A Woman Of No Importance

A la recherche du temps perdu...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Sun, 27 May 2012 17:11:00 +0000

Good grief, this is my longest ever absence from my blog...

Merci bien to those of you who have wondered what has become of me.

I wonder that too.

The blog and I are indivisible, interchangeable, entwined and forever linked by our shared memory.

But stuff sometimes gets in the way, as I think we've all found. De temps en temps, as they say in the land of frogs' legs and mussels in wine.

I know we were all suffering from the winter blues a bit chez Crawford Towers. Winter seemed as if it was having a revenge for not having been harsh enough and signs of spring were tardy in their emergence.

Even the little lambkins were struggling, it was so cold, damp and miserable, as only the Green, Green Grass of Home can be here in the UK...

Meantime, we walked through treacle at the Towers. Grizzler came home from Uni for Easter and we were treading on egg-shells around his lithe form, recumbent upon the sofa, in all His Majesty. It's his second year. He's a lot like his Mum, and I struggled like a b@rsteward through my second year, I mustard mitt...

Finally, the stress is over. Even temporarily. (Breathes sigh of gin mixed with relief!)

And then, for the past couple of weeks, it's been unseasonably warm and I've had pet baby leeks to pot on, pet rats to wrangle and my trip to London to see the Queen to plan.

As of tomorrow, it's upon me. Yayyyyy!

My GBF Donty may be even more excited than me by the prospect. We're going to see What The Butler Saw by Joe Orton, as well as just generally being degenerate across the city.

Well, we're almost 50, who could blame us?!

Soon I'm going to share a recent textexchange we had. It certainly made me laugh out loud.

I needed to laugh muchly, as my tears and anxiety have been too oft my companions these past few weeks, while I've been a la recherche de something. I don't think it was temps perdu.

Perhaps it was, after all.

A toute a l'heure mes bloggy may-blossoms. Je vous aime.

Beaucoup!

I shall give your best to the Queen. Probably while I'm tripping over a corgi or two! LOL...

Meanderings Of An Unforgotten Life.

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 22:18:00 +0000

I haven't forgotten about blogging...

Or you!

The Red Shoes...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Fri, 06 Apr 2012 15:35:00 +0000

Last time I was here I mentioned my latest pair of shiny red shoes. I wear red shoes a lot. They're my 'go to' shoe! And, unlike many women, I'm not a big shoe person. I try to hold onto comfortable shoes for years, and hate buying new ones, as I fear they will tear my tender toots to shreds.

As they often do!

I like handbags, though. I've got a red clutch bag that I adore and wish I could use more. It's very like this one, made by Karina Hesketh, via Pin Up Polly.

So, red shoes. I'd never really thought about it until a therapist, not mine, noticed my shoes recently - She drew an analogy to the film, Red Shoes, by Powell and Pressburger. A film that I'm not terribly familiar with - About why I choose red shoes... What draws me to them.

I like the colour red, for a start. I'm currently sitting by the heart(h) of my home and it's painted a warm dark, almost-blood-red. So are two other walls in the room. The rug under my feet is deep red wool with a small Rennie Mackintosh-style rose stripe.

This has got me thinking now. My kettle is a red Duralit model. We've only just thrown out the matching toaster, because it no longer functioned as it ought. The new one is silver and looks like a commercial toaster - I like tough things! I'm prone to being a little bit cack-handed when it comes to handling implements...

I started to ponder on the subject of red shoes. And then I realised that I don't think I've ever been without a red pair - of boots or shoes - in my wardrobe.

I have a short 'Pixie'-like pair of boots for winter. Once they're on my feet, I hardly ever take them off. Lourdes knows what I'll do when they finally wear out! I'm hoping they won't. Ever.

I've also got a calf length pair which I haven't seen since before last winter, and when the kitchen renovations began a lot of schtuff went off with the house-faeries!

Thinking back to the Eighties, I wore a matching pair of teetering court shoes in rotation for my work in a factory shop-floor's office - Very 'The Rag Trade' - One was blue, one red.

At University I remember going with my then boyfriend, now my husband, and his friend to a shop in the city where I fell for a long red pair of lovelies that kept my tootsies warm for years...

I wore flat shoes a lot then. Turquoise pumps with a yellow star across the front. I remember another pair that were orange with green soles. I like colour in my life and I'm not afraid of it. For years I did steer clear of black as it made me look very pale. Now I've made my peace with black. I've also always had a black pair of shoes too, while I'm on about it.

Black and red - I used to wear black and red combined back in the Eighties. A colleague said he believed they were my 'war-like colours'. I might have been angry during some of those years, when I couldn't achieve promotion at work, owing to recruitment freezes, in spite of my bosses telling me I should have ambitions towards promotion. I became a little twisted then. All those years seem so far away from my life as a fledgeling counsellor and soon to be trainee psychotherapist now, I must admit...

My favourite ever car was my red Alfa Romeo. We had an earlier mustard model, but the red stole my heart until it rusted to scrap on the drive-way. I thought it looked like a crouched tiger when it wasn't moving. Red obviously features muchly in my life.

Why?

I found this short article - Well, why do the work, when someone else has? I'm ~~lazy~~ good like that!

"Scientists have finally made a breakthrough, tackling an important issue close to the hearts of many people: “Why do women wear red shoes?”

Dr Elaine Webster, a Sociologist from Otago University, New Zealand has spent the past six months asking why women wear red shoes. And, she has concluded that young women wear them for excitement, and out of a desire to be noticed; whilst most men associate red shoes with sex and sin.

Dr Webster, whose long term interest is “dress and identity” conducted the research after being impressed with the way that women spoke about their red shoes. She said:

Women always say ‘my red shoes make me feel great, I love my red shoes’. They never say ‘I love my brown shoes’.

Many of the women interviewed made a connection between their red shoes and Red Shoes, the film of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairytale, or Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.

Dr Webster believes footwear, more than any other items of clothing, has a special quality in our lives. And red shoes are a way to lift you out of a drab and ordinary existence. She stated:

Women and some men wear red shoes because they’re really wanting a richer and more exciting life than the one they are living."

So, I have no life but live in and through my dreams. 'Nuff said, non?!

You knew that anyway, right?

I think I need to put a clause in my will to ensure that when I dance off this mortal coil I'm buried with a pair!

Oh, and Happy Ostara by the way! Mwah! Gotcha with a big fat slobbery, but nice, kissy-poo!

Serves you right for lingering over my red shoes!

Somewhere over the rainbow...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 14:07:00 +0000

I've been over HERE at Mad, Manic Mamas twice this week.

Blink, and you missed me! I deleted my first post there, after getting some enormously helpful advice.

My bad.

Also, I'm going to share with you the delights and delectations of my life this past week and a bit, since my sojourn, walking with the dead:

I bought some beautifully decadent (albeit practical) red shoes from Fly London to replace my last pair of red shoes from Clarks, a style incidentally which I've been wearing for several years but which they no longer make... (Weeps).

I nursed my son, who came back from Uni with a stomach bug and 'flu, back to health and back into his flat (apartment) again! The ~~bugger~~ boy takes up far too much space on the sofa!

I've had a two-day stomach bug and 'flu in return, which was nice.

I've been overly anxious about Some Stuff, including losing a friend who seems to have slipped from my life.

I've created a Facebook account for this blog. See button in sidebar.

I've forgotten the password for that account. And the Googlemail account associated with it!

I've put my first ever item up for sale on E-bay. (Other auction sites are available)... ~~I need the money.~~ I'm ~~successfully~~ down-sizing.

I've tried to stop some compulsive skin itching and skin picking things that I've had for ~~years~~ a while, without understanding they might be linked with a disorder associated with anxiety, and also with self-harm. Eek!

I'm talking about it, because many people feel such shame attached to it, and because some others may not even be aware that they do it.

I'm nice like that, see?

I'm about to embark upon another intensive weekend of psychotherapy training. Help me, Jesus and Mary Chain!

I bought and did not yet watch.

This DVD.

And this one!

(My guilty pleasure).

I got very into this piece of TV.

The high temperature and stomach bug that rooted me to the house probably helped me have the concentration to enjoy it, but I did!

I do like Kiefer Sutherland. And he's less raspy than in 24, which means I don't have to turn the volume up too loud to annoy the neighbours, who appear to have been using this unexpectedly fine March weather to bang, drill and hammer ~~nine bells of shite~~ away to their heart's content. Whatever can they be up to?

