HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS, FRIED OR POACHED?

I wrote this short story after a couple of conversations I had with family, friends and with a lady waiting in a doctors surgery. That chance meeting - fleeting though it may have been, thought provoking most definitely, made me smile and keeps me smiling. 

I hope this story does that for you too.

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"Now there are some things you just have to learn to live with, Esmay my girl!” I told myself as I did a double take at my reflection in the mirror – I was bemused by my altered shape. A mound of clothes lay on the bed, I’d tried the whole of my wardrobe on.

The very attractive surgeon had given me perfect poached egg boobs that suited my hips, and made me look in proportion. I’d taken a bit of convincing, the double mastectomy wouldn’t make much difference to me really I had thought. How wrong I was. Clothes flattered my shape now. It was pleasingly different, and I was glad I had taken his thoughtful advice. Was it all worth it at the age of sixty though? Soon to be wrinkled up, and too decrepit to move, let alone strut my stuff. I laugh at my own silliness as I strike poses in the mirror.  Was I sixteen or sixty, I sometimes wondered.

Was it God or my parent’s genes that had given me fried eggs as boobs, no it was Mother Nature having a laugh! Nature had a habit of rubbing salt into sore wounds. I would watch as they filled out when I was breast feeding to a lovely D cup, I liked Dave’s face when he saw them. I was always hopeful they would stay that way, but they deflated like balloons afterwards, looking not dissimilar to tassels on a stripper. For months afterwards I would mope around and my ego and libido would be as flat as my chest.

Now the artificial ones protruded from my body, disconnected, and I wondered if they would ever feel part of me. They looked good though, all dressed up and perky. That salt rubbed a little deeper when I think how Dave would have liked the look of them too. This new life of having a body shape I liked, without a husband to show it off to was just plain sad. He didn’t like the idea of me getting implants, but it’s now one of my life’s biggest regrets, we could’ve had a lot of fun with them. Now they were just for show, that sort of fun was a thing of the past for me.

Why had I agreed to go to this blooming dinner party? I close my eyes before I walk out of my cocooned sanctuary, and taking my resolve I set out to do battle once again with life and this new reality of mine. Kaz would not take no for an answer, if I tried to hide she would find me, if I found a plausible excuse not to attend she would dismiss it, so I might as well get it over with. She is my closest friend, support and my foundation. Full of life, fun and a great cook, a goddess, but was that going to be enough I wondered, as I walked the familiar path.

“It’s just the normal crowd they’ll help you through it. You’ll be fine.” Her voice popped in my head. I trusted her judgment, but I didn’t trust myself. I hope I wasn’t going to let her down. “You won’t let me down” she had earnestly told me. But I’ve lost the ability to keep my bitter sharp acid to myself, I was sure it would slip from my thoughts to my lips without any provocation. I had once prided myself on the empathy I could give, now I felt so sorry for myself, and I couldn’t endure my condescending attitude to others misfortunes, now that I understood the meaning of misfortune.

Pulling hard on my bootstraps I rang her doorbell.

            “You look stunning Esmay.” Vincent was honest and straightforward, so I knew he meant it, it wasn’t just a pleasantry. I smiled at him as he handed me a large glass of my favourite wine. He took me by the shoulders and squeezed as his wonderful reassuring eyes gave me strength, and his gentle kiss gave me warmth.

The familiar good natured chatter filtered through to the hall and called me to join them. I hesitated but Vincent, with his supportive hand in the middle of my back guided me into their kitchen. Kaz was cooking lamb, and an explosion of aromas hit my taste buds that did a little jig of joy. She floated over with appetizers. A one arm hug held me with love and I felt drained and just wanted to crumple to the floor. Vincent topped up my wine, and I ate an olive. They were such an attractive couple, I smiled as my heart dropped – I had been like that not so long ago.

People mingled through the large homely elegant space, and out to the garden. Like feathery wavelets, they parted and quietly babbled, eyes avoiding me in kindness. Each dear friends face, trying to control the emotion within. I kissed them, releasing the confines of empathy to a much easier to breath normality.  I joined in the babble, catching up with what I had missed.

I caught glimpses of a new face that moved amidst the familiar ones. Questions he was answering with his caustic politeness pulled at me, compelling me to listen. His voice – that was mellow and smooth had self depravation lingering in his undertones, a humour that I warmed to, and understood. Kaz stood in front of me and comically the striking man bent his head round, so he could keep eye contact with me. I broke the connection as Kaz offered another olive. I took it and looking past her, took a bite. He smiled a warm inviting smile, I focused back on Kaz. She was assessing how I was doing, happy with my progress. She looked over to where my eyes were being drawn to, we looked into each other, she smiled, winked, and offered another plump black olive.

Dave would say “offer Esmay a glass of crisp chilled white wine, with olives and you will see the lighter, sensual side of her come out to play.” I shook my head at her as our broadening smiles became mirror images.

            “His name is Albie, but don’t hold that against him.” I roll my eyes

            “How could I with a name like Esmay.” we both giggle, she touches my arm. I notice he’s making his way over to us. With sheer panic rising I grab Kaz and say a little too loudly

            “Sure I’ll give you a hand.” Albie’s eye’s narrow as I propel Kaz over to the oven.

            “You girls ok?” Vincent pours yet another large glass of wine for me.

            “She has clocked Albie, but run out on him.”

            “You two have set me up.” I accuse.

            “No we wouldn’t do a thing like that would we Vinnie.”

Vincent’s deep chuckle gave the game away. You have to love friends that care and I bit my lip hard. I roll my eyes and take a large sip, well more of a gulp.

            “The starter is ready people, go sit.” Kaz announces so I wouldn’t have time to retort.

