OK there were lots of public objections to our application but the system, we quickly realised, really wasn’t geared up to deal with them, or us (and clearly didn’t).  It made me question whether it banks on people being too selfish, lazy or dare I say it stupid. Had we not been driven, aware and vocal enough then shocking inaccuracies would have been accepted as fact. Certainly the system gives a nod to engagement, but when they actually have to deal with said engagement you just become one of those ‘difficult’ people they want to go away a problem. The plus side to all of this is that it really was a ‘throw in the towel’ situation or ‘be prepared to turn into a superhero’.  My husband chose the latter – I just didn’t have time to make him the costume.

I'm gonna need more than just the Superhero Gloves!

So I guess we are now at the good bit; the stage of being able to think about the creative stuff. I love the creative bit and I’m focussing on this because that way I don’t have to think about the fact that walls need to be knocked down, leaving enormous holes, and stairs etc moved. I don’t have to think about the fact that the house will be full of workmen and that my husband will probably be working such long hours that he’ll be sleeping in his hard hat. Then take into account “Project Hair” and we could be looking at significantly more grey than I’d factored in. No I will not think of the disruption of building.

What I want to think about are things like this……

Who couldn't smile sliding down these stairs of a morning!

So although work hasn’t yet started I have begun to accept that, despite all that’s going on in my life, there will be a period of disruption development. However not only will this give us more space but we will also have a home that meets the needs of all of us.

Of course the other bonus of this is that I will also have a new kitchen space. I say ‘I’ because this is generally my area in the house.  Our kitchen is lovely but small – add the whole family crammed into the kitchen – then add two cats (sounds like a recipe doesn’t it) but let me tell you if you’re the gal trying to get the cooking done it’s enough to tip you over the edge make the task a bit more complicated.

So although the future holds upheaval I’m also looking forward to it. Do you think we should invite the neighbours in to see it when it’s finished?

Mum without a manual

OK, here’s the thing, you know when you become a Mum you quickly realise that there ain’t no manual and the startling realisation hits you that you are quite simply winging it on your own. Well I’ve recently had one of those “where the hell is the manual when you need it” moments.

Be a Mum and Live to Tell the Tale

My son Spencer is 16 going on 17.  He’s a good kid (despite my lack of a manual) and although he’s had his moments, on the whole he’s not the scary unmanageable teenager parents often dread.  He studies, granted with encouragement (note the positive word I used there) he plays piano and still has music lessons, he volunteers at a local charity shop and he has a job in a cafe. He likes to cook, does his own washing and ironing and despite lengthy periods of disappearing into his room he will still come and sit with us and watch TV of an evening.  Best of all he will pop his head out of the door when I come home and give me a kiss and ask about my day.  All in all he’s showing potential of shaping up to being one of the good guys.

Anyway back to the manual bit.  Well we recently made a change in the house which means that I have given half of my study space to share it with Spencer.  The psychology behind this is that he has a place to study away from his bedroom and the usual distractions.  So far it’s working pretty well.  When we’re both there studying I notice that conversations often start and I get the…..

Mum?

Yep

What do you think about……….?

I’ll let you fill in the gaps, I’ve probably heard most of them.

Anyhow the latest ones, and my reason for writing this post, are that he wants to grow his hair AND get his ear pierced.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.  All teenagers are searching for their identity, it’s normal. We all did it.  Hell I’ve been searching for my identity for years.  Oh yeah I’ve been through it all – influenced by the glossy images in magazines I’ve probably spent years trying to look like someone else and it was only in my 40′s that I gave myself permission to give up with my quest and just be me.  If the genes are anything to go by Spencer’s probably got a way to go.

OK if I’m honest I like his hair short and I would rather he didn’t pierce his ears BUT I can understand where he’s coming from.

So (minus the manual) what did I say.  Well digging deep into my heart I reminded myself that I am blessed to have a son that isn’t disappearing out of the door on a Friday evening with a crate of beer under his arm and a packet of cigarettes in his pocket.  I know that he still accepts that ‘what we say goes’ even although at times he doesn’t agree with said advice/restrictions.  Sure he might push the boundaries a little bit but wouldn’t think to just step over them with blatant disregard.  So I took a deep breath and asked him to tell me about it. Which he did.

Having heard what he had to say I told him that as he’s 16 and I don’t really feel I have a big say in what he does with his hair.  I did say that I preferred his hair short and tidy, but understand and accept that he wants to grow it. What we agreed is that if he is going to grow it then he needs to ensure that regular visits to the hairdresser keep it in check and on track. He accepted this acknowledging that he needs to be smart for work etc.

Now the ear-piercing.  Well in reality there are things that he’s lets slip of late (and he agreed with this). Having a piercing means that you have to take care of it otherwise you’re dealing with nasty infections.  What we agreed is that if he can show the commitment to get some of the things he’s lets slip back on track then we can talk about getting a piercing.

So folks that’s where we got to without a manual.  I know having your ear pierced isn’t a bit deal – or is it?  I think society has moved on a bit and having your ear pierced isn’t viewed as negatively as it used to be (although not by everyone).  The bottom line that I’m hanging on to is that at least with a piercing you can take it out if the occasion calls for it.

