Parallel Universe Part 3

We all visibly sighed, for different reasons.

‘She is quite a young lady’ Francesca turned bemused and looked at me. I took it as a compliment but too exhausted to really comment. Zara squeezed my hand, her eyes were electrifying and she made me smile a deep and proud smile that buzzed.

‘I’ll take mother’ as though her mother was a misbehaving child. ‘And ring you in the morning’ looking at Ian. ‘Do what your daughter tells you.’ She scolded Ian. ‘That sounds so good, doesn’t it? I’m an aunty!......Now look after Jane.’

‘I think I will have a coffee, one of those nice coffees please Ian, I just want a word with Jane before I go’.

Zara had come back in with their coats. Ian stood smiling at his sister and his mother, one of those smiles Henry uses when he finds me and Sophie funny. I could feel myself swoon a little with the fatigue a sharp look from Ian to me that was swiftly conveyed to his sister, who gently manhandled her mother out of the house with efficient ease. Ian bringing up the rear so that Francesca could not double back and escape her departure.

So here I was in that other place that I so could have occupied. With a broken ankle late at night with no change of clothes, not even a toothbrush, desperate to get home and in my own bed. I started to text David about the dog and one came straight back at me that I knew was from Sophie. David would never use ‘OMG’ and he wasn’t that fast at returning texts.

‘Would you like me to carry you up stairs?’

‘No’ Was my short and startled reply. It was an amusing idea though.

‘Do you think you could make it up the stairs with help?’

‘I want to go home.’ There was a longing in my voice. At this ungodly hour, on a cold and bitter night it was a silly idea, totally impractical. Ian picked up on the vulnerable need and we made it to the door without too much effort or problem but when he drove his vehicle to the front of the house, my will to go home fell like an icy cold waterfall. How the hell was I going to climb, with a plaster on my leg and in an increasing amount of pain into, a chrome fitted black Hummer?

‘You have to be kidding.’ His eyes were full fun! How could he do this to me after the day I have just had. Fun was not what I could cope with and as the tears started to form into dew drops he held out his arm and somehow I trusted him! Him, of all people in the world as soon as he pulled my arm and swung my body expertly as a fireman, he carried me to the Hummer like a sack of potatoes. Had I decided to wear trousers that day? No, Short skirt and red knickers! They cut my thick denier tights off.

I felt like those sack of potatoes being loaded onto a lorry. He was not short but neither was he very tall so as I slipped missing the seat by a few inches, he grabbed my arse to hoist me into the seat. With an innate reaction, I slapped him around the face. Fuelling my indignation and in his good humour he took the slap with a low rumbling chuckle. Loading me in was one thing getting me out was going to be another and then there was the fact he would know where I lived. Swimming thoughts, sickening feelings and the worst thing of all is that we only lived ten minuets away from one another. How had that happened, I would like to know!

His house was in the centre of historic Bury St Edmunds, a short walk to the shops but quiet enough to be enjoyable. Mine was a two up two down clipper house as our finances had tumbled through Bill’s illness; we had to move just before he died. I wasn’t ashamed of my circumstances but I didn’t want pity. But as we drove up to my home, his face held it anyhow.

‘Jane I can appreciate you would like to sleep in your own bed and you need a few things but…’ I knew before he uttered the words. ‘Don’t you think it would be best if I grabbed a few things and took you back to mine?’ I don’t think your leg would take me swinging you up your stairs.’

I closed my eyes determined not to let my dew drops fall, they abated after sensible thought. I handed him my keys. Looking reassuringly into my eyes and he squeezed my hand. He went in my little universe. I visualised him ransacking the pictures dotted around depicting my life with Bill and the kids, opening my intimate draws, finding private things about who I have become. His eyes would scan every detail with his photographers and philosophers thoughts rummaging through and finding out about me. I had started to shake, for the first time real sadness bubbled within me, why was life so cruel.

I had just started to find my feet, now there was the ironic joke but I had started to stand alone again. Bill’s illness and his eventual death was new, I still woke forgetting he was gone and when I started to think of all his needs my body would sink and then I would remember that he had slipped from me, I would, with relief take a painful breath. But me and the children were forging a life together and to have had that without other complications, just for a few years would have been good.

He emerged with Holly my sweet little shaggy dog. Who was sick every time we went out in a car! I thought of my book and the wine again and my collision with that other universe. He went back inside and emerged with a holdall Sophie used for sleepovers. Its pink and purple flowers were not out of place in his hands and I wish the years of pain that man had caused me would flood my indignation, as they did in my mind when I had visualised our meeting again. I felt nothing though just so very, very empty.

He was back in the car and we were off and my thoughts turned to how I could possible get out of the car by myself. People had gathered around the streets as Christmas parties had come to their climatic end. Great! With my short skirt, red knickers and bulbous painful leg, and on the other foot was high heel shoe entertainment for the crowds no doubt. To add to the torment a friend of Ian’s came over to find out the story behind the new lady. Slightly drunk he slapped him on the back ‘you found her then.’ He looked down to my leg and slightly puzzled, hazily processed the fact I had a cast on my leg ‘What happened to you?’ slapping Ian on the back again. Before Ian could explain, I without thinking remarked with a hoity shrug

‘I tried to run away but fell for him and broke my leg’ He immediately sobered and laughed. I liked his laugh, it warmed me.

‘No wonder he has been looking for you, I like you.’

‘I like you too.’

‘Do you think you like me better sober or drunk?’

‘Sober!’

‘Bugger, better sober up and I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He turned to Ian ‘You going to keep her?’

‘Rafe, would you help us out?’

‘With pleasure.’ His smile flipped my butterflies, enchanting my senses with his genuine pleasure at seeing me. Like a pair of crutches they helped me up the stairs with Honey in hot pursuit. Innuendos flew around as I was guided to Ian’s flamboyant bedroom and they sat me down on a Chaise Longue. Ian went to fetch the bags and Rafe kept staring at me in a very pleasing way. His short thick blond hair, stubbled chin and sparkling blue eyes played with my face lingering on my mouth and eyes. In his mid forties and slightly drunk, inhibitions were set free and instead of bravado there seemed an earnestness about him that I liked so when he came and sat next to me I started to gravitate towards him.  

Ian walked in with a face like thunder when he looked over to us both, but Rafe just smiled over to him and put his arm around me and tugged me close.

Rage is spontaneous and rather uplifting I thought.

Local Librarian All of aFlutter

Heather loved working at the library and was impressed with her little sleepy town for putting so much effort in to keeping it open. It had now been turned into a meet and greet centre with book clubs and local writing groups making good use of their conference rooms. She was also proud of her staff, nothing seemed to make them happier than indulging her in her bright ideas but she had to admit the colourful rainforest was a stroke of generous, even for her.