She had sat Albie and me opposite each other on purpose, no doubt. We could access each other better that way. I knew how her mind worked, and she knew I would take full advantage of it. I was in the process of doing just that, when I got caught out by his penetrating stare. His jaw was resting on his thumb, as his index finger stroked from ear down to jaw in pondering strokes. It was sensual and provocative. I decided – or rather the olives and wine had, not to flinch at his perusal, but to give him the same consideration. I’m glad I did, for his eyes mellowed, seeping out their secrets, and humour.

Those plump black olives with their hint of chilli, readied your mouth for the caramelised goats cheese squares that Kaz had lovingly laid down for us. Albie’s eyes closed as the flavours devoured him. I found it very pleasing to watch.

I was in trouble again, he had noticed my intense gaze, and was now just as intently watching me, making me more aware; if that was possible, of my new appendages. I wasn’t used to having a cleavage. Every time I looked down all I could see were my boobs it seemed. My spatial awareness was a little off kilter too, and as I past my plate, I knocked the knife off with one of them.

I had recovered by the time the next course was placed in front of me. Nonchalantly I started to cut the soft succulent slow cooked lamb, the aroma of which danced a pirouette with the roast potatoes and lush deep gravy. Normally there would  be nothing getting in the way when cutting food either, but the still soar and bigger boobs made lifting the fork to mouth difficult. Food had to take a different path now, and raised the perplexing question of – should I go around and over the top, or underneath and through the middle. Childishly I was amused by the challenge, and I felt the wine take effect and a giggle escaped.

I let the conversation skip past me; it seemed to the annoyance of Albie, who obviously wanted to know who this mad woman was. Without being introduced and across the table from, he felt decorum didn’t permit him to intrude, which amused me even more. I shouldn’t have had those naughty olives with the wonderful wine; this combination always had a frivolous effect on me. Dave was right and Kaz knew what she was doing. Should I care? “Oh no, we think not!” said the wine and olives together.

Craig, bless him thought everyone knew about my circumstances as we were among old friends, forthright as ever, loudly stated from the other end of the very large table.

            “Looking good Esmay”, He made a schoolboys gesture with his squeezing hands in-front of his chest. “They suit you!” A sharp kick from his wife, and a held anxiety rippled around the table. I let out a forgiving giggle, which made the smile come back on Craig’s loveable face, and with relief let the tension go from everyone.

I really didn’t blame him, but as I looked at Albie his preconceived ideas stung like a bunch of nettles given to me as a bouquet. The tangible tension made every eye around the table go in our direction.

            “Men get motorbikes as a midlife crisis, women it seems get facelifts or new boobs” Albie’s disappointment gave out a stunned silence that looked sympathetically at me, which I answered in my new caustic way.

            “I thought with my new improved boobs I’d get a couple of tattoos, I expect you disapprove of them too?”

            “Depends what they are I suppose.” His eyes challenged mine. I waited until he took a good sip of his smooth red wine, before I answered him.

            “Well next week I’ll be getting tattooed nipples to go with my reconstructed boobs, do they count?” He spluttered and Kaz gave him a napkin. He was gracious with his reply.

            “Beats love ‘n’ hate, which is what I’ll be getting across my arse for that, I’m sorry I should’ve thought.”

            “You’re forgiven. I don’t know why the surgeon took it upon himself to give me pert poached ones instead of my flat fried ones. As far as I can see they only get in the way.” An eruption of laughter went through the dinner party. “He assured me though they would balance out my hips as nature should’ve intended. He didn’t tell me they take a bit of getting used to.”

            “They do, what I mean is not getting used to as I wouldn’t know, but balance out your hips” for the first time Albie smiled his true and honest smile, the one that people have hidden most of the time. It was glorious and heart warming.

            “Are you saying I’ve got big hips?” feigned upset hit my voice just at the right note.

            “Sorry big foot, and even bigger mouth, I’m not forgiven then?”

            You’re forgiven… but I think I should make you suffer a little. What is so wrong with enhancing them anyhow? I could’ve done with my D cup when my husband was alive, life would’ve been a lot more fun.”

            “My wife enhanced hers and died of cancer three years later, that was not fun.”

            “My husband died of testicular cancer without enhancements… at least I don’t think he had any that wasn’t much fun either, and well look what happened to me. Mother nature is a fickle.”

            “Woman.”

            “You got me on that one.” Breath held at our combined misfortunes,the black humoured tête-à-tête suspended our friend’s faces in contorted silenced laughs, until we released them with our own. The ripples of which eased the subject matter, unrestricting the concerns we all felt, and the opinions we all held. Twisting and turning those opinions altering their course.

            “Well Esmay, which do you prefer?”

            “Life is such a bitch Craig, what can I say, I’ve always hated fried eggs, much prefer poached. I made do for years; much good that did me. Now Dave said he preferred fried, but I wasn’t convinced. He always asked for two poached eggs on Sunday mornings.” The ironic innuendo made me laugh “now I’ve got them I don’t know what to do with them, but like you said they look good.” and I rose my glass in a salute, Albie made it a toast though.

            “Fried or poached, you have to love them.”

THE END

WHAT A DREAM CLOUD

There is something rather nice about sharing nibbles, a pot chilli, and nachos with free flowing wine and conversation. Children and young adults can put you in your place and give you a perspective rarely thought of when nearing your fifties. Everyone without exception should revisit their younger self and dream on a cloud from time to time.

This evening after a rather fraught week my children, friends and relatives reminded me of the cloud floating time in my youth. You see I love riding motor bikes (fine weather only) I love the way it opens your senses and encourages you to float with your minds free thoughts.

