Freudian Slips the Butt of All jokes?

Today my parents arrive, mixed blessings all round and a fair amount of juggling going on. First there are the three generations to contend with, there is also Kev who finds any invasion of his space traumatic but is particularly tricky as my parents views are aired without our reality or forethought. Time for them is their own, for us it is in very short supply as Kev, who only gets a week off at Christmas (just to clarify that only a week in a whole year) it is a precious commodity.

            For me it is when families are at their worst and at their best. My dad is full of sayings that he has made up which are full of the truths of life. Many years ago he uttered one such truth that has bounced back in my mind many times since “Humans are solitary pack animals, neither happy living together or apart”. I love my dad!

            Humans love a get together but also need their individual space. I know there are a lot of communities that get along in communal huts but I bet you that they all have reflective time. Contemplation gives us perspective which can lead to empathy. But not all of us get to the empathy stage, this can be bad but it also can be very funny as most humour starts with an individual’s lack of understanding of the world outside their own little bubble.

            We all live in a bubble of our own understanding of how the world and the people in it should behave. Some people have very funny ideas indeed or at the very least quirky. It’s this quirkiness my dad taught me to play with and Kev can look at a person and very quickly ascertain their idiosyncrasies, it was one thing that attracted him to me in the first place. Now our children have also picked up the rudimentary skills of looking at personalities and mannerisms with a comic twist. My mum finds my dad and me very irritating but my husband and children are in her eyes very amusing.

            So this evening as we sit around playing cards (I hope) we will in the Alderman tradition be taking ‘Freudian slips’ twisting them a little and laughing at the outcome. With the tutts my mum will undoubtedly give me and my dad adding to the pleasure. The little sniggers and great big belly laughs will be sounding out this year and ringing in the New Year I hope.

WARNING

Always handle the ‘butt of your jokes’ with care and love and if you are the butt for a while, laugh with them and like cramp it will abate. You never know you may be able to laugh at your self and that’s not a bad thing.

Slamiming in the Ham 2011

Finally the needles have been pulled out of my eyes and the cotton wool that clogged up my brain has now been replaced with their usual fluffy clouds. I did indeed miss all the fun but I was there for the cooking of the turkey; that by all accounts tasted lovely.

This slower pace of life suits me just fine though as I feel less guilty about doing nothing in particular. The only regret truly I haveis that I haven’t been able to write, I miss writing :-( So here I sit with my boys doing their best cleaning the lounge impression while fighting, my daughter is picking what to

weare and I’m enjoying writing to you all, a perfect start to the day.

I have prepared all I can for when our guests arrive in a couple of hours when the ceremony of SLAMING IN THE HAM! will take place, I love the Christmas meals. After the turkey and all the trimmings comes the bubble and squeak on boxing day; for those of you who are not familiar with this meal, you take the cold mash from the day before (if your husband has not tried to dish them all out, Kev is very partial to mash) with the brussels and sweet chestnuts that take on a whole new taste when browned to that lovely golden crunchy brown add a fried egg making it a perfect and easy meal. I make the basis of a soup too from the turkey at the same time boil the ham leaving the next day relativly free. When I do 'slam in the ham' I only have to baste the joint in what ever recipe I fancy adapting it to my liking (for any one that is remotly interested this year it consisted of brown sugar, mutard, mango chutney and honey) adding a baked potato, salad a few friends and frolics and you have the one of Tilly Days of Christmas x

What are you up too and what is the best meal for you over this festive time

Happy Christmas

Recently I’ve been helping a friend come to terms with many events in her life the main one being the loss of her mum. We did this through a shot story I wrote changing it as she worked through the feelings and thoughts she had along the way. She had been her mother’s carer through the short illness that took her mother away bit by bit. Traumatic events that have life changing consequences that are either good or bad that need to be worked with to try to make sense of.

All through this process she had said how my words have helped, making peace in her heart. I gave her strength of mind she tells me, that the way I write puts things in a perspective that she had never thought of before. In reality it is the way she reads with that beautiful mind of hers and thinking that gives my writing its sparkle.

Through life we can become craggy and gnarled as we grow older but understanding and enlightenment can be a shining light on our minds true beauty, if we take the time to look through the differing angles. On her fortieth birthday I gave her a rock, inside of which had a beautiful array of amethyst crystals. Minds, thoughts, time, writing and reading for me all represent the beauty in that rock.

I never really had many books when I was growing up and on a trip to Shakespeare’s home I picked up a little green book that shone a perspective on my life that sheds shards of light on my thinking, it was called ‘A Shakespeare Treasury’ where sonnets 30 (Memory) and 60 (Time) sit side by side. The contents of this book were selected by Levi Fox (if you look him up on Wikipedia you will see what an extraordinary man he was) how clever of him, it is in my opinion a very well thought out approach to Shakespears work and life in general.

Somewhere in the reading of these two sonnets I mixed them up and come up with

As waves hasten to the pebbled shore

Old woes new wail my dear time’s waste.