So I admit to feeling like I was floundering in the dark a bit.  Am I being too strict, am I not being strict enough?  Hell I don’t know.

If anyone out there has THE manual – could you look it up for me and get back to me on this one.

The Bogie Man

Today is the anniversary of the death of my much-loved cat Bogart (or Bogie Man as I called him) an enormous black cat that adored me as much as I adored him.

Bogie came into my life when I was 18 and shared a flat with my sister in Glasgow. Along with his sister (a wee black kitten name Garbo, on account of the fact that she wasn’t much into the affection malarky and looked at you with eyes that said, “I want to be alone”) they were the first pets that were truly ours – not just family pets.

The Bogie Man had some strange characteristics, one of them was that he was a wonderful thief. He had a penchant for jewellery and if ever you lost an earring or a necklace you would always find it tucked into the folds in his bed.

One night however his thieving ways almost killed him.  In the dark of night he managed to get into the kitchen cupboard and found a half full can of cat food.  Unable to resist he munched his way through the contents only to find that his head was stuck.  I awoke to bashing and crashing in the hallway outside my bedroom door and rushed to investigate. My sleepy eyes had trouble making out the sight.  There was the Bogie Man with a can of cat food rammed hard on his head crashing and bouncing off the walls.

Panic ensued as it became clear that the can was wedged hard and, with the vacuum that had been created, he couldn’t breathe.  Grabbing the now frantically flailing around cat, with all his claws fully extended, he ripped me to bits as I eventually pulled off the can with a loud gloopy pop.  He breathed heavily and shook his head as he regained full consciousness on the floor beside his shaking and bloody owner.

I would love to say that he never stole again, but he did.  From that day however he loved me unconditionally with a passion that was quite staggering.

The Bogie Man lived to the ripe old age of 18 ending his life with Feline AIDS (which the vet suggested he would hush up as I was by then working with an organisation supporting people with HIV – clearly the educational info on HIV transmission was lost on said vet).

Sadly todays blog has no photographs of my Bogie Man.  These were casualties of my divorce (don’t ask!).  I remember him fondly though and although I now live with two beautiful and crazy cats who have bags of charisma and I love dearly my Bogie Man will always have a wee special place in my heart.

So of all the gin joints in all the towns I’m glad that he walked into mine.  Here’s looking at you, kid!  I wish I still could.

**********************

7.49 pm – Just thought I would add this…..I realised when I got home tonight that I may not have photographs of The Bogie Man but I do have a small pastel done by my ex-husband of me and my Bogie Man.  Thought I would share it.

 

9 things I love about ‘NOW’

In the short time since I started blogging I’ve been fortunate enough to link up with some pretty amazing people and I really enjoy reading what they choose to share.  Spurred on by a recent challenge many of them have recently taken on I’ve decided, having read Caroline’s recent contribution, to pick up the baton and write about 9 things I love about now.  I do this for one main reason – it is such a positive thing to stop and take time to remind yourself of the good things in your life, in your now.

When I sat down to write this I wondered what on earth my brain would come up with. I cherish much in my life – so what would my brain throw up for this post.

Firstly I thought about those I love.  I don’t have a wide circle in my life of family or friends, preferring to keep things tight, simple and special.  These special folk know who they are and how much I love them and I in turn I know they love me – so I won’t go down too personal a route.  So here goes, in no particular order this is what came up….

No. 1 – Little Old Me

It’s true I love that I’m happy and confident in my own skin.

I accept who I am, I know my faults and foibles and I also know that I have great strengths. Put them all into the mixing pot and they are what makes me ME and I kinda like that.

Sure I know that there is always room for improvement but in an uncharacteristically (and very un-Scottish) way – I can honestly say that like the person I am.

Things that make me ME - my much loved Dr Martens

No.2 – Study

I love that I have found the confidence to study and I’m a better kinda me as a result of it.

No. 3 – Being a Mum

I love being a Mum.  My son is 16, and although being his mum is not without it’s challenges, one day I hope he will realise that he has shaped me as much as I hope I’m shaping him.

No. 4 – Writing

I’ve discovered through this wee blog that I love to write and I get a real do get such a kick out of the fact that folk like you take the time to read it.  I feel good about being brave enough to start this and can proudly say I’ve come to really love my wee blog.

No. 5 – Our Home

Duart Lodge is my most favourite place in the whole world.  A good while before I married Peter I was a single parent struggling to pick up life post (messy) divorce.  I lived in a lovely (but freezing) remote cottage at the top of a hill.  Since moving into Duart Lodge the place has seen a good few changes (and there will be more to come) but it’s now my home.  I share it with Peter, Spencer (my son) and Sylvia (my 94 year old mother in law).  There is also Bella and Tam our cats AND would you believe, despite living right in the centre of Inverness we have deer that visit for food morning and night.  One special one, aptly named Bambi, is a regular (and she has been visiting for about 10 years).

"Never mind standing there admiring me, where are my apples?"

She waits patiently in the garden for you to throw her apples (which MUST be braeburns) – she doesn’t even mind if you’re in the garden with her.  I will never tire of looking out the window in the morning and seeing her looking up and licking her lips.

No. 6  - Chocolate

What more can I say.....