I’m eclectic in taste and frame of mind. So riding down to Kent bike show one year I was looking forward to the diverse experience and decided to camp, but not to rough it totally. Kev thought he hit the jackpot when I jumped at the chance of going to this roughty toughty wet-t-shirt consumed two day show. A two man tent was his only concession he thought, I thought a double air-bed was in order and a change of clothes. Have you ever tried to get a double air-bed in a two man tent, or a change of clothes in panniers? Well from experience let me tell you it is not easy with either. Take the air bed in a two man tent, when you have the damned thing in place it bulges out the sides and pulls down the top so the canvas touches your nose. It was hilarious at the time but reliving it with people who see me only as upstanding mother of three –it was sublime.

View points and opinions of me changed, shifted and (most pleasing of all) broke. Lack of money and extra responsibility really do make you a two dimensional character.

This coming year I hope to take my bike test (just don’t tell Kev, the thought of me riding his Harley will fill him with fear) and ride once more the rolling hills on my own bike. But is this just a dream, one of those floating clouds of thought that just pour down in responsibility, until that very fine and beautiful cloud disintegrates. I do hope not, I want to be that three dimensional character, effervescent, and all floaty person I used to be.

What floaty dream cloud do you have, that frothy bit of your character that you hide from responsibility? don't be shy share it with us.

The Joy of Her

A while ago a very dear friend wanted some help writing down a story that contained her thoughts. She had cared for her mum through her illnes and as often happens when someone you love and depend on leaves you - so many emotions curl you up into a tight ball of sorrow, called grief.

Like the roses here (taken from Pearl's garden) as the tight buds opened up the beauty wrapped within the flowers uncurled, you could see the love blosom.

The Joy of Her

I see the joy of my mum in roses, her gentle ways, the way she wrapped us up in petals of love but I don’t think she knew how to nurture us as she nurtured her garden. I think that was our gift to her.
 
She was brought up in a time when no encouragement was deemed necessary I suppose, but it would have been nice to have heard the words ‘you did good!’ I sort of took it personally until I decided to plant the rose bush in celebration of her joy. I got to thinking; which is probably my problem of over analysing life, it’s the times we live in I think. We have to be accountable for each action we give a child these days, not the same for mum. She just wanted a family, it was enough and I guess we didn’t have to achieve to make her happy and being proud just wasn’t her thing, giving love was more my mum’s style.

As I dig the hole to bury the strong roots of the rose bush I have chosen and as I look at them I see my foundation from which my family has grown. Each branch strong and sturdy with shoots of beauty ready to flourish if I tend to them. It was then I understood why she loved gardening and arranging flowers so much. Lovingly you put everything you have into it, and at a distance – you admire. With us it was the same she watered and fed us, our every needs were met, and not until now – as my hands feel the earth have I given it a thought. She nurtured her grandchildren because she could not love them as she had us. She had to stand back and enjoy her love blooming through us to our kids. God I hope I can learn that lesson – how to back off and let my boys grow, enabling them to find their own roots so they too can bloom.

She had an acceptance in life that many of us take a lifetime to try to achieve, scholars spend decades trying to reach the Zen like state she found so easy. I’m not sure how deep the resentment of that quality goes actually. She had a profound inability to tell us off as children, I saw it as a weakness that always ended in laughter. Through her illness – that took her away from us bit by bit, she refused to try to understand it. That simplistic acceptance made me so angry at times. I now see it as a strength I envy.

Cooking, being with her family, holidays to Portugal, playing cards was her enjoyment but it was the looks and words she gave her grandchildren that was her joy. It’s what I miss the most and as I stand back and look on at all the rose bushes that glisten in the summers rain, for the first time I can see my glory. So why am I so angry? I have so often thought about this while in my garden tending my flowers and I think it was because I never told her or allowed myself to see it…. that I have finally seen and understood what she saw so clearly…. my beauty.

To Pearl and her family

X

I hope you  agree she did 'do good' and I'm very proud of her. Lots of love

Suffolk County Council The Stealth Bombers of the Education System

With the news of the bankers breaking all around us it is hard to take in how our society is. But we have always known, haven’t we? You walk a hundred yards down any street and you will hear the common people of this land, voice the common and pragmatic approach. They know when they are being hoodwinked, it has always been that way, and bullies have always enjoyed power and find it hard to say that they are wrong.

The government has sent the stealth bombs of deceit that has been falling down on our schools. Bombs veiled in a parents wish to do the right thing for their children and their teachers. The devastation is hard to see – a hidden crater in our education system, covered loosely by twigs of statistics.

As far as I can see, there are three phases to these cluster bombs. The first cluster has done their job well. They have fragmented the teachers, parents and information, dividing us in order to conquer us. One by one our schools have fallen. Stowmarket Middle school the latest to close, no announcements made. Now so close to the end of the academic year what can anyone do? Bactons fate is sealed. No information has been given out willingly, no plans have been shown, no structure put into place just teachers fighting for a jobs, funding and salaries.

Second, take all the best students and put them in a few schools. Bacton, will be taken over by a free school, so adding to this phase. Does it make sense – picking the best pupils and putting them altogether? What happens to the rest? The council try to show us how the middle schools have been failing, but are they?

These schools have done their best with the majority of lower achieving or troubled students. How is it going to improve, certainly not by taking space from our primary schools to make room for the extra classes and overloading our high schools!

Bacton primary school set aside a room for those children with social issues. They had a safe place to learn about empathy – something that is hard for some children with learning difficulties. This protects the class from disruptive behaviour allowing the teacher to get on with teaching, this along with half of the new library will be taken away to allow another classroom. A playground and the swimming pool will have to go too. Soon primary schools with 200 or less pupils will close and what will happen then to the primary schools that are left?

