Sunday, 31 May 2015

The one where I have lupins, lilies, and laughs.

On the 30th May 1958 I finally decided it was time to enter the world. One month late, so instead of being a Taurean Bull, I became a Two-sided Gemini. Fine by me, I'd much prefer to be a butterfly flitting here and there, growing bored of routine within half an hour of experiencing it rather than a cement booted, scared of change stubborn Bull. Believe me I know bulls, both planetary ones and flesh and blood, hooves and horns ones. The latter far more understandable than the former. Note of importance-  I am jesting. I happen to have a number of really lovely human Bulls in my life, including my darling husband. So definitely jesting. Pulling your leg. Tongue in cheek. Easy now, shhhh, that's a good bull. Stop scraping the floor with your foot.

We'll swiftly move on to lupins and lilies...

For the first time in many years my birthday was spent in part with the company of both my boys. That's not a complaint in any way, I'm the kind of mother who understands that her children have a life of their own to lead. My birthday, like everyone's, doesn't often fall on a weekend so it's not easy for the boys to see me. Goddess forbid I become a demanding old crone who believes she's the centre of the universe, whose first words of greeting are along the lines of  "Oh it's you is it, you've not visited me for ages. If you want a cuppa put the kettle on. Teabags are in the same place as they were last year."  No I want my offspring to enjoy visiting me!
I'm digressing again. I've now forgotten what I was going to say...

Of course! I had a really lovely birthday in the company of my family. The weather was nice; nice enough for my sun lounger to make an appearance.*   A day of cuppas and cake, hugs and hurrahs, and lilies and lupins. The latter being simply beautiful gifts from my children. Gifts that will grow. I'm so blessed. I'm so happy. Confused with fibro fog but nevertheless happy.

*It happened again. No sooner does my sun lounger appear, the sun gives a shriek of horror and goes to hide behind the thickest rain cloud he can find. The bloody wimp! He's terrified of the green check cushion and green tubular metal. Someone give the sun a dose of courage, a kick up the solar backside to get himself up and at it. He's got Devon to bathe in sunlight.

Monday, 4 May 2015

Trying to explain the unexplainable.

I've just managed a shower. Looked in mirror and to all outwards appearance I look a healthy middle aged crone.  I don't blame people for disbelieving fibro.  It's really difficult to understand that inside that outwards look I'm struggling to move, that each movement feels like agony, that I've no energy left after showering to towel myself dry so I just wrap myself up and drip dry flat out on bed.  Again.  Head hurts, bones feel like they're full of flu, skin is crawling with unseen ants and I've got freezing feet even though I've got thick fleece socks on.  But none of it can be seen by the onlooker so they think we are pulling their leg. 
I'm not after sympathy but asking you to just try to understand.

Friday, 1 May 2015

This is important i think.

I’m counting bees for the Great British Bee Count http://goo.gl/tFRa2r #beecount

Saturday, 18 April 2015

P's Crackle glazed balls

In the evening when the sun has dropped out of sight and darkness has found each corner of the bedroom, P's (Mr Debz) crackle glazed balls entrance me. I love watching them put on their ceiling show as they change colour and pattern. The green presents like a wild fantasy forest, really vibrant and inviting. Then comes red causing the forest to glow with flame until the blue casts it's soothing cooling over. The other ball has purple too but that's faint and not very remarkable, sorry purple you should get your act together!
 Thank you P for giving me this calming, soothing amusement. Such a brilliant idea to buy those solar crackle glazed ball lights, charging them during the day on the window ledge and putting them on the bedroom shelf at night.


Not what you thought is it? {Cackles evilly} 😁

Friday, 17 April 2015

Pssst. Are you awake?

