Moving forward

Ooops I am very sorry the holidays appear to have got in the way of my blogging. Been to Penrith and Farnborough near Banbury since I last wrote! I'm sorry sometimes I seem to get in the way of myself if that makes sense?


My last blog was about meeting my auntie who I had not seen since I was about 10. Sure enough some time back in August we all met up at the Tudor Rose for lunch. I had no idea what to expect. My cousin brought his family which we felt made it easier for me to slot in. It was almost my Aunties birthday so their focus was on her.


Funny thing is she has always been my Aunty Jean, I have never thought of her as anything else. I mean just as my cousins mum. And Uncle Raymond was always just that. I think he was a bit surprised when I asked him if it was ok to call him that, but he grinned and said of course I could.


In the end it was just a family outing with both my Aunty and Uncle reminiscing and telling tales that even my cousin had not heard before. There were no recriminations. I could so easily have asked why they had made no effort to see me in all those years. Then again, I had gone to college only two miles from where they lived and had never tried to see them so I suppose it was all pretty even in apathy or awkwardness.


As we walked back to our cars I was quite touched that she linked her arm in mine and could see she was genuinely moved at our meeting. I must admit I felt a kind of peace as if some of the parts of my life I always felt had not been filled, or had been left in limbo were being healed, pulled together. I;m not sure meeting my father would have the same effect, I think my Auntie was the one to pull together my roots.


Last week we met again, this time for me to show her some of my research into the tree. I took a load of photos of my brothers and children at different times so she could see how we had all grown up and also to spot the family likenesses. We talked about all the certificates I had purchased that revealed so much information about our ancestors. It seems the healing process was a two way street as my auntie read about the deaths of her parents finding answers to questions she had previously been unable to ask. 


When we start looking into our family history, we never know what we might conjure up or which myths we will dispel. I know that my journey has been a fascinating and very rewarding one. I'm not sure where the story will go next for me and my aunty, there are a lot of toes I have to be careful not to step on, but so far it has been a very positive experience and one I am glad I worked for.

Oh the embarrassment!

Yesterday we had a small family celebration of my son's 19th birthday. Which is actually today, but of course he wants to go out with his friends!


We had a lovely meal at the Spice Club in Moreton. I dont usually go there as my best pal Julia prefers the Surma which is a bit further down the road. However she was nearly put off by the water there who gave her back the knife she had used for her starter so she could use it for her main course - without cleaning it!


Anyway, I digress, as usual!


When the meal was over I called for the bill and my sister in law and I heckled over who should pay what. She said she would put in the money for the tip so the plate was filled with cash and off the chap went. 


Shortly after he came back and as he offered up our change, I said 'No its ok that's for you' He thanked me. It was only then that I realised that there was only ten pence on the plate (10p). My sister in law had the tip money in her hand! I was mortified! I'm still chuckling now!


I hate to think what he must have thought of us as we left. I pushed my SIL forward to hand him the tip and hurried out giggling. My children despair of me. But I don't think I will be changing soon!

Arguments

My brother has fallen out with me. its not the first time a brother has fallen out with me. I must be a really horrible person! No I am honestly you should smell my breath at the moment. We had a curry last night for my son's birthday, but that's another story!


I have three brothers. We are oddballs. Then again arn't most families full of oddballs? Isn't that what makes the world go round? We all suffer from depression in varying degrees. It stems from my father side of the family and it seems the black dog is continually plaguing one or other of us. its amazing we ever get together considering how many dark clouds hang over us.


I am not one for arguments, I hate raised voices and aggression. It stems from a few not nice things that happened in my life, but basically I do not cope well with people when they get animated in an angry way. That's me, my problem and usually I manage to steer clear of situations that might cause me to go into panic or shut down mode.


