A Woman Of No Importance

Questions that run through my mind...

2012-01-19T10:34:00.001Z

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...

2012-01-15T11:30:00.001Z

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?!

2012-01-02T23:50:00.002Z

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!

2011-12-21T13:27:00.000Z

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...

2011-12-14T23:27:00.000Z

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...

2011-12-05T00:08:00.066Z

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...

2011-11-28T09:44:00.000Z

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...

2011-11-22T16:06:00.000Z

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...

2011-11-17T00:20:00.001Z

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...

2011-11-13T18:41:00.001Z

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!

2011-11-08T13:24:00.000Z

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!

2011-11-02T00:17:00.117Z

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...

The seasons shift...

2011-10-27T00:56:00.121+01:00

Thank you those of you who have made comments about the wee Ratties.   Yes, they are adorable, yes, they 'oui oui' everywhere but everything they touch gets washed very regularly.   Yes, they have stolen my heart.   Well, what was left of it anyway!   And, Chairman Bill, when I Googled 'Dumbo Rats', they look suspiciously like my wee beasties, so I think that's what we're caretaking for the lovely Lisa B.

And, for what it's worth, Chairman, my views on rats as pets are such:   When thinking of A Rat (Singular) for your son as a pet I would recommend Two Rats (Plural - Male - Slower and easier to catch than the Female of the Species - so I am reliably informed.   They do seem to like the company of other rats to cuddle up to, play with, scrap with, and so on... Already this morning, they've been doing synchronized skritching!

In other news, I think the Ratties are brain-washing me.   Or something has shifted in me.

Perhaps it's the seasons, who knows?

I have started to clear my house.   Yes, after many ~~years~~ months of being a bit of a ~~slattern~~ Bohemian, I am starting to fill ~~skips~~ boxes with ~~shit~~ treasures and I'm also just chucking other rubbish out...

What, you may ask, has happened to me?   What has made such a difference?   What's caused this shift in fact?

This week it's half-term in England and, rather than having to be some place doing some thing, I have been mainly ~~lying on the sofa~~ at home.

Therefore, I've had a bit more energy; I've also had more time than usual for ME and I've finally felt like tackling a number of the areas around the house that have been neglected while I recovered from a number of things:   From my back injury, and the surgery aftermath that first brought me to blogging, as well as a fug of grief that descended upon me following the death of my beloved Dad four and a half years ago.

So, I am taking things in hand...   I won't say that I've won the battle yet.   No.

There's still much to be done.

I could open a bookshop. I have managed to donate around a dozen bags and boxes of clothes and other stuff to charity, which I am permitting myself to feel quite glowy and virtuous about. The cheery chappies rolled up in their van this morning and took it all away. Painless!

...You may know that charities are currently suffering a severe lack of interest in their business and a dearth of donated goods, reason being that we're probably in the worst depression since The Depression.

This time, the British Heart Foundation has benefited. It is a charity I care to support, given that both of my parents suffered heart disease.

I do support other charities, including the vitally important Great North Air Ambulance service that covers our rural area, but I do try to share the bounty as far as possible, between home and abroad...   My husband sponsors a doctor in Africa through VSO.

What has helped me most perhaps, in deciding to make way in my home, is the therapy - Through it, I am beginning to gain some insight into my rather 'stuck' behaviour(s).   Also I've acknowledged (if only to myself) that I was waiting for someone to 'rescue' me from it all.

This is unlikely ever to happen, let's be honest.   I have to rely upon me.

I've also begun to recognise how much all this clutter and stuff is holding me back from being wholly comfortable with my surroundings.   The ensuing feeling of shame is not a good one to hold to me.

I think I've also held on to stuff as a barrier to/defence against having guests over.   ...My out-laws mainly.   I'm not ashamed of that.   They're not easy people...   p.s. it worked!

What has also spurred me on is watching episodes of 'Hoarders' on TV, and realising how easy it is to tip over into those kinds of horrific states... And also noticing just how 'stuck' these people are - With grief, with loss, with bitterness, with sadness, with loneliness, with anger... Or just plain stuck.   Recently, it's been like holding a vaseline-smeared mirror up to my face, seeing a gauzy reflection there.

I've also been reading this book by former Monsoon singer, Sheila Chandra, on my Kindle.   It's full of common sense, and a 'been there, done that' mentality, rather than preachy words.   It has helped although I haven't worked through the programme fully to date.

I'm just scratching the surface at the mo'.

One of my next blog-posts will be a Bucket List of stuff that remains to be done, or accomplished, or realised by me.   (p.s. The Kindle has made me think about letting go of some much-loved 'physical' books too).

I've also been reading some blogs about Minimalism.   Not that I'd ever subscribe to being a minimalist, I must admit.   I'm not that radical:   Reading of how people have given animals away as if they were unwanted possessions saddens me, I have to say...

I'd love to hear your thoughts on aspects of how to live life in a lighter way?

Lawdamussy, how I've rambled on today...

Anyhoo, back to the clutter-busting.   I feel it's time.    I think I owe it to myself...   Don't you?!

This video shows Sheila Chandra from her Monsoon days with Ever So Lonely (1982):

Now with added rats!

2011-10-24T11:42:00.001+01:00

Admit it, I've sold you on them.   The rats, of course...

But not their tails, or perhaps tales!

The lovely Lisa B's photos do the rat-baby-beasts more justice, it has to be said.   Many of the photos that my hubby, GJ, has taken of them show only a blur, as they dash off in full motion to do something far more interesting.

This one, Dobbie, is the worst culprit.   In a blink of an eye, while you're distracted by filling a water bottle he's off.   He jumps silently off the sofa, scuttles off under the Belgian dresser and he's off and away!   Without even a cry of 'High-ho, Silver' to draw attention to his escape...

This is him in a rare moment of repose, being grizzled by me on the sofa and squeaking in a diva-like fashion, "I'm ready for me close-up now, Mr De Mille!"

This week, the babies (I know, I'm totally lost, given that I've taken to calling them 'babies!') have been subjected to some dark glances from friends and visitors. If looks could kill, I ask you!

...Bizarrely, two of our acquaintances have experienced frightening vehicle break-downs involving 1) a new car and 2) a decrepit camper-van.

Both incidents involved destruction of the rubber tubing carrying diesel to the vehicles.   Apparently, rats had chosen to gnaw through the pipes, rendering both vehicles immobile.   The damage was extensive.   There was no CCTV footage of the alleged offenders and no eye-witnesses so, under the circumstances, I am 'holding my powder' as they say.   However, both events had devastating consequences and brought considerable expense to the parties involved...   In the case of the camper-van, half a Mars bar had also been scoffed and also some of the bedding and interior decor of the van had been 'tasted'.

Oops!

"It wasn't me", the rat-babies squeak in all innocence and surprisingly in unison.   "Not our type at all.   Not us 'fancy rats'.   No..."