Neville had helped them get it right and even brought Burt in with his three colourful ladies, for that extra special flavour of the Brazilian habitat. Burt was Neville’s eighteen year old blue macaw that talked and loved to perform. They had entertained the children and the adults looked impressed too. It helped that the latest Disney film had been released and the plight of the birds within the pet industry had some how struck a cord of utter disgust in their little world. Perhaps it had more to do with the passion of Neville; he was a bit like Burt in many ways; a chatter box everyone wanted to listen to and the ladies loved him feathered or human. Once you had the mums hooked the children had to follow, Heather loved a cunning plan.

It was all packed away now just the central tree to tackle. A sleepy Sunday afternoon was the ideal time. Heather had made busy getting everything back to normal so when the quiet poet came on Monday he would have the tranquillity he needed. He got distracted easily and would worry at the slightest detail, a blank canvas was best for him. Though once on his feet and reading his poetry and answering questions he did command his audience. They were lucky enough to have him came twice a year and they were now charging five pounds, which included wine or coffee, making it more of an event. So that is why she took out the steps and found herself, in this perched position.

The branch that she was now sitting on was in-fact an old beam that had blended in well with the theme of a forest. It had been a little bothersome while she tackled cutting the straps that anchored the pretend branches to the trusted beam. Taking the main tree down in stages from the very top would be easier and a lot safer she had thought. Well it would have been if she hadn’t climbed on the beam and her leg had not got so excited that it pushed the ladder over.  

The likelihood of anyone coming in this afternoon was slim to zero and it had taken her an hour to ring round everyone she could think of to pick the ladder up. It would have been so simple if only she could get through to someone. She had even contemplated climbing down but would rather feel foolish about knocking a ladder down than breaking a leg. The mobile reception in the library was poor so was unable to through to anyone; eventually she knew she would have to try to make a call to the fire station. Failing that it would have to be a 999 call.

Her dad and brother were on the same shift at their local fire station and as it was dad’s last day and the end of his shift, she new she would never live it down. She could just picture the gathering around the Sunday roast telling the story of when Auntie Heather got stuck up a tree in the library on the day he retired. She took a deep breath as the phone rang out loud against the quiet of the still room. After briefly explaining her predicament they insisted that they could not just pop out to give her a hand Oh no! They were on duty. It had to be a full on emergency, think of the publicity they had said. They had put her on loud speaker too, she could hear everyone laughing.

She had been sitting there now for an hour and a half knowing they would have their network of family and friends getting all the people they could think of to make the most of this situation for the benefit of the community they would say but the enjoyment of finally catching her out would be their strongest prey drive!

The sirens were screaming out her embarrassment as closer and closer came their call. She could hear lots of people too. She could see the headline now ‘Local librarian all of a flutter’. Well if you’re going to be the main exhibit you might as well enjoy it, just think of Bert she told herself ruffle up those feathers the show must go on.

There had been applause and many laughs as she was ‘fireman lifted and man handled’ down from her perch in an un-ceremonial and truly embarrassing way. This was not helped by the very pretty blue dress she had worn, thank heavens she had put her thick leggings on.

The reporter concentrated on the mobile phone is a life saver that we rely on but when the signal is bad who ya guna call? A good angle Heather thought and very kind of him and went some way in making up for the Photos he made her pose for. He also gave a lot of much needed publicity for the library and the events they were going to hold in the next few weeks. This was worth the strife she would get for the next week or two. But it would never make up for the lifetime of grief from her ever loving family and had turned out to be a true retirement gift for her dad.

when a bitch is in pup and the bitch is a much loved pet you become the birthing partner



Tink likes to be by my feet while I work



So how is Tink doing? Oh she is fine it’s me that you need to worry about. There is a lot more to this birthing partner business than you would think.

There are some breeders that have to have full control, with scans and thermometers to predict how many puppies and as the body temperature drops this lets you know birth is going to take place fairly soon. Talking to the vet and reading a fair amount on the internet with everyone’s views duly considered I took the approach that my vet advised me, to have less intervention and closer bonding.

            Tink would not make a fuss at having a cold implement shoved where the sun don’t shine but I know she would sit down a lot while I tried to take her temperature and look round with the expression of ‘Honestly, you really going to do that again, what is your problem’. But I must admit that knowing how many puppies would be an advantage. But from my personal experience scans can only be a guide (I was carrying twins and they could not see the second twin, how on earth can they tell if there are five or six pups?). So the stress for us to have these procedures out weighs the possible gains.

            So, even more than ever I’m tuning into Tink's energy. It really is like the old fashioned radio, you know like the ones with the dials that you keep going back and forth feeling the vibrations until you know you have it right. I’m always on the look out for a change in her frequency.

            Well it came to last Tuesday night (8^th March 2011) just under seven weeks gestation and I noticed that Tink's posture had changed, not uncomfortable but more unwell. I looked at her gums and they looked paler, skin of a salmon, normally they would be a pink candy floss colour. Well I went straight to my laptop and googled, there were three possibilities. Low blood pressure (would go with pregnancy and due to give birth, though this was a little early) the reflux in her gums was good though (when pushed down they soon went back to original colour) so I ruled that out. Preeclampsia, due to too much calcium given in the diet, I was told by the vet to give her puppy food and cottage cheese, well there were a lot of scare stories on google etc. about how wrong this is. I took the view that dogs are as individual as people are and for some they may need this and some it may cause problems. It didn’t feel that this was the right explanation though. The third possibility was dehydration, this seemed more likely, so there I am on the floor at nine at night feeding a reluctant Tink ice cubes. Once she had taken the first one there was no stopping her and I knew I was on the right track.

            The Next day I bumped into the Owner of www.happydogdays.co.uk which I do quite often when out walking and asked her advice. She immediately put my mind at ease and gave me some advice on how to get Tink interested in food again. So I rushed home and made rice with broccoli to keep the iron in her diet but not the calcium. Not any old rice, oh no, not for my Tink ;-) but wild rice to give texture and aid digestion none the less. I gave a little home cooked chicken (so no added salt will be given) and pushed it into the rest of the food as Tink is partial to my lemon and garlic chicken. Kev was looking forward to his chicken sandwich which always follows a roast and was bitterly disappointed, he’ll get over it, eventually.

She warms my feet

             Well six very small meals later with ice each time and the colour has come back a little and Tink has a little of her old spring back; was going to say spring in her step but she can’t manage that due to being too big. Now everyone, animal or human is treated this way when they come into my care and for those of you that have kept up with my blog and know me as a writer or personally, will be waiting for the fluffy fairy bit as my flight of fancy takes off. So here it is.

             

            Well talking to two friends the other day who were asking how Tink was getting on, I thought I would have a little bit of a laugh, recounting some of the things I find myself doing from time to time for the welfare of my little fluffy pooch. There is nothing better than seeing friends laugh. I then recounted happenings of last year that I keep threatening Kev with, a dog’s buggy! Let me explain.