No wonder they put me in the bottom set for everything at school, what a confuddled brain I have. However for me these words that have never been placed together held tight my belief that you should acknowledge old woes and wail a little for things that could have been but remember to make time in your memory to hold onto the now looking at from the perspective that makes you smile.

Her are the two sonnets

Memory

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.

Time

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

So as we come to Christmas Eve when the festivities are about to kick off, or have kicked off in the wrong direction, hang onto Shakespeare’s sentiments-that is to say hold onto those moments that count, release those that cause pain then “dear friend, all losses are restored and sorrows end”

With seasonal love

Who is Father Christmas and Where do Fairies come from?

In-between ordering turkey and all the extras that go with it and doing my father Christmas stunt and I have to be honest I failed, (no not the turkey or though that may well be a failure come Christmas day depending if I’m floating my boat on Champagne, here’s hoping J) Nope it is much more serious my little boy wants a Batman Carve (and who wouldn’t?) And there is not one to be had L Well Amazon has one for £170 plus, normal price £45.

Now how do I go about telling him there is no Father Christmas and he just has mummy and she’s Pants!!!

I wrote a Children’s story that the agents thought was too sweet for the public. I however thought it was a great way of explaining how magicl people can be if a large dose of love is applied.

When I was little and my mum was tucking me up in bed, I would ask her-

“Mum, where do fairies come from?”

She would answer with a smile.

“They come from your heart Sweet Thing. When you are happy they pop out to spread a little of their magic all around us”.

“One day will I see them?”

“Perhaps you could Sweet Thing. They hide their shoes in nettles that don’t sting, and in the summer they sleep in dandelion clocks all snugly and warm, for you to make wishes upon?”

“How do I make wishes mum?”

“Blow the dandelion clocks gently Sweet Thing. Then the fairies wake up and make the seeds dance your wishes to the fairy princess.”

“Will the fairy princess make all my wishes come true?”

“Not all of them Sweet Thing, only the ones that will look after you and make your heart happy enough for you to sing.”

“Mum, do I have to blow them all?”

“Oh no! Sweet Thing, otherwise the fairies won’t have a place to sleep in.”

What happens when the dandelion clocks have all gone, and winter is here?”

“Oh, they run back to you and curl up in your heart Sweet Thing. It keeps them warm and gives you a happy magic to get through the cold and dark days of winter.”

“When will they pop out of my heart again?”

“In the light of spring sweet thing when you get full of the joys and the flowers are here to brighten up our days.”

“Do they leave my heart for good then?”

“Oh no! Sweet Thing. They don’t leave your heart for good, they just go to be free with the birds, butterflies and honey bees.”

“Why do the fairies go to be free?”

“To top up their magic Sweet Thing. When the sun shines and warms your heart right through and a smile is on your face, the sun then shines on the fairies and gives back the magic power the winter took away from them.”

“Where do they go, when they are waiting for the dandelion clocks?”

“They fly on the backs of butterflies Sweet Thing, and curl up warm with the honey bees, while they wait for the dandelion clocks to arrive.”

“Do you believe in fairies Mum?”

“Yes, I believe in fairies Sweet Thing. Every time you smile, I can see the fairies have been hard at work, spreading their magic.”

I would lay down my head and my mum would softly sing.

“Oh! My Sweet-sweet thing

How I love you so

From your fingertips

Right down to the tip of your toes

And do you suppose

The fairies know

How much I love you so?

Then I would close my eyes, with a smile on my face and dream of flying with fairies on the backs of butterflies

So we are the magic x

 As you rush around and about remember your loved ones smile and take a bit of Tilly magic with my love x

© Tina Rodwell

Flambéed figs anyone?

Well Tilly’s balls have grown to the size of shrivelled up plums! I received my very first critic. It was a fair and honest one, off someone who does not read chick lit or romance. He could take no more after one and a half chapters as the girly conversation just got too much for him. Kevin said he could see his point.

Now I intend to pump them up to the size of ripe figs and I need your help to keep them safe. I need to sew a pair of flame resistant under-garments and with the threads you pass me I know we can weave a very fine pair. How? I hear you ponder. Well by adding a picture to my followers section (at the moments I have one friend and my self following me and I find this slightly sad). If I had a few friendly smiles, cute fluffy critters and anything else you can think of I would be very grateful and fire proofed.

Writing comments or ticking boxes helps too; it lets me know what I have got right and where I’m going wrong both are equally important to being a good writer.

Hurry up and follow or the fairy gets frazzled under-garments.

Right now where did I put those matches?

Flambéed figs anyone?

Who has the Best Communication Skills

Tink, my three year old Norfolk terrier cross, had been intently looking into my eyes trying hard to tell me what was wrong. How do I know this? I just do a hundred little detailed signs that we use without thinking, shout out to me and let me know she is poorly and in pain.