I'm not giving out prizes for guessing that yours truly cannot sleep tonight/ this morning. I'm tired, indeed I am, but I'm in the throes of various muscle spasms and nerve twitches and pins and needles all over and and and... Enough. You know I've got fibro, or you should by now if you've bothered to read any of this blog.
I reckon all five of you must think I'm the most boring, depressing old crone you've ever read about. Moaning and groaning and moaning again. "Put a cork in it" I mentally see you saying. (A cork would have come in handy today, yesterday rather, as my IBS sought to help me exercise  by unblocking the pipes. I doubt a colonic irrigation in some fancy clinic could have done a better job, a bit shorter in duration but not as thorough as Dr Fartypants IBS. Oh and BTW those puppies on a roll don't last as long as they think plus they turn to porcupines half through. Soft my a#*e!! Pun intended. )
Went off track there... What was I going to tell you?... I started saying summat didn't I?... { making a cuppa today I found myself in the bathroom looking for the milk. Don't ask ME why, I'm just no-brain, I've no idea. Eventually found milk in usual place in the fridge in the kitchen.}
Yawn. I'm so bloody tired. Maybe if I stop this writing, do some grounding and meditation , maybe I'll fall asleep.
Maybe later I'll remember what it was I wanted to tell you.
Maybe.
May.
Be.

Wednesday, 15 April 2015

One of those weeks

Look, I KNOW there's people out there much worse than I am. I also know I've much to be thankful for and of course I bloody well know that at least I'm alive and not six foot under. So yes! I know all that and I don't need anyone telling me!
But listen, my knowledge of those points of fact doesn't and isn't making me feel better. Freakin fibro hasn't suddenly top toed away in shame of causing me so much bother.  I'm still stuck with a spine that is spineless. The old ticker is still wonky. And the ears are still made of cloth.
Mate, my entire body hurts. No muscle is spared and the pain is ceaseless. Even my skin is on one today, the slightest touch makes it try to flee shrieking 'it burns it burns!' . IBS is conducting its orchestra of wind instruments and the occasional cymbal, not to forget its sidekick 'Ol Bloat' the water carrier who is stocking up for a drought and causing me to look like Humpty Dumpty.
Standing up hurts. Sitting down hurts. Goddess knows lying here hurts as well!
So please excuse me today for not bloody caring who has it worse, for not giving a s*#t how thankful I should be. Normal kindness and caring will be resumed tomorrow. Hopefully.

***

On a more calmer note, we've got the most colourful spring going on outside. Those carpets of celandines, primroses, daffs, daisies, and now bluebells are a joy to behold.  And the blossom on the trees! Beautiful. Thank you Mother Nature.

Monday, 13 April 2015

Restless Leg Syndrome

Just a small thought that might help if you suffer from RLS and you've tried everything else that doesn't involve medications. Recently I had week of extremely bad legs and arms that were going hell for leather every evening, causing even more pain to the point I was actually crying with them. So I mentioned it to my new doctor, explained that I was taken off Ropinrol by the hospital when I had the heart episode. She asked if I'd like to try Pregabalin a newer drug apparently being used to help fibromyalgia amongst other things. Nothing ventured, nothing gained thought the old crone while saying yes please!
Three weeks on and while I can't report any difference in my fibro I can tell you that the RLS has decreased. Not stopped completely, damn, but the episodes I'm having (now 3 or 4 times a week) are very quick to end therefore more bearable than they were and I'm actually managing to sleep! 

Info on Pregabalin  - 
http://www.drugs.com/cdi/pregabalin.html

Blooming beautiful blossoms or beautiful blooming blossoms

The one where I'm back

Hello again, I'm back from sampling the delights of the farmers markets in Kauai, from relaxing under the shade of gently dancing palm trees while digging my bunions into the hot white sands and sipping fruit concoctions that cool and soothe my dry throat.
Like hell I have!! In my dreams, yes. Actually no cos my dreams entail running from knife/gun wielding maniacs or saving camels from rivers. Let's not get into that eh!
Start again... I'm back from nowhere. In the couple months of silence on here I've simply moved back home to Devon from 'that-place' in Cornwall. Don't get me wrong 'that-place' is a nice enough area, but while I was there I was so unhappy and ill, now I'm home I'm happy and ill. Makes a difference it does. I'm back with my husband, my dogs, my garden, in the area I love the best, closer to my sons homes, among the friendliest people, with good medical assistance.
Not any Hawaii, Kauai, or any other glorious isle could make my smile broader at this point in time.