~~They're probably getting their own back on me for the racket I made putting in my new kitchen.~~

~~No, I haven't forgotten that I still need to put down new flooring and decorate.~~

~~And, no, I hadn't forgotten that I promised you a bloggy Oscar Giveaway on this very page...~~

I've been too ~~lazy,~~ ~~half-arsed,~~ ~~ill,~~ busy.

Love you anyway! Oh, and here's a pic of me in my sexy new red shoes!

You want me, don't you!

...She electrified the ordinary.

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Original picture courtesy of Les Bessant.

Good grief, I find that this is my 600th post. "I have wasted my life!" ;)

I have tried to resurrect a fallen blog-post, and I have failed - This is long, read it and weep. I did! (Not really).

Indelible, Miraculous

friend, think of your breath

on a cold pane of glass

you can write your name there

with an outstretched finger

or frosted, untouched grass

in the early morning, a place

where you can dance alone

leave your footprints there

a deep pool of silver water

waits for you to make waves

the beach is clean after the storm

the tide has washed away yesterday

we all matter, we are all

indelible, miraculous, here

This is Julia Darling's poem, which inspired the title of my 'lost' blog post I was lamenting earlier this weekend.

Since then, there has been much whining into over-filled cups and glasses, but I have got a grip of myself and will be undaunted by the Beast of Blogger.

Nil carborundum illegitemii, as they say in Genoa. Ooh, that's made me think of cake now!

So, last week I was inspired to take a pleasant walk, having bought a local guide book from the City Library. On Mondays and Wednesdays I spend some time in the Library ~~lazing~~, ~~slouching~~, studying for my course and I occasionally peruse the little book bargains there - At the same time I managed to procure a book for my hubby that concerns 'Disaster Glasses' - Terribly peculiar to the North East, these are the locally made glasses, rather amateurly engraved, which commemorate memorable events, such as pit disasters (hence the name 'Disaster Glasses' silly, do keep up!), drownings, and occasionally something far more pleasant, such as the opening of a bridge! It wasn't all doom and gloom, whippets and flat-caps oop North, I'll 'ave you know! The book was £1. Bargin, innit?!!

Anyhoo, I treated myself to a little giftette for Mother's Day - Doesn't every Mum get herself something?! No? Just me then!

The book I parted with a few scheckels for concerns the history and inhabitants of Jesmond Old Cemetery, near to Newcastle.

The cemetery was set up in the 1830's, as was the famous Highgate in London, to attract the more wealthy paying 'guests', who would reserve plots in the grounds or even in the catacombs, to spend their wee small hours in peace and tranquillity, amid butterflies and birds...

I love old cemeteries, me! Especially those in Paris.

Armed with the guidebook, I passed through the architect John Dobson's white stone gates and started to walk amid the monuments and graves. The cemetery has been rather neglected for years, smothered in sharp bracken and greedy ivy and here, an angel with arms outstretched heavenwards had lost her hands. There a smaller angel stood to attention before the broken gravestone of the man whose tomb she had once stood atop. I myself was standing at the foot of the largest monument - To Archibald Read, when I was very rudely assailed by The Hound of the Baskervilles!

I stood, rooted to the spot, as a mighty black dog of some description, probably wolfhound crossed with yer actual wolf, via Florida crocodile and Shetland Pony, and here he was lolloping in my general direction, with intent, long tongue dangling from a mouthful of razorbill teeth, ears flailing, eyes raving! He looped around me, as I grabbed a pillar of the monument to steady myself. In the distance The Hoond's owners wandered into view, as he bounded up at me again, then halted sharply as they called his name, rather hoarsely. I didn't catch his name, the blood was rushing so in my ears!

They saw me rigid there and apologised, chastising The Hoond roundly, heading in a different direction with the Beast, a brown dachshund, for some inexplicable reason on a lead, and another hairy misfit, also leashed... I called after them, "I thought it was the Hound of the Baskervilles!" They laughed nervously. I think I've been watching too much of Jeremy Brett's The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes of a morning, for sure!

Whither The Hoond, I wondered?

I wandered on, past architect (Dobson) and Victorian philanthropist (Laing), by famous merchants (Fenwicks and Bainbridge's) and someone who at one time was the fattest man in Britain, landlord of the Duke of Wellington in the city. There was even a famous artist, whose resting spot I never found.

I found the day mild and the company fascinating. The earth was moist underfoot, anticipating the warmth of spring to come. The air stood still, and the silence was only broken as bracken crackled in my path and snagged at my legs. Midges buzzed around me, full of life and as annoying as hell. A raven cawed.

More recently brought to earth, here was a former SAS soldier whose stone was marked "Connie", for his name had been Peter William Francis. I chuckled at a memory that was not mine, but I felt privileged to share - In the midst of life, etc...

What caught my eye as I moved through the newly emerging stones, as much work is ongoing to resurrect the cemetery to something of its former glory, a table-like mild grey stone caught my eye. Here, the writer and poet Julia Darling was buried in 2005. She was 48. My own age. Cancer carried her from the world, leaving two daughters from her marriage, and her partner of 15 years, Bev. Julia's grave carries that eternal symbol of the sisterhood of women...

I traced it with my fingers. Julia's words, winding their way around the stone, chosen by her, intrigued me - "We all matter, we are all / indelible, miraculous, here..."

As we are. And on that note, I shall draw matters to a close here with her poem End, which foreshadowed her sad but accepting exit, so it happens...

For more information on the bold Julia, click HERE. I hope I haven't made you sad with my long blog...

Anyway, Easter - or Ostara - is just around the corner and I've seen some springy new lambs already, so all's right with the world, non?!

End

Eventually, I was placed on a bed like a boat
in an empty room with sky filled windows,
with azure blue pillows, the leopard-like quilt.

It was English tea time, with the kind of light
that electrifies the ordinary. It had just stopped raining.
Beads of water on glass glittered like secrets.

In another room they were baking, mulling wine.
I was warm with cloves, melting butter, demerara,
and wearing your pyjamas. My felt slippers

waited on the floor. Then the door opened
soundlessly, and I climbed out of bed.
It was like slipping onto the back of a horse,

and the room folded in, like a pop up story
then the house, and the Vale. Even the songs
and prayers tidied themselves into grooves

and the impossible hospital lay down its chimneys
its sluices, tired doctors, and waiting room chairs.
And I came here. It was easy to leave.

...we all matter, we are all / indelible, miraculous, here...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Sat, 17 Mar 2012 17:27:00 +0000

I just lost all of this earlier post, and I think I'm about to cry - Short of trying to resurrect it, I feel embittered and worn out by the bar-steward that is Blogger. Excuse my French cousin!

It was a really nice post, inspired by a recent walk in a cemetery, embellished by having encountered the grave of an author and poet, Julia Darling, who died in 2005 at my very own age...

I was enchanted by the words she chose for her flat, table-like gravestone, some of which form all I have left of the post now - Its title, as above.

I then wrote the post, for over an hour this morning - Went back into it to finish it off, having selected some lovely photos, and then Blogger deleted all my words and pictures when I pressed something, which wasn't the Delete button, and then auto-saved, like the bar-steward that it usually never is!!!

I might re-write it, but I do remember I used to only type in Wordpad, or something similar, and then I got to trusting Blogger again.

More fule moi...

I know I won't remember all of it, and I'm sad about that.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Julia's friends used her words, and spelled out "She electrified the ordinary", around the stone as well...

I wish, one day, somebody could find themselves wanting to say something similar about me, I guess.

Meanwhile, Blogger needs to be taken in hand by an electric chair!

The Versatile Blogger Award...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Sun, 11 Mar 2012 11:28:00 +0000

My dear bloggy friend, Scriptor Senex, was very kind enough to offer me his Versatile Blogger Award - Blushing, moi?!

It came on a day when I was feeling a little whimpery, thinking I was a boring old sod, so it meant a lot to me - it did! Thank you, Sir!

As a sideline, I have to gift you the following - Seven Factlets About Moi...

1. I hate housework, so I do very little of it - Can you see my shameful face, children...?

2. I have had only one therapy session in which I haven't cried since I was referred to a personal therapist last year! Why?! I'm one of those people, yes those, who wanted to be a therapist to support others, but didn't for the life of me imagine that I needed therapy - Go figure!