Would you believe them?!

The truth lies in those little beady eyes, methinks.

Rats!

2011-10-22T11:50:00.001+01:00

If ever a post was titled in such a way as to put off the majority of my readers, it would be this one - "Rats!"

Come on, I've been teasing you for weeks with "Now with added rats!" to draw you in in your hundreds...

Watches as numbers of followers flow away like water in a fall!

It all began with a text sent to us by our son, Grizzles, while we were away from home in the Canaries.

"Lisa isn't allowed to have her rats in her new flat.   There's a clause in the student rental agreement that says you can only have guide dogs."

GJ, my husband, mused that maybe they could get little white canes for the rats, dark glasses, that kind of thing...

"I've already thought of that", plied Grizz. "I doubt it'll work for long".

He paused, "I think Mum really needs the company!"

Imagine my reply.   "I?    I need the company?"

My voice rose an octave.   "...of rats??!!!"

Hysteria was beginning to set in.

Of course, how would we be expected to respond?   We were trapped in a rat-trap.   These rats came third hand to lovely Lisa.   They were relatively elderly.   Who else could have them.   Her parents are already taking care of her childhood cat and rabbit.   The tortie cat, Sox, shows an inordinate interest in the large cage in Lisa's bedroom, which contains three furry play-pals...   The sweet black and white rabbit, Clive, couldn't give a carrot!

Days later, I watched, half in fear half in anticipation when the cardboard box on the sofa moved.   I could hear sniffering and snorting inside, as Grizzles assembled the large cage in a corner of my living room.

Previously, I've been a totally rodent-free zone where pets are concerned.   I could never imagine keeping and handling rodents - Guinea-pigs, hamsters, gerbils...

Nope, not me!

Grizzles ran me through their requirements as they settled in to their new HQ, handing this ardent vegetarian a tub of dried mealworms.   I shrieked.   I just couldn't see it.   Me, passing tiny dried worms through the bars of the cage to hungry mouths.

And yet, in no time at all, these three furry-faced creatures have wormed their way into our hearts.

Lisa's home at Christmas again.   Our care-taking stint will be temporarily over. Dumbledore, Dobbie and Big Peeves will go home with Lisa.

I think we'll miss them when they're gone!

All photos courtesy of the Lovely Lisa B...

Cripes!

2011-10-19T10:11:00.000+01:00

Seems like I stilled my mind a little too effectively, as I have not blogged since last Monday!

My days have been filled with therapy, ruminating on therapy, crying, arguing, counselling, counselling supervision, group supervision, counselling course-work, shivering in the Library where the heating has been off for several days, meeting my darling cousin, Coz, for lunch and rat-wrangling...

I've been reading a book on my new Kindle about de-cluttering. It's making me think how much clutter we cart about with us through life. I mean, how much clutter, emotional, virtual and actual, I carry about with me. Including the flesh on my bones which is ueber-Rubenesque, to say the least.

All this has given me some food for thought.

More and better soon, I promise.

"Now with added rats!"

The Art of Just Being...

2011-10-10T00:15:00.015+01:00

One of my favourite works of art (among many, I might add!) is this sculpture by Albert Toft called The Spirit of Contemplation.

She sits, somewhat overlooked by her modern counterparts and the rush of the new, in the Laing Art Gallery in Newcastle upon Tyne.

I've known her for over thirty years.   We are old friends, she and I.

When I first caught sight of this life-size bronze, I thought her impossibly beautiful and unattainable.   I wanted to be her.

I might have spoken before about my aspiration to have been an artist's inspiration.   His muse.   I think the time for that has fled.

But the spirit still gazes unseeingly out at an unknown future, lost to contemplation and reverie.

Who she was to the artist, Albert Toft, I do not know.   I can find little about him online.

The shock of the new.   L'Art Nouveau, as it was at that time.

And this leads me to ask, what time do any of us take for contemplation in this day and age?

Most of us run from task to task;   from work to home;   from bus to tram to pounding the pavement;   from thought to fleeting thought, to ennui...   From one demand on our time to another, in fact.

I am asking you to take a few moments out today, mes muses, to just sit and be.   Not to do.   Anything.   Other than breathe...   I am asking for just a few minutes of your time.

Spend them in contemplation, as I will do.   Observe your thoughts as they pass though your mind, but do not allow them to derail you from just sitting and being.   Concentrate on your breathing.

In.

And out.   Focus on the out breath.   The exhale.   Make it as long as you can and feel those tense muscles across your back, chest and shoulders begin to loosen.

Let those thoughts go.   There will be ample time to attend to them when you cease your contemplative moment.

Merely sit and close your eyes to the world.   Still the mind.

Breathe.

And be...

For, after all, we are human Be-ings, as opposed to human Do-ings, non?

Tell me how it goes for you?!   Do you feel a little less fraught?   A tad less anxious?   I hope it for you.

A la prochaine, mes bloggy blackberries - Well, we're in October already, non?!   Blackberry time.

See you in the hedge-rows!

Words in the Key of Life...

2011-10-06T00:31:00.063+01:00

I love words.   They can bring me such joy.   And sometimes frustration, it is true, as I struggle for le mot juste for my blog-writing, to be fair...

I've mentioned here before that I use StatCounter to check (occasionally, I'm not obsessed!) the numbers coming to the Crawford Mansions door here at A Woman Of No Importance, and to see what sort of ~~idiots loons~~ lovely people my words attract.

One of the many pleasures of StatCounter is, de temps on temps, having a gawp at the key words people coming to my Blog have tippy-tappied out upon their keyboards...

Here are this week's treasures for your delight and delectation:

'Sad beetroot' - Amusing, but true!   What possesses people, I must ask?   How would you ever know if a beetroot was sad?   I hope I offended none recently when I explained how I detest them!

To continue,

'Hair shirt' - I have one, but only wear it for special occasions - GJ's Fiftieth Birthday coming in January springs to mind. I shall be beside myself planning that party, just you wait and see!   Sackcloth optional.

'Bison head' - Moi?   It's a while since I posted a head-shot to be sure, but I'm certain I wasn't looking much like a bison.    A moose, perhaps...

'Gypsy curtains' - Kelly Hoppen will be signing me up soon, I'm sure, for her next instalment of 'Interiors' on Channel 4!   I have a gypsy chandelier waiting to be installed in my boudoir, but no curtains.   (I have no shame!)

'Cadbury's chocolate fingers' - Wha'?   They've uncovered my favourite stash already - Who gave me away - Was it Grizz?!

'Paul Merton laughing...'   No comment necessary.

'Tommy Cooper half chicken' - I dread to think.   Was this a trick he used to perform on stage, or is someone wondering about some bizarre 'The Fly' kind of experiment??!

'English eccentrics' - There's many a true word spoken in jest.   I resemble those key words!

