Men!

Him indoors went shopping yesterday.  Nothing new in that - because of all my health problems he does all the food shopping anyway and has got it down to a fine art.  No, he wanted to go shopping for clothes for himself.  My heart sank.  You see, all our married life I have chosen all his clothes for him.  Left to himself he would still be in his wedding suit! I know his size down to the last centimetre, I know what looks good on him so he has left it to me.

He decided he wanted some new shorts (now why did he wait until we are rapidly approaching Autumn to decide he wanted them) and a new pair of trousers. I knew this was going to be a major expedition and he would be gone several hours.  I was right.  I did get a phone call halfway through to say he had found nothing in our nearest big town and was going on elsewhere.

Five hours elapsed before he came home muttering about "bloody shops". I asked him if he had got the shorts. " One pair" he replied and disappeared into the bedroom.  He came back in what I can only describe as cut-down trousers - long Bermudas I think you would have to call them.  "Mike, I said, "you do not like Khaki".  "No, I don't " said he "but they are reversible" - lifting one leg to show me the other side which is a garish tartan. "But, you won't wear them that way, much to bright for you." "No, came the reply "but I could  if I wanted to."  Such is the logic of my beloved.

I then asked about the trousers.  He told me he got a great pair, lovely quality - "Of course" says he "they are about five inches too long and will have to be taken up".  "Five inches too long - Mike you know your inside leg measurement - why did you buy a pair five inches too long?"  "Ah, came the reply "if you bought these trousers you got a pair of trainers for five pounds".  Men!!!!!!!!!!

He thought the trainers were so great he insisted on putting them on and keeping them on, white and silver they are.  I did not have the heart to tell him that they make his size nine feet look like size fourteen!

So tonight there he sat in the chair in his Khaki cut-downs, his enormous trainers, snoring, open-mouthed.  I thought - he only needs a knotted hankie on his head and we can dispense with the sign that says "I am British"!

Pass me a catalogue somebody.............

 

Short and sweet

A very brief entry from me today as I have such a bad back (two days nows) that I cannot sit at the computer.  I cannot use heat to relieve it because we are in the middle of a heatwave!  Luckily, him indoors, is letting me rest and he is taking over all the chores.  Bless you Mike!   So I shall just put on a little scribble I did when a friend's marriage broke-up.

PARTING

"Where are you going?" she said,

"Away" he replied.

"But why are you leaving?" she said,

"Because love is dead!"

And she cried.

 

 

Four Legged Friend

Many of you will have had the experience of losing  a dear pet.  The grief can be just as bad as the death of a dearly loved human being.  I penned this when I realized that, at the age of fourteen, the life our our wonderful dog, Brandy, was drawing to a close.  I am sure it will strike a chord with those who read this.

The Old Dog

Deaf now - he does not hear his Master's tread

Nor wag his tail or lift his head at his approach.

Eyes, once so bright and eager are filmy now

And do not see so clearly the grasses and the tree

Where he once wandered free.

The coat, so fine and glossy, is coarser and no longer gleams

As he lies huddled in the chair and dreams his nameless dreams.

The days spent wandering in the garden

Or racing up and down the Daisied lawn are memories now

As he lies panting in the heat,

Looking so old, so sunken and forlorn.

He sleeps most of the time these days and heavily snores

And twitches in his sleep

His stiff legs kicking now and then as  if  running swiftly

Towards some great appointment he must keep.

He cannot know as he lies dozing

The joy he brought his owners down the years,

How, when he was a clumsy little puppy

He reduced them both to laughter and to tears.

Faithful friend and loyal guard

Companion true in times of stress

The trusting eyes, enquiring face

That seem to smile for joy at each caress.

Sleep well, old friend, sleep well

And dream your well-earned dreams.

Your time will soon be done and you will pass

From human sight into that great and wondrous light.

Memories remain to linger down the years

Whilst you shed all your fears and you run

Young again, where no death is, nor age, nor pain -

To bound and chase where life is never done

And roll in greenest grass beneath eternal sun.

 

Copyright 1995

The Strangest Things Can Happen

Do you believe in Coincidence?  I sometimes think that we are guided by a greater and unfathomable power when strange things happen.