Researchers and scientists say us humans are the only ones to have complicated speech and in-depth reasoning and I wonder who comes up with these ideas. That sort of lack of understanding and arrogance has led us into trouble and has stopped us from finding a multitude of things from nature. She may think a little differently that does not mean to say she is wrong and I should not listen to her.

Humans have speech because we have simply evolved that way. But we do not all use the same language. Even after many years evolving still some of us do not communicate very well, even with the power of our vocal cords. Animals are no different from us, in that some are ordinary and some are extraordinary.

If a person is bereft of human contact from birth they no longer have the ability or inclination of speech and find other ways of communicating. It does not mean they have a lesser capacity for reasoning, empathy or learning it just means they used other skills to survive. It may also mean they are very happy just the way they are. So looking on the matter from that view point, I assume speech is a learnt behaviour rather than a unique ability. Every animal on the planet communicates by sense of smell, posture, eyes, and facial expressions. Silent communicators such as the deaf have been ignored or labelled as retarded by the hearing, simply because we do not understand their voice. Is it the others fault we cannot understand their communicating rituals?

Many years ago I watched a program about a man that had spent many months interacting with dolphins. He made friends and had a close bond with a particular young one in the pod. On the day he was due to leave a storm blew up and the man became worried over the safety of this young dolphin.

Now I thought, let me get this straight, he thinks these sea mammals, whose families have lived in the sea for generations, who could communicate by radar clicks, snorts and body posture with possibly a whole spectrum of other ways of communicating and learning we are not aware of and this man assumed they didn’t know or communicate with each other about their own environment? The man was loving and caring and in his field a leading scientist, a very clever man but also very stupid.

He talked in raptures about his concern for this poor animal that could be torn to shreds on rocks in the storm and if this land mammal didn’t rescue him would be sure to perish. Many times he got hold of that young dolphins fin to lead him to safety. Eventually he listened to the dolphin who took him to his pleasure park of water currants that acted like theme park slides. The sea mammal gave the land mammal a marvellous time. Exhilarated over his experience he verbally expressed his shear delight. The dolphin no doubt bemused, swam away. This has always amused me and shown me how arrogant our naivety can be.

With foreign people we just shout at them thinking this will help or speaking very slowly distorting the words sounds that they do not recognise all in a vein hope that this will help. It has been scientifically proven that we look at people’s demeanour and facial expressions but we are not aware of it. Animals are far better at this then us so who really has more communication skills?

If we cannot understand their language how can we be sure their language is not as complex as humans? Take the whales they communicate over miles and with different pods. How do we know they are not talking about the weather or the smith pod’s children that are out of control and taking more than their fair share of plankton?

We put animals through tests of our reasoning and forget to explain why or why they should be bothered. Would we perform these tasks to aliens of higher intelligence? I am assuming they would have a higher intelligence as they got here first, but I could be wrong. It could be that they hit on a quicker way to travel sooner than us but are of the same average IQ.

Let’s face it some people in our world use a tree trunk canoe and have a full and happy life even more so than a scientist on a fully equipped power boat, possibly with a higher IQ too. If we bumped into the man in his tree trunk canoe and took our time and listen to him, we would no doubt learn a thing or two.  

I listened to Tink and took her to the vets and she has just had her second operation to remove a follicle cyst. She is feeling much happier and has just dropped a ball on my foot, her daughter looked at us both and seising the opportunity, picked up her fluffy toy and flung it in the air, I guess its playtime.

Yes Tink I'm now going to play, she wonders over to the door, 'Oh you want to go out?' she sits on the floor 'Oh a Walk?' I get a waggy tail. Walk it is then she jumps up and liks me.

Squeeze Up There Is Room For More, NOT!

Tilly on Her Soap Box About Suffolk Primary Schools

As I was making the pack up this morning I was listening to radio fours ‘Yesterday in parliament’ program, when I did a double take see what you think '80,000 separate plots of public land have been earmarked to build first time buyers houses to kick start the building market?'

So what do you think? I know Bacton middle school has building permission? Is this the real reason they are going to get rid of the three tier system here in Suffolk? Are we going to cram our children in like sardines, taking all their facilities away to get this country out of a banker’s recession or am I the only one that has made this connection?

I had my day planed to the last second as usual but intended to write a blog as soon as I had the time. But dropped everything to write a quick thought down to see what you all made of it.

Now I was in a real flap as I couldn’t find the one piece of paper that I needed the one with the tickets for Angus’s pantomime. We are only allowed three seats each family for grandparents, brothers, sisters etc. so my husband or I will have to forfeit seeing the production. Space you see is at a premium not that you can see the children anyhow as they squeeze them on a small block stage about a meter wide and we sit on small seats and I for one can not see over or around the people who sit in front.

I only got to see a glimpse of Angus last year once and he spent the whole of the performance looking for me. It is a very sad occasion that should be one you treasure and reflectively smile at.