'box of frogs' - Oh yes, now I get it "Fhina is as mad as a box of frogs" - Is that it?!   Someone I really respect once described a dear colleague as "As mad as a ship's cat!" - When he said that, I just knew that he's probably used those same words to describe me.   It made me laugh.   He's still a friend that I respect.

'NO MATTER WHY IT HURT DOG MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER' - Yes, yes, they do.   Now why are you shouting?

These days, I am finding that playing with the clever and funny little fancy rats of an evening is making me feel better, so joy doesn't only come from dogs, to be truthful.

And I never believed I would be saying that, mes amis - Never!   I didn't even think I'd be able to handle the little beasties, but it's amazing what the humble human being is capable of, n'est-ce pas?

Mind you, I probably smell of rats' pee these days, too.

Tant pis, as they say in France.

Mwah!   Gotcha, there on the cheek when you weren't looking!

p.s. I'm going nowhere - I get too much out of blogging as it is - Thanks to those of you who were concerned about my musings on whither Blogworld. I love you too much!

Picture: British comedian and film buff, Paul Merton, not laughing...

Welcome To My World...

2011-10-04T13:28:00.000+01:00

Welcome to my two new followers, and those of you who have chosen to come and read my words and share parts of my journey with me.

I sense that in Blogland things have gone a little quiet recently.    I noticed some time ago that some of my favourite bloggers, who became firm friends, left the Blogosphere altogether and we communicate now on FaceSlapBook instead.

What is to become of us in the outer reaches of Blogworld?   Will we wither on the vine or, cut back against the coming of winter, will we all bloom once more in spring?

I know not.   I am no sage or oracle.

More's the pity!

I tend to use my blog as therapy these days.   Perhaps I have always done so.   Without blogging would I have ever selected therapy as my next career step? Blogging for most of us seems to be an outlet for venting our spleen, for exploring our sense of humour, for sharing things of beauty in our lives - whether pictures of our children, grandkids, pets, our passion for knitting, our love of all things vintage, our hints and money-saving tips, or just our divine common sense.

Blogging has its place in our universe. Whether we're hoping for a book-deal (unlikely these days!), ou non...

Without reading your blogs I would not be as erudite (blows on fingernails and rubs them across shiny blouse!), as learned, or quite as humble.

Blogging is not without its irritations.   I balk at the relentlessly self-obsessed writers, who rant and rail against stuff that I can't be arsed to get arsed about, like plagiarism, for example.   ...I want to say 'Get a grip!   Don't take yourself so seriously.   Life's too short, and imitation is the sincerest form of flattery - I think someone big once said that.'

But, I also want to live and let live.   I think that's important.   I'm fed up of others wanting to dictate how we need to live our lives, who strive endlessly (and hopelessly, in my humble opinion) for perfectionism and want us all to fit into their restrictive, but perfect, pigeon-holes.

One of my relatively peaceful neighbours in my rural terrace is being harassed by another neighbour who wants to complain about his log-pile and how untidy it is.   I'm just waiting for them to complain about our new house-mates, three fancy rats that we're temporarily care-taking for our sweet son's lovely girlfriend.

On reflection - without writing my blog I might not be as self-aware - or quite as sane.   (Believe it or not!)

Thank you for sticking around.   Thank you for your writing, those of you who write.   A big thank you to those who comment in Blogworld.   I may read widely, but I don't always have time to comment - My hubby, GJ, does complain about my capacity to endlessly tippy-tappy against the key-board.

Nuff said for one day.

More soon.   Now with added rats!

Bizarro!

2011-09-30T12:25:00.000+01:00

I wish I hadn't just Googled all images relating to the word "bizarre..."

Oh dear, it'll take me some time to recover from that experience - Ooh, me eyeballs!

Where's the scrubbing brush when you need one??!

And so, this weekend I shall be mainly avoiding our friend who's 50th Birthday it is and who is a long-time friend of GJ, but whose family remains totally influenced by Renaissance Sturm und Drang, so intertwined and fictional are their lives!

We are eating with said close family, and friends, (that'll be us, then!) on Friday at a ghastly gastro-pub sort of place that only offers one choice for vegetarians, but who cares about me?!

They are so a bunch of drama queens, never a dull moment, although lots of frustrating ones!

Truly with them, I should put the full brunt of my counselling skills into practice, but it wouldn't be ethical to do so, and therefore I suffer not entirely in silence but with lots of grumbling, grouching and growling under my breath as I clamp together my teeth and suppress my desire to say exactly what I think of them...

Yes, I am this awful in real life!

Anyhoo, on Saturday for his birthday, we are booked to go to the Sage to see Doctor Feelgood. This forms our present to him.   I don't know why we bother...

I know only one of their records.

It's going to be a fun gig!

On Wednesday my counselling course begins, with two new tutors to get to know, to boot.

On Thursday, we are travelling into Footballers' Wives territory of Cheshire, for my hubby's work... I shall keep you informed as to what I get up to there!   Wot larks, eh, Pip!   Incidentally I found that Knutsford was home for many years to darling Mrs Gaskell, of Wives and Daughters, The Life of Charlotte Bronte, and Cranford - Marvellous!

And on Friday I return to counselling practice in the rural Doctors' surgery, that I enoy so much. Wish me luck!

By Sunday, I may well be lying in the cupboard under the stairs with my feet in a bucket of Epsom Salts, my head reeling from all the excitement, sniffing on smelling salts!

A toute a l'heure, mes bloggy wonders...   Be good, and if you can't be good, be careful!

I sometimes wonder about how bizarre our lives have turned out to be...   Rats 'n' all...

Tell me your news?   Bizarre, or no!

Meantime, je vous embrasse tres fort - Mwah!

2011-09-28T00:00:00.000+01:00

p.s. I am sick of this now - How do you put spaces between paragraphs here on the new Blogger??!

I am so annoyed that it just rolls everything into one, no matter how many times I press the 'return' button - WTF is going on??! So sorry, my friends... No, wait, I think I've got it now!t

From the delightful Vintage Vixen, I caught this Meme concerning an A to Z of me.

~Hope you can bear it!

A-Age.
47 and three-quarters. Where does the time go, me hearties?!

B - Bed Size
King size - We almost went for one size larger when we bought it as a very young Grizzles used to love to sneak in to the middle of his Pa and me, but we would not have been able to get the wardrobe doors open - Our cottage bedroom (formerly two up-two down, by way of rooms) is too wee!

C - Chore you hate
All of 'em. I live in a slovenly Bohemian kind of way, I must admit - I'm not proud of it, but I won't change now...

D - Dogs
I hanker after dogs, namely two dachshunds, not sure why. I love cats since I had two of them who stole my heart, and am currently care-taking three rats - But that's a whole other blog-post!