3. I think everyone in the world would benefit from some therapy in their life - Hell, if I didn't think I needed it, and I'm seeing the benefits, who knows what it could do for you?! My business card is in the post - I'm very reasonable!

4. In spite of my hunger for culture and the arts, I love nothing more than lying in in bed of an occasional weekday morning, watching The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes on TV, or Judge Judy, or even little bits of The Real Housewives of Name Your State. I am THAT shameful!

5. For two years, like the delightfully versatile Scriptor Senex, I've been studying my Family Tree, from time to time - I've discovered a long-distant grandfather who was buried on Holy Island in the 1700's, after serving the island for many years, when he fled from Scotland and having all his furniture burnt in front of the Manse, for saying he wouldn't pray for William and Mary - I long to see his will which is in Durham's archives...

In addition, I found a distant-distant aunt who was a maid to a well-known Justice of the Peace - they both lived in Wordsworth's birthplace in Cockermouth - I am astounded! I can't find records of her marriage or death, so the trail went cold, sadly, but still fascinating...

I also discovered that lots and lots of my relatives lived within five miles of where I've come to be living now - I pass some of the farms on which they worked every day, and one of the water-driven woollen mills that they worked in during the mid-1800's is now a holiday complex - HERE - Bizarre, hein...

6. Haven't I told you everything already?! Sixth factlet... I think I'm running out! I gave up chocolate in January - For six months. The story that I'm managing this addiction well is nothing to do with the fact that I've substituted cake in its place... Can you see how red Fhina's cheeks are, children? No?! Then, you're obviously not looking close enough, lol!

Seriously, I don't know how I'm going to manage Easter without a chocolate egg!

7. Oh no, not more... I really struggle with people who are control freaks in their lives - I can feel the blood boiling under my skin when, for example, someone wants to micro-manage me to within an inch of my life. I am a grown-up, people, I don't need hand-rearing!

There you have it.

I think I have to pick 7 bloggers to carry the baton, so here goes - Remember, you don't have to if you don't want to... :

1. Sara @ Fab, feisty and fifty - My best bloggy amie - She's terrific! Her newest baby is HERE - She's a Bag Diva Extraordinaire!

2. SueAnn, @ SueAnn's Journey - who's a fabulously versatile artist and blogger - Her art is immense!

3. Desiree, the glamourously splendiferous model, who blogs at Pull Your Socks Up. Elle est incroyable!

4. The lovely Elisabeth @ Sixth In Line who writes like she was born to it, and never ceases to amaze...

5. Bad Penny @ The Hen House who's incredibly versatile and wonderful - She has such a full and fabulous life, I get quite dizzy when I read her blog!

6. A new reader, follower and writer Love and Enterprise - Sharing some of the things that make us human - Thank you! I don't know where some of my followers have gone to these days - You win some, you lose some - All are welcome here!

7. And finally, last but never least: Mrs Jones Home Thoughts from Home - Between knitting, crochet, gardening, art, making jewellery and playing the saxophone in a super band, Mrs Jones continues to make me open my eyes wide with glee!

So, there you have it - Have fun, bon courage, mes bloggy chums!

Mwah!

Me, myself, I... And the other angels...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Mon, 05 Mar 2012 00:17:00 +0000

I pinched this from a lovely lady - Given that I have not been a good blogger lately - I am currently fighting a pitched battle with my last-but-one assignment for year 3 of my counselling course and am nursing a snozzly beak at the moment as I have another cold! I thought I could just cheat a little and run a sort of meme...

Everybody say "Ahhhhhh!"

There's another instalment of this bilge, by the way, when I realised this posting was pretty long in the tooth!

Anyhoo, here are 11 random facts about me - Courtesy of the delightfully wonderful and wild Vix, Queen of West Midlands Vintage, she's 'on tour' with Gilbert the Camper at the moment, but she usually blogs magnificently chez Vintage Vixon:

I played the violin from the age of 9 to 19;
I never knew it, but my great grandfather had been the Second Violinist in an important working men's orchestra in my town in the Thirties...
I love stained glass art and studied it for 6 years - I am just waiting for the right time to get back there... This art is by Sylvia Laks - Gorge!

I speak three languages well, and two more badly!
I am addicted to cheese and biscuits!
I grow competition leeks - I think you knew that, already?!
Gerry Rafferty is such a musical hero of mine - It's a year now since he died...
I've never read anything by the Mitfords - The idea is anathema to me because of the characters!
I've written seven chapters of a novel, but then my laptop broke, so I don't know if I'll ever be able to get it, or that time, back!
I worry too much that I'm not a very interesting person and have sneaking paranoia when I'm stressed...

Here's Sandy's questions:

What is your favourite dessert? I am a stickler for anything chocolatey these days, so Tiramisu! (NB: Currently I am trying to do without chocolate for 6 months - I may not survive!)
If you could live in any decade which would it be and why? I think as I've already lived through some of my dream era - The Sixties - although I was a bit young to appreciate it, I'll plump for the Edwardian era - I'm currently fascinated by it...
What is your favourite Disney film? Was Bedknobs and Broomsticks Disney?
Who is your favourite historical person and why? I'm very fond of Marie Stopes, for without whom we would still be living in the dark ages for women's health...
What is your favourite book? Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. It's true! Reader, I married him!
If you were given £1000 to spend in any one place, where would you choose? I'd be off to Paris in a squeak! Here, in fact, the Old Navy on the Rive Gauche...

What is your favourite childhood memory? Of my Dad pulling me along on a sledge through the shallow snow as we traversed the pavements of my childhood town on our way home in the twilight. He had made my sledge for me. I have such happy memories of it. And him.
If you could hold a dinner with only 2 other guests (dead or alive, celebrity or historical) who would they be? Oscar Wilde - for his wit and the gossip, and Stevie Nicks, because I'm an obsessive fan, lol!
What would you choose to be your last supper? Cheese on toast as made by my late Dad. No-one has ever made it nicer, before or since...
Name one beauty product you couldn't live without. Toothpaste! If we're talking proper make-up then it'd be lip salve!
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? Paris, most definitely - For the culture and scenery, for the food and quirkiness of the people - I'd also have a pied-a-terre in Nice, for the sunshine and faded grandeur!

Here are Sue's

What was the name of your first love? He was called Brian - I know if I met him again today we'd hug as if we were best friends - We were both five when we met and then were parted for years when my family moved house, until we met again in our twenties par hasard - The big bear hug I got in front of my husband, who was with me, needed some explaining later!
What was the first car you owned? Goodness me! It was a Lada Riva, which I could never drive very well, but the first car that was mine own was a 'C' reg Nissan Micra. Nowadays I drive a Nissan X-Trail and it's just as easy to handle as the Micra, believe it or not!
Who is your favourite TV character? I think it's Wile E. Coyote - I love the fact that he's perpetually thwarted, and never gives up...

How did you meet your partner? I met him at a University ceilidh - He'd gone with his sister, my then-friend. Our eyes met and that was it! (In reality, I asked him to dance with me and he drove me home - He said later I wasn't his type, but I think I terrified him into asking me out!)
What pisses you off the most? Like Vix, bigotry and I'd add racism.
If you weren't living where you are now, where would you live and why? See above for Paris.

What's your favourite drink? Mine's a Guinness or a Bombay Sapphire and Slimline Tonic. I also like the odd pint of Lime and Soda to wet my whistle!
Confess something naughty! I once 'lifted' a particularly pretty glass from my table when I was at a conference - It slipped into my conference goodie bag nicely when no-one was looking - It's a particularly vivid turquoise glass and I still have it... That and a perky cream Novotel mug which caught my eye about fifteen years ago at another conference! I promise you, I don't make a habit of it - I is a good girl really!
If you could be reincarnated, who would you be and why? I wouldn't mind a spell as a famous female author or poet, someone like Joanne Harris or Elizabeth Barrett, who was married to Robert Browning and whose poetry inspired Poe and Emily Dickinson - I'd like a life devoted to writing and lounging, I think.

What skill would you like to learn? I'd love to be able to sing properly - I love it, but I am awful at it!
If this was your last day on the planet, how would you spend it? With my family and friends, telling them how much they mean to me - We'd be on a sunny beach somewhere, eating nibbles and sipping all kinds of exotic cocktails and we'd be at peace with one another and the world...

A few words from our sponsor...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 11:53:00 +0000

Hello Campers,

About to post a mega-length blog, so just a short one todays!