Twenty years ago I lost twins separately at this time of year and as the nativities took place on the morning breakfast shows I longed for that experience. So when after much heartbreak I held my first child in my arms, I looked forward to the nativities at school. But they don’t do Nativities at our school. Everyone works so hard to make the best of it but it hurts when you just cannot see the results. They are going to squeeze more into our little Suffolk primary schools and I’m not sure what will happen then.

It makes me deflated and despondent, why and how can I teach my children values when the Government lie and constantly support those at the top of the pyramid society we have? Us at the bottom are already under a heavy burden from a lucky few whose prosperity is more than self indulgent?

Now off to find blue bird wings for Angus knowing I will probably have to make some, I will put my heart and soul into it and my heart will break because I won’t be able to see him in all his slender.

A very Sad

And Finally

Tilly has grown a Pair of Male Appendages!

It’s just a pity they are the size of raisins

Just think little fairy with small balls trying ever so hard to grow a bigger set! It is so wrong on so many levels but you have to admit it makes you smile and gets the point across. You have to prepare yourself for the world of writing.

Everyone has a view on what they read and the beauty of the written word is in the eye of the reader I guess. But when you have spent hours slaving away compiling a story or any piece of written work, you need someone who is going to take just as much effort giving you feedback.

My friends enjoy reading my work and so are bias. I have to say I like writing for them and would hate to turn that relationship into a professional one but I do learn from their reactions and their thoughts. None of them are trained in the field of critiquing and like everything else it has to be a professional art form to be constructive to the writer.

I had researched to find someone that was not going to rip me off and whom I could trust the opinion of but all they came back to me with was a couple of typo’s and your work is very nice! My fairy don’t do NICE what can anyone do with a word like nice.

My poor little scrotums were sucked up hiding and quivering. Was my work so bland nothing could help it improve! Well I started again and from small beginnings I have grown them into the size of raisins. This week I sent off my work to two competitions, now I have to inflate them to the size of plums and send my novels away.

Stephen king in his book ‘On Writing’ said something on the lines of ‘grow a pair of bollocks’ those five words have stayed with me and I have chanted them to my self all this year, ‘write and grow a pair and send your work out’. After all a writer needs to be read! Hence this blog and three nearly completed novels and one ready to send. More inflating needed I feel.

It has worked well so will be chanting all of next year too and I'm aiming for them to be the size of watermelons by the end of 2012.

Sloe Gin is Rather Good

Finally Margret and I got together to sample her Sloe Gin, unfortunately the parsnips and beetroot crisps took a tumble. I had frozen the beetroot out of Margret’s garden and the water content made it difficult to get them to crisp up. Well in my defence I could’ve made a better job of it if I hadn’t been doing the school uniform wash, preparing the evening meal and a few odd jobs in the office. I have decided multi tasking is not my forte!! Will give this up for the New Year! I sit here wondering with a big smile on my face how that will work and I expect as you read this you’re smiling because you know it won’t.

Kevin will say from time to time if you just concentrated on one thing at a time you would get the job done quicker and better! I wish I had that simple luxury, I will retort. We have special facial expressions for this particular interchange of words and known facts. My face holds the thought “State the obvious” his is “Silly woman”; he would deny this but I can read faces.

Though his view on this multi tasking lark changes when it is him needing something done while I’m in the midst of the fray of family life, trying to be a master of something while tackling a multitude of skills. He has this pitting and pleading look and a hesitant question lingering on his lips that I find amusing. I always think at this point he should give me credit for the situation that is motherhood and never state the obvious. I make him wait until he almost asks (Kevin never asks for anything) and does this goading dance that shimmies with my emotions. It’s painful to watch so I relent. I can almost read his mind he would also deny this!

So after the fluster, I finally make it to Margret’s. My redeeming gift of fresh Figs poached in port went well with the Sloe gin. We talked and laughed our way through the history of womanhood and life as it was in our lifetime and what it has become, laughing as we always do. There is nothing finer than spending time in good company.

Now I woke up the morning after, no not with a headache, we only sipped a glass OK maybe two and I sit here and think to myself my dad makes Sloe Gin. He talks to me about it and has offered me a glass on the odd occasion but I have always refused saying ‘I don’t like Gin dad’ he will always shrug his shoulders ‘fair enough’ he would say. But I must say I feel he has let me down in my education of village life! Education is sometime hard to impart but you should never give up on trying! I do think he could have tried a little harder to educate me on the finer points of Sloe Gin making.

I would like to take up the revival of Sloe Gin making after all it is part of my heritage and the taste is refined so worth the effort but as you have to painstakingly prick every Sloe Berry I’m not sure I could fit this in without multi tasking in triple duplicate. I am wondering though how many bottles dad has managed to make this year, perhaps I will give him a call!

While writing this I have unloaded and loaded the dishwasher and washing machine, folded the clothes and taken a load off the clothes airier and put them in the dryer while trying to fix the wii. I have come to the conclusion kev is right, perhaps I should just concentrate on one task and perhaps my writing would improve, what do you think?

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month We Will Remember you!!!