E - Essential start to your day
Usually breakfast, or at least a banana. I also like a cup of coffee or tea.

F - Favourite colour
Difficult - I am drawn to girly pinks, but love blue skies and green fields...

G - Gold or silver
Mainly silver, but I do have a gold half moon necklace that I had some of my Mother's jewellery melted down into... Still looking for some kind of gold earrings to go with it, but it's been four years now...

H - Height
Five foot seven inches, on a good day. And you'll rarely see me in heels, so that's about it.

I - Instruments you play
None now, but I learned to play the recorder and the violin at school, but gave up when I went to Uni, as I couldn't invest the time... My great grandfather was Second Violinist in a working mens' orchestra in the Twenties and Thirties... I never knew that when I chose to take up the violin - Co-incidences can be rather spooky, non??!

J - Job title
Registrar and Celebrant of Weddings, as well as Trainee Counsellor. Slattern and Rat-Keeper!

K - Kids
One. Now Kidult. Currently back at Uni. Gorgeous. The rats belong to his girlfriend! Also gorgeous!

L - Live
and let live...

M - Mother's name
Joanie. RIP. Known to my Dad for some reason in later life, lovingly, as 'Biddy'.

N - Nickname
I'll answer to anything but my own name. Fhina is a pen-name. The pet-name my hubby and son call me is not for sharing, sorry.

O - Overnight hospital stays
One, as a child, when I had my tonsils removed. The second, a couple of years ago, was when I had a burst disk removed from my spine - Yikes! The experience and agony brought me to blogging, believe it or not!

P - Pet peeves
Like Vix, really - Racism, bigotry, litter louts, rude people and then I'd say stuff like arrogant people who live like the world owes them a living, who take and never give, and those who have no empathy with others. Let's say sociopaths! I'm also not all that keen on archetypal Tory sorts who are rich and have no sympathy for the poor, as well as carpet-slipper socialist types - All mouth and no trousers!

Q - Quote from a film

"All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up." Norma Desmond.

"I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for". Sally Owen, Practical Magic...

R - Right or left handed?
Right, but I love lefties, and my son is one!

S - Siblings
None. In friendships with women, I always search for soul-sisters. I have a male cousin who's as close to me as a brother would be, and I am grateful to him for that, as well as his wonderful support of me and his wild sense of humour. He's also a mental health practitioner - Odd how our paths have crossed so...

T - Time you wake up
Around 6.20 am usually, but I love to sleep later...

U - Underwear
M & S knickers (TMI!) and upholstery from Bravissimo, always!

V - Vegetable you hate
I'm not fond of beetroot and its staining of plates and other veggies that sit beside it!

W - What makes you run late
Procrastination, but I'm rarely late.

X - X-Rays you've had
Head, as a child; Back. Boobies, pressed between glass - Eek!

Y - Yummy food that you make
Mean enchiladas, boiled eggs and associated sandwiches, leek and potato soup and a lovely curried lentil soup, if I may say so myself. I'm no Domestic Goddess, but I yearn to be a Fifties-style Kitchen Queen, baking cupcakes...

Z - Zoo animal
I love hippos. They remind me of me - More graceful in water than on land! Also anything with big cute eyes, like leemurs. And most bats!

Art - The Puppeteer by the wonderful and talented Welsh artist, Laisa Lloyd Presland

Recombobulated...

2011-09-19T19:34:00.001+01:00

When I left you, I was discombobulated, knackered, exhausted, at the end of several tethers and generally plum tuckered...Now I return to you, after a fortnight of lying (albeit in the shade) in the sun, replete with fresh fruit and veg and suitably warmed up for a northern lass - Meaning my skin is less blue and more cafe au lait coloured in parts (only the parts that weren't covered by hat, frock, shoes, beach towel and Factor 50 for Kids Sun Protection, that is!That's right, I chose a destination just off the coast of Africa, renowned for sun, sea, surf and general naturism, (...apparently - I was warned!), and I come back looking as if I just spent the whole two weeks, unwashed, in the cupboard under the stairs...Still, my batteries have been charged (a bit); I feel a little more relaxed and a little less strung-out; I have climbed the holiday laundry mountain, (just kidding - Had you there, didn't I?!), and I am ready to return to college and my various jobs, paid and unpaid - Mainly unpaid!Fuerteventura was so different from my vie quotidienne - Volcanic, black, gusty, severe and space-worldly but with its own charm, including patient locals, copious goats, rolling clouds and an azure blue sea full of little fishies that followed where you tread, so they could rummage through the displaced sand for treasure... I heartily recommend it to the house!

Dear Blog...

2011-09-03T00:52:00.031+01:00

Dear Blog,

As much as I love you dearly, please recall that I am entitled by European law to some time off from time to time...de temps en temps as they say en France.

It is to this end that, horreur de horreurs, I shall not be scheduling any postings during my petit absence.

For I am also giving my lovely readers and fiends here a little time off too.

Because they're worth it!

They've done loads lately to bolster me when I was feeling bleu, (which encompasses a lot of the year, really...)

Their recent kindnesses to me after I wrote while I wept a well of tears about deeds I have procrastinated over and the loves that leave their mark in grieving, I shall not forget...

You lift me up. I hope you know it.

Thankyou, kindly. I am most grateful to you.

Je vous aime...

And isn't love everything?

Yeah, I'm mushy!

A bientot, mes amis... See you soon. Take care.

Yours, de tout mon coeur,

Fhina xxx

Who Knows Where The Time Goes?

2011-08-31T00:13:00.100+01:00

My time in Frankfurt gave me some moments of pleasure to recount here:

1. Hurried, but friendly conversations with German ladies d'un certain age like me, getting easily lost about the city as we made poor attempts to read crappy maps!

2. Being asked directions by German people three times in the same day on the last day of my trip - by which time I knew the city quite well and felt more confident about my German and found myself quite able to point out the way!

3. Seeing the ferret on a lead, and another in a knapsack. Similarly, finding an ueber-friendly black cat, who responded to my calling to him in English, while he stalked mean-looking pigeons in front of the Anglo-Irish pub in the touristy streets of Sachsenhausen.

4. Being chatted up by octogenarian gentlemen in a park, who might have been Turkish.

5. Almost being mugged on the Kaiserstrasse, by a guy who tried to harangue us (non-aggressively) first in German (we both look very German!) and then in English. Only in Frankfurt could you be accosted by a man of the road who is also a keen linguist!

6. Having the numberous blisters on my feet finally heal, after I had walked a formerly comfortable pair of black gladiator-style sandals from the streets of Frankfurt straight into the hotel's waste-bin.

7.

Finding a friendly pub, or Stube, around the corner from the hotel, where we were adopted by the regulars and enjoyed glasses of wheat beer that cooled our tongues nicely while my feet recovered from their daily pounding. The elderly gentlemen who frequented said establishment also took to calling me "Young woman...," as I passed through! See 4.