Please, those of you who have the word verification torture on your blogs, please (for the sake of my sanity) remove them!

I cannot be arsed with any more faffing about with your comment boxes and the practically unreadable script it wants me to retype, and then my computer throws a hissy fit and chucks me out, while it apparently attempts to download all 97 volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica!

I live in the wiles of the country - Oop North, where the dragons and bears be...

My BT webmaster thingie goes about as fast as a knackered antique spinning wheel would.

Yes, that fast!   It's not the Infinity warp factor speed gizmo.   No.   Some days it'd be quicker if I could comment on blogs longhand.   Seriously.

Just letting you know.   If you have that nonsense, that's it from me comments-wise.   For.   Ever.

(And that includes my beloved Moannie, from whose blog I have just returned with much gnashing of teeth and a complete re-boot of my system.   Or two!)

So there!

I don't get the trolls on my blog really, and I've been here over two years now.

I don't allow anonymouse comments, that is all I need - The Chinese spammers will spam whatever we do - They're Chinese. They're allowed to be inscrutable.

Don't make me release the flying monkeys.

They always make such a mess!

Film 2012...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Thu, 23 Feb 2012 12:41:00 +0000

Alright, I know I've been absent a bit. Pretty vacant, really!

I've been working like a dog, sleeping like a (an insomniac log), and eating like a hog for days...

This week has been a pretty tough one, and I have an Intensive Weekend of creative skills practice and psychotherapy coming up.

Yesterday I treated myself, as I'd been working so hard, and I went to see The Descendants.

The fact that George Clooney was in it had nothing to do with me going to the cinema for only the second time this year! I have a lot of catching up to do with movies when all this study is over...

Review: I liked it. I think it's too easy to knock popular, so-called middle-of-the-road movies that deal with the 'worried well' (because they don't have problems too?!). I mean, what's two hours in the cinema unless you've had to labour over tragic socio-demographic mores and plundered your social conscience that we should all 'do more' to help others...? Or you've managed to shoot up a couple of aliens, terrorists, or more?

This is a gentle film. Relational, true to life, banal, if you like.... I read it described as tragi-comic - I laughed in parts, but managed not to sniffle my way through it - So the therapy must be working, right?

I loved the soundtrack, featuring real, beautiful and poignant Hawaiian music and musicians. If it doesn't get best soundtrack for the Oscars (I don't even know if it's been short-listed), I'll eat my Buckingham Palace hat! CLICKIE for a taster, and even more lovely CLICKIE HERE.

I enjoyed the little quirky touches - A goat tethered to a house-lawn, Clooney inelegantly schlepping half a mile to a friend's house in ill-fitting boat shoes, looking every inch the harried rich Dad that he portrays. He seems to have slipped under the skin of his character. He's not playing Clooney the Charmer here.

I loved the supporting cast, all brilliant, including a beach-bum cameo by Beau Bridges, one of my favourite actors. Clooney's teenaged daughter, played by Shailene Woodley, will surely be tipped for even bigger things.

In other words, the first film I went to see this year was The Artist.

Would you be surprised if I said I loved it? Perhaps you think me easily pleased. Maybe I am. There are some things about me I might not want to change.

The love of simple films is one of them.

Go see The Artist, if you haven't already. Don't watch the trailer on YouTube - It gives the game away. I hate it when a trailer does that - I prefer to keep my expectations suspended, as if in aspic. I like to make my own mind up about a movie.

The Artist is a wonderful and beautiful film too, very French, very entertaining. It pays lots of homage to earlier silents and even surrealist movies...

It's brilliant. A classic. Clever. So redolent of the Thirties. The stars are terribly talented, especially DuJardin who epitomises the stars of the era, like a cross between John Gilbert and Douglas Fairbanks Junior.

The 'coat scene' with Berenice is truly moving. I felt she came somewhere between Mary Pickford and Louise Brooks. The dog, Uggie, is a true star, obviously. I found it a very touching and unique movie.

It may sweep the red carpet at the Oscars. J'adore Les Oscars. CLICKIE.

Remember, Fhina's Bloggy Oscar Give-away will be coming around soon!

Meantime, here is a little, behind the scenes vignette. It's en Francais. Gird yer loins!

The Long and Winding Road, with pink and red emotional highlights...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 13:28:00 +0000

Well, the official invitation to the Palace Garden Party arrived this morning. This means my ol' mucker and me have passed the official checks and scrutiny!

We shall await the Invitation Proper from the Palace "in 6 - 4 weeks time", according to the letter...

Honestly, the Civil Service Departments have gone down the pan since I left! Sheesh!

What else has happened. Ummm... I seem to be procrastinating about how much work I have to do on my course over the next three weeks... I've conducted or officiated at a number of weddings, and observed a wonderfully sweet Civil Partnership... My kitchen and utility room are more or less finished, but not the flooring, blinds or decor just yet... We've had GJ's successful and intimate 50th Birthday celebration.

...And, Grizzler has turned 20 - Yikes! Where did that time go?!

I haven't heard back from Alnwick Garden yet, which may indicate that my enjoyable assessment day there has not been a fruitful one, work-wise... Tant pis.

In other news, I met up with a wonderful dear friend, Elle, for morning coffee last Sunday. I was trying to persuade her to turn some of the fabulous stories she has told us for years into a blog. She is the funniest woman I think I know, and beautiful to boot. I love her to bits, ever since we first met when I moved back to this northern region from the Highlands of Scotland in the year Grizz was born. That means we've known each other 20 years. Amazing. She hasn't changed a bit.

Through and outside of therapy, I've been reflecting on how our lives take the paths that they do. For without being pushed from my nested job within government by that cuckoo, David Cameron, and his poodle Master Clegg, I would not have my lovely little job in counselling, albeit as yet unpaid.

Without the trauma therein, I would not be witnessing and celebrating weddings which are such joyous occasions for me, albeit stressful; Without having to move with my husband's job back from the Highlands, I would never have met Elle, or possibly even Sara of THIS blog and this wonderful PHOTO...

My life would not be as rich without them and other valuable friends in it, such as Karina, who makes me laugh on FaceSlapBook and whose bags are to die for... Recently, she's been channelling her inner patriot to make some beautiful things in celebration of the Queen's Golden Jubilee Year, using vintage scarves and ephemera. Stunning.

And, not to forget, other bloggy friends here and abroad, that goes without saying...

Elle took her own decision to depart from government a year before I did. She then fell into a number of little jobs to keep her going, but has been sorely let down by a less-than-honest employer. She now finds herself in the place I was in several months ago. Trying to find what it is she wants to do at this stage in her life... I feel for her; It's an odd, and somewhat scary position for anyone to find themselves in...

Finding who you are.

Do we ever stop, do you think? Looking out for that little girl, who wants to hold on to those balloons, but doesn't want to take her feet off the ground?

p.s. I don't deliberately intend to miss things out of my blog which have international reverberations, like developments in world news or the tragic death of WH, with whom I share my birth year. I was personally saddened by her loss, although I did not know her, nor was I a particular fan of her music but I know she did touch hearts with her voice.

Perhaps that's all that any of us need, to love and be loved and to touch hearts?

And hold on to those balloons!

This week in words and pictures...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 18:59:00 +0000

The dream kitchen approacheth.

I rub its surfaces gently with oil and paper... I place well-used utensils in its corners and crevices. I open its soft-closing drawers and marvel at its newness, its loveliness...

Last week, I cuddled its dishwasher. My proper first dishwasher! We are nursing the new American style fridge freezer into its first days of life... It is now settled and stable; It will soon be ready to serve.

Smitten, moi??!

And, in a telephone call from Her Majesty's Secret Service (namely the Department of Communities and Local Government - which we used to call Declog!), I was invited to a Garden Party.

At Buckingham Palace.

Me!

I was politely asked if I would like to attend a garden party in one of the months running up to summer. Are you joking, I beamed with glee. Of course I would! What??!

I was given 24 hours to come up with my 'Plus One'. I knew GJ would decline. He might kick a corgi!

I asked Grizz, of course. Who best to accompany his Mum, and what an opportunity...

In the end, it turned out that my second-best partner my GBF, Donty, snapped my hand off - He was so amazed to be asked. I think he'll be the perfect partner to meet and greet with 'Her Maj'', as he calls her!

He's cock-a-hoop. I'm just startled and surprised.

I'm delighted that someone thought well enough of l'il ol' me to put my name forward for an invite...