I had exhausted one line of my Family tree.  As far as I could get back in time and pretty sure I had covered all the Aunts, Uncles and Cousins.  Well, my beloved was on nights at the time so there was just me, the dogs and my computer.  One night I had been looking through Census records again, trying different sites and was getting pretty fed up with the whole thing.  Anyway, I belong to that Site where schoolfriends get together, you know the one.  So, being bored out of my skull I decided to go on there to see if anyone new had joined, anyone whose name struck a bell as being in my class.   Nothing.  Oh well, might as well logg off I decided.

Then out of the blue a thought came into my head.  Having always been interested in history, even modern history I decided to see who was on my old school list at the earliest date, if you see what I mean. In other words, the oldest member.    I found someone who had left the school in 1929!!!!  I took the liberty of sending this lady a short e-mail asking if she could tell me anything about the school in those times.

A couple of weeks went by and I heard nothing and forgot all about it.  One morning I logged on to find a e-mail from someone I did not know but it mentioned the site. I opened it to find a nice letter saying that the person I had written to was her Grandmother who did not have a computer herself but was delighted that someone had written to her.  The Grandmother had asked if I would like to telephone her sometime for a chat.  I made a note of the number and for a few days did nothing.  Then suddenly she came into my mind again.  I gave her a ring and she was able to tell me lots about the old school and the surrounding area.

After about twenty minutes it came time for our Goodbyes.  Before I rang off she asked me the name of the street I lived in at that time because, she said, she had relatives who lived in the same street.  I told her we knew practically everyone who lived there and we might know them so could she give me the name.  She said R......   .  I said "Not Ethel R....... She said "yes, she was my Mother's Aunt."  There was a stunned silence from me and then I said "She was my Mother's Aunt as well."!!!!!!!!!!!!  Stunned silence from her end.  Then she came out with family names which I could confirm.

Through her I found five more children of my Great-Grandparents that I knew nothing about, plus all their children and Grandchildren and found cousins in New Zealand as well as in this Country.

Coincidence?  Just what gave me the idea to look up the oldest member and what were the chances of her being related to me???  Mind boggling.  I think maybe some greater power had a hand in it, maybe the ancestors themselves who did not want to be left out of the Family Tree.

 

 

 

 

A Haunting Tale

It happened when I was fourteen.

First, let me fill in a little background.  The only recollections I have of my Grandfather are at family parties.However, one memory has stayed with me stronger than all the rest.  I was sitting on a bed and my darling Grandfather  had his arms around me.  He had the most twinkling eyes I had ever seen. He spoke softly to me and let me play with the ends of his moustache.  For some reason this incident seemed very special to me. I remember my Mother telling me, age the age of six, that Grandfather had gone to meet the angels but it meant nothing to me.  I only know I never saw him again.

Forward in time and I am fourteen.  My Mother had just allowed me to start wearing some make-up and some higher heeled shoes but only on occasions when we visited people and I was with her.  I felt very adult.  This particular day we were making our usual fortnightly visit to my Grandmother's house in the East End of London.  Now, Grandma lived her entire life in the kitchen where she kept open house for all.  The parlour or front-room was never used. Well, never is not quite true.  As we entered the front door, the parlour was directly behind it.  We used to take our coats or jackets off in the hall, open the parlour door and place our coats on a chair against one wall just inside the parlour, then close the door and head for the kitchen.  Standard routine.

This particular visit ended.  My mother asked me to go and get the coats.  I thought of the train journey home and how some nice boy might be attracted to me (oh vanity) so decided it would be a good idea to comb my hair and re-do my make-up.  So into the parlour I went, crossed the room to stand in front of the mirror that hung over the fireplace.  I was humming to myself as I primped - so happy with myself and the world.  In the blink of an eye, without any warning,  the air changed.  It was a warm summer late afternoon outside the window but in the parlour it became icy cold.  I shivered and for some reason began to feel a little afraid. Suddenly I felt the pressure of two hands on my shoulders, cold hands but hands they were, I could feel each and every individual finger and then I heard breathing, loud and clear, the sound of someone inhaling and exhaling. right against my own ear. What made it worse was the fact I was staring into the mirror and nothing else was there except for me and the reflection of the room. I could not move, could hardly breath, my heart hammering so fast I thought it would burst.  Was I having some sort of crazy dream?  I rallied myself but no, the fingers were still there and so was the breathing.  Suddenly finding strength from somewhere I grabbed my comb and make-up and fled as fast as I could.  When I got back to the kitchen my mother asked where our jackets were - I had not even bothered to pick them up!!!!  She was about to ask me to go back and get them when something on my face must have stopped her.  She quietly arose and retrieved them herself.