8. Having to complain to hotel staff about the late-night noise coming from the party they held on the outside terrace for 400 of their business customers on their grand re-opening - Even with all windows and doors shut, we could not get to sleep on the fourth floor of the place. While they assured us it would stop at some point, they could not guarantee when. As I suggested to them that this was a hotel and not a night-club, they invited us to give up trying to sleep and join them instead!

Eventually, it seemed the music was halted, perhaps by another disgruntled guest, who had found the electricity cable to the terrace and had hid it, or so we heard the next day!

9. Walking through the city's wonderful Palmengarten, enjoying the tropical plants and their heady smells while observing belligerent ducks trying to tip well-behaved youths from rowing boats on the ornamental lake!

10.

Reading this novel by Elizabeth Speller over two days. It seemed wholly redolent for me of the atmosphere of World War One. I can recommend it.

I am firmly of the belief that we waste our time looking for full-time and eternal happiness in life. All that exists (at least for me) are moments of fleeting, but wonderful contentment and unbridled pleasure...

I found some of those in Frankfurt over these past ten days.

My husband is talking about us moving there over the next year or so, as it'll be easier for him to patrol his international business areas from that hub and airport.

We'll see...

I am still welded to the county where I was born, although I will make my home anywhere and have indeed done so...

I love Europe and have always felt more European than English. My family and I pass for Germans in the street, with our blond hair and pale complexions. My German is still passable, although it improves when I spend any time in the country.

In Frankfurt, I didn't find one neighbourhood that I couldn't have enjoyed living in, if we could afford it.

Costs in Frankfurt appear at least 20% dearer than in the UK at present. Frankfurt is also one of the three cities with the highest cost of living in Germany... Perhaps it's the exchange rate and all the difficulties countries are having with the Euro, but life there would certainly cost us more than in the UK at present...

Above all these considerations, I know I'd miss our son most.

Poetry from Sandy Denny's "Who knows where the time goes...":

"Across the evening sky all the birds are leaving
Oh but then you know it was time for them to go
By the winter fire I will still be dreaming
I do not count the time

For who knows where the time goes
Who knows where the time goes

Sad deserted shore your fickle friends are leaving
Oh but then you know it was time for them to go
But I will still be here I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time

For who knows where the time goes
Who knows where the time goes

I know I’m not alone while my love is near me
I know that it’s all until it’s time to go
All the storms in winter and the birds in spring again
I do not count the time

For who knows where the time goes
Who knows where the time goes

Who knows where the time goes
Who knows where the time goes"

Who knows indeed? Que sera sera...

New York! New York! And some musical interludes from friends...

2011-08-28T12:30:00.001+01:00

I'm back from blazing-hot Frankfurt, with its evening storms and electricity - One area on the banks of the city's river, the Main, is commonly known as Mainhattan because of the skyline.

Frankfurt is a city of many contrasts - High finance with its associated suits and heels, combined with well-dressed German pensioners eking out their pension by looking in bins for plastic bottles to take back for the refunds; A multi-cultured mix of people, 65% of whom come from cultures other than German, it's a family-oriented mix despite all and hugely cultured with all the city's political and economic history, new museums and art; There is good food and chi-chi pavement cafes to enjoy, with people begging for a few coins as they pass by... The thing for me about Germany too is that, while the people are fairly health-oriented, watching their diets and taking time spent in the outdoors seriously, they're terribly fond of smoking still, even in shopping malls indoors...

I saw a lovely long-haired young man on the Kaiserstrasse, walking with a ferret on a lead, which he was obviously looking after very well. I smiled as they passed and he told me as an aside that he had another one in his knapsack!

Who says Frankfurt isn't edgy?!

I love this piece of music, continuing my New York and Mainhattan themes....

I hope you love it too... Alicia Keys is da bomb!

She reminds me of Paloma Faith, or vice versa, as they say!

I'd love to visit New York one day and hope my friends on the East Coast are staying safe within Hurricane Irene's grasp...

A little vignette to brighten your day - Here's Paloma in all her quirky grace.

She used to work as a Magician's Assistant, with the same guy who appears in this video - Skip the ad! We're worth it!

I also like Jessie J and the meaning of this song, which is how it isn't about what you can have in life, the money, the price-tag of stuff... We don't need the bling!

There is much, much more to life... So true!

We all need love.

There's a message there for the recent city rioters, methinks.

Or if you would rather hear something moodier, here's the divine Adele:

I love the soul in all of their voices... and their beauty.

Have a nice one, as they say!

Ah well...

2011-08-24T00:47:00.049+01:00

One of my late father's favourites.

I miss the very bones of him, you know.

When I was small, he held my hands and I danced on his toes to music from the ancient reel-to-reel tape recorder he played about with - I know I was a heavy lump and I must have weighed heavily upon his tootsies...

I remember dancing for him to "She wears red feathers and a hula-hula skirt" especially!

I think I had a Fifties' kind of upbringing in a northern coal-town, like my parents' had, although I was born early in the Sixties - Flower-power, and all that. The times of love and peace, man, passed me by until I was in my teen years and took to wearing an afghan coat and going about bare-foot in the streets!

Still, I have childhood memories which now seem golden to me. I'm not sure all of the memories were golden, perhaps it's just in sepia and faded polaroid I remember them...

Dad's ashes have sat for just over a year in a corner of my living room, occasionally accusing me - They are double-sheathed, encased in a bronzed urn and then in the rather distinguished royal purple bag they came in with golden threaded handles. He died four, nearly five years ago.

They sit there in silence, in transition, awaiting transportation to a beach of sacred and long-holy spirit some few miles from my home where I will cast them to the earth and the north winds...

It's a beautiful place that attracts crowds of tourists most of the year.

We holidayed on the quasi-island a couple of times, and Dad insisted we scatter my Mother's ashes here almost fifteen years ago.

And that we did... It was a beautiful ceremony, I know.

And I'm sorry I haven't managed it yet!

I mean the task of scattering yours...

Forgive me, Dad. I know you do. I know you know how much I loved you.

I know you know.

How much I love you still.

I miss your unconditional love of me. Your full acceptance of me. Your love for me.

I hope you know, Dad,

...How much your grandson, my son Grizz, reminds me of you.

Each and every day. He has our fingers, particularly the bent middle finger on one hand that we all share.

He is as careful with money as you were.

He has your height, your grace, your wit and humour, and he is still his own soul. I think he has your nose too!

And I know that you would love him. Just as you always did. Perhaps more.

I want to make your ashes rain from the heavens like stars as you did for your beloved Joanie, my Mam.

Tonight, I can see you shaking your head, and smiling at my fecklessness, noting my loss of you in my life.

I know you will understand why I haven't been able to do this thing, not just yet.

I know you, above all, understand me.

You loved your Daddy's Girl...