Thursday, 15 January 2015

Weather, woolies, wonder

I've been busy crocheting. For those who don't know I'll just explain that until a year ago, anything that came under the term needlecraft sent me scurrying in the opposite direction. For a start I've got fumbling thick fingers on large hands that I'm sure have expanded due to years of holding reins and shoveling muck from stables and barns. Not only that, said fingers and hands are now arthritic and don't always obey my orders. So it's really something that I picked up a crochet hook in the first place, and then proceeded to learn from the internet how to twist that, pull that through, wrap that round and repeat often enough to end up with something resembling a coaster for a mug. Truly, it's really something!!
   But stuck in bed with fibro I had to do something and I really do like learning new things, hence the start of crochet. I've made fingerless gloves, hats, wrist warmers and other small items to wear. But I get bored so I've never started a larger project, besides I discovered freeform scrumbles and that was it, never really wanted to do anything more than create those. Until I saw a gorgeous crocheted jacket. I mean it was gorgeously gorgeous and probably would cost not only an arm and leg but a head too if it was for sale in some shop. And good goddess! My word! It was made from crocheted granny squares! Well I never! (Yep, you're right, I was shocked). Granny squares that I've done before, I can do those. If I can do those I must be able to make my own gorgeously gorgeous jacket. Right?!
    So it began, the whirlwind of fingers twisting, turning, tumbling, thrashing out squares a mile a minute....... No it didn't. That's how I envisioned myself crocheting this jacket, in reality , harsh as it is, I'm managing three a day and that's good for me. I've got the two front panels , now need the back and sleeves. Then put it all together, so come May I'll be sweating in my self made heavy Woolie.
         
                                       ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

Such fabulous weather we've had this week! Tuesday night was given over to thunder and lightening, lightening that lights up dazzling white sheets. There's a name for it but I can't remember. Course,I don't hear the thunder but I do know when it's going on, the whole atmosphere changes doesn't it, but also I can feel it growling in my bones. Not so silly as it sounds, it's all to do with vibration I'm told and that's why I can feel loud noises in my bones. So I'm told. Anyway, that storm on Tuesday was awesome (I'm told that word is so dated I shouldn't use it but do I care?). Tuesday day saw our local area invaded by the hurling, hurting, hurtling {grin} icy white kibbles from the sky and whichever deity was throwing them should be ashamed of themselves, waiting till I trundled out of co-op with my loo rolls under arm before they let fly. I slipped, did a one legged slide that Torvill would be proud of, but managed to keep bum from hitting pavement by grabbing shop window ledge. (So that's what they're there for. I always wondered the use of window ledges!). Considering I had a hole in my woolly tights in a VIP place I can only hope my leg didn't spread too wide. The good people of Holsy don't deserve such punishment.
    The remainder of the day and the next day were spent ouching more than usual, the result of my dancing on ice.

                      ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

More wonders of the week.....

Zaffi on his venture outside to toilet nearly got blown away. Literally. Not at all good for a little man with his pelvis fractured in two places. The vet did tell us to keep him mobile every so often for toilet etc but never said anything about flying.  He learnt from it and has been keeping to the area near the back door where it's sheltered from the wind. He's a clever 'un.

There's been so much rain the garden can't absorb any more and has turned into a forlorn, woeful area.  Wonderful to think in a few months it'll be all green with new leaves where plants have survived to bloom once again. The Great Mother's gifts, how I love them.

When I was young, taking the veil only meant one thing - you were going to be a nun.
I went to the village school, which was C of E and invisibly joined to the church over the road by some strong pulley that brought the vicar thrice a day to school. In fact after morning prayers he'd have his breakfast at school, after lunch prayers he'd join in with a hearty lunch. I know after home time prayers, when all us kids had gone, he'd sit with the two school teachers and partake of tea. So school must have been like a cafe for him I suppose. He was a large, big bellied, black robed, dog collared, bachelor who lived in a house made for a family with a dozen children. Such a waste!
I remember the vicar asking me and my friend if we would be taking the veil when we left school, then before I could reply he glared at me and announced " You,of course won't be, because you're the one with the devil on your shoulder. Aren't you! "
He'd told me this before at school and on that occasion made me crawl on my knees for most of the afternoon. My sin? On being asked where mankind came from I said from the earth. I was six years old. Religious people have always caused trouble in this world of mine.