Unfortunately my younger brother took offence at something that was said on Facebook, or rather my failure to acknowledge that he was my brother. Its all very silly as he was in the wrong in the first place with a very aggressive and foul languaged post. However now he feels betrayed by me and as such has removed not just me, but my family from his facebook pages. Now I know that people do lots of silly things when they are angry and that they generally regret them afterwards, but his gripe was with me, not my friends and family and so his actions hurt. What was just a petty little comment seems to be turning into all out war and I don't like it. Its all so totally unnecessary. 


I thought the whole thing would blow over, but instead my mum has been upset, because of course she acts as the peacemaker. She doesn't need the agro. Noone does!


I'm a bit of a stubborn old soul. I don't really believe in apologising when I do not feel I have done anything wrong. However I have sent my brother a text apologising for the fact that he feels I have let him down. Its all so petty. I have enough problems in my life without having to cope with petty squabbles getting out of hand.


On the plus side, the sun is shining, I am getting some new posh Egyptian cotton bedding delivered shortly, and it's Friday which means Neil will be winging his way northwards in a few hours. Love and peace folks! Namaste x

me and my ipad forever

I know that money does not buy you happiness, but sometimes it can honest! This week I took possession of an ipad. Its wonderful. Its amazing. Its fanbloodytastic actually. I am so thrilled.


When i first got it I took it out of the box and did not dare to turn it on. I was scared I might do something wrong and break it before I had even got to see what it can do. I sat it next to me on the sofa and continued using my laptop. Actually I am still on my laptop. The one thing I have discovered about my fantabulous new toy is that it is not really suited to those of us who can touch type, or at least nearly touch type. well you know, use more than one or two fingers when we type!


I didn't really buy it to replace my laptop anyway. I do work and emails and stuff on it and the diddy 16 gigs of memory would not really go very far if I used it for anything more than a toy. But its soooo cool. Of course the first app I downloaded onto it was 'Talking Carl' this has to be the funniest app ever. Its a little red square thing with googly eyes and a big mouth. If you rub his tummy he giggles. If you poke him in the eye he says ow. If you talk to him he repeats everything you say in a higher voice. If you laugh he laughs. Its one of those totally addictive gizmos that has everyone laughing and having a go. Even Neil when he phoned me talked to Carl and heard his voice coming back at him. Cue much hilarity! When my friend Julia brought her friend Ali round Julia ended up singing Mama Mia just to hear Carl sing back. I tell you if you are ever stuck for something to say, then bring out talking Carl because he will have everyone giggling like loons. And if you are REALLY naughty  then yes Carl does repeat your swear words in a very high pitched voice too. I know so childish, but sooooo funny!


Second app I downloaded was a calculator. A jumbo one that fills the 9.7inch screen. It has jumbo buttons and great for when I am working as I don't have to squint at the little numbers on my usual calculator. Well of course, you spend a fortune just to have a jumbo calculator! I probably could have bought one for a fiver in Staples, but thats not the point. This is my coveted ipad. My gizmo. My wunder gadget!


The great thing about the ipad is that of course it is an ipod too and it has itunes. But more than that it has a built in speaker so that if, like me, you cant use ear phones, then you can still be part of the iclub and listen to music wherever you are. At the mo I have downloaded and am listening to Split Enz. Remember them? I Got You and all that? Ooooh its so exciting!


Before, the iworld had left me far behind, but now I'm right up there with the best of em. I has me an ipad and I loves it! If you are very nice to me I might let you have a play :-)


Oooh oooh and just before I go, let me tell you that I bought my ipad a skin. A pink skin! ha! So there! I would show you a picture of it, but I'm not too clever at this uploading malarky. Just imagine a little fat lady with a great big grin and a pink ipad.


Oh and of course money cant buy you love, not happiness, I am rubbish at remembering sayings! have a great weekend xxxx

All things family

While waiting for Neil to drive home last night I cast my eye over my family tree. I've been studying it on and off since 2003 and while we are not exactly a very exciting lot, its my family and I get a buzz out of doing it.

My maiden name is Priestman it is apparently German if family folklore is to be believed. My middle brother even found a family crest, although I think perhaps the American branches may have invented that!