On the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of the 11^th month

We Will Remember you!!!

Mr Spring told me of the time that Colonel Dick Pedder rallied his men around before the Litani River raid in Syria, where over 120 men gave their lives needlessly due to a mix up with a map.

Colonel Dick Pedder said to his men as he formed them into the 11^th Scottish Commandos “you must be ready to fight against all tyrants and oppressors”.

Tyrant meaning: - absolute ruler who uses powers cruelly and unjustly, an exerciser of authority.

Oppressor meaning: - dominate harshly or cruelly, to be a source of worry, stress or trouble to somebody.

Those words are as poignant, true and rousing as they were when he stood in front of his men in the Second World War, and just before he died fighting for those words. Mr Spring would say that you did not have to be fighting a war against tyrants or oppressors, as they walk amongst us. Over the years I have thought back on Colonel Dick Pedder’s chosen words.

There will always be tyrants and oppressors of countries and governments, local authorities, in our work place and around us in our everyday life; it is a frailty of human nature. It is up to us all, to ask questions and to strive to have humanity in our societies. That humanity is hard fought for and guarded by a few who pay the ultimate price.

History in general and Europe’s History in-particular, shows us what can happen if one group of people believe that they are more intelligent, or more worthy than any other. Disrespect of others breeds War, greed, pain and suffering.

No one human has an absolute right over another. Against the frailty of human nature democracy is all we have. But democracy comes at a very high price and is hard to keep. So on this day on the 11^th hour I will remember every child, woman and man, civilian or soldier, who has or is striving to hold onto humanity through the adversity and give thanks for their bravery, grit and determination.

This year 2016 more than any other in my life, Mr Springs story of Colonel Dick Pedder gathered more meaning, and never have I truly understood what this could mean. It is a very strange time to be a woman, and a mother and it is not just Donald Trump we fight. It is the injustice done to those who fight to support those less fortunate, the ill and infirm, those that are left to fend for themselves while our tick box society, leaves their morals in rhetoric and justify their actions by sanctions. When the powers of government, establishment and media, that think they can hoodwink us, make us fight each other on all sides of a tangled web of lies. We are braver than that, we are stronger than that!

I will ask questions, I will strive for justice and humanity and I will remember you!

Signing up for Motherhood

Well did they like the Figs? Do you know I’m not sure, we were all too busy talking but the plates were empty. Well the wine flowed and so did the conversation and as I looked around it dawned on me how far our lives had travelled. Our children are now becoming adults and although it was inevitable, it’s always a shock when someone mentions that twenty years have past.

I find my self looking at my youngest son Angus, who is six and then my oldest Axl, who is sixteen and find it hard to equate one to the other. How small Axl once was and how big Angus will become.

I was talking about this to my friend Margret, who lives up the road, she was telling me about her grandchildren! Who were adults now! Well I said that’s not going to happen, they didn’t tell me about grandchildren when I signed up for motherhood! Mind you they didn’t read my birthing plan that I painstaking wrote out neither, I pacifically said the Stork method but my children were not delivered by the stork, oh no! They most certainly were not! So I guess signing up for anything in reality means, you just get what you’re given and do the best you can.

Margret likes my work and when I post my blogs I print a copy off for her and in return she gives me beetroot out of her garden. I like pickled beetroot but I love beetroot and parsnip crisps and when I made the figs I thought they would go together well. Now if I had had the time I would have made some to put on the top of the figs in a pretentious chef style.  So when they come back into the shops I will be giving it a go and will let you know if they do indeed go together well. Margret has made some sloe gin and has asked me around to have a taste and there is something rather pleasing and deeply satisfying about sipping home made Sloe Gin (if it doesn’t blow your head off) while nibbling on garden picked fare, even better when in good company.

Breaking news on the Fig front……… Figs are back in the shops in Suffolk!!

I brought some port too, now do I poach the figs in port then bake with the cheese or should I drizzle port over the opened figs and then bake them with the cheese. I fear the possibilities are endless.

Tina Rodwell © Reserves all rights

Fig Hunting in the depths of Suffolk

Well I went fig hunting today and no fresh figs could I find. What to do think, think! Coming up to Christmas there must be some pickled or something. In desperation I looked round the local farm shop in Needham Market and there sitting on a shelf calling me were ‘Figs in light Syrup and Port by the Cottage Delight Speciality Foods’ It sounded good, it sounded like my only chance so I hot footed it back home.

            I prized those plump figs out of the jar; even though they put up a fight and mixed a salad dressing and put some of the syrup in it too. I whizzed some mixed nuts and fruit with cinnamon, in my little whizzer thing and sprinkled them on the lettice mix I picked, for its colour and taste. I baked the figs with goats cheese and drizzled the salad dressing and held my breath to wait for its taste to hit my buds……… not bad, possibly even good and will let you know what my girly friends think.