            We were walking along Felixstowe prom one summer last year when Kev did a double take and exclaimed some people take things too far. Looking around to see what caused this reaction. I saw a Pug sitting proudly in a blue dog’s buggy, with its owners like proud parents pushing it along. Taking in the full scene, I noted the couple were elderly and had three other small breed dogs trotting along with them. On closer inspection I saw the Pug was old but obviously getting a great deal of pleasure from sniffing the air and being out and about. I said nothing and just smiled.

            A little later we sat eating our ice creams when I told him I could see no wrong in having a buggy for a dog. His expression was priceless as a mixture of, you need a reality check and where oh where did that come from, burst from his face as he chocked on his ice-cream. Just when you think you know someone his eyes told me they go and say something outrageous.

            Look I said as the elderly couple went slowly past. The poor old pug would never be able to keep up with the others I explained, what choice do they have? Leave the old one home alone? Or put it in a buggy and just as I said this they took the Pug out and let it have a little wonder. It was everything a Tilly moment should be and will keep it as a little treasure to get out when we are old.

            ‘Well’ I said to my friends but they already knew what was coming.

‘Your not’ said Judith, Sue was looking at me giggling.

‘Well’ I said ‘it would make sense, wouldn’t like to leave the pups behind and Tink needs her walks.’ At this point I was joking but now I come to think of it until the pups are 12 weeks, they should not be put on the floor for the fear of them picking up Parvovirus disease before they can be vaccinated, but need good socialising. The children at Angus’s school would love to see her pups and Tink loves to see the children, so perhaps I should give this some thought and invest in a dog’s buggy, what do you think?



She is sooo worth it x



Patience they say is a virtue?

After a couple of weeks of little frustrations, such as washing machine, tumble dryer and dishwasher deciding they had had enough and quit working (I couldn’t blame them). I replaced them only to find the replacements had issues going on and we had to wait for their replacements. Then the car decided to have moments likened to a toddler having a tantrum, deciding it was going no further at the most inconvenient time! I know no time is convenient but when I had three places to be at the same time, making the calls while a line of traffic built up, with a tractor driver offering to push the car to one side for me while the children where shouting questions of importance, can make you a little overwrought and jaded around the edges. They just needed to give me time but they all seemed unwilling. Finally the car calmed down and started and the tight country lane was in full flow again.

Imagine then, how happy I was on that Friday evening to finally open a bottle of wine, escape upstairs and enter my in-a-sanctum of my beautiful new en-suit. Scented candles gave a pleasant and relaxing ambiance of a tropical beach. So realistic was the mood that I was sure even before switching on the shower that I could feel the water lapping at my toes. Alas it was not my imagination, there really was water lapping at my toes. My in-a-sanctum is no more. Life can be full of events that test your patience to the limit!

In the two years since this happened despite many men coming to look and scratch their chins and two new doors replacing the old Leakey one. I still have no flooring down, due to the leak that still persists through the seam in the door. I had said right from the start that I thought it was a design fault. Three men looked around at me, the shower man; the plumber and my poor husband, they indulged my theory only two years later did they believe it!

Patience they say is a virtue that will be rewarded, what I would like to know is when!

Tink an up-date.

I’m no expert and I don’t want to go rummaging around to find out but if being off her food, not wanting to walk too far and her pacing me to the sofa at every given opportunity so that she can get herself comfortable on me is anything to go by, then yes, I think she is in pup!!

When I make a coffee at lunch time she wines at the living room door and when I open it so that she can go in, she stands at the door and looks deep within me and waits for me to understand. She considers it my duty to come and spend some time with her; after all it’s my fault she is in this predicament! I feel this vibe very strongly! Not normally stopping for lunch, it took me a couple of days to get the message but with her perseverance I have gained the enlightenment and I must say it has been a wonderful and therapeutic time for me.

I knew it was my duty to make sure that I have good homes for the pups, that I take every precaution to breed a healthy brood and I have. Meticulously going through every piece of advice ensuring that I understand it and when I’m given conflicting advice that I, think it through and do the best I can. What I had not anticipated was this strong feeling of empathy.

I hated being pregnant, it neither felt natural or comfortable and the sickness was not just in the mornings but 24/7. Tink is not just off her food but not eating at all!!!! I understand her reluctance to eat, I remember it well. I had this desperate craving for chocolate mouse, knowing it was going to resurface was none to pleasant either but the need to eat them was so strong I could not deny it. A few moments of pleasure for an hour or two of hell never seemed worth it but there, such is life. I have found a few ingenious ways to get her to eat a little and am hoping that soon her need to feed her growing pups, will take over and that her sickness will soon subside.

Then there is her effort to get up and bearing in mind the pups aren’t even showing yet and things are going to get worse is playing on my mind. I remember feeling my body had been taking over by an alien when I was first pregnant and the looks she gives me with those deep toffee eyes, I can see she feels the same, though much stronger as she has five/six little aliens growing inside her.

Taking time out of my day to fulfil her needs, looking at her changing ways and body, does give me a sense of wonder. Just by eye contact, looking at her demeanour, feeling the energy that pass between us and observing, it is surprising how much you can understand and communicate without words. This for me is the reason I love dogs so much, not the unconditional love they can give me but the way they make me look at life.

I feel this understanding would work with teenagers and toddlers alike. If we stopped looking at them as pre-programmable adults and just took time to breath deeply, observe and feel the energy that passes through us and them, perhaps our communication skills would be greatly improved along with our lives. It’s just a pity it doesn’t work with husbands, I have tried. Oh I can understand him and his needs but there is only one look he understands/takes notice of . I only have two types of energy apparently; angry or happy and nothing in-between gets noticed. Our communication is fine he would say, I understand him, what more do I want?

Someone to visit me in my goldfish bowl for a change?

So How is the Strike Going? You Might Well Ask!

Problem is I keep forgetting I’m on strike, well as I’ve said before I’m the facilitator! (say ‘the facilitator’ in your best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice it works better) It’s a innate thing, part of me and when it’s not taken advantage of, very enjoyable. But and it’s a big but, people never know what they have until it’s taken from them and they miss it - well that’s the theory I’m working on at the moment - so if I stop doing all those little things for them, they are bound to miss them and they will appreciate them and me a little more. RIGHT?

            Going on strike or working to rule should never be taken on lightly though! Not only is it extremely difficult for mothers to undertake and let’s face it, if I did go on strike, truly, truly on strike the only person that would notice would be me, also it can be depressing as the house spirals out of control.

            When I look around the house in the mornings and see the devastation that family life produces I do wonder how it all happens. The washing basket at last is empty and I rush to go and get a cloth to wipe the bottom and when I get back it’s full again. How does that happen? That fairy is to blame I’m convinced.