We did not speak much on the walk to the Railway station - only general chit chat about Nan, my Uncle and Aunt.  However, when we were safely on the train in our own compartment and left to ourselves my Mother asked me (a) why had I been gone so long and (b) was I feeling ill because I had returned a deathly white colour and looking shocked.  I told her what had happened.  She then told me that as my Grandfather's illness worsened (he was being nursed at home) a bed had been made for him in the parlour so that people did not have to keep running up and down the stairs.  You might have heard or know that often, before a person's life ends, they get a sudden flush of wellbeing when others often think they might even recover.  Well, this happened to my Grandfather and one December morning he decided to take some of the strain from his wife's shoulders and shave himself.  He somehow struggled out of bed, tipped some water out a the nearby jug, got his razor and went to the mirror to shave. He managed to do almost one side and then - he died - just like that standing in front of the mirror - the very same mirror I had been using. 

My Mother told me that she was certain my experience had been of Grandfather who somehow wanted to tell me he was there or who wanted to say goodbye to me as he had never had the chance.  She said the best thing I could do on our next visit was to go into the room again but this time to say "Hello Grand-dad, just coming to do my hair and get the coats."  I did not see how I could possibly do this, I wasso scared.  However, two weeks later I did just that, with shaking legs and pounding heart I returned to the room and spoke out loudly as my Mum had said.  Suddenly the room seemed to be filled with blazing light and a great heat.  I felt again the pressure of hands upon my shoulders but this time they seemed to give me a loving squeeze.  Then the room returned to normal but I was left with such a great sense of love, security and happiness.

Dear readers, I returned to that room many times afterwards but never experienced anything again although I was to have other strange experiences down the years.  I think my Grandfather had made the contact with me that he wanted and could then move on. When I think of him today I only think of love.

The picture I have posted is of my Grandfather holding me when I was about eighteen months old.

 

Suffer The Little Children

Little Nathan was over last night.  What a joy to hold him in my arms.  He is almost one month old now and starting to take an interest in the world around him.  His eyes are open for much longer periods looking around and trying to make sense of the world.  The surge of love I experienced is beyond description as I cuddled him, amazed again at his tiny hands and fingers and perfect nails.

However, as I looked at his sweet face I saw again in my mind those horrendous newsreel pictures of the famine in the Sudan. Haunting, frustrating because you want to do so much and yet you know that thousands are going to die unless something is done to save them.  I saw again those men scrabbling with their bare hands into the barren soil to dig a grave in which to place the body of a young child as her Mother stood by too shocked to even cry. Then I remembered the newreels of a couple of weeks previously and the report about the growing obesity problem in our own children.

Although Mike and I do not have much (in financial terms) I always give to these appeals.  I get frustrated and angry when I hear others say "Oh, I gave last time", "We have seen it all before", "Why don't those people learn to irrigate their crops and feed themselves."  The truth is that they do.  But these are people driven out through the oppression of others who wanted their land. Women who watched their menfolk murdered and were then repeatedly raped.  Children who had to witness the death of their parents.  Above all it is the children, innocent victims in matters beyond their comprehension or control. Children who could grow up to be wonderful people who lead or help in their communities.  Children  who will never get the chance because their lives are being squandered for lack of the bare necessities of life.  How easy it is for us - if we are hungry we go to the kitchen and get ourselves something to eat.  If we are cold we turn on the heating, if we are sick medicine is readily available.  These children have nothing.  There is no food.  I looked aghast at the dying horse, the rotting animal carcasses, the women sitting hopefully holding out bowls for food.  There was none. They had fled hatred and violence only to end up in camps with only three nurses to tend thousands and no food todistribute.

