Parallel Universe Part2



A Short Story to go with your coffee

Ian who had made it to the door was greeted with.

‘Hello dad where’s my mum!’

Accusation or statement it was hard to tell. Ian’s mothers face was trying to catch up with her thoughts and she looked down at me with accusations and miss understandings flying from her eyes like a blame seeking missile.

Sophie stood there and you could almost hear the cogs turn her thoughts. Her face set on questions and connotations made as her grandmother was taking in how she could best manipulate the situation to her advantage.

Meeting each other for the first time, Granddaughter squared up to Grandmother both looking as though they were choosing their weapons. Sophie had the advantage as her defence could be used as a weapon. Somehow I pitied her grandmother but not enough to stop the shoot out, after all I had a ring side seat.

Because of my daughter there were a few things I would’ve loved to ask and never would, a lot I wanted to say but couldn’t, sometimes the sacrifices are hard as a mother. I was hoping the long talks we had had about my other life and finding her farther gave us a good foundation of understanding each other. So as the battle began my fingers, legs and toes were all crossed.

Francesca stood with her indignant upper-class distain oozing from her face and her passive aggressive nature turned to max. Sophie visibly braced herself, not with the teenage angst of earlier that morning but a growing experience supporting her strong determined youthful face. It was Francesca’s undoing to try to intimidate my daughter. Choosing the love of a new family as her weapon of choice was a silly mistake and Sophie rebuffed it, she wasn’t going to miss something she never had, now was she! But her attach on me acted more like a sharp boomerang she was incapable of catching.

‘Why has your mother never bothered to tell us about my granddaughter?’

Ian moved forward to deflect the verbal blow, but Sophie held up her hand to them both, new dad and auntie she was in this fight on her own. I held the cushion ready to duck behind, this was not going to be pretty I could tell by Sophie’s locked jaw and the intent stare the hunter was about to be hunted! Thrilling and sickening all at the same time, I waited with heart pounding.

‘The day my mum found out she was pregnant with me she came to you for support. She had just found your son in bed with her look alike’ Oh that hurt, I could feel the rebound from all three of them. The brutal truth hit them all at once. As they came back from the recoil she metaphorically hit a left jab thrusting and lifting their upper jaws to a pursed lip position.

‘My mum could have pleaded for you to listen, but you, without a thought, told her your son was better off without her. Her pleads would have been futile.’ Ian looked over to me; I hadn’t put it quite so brutally. Did he deserve the truth? Well Sophie thought so.

‘If she had asked for help’ her voice was now grown up and authoritative as though she was some psychologist reporting on an issue. ‘She would’ve been beholden to you’ calmly each statement was delivered. ‘Your disrespect brought about you being ostracized from me, at least until my mum thought I could cope with the rejection.’

‘I would never have rejected you.’ Pleading and appalled played to perfection for the most effect a sympathy vote but Francesca pained face made no impact on Sophie.

‘But you did, you rejected my mum!’

And for your information my mum didn’t just throw herself at the next available man, she loved my dad too much for that.’ Looking over to Ian, who to be fair was coming to terms with a daughter in his life quite well. ‘Oh no, she met her responsibility and concentrated her whole life on me. In fact if I hadn’t set her up with Bill she would have never had another man cluttering up her life.’ Sophie intercepted the next blow from ever leaving Francesca’s lips ‘and for your information he didn’t leaver her by choice… she paused for effect and for her grandmother’s one sided thoughts to catch up ‘He died!’ I didn’t tell Ian that either. Gasps were let out as the gut punch made impact. ‘Bill was a proper dad, he thought of me, of mum, of us! You have a lot to live up to and a lot to make up for if you want to be any part of my life.’

She turned to me as if I was the child and she the parent who had to tell of the hardship of life. ‘He has to be part of it mum, he exists now!’ I knew what she ment, for a long time now she had thought of him as this mythical character, a one sided person who lived in a story that I told her when she asked me too. I had to sever a little of the umbilical cord that held us together. Another frightening snip towards not needing me for her life support but just for advice, whether she took it or not was now her decision alone.

‘The thing is I have to make up my mind what I want from our relationships.’ My eyes and ears rang out with her word structure. ‘You see I have a little brother and we all come as a package.’ My heart pounded with their meaning- this I was not prepared for.