No. 7 – Cooking

Cooking is my destresser and I love to cook.  My family will tell you that if I’ve had a bad day dinner will always come with a white sauce.  The way I see it if I’ve had a day of things not kind of working out when you put the ingredients into the pan, you stir and it thickens – every time!  There is something wonderfully predictable and comforting in that.

If you’re looking for real comfort then look no further than Scotch Pancakes…… Put 4oz of self raising flour in a bowl, add an egg, a pinch of salt and enough milk to make it thick and gloopy.  Using a ladle (the mixture should be thick enough that it doesn’t run off the ladle but instead kinda falls gently and apologetically off slowly) dollop out pancake size amounts into a hot pan.  Watch for the bubbles and then turn them over.

A perfect bundle of pancakes in 5 minutes tops - enjoy.

No. 8 – Humour

Show me someone who doesn’t like to laugh and I’ll show you someone who doesn’t know how to live.  Humour underpins my life. It serves to keep me sane and to keep those around me laughing (so they don’t actually notice how insane I actually am).

No. 9 – My Biggest Supporter

Although I didn’t intend to single out any one person I know that I couldn’t end this wee post without a nod to my biggest fan in this life.  My man has been my biggest supporter and he is solely responsible for encouraging me to take the plunge into study.  He has also given up bachelorhood to share his home and his life with a crazy woman, her son (who is now his step-son) and two pretty unusual and equally crazy cats.  I have not only transformed his home, but also his life – and not always for the better – yet he doesn’t complain.  He reads my blogs everyday and never comments – maybe today he will – what do you think?

Peter the Invincible

So what are you’re 9 things you love now?

Even if you never share your list it’s an exercise that makes you appreciate what you’ve got. There is also the distinct possibility that in getting to No.9 your realise there are actually many more people, experiences, food, wickedly joyous things you can’t divulge, things you could add to your ‘things I love list’.

Go on I dare you to give it a go.

Study Jitters

It’s really not unusual when starting the next phase of study to have the jitters.  Surprisingly mine have lasted a little longer than I had expected and worryingly have got in the way of me truly getting started in any real productive sense.

No caption required!

On Saturday however, with encouragement and help with my travel plans (which I’m hopeless with) from my husband, I boarded the 6.45am train from Inverness to Glasgow to attend a lecture/tutorial in Caledonian University.  Yes, little old me attending a lecture in a real university. I hoped the experience would steady my nerves and spur me on.

I checked the room we were working in and as I got in the lift to take me to the 4th floor I could feel butterflies in my stomach.  By the time I was standing at the classroom door with my hand on the door knob my stomach was lurching uncomfortably.  I turned the handle and walked in.  That’s when it all changed…….

The tutor was friendly and welcoming and it turned out that there would only be a small group of us working through our anxieties attending the tutorial.  There were polite ‘hellos’ and amazement from the other local students that I had made such a long journey (4 hours) down (and would make the same one back that evening).

By the time we had our first comfort break things had began to feel, well comfortable actually.  I was not alone in my anxieties I learnt from the other students and many are juggling just as much as me.  The common denominator is that we were all in search of the same holy grail – a BA/BSc (Honours) Health and Social Care.

With the tutorial under my belt I had faced my anxieties, gathered a huge amount of relevant information which would allow me to get the first essay under my belt AND importantly I had linked up with some valuable study buddies.

Feeling light of heart and with a spring in my step I left the tutorial to head back to the train station.  As I got close to the station a young man dressed in only a Darth Vader mask and his underpants skateboarded past me.  Nobody else seemed to bat an eye but I smiled so much I even forgot to try to take a photograph.

As I sat on the train Mr Darth Vader Skateboarder Man served to remind me that we’re all different and we need to believe enough in ourselves if we are truly going to follow our passions.  I thought to myself how blessed I was that the trip had reignited my passion for study and fortunate that my passion wasn’t in fact skateboarding in my underwear.  Study for me is infinitely more do-able!

'With our combined strength we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy (Darth Vader)

So today, as I open my books to get cracking, thanks to the tutorial and Mr Darth Vader Skateboarding Man I truly do feel that ‘The Force is With Me”

Please don’t ignore me, I’m standing right in front of you

I decided to walk to work today, not as part of my keeping fit regime but more for my ‘trying to reduce the stress in my life’ regime.  But more about that later…..

It was a beautiful mild November morning and I felt quite content kicking up the leaves as I walked along the banks of the River Ness.

This morning

I enjoy walking to work and am frequently reminded of what a beautiful part of the world I am fortunate enough to live in.  As I walked I passed the odd jogger, people also walking to work, mothers pushing prams and people walking dogs.  Manners and the fact that I’m a nice kinda person dictates that I always smile and say hello to people.  It never ceases to amaze me how many people neither react to or return the gesture. A simple smile or a hello is all that is required.  Of course some people do – even stopping to talk about the weather or let me clap their dog.  It’s nice to be nice I feel, but clearly some people just want to exist in their own little world and don’t want to be disturbed by my wee hello and smile – instead choosing to pretend that the smiling woman is not actually there – so they walk past looking at the ground.

Their attitude of ignoring me, pretending I’m not there took me back to last night – and the reason for my stress free walk to work this morning.