All through these so-called discussions, meetings hurriedly arranged so parents find it hard to attend let alone gather information together. The Plans and changes are always conducted with the middle schools left out in the cold?  Divide and they have conquered us. They have veiled our concerns to hide the ticking bombs and made us parents hold them in silence.

The third and final phase is the sixth form, now what will happen to them? No one has been told – a shrug implies they will stay as they are but how can they with an extra 200 pupils on site.

What is their ultimate game plan to improve education? Surely, the two-tire system will give greater consistency. Well very little true information and a lot of misinformation has been given so it is hard to guess. Maybe a few top schools in the area that make it all look good are the best we can hope for. And the rest? Well the other schools will have to do what they can.

In the reforms that endlessly go around in circles of harping back on the past. It seems to me a few things get forgotten – educating teachers to teach is vital but rarely mentioned. Children are not robots and with more children with learning difficulties this seems to me this should be the priority.

Parent teacher Associations should take pride in providing fun equipment for their children. Supported by the governors the teachers would feel valued. Valued teachers teach well.

The reality is not everyone can teach. We should all be able to understand that children are difficult. A quiet child is hard to engage just as much as an enthusiastic disruptive one but blame seems to take over and this is an error society can not afford.

A good standard of teachers – supported by parents, facilities and Heads

= Engaged and happy students secured with understanding

of what is expected of them behaviour and exams

gives good education

It is not hard to work that out!

This is a letter that I have sent in the vein hope it will be read before a meeting that I have just heard about takes place. In reality I'm not sure how much difference it will make but I thought we lived in a democracy, the way this has been handled I don't think we do.

The impact of restructure is a mighty one and at the moment we just seem to keep going through endless circles of change for the better? I think not. Why restructure when you can think wisely and tinker, to get things right.

My name is Tina Rodwell I was educated in a two-tier system in Cambridgeshire, and I’m dyslexic. I was in the lowest classes at school; my teachers and I were exasperated with the situation. They thought I could do better and saw intelligence and blamed lack of effort on my part for my exam results. I just thought I was thick because I could not learn the way they wanted me too.

My husband’s education, caught up in the struggle of putting the three-tier system in place was unsettled. Parents at that time, being told it was a good system. I firmly believe with the right support it could be. If children going up to the middle school were “buddied up” with their pier group of the previous year and again when they first go through the high school, transition would not be a problem. That way there would be no six weeks of worry over the holidays to what would be expected of them or what to expect. I believe this is what the pyramid system was all about and was persuaded of its merits.

My daughter went through a year of turmoil when teachers left because they thought Bacton was going to close.

My eldest son at Stowupland has had drop out teachers with constant replacement teachers. The biggest issue with schools no matter where you live or system you use, is keeping good teachers. I would guess that the conflict between school in fighting – caused by the uncertainty and their hands bound by the job they do, must be unbearable. Overall they are – people that want and need to teach.

All three of my children are dyslexic and have dyspraxia tendencies and a thing called Irlen syndrome. It does not matter to me what you call it but I do understand that we all learn in different ways – people and therefore children are not pre-programmable items. We live in a diverse society yet we still put constraints on it. This is used as a very valuable commodity by government when putting forward fluid statistics to support their ideas, after all it sounds good.

My eldest son wants to be a doctor and would, I think make a good one, but with his disabilities being misunderstood, and lack of consistency of teachers this is unlikely to happen.

The impact of rhetoric of government makes it all sound so plausible but expects us (the bound and gagged public) to walk a walk we instinctively know has no foundation and does not work.

Teachers are not allowed to express themselves, neither are the governors of our schools and trying to get a polite and courteous reply to a simple question has so far been beyond the council.

On Tuesday 26^th 0212 a meeting is to be held in Stowupland high school where no independent parent representative will be asked to attend and they will only discuss one proposal, my question is why?

This has been going on for six years and my children have suffered. Yet I was told to be quiet in one of the first meetings held, as this would not concern me, my son at the time was too young so this would not effect him. My family has been and will continue to be badly affected, with the coercion during this process unforgivable.

My daughter will be at high school taking her A levels when the restructure takes place. She will not know what school or teachers she will have through her A levels. How is this going to work for her and her teachers?

My youngest will be forced to stay in a Victorian school with substandard facilities with two extra year groups. He will no longer have subject specific teachers going into his sixth year of education. Let me just clarify that. He will have one teacher that will teach all subjects with no subject specific equipment.  He will have to wait until he is 11 going in 12 before he will be able to get to school safely (I kid not have you seen the primary schools in these areas) there will be no question of walking our children to school and no proper exercise at school.

He wont have a dining hall he can comfortably eat in, don’t get me started on toilets, a football pitch, tennis court so sport will be out.

Maths teacher and the equipment that they need in these computer frenzied times.  No support for English, not to mention the Sciences, but it is the teachers I morn the loss of, without the teachers what is the education system and that is what this proposal will take away form Angus.

My Question is for what or whose benefit are we changing the system?

Even after two more meetings have taken place, I still have no reply.

Walking along to the linnet’s song feeling the pulse of nature beneath her feet, Clair’s smile was as warm as the sun. This is what she had worked so hard to have. She had made a dash for some tranquillity in her life and had found it here in a small village in Suffolk.

She had reached the old oak tree her three dogs already knew the drill, and were wandering off sniffing the ground for hares, rabbits and deer. She was eclectic by nature and it showed in her assortment of dogs. Bear, her chocolate mastiff, Peaches, a Chihuahua and Fox Terrier cross and Scruff an apricot assortment that looked like a Jack Russell on stilts ­­– all from broken homes.