To Fig or not to Fig, that is my dilemma

I had a very strange day yesterday and I’m blaming my friend Amanda! My reason for this could be considered a little bizarre and probably just a coincidence or family life in general but when ever Amanda organises a girly get together my life takes a tumble.

            I could give many examples but I will just get on with what happened yesterday and as the get together is this evening you could follow the Tilly Happenings as we go and see if I’m right.

            So I had yesterday planed, very simply, go watch a film with Sian my sister-in-law and two of her children and in the evening I had a lady coming round to talk about combining our utility’s together, saving us some money. Simple! Ya think?

            Ok started my day with putting my blog on but wanted to change the background, which took ages as I’m useless at that sort of thing. I then posted my blog later than I should of, so left the house in a mess, picked up Sian; whose car had blown a turbo the day before and was back on track with the day.

             Angus was being Angus and was like one of those African jumping fellows who you have to marvel at their stamina but unlike the singing tall African tribal men, he is just the size to hit my bottom jaw on the way up and my toes on the way down. I was a little frazzled but I’m use to that. We park up and am in full flow of having conversations while holding down my jumping full of life son, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a guy walk into a sign pole. The rebound was spectacular and I tried very hard not to laugh but we couldn’t help it. The poor man was trying to walk away to get out of sight, as you do when you feel a fool but the blood was already rushing out of the wound. I gave him a clean tissue and offered to take him to get it seen to, as I’m pretty sure he would have needed a few stitches. But being embarrassed he just wanted to make light of it, and who could blame him. I’m still wondering if he is ok though, it was one heck of a rebound.

            Well we were still discussing the man through the trailers when the screen went a vivid lime green, then they proceeded to put the wrong film on. The upshot of this was that we were late coming out and getting home for the evenings appointment. Ahrr such is life.

            Anyhow I buzzed around the house, like a worker honey bee I dashed of to the shops to get the much needed coffee and ingredients for the starter I would be doing for the girly get together. What no fresh figs for my fig and goats cheese starter. Now at this point I couldn’t think what to get instead so left the shop in a huff. Got home finished the beans on toast for Kev who had just got out of the shower in a rush to get ready for the appointment, he didn’t look well and just as the lady turned up Kev disappeared and was sick!! We both needed to be at the appointment but I carried on like a martyr as best I could.

            I tried to sleep on the sofa as Kev had taken the starfish position fully clothed and I didn’t have the heart to move him. I woke with a start as Angus jumped fully charged onto me for my morning hug and kisses, zapping any energy out of me with full on love. Then I ran around the house trying to find my phone, which was on silent and I had forgotten I had put on the floor in-case I was not awake when Axl called in the morning. Axl had forgotten to take his shin pads to a sleep over party and had away match in the morning (I knew not what time) and one in the afternoon. Kev took him to football in the car and I still have no figs! And now no car to get any figs!

            After we have retrieved our son from wherever, I then have to get my daughter Ella to a party and to be at Amanda’s for 7.30 while sorting the starter out and keeping it warm for the journey. Then I will have to time departing Amanda’s to pick up Ella with friends who are staying in the caravan and who I will be taking to football in the morning.

            What could possibly go wrong! My only concern it whether I should “Fig or not to Fig” now there is a dilemma!

Last Part of Tammy's Quest for Romance

Here is the last part of 'Tammy's Quest for Romance' hope you like it. I may put all parts together and post them as a whole story, what do you think send me an e-mail to let me know. Now having to dash out (I'm possibly a little late :-) ) Hope you all had a great half term Love Tilly x

Tammy was shocked when she looked across at Sara’s Parents who’s looked mirrored her own. Well Josh and Sara had only known each nine months or so and these days people lived together a while before they married. Tammy held down the panic rising inside the questions and concerns. A leap of faith in them was called for. Life, she thought was very unpredictable and no one knew who was going to survive marriage and for what reasons. Only looking at it on the back of hindsight would anyone know the couples that had survived.

            Just over a year ago she thought she was loosing Josh the odds were so stacked against him. Yet here he was announcing their future. They were both showing off their rings. Tammy shook her head laughing at them and how indulgent of each other they were.

            ‘They are beautiful’ she exclaimed when it was her turn. She looked across at Donna and Tim who both shone with warmth and pride of parenthood and then she felt Mike’s lips on her neck she melted into his cocooned embrace.

            They had all said their goodbyes in high spirits having been shown the venue, menu, flowers and suits while discussing enjoying and sharing the excitements. How different from Tammy’s own wedding plans she tutted to herself, remembering the arguments and disappointments.

            Just as Donna, Tammy and Sara were giving each other another excited hug Sara asked if Tammy could come and help look for a wedding dress. Tammy glistened with tears. Not having a good relationship with her mother or mother-in-law picking her own wedding dress was a nightmare. She had never dared to hope to be allowed in on such an important event. She looked apprehensively over to Donna, who was already listing shops they should visit and that she could pick Tammy up and then there was their outfits. Donna was in her own frenzied heaven.