Last night I was late leaving work – I had some trouble winding up a meeting with a client who was not responding to my our meeting is now over signals, instead choosing to continue to go over stuff that we had already covered.  I understood this, he was stressed and worried and his problems could not be resolved quickly or in one meeting.  However we had spent some considerable time together and I had identified and agreed a strategy to sort things out.  It was the end of the day and I needed to get home.

Eventually I closed up the meeting, jumped into my car and in response to a text from my husband I stopped at the supermarket to buy something for dinner and pick up other bits and pieces.  That done I headed home.  Now Inverness might be a city but it’s not a huge place and although traffic was busy I don’t think anyone from a real city would consider it to be rush hour traffic in the sense that they are used to.  I waited in the queue of traffic to get on to the roundabout and noticed a police car parked up beside the roundabout.  I smugly patted myself on the back for remembering to display my new car tax disc on my windscreen – confident in the fact that they couldn’t pull me over for being in breach of road tax regulations.  It was my turn and off I went onto the roundabout.  Then NOTHING – my car died right in the middle of the roundabout.

Despite panic setting in I managed to turn on my hazard lights while people tooted and shouted at me.  I would like to tell you that I looked like a damsel in distress however the fact is that I looked like a crazy lady with a car full of shopping and eyes resembling a rabbit caught in the headlights.

HEEELLLLLP ME!!!!!!

By this stage cars were now dangerously trying to drive around me and there was no way my car was starting.  It felt like an eternity when I noticed a high viz jacket coming towards me. It was a trucker who had spotted my panic and parked up just off the roundabout.  The policewoman who had been sitting in the police car close by arrived and between them they pushed me off the roundabout and I parked up behind the truck.

I explained that my battery light had come on just as I pulled on to the roundabout so the policewoman said she would head back to base and get a battery charger.  The trucker, who I discovered was called Joe kindly offered to stick around – and so we waited.

Whilst we waited for the police to return we chatted and I discovered that Joe also hailed from Glasgow.  Not only that our grandparent lived in the same block of flats – Pinkston Drive – on the same floor!  Joe was just finishing his shift when he stopped to help but assured me that his wife and daughter would not be home until later – so he wasn’t missing anything important like his dinner.  The fact that I was safe and things were being sorted also meant that I didn’t have to call my husband – who I know would have rescued me – but that would have complicated things even more.  It’s not easy for carers just to drop stuff at home and come a running.

It was nice of Elvis to stop by and give us a tune, but in reality he really wasn't helping

Eventually the policewoman returned, my car sprung into life and there was relief all round, lots of thank-you’s from me and then I was off home.

In reality it all happened in a bit of a flash but as I drove home I could feel my legs shaking and my heart pounding.  So yes Inverness experienced a huge traffic jam last night with our rush hour traffic resembled rush hour in London – all down to little old me.  So if you were one of the people who were late home for your dinner last night I apologise and promise not to do it again.

So what’s the moral of this story – well like the people who choose to ignore me and not to smile and say hello as I walk to work they would probably also be the people who would toot at a crazy broken down woman and shout as they drove past.  However there are people who smile, say hello.

So yes, it’s nice to be nice, but sometimes when people find themselves in a bit of a rut it’s more than just nice, it’s a lifesaver.

So thank you Universe for the people who smile and say hello (and stop to help if you break down) – because it really does make all the difference in the world.  Well, it did to me.

But I don’t like Melton Mowbray pies!

Scots all over the world today woke up to the news that ‘we need to be eating like the English“.  First off I must stress that I am in no way, shape or form anti-English, but us Scots are a pretty patriotic lot and like it or not I acknowledge that there still a divide between Scotland and England.  You only have to look to the future and our Scottish Government’s proposals for independence.  It’s a kind of touchy subject.  I question this message’s place and effectiveness in promoting health.

In my past my work background was firmly rooted in health promotion, I am also studying in the areas of public health and social care at the moment but it is my Scottishness that was piqued by this message.

Health promotion messages are powerful things but it’s a fine line. I understand that people may feel that they are being blamed for their poor health.  Many health promotion messages impact on people by making them feel even more isolated and bad about their choices and place the blame on lifestyle instead of evoking the proactive positive change response they intend.  Lets be honest, change can difficult for us all, any change, and for us to initiate change we need to feel empowered to do so. So is the message to Scots to ‘eat like the English’ really the way I to go about it?

Lets be honest though the state of play in Scotland is that death rates from heart disease and cancer are higher than in England.  Diet is an important factor that cannot be ignored if we are to address these scary statistics.  Last year researchers figured that more than 30,000 lives per year could be saved if everyone in the UK stuck to the dietary guidelines on fat, salt, fibre and fruit and veg.  Experts from the Department of Public Health at the University of Oxford have, quite rightly, turned their attention to the difference in eating habits in the UK.

So how will this message be received in Scotland?  Well listening to a debate on Radio Scotland this morning the presenter (unhelpfully) joked that a balanced diet in Scotland is a pie in each hand.  Funny, but not really helpful (although I also have to accept that there is a bit of truth in this).

OK I’m Scottish and I think that there are lots of ‘healthy’ Scottish food out there.  I do eat haggis, neeps and tat ties – and not just on Burns Night.  I love Scotch Broth and oat cakes.  I love to cook and so I know what is going into my pot of Scotch Broth – unlike eating it out a tin which is probably higher in salt content than I would dare (or want to) include in my homemade version.