The mornings haze, slowly evaporating by the sun made a shimmering glow over the landscape. She had soon reached her destination, pulled Bears holdalls off his back and carefully emptied some of its contents, arranging them on the bank of the natural pond. In the distance, four deer stood, acknowledged their presence and nonchalantly walked away.

Clair knew most walkers had been and gone so she could paint in solitude. For her painting at this time had become her compulsion and her passion. It was making her quite antisocial – if she didn’t start talking to someone soon she would forget how too! She reflected on this point as she drew in the bulrushes and mixed her paint.

Her dogs with their noses to the ground in contentment, gave her comfort. She captured the beams of light, and picked out the differing lush greens of the leaves and grasses, all mixed in with the deep brown yellow of the growing corn. This background made the deep velvet of the bulrushes shine with lustier. Something was odd; too many dogs, a black Lab had joined her pack. He had calmly and without bother just taken up his place. Where there was a dog, meant there was an owner. Clair’s panic rose.

Her paintings were immensely private to her. She started to hyperventilate as she went into the now familiar uncontrollable, fever pitch of anxiety. A soothing calm voice apologised for disturbing her. The blood that had flowed to her ears muffled the words as she franticly looked round, but the sun glared her vision, so that only an outline of the man could be seen.

‘Gosh you’ve captured Rip!’ She looked down at her work and there in the foreground, was the character of him, captured by his demeanour, which burst out through his velvet eyes and glistened with innate intensity. She was stunned that she had been so absorbed – she had painted a dog she had never seen before. Rip must have been there for sometime, watching her through the long reeds. She stood back and agreed – she had done a mighty fine job!

The man slowly came and sat by her on the bank, slipping off his rucksack. In London, she had been hidden by the constant flow of the masses, she found in the country she became more prominent and felt exposed. It had over whelmed her and gave her panic attacks. For the first time she felt her breathing became more controlled, less frantic on its own.

“Sorry for startling you, I didn’t mean to pry but I would like to know if you would consider selling me your painting?”

“Oh!’ Clair fumbled not knowing what to say. She actually believed he meant it.

“I like the way you’ve shown his humour.” Clair smiled – she had somehow painted a mellow chuckle in the dog’s eyes. “Are you from around here or just visiting?” He asked.

“I’ve just moved into the little cottage, on the bad bend – back there.” She pointed in the vague direction.

“Oh I heard there was a young townie just moved in there.” He chuckled, a mellow and congenial chuckle to match his dog’s expression. She could also tell he had sized her up, understood her straight away. He accepted her for her, now that was refreshing.

“I’ve a couple of rolls” would you like to join me?”

“Love too, would you like a slice of quiche?” He started to laugh as she brought out the full picnic she had prepared – including half a bottle of champagne. She started to laugh with him. Bear’s bags where like the magicians hat, a feast fit for a table slowly emerged. Normally she would never have shown anyone, afraid of the ridicule. She liked picnics to be special, just for the sense of occasion. People thought her silly, over the top but to-day she turned fifty, and well there was something different in the way she felt, to-day she didn’t care quite so much what people thought, helped by John’s enjoyment of her little foible.

The Linnets took to the sky, Bear lay down and Peaches curled up for their lunchtime snooze, while the other two dogs went looking for anything that moved. The Linnets song hit the serenity note as two new friends talked about life in general and the village history in particular. There they sat amongst the grass, Clair with her tall elegant champagne flute, and John with his thermos flask cup.

As she loaded Bear’s bags up, John with natural ease called the dogs, and they all walked along the side of the fields to the road. It was no surprise to her that he was a dog trainer, his ability to command respect through his soft encouraging energy, was inspirational.

She got a girlish sense of fun at his face as he saw Peaches climb up into Bear’s backpack. Peaches face poked out periodically with a comical twisting to-and-fro to see what was happening and then she would pop back inside. Peaches now twelve deserved a rest. John was impressed with her agility and energy and instead of making a fuss or poking fun – he took a picture and set it as a screen saver.

“Most people would not believe a fighting dog would ever behave that gentlemanly way. I have to go to the local school and give a talk about dogs, the children would love to see Peaches and Bear” Clair visibly shied away, her pulse racing. John held her elbow while she breathed through it. “I would have to lead them, if you don’t mind, for insurance purposes – you know how it is these days.” He let go as soon as her breathing was normal and held her gaze until he was sure she was calm again.

Each time the insurmountable happened, she had coped and enjoyed the elation of overcoming, the awkward reaction to meeting new people ­– thanks to John’s warm and perceptive personality.

When they had gone a little further, he asked her if she would consider taking on a commission for him. One of his closest friends birthday was coming up and he wanted something special for him. Could she paint a dog from a picture? She said she would give it a go. He nodded and looked at her sideways and his expression made her believe that she was good enough for the task and his faith in her made her anxiety abate.

As they walked along the little birds hovered and soared, singing all the while. As Clair looked up she felt her new roots beginning to be set down here, amongst this year’s ripening harvest and the Linnets unwavering song.

Three Tier-system in Education

This is a letter that I have sent in the vein hope it will be read before a meeting that I have just heard about takes place. In reality I'm not sure how much difference it will make but I thought we lived in a democracy, the way this has been handled I don't think we do.

The impact of restructure is a mighty one and at the moment we just seem to keep going through endless circles of change for the better? I think not. Why restructure when you can think wisely and tinker, to get things right.

My name is Tina Rodwell I was educated in a two-tier system in Cambridgeshire, and I’m dyslexic. I was in the lowest classes at school; my teachers and I were exasperated with the situation. They thought I could do better and saw intelligence and blamed lack of effort on my part for my exam results. I just thought I was thick because I could not learn the way they wanted me too.