I hugged little Nathan to me tighter and as I felt his downy hair against my face and neck, I thanked my lucky stars that I live in the Northern Hemisphere. He gazed up at my face, not yet old enough to know that I am his Grandmother but somehow sensing that he was safe and secure with me and trusting that I would let no harm befall him.  Those dying babies look at their Mothers in the same way.

And as I held him I thought how I would feel if this incredible, precious little bundle slowly starved to death before my eyes and I could do nothing, knowing that neither my love, hope or faith could save him. Well, hundreds of Mothers, Grandmothers and Fathers are facing that right THIS minute knowing they will have to place their  beloved dead children in shallow graves in the early morning light and hundreds more will face it tomorrow and the day after and............

As I have been writing this I have also reflected that I am sharing these thoughts with you on a computer.  How much did that computer cost, ah yes, I remember.  Still not exactly cheap are they?  How much did yours cost?  Did you know that the cost of a computer can feed one such family in the Sudan for over one whole year!!!!!

There is an old saying that "Charity begins at home".  I have never believed this, dear readers - no to me Charity begins in the heart, Charity begins in the soul.

Surely, we who have so much, can spare a little?

 

 

Another poem

Decided to put another poem on.  I write my poetry when I am in a very reflective mood or lost in deep thought.  I will tell you how this one came about.  As you will have gathered I have spent years working on my Family tree.  It was much more difficult than I expected because it turned out that so many of the men in my family were military serving many years in the Army and stationed for long periods in numerous places abroad.  Well, one day, I was up at the cemetery visiting the grave of my parents.  I sat on the bench in this quiet, beautiful place reflecting on things and it struck me how regimental the graves were and how military they seemed.  I took a piece of paper out of my bag and in ten minutes I had written this poem which has been published.

DEAD MARCH

In regimental ranks the dead now lie

Silent, at coffined  "Attention"

Their faces to the sky.

And none "fall out" and none "desert"

Their grim eternal posts

And for the Sentry Duty

There can be only ghosts.

And now and then a new recruit

"Falls In" to join the line,

A little mound of fresh dug clay

Provides the only sign

Another soul has signed their hand

Upon Death's dotted line.

No medals these, no cheering crowds,

No bright parades, no bugle sounds -

Now "Discharge" now, no going home

Just uniformed in Essex loam.

Now "At Ease" beneath the ground

They evermore must be

The only march left to perform -

Into eternity.

 

Doesn't pay to be smug

Well, what a storm we had last night much to Mike's glee!!!  You see I had "suggested" he mow the lawn today.  Grumbles. Moans.  "I thought, says he "that is why we got the Rabbits!"  "No, dear", says I "that's cows, you should have bought two cows!"  Withering glances from the beloved.

The poor little things do their best and there is no doubt that whenever you look at them they are chomping away like billy-o but despite their best efforts.......... So, now he has a new complaint.  Not only does he have to still mow the lawn but also  has to move the large Rabbit run everytime to complete the task (no, dear readers they do not even manage to keep down what is in their own run - maybe we have a previously unknown species of self-repairing grass) .

Anyway, like I said he greeted the storm with great joy.  No grass mowing today - far too wet but.............will he get off scot free?  No way!!!!  You see last night we had our first ever visit from a Heron.  I could not believe my eyes at the size of the damned thing.  Thought a Condor had strayed way off course.  They say if you have your pond near the house (and we do, in fact it is right outside our window) that Herons will not come.  We also were daft enough to fall for the the advice of fish books that tell you to acquire a plastic Heron as a deterrent (we did and an ugly bloody thing it is too).  Well, down comes this live Heron and proceeds to knock seven bells out of our plastic one.  It was lucky I saw it.  A frantic shout, Mike and I running outside hotly pursued by our two dogs.  The damn thing flew to the roof and looked at us. I could swear I heard it mutter "ha ha, you can't catch me."

Picture two people, not in their prime anymore doing frantic arm waving and wild dances in order to scare it off. Not a pretty sight.  So today I have "suggested" (if you get my meaning) that he puts a net over the pond. Now this net will have to be fixed to a wooden frame to hold it taut so that the fish cannot be caught up in it.  So, the smile has been well and truly wiped off his face.  Now, he has to go and buy some wood and start building.  That will teach him to be so smug.