Last wonder.....What Mr Debz and lulu bought me. Isn't it beautiful!

Wednesday, 7 January 2015

The one and only Zaffi . pt 1

Some years ago, six years to be correct, when we lived in the bigger place and had my last GSD lady called Maddy (her quick name, her real registered name too long to keep saying/ writing/thinking), I decided it was time to give another dog a home for life. Maddy was getting very old, very stiff, very near the end and I wanted to have another canine to look after when the horrible time came to say farewell to my beloved lady. I needed to have a saviour, another soul to stop me from drowning in a bi-po depression caused by my loss. Not a replacement Maddy! Heck no, nothing could ever do that!
    I couldn't cope with another GSD, not now my spine had gone and collapsed on me. No, I'd give my love and care to a smaller dog, but which one? From where? Weeks passed by while I searched adverts, looked on the dog homes websites, kept my eyes open as I went about the local area, but nothing caught my interest. If I'm honest my heart wasn't in it. It was acknowledging that Maddy wasn't going to be around much longer and I really didn't want to face it.
    For some weeks, in the post office window, there'd been a scrawled note on a postcard "free to good home, Patterdale x Border terrier dog. 8 months old. Black & tan. House trained. Call ........" I stopped and read it every time I walked past but the thought that niggled me was "what's the catch?" Such breed of dog don't come cheap, even the crosses, especially that kind of cross. So although I wrote the number down I never got anyone to phone for me.
   Weeks went by, Maddy grew older, and i found the mornings increasingly difficult. My heart would momentarily stop, a nervous heat /chill would crawl over my flesh, and I'd literally force myself through the door into the kitchen, prepared for the sight of a lifeless Maddy lying there. On seeing her body rise and fall as she breathed,I too would expel the air held in my lungs until then. On a few occasions she'd be so deep in sleep that she'd not stir, not bat an eyelid when I spoke her name, patted her body, gave her a firm nudge as panic rose in my throat. Then with a heaving motion she'd lift her head off the floor, her deep brown eyes looking at me with indignation, "what's up? I was enjoying my dream!" This followed by the equivalent of a dog smile, as I'd put my arms round her huge, extra hairy, stinky* body, muttering how much I loved her with a voice slightly chokey .
    There couldn't be any more hanging around. If I was to get through losing my big lump of hairy lady, then I needed to find another ball of hair to love. Sooner rather than later. Sadly.
     On my next walk past the post office I found myself rather pleased that the scrawled advert was still there, even with a mobile number rather than a landline phone. Something I'd not noticed before. Within ten minutes I was waiting on tenterhooks for a reply to my text "hiya, is the dog still available please? I'm deaf and unable to phone, deb". I waited, waited some more. Walked back home, looking every few moments at my phone. Holding it up this way, that way, turning round with it, just in case I was missing a better signal. (That's how my brain works,lol). Still nothing. Looked at the inbox just in case a reply has gone unnoticed by phone notifications. No text.
    I was peeling potatoes for tea when my phone did a jiggy dance of vibration across the worktop and I leapt on it, cat with mouse fashion, pulled up the incoming text " Hi, yes he is. Are you coming to see him? " I dashed a reply back "I'd love to, I'll get someone with ears to phone you and arrange it. Thanks ever so much. Deb"
    And so the story of the crippled dog, Zaffi, begins.

* Maddy was a long haired GSD. Her story and how she came to me is another one proving that dogs respond to kindness but firmness, loving but fairness. Maybe one day I'll be able to open the memory box in my brain and tell her story. Not yet. I'm not ready. At the end of her life it became impossible to bathe her, try as I might there was no way I could safely and comfortably , both for her and me, wash her. Therefore, despite having a regular top and tail wash she became a stinky lady. Especially at the very end when she became incontinent. Worth mentioning here is that just a few days before the end, we'd discussed helping her to go over to the Summerlands by getting the vet to come. None of us wanted to cause her suffering and we acknowledged her shame and sadness when she became incontinent. A very clean lady through out her life, she really hated not being able to stop herself from soiling inside the house. You didn't have to be a dog whisperer to see that.
However, she took the decision to lie down and go to sleep permanently, in the garden, in her most favoured spot. Bless her, loving and loyal to the last. 