My husband’s education, caught up in the struggle of putting the three-tier system in place was unsettled. Parents at that time, being told it was a good system. I firmly believe with the right support it could be. If children going up to the middle school were “buddied up” with their pier group of the previous year and again when they first go through the high school, transition would not be a problem. That way there would be no six weeks of worry over the holidays to what would be expected of them or what to expect. I believe this is what the pyramid system was all about and was persuaded of its merits.

My daughter went through a year of turmoil when teachers left because they thought Bacton was going to close.

My eldest son at Stowupland has had drop out teachers with constant replacement teachers. The biggest issue with schools no matter where you live or system you use, is keeping good teachers. I would guess that the conflict between school in fighting – caused by the uncertainty and their hands bound by the job they do, must be unbearable. Overall they are – people that want and need to teach.

All three of my children are dyslexic and have dyspraxia tendencies and a thing called Irlen syndrome. It does not matter to me what you call it but I do understand that we all learn in different ways – people and therefore children are not pre-programmable items. We live in a diverse society yet we still put constraints on it. This is used as a very valuable commodity by government when putting forward fluid statistics to support their ideas, after all it sounds good.

My eldest son wants to be a doctor and would, I think make a good one, but with his disabilities being misunderstood, and lack of consistency of teachers this is unlikely to happen.

The impact of rhetoric of government makes it all sound so plausible but expects us (the bound and gagged public) to walk a walk we instinctively know has no foundation and does not work.

Teachers are not allowed to express themselves, neither are the governors of our schools and trying to get a polite and courteous reply to a simple question has so far been beyond the council.

On Tuesday 26^th 0212 a meeting is to be held in Stowupland high school where no independent parent representative will be asked to attend and they will only discuss one proposal, my question is why?

This has been going on for six years and my children have suffered. Yet I was told to be quiet in one of the first meetings held, as this would not concern me, my son at the time was too young so this would not effect him. My family has been and will continue to be badly affected, with the coercion during this process unforgivable.

My daughter will be at high school taking her A levels when the restructure takes place. She will not know what school or teachers she will have through her A levels. How is this going to work for her and her teachers?

My youngest will be forced to stay in a Victorian school with substandard facilities with two extra year groups. He will no longer have subject specific teachers going into his sixth year of education. Let me just clarify that. He will have one teacher that will teach all subjects with no subject specific equipment.  He will have to wait until he is 11 going in 12 before he will be able to get to school safely (I kid not have you seen the primary schools in these areas) there will be no question of walking our children to school and no proper exercise at school.

He wont have a dining hall he can comfortably eat in, don’t get me started on toilets, a football pitch, tennis court so sport will be out.

Maths teacher and the equipment that they need in these computer frenzied times.  No support for English, not to mention the Sciences, but it is the teachers I morn the loss of, without the teachers what is the education system and that is what this proposal will take away form Angus.

My Question is for what or whose benefit are we changing the system?

Do you listen to the corn pop?

Do you walk along a country path after the rain, and hear the corn pop as the sun shimmers down, when the earth smells clean and washed. The swallows fluttered wings quiver as their acrobatic swoops catch your eye and the linnet’s sweet song carries with the summer breeze, with all the heartiness of life, setting the English scene.

Do you take a deep breath, hold it and let the aromas of flowers entertain your senses? Hear the corn shudder in the breeze and rattle as though they are empty? But there in those seemingly empty shells, contained and bound is the food that will soon feed us, doesn’t it make you wonder?

As the rain comes down in thunders spots, that’s exactly what I dream of. I have been bedraggled and blown off course more times today than I would care to mention. Well Miss flights of Fancy, you will have to wind in your wings and take them somewhere else as the English weather is not for turning and you just can't fly in this weather. All I can say is hosepipe ban.

My Mum and Dad's 50th Wedding Anniversary

On the 3rd of march 2012 a village, friends and family walked together to celebrate 50 years of life together. 

What I remembered about those years when we were small

Best idea yet, get someone else to drive

Then came the toasts 

The pomp and ceremony were worth it for the memories we will all hold of the day Winwick came together with the Church, bell-ringers, Skiffle band, neighbours, friends and family to make merry and enjoy. 

My dad taught the bell-ringers and was very proud of them on that day for the dongers and dingers and no clangers could be heard with the song of the blackbird, made this country scene idyllic.

Tilly Moments: Parallel Universe Part 7 With love from Tilly x

Tilly Moments: Parallel Universe Part 7 With love from Tilly x: This is for a friend with my love, I hope it gives you strength x I sit here looking back on the parallel of our lives. His, taking him...

Parallel Universe Part 7 With love from Tilly x

This is for a friend with my love, I hope it gives you strength x

I sit here looking back on the parallel of our lives. His, taking him all over the world and yet he was alone and trapped but doing what he loved. Inverted in my universe where I was grounded to a home, alone and trapped but doing what I loved.

When our singular universes collided uniting our independent spheres we both knew that we would have to learn to live with each other. Relationships forged out of necessity to protect the children. I found out that Ian had tracked me down after Zara had seen Sophie in her school uniform and confirmed via a few pictures on my facebook.

I had grown to understand that his younger self could not commit. I truly believe he loved me but his mistress played with him remorsefully and made him dance her tune. But his mistress had lost her lustre and he found she was made of fools gold.

Christmas was breathtaking. Zara and Rafe are now my close friends and Francesca had learnt her boundaries and could be quiet entertaining, especially under Henry’s influence. I still feel trapped, crying out to be my own woman. I will be forever beholden to a family that my children call their own. I am grateful, just trapped.