There was a kafuffle going on at the door again. I heard Henry’s little voice and a mellow humoured voice full of apologies over not being able to keep the little fellow any longer from his mum. Henry hugged me and peaking from beneath my arm he asked a simplistic question of Ian.

‘Are you going to be my new daddy? My daddy left me. He went over the rainbow to heaven. He can see me but he won’t come back. I miss flying my kite.’

What a mess my life is, I looked down with my burning eyes.

‘Sorry mum but you’re no good at kite flying. Dad said you’re better at dancing like the kite than flying one. But that was our secret.’

He embarrassingly buried his head in my chest while a rally of giggles rang out.

‘How are you mum, he muffled.’

‘I’m fine and dandy I whispered in his ear.’ He giggled his comfort giggle.

‘Well we have to go,’ Sophie looked at me coming over to cuddle us.’ I suggest you stay and have a well earned rest mum. You and Ian can thrash out how you feel but my mind will not change. He can bring you back home tomorrow and then we could get to know each other. We need help with getting ready for Christmas at least he could do is help me with that! But I don’t want to see you gran until I get to know my dad on my own’. Then down at her aunty Zara ‘and if you don’t mind I’ll give you a call when I’ve got my head around it all.’

David came in his face had a satisfied look about it with admiration. As Sophie bent down to kiss me goodbye she whispered.

‘How did I do mum? David was listening in on the phone so he could make sure we were ok. It was his idea for you to stay so you could talk about it all. Will you be OK?’

‘I’ll be fine and dandy.’

As they walked out the door though I wasn’t so sure, I was tired, in pain and had to explain/defend my life to people who I didn’t know anymore.

 My life was really shitty!

Parallel Lives

I do love a good start to a morning when the teenager in your life just grunts at you and dismisses you as one of the low life’s in their life that have to be tolerated. I stand slightly amused by the angst of teenagisum. Their new place in the world is uncomfortable, building into a fever pitch of anger the perpetrator unsure to why this boiling feeling is erupting, so it must be mums fault.

Lost books and fights with hair, just too much to keep hold of her sanity finally it all fell in tears and then came the frustration stage of self pity. I breathe a calming intake of patience and we make it to the car. I wanted to hug her but was afraid of the prickles that had been sharpened on that self pity. Henry shouted his love for her as she made her way to school and as she turned and smiled her humanity came back and sunshine hit her face. We seized our opportunity and ran, Henry needed a hug and so did I.

All the balance of life came back and we made it to the playground to line up. Just as I was getting a grasp on the day Henry got knocked over and ripped his trousers. He began to scream for England with the enthusiasm of an Olympic hopeful. He hates wearing other people’s clothes so it wasn’t very helpful when the Teachers Assistant came striding over and with authority told Henry, he will have to go and find a pair out of the spare clothes box. Henry’s horrified expression brought out the mother in me and I stared at the TA in that universal motherly way and she backed off. Luckily I had a couple of pairs of trousers I was bringing to the school that were getting a little small for Henry so disaster was averted and he went in, being kissed by his latest girlfriends.

My day carried on in this vein and by pickup time I was in no mood to think what I should cook for the evening meal so hurrying off to the supermarket to pick out what we fancied, I braced myself for the arguments it was about to cause. But to my astonishment they were talking, chatting, laughing and agreeing what they would have to eat. A flood of friends and acquaintances stopped and chatted and by checkout I was refreshed from my topsy tervy day.

The children had loaded everything onto the conveyer belt and I noticed the few additions, they looked at me pleading with those eyes that pull at your heart and taking full advantage of my momentary weakness, Henry ran off to get desert. Sophie’s eyes danced at mine and she offered to go and see what he wanted and not to worry she would make sure it didn’t cost too much.

Absentmindedly I looked up along the rows of shoppers unloading their trolleys and loading their bags with the rhythm that it causes, when I noticed a face looking back at me. Instantly I coloured at the intent gaze I was receiving and I knew I should know the face but could not place it.

Time stood in limbo as my mind filtered my history the assistant chatted as I searched my memory banks for the place or name the face belonged to but I just couldn’t place it. I paid for the shopping and turned to leave perturbed by the stare that followed me. Against my will I looked up and met those eyes that looked intently and instantly it dragged my memory to a parallel universe of my life. Two lives that once had been so close and that shared so much together now live totally separately. I looked across at what could have been my destiny. I never really understood why our marriage failed.