We all hear the jokes about chip shops making deep-fried Mars Bars in Glasgow – I’ve seen this, it’s not made up, people actually do eat this stuff.

Yep it's true - and comes with chips and an average calorie content of 400++++ !!!!!

I think part of all of this is education, but it really is on part of the solution.  There are a high number of people living on very low incomes.  It’s all fine and well telling them to eat more fruit and veg but if you’re trying to do this on a budget and only have access to a poor selection at a local overpriced shop I can understand why people give up when their kids turn their nose up at the stuff.  It might not be right but it’s real.  How does the message to ‘eat like the English’ help a young mum faced with this type of scenario day in day out?

On the flip side does this send a mixed message to the people in England (who think it’s OK to have chips for lunch and take-away for dinner) that their diet is OK?  Simplistic I know, forgive me, it is not my intention to over simplify what is a complicated situation – however I do believe you kinda have to look at it from this stance too.

This health promotion message is clearly accurate, sadly I just don’t think it’s really helpful. I don’t believe it’s going to dramatically change the eating habits of people in Glasgow East who are living in poverty and have a life expectancy lower than the Gaza Strip (sadly THIS statistic is true).

I know what I need to do to improve my diet – sure my diet is OK but there is always room for improvement, right?.  Importantly I know how to cook smart in order to make meals healthier.  You can make healthier fish and chips for example, you don’t have to stick to the traditional version sold in paper so that it soaks up the grease.

Small steps - healthier fish and chips

So it’s not always about foregoing things you love, it’s just about doing things a wee bit differently.  As I say I know how to cook and arguably I can afford to buy healthier food. Many folks aren’t able to and if no one has taught you to cook smart then the reality is that you don’t.

There is no sweeping solution to this problem and it’s not going to change overnight but as a nation we ignore the impact of inequality at our peril.

Like many Scots I will be interested in our Scottish Government’s response to the instruction for us to ‘Eat Like the English’ – not in terms of how they as a Government feel about this instruction but how they, in their position of some significant power, are going to address the deep rooted social problems that contribute negatively to the health of our nation.

Lest we forget health is a devolved issue in Scotland – so come on Mr Salmond how are you going to help us all to eat more like the English?

So I’ve had my rant, and although this is an issue for Scotland we are all targeted by health promotion messages.  So what do you think – do they work?

Can health promotion campaigns help us change our choices and behaviour?

What’s the best/worst health promotion campaign/message you’ve come across?

I should say I published this blog and was shamed prompted to come back and post these two photographs taken by my husband on our recently holiday.  Healthy eating – NOT

Yes burgers were also involved

Holidays don’t count though – do they?

It all started with an essay that’s due….

Languishing in a hot bath last night surrounded by the heady smell of lavender I confess to being in heaven.  We have a HUGE old bath – one of those ones on legs that I think must have been designed to accommodate an elephant.  You have to climb into it and when I lie down my feet don’t touch the end.  I just float about in steamy lavender bliss.

My favourite room

As I lay there  I felt the trials and tribulations of the day the day disappear – except that is for my studies.  Gearing up to writing my first essay for my next Open University (OU) course I could feel the tell-tale signs of it beginning to form in my head.

I’ve learnt that when I study I don’t just do it in front of the books or the laptop.  It kind of whirs around in my head forming all sorts of pictures and making all sorts of connections. On one hand it’s very comforting to know that my brain is actually processing what I’m reading.  Worryingly I haven’t yet discovered successfully how to switch this off!

Dunking my head under the hot water my Public Health reading stubbornly refused to dissipate so I just had to give in to it and let my thoughts about what I’ve been reading recently take whatever shape they felt necessary.

For some reason I recalled my mum talking about growing up in Glasgow after the war.  She lived with my grandmother and grandfather and her brother in a small tenement, which was effectively a room and kitchen.  It had no bathroom.

Back in those days to have a bath you actually had to go to the public baths.  It was a weekly outing for families and in addition to being able to have a bath or a shower (or sprays as they were known in Glasgow) you swim in a pool.

I remember swimming pools just like this when I was wee

These big old public baths with their swimming pool and baths/showers they also had what was affectionately known as ‘steamies’ where people could do their laundry. As people by and large didn’t have such amenities in their home by 1915 public baths and wash-houses could be found in nearly every British town.

The introduction of these public amenities provides a useful way of understanding the changing priorities of public health professionals of the time and also the changing attitudes of the working class.  The connection between personal cleanliness and disease had evolved and these wash-houses were I guess a response influenced by the sanitary reform campaign.

It was the Steamies (laundry) at these public baths that intrigued me and one that I used to ask my grandmother and mum to tell me stories about.  Laundry was ‘women’s work’ and so Steamies were places where women gathered.

Back in the day - a typical Glasgow steamie

So in line with public health priorities the demand for laundry grew out of the awareness of the link between dirt and disease.  Clean clothes were a sign of social superiority.  The women would gather at the steamie to do the washing (and also ‘take in’ washing for more affluent households to earn a bit of money) while the husbands and the kids went swimming and to the baths. (That’s why people of a certain age from Glasgow still say ‘I’m going to the baths’ when they go swimming).