Monday, 5 January 2015

Is it morning yet?

Obviously not yet morning cos it's still black as coal outside. The four legged ones and the two legged one are all slumbering accompanied with twitches, little kicks, jerks, the odd fart (I can feel them vibrating through the mattress) and I'm certain I felt a snore although not sure if it was human or animal. So sleep has descended on the house of pain.

    All bar for one being, who still abides in the land of consciousness. Buggar! I need to be sleeping for I've got to go with the young-man-with-four-legs to the vet hospital in the morning. This morning. At 8.30am. That's in approx 6 hours. So if I put this down now, maybe I can grab 5.5 hours to refill my body with much needed energy.....

     Wish me luck and if anyone has any good ideas for managing to get a half decent sleep, you know where to message me. I'll love you forever if your suggestions works. 😉💖

Saturday, 3 January 2015

The House of Pain wishes you happy new year


Calm down, I've not opened a decadent home for the sadomasochist. Although I'm sure it would be a welcome retreat for some. {I'm so not going there!} No, the house of pain (minus Vincent Price) is what our cosy bungalow here in Devon has become since Yule and the young-man-with-four-legs' fall off the bed.

      Poor little soul is in much pain with his back and both Mr Debz and I feel totally useless as all we can do is dish out his painkiller and try to ensure he's comfy. He goes for X-Rays on Monday to see exactly what's going on, which will be interesting because not only will we be able to get a diagnose (hopefully) but after all these years of knowing his back end is fastened to his body by screws, pins and wires, we'll be able to actually see them.
     Anyway, the home walls are resounding with yelps, Ouches, groans and swear words as the three of us go through the days in pain. No wonder the little-girl-with-four-legs is sighing and eye rolling, she's the only one bounding about at the moment. Good start to the new year, not!

      Here's hoping your 2015 will be a good one, with happiness, health and wealth.
     

Sunday, 21 December 2014

From me to you.

Gwearbennen wishes you every good blessing at Yule.

On the rebirth of the Sun may your days be peaceful, your heart be full of happiness, and your body be strong.



Friday, 19 December 2014

Creating Yule blessings.

Remember I've told you about the android apps I have on my Nexus, the arty ones? I decided to use those to do the 'special' Yule time greeting cards this year. I usually do these few special* cards in watercolour or maybe acrylic but I've just not been up to sitting up for that long, ergo those apps were a boon! To get them printed, despite my having a very good printer I had no card stock (not very well organised this year)  I turned to the funky bird, who made a real good job as they always do. I use them often, in fact I have their app which makes it all very easy and quick.

Now that the recipients have got them in hand I thought you might like to have a look yourselves....






* Special people get special cards, although this year I ran out of time before I ran out of special people. Apologies to my sons and my sister and a few others!  But I hasten to say that if you got a shop bought card you are no less special, indeed not!  If you weren't special to me, you'd not get a card at all. I don't believe in being two faced like that. I mean why would I go to the trouble and expense to send a card to someone I never see or speak to or even email during the year? I'm hardly wanting to wish then blessings at Yule am I? <emphatic nod of head>

I have to apologise for grammar and spelling mistakes. I'm making no excuses, just apologising.

Monday, 15 December 2014

Occurrences occurred.

It's been a while.
Things have either been happening within a whirlwind, or not happening in that very boring, 'stuck in bed unable to do much' way. The latter days I've simply not been up to threading a sentence together, which is annoying as writing on here would be the best past-time.