This week my wide smile might even begin to wear off.

Don't think so though!

I'll keep you informed, mes bloggy buds... I will. I've already bought me dress in the sales!

Next stop, a hat or fascinator...

What would you wear?

I am all corgi-ears! Ah, imagine the blog-fodder!

The Kitchen Cometh...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 00:34:00 +0000

While dreaming of the potential grandeur of the kitchen of my dreams (above), this week has mainly been a fraught one...

Pulled from pillar to pole by duties, beauties, responsibilities and playfulness, I am cream-crackered - Knackered, shattered, exhausted, en-ratted even!

I took part in two marriages. Beautiful, they were, in their simplicity and elegance. I duly registered the first. This involves writing out the marriage certificate (while 'spoiling' 3!) and entering the full details of the wedding in the register, which is kept in a safe vault for centuries. It's important to use registrars' ink rather than ordinary ink, as it is more permanent and less prone to fade or corrode over time on paper, which ordinary ink does apparently... It's a devil of an ink to get off your fingers or clothes. Put registrars' ink together with a bride in an expensive white dress and you've a recipe for disaster! Thankfully, only my fingers were victims.

I just watched the second, where a lovely lady in her fifties married her boss. Both of them looked surprised and delighted to have found one another unexpectedly, and the bride sobbed with joy throughout... I really find it hard not to cry at weddings, which is somewhat off-putting for guests when you're officiating! I find a lot of pinching my hand is involved.

I've upped my voluntary counselling practice to two days per week. This is the last year of my three year course, which is a bit intensive as it was truncated to two years in any case! The race is on to get my counselling hours up to the required 150 in order to graduate from the programme this year... I love the work, I really do. And, like weddings, I feel it's a real privilege to support people at a crucial and fundamental time of their lives...

It takes its toll on me, however! While I'm writing this, it's Sunday night at twenty-five to eight and my bed is calling my name like a Siren from the Sea!

On Thursday, I found myself here at Alnwick Castle and Garden:

Ancestral home to the Percy family for over seven hundred years, and where bits of the Harry Potter movies were filmed, I was at an assessment day for potential seasonal workers... I met some lovely local people and took part in some bizarre and clever tests, so they could see our creative potential to become employees of the Duke and Duchess... One test involved me, blindfold, pushing a girl around in a wheel-chair in the gift shop. The idea was that we communicated effectively enough so that we were able to collect two items safely and soundly. It was more fun than it sounds, and a very useful exercise in understanding the challenges facing visitors with disabilities.

I am like a bull in a china shop at the best of times, so this was a real exercise in control for me!

I don't know how I imagine that I'll fit additional work in to my schedule - if I'm lucky enough to be selected - but I quite fancied the chance to do some temporary work in this fabulous location, a world-class tourist attraction, and I'd be welcoming visitors to the beautiful Castle and Garden.

Also, since I've started signing cheques to the bold and beautiful workmen to pay for said kitchen, my legs have started to wobble a bit, and it's time to think of bringing money in rather than paying it all out.

After all, I've my own castle to see to!

Questions that run through my mind...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 10:34:00 +0000

Why is it, that when you have men working in your home - And these guys are kindly, but not without considerable recompense, removing my decrepit thirty year old kitchen to replace it with a shiny new one! -
They work with the back door open allowing freezing cold wind to roam through the house??!

And, if they're removing my kitchen cabinets, why are they drilling holes in the walls?

Out-Laws...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 11:30:00 +0000

For bold and beautiful Suldog, yes, my father out-law ran himself over in his own car by doing the following: Dropping my lovely sis-in-law off for her Christmas 'do', he got rather disoriented and lost in a town he doesn't know so well. Panicking about having to get back to look after his five year old grand-daughter (the man is over 85 and she was sitting peaceably at home with her very capable seventeen year old brother in any case), he drove into an industrial estate where he found a taxi-driver sitting in his stationary car.

He did a lightning manoeuvre to drive up to this man to ask directions before he drove off. He jumped out of his manual car, not applying the handbrake before getting out, and then slipped on some ice so he was under the back of the car... Calling to the taxi-driver, while holding the car back as long as he could with one hand, the car proceeded to slowly run over his ankle.

The taxi-driver rang for an ambulance, pushing aside my pa-in-law's stupid insistence that he was all right. He was many hours in A & E. I don't know if my sis-in-law left her 'do'. I'd suspect not. He was eventually released with bad bruising. He was in fact very lucky. He is, and all evidence points to it, an idiot. Again, we were informed about this accident, rather casually by said sis-in-law, on New Year's Day. Not when it actually happened.

In similar circumstances, when she was in hospital pending the birth of her daughter - My niece - She had been abandoned by her then-husband, I was anxious for news. I had to resort to ringing her work-place, to actually find out whether she'd had the baby, or not. What does that tell you about our state of family affairs, mes bloggy silver birches?! Hein?

Disfunctional, that's what!

I've very little sympathy for him. Or even her. After years of mistreatment at both of their hands. Christmases ruined. Accusations and anger - Theirs. Madness and selfish behaviour - Theirs. Fulsome neglect of his own grand-son - My son. And making lots of efforts to put things on some kind of track with them - All mine. A few years back, I decided to put my own mental health first and I try to be dutiful, but I don't feel anything towards them and their idiocy now. I don't. They're not worth it.

Am I bitter? I was. I would have wanted some kind of relationship with my nephews, my niece. I would have wanted to be an aunt to them, like mine were to me... I valued them so, being an only child.

Instead, I am a distant auntie. They have some relationship with my son, admittedly - My nephews at least. But, even he tired of this family's antics some time ago. He has both our surnames - My son. Out and about in life, he chooses mainly to use mine. He had a magnificent relationship with my father, for which I shall be eternally grateful and thank the stars in the firmament for it.

It is a hard lesson to absorb for a teenager, I fear. To learn that your grandfather is no hero, but an idiot. And that your aunt is feckless, self-absorbed and a bit of a waste of time. I waited for him to form his own opinions on all this - He rarely heard a word from me on the subject. What he witnessed was enough for his young and fertile mind.

I started to write this post this morning, full of the stuff I have been doing lately, which has kept me from blogging for a time. Some very positive things that are helping me move along somewhat, after years of treacly grief and 'being strong' for others and neglecting myself.

Maybe I just needed these few moments, to mourn the passing of what might have been with them, and get this bile out of my system...

Sorry but, for listening:

Happy New Year - New me? Know me?!

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 23:50:00 +0000

Well, this Christmas and New Year holiday has been a bold, relatively quiet and muchly daft one...

We've had no snow to speak of - Just a few short flurries which didn't do any damage - Do you remember, we've been snowed in for the past three years until cabin fever set in and I threatened to eat the chair legs!

We've been mainly ferrying a somnambulent and nocturnal teen (he turns 20 in February *gasp*), as he segued from one social appointment to another, returning every other day to refuel and snore the rafters loose (or was that me?!)... It was like having to take a toddler off to playdates again! This meant we could go nowhere special...

We spent part of some evenings in the pub, catching up with gossip - Who's put whose windows in, driven their car into a ditch, run off with whose wife, that kind of thing - Toasting our tootsies by the fire - Drinking our spoils from the Annual Leek Club Bottle Draw - (I won back the ghastly bottle of white wine I had in fact donated!) - while trying to avoid the fall-out from the septuagenarian landlord and landlady, who are my sort-of substitute parent figures, but who are also at each other's throats over her plans to semi-retire, finally and long-deservedly... This situation will be resolved in one way or another, I'd guess. I hope it's happily.

A lost earring of mine - Silver, with a tiny heart that dangles - resurfaced. My friend had only recently gifted them to me for my birthday. Phew! I am hopeless with earrings, but I do still love them.

Meanwhile, I watched some of the films I had been longing to retreat into, and became a part of my sofa. I even squeezed in Hitchcock's Rear Window, with my favourite, Jimmy Stewart!

We stoked the stove, burning coal on it for the very first time and occasionally feeding it fragrant logs.

We tickled the rats and, at the same time, learned something about neuroscience from scientists LINK.

Sadly, Grizz broke up with his lovely girlfriend (owner of said rats). We think that means we've got custody... We don't know why they broke up and can't find out... I know it's not our business, but we are sad about it...