Steamies were important places and despite the fact that it was clearly hard work my grandmother loved the steamie.  You see your friends were there – this is where you talked to you pals.  After all, in trying to cope with your lot in life, it was your pals that stuck with you and got you through it – and that was her experience.

So for all this being a focus on public health for my grandmother and her pals it was a necessary part of life.  The kids, husband and the clothes got clean and women benefitted from spending time with their pals – all women coping with the same things.

There have been plays and books written about this and with my mind drawn to the public health side of it I can’t help wondering whether communities gained a lot more than just better health as a result of the public baths.

I have no desire to return to this era but it just shows you how much community and health has changed and what influences us today.

I can stick the washing machine on while I’m running a bath.  I don’t have to buy a ticket and leave my clothes in a cubicle and I don’t have a limited period of time to enjoy the hot water.  I also have a little hand sanitizer bottle in the bottom of my handbag – changed days eh!

So all that started for me with a hot bath, an abundance of public health reading material and some memories.  Who said study wasn’t fun

So the in-between bit commences

Well my ‘should I just go grey post‘ prompted lots of lovely and funny comments.  It seems many of us have quite strong feelings about our grey hair.  I do too, but that aside I can say with some confidence (and a little bit of trepidation) that I’ve decided to bin the hair dye and, well, just go for it actually.  No more hair dying for me.

STEP AWAY FROM THE HAIR DYE!!!!!

I have to say that thankfully I’m not doing this alone.  Wonderfully my post prompted a lovely lady whose blog I follow (Cerridwen’s Cauldron where she has been offering her wit, wisdom, humour, nonsense, rants and raves all brewed with a pinch of individuality since 2009) to offer to become my hair buddy.  We are going to attempt to get to the root of our hair issues.

Actually it’s not really a fair match. My hair buddy is growing her locks in following chemotherapy and has firmly set her sights on ensuring that her hair reaches her tailbone.  I on the other hand am neither dealing with such stressful circumstances nor have I set myself such a high benchmark. However I am hugely grateful for her offer of support.

So I thought it only fair to update you on my ponderings following your comments, guidance and hilarity following my suggestion.  I fully support and understand those of you who were honest enough to say that a ‘grey period’ would be your worst nightmare.  Likewise I celebrate those of you who have taken the plunge, love it and even get compliments on your dye free locks.

So this gal is going for it.  I can’t say it is going to be easy,  but it will certainly be interesting. Growing out any style, or even just growing your hair, is a bit of a challenge.

Whose Idea was this exactly?

There will be days when I will be so fed up that I will want to give in, book a hair appointment and hope that my hairdresser can wave a magic wand.  In theory during this ‘in between bit’ I may also look a bit strange – I have no way of knowing.

What I do know is that I’m up for this.  I also think steering clear of the nasty chemicals is no bad thing.  But that’s not why I’m doing it.  I curious to see what the real me looks like.

For those who may be interested I’ll keep you posted on how I’m getting on with “Project Grey” meantime this gal is heading out now to buy some hats!

Scots the hail year roond

I’m pretty proud of my Scottish roots and in particular the fact that I’m a Glasgow lass.  The fact that I now live in the Scottish Highands means that I live with a different kind of Scottishness in particular the Invernesian traits.  As they say however you can take the girl out of Glasgow but you can’t take Glasgow out of the girl.  I still live my life very influenced by my Glasgow roots and hang on to my Glasgow accent with pride.

My Scottishness, I’ve noticed, seems to come to the fore at certain times of the year, particularly today, Halloween.  Now I’m not knocking any of the American traditions but I’ve noticed over the years that the Scottishness of Halloween is all but disappearing.  In my day we didn’t do ‘Trick or Treat’ mainly because most of our neighbours would have kicked our preverbal backsides if we’d tried any of the trick stuff on them.  In Scotland we went guisin (which is Scottish for dressing up).  There was never a shop bought costume in sight – most people (including the boys) raided their grannies wardrobes and went guisin as old women – quite a site.

Ready for their Halloween you would never guess that these guisers were only 9 years old!

Of course the important aspect of guisin was that it wasn’t enough just to dress up, you had to earn your treat by performing a song, reciting a poem or telling a joke.  This, I recall, was taken very seriously because if you were rubbish then ultimately so was your treat (yes I know we’re a tough race!).

I have fond memories of going guisin with my friends all looking like versions of our grandmothers carrying huge shopping bags we hoped to be fill as we wandered round from house to house.  Of course in those days the kids were free to wander without a responsible adult in sight – changed days eh!

It wasn’t just the kids who took it seriously.  It wasn’t uncommon to be invited into a house to ‘dook for apples’ (which translates as ducking for apples) – this meant leaning over a bowl of water and with your hands behind your back trying to pick one of the apples up with your teeth.  You would then move on to the ‘treacle scone’ (which was my favourite).  A scone would be smeared with copious amounts of black treacle and hung from the ceiling – with your hands behind your back you had to try to get a bite of the swinging treacle scone. It was not uncommon to find yourself soaking wet and with treacle all over your face and hair.  Of course the adult me has the utmost admiration for these households who didn’t seem to mind the water and treacle we left adorning the carpet when we left.