A few things have occurred.
It's become obvious that my new meds have the side effect of clinging to all food that enters my body and turning it into fat! Not ideal. Not ideal at all. I'm not saying I've become obese, I'm a long way off that, but I'm noticeably carrying a spare tyre. And not a bicycle sized one either! More of the Ford Fiesta size. Like many other physically disabled people, I'm in a catch 22 situation - exercising is difficult, even walking is hard or impossible on many days, so I rely on trying not to eat very much. Without exercise no matter how little I eat, I'll put weight on. But extra weight is really bad for me, my joints and spine suffer and of course, my old broken ticker will struggle to cope.
I read that Devon NHS has said it will refuse to treat overweight people*. It's so easy for them in charge to make such announcements thinking they're helping by scaring people into dieting, they don't seem to understand the problems of the disabled who can find it one frustrating issue.

* http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-devon-30318546

∆∆∆∆∆∆

Another occurrence
 the new addition to the family has finally arrived; J'Max my new yellow Nissan Juke Tekna. Crammed full of the latest gadget
ry including monitored tyre pressures, voice control, cameras, reversing assistant, and heck knows what else. By next Yule I might just know half of what the buttons, knobs and switches actually do but right now I'm using the instruction manual. Nicest thing is the heated leather seats, a real help for my spinal problem. And did I say it's all in yellow? Yes, yellow. A massive event for one who always chooses black or grey, isn't it? I fancied a change.


∆∆∆∆∆∆

Couple more occurrences that are worth mentioning.
My youngest son had his 29th birthday at the beginning of December. I managed to make him a cake, a chocolate Bundt cake. Sadly I forgot to take a photo so you'll just have to take my word for it, it was very nice, both in looks and taste /texture, even though I say it myself! I was relieved tbh as it's simply ages since I've been OK enough to bake.

Finally, my eldest son has been very poorly. I don't want to discuss it without his knowledge as he's a very private person, but he has finally been diagnosed with diverticulitis, something I know little about as it's something I don't have! Oh my! Something I don't have. How good to see and speak that sentence! Lol. Seriously, I've never seen him in so much pain, what a nasty condition it is. Thankfully the antibiotics have worked their magic and he's on the mend from the infection but has to alter his diet, which will help keep the condition in check.
If any of the five reading this suffers from diverticulitis and has tips and advice to give, I'd be grateful so that I can tell son.

Wednesday, 26 November 2014

There's a tramp!

The following memories from my childhood came about when looking through the Art Renewal Centre Museum, and coming across Portrait of an Old Man by Adolph von Menzel 1884. Immediately my mind went back to those men of the road, vagrants, swagmen or whatever you wish to call them. 

Growing up in rural north Staffordshire, an area of farms, fields, tiny hamlets and not much else, we often had `tramps' walking the local roads and lanes. These were men* dressed in outfits seemingly collected from various places or perhaps given by kindly people whose homes they passed on their travels, I'm sure they'd be clean when handed over but the tramps lifestyle had the kiss of death on cleanliness and smartness, soon they became rubbish dump looking. Wherever their outfits came from they had a unity of sorts, a uniform that made them recognisable immediately as men of the road from quite a distance away. 

My eagle eyed mother on the merest sight of a tramp, would announced his coming. "Tramp! There's a tramp coming! Come on get inside, get in now!" And she would clack about like a demented chicken, snatching her washing in off the line, dragging me indoors where I'd be put to work closing all the windows and making sure doors were locked. Then it was upstairs to watch, through the safety of the windows, the walking bundle of clothes plod by minding his own business, hopefully unaware of the mother and child hiding from him.  I've no idea what prompted such panic in mother, maybe at some time one had frightened her, but her panic was quickly caught and caused my tender young heart to bang against my ribs in the way Keith Moon played his drums. 

 The first thing you'd notice about the tramps clothes were the overcoats, greatcoats I think might be the correct term. Usually with epulattes on the shoulders and double breasted, I'm sure that at one time they'd have been fabulous attire but now the rips and tears made interesting looking holes. I wonder if some small hole made by a bramble or the like became a bullet hole or the mark of a knife, when it's wearer sat round the camp fire story telling for entertainment. (I'm more than likely wide off the mark but it's an amusing thought). I know many of them wore a jacket under these greatcoats, I can only imagine how skinny they must have been when stripped because to wear not only a jacket but several jumpers and a shirt. It's probable they wore vests isn't it? Crikey! 