I’ve taken Honey for a good long walk the house is tidy beyond tidy and I look at the clock again. This is the hardest thing of all being on your own, waiting for your children to come home. I have time now but no money to spend on doing things. I can’t compete with Ian’s financial position and not wanting to take away the fun money has to offer, I stand back but I do become resentful. I am here just for the discipline, cleaning and cooking. I drop and pick up the children outside the house though I’m made to feel welcome. I know if I saw him go out with someone I would not cope. Silly I know but there we go. Life still is a bit shitty.

My phone buzzed as I knew it would they were going to stay the night with Auntie Zara. I thought that being Valentines Day they would like to be alone, I was sure Rafe was taking Zara out.  I remembered that I hadn’t opened the cards the kids had left me so I went into the kitchen.

Henry’s Valentine was hand made with a miss shaped heart and a big kiss right in the middle he had drawn Sophie on it too. I started to cry. I cry at everything, always have. I braced myself for Sophie’s she always picked a good card that would have me blubbering for hours if not days. Deep breath, I cut my finger on the envelopes edge and had to leave reading it as the blood flow would not stop. I found a plaster and looked at the card more closely.

Ian had given her a camera for Christmas and by the looks of the picture on the front of the card she was seriously good. I sort of knew the area. Had we gone there on holiday? The church on the hill, there was a story attached to it something about the Black Death. I closed my eyes and caught my breath. Rolling down the hill at Wadenhoe, eating lunch by the river and then canoeing all the way back to the Hotel, it was our first holiday together. Tears started to run down my cheeks. He must have taken her there.

I had loved our life together and enjoyed looking to the future to what I thought we would become. That was the saddest bit the hurdle I fell at. I put the card down, she was not to know. I got the wine out of the fridge, poured a large glass this was going to be a very long night. I put on some James Blunt hoping his toffee voice could mellow me and I began to dance to ‘I Really Want You’ living every word. It was when I turned to sit down as my ankle began to ache; still singing really loud ‘I really want you’ that I noticed someone in full leathers.

The scream was intense, the scream was loud, the wine spilt and I slipped. Did I have trousers on? No! Did I have red knickers on Yes! I will be burning those bloody red knickers.

There was Ian holding my leg again.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Livid was an understatement. His face was bemused mingled with angry.

‘What the fuck I’m doing, what the fuck are you doing, you should be ready to go.’

‘Go where?’

‘Out’

‘Out where?’ He slumped on the floor beside me and looked at me. I mean really looked at me. Making me really look at him, I was not happy with him for that.

‘Did you get my card?’

‘What sort of card?’

‘Valentines card.’

‘Nope.’

‘The picture of Wadenhoe on the front.’

‘I thought it was from Sophie.’

‘You didn’t read it?’

‘I….. it made me cry.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yea Oh.’

‘I was being romantic.’

‘Why’

‘Because I have fallen in love with you, again.’

‘When, when did you fall in love with me?’

‘I’ve always loved you but when I saw you for the first time with Sophie you took my breath away.’ I was bundled up tight to protecting myself from the harm love can do. Can you forgive someone breaking your most precious rule? Not sure he would if I was the one sleeping with his best friend.

‘Then when I saw you going into the supermarket and followed you around. How you were with Henry I realised my work meant nothing until you have seen it.’

‘You’ve been stalking me?’

‘A little, do you mind?’

‘A little.’ We were so close our backs to the sofa, shoulders nearly touching, excited breaths rasping our uncertainty.

‘It gets worse! I might as well be completely truthful. Before the old guy pinned your leg to the side of the trolley park and I come running to your rescue. You have beautiful legs.’ I rolled my eyes and we both laughed. Of all my features I have always thought my legs were the ugliest now even more so with the scar.

‘I had followed you several times.’

‘You said truthful, how many exactly?’

‘Fifteen ish.’

‘Fifteen! How come I never saw you?’

‘You weren’t looking. You were…’ I looked around at him and his eyes glistened.

A small cough to clear the tears he let his hand drop so that I could hold his if I wanted to, which I did but couldn’t.

‘It was when you were talking to Henry I lost my heart and gained my faith.’

‘Faith is a bit strong.’

‘When you have seen and done what I have you loose your faith sometimes.’ He picked up my shaky hand and squeezed it right on the paper cut. I flinched and he immediately dropped it.

‘You were being asked about Bill; you protected Henry and sent him off to get something from the shelf. You were so sad for a split second then you carried on being you. I think Henry is the greatest little guy I have ever met.’

‘Would you have ever spoken to me? Or just followed me?’

‘I would have eventually.’

‘Sophie.’

‘Yea I guess but I didn’t want to talk to her before I had met you.’

‘But you did.’

‘Only because I was about to go off with her mum in an ambulance, I didn’t want her thinking I was some strange man.’

‘But you were you were stalking me!’

‘I just wanted to make it easier on her. I’ve booked a table if you want to go on a date, with no strings attached.’

I didn’t want to go for a meal, the whole idea seemed wrong to me. Formal, cliché and inappropriate not sure I wanted to relive the past. I just wanted to rummage his body and see if it was as good as I remembered but that seemed inappropriate now his intentions had been laid bare in-front of me.

I had to see his work all of his work. He would always keep a couple of pictures hidden from anyone.

‘Take me to see all of your work that would be my dream date, a good bottle of wine and a private showing.’

His face lost all colour. For a true artist to show all their work good, bad and private was a true test of how he felt about you. Oh I was not cleaver I hadn’t thought about it in those terms until I saw it in his face. It was a big ask.