Folks would fill our bags with sweets, fruit and of course the proverbial monkey nuts (which none of us seemed to have terrible allergies to) but the best was money. People would put money in our bags and so at the end of our exploits we would have plenty of sweets to eat and money to buy even more to rot our teeth!

As for pumpkins I don’t think I actually saw one until I was an adult.  Our lanterns were carved out of keeps (turnips) – very Scottish!

So I guess my plea is to keep things ‘Scots the hail year roond’ and by keeping things Scots the whole year round we can hang on to our traditions.

So in our house there will be ‘Trick or Treat’ but the ‘trick’ will be that guisers will experience a Scottish Halloween with all the treats that has to offer.

Happy Guisin folks!

Me and my son Spencer getting ready for a Scottish Halloween

What traditions do you try to hold on to?

Is grey the new black?

I’ve been a thinking (see that’s what holidays do for you) and it’s been on my mind for a couple of weeks now – my grey hair.

Now I’m not really the sort of gal who gets too hung up on my appearance, I’m pretty happy with my lot but I am aware that time is slowly changing me and I’m not too sure how I feel about all of that.  Importantly how I really want to handle it.

This year saw me turning 45 I also became a member of the bifocal group so now I wear my specs all the time – and I freely admit that I’m hopeless without them.  A couple of months ago (when I was up to my eyes and studying and feeling pretty jaded) I wrote a post about my grey hair (which I freely admit was definitely out of control).  Fed up with the thought of having to take out a second mortgage to meet the hairdresser’s bill I took the plunge and did it myself.  The results were OK, but what a blooming faff!

So I’ve been kinda pondering the idea of just being the colour I am – the real 45 year old me!

As I’ve been colouring my hair for as long as I can remember I really have no idea how much grey is there, but IT is definitely there.

Yellow is NOT a good colour for redheads

When I was younger I was a typical Scottish red haired girl with freckles – the freckles have remained but years of living abroad when I was growing up gradually lightened the colour.

It's official, Madonna ruined my hair

Then came the obligatory excursion into teenage dying crazes. However my years of being brave on the colour front are long since behind me. Frankly I don’t know if I want to carry on dying my hair.  The dilemma is will I be brave enough to just be the colour I am and can I stick with it to grow out the current colour?

So folks I’m sort of thinking that ‘my grey period‘ may be my next experiment.  Of course it would be great if I could just wave a magic wand and wake up grey and looking fabulous but what if what’s really under the current ‘fake’ colour of mine looks more like the mismatched colour you often see in the animal shelters being sported by loveable but kinda strange little dogs looking for a home?

The alternative of course is to keep colouring it and admit the fact that doing a ‘home job’ is probably not saving much money due to having to practically redecorate the bathroom every time.  So that folks is my dilemma.

Its easy Ladies, all you have to do is decide what colour you want to be, follow the 101 easy steps and voila neither your hair or your bathroom will ever be the same again.

Sure on the scheme of it this is hardly one of life’s BIG problems to ponder but it’s still a bit of a milestone in life – well it sort of is for this gal.

So if it’s true that every grey hair tells a story then I kinda want to know what story mine will tell.  Sometimes it’s good to sit down and write a list of pros and cons – it really only comes down to two things.

The pros – I figure are looking like this…

Now THIS I could live with

However the reality could also be something along these lines……

The Cons –  what if in reality I look like this- a patchy grey person?

Cute on a dog, but on a middle aged Scottish person I'm not so sure

So, have you taken the plunge?

Are you thinking about it?

Are you a ‘No Way Jose I’m Keeping My Colour’ person?

I guess it’s not something I have to do right now, but I am thinking about it.

All ‘encouragement’ / ‘don’t do it warnings’ welcome.

Telling stories in your head

Well my studies with the Open University (OU) commenced a couple of weeks ago however despite the good intentions there was no ‘commencing’ on my part – deciding instead to go on holiday and completely ignore the books.  I refuse to be stressed about it and will just apply myself to catching up.

I might look stressed, but I refuse to actually be stressed!

Part of the reason I’m not too stressed about my current study predicament is that over the summer, while I was waiting to get back to full on study, with a nudge from my husband I took a creative writing class.  Never done anything like that before and despite my anxiety I continued to turn up every Thursday and spend two hours feeling panic that I have nothing to write and surprising myself with what popped into my head.  Plus, to top it all, despite life being incredibly busy I even managed to turn up with my homework done each week(here’s hoping I can keep up this track record with the OU). This class enlightened me somewhat and I discovered that the process of writing, whatever I write, was a positive experience.  It has kept me focussed and instilled a discipline that I would have long since lost over the study free summer months.

One of the tasks our happy wee glass were given one week were two photographs, with no other instructions other than to write whatever these images prompted in our head. I was pleasantly surprised to find that this didn’t present itself  as a difficult task for me.  I’ve discovered that images are clearly something that click with me.  Of course I should have learned this as, when it comes to study, mind maps have come to be my thing.  I can store oodles of these in my head – far more than if I read over pages of notes.

Our wee creative writing class was by all accounts a fairly odd group (meant in the nicest possible way of course).  I was staggered, although I clearly shouldn’t have been, to discover how differently we all see and translate the world into our writing.  There was certainly no shortage of emotion shared and this was clearly a mark of how we gelled as a group. There was also much humour – even in the pieces that people wrote about the tough stuff in life.