My parents divorced when I was eight so although I knew my dad's mum, i never did know much about the family history, which is why it was great to investigate it. I never did finish off a lot of the rellies though, so last night I did some fevered research to discover when they all popped their clogs.

One good piece of news was that my Great grandfather Edward was 82 when he shuffled off this mortal coil. Unfortunately his son George William died young at only 57. Fortunately this is not a new trend, as my father will be 74 this birthday. His Great grandfather George was 75 when he died. I'm hoping for a little Priestman longevity!

The one thing I have found really frustrating is that I cannot always find my people on the census. We know they are meant to be there, but often it is in transcription that they get lost. Now as the Priestman's of my branch were from London, its not so easy to do a street by street search!

Edward Priestman was born in 1860 His mother has the quite groovy name of Elizabeth Mary Catling Mead. I can find her husband and two daughters on the 1861 census, but not her and her infant son. In 1871 I cant find any of them, but I did happen upon a ten year old Edward Priestman visiting a grocers. I wonder if he had been set to work as a delivery boy!

My biggest challenge is linking the London Priestman's to their many relatives up in the North East, as that's where the majority are in the 1800's One family tree has gone back to the 1600's but I am a long way off settling my leaves on those branches!

Still it is good fun, and even better when you have juicy gossip like I found when I did Neil's tree. Might share that with you another time :-)

Flags

If I may just put it on record, I love the flags that are currently adorning many houses round here. 


I drove down to RockFerry today to pick up my mum. She lives in a little side road and they have even strung bunting across the road between two houses. It looks almost like Christmas, but with lots of flags instead.


As I drove down the streets, house after house had flags outside. I passed one couple leaving their house, turning round, and grinning like loons at the enormous England flag they had hanging from their front window.


It makes me sad that the one time there is a huge display of patriotism is when our football team are playing. Wouldn't it be great if the same joy was shown on St Georges Day? What is wrong with being proud to be English? What can we do to make our National Day more of an event? And if people don't want that particular Day, then why not another day?


I love the way the Netherlands has a Queens Day. Why can't the Queen's Official birthday be the day chosen to wave our flags? Of course she is not just Queen of England so there could be the argument against using the St Georges Cross, but there must be some way of showing we are proud to be English.


Just have to hope England do well in the World Cup as then the flag of cheer will be around for a while!

Quandary

Ok so here is a question I need your help with.

Bought son a giant sized cricket bag for all his gear. He loves his cricket and has everything helmet, pads, gloves, crickets bats and all those other bits and bobs boys need :-) He said he needed a large bag, so between us we bought one and it cost £70. That was two weeks ago.

Today some of the year 10 boys thought it would be a great idea to empty out the bag and put one of their comrades in it. Probably hysterically funny at the time, but the problem is the escapade resulted in them ripping the bag. Its not unusable as it is a kind of internal pocket that has been ripped, but the rip is the full length of the bag and renders the large pocket useless.

I'm furious and feel the boys should be made to pay for a new bag. If it had been an old bag I'd have chalked it up to boyish foolery and left it, but this is a brand new bag.

So the question is, what do I do? Do I demand full payment? Do I demand part payment. Do I demand letters of apology? This is a private school we are talking about, not some yob factory.

Would welcome your views

Love?

A poem written by a friend I knew only as Rialtos. He was in his seventies at the time and that was some 13 years ago so I would imagine he is no longer with us. His words however can last forever if we let them. Course we might not agree with him :-)

Love is a loosely used

four letter word.

I learned that from a woman.

Odd in a way, since they 

think they hold the patent

and men don't know the

first thing about it.

I love you, she said...

over and over until 

I finally realized she

didn't love me, but the

idea of being in love.

A common female

fallacy, I'd say.

Love me loving you --

that was the gist.

So who knows the least

about love, men or women?

Men may be ignorant,

but they're not confused.

That's why we keep our 

mouths shut when it

comes to love.

Epilogue

As an epilogue to my last post....