            Francis Xavier; it is told, came up with the quote ‘give me a child before seven and I will give you a man’ or something along those lines. I would like to have a few moments to put him right about this one. A man who lived on his own and had never been involved with the workings of a child’s mind and tantrums can theorise all he wants and we would all love to be able to believe in this simplistic view. I know for a fact he's wrong, otherwise I would’ve stopped telling my children to say please and thank you by now; something I've been doing before they could talk so by now, according to his teaching, this should be part of them. I find that they have minds and a debating ability all of their very own and even though it matters how I bring them up this is not by anymeans the only influence that has a profound effect on them, infact surprise surprise they are indervidual people not robots you can pre-program Saint Francis Xavier!! More's the pitty.

            Then there is the Angel-Devil effect. You know when your child is so angelic and you are so full of pride they then throw a mega wobbly out of the blue (reason un-known to them or you) and just as you get your head around this and put strategies to help get through it all, they change back to that Angelic creature of two seconds ago.

            So after the struggle with unruly belongings, washing and children do you really have the energy to say ‘No I can’t do that, I’m on strike remember!! By the time all that has happened I think your doing well to remember who you are.

Just Why Did I Want to be a Mum?

Just why did I want to be a mum?
I can’t quite recall.
Was it the love of sleepless-nights?
No time to one’s self at all,
With a head full of voices
That are not your own.
I thought of the times
Of stories and teddies,
Making tents,
Snuggling up after bath times.
With long walks
While having long convoluted talks.

I dismissed from my mind
The hazard of learning
Repetitive questions
Investigations of what really happened
Or bodily pooing functions
With wee’s and farts
Demonstrations given of their manufactured burps
At the local supermarket,
On pension day!

I thought of marshmallow cheeks
To kiss softly to sleep
Sweet slumber with loving sighs
I didn’t know anything of the nightmare cries
I’m a filing cabinet, that’s all!
A computer, a machine
From the moment I open my eyes it starts
Where did my wallet go?
Open file
Put in information for quarry
Last seen in husband's hand
Who was proceeding towards
The shower-room
Quarry shows possibilities
Left in pocket of trousers on the shower room floor,
In washing basket
Or on top of the loo,
"See!" He shouts
"I told you , you moved it!"

First child down the stairs
"Is it a school day mum?"
"No, but we have to be out by ten"
"Oh no! I hate being out
On Saturdays!"
Second child down the stairs
"How many elephants can you
Get on a pin head?"
"Fifteen I think the man said.
Now remember to write the
Card for the party,
It’s at two thirty"."What are you going to wear?"
"Out, out, let’s go.
See ya love."
"When will you be back, do you know?"
"Why?"
"I need a bit of a hand"
I look straight at him
With an open glare
Perhaps I misheard
For the list of jobs I have to do
Is rather absurd

I can see by his expression I didn’t mishear
But the look I gave was enough
To strike fear
And he'll not ask again.

Alone at last
House all quiet
Even the dog had gone.
A solitary bath
Luxury

Piping hot water
Fragrant and relaxing aromas
That turns the water blue
The bubbles sparkle and shimmer
And hold rainbow colours that dance.
Slipping into the bubbles
That cling like magical oysters
To my relaxing body
Holding a glass of wine to sip
I regain my inner being
My soul comes to life
And for this moment
I become truly me

For ages I dreamily float
On a cloud of bubbled soap
And soak away the trauma
Of trying so hard to be what
Does not come naturally
A good mother.

Many lessons I have to learn
That will last my whole life long
As my Gran once said
"Your father though retired
Is a worry to me
Is he happy?
Is he fed?

A long time a mother, no turning back,
For even when they're not with you
Your heart is not your own".

I’m dry now
House still quiet
Sexy undies
To keep hold of the woman
That is part of me.

Time to pick them up,
Will he remember where they are?
Should I ring?

I miss their loud antics
The dust they make
Sounds of laughter
And in my mind’s eye
I see their smiles
The way they talk,
Hear their questions
The looks they give each other
And the ones they keep
Just for me.

I begin to understand a little
Of what my Gran once said
They will never be
Out of my heart or my head.

My innate sense of time
Rings aloud an alarm
Time they were here at home
Safe, with me!
Phone in my hand
I punch the numbers,
As methodically I go through
All the sensible and horrific Scenarios.

The door bursts open
And life breathes in
The quiet house gone again
As a home kick starts into action
Flowers thrust into my arms
Closely followed by a take-away.
Smiles and love fills
Every space of the quiet house
Making it our home

As my family sit contented
Watching the latest DVD,
Inwardly I bloom.

It’s not quite what I expected
Being a mum.
But sitting on the family sofa
Is a little like
Flying to the moon
In a beautiful sky blue
Jewel incrusted boat.
You just have to learn,
How to
Let it
All
Float!

My very supportive family and a compulsion Takes flight a Tilly debate.

I have added a second part of the story at the bottom. Skip the first bit to find out what happens next.

My very supportive family make my day worthwhile. Oh Yeah! They know how to fill me with confidence and inspire me.

I was talking to Kev about going in for a competition that had; as part of its prize a mentoring scheme, he thought the mentoring was a good idea but told me to save my money on entrance fees as I was unlikely to win. Giving him the benefit of the doubt I thought he put this down to the fact that it was a big competition and there would be many entrants so it would be difficult for me to win. But that was my own naivety.

            Sitting down later that day he said he had given it some thought and while having a cup of coffee he elaborated on his comment earlier. I hadn’t asked him to and as my self esteem had dug its self a rather large hole into which to bury its self in, I think he should have drunk his coffee in peace; after all there is only so much realism a person can take.

            His thoughts concluded that while he enjoys my take on life as I see it, my short stories are not my thing and I should just write the odd poem and anecdote as a hobby and enjoy it.

            It gave me enough food for thought for a banquette for a thousand hungry guests. I will have to take time in digesting this, as I internally debate whether I should give up on the short story and novel idea. I would ask the other family members what they think but I would hazard a guess their answer would be the same. Thinking about that that really should tell me something shouldn’t it! WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE TILLY!!!!!!!!

            How so ever the short story should be 300 words but I wrote 480 so he’s right! I’ll let you decide whether it was worthy of writing.

I Watched as my Compulsion Grew wings

I watched my compulsion grow wings and take flight, I tried in vein to catch her but to no avail. I stood incensed; as once more I had been passed over for a promotion and it was given to the loud mouthed, unnatural red haired, tight skirted, bursting boosomed know it all; that knew nothing and the most aggressive office bully that I had ever met in my life. An unnatural compulsion to tell the truth, without a care rose like an out of body experience. It looked so beautiful and felt so liberating. I was transfixed on the spot at the splendour of it all.

            ‘Did you hear what I said?’ Her banshee’s screech hurt my ears. Slowly I brought my eyes down and focused on her thick makeup that clung to her features like a badly made mask.