And I know I will always be this, as I write these words and my well of tears rains down tonight.

For no-one else (perhaps apart from Grizz) has ever meant quite as much to me in this life, before or since I lost your dear soul.

I will love you always... I hope you know.

I want someone to watch over me...

2011-08-20T00:37:00.012+01:00

One of my favourite films is Ridley Scott's 'Someone To Watch Over Me...'

I love the misty, moody atmosphere, and Tom Berenger in his prime might also have something to do with it!

How the times have changed...

I hope you can spare some love for Amy, who had so many watching around her, but none could save her.

Sorry to go on, but I am currently being moved by thoughts of love and loss in my own life, and my feelings have been heightened by more prominent life-circumstances, if that makes sense to you...

On the other hand, I may be losing my marbles!

Could you tell if I was??!

I used to love playing with my cousin's marbles when I was a child. I found beauty in the colours embedded in glass. They looked like eyes. Maybe even dragon's eyes.

Red, orange, yellow, green - The blues and turquoises were my favourite.

I don't suppose my cousin, David, had many that were pink!

The heavy metallic marbles were called "Penkers" - There was no marble that could beat the silver might of a penker!

You never see kids playing with marbles these days, do you?

Seems such a shame to me.

Perhaps we have lost some of our innocence and playfulness?

What think you?

2011-08-18T00:42:00.011+01:00

Today, I hope to visit Goethe's house in Frankfurt, Germany.

I visited it first over ten years ago.

Although it was bombed by the British during the war, and only the first step of the impressively elegant stone staircase remained, it has been lovingly rebuilt as it once looked.

There is a calm and a stillness about the place that speaks to my soul...

And these words by Goethe, tweeted incidentally by the actor, John Cusack, also gave me some energy recently when I was waivering in my direction...

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffective, concerning all acts of initiative (and creation).

There is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself - then providence moves too.

All sort of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred.

A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manners of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.

Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it!

Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.

BEGIN IT NOW"

Famous last words...

2011-08-16T00:27:00.013+01:00

These words from Amy's own sweet cupid's bow lips...

p.s. I am away, but I've left a few petits morceaux for you while I am gone - Hope that's okay with you?

Mwah!

Absence makes the heart grow fonder... Or so they say!

2011-08-14T00:45:00.013+01:00

Madame Fhina is otherwise indisposed...

See you soon, mes belles, j'espere.

I'm over here on this chaise longue, languishing.

How louche, n'est-ce-pas?!

Soit gentil. Be good, you lot!

~Je vous aime...

Who takes this woman?!

2011-08-13T00:34:00.014+01:00

You see, the thing about attending weddings as a celebrant, is that you get to see all the latest fashions.

And all the faux pas!

Last two images courtesy of TV's fabulous, "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding"...
Indeed, it can be quite illuminating!

We're all going on a summer holiday, lah-di-dee!

2011-08-10T00:31:00.030+01:00

I am dithering about where to go on holiday...

I know it's a luxury many can't afford.

But I feel I so need a rest after so rough a year, with losing my job and all.

We never took a holiday last year while we got Grizz ready for (and thankfully settled in) Uni, and so on.

Thing is, my redundancy money is burning a hole in my pocket (not really!), and my hubby's business trip to Frankfurt is not a holiday for him (while it is for me, a bit!), so we want to get away together to somewhere reasonably warm (we're both fair so we don't do scorchio!) in September...

We had wanted to do our 25th Wedding Anniversary some justice and I so wanted to see Venice, Florence and Rome, but GJ's old fallen arch pain means we'll have to put it off to another time, as he won't be able to pavement-pound his way around the churches and galleries I would love to see.

So, GJ really fancies Bulgaria.

I really don't! Memories of my parents recounting stories of their holiday there many years ago have quite put me off!

We don't want to do any long-haul flights... Not after the Dominican Republic holiday a few years back, (which was lovely and the people were gorgeous), but the Thomson flights were a bloody nightmare!

He won't do Turkey, Tunisia or Egypt...

Italy generally is looking too expensive with the collapse of the Euro (ditto Spain and Portugal). A friend who went to the Lakes earlier this year was telling me it cost around 90 Euros per night for food and wine - My eyes would surely melt at that price!!!

Malta is expensive and almost everything seems to be fully booked (we do rely upon Sleasyjet out of Newcastle Airport for when we're doing our own thang and avoiding the package touts...)

Plus, reading reviews on TripAdvisor is giving me the willies!

Where would you recommend, mes bloggy buds?!

I'm all ears, like this little lamb!

EDITED TO ADD: WITH SINCERE THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HINTS AND TIPS, MES CHERS AMIS - ALL STORED AWAY FOR THE FUTURE!

A RUSH OF BLOOD TO THE HEAD AND, QUITE FRANKLY, SHEER DESPERATION - I'VE ALMOST TURNED INTO A BASKETBALL, I'VE SPENT SO LONG ON T'INTERNETS SANS MOVING, HAS MEANT THAT WE'RE OFF TO FUERTEVENTURA IN THE CANARIES.

...Not real canaries, I hope??!

p.s. Yes, I may have been shouting just then! I have been driven half-mad.

No, I know you wouldn't have noticed the difference!

Back to Black...

2011-08-08T00:00:00.040+01:00

During my quiet time away from the Interwebs, I was rocked by two news items...

I mainly gain my news via the Internet, so I did miss it when I could not, but with 24 hour rolling television news stations, you're never too far away from a story. Or so it seems.

I was in tears at the news of the terribly early death of lovely little Amy Winehouse.

I know her story has been everywhere, but I could not let it pass without saying that I feel so strongly that she should not have died.

How can someone so young, so pretty, so talented, so bright, have burned out at such an early age?

I loved her music and felt she harkened back in some ways to a sweeter, more innocent era in some respects.

Unfortunately, the lure of drugs is never innocent. Or sweet.

Suffice it to say, she has left a little legacy of treasure.

I really feel for her loving and long-suffering parents and family. And Amy herself, who seemed to me like a little girl who was afraid to grow up, and who seemed not to be able to love herself enough.

Now sadly she never will...

The second story concerns our neighbours in Norway.

I mourn for your tragedy, my friends.

I am so sorry for your grave losses.

I mourn your country's lost innocence in some ways...

Life will never be quite the same again, I fear...

So much talent. So many beautiful and bright young things.

Lost to a right-wing madman.

I am so sorry for what path your lives must now run along, my friends.

Such treasure now stilled...

May you all find peace in time.

I wish this for you, along with love.

Back to life, back to reality...

2011-08-05T00:43:00.016+01:00

Ok get this, people!

Having finally caught up on my backlog of e-mails, I just wanted to say -

No, I did not authorize Peter Williams to access a loan on my behalf after payment to him of $500.

