Journal Entries
Bored
Posted Dec 21, 2010
I've become bored with H2G2.
The profanity filter and general tweeness has really gotten on my 
lately. Its become sooo Enid Blyton
I'm also weary and irritated with it's inanity, the psudo intellectuals and the poilitical correctness - this isn't Life as I know it - it's Life as the moderators want us to portray it.
And there's far too much Life in my Life to have a lot of time for the internet nowadays. Too busy, and far too happy to need to write about it.
I'm off to Facebook where I can say A*r*s*e* without anyone getting miffed, when I have the time on my hands
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Latest reply: Dec 21, 2010
Well, *that was fun...
Posted May 6, 2010
A mixed day - the morning was an absolute drag and the afternoon was enormous craic.
I was persuaded by my Pain Clinician to attend a "Pain Management" morning.
Now: word gets around about these Pain Management jaunts within the disabled community. We're physically disabled, and/or in chronic pain that's all. We arn't hard of thinking.
We've figured out the difference between acute and chronic pain, and most of the people *I* know have done loads of reading up about their various problems, so much so that they *possibly know almost as much as the experts do about what research has been done, and speaking personally, I usually make sure I'm first in the queue if I hear of a treatment that I feel may possibly help me.
I wouldn't include me in the heading of "Expert Patient", mainly because if I see too many "Ologies" in an essay I come over all perculiar.
And all of us with chronic pain recognise there's a process... whichever route you take, you eventually accept the pain ain't going to go away, so you have a choice - give up, be passive and take the nice tablets... in other words abjurgate responsibility for ones welfare and then moan like the clappers nothing's being done for you...
OR...
you accept the situation and make sure you make the best of it; it's a matter of trial and error as to what works because pain is subjective.
So I was dubious when I was asked to go to one of these letures, voiced them, but agreed to go with an open mind.
And I honestly did.
I had a bit of a grumble to myself that the venue was off the beaten track, but told myself not to be such a grump. When I finally got there... guess what? It's up a flight of stairs.
Ah. That's intelligent, thinks I..and then said "You go in with an open mind, right?"
So I booked in, and was told in a funerial whisper that refreshments were availiable - I'm sure she had qualifications hanging out of her ears and knew her stuff, but I wonder if anyone's told her that you don't have to do the "Does she take sugar?" routine to a disabled person? I swear to god she was fresh out of college and probably hadn't had more than a period pain in her life!
We got the intro talk, and the same lass couldn't work the slide show/ powerpoint presentation. So the Pain Nurse took over and told us all about how there's really very little that can be done for chronic pain, despite research... although there are exciting new ideas they are looking into We were given a very long potted history as to the (apparent) procedure that Primary and Secondary Care follow before those in chronic pain are put back into community care.
We then went on to the Nature of Pain, with an explaination of the autonomous nervious system.
Looking at the Agenda, I could see that we were then going to go onto How Our Pain affects
(a) us
(b)others around us
and then onto helpful hints and tips like regular stretching, gentle movement, not becoming stressed, Learned Behavioural Response and Cognitive Therapy, pacing ourselves and so on and so on.
These things have all been covered in the excellent self help books I've either been recommended by professionals or friends, or have found out for myself. I was ahead of the possee ANYWAY because of H2 -there are quite a few of chronic pain sufferers here, and I may seldom have joined in with the conversations, but I've read and learned a lot; so much so, that the knowledge has become almost second nature.
After another break we were to have a lecture on positive visualisation/meditation, and the last three quarters of an hour were taken up by the one T'ai Chi teacher in my area who is recommended by the local Pain Clinics to give a talk...and pick up a few more clas members, I suspect.
I've attended a few of his classes and... yes, T'ai Chi is cool... but I don't like him personally, nor the way he teaches. I just wish I coud find a teacher I gel with.
So I wasn't too impressed by the whole thing, and when the group was asked "Does anyone want to leave yet?" I said yes please, politely gave my reasons for leaving early, filled in the feed back form...
and left.
The plus point - the ONLY plus point, as far as I was concerned, is that on the way back to the station to get home there's a whacking great Garden Centre that just begged to be mooched around.