Firstly I know I am not alone. Its good when other parents actually mention their own teenager problems. In this 'lack of respect' society we seem to live in these days I'm not the only one trying my best and feeling so frustrated at the way I am spoken to, ignored etc etc


I was amused and bolstered by something I read in one of Shirley Wells' books yesterday:


'Teenagers have to rebel,' Jill went on softly. 'it's natures way of preparing them for flying the nest.' She smiled 'And the way they turn into monsters - well that's nature's way of making sure the parents are happy for them to fly.' (A Darker Side p153)


Makes sense to me, thanks Shirley!

Being tired

I'm tired and grumpy and not much fun to be with at the moment. You know when you try and reason with people but it gets you nowhere? I'm tired of the constant battle with my children. They don't tell you these things in the baby books. They don't tell you that if you are indulgent, if you give in to your children's every whim, that in the end they will turn round and bight you. I suppose I should have worked that one out for myself I just made the fatal flaw of wanting to give my children all the things that I never had as a child. But the fact is, that the things I never had were material. As a child there was an abundance of love and understanding which made me the person I am today. I wish I had worked that one out sooner!

The thing is, my boys are not rebels, they are not tearaways. they have good manners, they know how to behave when we are out, they are polite and courteous to others. Is it my fault they do not respect me? Is it the fault of family influences beyond my control? Is it just part of the Juveniles Code that they must make life as difficult as possible for the significant adults in their lives?

I am so lucky, my boys do not have illnesses, they do not have disabilities. Ok there have been a few problems along the way, Tom's dyspraxia caused a lot of problems when he was younger but we have worked our way through all of that. I was even lucky enough that we had the money to send both boys to Private School when it became apparent that state schools were not helping them.

Is it just that I am ineffectual as a human being? There are times when I am so strong, so driven. I have succeeded. I don't mean just having good days, I mean weeks, months. I ran a website that had hundreds of thousands of hits. I acted as mentor on a dieting site. I was fan of the year for my local football team. I learnt how to do the books for the family business, to do the payroll, to use a computer, to give advice on plants and gardening. I studied local history and even through my depression, failing health and divorce, and managed to come away with a certificate to show me that I can achieve.

If I can do these things, if I can succeed, then why can I not be the mother I should be. I've never liked confrontation, I don't like arguments. Is this roller coaster ride just par for the course? Am I getting off lightly in comparison to other parents? Are my expectations too high?

I'm tired. It just seems that every day there is something else. And if its not my boys, then my ex is always there to dig the knives in further. If one of the children does something wrong, why is it me that gets shouted at. When will I ever find the voice to say enough is enough? When will I learn to press 'end call' on the phone if I am at the receiving end of another rant? When will I stop the boys mid track and just walk away if they talk to me with the lack of respect they have been showing?

I'm tired because I don't sleep because my head is full of stuff as I try to cope with the tospy turvey world that is my life and I suppose my ability to make a drama out of a crisis. Perhaps I should call for Supernanny to set me straight!

Nothing

You know nothing of love, he said

You know nothing of a broken heart

You know nothing of the pain that I have felt

You could not even begin to start

So he took in his hands my soul

He moulded it in his fashion

He drowned it in everlasting love,

Taught of unbridled passion.

But then his hands like a vice became

Squeezing it tight til I screamed

What must I do? Must I suffer too?

You destroy everything that I dreamed.

My soul when wrung out, hung limp in his hands 

As empty as I had become

Are you happy now? I asked through my tears

Surveying what he had done.

He cried out in anguish Oh now I can see

In my anger and hate, how wrong could I be?

Your beauty and love I had no right to doubt

Your pain is as true as the pain deep in me

But it was too late,the damage was done

My heart crying out to an empty soul

My love could have been the answer for him

So strong to once more make him whole

But by his hands he destroyed the thing that could help, 

A warm loving soul  so readily given 

A time and a space to share and to be

A love in an earth bound heaven

I know about love I shout to the stars

I know about a broken heart

I know about the pain, we have felt and shared

You taught me so well in the art.