            ‘No’ I replied dully and turned to go. She grabbed my arm to swing me around so that another onslaught of her abuse could be unleashed on me but my compulsion was having none of it. Without turning and with conviction and an inner strength; I had rarely felt, I asked her to let me go.

            ‘You stay here and listen to what I have to say. Just because you wanted the Managers job but they picked me;’ her face had screwed up into a contorted hag’s; which I must admit suited her personality well. ‘For obvious reasons, might I add!’ she continued. By now the whole office had stopped what they were doing. I looked around and back at the false nailed, boobs on stilts and before I could capture it, it took flight again and all my thoughts and truths whirled through the air zooming with zeal and delight. The crowd that had gathered were taking great enjoyment in my swooping and looping statements. I watched her face crumble and the mask crack in lines but I didn’t stop and as I reached the door, I bowed with exhaustion and exhilaration, as I closed the door on the stunned manager and delighted crowd.

            As the wings of my compulsion carried me home I kept saying to anyone who would listen, did I really do that? Flash backs of the statements I had made, amused me but if they hadn’t been truths they would have filled me with remorse.

            I thought by Thursday I would get a call; after all I was the only one Mr Fleming would talk to and then no one knew where the key to the supplies was kept or how to work the printers when they had a funny turn; which they did every third day or so. So by Thursday someone would have to eat a large piece of humble pie and ring and ask for help. Now I wonder who will be chosen for that deed and I wondered if a salary of a manager was enough!

THE END

P.S If you’re wondering who the boobs on stilts is, its Kev in drag!

I’m dedicating this to Julie who is suffering from man flu. I know Kev’s thoughts on my work will incense her beyond distraction speeding her recovery I hope and giving her some light relief. x

The second part of this story which I had no intention to write was asked for by a very dear friend who laboriously goes through my work when I send it out to agents. Unlike my family she firmly believes I will get published, with her and a few others they keep me going. That and my readers of my blog so many thanks x

            To Tina my name sake bless ya x

When a Compulsion is Liberated

            Liberation couldn’t last long, finances being what they were. Did I really want my old job back anyhow? Contemplating the issues I walked as I often did, in a semi trans-like-state when I heard a friend call. We had met a few times while she was walking her little lad, so friend was probably too strong word for it, acquaintance is a better description of our relationship. Apparently I lifted her spirits and made her laugh, a much needed thing when your child is teething.

            We had walked across the green some way and had turned to go through our favourite part of the village, a wooded walk through. Going parallel with the road I could see a car pull up, I thought I recognised the car but I’m completely hopeless when it comes to cars. Not wanting to appear rude and stare at a stranger I turned to answer a question Jane had just asked. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the screaming banshee stride on her stilts over to me. Acutely embarrassed, knowing from experience that she was going to get verbal again, I turned to apologise to Jane. I want a word with you her venom spat out.

‘We’ll wait’ she nodded to Tom in the buggy.

‘No I don’t think so’ I replied moving to protect Tom but I was too late as Boobs on stilts, nearly stumbling over him to get to me.

            I could see from her fixated eyes that she was out to get my eyes. Lord I thought she needed careful handling but what could I do with dog poo bag full of the stuff and the lead to my pregnant bitch in one hand? Somewhere in my mind I heard the voice of my son when he had taken an army day at school ‘bend the figures back to gain control. Well I didn’t argue as I’d already sustained a scratch high up on my right cheek bone. When I had full control she started to kick me as hard as she could.

            The thing that struck me was how quiet she was, not a murmur. Her eyes were fixed and with every sinew she had was out to get my eyes, to cause as much damage to them as she could. I bent her fingers a little further while I asked Jane to take my dog and poo bag.

‘You’re hurting me’ she wailed.

‘Sorry’ was my reply. I know, I know. It makes me laugh too but manors cost nothing. Well I was bending them hard to gain control and to stop her kicking me, so I relaxed my gip a little.

            So there we stood in a bit of a dilemma really. Quiet, nothing at all being said while I contemplated what to do. She had started to calm down, well she had too I was in full control. Bullies always think they can physically take on more than they truly can.

            I was not prepared to let her go close to toddler and dog. So I frogmarched her backwards fashion to her car. Jane shouted that she was on to the police and she should go and she retorted that how she could do that, nodding at her hands.

‘You think I’m letting go you’ve another think coming.’

‘I can’t get in the car like this’ she nodded again at her hands. She had a point. So I pushed her free and made ready for retaliation and was a relieved that none came. She hurled a few abusive remarks and left.

            I went over to Jane to check she was ok. Jane was reciting the number plate and handed me the phone to the police.

            When I had got home the police were waiting for me to take a statement. They advised me to press charges; even though it wouldn’t make it to court she would be flagged on police records for my safety and that of others.

            When they had come back from arresting her they could give no answers to why the attack happened apart from what I had told them of what had happened in the office she had said nothing. That was what perturbed me and the officer for neither of us thought what I had said was enough to warrant my eyes from being scratched out. The arresting officer said they had a hard time getting her to admit to what happened he said that only when they told her they had witnesses and that I had pictures of the intentional scratches and that if she did not admit to her part in it they would be forced to take things further did she admit to it.

            We laughed and though I was shaken, I was more embarrassed. Well the sight of two middle aged women having a scrap with a poo bag and a pregnant dog on a lead in the middle of a quaint village, well it is funny bordering on surreal.

            I also know that one day that Banshee Ninja and I will meet again. I wonder what will happen then?

Falling off the Tandem part two

It was only five thirty when I got to my room and I had an hour to wait before diner menu was available.

I had looked forward to reading and enjoying my pimms all week but found I couldn’t settle; due to being wound up by the spiteful text. I decided to go for a walk to unwind the tightly coiled spring within. It didn’t take long the two glasses of Pimms had worked their magic. I walked back to the veranda the July heat had subsided and the flowers sent floated on the calm and still air. It truly was a glorious setting and perfect for a wedding.

The stillness was broken by a rich and good humoured male’s voice talking on a mobile phone. As I walked up to the steps, I caught the gist of the conversation. They (whoever was on the other end of the phone and Mr. Smooth voice) were the ones who had cancelled the honeymoon suite. They had organised a helicopter to take the soon to be newly weds to a seaside location of the bride’s childhood, where the couple would not be disturbed by their boisstres friends and family; who would also be staying at the hotel. I smiled as I walked past, how sweet and thoughtful and was glad that the wedding hadn’t been called off as I had thought.

I heard his hurried footsteps and half of me wanted to turn around and see if the face matched his luscious voice the other half wanted to grab and kiss him fully on the mouth with every ounce of passion I felt. I sighed I had not had sex for so long it was starting to effect me and daydreams of romance an ever persistent emotion to sit on. Must get back to the safety of the room, I was obviously in no fit state to be out in public. I actually giggled out loud at this thought.