And we all have interesting stories, don't we.....

Humour is really important to me.  My son and I share the same kind of humour.  I don’t know what label I would put on it, but my husband will frequently shake his head at our antics and banter (although I will confess to see his mouth turning up at the corners – so I think we’re winning him over).

Glasgow humour, you've just got to love it.

Anyhow these images and what they prompt within us brought to mind a photograph I took recently in Paris on a visit to the Pere Lachaise cemetery.  OK not a cheery place to visit, but I’d always wanted to go – so thats we did.

Now I wouldn’t call myself a photographer, but images stand out for me – this one particularly.

Pere Lachaise - July 2011

I think this is probably the saddest photograph I’ve ever seen.  I think one day maybe I’ll write about it.

I was just wondering though, what images speak to you and why?

A skip in my step…..

Our recent holiday is not yet a distant memory.  It was quite simply the best holiday I have ever had and I said as much to my husband.  It was the best holiday I have ever had I think because it was so badly needed.

A significant portion of our lives are allocated to our responsibilities as carers – we do this lovingly and willingly and I’m not blowing our own trumpet in saying that we are, like many other carers, a hidden workforce.  This hidden workforce provides care that is estimated as being valued at £119 billion per year – pretty staggering isn’t it.  As a carer if you are lucky enough to qualify for carers allowance this works out at 35p per hour – that’s a pretty staggering figure too – how many people do you know who would feel valued at being paid 35p per hour?

Importantly carers aren’t just people fulfilling a really necessary role they are individuals with the same hopes and dreams everybody has.  I think that if the government really want to help carers then they have to take account of the fact that they need to be asking not just how they can support people as carers but what can be done to support them as individuals whose choices are limited by their caring role.

So yes our holiday was vitally important and as respite services are severely limited for older adults our holiday was made possible by the help and support of two special ladies – Janette and Aileen.

Our Respite Angels

My sisters in law took it in turns to come and stay, ensuring that there mum got the care and support she needed and that we got a holiday.  Without their support it quite simply would not have been possible.   Thank you ladies.

The dictionary tells me that ‘respite’ is a short period of rest or relief and I can’t tell you how necessary that is.  We all need respite from the stuff of life but I’ve never valued this more than when I became a carer – and that folks is probably why this was the best holiday I have ever had.

So thanks to our two ‘Respite Angels’ my husband and I got the holiday that we needed, we chilled and spent two weeks just doing what we wanted.  Once again we had the joy of spontaneity in our days (something that doesn’t exist in the world of a carer) and we savoured every signal second of our break.

So our holiday hasn’t just given us happy memories of sunshine, it has also given us the physical and mental boost we need. We are back into our lives with a bit of a skip in our step. Now all I have to do is figure out how I can ensure that we keep skipping – any ideas?

 

 

What’s the time – what’s the time zone?

My alarm rang at 6.30am this morning catapulting me back into my life.

Spotted on a wall in a shopping mall in Florida

It seems my planning for my return was firmly routed in ‘the previous me’ – I arrived home last night (long haul flight) with the intention of starting work this morning.  I lay in bed feeling exhausted and jet lagged and feeling mad with myself for not giving myself the option of easing myself gently back into work.

My holiday was much needed.  I realised when I was away how stressed and tired I have been (for a long time) and made a mental note that things need to change or I will become ill.

Good advice eh!

As I’ve said before I’m a doer.  My life with work, studying, family and caring is all encompassing but even I had to admit while I was away that the realisation had hit me that the juggle wasn’t really working.  Dilemma, what to do?

Well I’ve thought long and hard about this because in all reality my responsibilities have not changed.  What I realised is that what needs to change is me.  So I’m trying.

On holiday I fully planned to get some studying done – in reality I didn’t open a book.  What was even more surprising is that I feel no stress in this at all.  Having a break from studying, despite the fact that my course has started was more important.  Therein lies the answer. You see if I am truly going to be able to keep my head above water then I know that I need to have some time off to catch my breath and so that is exactly what I am going to do.

I am going to be the kind of gal who schedules time out to not just smell the coffee, but to drink it too (sitting on the couch with my feet up eating cake with my husband).  I’m going to access the opportunity to delegate some of my work, because in reality there are things that can be taken forward by others.

Mr & Mrs MacLean cakes!

My son is always asking if he can cook dinner. I’m going to let him instead of forging ahead and doing it myself because I feel I have to.  I don’t feel I have to anymore and he loves to cook.

I am not going to break my back getting things done perfectly when good enough is OK too. Clearly there are things I need to strive to achieve, and I will, but I am going to enjoy a much more balanced process rather than just the achievements.

Standing on the beach in Miami looking with the warm water lapping at my feet and the salty wind in my face felt wonderful.  When I feel stressed I’m going to close my eyes and remember that wonderful feeling – then, when I open my eyes I’m going to take a deep breath and tackle the day differently.  Sound like a plan!

Me on Monday Morning - It may feel like a lifetime ago, but this feeling will stay with me - I hope!

So if any of you out there have any suggestions for this gal then I would be grateful for any tips to make me and my crazy life less crazy.