A spot of afternoon tea

There is something very civilised about afternoon tea. It reminds me of years gone by and all the teas my Granny made for us. She was a fantastic cook and delighted our taste buds day after day. Cakes, puddings, biscuits, my Granny would make them all. Old recipes new recipes she had cookery books galore and was always on the look out for something new to try.


She had big strong arms and would beat cakes into submission. her orange tray bake was to die for. Those special Savoy cakes were heavenly......oh let me tell you about them. Fatless sponge turned into absolute decadence. She would make the sponge mix and then pour into individual pie trays. You know the sort that have 12 spaces on the tray but are rounded rather than the squarer holes for cake cases. When the little sponges were turned out and cooled, she would cover the top of one dome with chocolate, then she would join two domes together, one naked, one chocolate covered with lashings of whipped cream. My afternoon delight to be sure!


Brandy Alexander, that was another treat. Yes just like the cocktail! It had a crunchy chocolate base and then this wonderful thick creamy mix on top. Ohhhh I remember a naughty tale about the blessed Brandy Alexander! I had a party and she helped me to cater for it. Pride of place was the Brandy Alexander Pie. Her morning room had a Parkray fire. You know the kind of coal burning fire that has a door? Oh no that wasn't the Pie, that was the butter. Same party though, the lads thought it would be clever to put the butter on the fire and see what happened! Eighteen year olds can be such morons! 


The pie had another fate altogether. Perhaps the party goers were not as into Brandy Alexander as me or my Granny. And I remember now that I did not know this until sometime after, when my uncle remarked that there were some odd stains on the ceiling. I kept quiet and did not say a word, but I knew. You only had to look a little closer to see that the stains were a pale orangey brown colour and if you had sniffed them you might have had a scent of brandy. 


Anyway this afternoon I took a friend of mine to Cromwell's Restaurant in Irby because they have just started serving afternoon tea. They even have those lovely old fashioned cake stands to serve your goodies on. So my treat to myself was tuna and cucumber sandwiches followed by a wonderful chocolate muffin with naughty cream, and a chocolate brownie. Not strictly off the menu, but Kay and Kate are very kind ladies and eager to spoil their customers!


http://www.cromwells-irby.co.uk/menus/

Now that's a linkybob to their web page. Not much use for Clive in South Africa or Paul in California but for everyone else, definitely worth visiting :-) The restaurant that is not the website, although its a very nice website too. 

One they made earlier!

Afternoon tea at Cromwell's and a trigger for some lovely memories of my Granny and her wonderful cooking. Will take another visit to granny's kitchen some other time, you see there is a wonderful rhubarb fool, not to mention her batter pudding!

But on the bright side.....

Because there has to be a bright side


While I was on my own in Hemel Hempstead (see previous epic blog!) I read a sizable chunk of a book by a 'new to me' author Shirley Wells. Actually she is following this blog which is very kind of her. I met her on Twitter and as I have been trying out various new authors thought I would give her books a whirl.


The book is 'Into The Shadows' and it says on the blurb, Introducing forensic psychologist Jill Kennedy and DCI Max Trentham. Now this is right up my street. TV wise I love programmes like Criminal Minds and Cold Case, not to mention Bones oh and of course Midsommer Murders! Book wise I am a big fan of Patricia Cornwall and James Patterson.


The book is set in the Northwest and our heroine is in search of a serial killer known as 'Valentine' Its very readable and has me well sucked in trying to workout who dunnit. I read it all through my dinner last night and on into the night as England feebly fought off the Mexicans. 


Now call me a little OCD, but I actually bought four books by Shirley on Amazon the other week, so I have plenty to get through. Then again I'm off to Centre Parcs next week :-)

An eventful trip :-(

I am shattered. Its not that I have done very much, I just feel like I have!