            Sitting in the car Tammy felt very blessed and kept pleasantly looking back on the days events, when she realised they were going the wrong way. Mike had a huge grin on his face.

            ‘Where are we going Mike?’

            ‘To find a bed.’

            ‘The shops are shut ya fool, it’s Sunday.’

            ‘I know.’

The car was slowing up outside the Hotel they had stayed for their wedding night. He got a small case out of the boot and led her to the reception. Her romantic dream was coming true. Little electric currents zapped through her.

            ‘I have a reservation under Mr and Mrs Smith’ He even winked at the receptionist who looked them both up and down and beamed back

            ‘Certainly sir’

When they were shown to their room Mike insisted she unpacked her bag as he wasn’t sure he had everything for tomorrow for work. He was taking the day off he explained so he could find a new bed.

            She smiled when she saw the silk night dress that was see through and giggled when she found her favourite chocolates, was impressed when she found her favourite author staring at her from her latest novel, knowing should would not be able to read it tonight anyhow. But it was the note that she will never forget. It was covered in aftershave and started

            “I love you my Tammy girl so I’ve burnt your knickers it’s thongs for us from now on.”

She looked over and there he was in cuffs with no shirt attached, dickey bow and diamante adorned pouch. But it was his face and the look he gave her that held the key to her quest, humour made him a very loving romantic.

Tammy's Quest for Romance Part 8

Have managed to get this done for all my friends who have been asking me to write the next part. Thank you for your support and I hope you enjoy it x  

Please everyone let me know if you do by clicking one of the boxes at the bottom. I will post the last part tomorrow or if I get lots of clicks I might post it later tonight x 

Have fun Tilly x

She knew before she got to the bedroom what had happened but seeing her boy’s arms and legs sprawling, curling and contorting like a bed full of snakes, had her in stitches. What was a busted bed? Some times things have to be broken before they can be fixed in a new position for life to continue.

            It had taken a long time for Josh to get his mojo back with the confidence that had been his shinning light. Her pride and love pricked the back of her eyes. Mojo was the word he would use a lot through his treatment. On his worst days he would say

            ‘I have no mojo mum and it’s never gonna come back.’ Well look at him now! She walked over to the wardrobe in a deathly hush; she knew they were waiting for her shouts and belligerent despair but she calmly took out her clothes and everything she needed and turned, tossing her head in a nonchalant fashion and walked out. The bed could be replaced, happiness couldn’t.

            The bed was only a year or so old due to Josh being violently sick all over it and no matter how hard she tried she could not get rid of the smell. Mike said they could live with it and it would go. They had a massive row about replacing that old bed. She found it hard to remember why. She was glad it was broken, now all they will remember would be, they broke a bed while wrestling and smiles instead of arguments and despaired worry would be a memory. Now it would be one of those family stories that make a bond around a family. 

            She heard their hushed silence with their low voices ‘Oh lord what are we going to do about this then.’ Normally she would have gone in, blew up and sorted the situation out, taking control but now she let them get on with it, trusting they would do their best. Well Mike will be ordering the next one as he constantly moaned about that one. Time would tell if he fared better than she at that mission.

            She had decided to ware her new grey knit dress and had brought a colourful under skirt with silky golden colours against a background of cream, very attractive through the laced detail at the bottom of the dress. Cleverly she had matched a scarf to the underskirt tying the whole ensemble together. Looking in the full length mirror she had to admit it looked stunning, admittedly with the help of the hold it all in, push it all up body controller that was fast becoming her best friend.

            Mike would be beside himself. But she had resolved until romance and seduction came into her life again, sex would be a rarity. Laughing she made busy in the tiding the kitchen, thinking how she could never resist Mike and if only he took notice he would use that fact against her, melting her into a smouldering mass. A thought just a seed of an understanding came to her, maybe if she didn’t have such preconceived ideas and was a little more patient he would learn the art of seduction and her quest for romance in real life would be realised. ‘Nar life was not like that’

            As they came down stairs and sheepishly into the kitchen the door flung open and Petra came through. James strode over to her and planted a miss you kiss on her lips. So they were an item, Tammy nodded to herself.

            Petra picked up on the atmosphere of uncertainty

            ‘Oh should I go’ James held her close and Tammy pierced the tension balloon by explaining.

            ‘Don’t be silly, they have just been very naughty boys. They broke my new bed by fighting with each other. I ask you at their age’ they all laughed and as she looked across she could see the shocked amusement on Petra’s face. What must she think?  And as she looked closely over the pretty face with its bouncy glowing deep chestnut hair that was as glossy as the conker she picked up the other day and her face like silky caramel cream with it’s warm tones of joy at her youngest son. A true gift that made her happily and a motherly glow broke out around her.

            It was then she spied mike’s look. A deep fatherly inner warmth that was more appealing than youths first flourish of excitement in finding out about each other, it gravitated her to his magnetism as a man. When their eyes met they held a gaze of knowing each other, understanding that was their shared love. Then he looked at her, while she challenged him with her eyes. Now no one had ever mentioned to her the power of old love revived. He scanned her intently his eyes appreciating her every contour. A tension of deep unease spread through the youngsters watching and was broken by Josh.