Hyancinths were going cheap there; which is quite rare, because most of the ones I've ever encountered are pretty mute
So by the time I got back home, I wasn't really looking forward to doing my bit for the election, which was a couple of hours of Telling - which means I was one of those people who lurk around outside the local Polling Booths asking to take a note of the voter's electoral numbers before they go into vote. I was well out of sorts and shtomped down to the local polling station with a heavy heart.
I thoroughly enjoyed it!
In my constituancy there were only 4 parties standing, and of them 2 of those parties were represented. Doesn't matter what colour rosette I wore, and frankly it doesn't matter what colour the other woman did, either.
We really did have a laugh; I think I've met yet another new friend since I moved "here", which is great. I certainly felt we were on similar wave lengths, which means, really, there were 2 rather eccentric ladies cackling together like two thirds of a coven and generally just enjoying what we were doing....
- we held the voters dogs' leads (with the dog attatched, obviously) whilst they went in to put their X on their bits of paper.
I got harangued by an old bloke who said "Oliver Cromwell would be spinning in his grave if he saw the state the country was in"
I did manage to keep a straight face though and so did Mrs Woman sitting next to me as well.... until he was out of eye/ear shot, of course.
There's nowt as queer as folk, there really isn't. 
There was a really steady stream of voters, far far more than I'd imagined there would be and not just the middle aged and the elderly, there were loads of first time voters,too.
According to the figures I took, it averaged out at around a voter a minute.
That's a lot of people for such a small area, I think
Parents brought their children along with them, and one young couple brought their 5 day old daughter along with them whilst they voted. My admiration knows no bounds for her mother; 5 days after giving birth, the last thing I'd have wanted to do was sacrifice valueable nap time to vote!
And a couple of the local councellors joined us, from the 2 parties represented, and the craic was mighty; I haven't had such a laugh with comparitive strangers for an awful long time... one of them brought us both a coffee in from town, which was welcome.
So... I've discovered politics are fun!
And one of the councellors was highly fanciable
I wonder; is that a politically correct thing to mention, on Polling Day? 
Discuss this Journal entry [3]
Latest reply: May 6, 2010
Dirty Rotten Inefficient, Kerniving
Posted May 4, 2010
...people, tha they are, within a certain customer services department that deals with my land line and computor
When I've stopped wanting to kick the wall down and can string sentences together that only contain an occasional expletive I will do.
In the meantime,if you're even considering changing to the company whose name rhymes with "Walk, walk"...don't.
Just don't.
Not even just to point and laugh at them.
Discuss this Journal entry [9]
Latest reply: May 4, 2010
Bookshelves, lack of space and runner beans
Posted May 2, 2010
Well; Eldest has arrived in Oz, and last heard of this morning, was setting out to go fishing to catch his lunch in pleasantly hot but not sweaty weather.
(He has a way with words, does that lad)
Naturally, today being Bank Holiday Sunday it absolutely piddled down all day with an absolute vengence, thus curtailing my ambition of mooching up to the local D I Y store and buying yet more paint to slop around the flat.
Instead I did yet more sorting and culling of Stuff I have acquired, and sneaking out to the vegetable patch every so often to inspect the newly planted runner beans, grinning quietly that they have no excuse not to grow and thrive. I provided the Grow More...and nature has provided enough liquid to get the wee beasties clambering up the wigwag support system.
Scab the Stray deigned to stay overnight last night, waking me just the once (at 3.00am) to demand more Fishy Whiskas. Needless to say
(a) he didn't get it and
(b) He can deign as much as he likes, but no cat's going to wake me up to feed them!
Well... not on a regular basis, and certainly not unless they're poorly.
I may be a soft touch cat wise, but I amn't quite *that soft!
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Latest reply: May 2, 2010
Moving On
Posted Apr 29, 2010
It's been a hectic few weeks, and frustrating in some ways, too - civilisation obviously begins with the abilty to contact others, and without my landline
(I don't care what *anyone* says, mobiles are the rather expensive work of the 
and don't count as communication tools)
I felt like I'd had an arm amputated.
Finally, after an awful lot of palava, tantrums and a complaint to Off Com, my landline and broadband provider took the hint and I'm back in the land of the sort of civilised.