To start at the beginning, my ex 'paid' (I use that term loosely as you will see) for my sons and a friend to go to see the England Mexico match at Wembley last night. Because it was an evening kick off it was decided that the boys would stay over in a hotel down there to save a late night journey home. This of course meant two rooms and the sudden need of a responsible adult to look after my younger son while the two older boys had a drink or two after the match. All eyes turn to mum, or is that muggins? Well naturally I can think of nothing better than to give up two days of my life to drive down to Hemel Hempstead to spend the night in a hotel room while they toddled off to Wembley!

But that's the daft kind of thing us mums do!

So the four of us crammed into Ben's Renault Clio because he insisted on driving. I didn't really mind as the trip was about 197 miles, but the arguments started when Tom did not want to sit in the back because there was not enough legroom, and so to keep the peace my seat was shoved right forward giving me precious little legroom. Now those who know me well know that my legs do not travel well as my circulation is not too hot and I've had one DVT already, but there I sat crammed into the little car for our pilgrimage to the revered stadium.

Being a kind mother I offered to pay for the petrol on the way down there. Little did I know he was about to put super unleaded in. £54 poorer we set off! Actually Ben is not such a bad driver after all, and on the way down he did managed to stay under 80mph for the majority of the journey, with our only conflict coming as I struggled to help the sat nav find its voice. Well is it my fault that his is inbuilt and comes with a remote that needs a first class degree in electronics to understand!

Long story cut short the boys caught a taxi from the hotel to Watford Junction as Ben decided he did not want to try and manoeuvre his car through the rush hour traffic. Of course muggins once again delved into her purse to hand over cash to facilitate this (probably sensible) move. But then it all went wrong, as Ben discovered his cash card was not working so he had to borrow money from Tom, who didn't get any food because he went at half time and the (non English speaking) servers took so long he was turned away as the match kicked off again, but not before he missed Johnson's stunning goal.

After the game Ben frogmarched Tom back to the station passing countless food kiosks without stopping and refused to stop so Tom could buy a scarf to celebrate the match. This meant that at 11pm when Tom came through the bedroom door he had had no food since lunch and of course the Premier Lodge had long since finished serving food. So dear old mum copped for the lot, the anger the frustration, the tirade of abuse meant for his brother, the regret for coming to the match in the first place, All the  'never again' s. The refusal to obtain nibbles from a vending machine in the foyer. It was all my fault!

I hate that feeling of not being good enough. Both my boys make me feel that way. It does not matter what time I give up for them, what I do, what I pay. Nothing is ever good enough. Nothing ever gets that 'thanks mum' Thanks for giving up your time. Thanks for sitting in the car for 3 1/2 hours while your ankles swell like footballs til you can barely walk. Thanks for waiting in the hotel for six hours on your own, and enduring the ribald abuse when you walked through the hotel bar and into the restaurant.....and the looks on the way back. Not paranoia believe me! Thanks mum for sitting waiting for us to come back and sorry for not answering the phone when you called, or answering your text to check all was ok even after we had phoned to say you might have to meet us to pay for the taxi on the way back...

Now you might think that was enough for one trip, but no! You see I snore! Apparently I snore very loudly. I snore so loudly that Tom wanted to kill himself to get away from me. So I lay awake for ages hardly daring to breath for risk of offending my son who now I think of it, reminds me of his father in the way he undervalues and belittles me.

And so this morning I woke after very little sleep to take my boys and friend down to breakfast which of course I paid for. Tom proceeded to be sick and returned to the room swiftly. Ben then wished to return and tutted when I asked for him to wait while I finished my coffee as I did not have a key to operate the lift. He suggested I use the stairs. Cheers.

Journey back was uneventful. Of course I paid for an early lunch for the three boys. They then sat in burger king while I had my coffee elsewhere. I had thought we could sit outside and enjoy the lovely day out by the ornamental pond with the ducks wandering round. But no, they thought I should have brought my tray to them to the dingy cafe burger bit. Mmmmm lovely! So I sat and drank my coffee alone before finding them near the toilets.

And here we are, home again. My ankles are hugely swollen, I'm totally shattered and wondering just why I gave up my time for two ungrateful children. Oh make that three, the friend did not even thank me.