No, I do not have a call on some funds left in a bank in Lagos, Nigeria by my widowed aunt whom I've never even heard of...

No, I do not require a Payday Loan. I no longer have a Payday!

No, I do not want to maximize my manliness. I am all woman. Merci!

No! My bank account has not been suspended after unauthorized access, because I do not have an account with your bank!

No - Please don't remind me that I once registered my e-mail address with Weight Watchers? I have put on a few pounds since even then!

Internet scammers, leave me the feck alone!

I need cake...

On the upside, last weekend I married my first couple.

They were young and so sweet and just lovely. On the very brink of their married lives together. The bride was in tears of joy and very beautiful.

This new little job of mine is such a privilege!

Who is it??!

2011-08-03T12:14:00.000+01:00

I have not been in Frankfurt... No, not yet.

I have been in Purgatory. The place that is Hell - That is, being without the Internet.

Problems with my router, modem, whatever the daft thing is, have led me to be sans t'Internets for over two weeks.

Copious conversations with disembodied souls in Mumbai have done feck all for my (in)sanity...

Finally, this morning, courtesy of a wonderful engineer called Lawrence, my otherworld Internet half-life has been restored to me.

Phew!

But what do I have to show for these moments of enforced isolation from you, mes amis?

My house is a wee bit tidier and I can see a patch of carpet in the living room that I had not seen since Christmas.

I say 'a wee bit', for I shall never be a domestic goddess - I am too comfortable in my slattern ways for that. But having a bit less chaos has meant I can see the wood for the trees and have a better idea about what needs to be done...

I'm also way behind on e-mails and general communication with other folk in the outside world. I rely heavily on the Internets. Even for silly things such as finding telephone numbers and making complaints to British Telecom about the shoddiness of their customer service.

It is amazing how dependent we have become on all this new technology.

In your absence, I actually married my first couple last weekend - They were gorgeous and it was a real privilege.

Thank you!

"Musik, Maestro bitte!"

2011-07-21T00:08:00.055+01:00

More on Frankfurt - Did you know that Frankfurt gave rise to a bustling techno scene?

No! Then why not??!

It's a very cosmopolitan city, where lots of cultures and races come together and live in relative harmony, or so it seems to me.

It's also one of the most popular cities to work in in all of Europe, with the majority of people being very happy, thank you, with their quality of life!

What does it take, do you think, to be happy?

Here are the stats for Frankfurt am Main - Frankfurt on the Main (the name of the city's river):

Quality of Life

Theatres	46
- of which foreign	7
Museums	47
Art galleries	109
Cinemas	48
Film festivals	9
Foreign business + leisure clubs	180
Restaurants	2,300
Discotheques	38
Music pubs	29
Music bars	13
Sport clubs	424
Public swimming pools	13
Botanical gardens	2
Zoo	1
City forest area	4,500 hectars
City parks	48

Forty-eight city parks - Wow!

I can feel the Wanderlust now!

I shall also be attempting to get into at least two of those swimming pools - They even have open air ones around the city - Like to see them try that in north east England!

In the past, I must 'fess up, I've often got the work/life balance wrong. Now, since being made unemployed, my cup of me-time almost runneth over...

Not sure how long I'll have this time for a stab at some leisure and pleasure, but I'm going to give it a go for a while.

Music often has the power to make me very happy, so I'm sharing with you today a little bit of Laith Al-Deen, who hails from Germany via the US, an Iraqi dad and a German mum. He's singing "Pictures of You" -

I'll bet you've never heard of him, but I picked up on his music while in Germany ten years ago, and I'm particularly fond of this song.

Hope you can sway a little to it today, mes bloggy Blackberries while you contemplate what gives you your qualité de vie ... And your joie de vivre, as the lovely Frogs say.

Rocking and rolling...

2011-07-18T00:58:00.018+01:00

GJ has booked a business trip to Frankfurt in Germany next month. I shall be piggy-backing upon this little jaunt for a wee hollingberry and busying myself during the day when he's at meetings.

I really feel like I need a little break - I'm cream-crackered - and what better than one that isn't costing me an arm and a leg?!

I've visited Frankfurt in the past, about ten years ago, when I was helping out with an international exchange of staff with Jobcentres in England, France and Germany. It was a wonderful experience and great fun was had amid oodles of hard work and lashings of German beer and wine!

I shall be looking forward to re-visiting Goethe's childhood home which is very beautiful and atmospheric, the old town and financial quarter, art galleries, seeing the incredible skyscrapers along the river-scape and taking in a leisurely coffee or five...

Hell, I might even do some swimming - It's been ages since I did and I think it's about time.

Often when we are caring for others so much, we neglect ourselves.

Are you guilty of that, mes bloggy beauties?

More about Frankfurt laters, bis bald!

Ode to Joy...

2011-07-15T17:47:00.000+01:00

So proud to have my 350th Follower -Welcome fiends!

I have been a bit quiet this week.   Some deep therapy was done in class and I have been sitting mulling on it.   I was helped through my learning thoughts by a wonderful lady who lives in the close orthodox Jewish community here in the north.   She is to become a firm friend. She exudes warmth and care.

I pick my friends carefully these days, having had my fingers burned and my trust not returned in the past.

More news - I've been staggered that more people actually want to come and see me at the surgery where I'm a trainee counsellor...   Wow!   I hope I can do some good work with anyone who makes the choice to step over my threshold...   Although clients can never become friends, I care about everyone I have the privilege to see and their stories form part of the richly coloured patchwork quilt that I'm sowing to keep me warm over the long winter nights to come.

This weekend, I'm also privileged to be attending three weddings - Yes, three!   This is the start of my training to become a casual celebrant of weddings, civil partnerships and general facilitator of baby-naming ceremonies...   What joy!

Finding joy in the small things, like the number of daisies there are to be found craning their heads along the roadside after rain and sunshine, is the order of my day.

Things are looking up, mes mecs.

I hope with all my heart they are for you too <3

The Return of the Kraken...

2011-07-11T00:51:00.022+01:00

You do recall that Grizz has come back home from Uni for the summer?

He's been back home for about a month.

There have been a couple of tantrums.

...Now he brings his girlfriend back a night or two each week too.

My living room is not mine own.

Ditto the telly. I can't remember when I last watched something I wanted to watch...

Mind, he's moving out to his bijou two-bedroomed flat with a student friend in August, (they know one another from school-days and he's from a fabulous family, so I am comforted they're going to get along fine as flat-mates...).

The downstairs Victorian flat they're scheduled to move into is situated in a posh part of the city around 30 miles from home. Beloved of students and its residents alike, I'd describe the leafy suburb as a lovely, 'chi chi' area of town - with heaps of long-established greenery and trees, a clutch of cosmopolitan coffee bars, a cocktail of conventional drinking holes, charming restaurants and pretty little 'lifestyle' shops that sell haute fashion and Cath Kidston to yummy mummies on the school-run.