In other news, with my 'gin-goggles' on on New Year's Eve, I bought a beautiful handbag in local designer, Karina Hesketh's, sale. I've lusted after it for months at full price, and then I take it as an omen that if no-one else has bought it in her sale, it and I are meant to be... Karina's going to be designing some more soon. Oh dear. Mind you, I do only buy one-ish of her uniquely designed and beautifully hand-made bags a year, so I can't be described as anything like obsessed. No...

This is a metallic pink leather brogue bag with a cross-body strap, integrated with a vintage (Fifties'?) scarf depicting the Dolomites in Italy. This is a bag that called my name, like a Siren ensconced beside the River Coquet!

And, we learned on New Year's Day (but not from Bono) that my eighty-plus year old father-in-law had run himself over with his own car... Three weeks ago. And my helpful sister-in-law only saw fit to inform us on New Year's Day...

I rail against my socially apathetic in-laws, out-laws, I do!

I don't know what I can do about them? Obviously nothing... 'You can't teach old dogs', etc!

Meanwhile, I build bridges, forge friendships, make amends...

Happy New Year, mes amis, bold and beautiful as you are...

I wish you all that you could ever wish for yourselves...

For myself, all I require is some peace and some certainty.

Meanwhile, your love and comments are enough!

Merci mille for you and them. Mwah! Well, the mistletoe's still up above the doorway, so I'd suggest a kiss is in order!

Love and Lights, Camera, Action!

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 13:27:00 +0000

I've come down with a bug, which may (or may not) have been very responsible for my 'stuckness' the other day here in Blogworld.

It's a right royal 'mare, as I was starting to feel very Christmassy.   For the first time in years, really.   And I do confess to loving Christmas for its hope, its magic and its sparkle

The deaths of my Mutti and Dad.   The loss of my Uncle.   All the ~~shit~~ stuff that had happened to me and my colleagues in the workplace.   The endless shift and shuffle to try to find work.   Being in therapy and over-thinking everything!

So today, when I have half risen from my fetid pit, I feel up to exploring my 10 favourite seasonal films, designed to fill us all with magic at this (or any) time of year...

Come on in, put your feet up! I know you've been very busy lately...    There'll be time to drag the Yule Log in later, I pwomise.

Number 1: Practical Magic - A favourite pick-me-up at any time of year - Not especially Christmassy, but it does contain many doses of magic - Not for the faint hearted or tiny children, contains some witchery and scary scenes/references to murder and death. But the house is soooo beautiful!

Number 2: While You Were Sleeping - Again, one of my favourite actresses, Sandra Bullock, plays the lead in this lovely little romantic comedy, with Bill Pullman (grrrooowwwwlllll) as the 'hero'. Sad and lonely train ticket-seller, Lucy, saves the life of the glamorous man she's been obsessing about, but doesn't know... She is taken to be his fiancee and warmly accepted into the bosom of his large and loving family while he lies in a coma. (It's really not as dark as it sounds!) As she falls into love with his family, she runs the risk of losing them if she is forced to tell the truth. But his brother is on her trail...

Number 3: Mousehunt - What's not to tell?! These are just about my favourite films, right, so I'm bound to say that this features more of my favourite comedians and actors - This time, Brit Lee Evans, fabulous Nathan Lane and mad as a box of frogs, Christopher Walken. This is a family movie about brothers who inherit a beautiful but decrepit old house that has a previous tenant - A tenacious mouse. The story unfolds as they try to rid the house of the mouse... Mr Walken is the scary rodent exterminator - If you've not seen their comic turns before, this is a real Christmas treat. Favourite line, when they go to Rescue to try to get hold of a vicious cat as mouser, the attendant says about this CGI cat in a box:

"Funny you should ask. I had all but given up on anyone wanting him.   We were about

to gas him again"

Nathan says, "Again?"

Number 4: Millions - My earlier review of this wonderful sentimental, crazy-beautiful film by Danny Boyle is here CLICKIE Danny is going to be involved with the 2012 Olympics Opening Ceremony from Great Britain - Can't wait!

Number 5:   National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation - Christmas wouldn't be Christmas in the Fhina household without the Family Griswold.   Griswold is what we seasonally call Grizz!   This film may be bad but it is good for a laugh - Say no more!

Number 6:    Scrooged - Mad, bad and dangerous to know, Bill Murray is in full flow in this cracker of a bitter-sweet/light/dark movie. Following the original story of Dickens' A Christmas Carol, Murray is taken through the car-crash of his life to discover the true meaning of Christmas. There's a wonderfully mad cameo by Carol Kane, and sometimes I feel a little 'stabby' myself:

Stay for the credits, and this sweetie:

Number 7:   About A Boy - Based on a best-selling book by Nick Hornby, while perhaps not a typically touching Christmas epic, you can't fail to be moved by this movie and its glittering soundtrack - Hugh Grant 'phones in an archetypal performance as a lazy and cynical trustafarian, earning an easy living from his grandfather's holiday jingle and passing himself off as a single parent, so as to more easily trap single Mums - He is thrown together with the brilliant Nicholas Hoult, a twelve year old boy with a chronically depressed and suicidal mother, who is struggling to cope and trying to work out what it means to fit in...   Or not.   Together, they learn some valuable life lessons and find themselves.

Number 8:   Comfort and Joy - Director, Bill Forsyth, is one of my home-spun favourites and here he manages an intimate and amusing portrayal of familial ties and rivalries:   I love Scottish actor, Bill Paterson, playing radio host, Alan 'Dickie' Bird, who finds himself embroiled in Italian ice-cream van wars in Glasgow.

Number 9: The Holiday - I only discovered this little gem last year and I didn't want to enjoy it, but I got sucked right in!   I also don't usually like Jude Law, but he is bearable in this film, featuring one of my favourite actresses, Kate Winslet. An English girl and an American media mogul swap houses for the holidays to get away from their tangled love lives, and instead get embroiled in each other's lives, and find new love...

I want to live in the English cottage that Cameron Diaz comes to live in - Don't you?

Number 10: Your Choice?    Please let me know in the comments...   Yes, I know I've not included some real stars, such as It's A Wonderful Life - Confession Time, again - I've never seen it! But I'm interested in your favourites, I am!

Have a Wonderful Yule Celebration, Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukkah and have fabulous holidays, everyone - May I wish for you this season, all that you could possibly wish for yourself, and most of all - Joy and peace - Mwah! - Gotcha!      xxx

Stuck...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 23:27:00 +0000

It's that time of the year, although I've never found myself in this place before...

I am well and truly stuck - For blog material, for words to describe where I'm at - I'm at what we call in Therapy an impasse.

I am enjoying reading your words out there in Blogworld.

I am thinking of Christmas and what I have left to do.

I am contemplating having some time off from therapy and work over the holidays to re-charge my batteries.

My lovely son, Grizz, has broken up with his long-term girlfriend and I worry about them - I do, but I won't interfere...   Will she want the rattykins back, when we are so ensconced with them now?

I have no weddings until mid-January.

I need to read some books to catch up on therapy work.

I am contemplating taking the counselling course forward for another year, so I can call myself a Psychotherapist.   I have to make that decision in January.

Today is my birthday and I spent it in College, although I met my lovely cousin, David, whom I call "Coz", straight from Shakespeare, for lunch.   He was sweet.   He always is.   Sweet and wonderful and clever and slippery.    He likes to be slippery!   I think it's a quality I need to cultivate.

Perhaps if I were more slippery I'd not get as stuck as Pooh in the wooky-hole, or honey-tree, whatever it is he gets stuck in?!

A bientot, mes bloggy reves...

Soon, with better stuff, greater inspiration and less stuckiness!

I'm all ears...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 00:08:00 +0000

I am fur-deep in working on a psychotherapy assignment due to be handed in at a time of year when I should really be snoozing, and perusing my last bits of Christmas thingummy-bobbies I need to get hold of, to stop my head from falling off with blind panic!

December's also the month of my Birthday, with GJ's big Five-O milestone Birthday coming up in January - For which I've got a party planned - Eek!

I'm meeting one of my bessie mates from Uni on Thursday for a decadent and languid lunch at a beautiful spot in the Cathedral City of Durham.

I've had to postpone a visit from a kitchen designer in order to honour my prior appointment with her - We've now known each other for thirty years, which is frightening when you think of it. Her son is my godson, she has a lovely older daughter too, and I love them dearly although I probably only catch up with her about twice a year if we're lucky... More's the pity.