Then on his lower half possibly more than one pair of baggy trousers in a murky colour, I know that for sure because one very warm summers day, my aunt and I came upon one rather old tramp lying on the grass verge of the road he was fast asleep with his hat on his chest, his arms folded over his belly. He had one pair of trousers unfastened, held up by braces (the buttoned type) and this enabled us to see another pair underneath, before we turned and fled back the way we had come. (BTW, I judged his old age only from what bits of face we could see between his eyrie of a beard and the sheaf of hair on his head. To be honest so little could be seen, and what could was so deeply grimed with years of dirt, that his age and ethnicity were uncertain. This was true for most of the tramps round our area.)

To complete their outfits were the mufflers, hats, big and scruffy boots, sometimes wellingtons, and for a lot of the men it was string that kept it together. Some had belts round their coats and jackets but I remember the string being more the par. Walking rag bags my aunt called them, I'm not sure if it was said with sadness or disgust. 

For the most part they kept to themselves in their own little world, never even bothering to glance sideways, eyes fixed on where they were going. Occasionally there would be one who became a regular, occasionally you'd get to know his name, particularly if he did odd jobs for the farmers. Rarely did you stop and speak. Actually when I say 'you' I mean the adults of the villages, us kids kept our distance! This was the English countryside in the 1960s when kids were really kids, not miniature teenagers, and we knew what would happen if we used cheek to anyone and that included tramps. 

Who were these men? Where did they come from? Where were they going? To be honest I've no answer for you, and I would love to know. There were a few who were soldiers, come back from the war only to find they had no homes, no families left. (This is in the Midlands, so I presume some were from Birmingham, Coventry, and the other areas that saw the devastation of bombing). True indeed that some of them I watched from the upstairs windows, were obviously suffering from mental problems. One I remember well for his tendency to dive for cover at any loud bang, I'm ashamed to say my older cousins had fun with the dust bin lid as he walked past. 

Whoever they were, whatever their past was, wherever they were going they did no harm as far as I know. There might be suspicions of them pinching something from time to time, and one used to sneak into mother's outdoor toilet and use it, not bothering to flush which drove mother mad. I'm glad for the offender that she never caught him, put it that way!

* I say these were men simply because we never saw any female tramps. That's not to say there weren't any, I don't know if there were or not! In writing this blog I deal only with what I've experienced myself, it's life as I've seen it and lived it. 




Friday, 21 November 2014

The owl and the pussycat...

Didn't go to sea after all. The owl stayed on his special tree, his big eyes surveying all around him and not missing a thing. While the pussycat sat underneath, waiting for... What? The owl to fall asleep and off his perch? The owl to say something witty or wooey? Or maybe they really are best friends and share their mice supper?

I'll leave it to your imagination to decide.

Spring is coming

With each day we're closer to spring. It might not seem like it at the moment, weathers not very nice, without doubt worse is to come as winter draws her cloak around us. So to remind us of what's ahead I did this little bit of art today. I'm no good at naming my art so I'm just calling it Spring is coming.

Go forth and create

Facing the prospect of yet another day in bed I needed something to do. It's really easy for me to find something to do actually, but not so easy to find something that I can manage to cope with doing. Crochet is off the agenda until the shoulder is completely well, I tried it the other week and didn't even manage the smallest scrumble before the red hot knife trying to pry off my scapula put paid to that.*
Today I really fancied getting out the art stuff, that box of water color paints and tools that my son got me last Yule has been begging to be used but I'm not able to sit upright enough yet to paint.  Using color pencils is difficult too for the very same reason, in fact until my lower spine /coccyx eases up, there's some problems to get around.
Not all is lost! I have a tablet! Not the kind that you gulp down either, goddess knows I've plenty of them, but a 7 inch beauty of a beast. A Nexus 7 2013. I know there's better and bigger ones out there but this suits me and now I've got used to it - only taken me 5 months - there's not much I can't do on it. It's on this life saver that my aforementioned problems are overcome.
So coming up is some art work I went forth and created today....

* I'm speaking metorphorically here, it's exactly what it feels like. So don't go thinking there's something incredibly brutal going on in this abode.