As I made my way to the exquisite French doors still wondering what he looked like and planning to sit on the table just inside, so I could take a sneaky peek at this voice that melted me like a warmed marshmallow. But before I could reach the top tier of the extensive veranda, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Oh and he was as sexy as his voice. His appeal dripped from his smiling eyes and down his cheeks to his smile that I immediately swooned for.

‘Sorry to bother you’ He almost pleaded with his voice and I just about stopped myself from saying ‘the pleasure is mine’ I blushed as he kept his hand on my shoulder the contact with another adult human being was intense to the point of pain. ‘Are you going into dinner now?’

‘Yes’ I replied trying to breath and not fling my arms around him and snog with gusto, now there’s a word from the past snog. The long lost sense of teenage faire l’amour sprang from that word and a primal instinct that was hard to ignore came with it. The little devil inside me wanted to hide the mother side of my complex being in a cupboard and release the animal within. But regrettably the mother side won, again! And the frustrated animal was captured and behind safe bars mores the pity!

‘Would you mind if I tagged along?’

‘Sure’ I tried to casually shrug. This was not good, how on earth was I going to keep my hands off him, let alone think straight? Now I felt a little uneasy about being on my own for diner and what on earth would he think if he knew I was in the Honeymoon suite, I wondered.

As we went down past the reception he asked me if I was on the bride’s side or the grooms.

‘Neither’ I answered tensing, lord I thought how ridiculous and silly my ideas are if he finds out I’m on my own he is going to think I’m a right loner; which of course I am, a mother is always a loner when divorced.

‘Oh’ His awkwardness made him pause for a while and then he carried on. ‘So sorry I thought you were one of the guests for the pre wedding dinner. Can I get you a drink?’

Good lord a drink, not a great idea really, unpredictable urges that felt as if they were going to erupt at any second needed strong support not more of a relaxed attitude. I reasoned; I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to. If we parted now he would be embarrassed as he would be unable to keep his invite to diner and not to mention how I would feel about being dressed up and on my own. Having a drink would get us both out of a difficult social situation. It would also give me time to plan a timely retreat. I could have a soft drink but when he asked if I wanted to share a bottle of wine I smiled and said that would be lovely.

‘So are you waiting for someone?’ He looked at me obviously taking in my dress. I wished I could lie but some of us just can’t.

‘No’ I confessed with guilt. His confused and puzzled expression made me want to play with his bemused face that he fought gallantly to control. My heart took pity on him and the truth tippled out, thanks to the Pimms.

‘This is a new beginning, silly really and a story that probably would take up most of the evening in the telling and would bore me and send you to sleep, so I’ll spare us.’ He was about to say something but once started I had to carry on. ‘I was going to have dinner and then go and read a book.’

‘That dress would be wasted on a book’

I blushed. ‘That’s very kind’

‘Nonsense, it’s a simple fact.’ He took a wine buffs approach to the just poured wine which had appeared like a magic trick. Deep in thought we waited the wine waiter and I for his verdict. He looked right into my eyes, deep into them and smiled. I felt that I could almost read his thoughts; he had picked the wine for me. He nodded at the waiter. As the waiter left he turned his thoughts to me by which time I had rapidly drank half the glass; the tension was getting to me and he was right the wine was divine. He lent over to refill my class but I held my hand over the top.

‘I try very hard to sip wine but when it’s cool and as refreshing as this, I tend to drink faster than perhaps is wise.’ He smiled and gave a little rumble in the back of his throat. It made me breathe deeply with contentment. He looked at me pleasantly surprised by my reaction.

            ‘I would like to ask a favour and I honestly wont be offended if you decline’ He attentively began. ‘I know we’ve just met and that was a little unorthodox on my part and this is going to seem really strange. But would you help me….you see I was supposed to come with someone for the family pre wedding diner and to my sisters wedding and our over bearing mother would spoil her evening and day, if all she could go on about was the fact I’m single again. There would be the Spanish inquisition of why and at the top table there would be no let up, it would all be unbearable.’

His pleading eyes drove away my inhabitations and all defences.

‘I would love to be your knight in shinning armour’
As I took another sip and an inward panic started to built up. It’s ok putting yourself forward heroically, I thought but will you be any good at riding the white charger and how are your lance tactics? I pondered. I took another sip; well actually a gulp, perhaps I think too much and even worry more. Live a dream, just for a short while, become something you will never have a chance of becoming again. Go on have a little fun, without responsibility. Mothers should have a duel personality to keep them sane; now who had said that? If nobody had they should’ve. I looked across at the stranger and into his eyes that were deep and mellow and full of playful peril. Irresistible! Somethings in life you just have to have a go at. I mounted that white charger, I feared the wrong way round, as he led me to my quest. 

My Octopus on Speed Has Gone Missing

So what do I mean about my octopus on speed? Well when any child enjoys doing things they know they shouldn’t but don’t quite know why not, they go through a really hard period of time when that is all they seem to do. Angus use to like; on the odd morning I was unprepared, to go straight to the cupboard I used to keep the biggest box of washing powder I could buy and spill it all over the floor, as I would’ve reached that point he would have scarpered to the dogs bowl emptied that then run through to the living room and emptied all of his numerous books all over the furniture, put some in bags and all his hiding places as fast as he could. So I had no hope of any damage limitation. He would then calmly sit and read as though he was the book worm and not the octopus. By the time I had cleared up the aftermath of his arrival I would be running late and stressed. I would then look in on him and there he would be oblivious happy and content.

The thing is that he would go for long periods of time in-between these outbursts so I was lulled into a false sense of security, I’d let down my guard with ‘Oh that phase has passed, good!’ so the explosion of activity always caught me off guard. Then he would go full pelt and headlong into a situation I could only live and breathe through; if I was lucky.

Angus enjoyed doors especially ones with locks on so when we went for a sort break to Paris and booked a family room I was on my guard. When we got there and found that the bathroom door was solid and had no emergency lock on the out side, I was on my high alert setting. Every time one of us wanted to use the bathroom I would stand near the door making sure Octopus boy could not slip through below my radar and lock himself in. Axl 10 Years Angus’s senior had just came out and as I was on century duty holding the door to make sure little man could not trap his fingers or lock himself in I turned to ask Axl if he had brushed his teeth. I felt a slight force and as I turned back the door slipped shut and the lock was engaged and my heart filled my veins with a cold dread.

While Kev went searching to find help, I held Angus’s attention as close to the door as I could, while reaching across the hall to pick up the fire extinguisher to bash the door down. I clouted that door with all my might spurred on by my over active imagination running through all the possibilities. There was a long mirror near the toilet that was fragile when you consider that a phone was opposite and I could hear him clunking the mirror with it, as I was thrashing the door with every fibre I owned. Then there was the fact he could run the hot tap by himself and climb into the bath unaided, put the plug in slip and fall on the marble, climb onto the sink with all the chemicals to sniff and drink. 