I'm terrified at what the kitchen is going to cost me, though - And I wonder if any of you can make any recommendations for reasonable priced stuff, as my builders favour Howden's and I don't believe for one moment they're going to be as cheap as chips! My existing kitchen was thirty years old and dilapidated when we first moved in almost ten years ago, so we're desperate for a functional kitchen that we can sit and eat in - Well, blog in, in my case!

On Saturday I had the pleasure of marrying a delightful couple who were only in their early twenties, just as I was when I married GJ twenty-five years ago!   One of the registrars referred to them as "bairns".   And I thought, yes they are, and I was!   Next weddings for me will be in January, so we might get some of the anticipated awful northern British winter away before then...   We've a smidgeon of snow on the hills as of this weekend.

December just seems like the kind of month where you have to squeeze a pint pot into a half!   We're off to see Lindsey Buckingham in the middle of the month, just before my birthday and I'm also hopeful of the promise of a late lunch with some ladies who are regulars from our local pub, who fancy a bit of a "do" at a posh Italian restaurant nearby.

Suldog asked me last post whence came the expression - "I couldn't give a flying kipper's fart!"

I thought I must have picked it up somewhere on my travels.   Turns out it's mine, I think.   I googled it and found no result except on my blog - Skrikes, I'm off again!

And so, if I don't see you through the week, I'll see you through the window, mes bloggy lovers!   Ciao bellas!

This fantastic image of the atmospheric ruins of Dunstanburgh Castle in December by photographer Guy Edwardes. Stunning. PLEASE CLICK FOR MORE ABOUT GUY.

And I'm just going to leave you with this beauty from La Bush:

Meme...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 09:44:00 +0000

This week I began, for the first time, to counsel on two days a week.   It feels as if I am going in a direction of travel;   Towards my new career.   I hope so.

This work, in a rural GPs' surgery, is unpaid.   I volunteer to do it.   I love it.   I hope, in time, once I am qualified, it will bring me a little bit of income.   I cross my fingers and my eyes and make a wish!

Poof!   The dry ice smoke lifts and my life is transformed at once.   I am in work, being paid for it and full of a sense of my own purpose once more.   Losing my job as I did was a blow to my self-esteem and confidence, sans doute.

I struggled for a time with who I was without a 9 to 5 to define me.   I was proud of the job I did, the career I had.   I felt it was a worthwhile thing to be occupied doing.   I was close to the chalk-face, making a difference to people's lives, helping them out of deprivation, creating a small impact on the region's child poverty levels.

Now I make a difference in a different way.   While we live in a different world, one that seems as if it is cracking at the seams, where our current politicians couldn't give a flying kipper's fart for us.

I hope, in time, to run together my counselling work with my little casual job as a marriage celebrant.

Next Saturday I shall don my civilized black suit, black heels and a white blouse.   I shall straighten my wavy hair, so Boho, you know!   I shall marry a couple I've never met.   I shall smile at their guests and beckon them in to the large room.   I will essay to calm their jittery nerves, to reassure them that they won't be tripped up by their vows, I shall talk them through the process and answer any questions they have.

Only last week a beautiful bride suffered 'a wardrobe malfunction' according to her smiling groom. The zip of her divine long purple dress had broken while she travelled by car to the venue and she was in the ladies' toilet being safety-pinned together by her bridesmaids. Thankfully, given the season, she had a cream fake fur shrug for warmth.   Slung artfully across her shoulders, it drew her guests' attention away from the hasty repairs. Theirs was a beautiful ceremony. They were gorgeous and so in love, so happy.

And so I sit at both ends of the spectrum.   Right at the start of joyous married-life plans, and where it all begins to unravel for some people and they feel anxious, depressed, sad, overwhelmed, fearful and frightened.

I see it all.   It sees me.   I am proud of myself.   I quieten my own fears therein...

For a while.

Have a fun-filled week, mes bloggy chums.   Watch out for the snows.   Please know that I care about you and thank you for spending time reading my rubbish!   Here's a picture of the inside of my mind to keep you playful today!

A Loss of Face...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 16:06:00 +0000

While signing myself into my/our other blog - THIS ONE PLEASE CLICK - I only managed to lock myself out of this one.   Gah!

I feel under the weather this week already, and it's only Tuesday.   I was in bed at half past five last night, although I didn't go to sleep until after nine and was still awake for some of the night that passed.

Anyhoo, until my blogging mojo has proper come back to me, I'm over at Mad Manic Mamas, feeling very much like the title, that is 'mad and manic' and pondering on the nature, comme d'habitude, of love, life and loss.

Thanks to therapy I'm coming to terms (I think and hope) with a lot of loss in my life in the past few years.

We don't always acknowledge it, non?!   We want to prove we can be big and strong; to show that we can cope; to show the world;   to give witness that life won't get us down.

What are we trying to prove?    What?   And to whom?

I'm not sad, I'm not down, I'm just being thoughtful is all.   I'm also busy with new clients, an assignment, the tail-end of Christmas shopping and rat-wrangling.

And I'm also over at Mad, Manic Mamas...   Probably all this week.   Please come see me.   Yerp, I'm needy.

Cleaning house, a missive from below stairs...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 00:20:00 +0000

This week I have been mainly resting my bones, as my hubby went down with an episode of bursitis, which is more commonly known as 'Housemaid's Knee'.

Sure, the man pushes the Dyson about the floor from time to time, does some of the cooking, makes up the fires and has taken to cleaning out the ratties when I used to do it far more quickly...

But Housemaid's Knee? Come off it!

Still, it's been a week of reflection for me, while trying to make him comfortable in his swollen agony, which allowed me to spend a little more time in Blogworld than I normally would. Which is nice.

In other news:-

1.   I rescued a confused pigeon (or 'flying rat' as my ex-brother-in-law, the eminent psychiatrist used to say!) from the window of a shop.   Noticing the pigeon behind the glass, coo-ing out at me, I understood he was not destined to be a part of the cheap but cheerful window display. Unless I've missed something and live pigeons are very 'in' this season!

Between the cheery, if surprised, shop assistant and me, we guided the little critter out of the shop, she wafting the shop's brochure and me using my weighty, book-filled college bag as shepherd's crook, while simultaneously trying so not to wreck her window decor of sofas, TVs and empty X-Box boxes.

Bizarre, non?!

The only-slightly-dazed crazed creature left us with no words of thanks as it shimmied out of the door back into the street. "There's our good deed for the day", I shouted to her as I re-joined the drab grey street, smiling...    I was left wondering if it had wanted to rent an HD TV to enjoy the Christmas viewing schedules.

2.   After your wise and kind words on my last post, I took my anger to therapy.   It was a good place to leave it, while discovering that we learn more from challenging people, more than we ever learn from those with whom our interactions are mainly plain-sailing...   Worth knowing.

3.   At the weekend, we had a stellar falling-out with a friend of many years, who thought it was a blindingly good idea to park his dilapidated campervan on our land for up to two years, in payment for which he'd put down some hard-standing and do some gardening and tidying-up on the plot.   This is a man not known for keeping his word, as others in his manipulative family tend to have more pressing demands upon him. They are the bane of his life.   Accordingly, he gets easily distracted by his and their compelling issues and, all too rarely, completes any job he sets his sights upon, frustrating his casual employers to say the least.

In his plans I could see only problems ahead for us, culminating in him not managing to carry out any of the promised work, while having his van become our problem and be a constant reminder - to me at least - of unfinished business lying between us.

I have enough unfinished business in my life at the mo' sans taking on anyone else's.   Of course, I am the ogre of the piece for having refused him.   He cannot see that his failings and/or burgeoning paranoia are his problem, not everyone else's.

I, on the other hand, know everything!

3. Meantime, to cheer my spirits, I watched two of my favourite films, click on the links for more information, mes bloggy cinephiles - Mr Blanding Builds His Dream House and Blithe Spirit. Pure escapism. How bloody lovely! There is something relentlessly reassuring about old films...

When I grow up I want to be Madame Arcati. That's if I can't marry Mr Cary Grant.

4.   Of course, I'll never get my fantasy man when I leave the house without my trusty make-up bag which I'm never without, and take to using a pink Sharpie pen as lipstick in some desperate, slattern-like attempt to look less monstrous for a meeting!

5.   Finally, (you sigh), I'm off for some more training this weekend for my wedding celebrant work - Wish me luck! Things may be a little quiet here - At least until after the weekend, but then I seem to be mainly posting weekly or twice-weekly at the most here at present. I honestly don't know how I ever managed to hold down a full-time job!