We arrived at his studio; we had stopped on the way to get a bottle of champagne and strawberries and without a word I went in. He opened the wine expertly and I started my search. There all around me was the man I knew he would become. Moments captured, exposed like no other medium. All of human kind was hanging around me infiltrating my understanding of what nature and other humans can do to the planet or each other. Impact of missiles to the glove of a fighter or attach of a rioter to that of the actions of a dictator. The loss of home, love or life with crumpled bodies, crumpled lives, haunting stress filled faces all asking why.

Now I understood. I could never have lived with this but the world and history needed this. His mum had been insightful protecting her son and in some way protecting my little universe. I looked at him and saw the sadness the need to be held.

He waited for my reaction with bated breath. But how could I express how I felt? He led me to another room as the other had drained me this one filled me with energy and hope. Humanity flooded through and there in the middle was Henry, Sophie and me. The beauty in our normality shone.

The biggest Picture hung like the biggest planet amongst a universe of feelings. It was taken just after Christmas and the time we had spent together. It was around Zara’s the only place we met now. Henry had just jumped with joy he was in mid air; Sophie was in eyes raised in OMG! Mode captured with every detail of her strong personality. But the whole focus and where your eye was drawn to was me. It was not a flattering pose it showed me as I would love to be though. My face had this look you want to capture and hold. Ian had a great talent; greatness was in his prose of the piece. 

The shining stars around a universe shone more brightly when two parallel lives collided, making one sphere.

I could see for the first time the bigger picture, his message to me.

I really want you!

This is a live performance and looking at his face like Ian's Photos in the story, paint the emotion. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ubiinfvXs0

Parallel Universe Part 6

Tomorrow will be the last part of Parallel Universe. Let me know if you enjoyed it  x

How on earth am I going to figure this one out? And why did he want to be part of our lives and why now? Why did he track me down and come and live a stones throw from my door? I have never been one for conspiracy theories but it was beginning to feel like one.

‘Should we ask the children what they think would be best? Ian suggested what I would’ve done in any situation like this. I couldn’t ask the questions buzzing around my head, I was too desperate for the right answers and I wasn’t sure I would get the ones I wanted. I could feel the pain of my heart breaking already.

‘Yes, I guess we should ask Sophie and try to explain to Henry. They could stay with my friends until I’ve decided what’s best.’ I was thinking out loud but the shift in the atmosphere caused a tension that vibrated through Ian. I prickled with irritation over not being brave enough. But the situation was diverted when I got a call from Sophie and Zara was bringing the children over on Sophie’s instructions.

I dressed with the help of Ian which was compromising and eventful. As he had packed my bag my, his intentions was leapt out of it. None of the comfy clothes were there. He defended his reasoning with that they were easier for me with a plastered leg. He examined each delicate item until he got a smile or a laugh from me. I would have preferred to slide down the stairs on my bottom but having a very nice dress on made that impossible and he conceded that perhaps it was a little intractable but enjoyable.

We were sitting in his large bright modern kitchen that still held the historical charm of the building when Henry came rushing in to find us. Excited and bemused by everything he saw which brought warmth to Ian’s face, it brought chills of anticipation all over me. Which object would he get a fascination with and break? As Sophie followed by Zara came in he asked the question…..

‘Daddy Ian what’s a bummer and can I see Harley?’

I choked on my coffee, Sophie uttered

‘Oh my god! You just can’t say anything around him.’ And Zara’s eyes nearly popped out with laughing.

I could have rushed to Ian’s rescue and explained about young children’s minds but it was too precious of a moment to spoil with common sense. I just looked straight into Ian’s eyes with the joy of the humour and let him find his own way out of this one.

He decided to skim over the “daddy Ian” bit and got to the ‘Bummer’ and to my surprise he knew what the little chap meant.

‘A Hummer is a big American car.’

‘Can I ride in it?’

‘If your mum says that’s ok.’ I nod my head at the two boys with exciting toys eyes.

‘A Harley is a motor bike’ Henry was beside himself with pleads that would not abate so Ian held his hand and took him off to show him his toys, explaining that they were loud, leaving Sophie, Zara and me to have a catch up.

‘Why is Henry calling Ian, Daddy Ian?’ Sophie looked down mortified

‘I was talking about my dad.’

It was the first time she had had a dad she could call her own and I just couldn’t rip that away from her but how could I stop Henry from getting the illusion of having a father figure back in his life. I could see the glassy tears start to form and my heart cracked a deep crack that only your child can give you.

‘I think Ian understands.’

‘That’s not the point Zara, I’m forced into a situation I didn’t want and I’m not sure I can cope with.’

She came around to me and they both put their arms around me and the tears fell from us all. We pulled away at the same time Sophie started to explain her and Auntie Zara’s cunning plan.

Zara was an interior designer and property developer with Ian. They had a few three and four bedroom houses for rent around Bury St Edmunds.

‘Zara said we could take one that had just come up for rent, fully furnished over Christmas rent free so we didn’t have to stay with Ian.’

Sometimes I thought I would burst with pride.

‘Sophie you can call him dad, we will just have to get to some understanding with Henry later ok?’ She nodded and I saw the tears well up again. I held her hand.

‘You would be doing me a favour as houses empty around Christamas can be a liability. Another good thing Mum doesn’t know about this one either so you will be safe…. for a while.

Can Henry call me auntie?’ I smiled and loosened the grip of control just a little more they obviously could sort things out well enough without me. Now how scary is that!

‘Of course he can.’

Rafe walked in and put his arm around Zara hugged her and came over and kissed me on the top of the head. Love oozed from them as I coloured a little after what I had said to Ian about him and as we discussed moving into the house I tried to get my mind around the ever shifting relationships.