As the children come over Henry asks if he has to take back desert beings I had finished paying for the shopping. I smile down at the little fellow and I give him some money to go on self service. Forgetting the edge of frayed younger me that man had caused I brought myself back to my parallel universe, my now reality. Skipping and dancing Henry went with the money and with his sisters help paid and picked up the change running back to me with his accomplishment.

I could feel those eyes follow our every move, unnerved I checked my appearance in the window, not a great look when meeting your ex. But as we tumbled out of the store I had forgotten the other me that other life and we danced and smiled as sweets were held aloft and shopping bundled in the car. The children settled in their seats reading their magazines as I took the trolley back, thinking of the wine I had waiting nicely chilled and the book that I promised I would make time for. Friday night was going to be my night when an old gentleman pushed his trolley into my ankle that then hit the screw that impaled my leg onto the side of the trolley shelter.

His strength my flesh that impact. I stood there leg suspended on a two inch piece of metal wondering what I should do, feeling slightly sick. Children, dogs, book wine came tumbling down on me and the tears began to fall a small but significant ‘bugger’ left my lips and danced on the chilly Christmas air just as the charity organ began to play ‘We Wish You A Merry Christmas’.

A deep and hefty sigh mingled with my resolve and when I looked up to the voice that had indignation and asked me none too politely to move.

‘I can’t you have just clamped my leg to the screw’

Sore the blood bubbled, popped and spilled down my leg. I hadn’t eaten all day and I began to swoon. I’m a bit of “a woose” when it comes to blood anyhow. A face older than I remembered and sadder in the eyes, looked attentively into mine. So there I was impaled as our parallel lives collided into one again. A vortex of emotions flashbacks of happenings that had been my reality but felt like a whole different universe now and unrecognizable to the life I now lead.

As he held my leg gently he organised someone to ring for an ambulance, I could hear his voice, calming, gentle not like it was the last rime I heard it. I looked around at the bubbled and floating faces and found a friend who immediately came to my side. Our eyes locked helping me to focus on my reality pushing the fuzzy mixture of thought and wondering away.

‘Carol could you take the children and ice-cream out of the car and keep them safe?’

‘Will do’ she smiled ‘I’ll keep the ice-cream and the children safe.’ She quickly scanned the scene assessing and taking in what needed to be done with her efficient and caring way that comes so easily to her.

‘I’ll ring David and he can pick them up and I’ll come with you.’ We could hear the siren and she made her way to the children so they wouldn’t panic.

Ian looked at me and the years fell away crossing the parallels making one life sphere. Time, space, life, how strange it all is I thought as the paramedic pumped me full of pain relief that gave my mind more clouds of fluffy haze. They had me wrapped up and seated in their stretcher thing before I realised that my foot was free. My mouth muscles refused to work and I had to think how to speak as Henry asked what was happening. A picture of his worried face freeze framed. He had seen this scene before when his dad had died of a heart attack not even a year ago.

‘Henry they gave me wibbly wobbly medicine so they could take my foot off’ He screamed

‘Off the wire silly’ Sophie explained

‘You look like daddy, mummy’ my stomach lurched.

‘She’s just had an accident Henry; I promise she’ll be fine now. Let the paramedics take her so they can x-ray her foot then she can have a plaster on like the one they put on Izzy. Then she can come home’ Carol explained while holding his hand.

‘What to day?’

‘Maybe tomorrow, that means you will have to have a sleep over with Izzy. That revived him and his worry melted away into an excited adventure (he had never had a sleep over).

Sophie weakly smiled across at me not daring to come for a hug as she knew I would break down and cry. Ian went over to her and they talked. She nodded several times and looked down at me, wide eyed and sympathetic and blew me a kiss and then Carol took the children away so their backs were turned as they put me into the ambulance.

Slight panic (which was all I could muster with the drugs they had given me) as I realised I was on my own when Ian jumped into the ambulance too. I didn’t know which was the worst, being on my own or joined by the ex-husband of fifteen years ago that had never met his daughter and didn’t know she existed. My life was a bit of a shit really.

After all the kafuffle of x-rays doctors and such a splint was put on until the swelling had gone down and a more permanent plaster could be applied. The screw had chipped the bone a little and because it was on the Lateral Malleolus (the sticky out bit of the outside of my ankle) no weight could be put on it as the screw had acted a little like a chisel.