            ‘You need to book a room dad!’ the tension was broken again by laughter.       They were busy getting ready to go and Tammy was pleasantly surprised that Petra was coming too. All three cars were loaded up with chairs and the last few boxes and such to take to Josh’s new home. Tammy had made an apple and hazelnut crumble cake and knew the boys; all three of them, had been nibbling away at the edges. She rolled her eyes, she had wanted it to look good but now it had nibberly bits missing as though mousse had been at it. She looked at her watch and began to panic.

            ‘Lord you’re going to be in for the chop my boy, look at the time!’

            ‘Naar she told me to go and never come back.’ Having got the shocked response from his mum he went on,

            ‘I was panicking a bit and she wanted me out of her kitchen.’ It was true love his face held all of the signs and captured it in a smile he held just for Sara.

            They arrived and duly took things up as they went. The flat was spacious enough to give them all room even with the table out. Sara had cleverly made a stew in two slow cookers and a buffet affair with dumplings baked in the oven, crisp on the outside fluffy on the inside all piled up looking tantalisingly scrumpious .

            After they had talked, eaten and thoroughly enjoyed each others company Sara and Josh stood together holding a magnum of Champaign.

            ‘We’ve an announcement to make;’ Josh strong determined voice so full of love proclaimed. ‘We’ve booked the wedding for New Years Eve’

            ‘Bloody Hell’ Tammy shocked voice let slip. ‘Next year?’

            ‘No this year’ Josh’s voice now a tad faltering.

            ‘I’m going to be a Mother-in-Law! Well bugger me!’ She was shocked but why was she so shocked? She felt old, strange and defiantly not ready for this!

A ripple of giggles went around with hand shakes, slaps on backs and kisses they passed Tammy a glass of Champaign which she downed it in one and they filled it up again.    Did you know about this?’ She looked over to Sara’s parents.  

Tammy's Queat for Romance 7

As josh ran into the house he was jovially shouting about his father’s underpants being on fire and where was it happening.

‘I’ve heard of burning your bra mum for women’s lib but your husband’s underpants now that has to be a first!’ Her sons laugh and smile was worth all the pain of childbirth and everything they had suffered in the last two years.

‘It was very liberating and I think your father felt so too.’

‘Calvin Keilns, nice! You’ve come into the millennium at last you old duffer.’

The thing about Mike that the family enjoyed the most was his sense of humour and fun, he was now impersonation a stripper. Totally comfortable with whom he was and his place in the world around him, made him irresistible to Tammy.

            His eyes danced around her face enchanting her even after all these years. It was a bit of a pity that his body had no rhythm what so ever spoiling the moment really. She smiled with that familiar fizzy pop sensation giving goosy bumps all over her. This was picked up instantly by Mike who started to shimmy over to her, focused with deep intent.

‘Watch and learn boys from a master’ Mike was now in full rotational movement and Tammy was backing off knowing if she got caught, fun and frolics would get out of hand. James had just come back into the room.

‘Woow old Grundy slow it down a pace or you’ll give yourself a pacemaker.’

‘This is how it’s done old timer’ Josh showed his moves.

‘Nar ya both hopeless look, like this!’ Now all three men where showing their moves non of which were aesthetically pleasing but good entertainment value so much so Tammy had to run away to calm herself down. Her face ached and lady’s of a certain age should not laugh too hard she thought to her self.

            She heard the kafuffle that signalled a boisterous wrestle fight between father and sons. Such antics should have been grown out of a long time ago; she knew it would end in tears. She decided to take the opportunity to have a shower.

Tilly Has no Plums! and Must Grow a Pair.

I was walking the dogs yesterday and was thinking about the covering letter I was going to write when I got back. I thought really hard about it and then I started to smile; it was going to be a very short letter.

            You see I’m a mother of three and I love to read (when given the chance) and a huge compulsion to write. But that’s not really relevant. I have helped in the local schools and do the accounts for my husband’s small business, so credentials are non existent to mildly acceptable.

            Writing experience is limited as I can’t afford good writing courses and every time I organise to go to a writing event, I have to cancel for one of life’s little spanners that are thrown carelessly in the cogs of my life and wonder if life is trying to tell me something. I’m also dyslexic so education was always a problem and I have nothing to brag about on that front either.

            Social networking they say is good as it shows you have a following and a support network but as only my best friend and I follow my blog, I can’t mention that either (it makes me laugh though). I must try and follow more people but I do feel a little like a stalker. Not sure why, maybe it’s lack of grasping or understanding what social means? Though I like to think it’s because I’m polite; it sounds better anyhow.

            So with a smile and a spring in my step I once again talked my self out of writing to an agent and wrote this blog instead. No plums you see, only shrivelled up prunes. Must grow a pair though and get on with sending my novels away.