So when Kev arrived back with help, I was relieved. The man went straight to the phone understanding this was a very dangerous situation, so picking up the phone to get an engineer to take off the door - I though we were home and dry. That is until I heard Octoboy picked up the phone cutting off our help line and his voice full of enjoyment and fun said clearly ‘Hello, Hello, Hello’ which was all his vocabulary held at that time and put the phone down, only to do it all again on an endless loop. This carried on for a few more failed attempts when my ‘would be hero’ asked me to tell my eighteen month old son to put the phone down. I looked instantly at him and retorted not too politely, if I could have that sort of conversation with him I would have asked him to unlock the door.

Well the poor man asked me what he should do when I suggested he should use his long legs and go and get help before my son did real damage to himself. Again everyone departed and I was left coaxing Octoboy to the door again. I asked him if he could wiggle the handle and to my pure relief he did. I then asked him to reach down and push the lock; I was ready to shove with all my might. I then heard that most wonderful sound of metal gliding on metal quick as a flash I grabbed him like a mother possessed, just as a non English speaking engineer came through the door. Putting as much distance between the room of horrors I tried to breath through my sobs.

Although Angus was out, I knew he was still in danger, the door had to be sorted before he was safe and this man I could not communicate with was going to be my hero. He picked up the phone and handed it to me and through my uncontrollable sobs I tried to explain to the main desk what had just taken place. I then handed the phone back. Comprehension and empathy erupted over his face and he hugged me with such compassion.

Sometimes words are not needed especially when emotion is shared.

This was nine years ago and today my Octoboy has gone missing and mostly forgotten. Today my boy is in constant pain. Over the last year or so there have been medical people that should know better and more informed tried to explain the mental state of my son. They tried to convince me the virus he had, had left him so he had forgotten or he did not want to live as he had. Now I tried to get my head around that and it was like watching one of the ugly sisters ram the glass slipper on her foot. It was never going to fit! What they described to me was their theory and not my reality.

It now makes me wonder about the mental state of our mental health providers. We need proper research into mental health, not sticky plasters over physical problems.They so wanted a theory to fit, they ruled out a physical component to my sons health. Unexplained physical symptoms are just that, that is to say the medical profession are just not able with their ability at the moment to figure it out, it does not mean to say we should blame the mind of the sufferer for the lack of knowledge of the medical profession. Perhaps all mental illnesses have a physical element and this need investigating.

If you understand the 80 or so autoimmune illness that have a devastating effect on people, then why cannot they believe in ME? what sort of dangerous situation are we heading for if we give physical control of the health of our nation to Psychiatric theories. Psychiatrists convinced the NHS that Cognitive Behaviour Therapy was a good idea for people suffering with ME. They came up with inappropriate research and trials. Now we have a fresh trial called Fitnet, the coverage has been extensive through the BBC as a treatment like no other they seem to gloss over the PACE trial fiasco. Yet since 2011 a connection has been made to the autoimmune system and ME. Reading the literature regarding Cognitive Behaviour Therapy there is a stark difference between the delivery and I would shameful.

James Gallagher in a radio four program Inflamed Mind sensitively tackles the subject of the autoimmune on psychosis, yet talking about ME he tells how the treatment will  change the way children think of the disease then tells how 'that some activists say that Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT) just treats the mind. He omits the fact that the World Health Organisation list ME under a neurological condition and immunoglobulin has been used with some promise around 2011 with ME. .

ME sufferers are so good at managing their pain and determined to be normal, that medical jargon can get away with saying they are fatigued. ME is about the whole body being affected in the most crippling way, not about fatigue. Psychiatrists can not understand or diagnose  PoTS ceolacs and if they could not tell that, why are we giving them control over our health service with regards ME? PoTS or some form of orthostatic intolerance (OI) along with PEM is two of the criteria and Fitnet does not include either. How can we trust them psychiatrists with our bodies when they just want to blame out thinking minds regardless of the ongoing evidence?

Inside my son even now there is Ocotboy meets monkey act waiting to burst out as soon as his body is able. On good days I can see them waiting in my sons eyes. He does not need CBT to get him better, he needs his condition understood and most important of all a cure. Psychiatrists prolong and mask the agony, they do not have the answers biomedical research does!

The sadness I feel looking at my child with hope that some part of his day will be enjoyable, I cannot describe. I reflect on those days I was stressed over the pile of washing powder, how he looked on top of the pile of books when he was young and I wonder who will take the responsibility over those who fall like my son?

Have I Wishful Attitude to Life or Just Plain Silly? A Tilly Moment Debate.

Having to get the car fixed can be a nightmare especially when you live a mile or so from the school and have a son like Angus who thinks it’s a joy to bike. Even better when your mum has to peddle and you’re left in charge of the dog. Both boy and dog love the ride, not for scenery and the serenity of the bike ride per say, but the fact that mum can’t see what you’re getting up-to.

Angus asked if we could take Tink on our unplanned bike ride. I could not think of a reason not too and said I would try to find something to put our little bundle of fun in. Angus said he could hold her, but I explained that this would be a little dangerous to do. The only thing I had that would keep Tinker in was one of the spare haversacks, it had two separate zips. So there was Tink, comfortably sitting in it with her head between the zips looking with anticipation at Angus; that should have been my warning! But as ever too busy to pay too much attention to the little details easily missed, I looked down at my improvisation with some degree of admiration of my ingenuity. Pride before a fall springs to mind here, will I ever learn!

Where do I get the ideas for these sorts of capers, time constraints and a wishful attitude to life, maybe? Though I don’t think a normal haversack is quite the thing to keep the dog in, on a bike, especially when your young son can; unknown to you undo the zip so that the dog can sit on his knee. Even so, I could have coped with all of this, if said son would sit still and was not as heavy as he is. The fact is he knocks my bike off balance at the most inconvenient moments and then there was the cat, mayhem is not good for your soul. Surely, a Tilly Moment if ever I heard one.

Now Angus is a little older I intend to buy one of those attachable links from adult to child bike. Now I reason, if Angus is so far away he couldn’t possible undo the zips. I did think about putting Tink in a basket at the front, either way I have a harness so she should be more contained. I’m not one for giving up even after a few mistakes is this because I have wishful attitude to life do you think or just plain silly?

Ironic that!

This Story is based on true facts but I’m not telling you which ones. The best thing about writing is that you can take a little of this and a little bit of that out of real life and add a little spice to make a whole new dish to devour; it is quite like cooking really. But in essence you have to have the ability to taste and have an imagination not to mention good ingredients to start with. So I would like to take this opportunity to thank my family who are the base of all the characters in this short story who have kindly given their consent and allow me to use them in my blog, bless them.