Like I said- my life is a little bit of a shit! A week till Christmas and the kids presents to buy and I’m going to be stuck in plaster. Now I was being held captive by my ex-husband who promptly took me to his home. He now lived five miles from my house. He had sussed that Sophie was his; hardly surprising as she resembled me very little and was a dead ringer for Ian’s little Sister and his mother.

He sat me down in his comfy sofa and elevated my leg as advised by the doctors and asked if I would like a coffee, beings I could not drink with the pain killers  I accepted but felt that I could have done with a little balmy juice and thought of the wine chilling in my fridge. Forlorn I looked around and on a wall a collage of faces hung prominent and proud taking up most of the wall with a beautiful frame of glass and enamel. Before I could focus on it more Ian strode in with coffee for me and a whisky and coffee for him. Like I keep saying, my life is Shit! I could have done with that whisky!

He talked after he downed the whisky giving me time to collect my thoughts and I was grateful of it. He slowly took me through his life and explained about the picture that had won many awards and many commissions for his work. He was and always had been an exceptional photographer.

All the women he had ever had a relationship with were versions of me not just in looks but in likes and thinking. Was he trying on every version of myself until he found the combination that he enjoyed…… liked……. Needed……..Loved? He still hadn’t found her his eyes were too sad for that to be true. As I looked through all the pictures it was amazing how different and yet almost the same people can look. We had been consumed by this idea when young and in-love. The idea that we are not as unique as we like to think our selves that there are copies of us all over the world or the universe. This idea wrapped around us, consumed us and in the end destroyed us. I had found him in bed, in our perfect home with one such look alike.

Those raw feelings floated around me but didn’t get inside me as they once had. They glided over my skin prickled the surface then abated. He was as gently as he possible could have been under the circumstances, trying to explain his behaviour that night. It was all so insignificant to me, what had been had been what it had ment to me no longer was and his life no longer my concern. Why he thought it was, dumbfounded me a little. But it gave me time to think through the ramifications for Sophie and the knock on effect for Henry. Sophie was intelligent and articulate and knew the truth as I had lived it and saw it. I’m not sure he would survive her altercations on the subject. Her debating and confrontation technique had me running for shelter and I was use to her barrage of self-truths. His reasoning of his search for his art would be used against him and knowing that soon the meeting I most feared was upon me I was not going to give him any shield to protect himself with or advice to help him through it.

He then broached the subject of Sophie and why I had not told him about her. With my eyebrows raised in disbelief I reminded him of the day I walked in our home and immediately knew something was wrong. I spared him no detail that his mind had forgotten. I took him through the events through my eyes and thoughts. How I grappled with the deceit from the one person who I thought I could trust and how the word love had become a farce for me.

To his credit he listened with intent and never interrupted, focusing on his hands rubbing his wedding ring that he still wore on his tallest finger on his right hand. When asked I told him what had happened when I went to see his mother when I found out I was pregnant to let her know and to find out where he had gone. How, before I could broach the subject she had explained it was all for the best our break up and never gave me time to explain the true reason for my visit. How after that day of immense hurt I decided they had given up all rights of knowing Sophie. I thought I had been loved as a member of their family and found out that I had only been tolerated. His face was bleak and ashen with the other side of events he had never contemplated before of hurts never imagined. And as I looked down at my vibrating phone the message came ‘on my way x’

I knew he would eventually ask to see her and I didn’t want a preconceived meeting with time to make the best impression for her. He looked at my hand then on to my mobile and then at me.

‘Did you need to ring them to tell them how it went?’

‘I’ve text already, they know!’

Noises and laughter outside the back door as it was flung open I could hear bags of shopping and for the first time considered if he was living with someone, had children. Women’s voices came out to greet him and he strode out to meet them.

I looked around the house, a women’s influence danced around but was not in-control. Again it was spookily similar to my tastes. Of all the people I though who would walk into the room I was not prepared for his mum and his sister. His sister was beaming and came over and sat next to me and I could not get over the similarity of my little girl staring back at me as a grown woman. Then as I looked up the grown woman turned into a pensioners face. To say it freaked me out was a little of an understatement and just as I caught my breath a knock at the door announced the arrival of Sophie. Oh this was going to be fun!