In the meantime my once attractive pond looks like a battlezone.  In case the pesky bird made a dawn swoop, we had to throw everything at or rather around the pond, the Rabbit run, a table and four chairs, a parasol and every pot of plants we could get out hands on.  Only trouble now is that I cannot get near it to feed the fish.  Such is life as Ned Kelly once said.

What will I be doing?  Well, it is back to the never ending battle of getting Bindweed out of my flower beds.  I am losing this one I am afraid.  Like the grass, it must be self-repairing because no sooner have I pulled one lot out, I have scarcely made it back to the house before it seems to have returned in the same place!!!!  As if that is not enough, the birds that visit our bird tables throw stuff everywhere so we have sunflowers coming up in the most unusual places, like the middle of the lawn and are expecting a good crop of Barley and Maize this year.  However, we did not expect that crop to be in our flowers tubs!

Now, if I could grow flowers as spectacularly as I grow weeds - I would win a Gold at Chelsea Flower Show every year. 

Remembering

This month marks the third anniversary of the very sudden passing of my dear brother.  Hard to believe - three years since the Police broke the news.  Sometimes I still cannot take it in.  Now he has another Grandson - the second he never got the chance to see and and of course our Grandson Nathan. He would have been so happy.

He was my big brother, my protector, my friend, my confident. He took me out with him even when his friends laughed at him. He used to take me rowing on a local park lake. He did all the rowing whilst I lay with my fingers dangling in the water dreaming my dreams. They were magical times and helped to make the rest of what went on in my childhood bearable.  He was witty, clever, artistic - a wonderful painter who also wrote great prose.  A very kind and gentle human being. I miss him and always will.  I would like to share with you this poem I wrote for him on the anniversary of his passing last year.

For Buddy

I see it still -

Those sun-bronzed arms dipping the oars in steady rhythm

Into the sparkling water.

The light catching the short golden hairs

As your muscles flexed.

The unruly mop of hair that fell forever

Across your forehead

And the chipped front tooth - the

Only flaw upon your radiant smile.

Oh, but to be back in time for just a little while,

Golden days upon the golden lake

An arrowhead of ripples trailing in our wake.

You, like a young god who could tame the fiercest lion

With a shoulder strong that all who knew you could rely on.

With you I saw my first film,

Sitting so proudly by your side

Safe in the knowledge that you would

Protect me from all harm

And that your arms would defend me

Against life's storm.

Bedtime stories came alive with you

We were Robin Hood and his Merry Men

Sinbad, Aladdin, Cinderella - we were transported

From our humble home into a world of magic.

The troubles of the outside world could not impinge

Upon our joy

Nor dim my love for you, my golden boy.

Suddenly, you were no more -

From life to death in but the blinking of an eye,

No time to voice unspoken thoughts

To speak from the heart

No time for us to whisper our Goodbye.

You left a void, a black and ugly place

That none can fill nor ever take your place.

The years have passed yet still my heart could break

At memories so strong which I embrace

Of all those golden days upon the golden lake.

 

 

Tongue twisted part 2

On another occasion my dearly beloved did it again only not quite so bad this time.

I was one of those ladies delivering cosmetics door to door. Well, one evening I had so much to deliver I asked him to come and help me .  At the time the company in question had just bought out a new perfume called Charisma.  So I asked my dearly beloved, while I went to one house with the delivery, he would deliver next door.  I told him to mention to the lady of the house the new perfume and I told him not to forget it was called Charisma.

Well, off he goes and I hear him ask the poor woman if she would be interested in trying "Camiriser".

What a good job I am used to his little ways and can put up with them.  On the plus side, I could not have found a better man to share my life with.

Tongue Twisted

Well, after receiving warming support, I have decided to continue my journal.

I promised a funny story .  Well, it is hilarious still to us and hopefully you will feel the same.

My husband is a wonderful man but he has never had a way with words, frequently getting things around the wrong way or coming out with strange things.  He is not only Dyslexic but I think tonguelexic as well!!!!!

His most embarrassing gaffe (and I have his permission to relate this story) happened one early evening a few years back.  I had seen a video advertised that I quite fancied watching.  I am not usually into sci-fi but this seemed to appeal to me.  So off we went to the local Video store.  Well, the video store is quite large with hundreds and hundreds of titles and I could not find the sci-fi category and was not having much luck locating what I wanted.