Harumph!

Like Bees To Honey and more

I should be going to Caroline Smailes' book launch of Like Bees to Honey today, but unfortunately I am suffering from a nasty throat virus. Normally I would struggle onwards, but a) I am totally wiped out, and b) I would hate to pass on my germs to Caroline as she embarks on an exciting month promoting her book.

I met Caroline on Twitter. I was intrigued by the surname as there is a chap by the same name in my Tranmere circle. I asked, and yes sure enough my fellow white is her hubby. Small world! I was also intrigued by her links to Malta, as this island has become one of my favourite places to visit. I've been four times so far, twice in the last eight months! I find it both magical and mysterious and am excited to read Caroline's new book as it is set in Malta so who knows what else I may learn.

I have read two of Caroline's books already. In Search of Adam, and Black Boxes. I found them quite harrowing and distressing, and yet I was compelled to read both. I found that they both had elements that echoed parts of my own life, my struggles with depression and life itself. I found both books took me on a journey into both the character's and my own life. Both were very well written and the style was unlike anything I had encountered before. I would recommend both but with the warning that they do make for uncomfortable reading and most definitely not 'holiday' books.

And so to 'Like Bees' Caroline is launching the book at Waterstones, Liverpool One this evening. But in duet with this, the whole book has been serialised over the internet. I've read three chapters so far, and will probably read more but I think I would rather wait til I have the lovely new book in my hands next week. (I have pre-ordered it from Amazon) Visit http://www.carolinesmailes.co.uk/blog to begin the treasure trail that is 'Like Bees To Honey'

Good luck to Caroline, both this evening, and for the other events planned. So disappointed not to be there.

Just for a moment...........

Just for a moment

you caught me unawares

the softness of your words

took my breath away

Just for a moment

my guard was down

you found my naked soul

and caressed it

Just for a moment

my mind was opened

as you breathed the suggestion

that warmed me deep inside

Just for a moment

I revealed myself

so you took me to a place

that inspired me

Just for a moment

you filled me with your being

and my body sang

the music you created.

Be kind rewind.......

An old school mate got in touch recently. I remembered her which is a start, but that was about all really. i don't know if my depression is what has wiped my memory slate almost clean or my school  days were just so totally unmemorable, but I found myself feeling incredibly guilty for not remembering anything other than the girl's name and the fact she had great hair.

 

I have not been to any school reunions, or college for that matter. I am barely in touch with anyone from my past. There are a few tenuous links, but in reality the only people who remember me are my family. I understand now more fully my mums sadness as one by one older family members and friends passed away. Eventually there will be noone there to remember her when she was younger. Noone to share memories with, those sessions that start 'remember when....'

 

Recently I have been in touch with an old male friend. He knew me when I was 16 he remembers the spirited me, the ethereal me. the me before husbands and children. The time of drunken nights , dancing in friends garages, waking up together in parents beds well actually his parents, but honestly nothing happened. I remember his hangover afterwards. The way he never looked at me once as he and his mates packed up their golf clubs and disappeared off for the day and I made my excuses and took that long walk home to the inevitable questions. Actually I'm not sure he would want to reminisce all of that and I'm not entirely sure that Neil my OH would be particularly understanding. But these are things I did in my past, things that are in danger of being lost forever because I just don't remember any more.

 

I don't even remember my children as babies. The other day I pulled out my photo box and sat and looked at all of them. It made me cry. All the memories flooding back. moments I had completely forgotten about. Are you like that? Is it that my mind is just totally gone or in our busy lives do we just not have time to fit everything into our minds, so that our current activities just serve to blot out the past? Data overwrite or something? Definitely some kind of system failure!

 

If I don't remember you, or something we have done together, forgive me. I am trying but i think I have the wrong disc in my floppy drive!

Songs For A Lost Love

1.

All I did was need you
All I did was want you
All I did was love you
Why was that so wrong?

All I did was give you
All my hope and dreams too
All I did was love you
Why was that so wrong?