Tilly Moments: Health and Safety in the Writing Room

Tilly Moments: Health and Safety in the Writing Room: I should come with a health warning. I contemplate this as I look out of the office window and consider my predicament while trying to focus...

Health and Safety in the Writing Room

I should come with a health warning. I contemplate this as I look out of the office window and consider my predicament while trying to focus. Taking in the ramifications of such an innocent manoeuvre, I’m astounded at the damage that I've caused. All I did was pivot on my seat while trying to roll closer to the bin and lean; that was the fatal error, I leant between the spokes at the bottom of my office chair.

The fall was in slow motion but the ‘shit, shit, bugger, bugger’ was in rapid fire. I bumped my head on the way down on the corner of the small metal filing cabinet. One arm is now in the broken plastic wastepaper bin, where I had thrown the troublesome short story. I had fallen on a stacked pile of box files that had crumpled under my weight. The irksome chair spindle with its rotating wheel had trapped itself on the desk I was sitting at and the angle of the seat made it impossible for me to move. The arm of the chair dug deep into my rib cadge and the only thing I could think of was how ugly my legs were! They’re like ham hocks, I thought.

With every move I tried to make, came more pain and clearly I’m in shock as silly thoughts whizzed around my dizzy head. It had been a long-long time since I had a fall. Now I understand why old people get so anxious about being unsteady, it is undignified, painful and as you get older and less agile, slower to recover. My husband and I share the office space and his desk was trapping me by the draw I had opened to take the paper out to load in the printer. So I turned to the left and even though my face was being squashed into the box files and my ribcage complained, I wriggled to try to get a grip of anything. My head was down my bum was taking flight and my little legs were scrabbling to get a grip but to no avail, they spluttered and I collapsed.  A quick round of expletive fire shot from my mouth, muffled by the paper debris spread underneath me on the floor.

I now found that the chair was wedging me against the velux window on the sloping ceiling and as looked out the blackbird looked in, with bemusement or pity I couldn’t really tell. But enough resolve surged through me and like the Hulk I emerged from the fragments of my novels.  Triumphant I went to have a coffee, nursing my several bruises, scrapes and aches.

I do suffer for my art!

My husband's reaction to this was 'Oh you fell of the chair then! Why didn't you just put that.'

Perhaps I should've, who really wants to know about my antics?

Password security on the internet?

I am a forty something mother of three and one of your constituents. I use facebook and so do my kids. We look at each others facebook and enjoy the fun side but give each other enough respect not to interfere with how it is used. I am banned from commenting on their facebooks. And although everyone tells me that kids these days know everything about the internet, I know this not to be true, no one can and you can only catch up with hackers not run in-front of them and stop their sick games.
Hackers can get onto your facebook and much more if you use the same password for everything or use a simple one. These days you need a secure place to keep your passwords but how can you be sure the sites that advertise these facilities are safe and why are our schools not teaching our children this very basic safety issue as a general piece of information, we teach our children to cross the roads to keep them safe why not the basics of internet saftey?

When the person who sets up the facebook account has died a hacker has been going around putting unsavoury pictures and comments on. The police are unable to help and facbook needs its members to act, which is not easy to do if you have been shocked or unable to respond. This problem would not arise if all internet users were aware of the simple steps it takes to protect their social networks. Government are increasingly making us use the internet to fill out forms, Vat and passports to name a few things we are encouraged to do on line. We need a gold badge standard of safe sites that we can promote on our social network, which will remind us to do the same in every interaction with the internet. Scams are making a lot of money out of us.

A girl in our town died this week in-front of her friends and ever since her facebook has had tributes and a hacker from Canada put a picture of a girl with her face missing on facebook.  Children and parents all over the network have been affected by this as the facebook principle is to share.
I know there are sick people and the internet enables them to infiltrate our moments and space on this wonderful technology but it does not have to be this way, with careful planning and with the right knowledge. I want to teach my children and myself how to take control. The problem is who do I trust? How do I know how to trust on the internet? How can I look safely for the needle of information in the haystack of technology?

Schools use this technology but on the whole do not know how to simply protect themselves let alone be able to converse with their students about internet security. We teach our children to cross the roads safely, why do we not tech them how to take simple steps to control their space on the internet.

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!