They play themselves in this Story and I have kept it as true as any writer of fiction can. My friends wonder what it would be like to read my work without knowing me so well and I must admit I do ponder on this too. I know I now have a following of people that I do not know and I welcome you all to the Tilly way of looking at things and hope you enjoy your time on my blog. I would also like to thank all my readers for their e-mails and taking the time to encourage me to keep going and taking the time to read my blog as without you reading there would be no reason for me to write. So with that in mind I humbly say thank you to you all x

Ironic that!

I lay quietly and drowsily reveling in the fact I didn’t have to get up, enjoying the autumn sun glowing through the curtains as it gently kissed my sleepy face. The heating was chasing the chill air out and I nuzzled into the soft pillow. The man beside me stirred and heavy with sleep he slid his arm around me like a boa constrictor and squeezed.

 “Are you pregnant?”

 Perplexed and dazed from my rude awakening my eyes flung open in a reflex action, “That’s not very nice!” I slapped him.

“What - no, I didn’t mean; I had a dream you were, we had to get a new car for the baby”

“ye, ye I’ve heard some excuses to buy a car, but because of a silly dream now that’s pretty lame, anyhow I’m not even late so how could you think such a thing.”

“Not sure” he shrugged.

It had taken us years to make the decision not to have anymore children. As our two now aged ten and eight got on so well, why rock the boat? I was forty and deemed by my ever-loving husband too old to have any more without complications, so this coming Friday was chop, chop day, for him. I eased up on him; maybe it was all playing on his mind. I got out of bed to make a cup of coffee for us, before he went off to work.

When he came down stairs he had a dreamy smile on his tired face.

‘Are you sure you want to go ahead on Friday’, I asked

‘Ye’! A frown covered up that enchanted smile he wears, so to bring it back on his face I said,

‘“Does my bum look big in this?’ Turning around in my over sized silk pjs I wiggled my toush, he affectionately patted it and gave a low rumbling growl of affection. In reality my bum was too big and heart shaped, but he never complained. We enjoyed spending the little time we had before he went to work. Now the children were older they slept in on Saturdays and it was lovely. As he turned to get into his van he smiled an odd sort of smile and I blew him a kiss.

I rushed upstairs to get ready like a little girl, I was excited. I’d taken on a part time job and managed to save enough money to get Kev a large larder fridge freezer for his fortieth. It had a drinks dispenser and I had made room in the shed for the old fridge to keep our ample stock of booze nicely chilled. I’d asked all our friends around for a surprise party for him and he had no idea. I’d just stepped out of the shower when Steve and Bob came through the door bringing in the larder fridge with them, as the children ran down the stairs to see if they could help, I marveled how grown up they were and how helpful they could be now. Everything went swimmingly, the ice was flowing and cold water on tap, a real treat. We all filled the fridges with the party food and drinks for later. When Steve and Bob left, the children and I decorated the living room out, it was great fun. We had finished by lunch time and nothing else needed to be done.

Axl’s was going off with a friend and as the car to take him had just arrived, he was putting on his shoes, when his friend came to the door he started taking off his. They were deep in conversation about play station games; just like any ten year olds the bubble of youth consumed them.

“Hey lads, both of you should be putting your shoes on” I smiled; a worn patient smile, that motherhood plants on your face. Their conversation stopped as both lads looked down and laughed at the pickle they had got them selves into. Now a balancing act pursued as they both propped each other up, while walking and talking to the car at the same time as putting on their shoes. They looked like little old men after too many jars. With a toot of a horn - they were gone. 

I called for Ellarose to get in the car but she was already there and waiting. We were going shopping and then lunch at the “Funny Mans” It was our nickname for our favorite place to eat. The owner made the best carrot cake and bagels and she loved the way he made her feel grown up by bantering with her and talking as if I weren’t there.

We had only been in town for a short while, but both of us had arms full of bags so off we trundled for our treat. As soon as we arrived he called out to his staff that a V.I.P had arrived and that a table had to be found, he winked at Ellarose and asked “The same as usual madam”, with a delighted giggle she nodded and grabbed hold of me for security and to hide her self consciousness.

As I sat there looking at my eight year old that had an outlook and attitude to life like an eighteen year old, I bloomed inwardly. My life was great. I could sit back and enjoy eating, discussing clothes with my daughter in a way my mother and me could never had done. My daughter told me I was beautiful and I should treat my self to the outfit I had just tried on; I held her close and kissed her on the top of her head and said

 “I won’t be able to do that much longer”

“Why?” She asked

 “Because you just keep growing and soon I won’t be able to reach, I keep telling you.” Before I cold finish my sentence she interrupted and with her not again sort of voice with a giggles attached, rolled her eyes with an embarrassed tinge that I find so enduring. She retorted back

“I know but I can’t help growing, can I!”

While we sat there enjoying the good food an idea for a little joke began to form. The whole idea of giving the fridge for Kev’s fortieth was to get him to chill and enjoy life; he was hardly going to do that if he was worrying that I was pregnant. So I’ll do a pregnancy test, show him the negative result and put a note on top of the beer to say “Told you, now enjoy and chill!”

When we got back home the kitchen looked clutter free and not it’s normal homely messiness. I just had enough time to get dressed before everyone arrived.  I took one last look around my quiet house and a surge of contentment thrilled me. I had two beautiful children who were quickly turning into teenagers, I had a part time job I enjoyed; which meant freedom; both time wise and financially. I ran up stairs with glee to check Ellarose had got ready and then started to get ready myself.

By the time Kev had got in and had a shower. I’d had a very large Pims so little giggles kept escaping like bubbles in the air. I rushed him along by saying we had to be out by seven. He had commented on how tidy and quiet the house was, but hadn’t noticed the large fridge freezer, which made me giggle more. I’d just put a little note on the now chilled beer, when another giggle escaped and I smiled a big warm smile. I then remembered I hadn’t done the pregnancy test yet. I ran up stairs and into the on-suite and performed the deed while he finished off getting dressed. But it was I that the last laugh fell upon. I shrieked out

 “Fuck, Bugger” I fell to the floor. He was soon there to find my crumpled form in a limp state.

 “What have you done now’? His bewildered question had no answer as I could not admit any sound from my tightened throat. I could not breathe the feeling of sickness too great.

I held up the test. He held me close and laughed. I looked up at his face in horror to look into a face that was barren of concern or worry but full of the love of a father.

‘I’ve ruined everything I cried’

By the time our guests arrived for his Birthday Party, Kev had calmed me down and was having a ball, telling everyone; while supplying everyone proudly with nicely chilled drinks, of my little joke that back fired and how his intuition was better than mine. We laughed and enjoyed the party but we both knew what this baby would mean. The lack of sleep, no more time together, relaxed eating out a thing of the past, the list was endless. I had to smile though; the joke was, ironically very funny, chill! You gotta be kidding!