2.

Laughter in the rain
Sunday morning loving
You took away the pain
Your heart there for the having

Sunshine in your eyes
Wind between your leaves
Branches held me close
Protect me from the breeze

Storm clouds gathered over head,
Tempest broke you free
Tore up the roots that held you fast
Took you away from me.

3.

My arms reach out
But you're not there
An empty space
That once was yours

4.

They say time heals
And so I wait
The days turn into weeks

The clock ticks on
Its weary way
And yet nobody speaks

Of the love I held  
so dear and true
Of the long dark hours
I wait for you

Of a soul that cries out in despair
For a love who is no longer there

Suicide

The milkman, early morning

Left the bottles at the door

The postman bright and breezy 

With that plop upon the floor

The curtains never fluttered

But stayed close, shut together

And noone knew the lady

Had chose to sleep forever

Much later as the binman passed

Ignored the bin not by the gate

And work phoned every hour

She wasn't usually  this late

At dusk the cat out on patrol

Returned home, pushing through the flap

Found his mistress sleeping still

Sat purring on her rigid lap

Next day the milkman on his round

Finding the past days milk still there

Raised the alarm and stood close by

With neighbours coming out to stare

The empty bottle, pills askew

That vacant look upon her face

And now noone would ever know 

Just why she couldn't stand the pace

That photo held tight in her hand

A romance spent, a Summers end

What a loss, a waste of life

A broken heart she couldn't mend

All the things........

All the things you never said

Spinning round inside my head

All the times you were not there

Such a heavy heart to bear

Chances lost and gone forever

In your land of never never

Reaching out to an empty space

Fading memory of your face

The special moments we never had

All the times you made me sad

Dry my tears, its done you're gone

I see that you were not the one.

Bloggin'

I wasn't going to do just poetry but as soon as I made the site I ran out of things to say! Now if you know me you know that's really not true at all as I ALWAYS have things to say and yet suddenly I felt a bit pressure. Again rather daft considering I actually only have six very kind people following me at the moment. Must work on this one!


Anyway, the poetry is a cheat, I've only written one set of poetry in the last few years, and that was one night late when I could not sleep so I just turned the light back on and opened my mind. Four pages later I have still not gone back to edit, although I did let OH have a read. I may bravely go back there and have a look at some point!


The poems here have been written over a span of about thirty years! That's quite a scary though I still cannot believe I am in my mid forties. I've not really finished with my twenties yet. I've always had a lot of emotion inside me. Too many thoughts bubbling round and round. when I was at college I wrote under the pen name Barbara Owen Jones and had a number of pieces published in the college mag. Quite ironic therefore when I actually married a Jones although I could not get him to add the Owen part to our name. I suppose I could have made the name mine when I divorced him but I think that Barbara McGinlay has a lovely ring to it. I know at least one person who agrees with me!


I got my first personal computer (not counting my ZX81) back in 1996. I had a six month old baby and a desire to see what was out in the world without having to leave my living room. is it possible to be a gregarious sociaphobe? That's me. I love to communicate (oh really I hear you say) but I always prefer to be in my own little safety zone! I renamed myself 'Hazel Sometimes' and began to put my poetry on the net. I was joined by a number of others from both here in England and also America. I was the younger writer at 30 while 'Rialtos' was over 70. I suppose I would call that my poetry period. My life you see is full of phases. You might call them obsessions, but I'll share that another day!


So here we are at the latest incarnation and now I have actually managed to write something down, who knows what might happen! Watch this space as they say!

Just to let you know ......

1.

If  I had the chance

all over

I 

wouldn't 

want 

it 

any 

other 

way

2.

The words we choose

may damn us

perhaps 

silence 

really 

is 

golden.

3.

I 

  love 

        you,

  love

me

4.

I suddenly felt 

So tired

So old

So lost

So cold

No you 

For me

No love 

To be

No tears

No laughter

No Happy

Ever after

5.

No open arms

No smiling charms

An empty space 

A darkened place