The film in question was called "Enemy Mine"  As time was passing and we had not eaten, in desperation I turned to Mike and asked him to go to the counter and ask for it.

Well, he duly marched up to the counter and asked in a very loud voice for a copy of "Enema Nine"!!!!!!!!!!!There was a deathly hush and then the staff broke into gales of laughter as the manager said "I think you might find that under the Adult section".  I had to swiftly explain, with burning face, the real name of the film we wanted.  They gave us a copy and we exited very fast.  Guess who never went back to that shop again.

Mike I love you darling but............

Humorous Census

Talking of family trees...... I often access the census records I have on C.D. rom.  Not for my family, I have all the information from census records already, but because I am interested in history and to be honest - just plain nosy!!!!!

Looking under occupations can often raise a laugh and leave you wondering.

For instance I came across two occupations that amazed me.

One man gave his occupation as "Tiger Killer".  Now, I may have missed something somewhere but even in Victorian London I cannot imagine that the city was awash with man-eating Tigers!!!!!  Was he employed by the zoo to put down any ailing Tigers they possessed.  If so, his occupation would only have been carried out on very rare occasions.  Or maybe he shipped off to India whenever they had a rogue Tiger problem but unless they paid his way he would have spent more than he earned.  Maybe he was just winding the census enumerator up and the poor soul wrote down exactly what he was told. On the other hand the Tiger killer could have been roaring drunk and came out with the first thing that came into his head!

The second man described himself as a "Peacock carrier".  The mind boggles.  Were they alive, dead or stuffed??????? and just where did he carry them to and why?

I got a wonderful mental image of a London street, packed with Hansom cabs and horses and strolling along, whistling to himself was a man with a struggling Peacock under each arm whilst coming in the opposite direction was another man wearing a pith helmet, crouching, his rifle raised to his shoulder ready and waiting for any stray Tiger that might leap out of a doorway!!

Makes being an I.T. technician, secretary or plumber seem very mundane doesn't it.

Maybe when the next census rolls around I should enter something exotic under my occupation. Let me think........... how about Octopus ink squeezer.  That would certainly give a few giggles to future generations but I doubt the government would let me get away with it.

Guess I shall just have to stick to housewife or better yet - Residential Household Maintenance Operative!!!!  Anyone got any better suggestions?

 

 

Our new Grandson

Our first Grandchild, Nathan Dean will be three weeks old tomorrow.  We are still so happy and can hardly believe it.  He had a tough entry into the world but is doing really well.  Neither Mike (my husband) or myself feel like Grandparents.  Well, they say if you keep your mind young!!!!!!!!

We look forward to some wonderful times ahead with him and his Mum (our daughter Becky) and Dad (son-in-law Dean) especially as we waited a long time for him.

Now back to reality.  It was Monday again - where do those weekends go? Spent most of the morning hanging around waiting for a new washing machine to be delivered.  Our old "Bessie" gave up the ghost after 12 years of continuous service and it was a re-conditioned machine to start with!!!! If white goods could earn medals then I guess she deserved one.  She is now standing out in the back garden along with all her packing.  Looks like a phone call to the Council as it will never fit in the car to go to the local tip.

After the usual round of other chores I finally got the washing done at 4.30 p.m.  Luckily the weather was good and yes, it did dry.

Am waiting for re-actions from relatives I have sent a copy of the family tree to.  Only one branch of the family completed in "book" form so far.  Isn't it amazing how you can ask and ask people for information, they promise it and never deliver but as soon as they get wind that the project (or the part that features them) is finished - there they are standing with their hands out!  Not that I wanted any payment for the research but it cost quite a bit to get each copy "bound" so to speak and the postage was enormous as some were going abroad.  It would have been nice if some offers had been made towards that cost.

The people who were not forthcoming with information about themselves will no doubt moan now that there is not enough about them in there. You just can't win can you??

Well, I guess I have wittered on enough for today.  (makes mental note to self -I must remember to update this journal) and now dear readers, as Zebedee said "Time for bed"

 

 

 

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