Isn't the golden autumn light beautiful at this time of year?    Mwah!

There's nowt as queer as folks...

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 18:41:00 +0000

This past week has been ~~feckin' awful~~ challenging in many respects.

Some ~~twats~~ enlightened people on my course decided they would play up during a presentation a fellow student, (who's also my good friend), and I were delivering about the treatment of depression.

She wrote a note to him saying she was ~~stupid~~ bored and wanted to go out for a ~~skive~~ smoke. They smirked and giggled, passing notes...

I was watching the audience to gauge their reactions to what we were saying, but failed to notice them, but their behaviour was brought to my attention during a break by my friend, who had seen it all.

In the cafe I tried to tackle him about his bad behaviour, when he came to sit next to me and ~~bore me with~~ tell me tales of his own abusive childhood ~~again and again, ad nauseum~~.

When we returned to the class-room after the break, they chose to come back ten minutes later than everyone else. The tutors tackled the group on this, without naming and shaming.

I was ~~very sad~~ ~~hopping mad~~ livid.

She asked me for a lift home afterwards.   This has been a pretty usual occurrence for us, as I take pity on her and we are travelling pretty much the same journey home...   No skin off my nose.   I could scarcely be civil to her all the way home.   I was furious and barely holding back my anger.

I know that, in the scheme of things, this whole episode amounts to little more than a hill of beans.

I know that there are worse things happening in the world, even in our enchanted Blogworld, concerning those we love.

I know I should rise above it, not rise to their bait in a game of one-upmanship and competitiveness because they both are, of course, perfect and self-aware.   They are going to make ~~shit~~ great therapists with their attitudes!

I am angry with these people for how they behaved and treated me and my friend this week.   I am appalled at their lack of respect and childish collusion.

I think I am, in the very bottom of my heart, just sad...

On Saturday I attended a crochet workshop, to do something creative and have a little fun, rather than just work, work, work on my counselling course.

I had fun.

In other news, some ~~other shit also hit the fan~~ also not so very nice things happened this week.

...I might take my new crochet hooks into college this week.

It turns out that I am so crapilola at crochet, that I might just find another use for them!

Bats In The Belfry!

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 13:24:00 +0000

Ta-da!

I ~~hang~~ sit here before you, having now collected my ~~fecking hideously expensive~~ glasses with their ~~blind as a bat~~ complex new prescription - And, guess what?

I can see you all now!

Don't you look all lovely in your jammies?

Wait, what's that? Is it a tinge of egg yolk on your collar?

Naughty boys and girls!

You have soooo taken advantage of the fact that I could not see you properly...

And, this week I have also succumbed to the plague of old age, by buying a shopping trolley because I could no longer face schlepping my baggage (emotional and otherwise) back and forwards through the city, pulling my already dodgy spine out of alignment.

The Christmas season is fast upon us, and I found I was unable to contemplate buying the odd thing here and there for Grizz and GJ (who are the only folk I have left to buy for, organised little minx that I've been this year!), as I make my way through the shops on the way from the transport system to the Library to ~~use the computers to gawp at t'Internet~~ study... For this would mean traipsing all my kibble about the city for hours on end while I wait for early evening collection and pick-up by GJ.

I surprised him somewhat yesterday when I turned up for my lift at dusk with a nifty, sporty trolley in tow, stowing it safely in the back of the car. In it I had all the necessary study books for my counselling course, a few items and stocking fillers for Grizz AND my hefty handbag! For even my beloved Patrick Cox handbag has started to pull my shoulder out of joint!

I can't get away with minimal when it comes to being prepared. I might swoon at itty-bitty, impossibly chic clutch bags, but cannot manage all day so far from home with one. I need my pens and writing pads, some days I take my Kindle, yesterday I carried a paperback book which I could not stop myself buying from a charity shop *Ahem*, a can of Diet Coke, a home-made sandwich in silver foil, my Filofax, my cheque book, my two purses (one for coins and bus tickets, one for cards, notes and receipts), a large comb, a bagful of make-up (for without which I look like a witch!), Bach Rescue Remedy and all my therapy stuff, including a voice recorder, as well as other paraphernalia... If I were to start carrying a lap-top (which I'll need to for counselling work in future), you might as well launch me as a sailing ship - H.M.S Fhina!

Most days that I spend in town, without any kind of way-station to rest at, I feel at best like a modern day, pioneering pack-horse. Ready to rumble, but also ready to drop!

I am conscious of how I look with the shopping trolley, although it is an absolute doddle to pull around - There's no weight at all to it, but I feel it ages me. It marks me out to predators as one of the weakest of the herd... I sense its bulk, and its chastising of me for not looking after my body and my back well enough for all these years.

My hubby mocked me a bit for the trolley and will undoubtedly complain about the space it takes up at home, but I'm absolutely fed up of having to decide to leave grocery shopping, or a bag of dried muesli for the rats, behind for another time, because the bags cut into my fingers and my shoulders are screaming...

I would be really interested to find out how you manage, my pets. What floats your boat? What gets you from A - Z in full possession of your mental faculties, when it comes to bags and baggage. What's the solution?

A bientot, mes belles - Je vous aime! Mwah!

"Oh, say can you see...?" Er, no!

noreply@blogger.com (A Woman Of No Importance) — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 00:17:00 +0000

Replete with last week's bout of TCOB ('Taking Care Of Business', one of 'the King's' favourite sayings, (although I'm not sure what the Queen Mother would have had to say about it), I decided it was time to stop avoiding the inevitable and I took myself off to the optician's yesterday...

My optician has recently moved his business from a very bijou (and no doubt hideously expensive, rates-wise) part of town, to an area not five minutes' drive from the town centre (a twenty minute walk), but in a low-down, depressed and deprived city suburb where I stand out like a sore thumb because I'm not clad in rags and look far from undernourished...

His high standards have not changed. I was offered a lovely cup of frothy coffee with cream from a brand-spanking-new machine by an exhuberant member of his staff, while I perused the bling-encrusted racks of attractive Chanel, Dolce & Gabbana, Dior and Bvlugari geps. (CLICK FOR NORTHUMBRIAN LANGUAGE TRANSLATION)

I rested my hefty haunches on his black and chrome leather sofas, picking up a copy of Vanity Fair with an article about Johnny Depp to squint at, given that I was only able to wear my old Prada geps (Prescription Vintage 2008) in readiness for the full plethora of sight tests.

...Normally, I go nowhere without my daily contact lenses held in to my tenderly glistening mince-pies with the vice-like grip of me eye-lids!

I passed the gruelling tests. Which is amazing as I'm usually to be found ruminating on something like a previously undetected detached retina or a painful dose of glaucoma which my late Mutti suffered with...

'Go home and celebrate your healthy eyes!', began my bespectacled optometrist.

What with, gin?!   Fireworks?

He continued, 'Your contact lens prescription hasn't altered at all, which is good but you will need to change the prescription in your ~~geps~~ glasses...,' ~~if you want to use them to see through and not as a fashion statement, he failed to add.~~
'And, if you need any extra help for reading small print, just borrow your husband's reading glasses.   They'll do fine.   Or just push your glasses further down your nose.   It's all very normal... At your age!'

Great, I thought, I am turning into Miss Marple.

Afterwards, I sat before the bright, bespectacled receptionist (WHY DOES NO-ONE WHO WORKS IN AN OPTICIAN'S WEAR CONTACT LENSES??!).

She beamed as she withdrew a tiny calculator from within her voluminous black cape - just on trend for Hallowe'en!   She calculated away, her fingers tippy-tappying across the keys...

"You are entitled to a reduction as the Government does pay for a percentage of your lenses, given that you are ~~as blind as a bat~~ a complex prescription...   That'll reduce the cost by, ooooohhhhhh, don't get excited, £15.00".

Wow, I thought.   A whole £15.   Approx. $30.   Period. For being practically partially sighted?

But, never look a gift horse in the mouth, as my Grandmother would say...

And, as the pretty receptionist's black manicured fingers glided over the keys of the calculator, the damage emerged for the cost of fitting new lenses into my old, but good, glasses.   I had decided to be parsimonious, given my circumstances, and eschewed the shiny and new.

"That'll be £185.51p, please!    How would you like to pay?"

"Er, not at all," I said, somewhat unhelpfully...