So here I am, just under 2 months in my new home... I have carpets,decent decoration, at least half a set of wall unit built onto the Big Wall in the living room - that, apparntly will be finished this weekend -and above all....PLANTS 
- Most of the seeds I set have burgeoned, and the flower beds are already overflowing with colour. It really is glorious to have a garden again.
And the local stray - dubbed Scab, because it really does have very little to reccomend it as a loving, soft, purry furry cute kind of a cat - has spotted a new mug at 100 paces, and allows me to feed him twice a day, whereafter he occasionally deigns to shed fur and small parasitic friends on his own royal purple velvet cushion in my living room.
But only when he feels like it, of course.
Which brings me onto today; tomorrow my first chick flies the nest.
Literally.
He's off to Australlia tomorrow on the noon flight, for at least 2 years. And if I know my son, I reckon he'll want to stay a lot longer than that. It 's been good for all of us as a familly, that I left the lads to take over the tenancy of the old flat -with the landlady's blessing, of course - a little while before Eldest leaves the country.
It's given them the space to learn, without me quietly smirking and saying "Yep - *TISN'T so easy to run and houseand find cash to pay for everything and juggle it and still have a life, is it?"
And I'm impressed with how they've managed - I know I needn't worry about Youngest being a good tenant; If it wasn't for the fact that I have custody of the washing machine I do sometimes wonder if he'd visit me as much as he has done!
Naw... I do the lad a disservice, actually. Both he and his brother have been an enormous help and support to me, doing all the heavy, lumpy jobs I really can't do during the first few weeks of moving into the new place.
This last week with Eldest here in Britain is bitter sweet; I'd be a liar if I said I don't worry about him - but I know from experience you can worry oneself sick and it doesn't help the person you're worrying about one jot or tittle, so it's a waste of mental energy, so I do my best not to worry. He's young, he's canny, he's resiliant, he's smart and he's had a good upbringing by a stubborn, bloodiminded survivor. He's got a friend who'll put him up when he gets to Perth, and a job lined up. I *have to believe he'll be alright.
But today's his last day in the country and I can't help feeling sad. I want to hold that great hulking lad in my arms and never let him go.
His brother has - on his own suggestion, bought him a St Christopher medal from both of us to give to him after we've all had supper at mine, together. That streak of mysticism - he's not a religious lad - and sentimentalism from Youngest rather surprised me. I'd thought of it myself, but dismissed it on the grounds that it's an extravigantly soppy gesture, and he'd be better off with an extra wedge of cash to go away with.
But hard boiled youngest rang up and suggested it yesterday and... yes; it's one of those things I want to do, too. I want Eldest to have and hold something tangiable to remind him that we're only a phone call or email away. That we love him.
I tend to do "practical" you see. I tend not to *do soppy any more.
But hey, if you can't do extravagent and sentimental occasionally there's probably something psycologically wanting within you.
In a couple of hours time they'll both turn up to mine,and I'm serving up shepherds pie; that's what Eldest wants, because I make the best shepherds pie in the world, apparently. I shall crack open a couple of bottles of wine that a friend brought me back from France the other day so it's a bit festive.
I shall eat sparingly, because I know, no matter *how good a shepherds pie I make it's going to taste like ashes this evening, and I shall drink very little because I don't want to cry and make what should be a happy occasion sad.
And once I've said a brave and cheerful goodbye to my eldest lad, and seen them out of the gate, and listened to their foot steps going to the bus stop...when they're out of ear shot and eye shot, then... I shall probably cry a river. And finish off the wine.
I've always said my children were on loan to me - as a parent, I was their guide, and their mentor - I taught them all I could, offered them whatever of my life expeirences that were relevant, and hardest of all, I stood back, when the times were right and let them make their own mistakes when I *could have molly coddled them. You spend around 18 or 20 years teaching them to stand on their own 2 feet, to be self reliant, self sufficient, compassionate.
And then you stand back and let them fly.
They know they can always fly back to me, out of choice and not necessity after all. Whenever they want.
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Latest reply: Apr 29, 2010
Moving On
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