I am studying for my qualification in Counselling in the area, and I just happened to look in a second-hand antique jewellery shop-window there the other day and the prices almost made my eyes melt.

And the notion occurs to me that, why is my boy having the kind of lifestyle now that I can only dream of?

Of course, I love living out in the rural countryside and being part of this community, but there's something about living a metropolitan life with coffee shops amid the comfortable chatterati; being close to the city but enjoying a peaceful, green pocket...

I'm wondering when I can move in??!

I think I know what his answer would be!

Diary of a Domestic Goddess...

2011-07-09T00:31:00.020+01:00

I don't have a job now - I think you know, right?

And, in spite of that, I find myself busy, busy, busy...

What with College, my voluntary job as a counsellor in a rural GPs' practice, generally faffing about catching up with friends and lazing around on t'Internets, it feels as if there aren't enough hours in the day.

So, occasionally, there is a sudden rush of blood to my head and I take myself to the kitchen (usually GJ's domain!) to prepare something. Last month I even baked some flapjack and some scones (slightly burned, very flat, still lovely - the scones that is).

And yesterday I put on a pan of pasta to let go cold to make salad, or for Grizz to heat up with some sauce and/or tuna when he came back home from dropping his girlfriend off at home.

I knew it would take about ten minutes, so I went off to catch up with blogs...

There was a Facebook competition where you could win a Kindle.   I thought I might stand a chance of winning, so I began to click away and register, etc.

...When I first smelled a smell that smelled like burning, I was really curious about where the smell of burning could be coming from.   Deciding it might just be from the kitchen, I tootled inside...

Afterwards, I started a very small trend on Twitter #anotherburnedpan

That would be the third in three months.   This pan is now in the bin and guess what I am out doing this morning?

I rescued the first pan, and the second is still sitting, steeping in water, at the side of the sink - I hope to get around to resurrecting it, it's not that old a pan!

I'm giving Nigella her 'Domestic Goddess' badge back - Pronto!

It ain't over until the Fat Lady cries...

2011-07-07T00:00:00.064+01:00

Sunday dawned like no surprise – I let Grizz sleep in and we scrubbed up well, dressed and set off once again for the Covent Garden area of London, as he had decided to return to the Penguin store to buy a bag he’d liked the look of in the sale!

First we ate lunch in a pleasant enough urban courtyard near Euston Station and joined the sweltering masses on the Tube system… The bag attained, we moved on passing Pineapple Dance Studios and one of Jamie Oliver’s restaurants and a sale at Cath Kidston. This meant I finally spent a (very small) amount of money on l’il ol’ me, but I did not glimpse Louis Spence, which made me sad.

This is Louis Spence, artistic director of the Pineapple Dance Studios (allegedly!) - Such fun!

I was allowing myself to get ever-so-slightly excited at the prospect of Stevie, while still worrying that ter Grizz would absolutely hate it, when we decided to take our spoils back to the hotel to save tramping them in to the concert in Hyde Park later.

After a rest and a second shower – London isn’t half grimy when the heat is on – We headed for Hyde Park, with no real sense of where the concert was going to be held.

By this time, Grizz had mastered the Tube system and we disembarked at Green Park, because well that was bound to be Hyde Park, was it not?!

Several bruised tootsies later, we attained the entrance to Hyde Park and made for the venue, having been pointed in the right direction by some good old British Bobbies, bless them!

It was a walk in the park. Having found a spot about half-way down the field away from the stage, where Grizz and I could put down my paisley shawl and hunker down, amid whole extended families and a few rock lobsters glistening after a full day in the sun!

I allowed myself to feel a small frisson of excitement at the prospect of Stevie; This was enhanced by watching her road crew prepare her mic' with the ribbons, crystals and baubles that are her signature touch.

By the time Rod arrived to announce Stevie's set, I was all a-tingle, and Stevie did not disappoint. I was watching through water, however, as the tears of absolute joy and happiness at seeing her perform solo overcame me... I am sad like that. What made me even more happy was that Grizz noticed and said he was so glad he had come to see just how joyful this had made me.

Grizz clapped and jiggled away - He has been brought up with Stevie's music from way back in the womb, after all. He found Rhiannon to be probably the most amazing thing and loved the band. He chose Landslide to sneak off and go and get us a drink, leaving me to wallow and watch through water again... A pint of cider helped me nicely to recover my senses and oddly reminded me of the cider lollies I used to enjoy when I was a little girl...

By 'Edge of Seventeen', I had lost the ability to see, so watery were my eyes, but the large screens and excellent sound (at least where we stood) did the business, and I waved Stevie off with a silent wish that she would return to the UK to perform solo again. What surprises me is that she doesn't think she has an audience for her solo stuff here in the UK, while her British fans know she could probably sell out the Albert Hall twice over...

What amazed me most of all was that Grizz also thoroughly enjoyed Rod's set - We stayed until half an hour before the end, so he got to see Ronnie Wood stagger enthusiastically onstage a whole song early, only to be shuffled off by Rod, 'so he could be properly announced!' - Magic.

Rod's band took the honours - A beautiful girl brass ensemble and perfect saxophone, teamed with blistering 'twin' drummers who were incredible, as were the guitarists and well, just everyone.

Rod's transition from soul song to blues just blew us all away and I never expected to hear him perform 'Handbags and Gladrags', which simply made the air in the Park crackle with electricity.

Stevie came back onstage for a rousing rendition of 'Young Turks'. I'm not sure that either of them get on together, but this duet was better than I had expected... Overall, I was more impressed than I ever believed I would be with Rod, who was admittedly cheesey but back to the height of his faculties, but the night remained Stevie's. I say night, but she performed in sunglasses on stage for the first time in her career -

This was the hottest day of the year in the UK so far, and the light was indeed blinding.

So were Stevie, Lori and Sharona. And the band played on...

I am so grateful to my gorgeous son for coming along with me in place of his dad, and making the weekend so magical. Love you Grizz!

p.s. the sound was much more wonderful than these clips show, I swear, but I am very grateful to some lovely people on Youtube, who have uploaded them <3

And to my countryman, David A. Stewart, for weaving magical musical webs that shimmer...

The Music Lesson.

2011-07-03T00:05:00.005+01:00

Never let it be said that Fhina doesn't listen - Hope the colours are gentler on the eyes, darling Suldog? Mwah!

And so, on the morning I was due to travel to London with GJ, my ball and chain, he announced that his ankle had swollen to the size of a Christmas pudding and he would not be able to come with me. Instead, he summoned the Kraken who awoke, and my nineteen year old son, Grizz, was press-ganged into accompanying me.

Cue half an hour of door slamming and furniture being kicked and lots of grizzling (yes, his nickname isn’t Grizz for nothing….) (He has a friend whose name is Chaos – I should have known, really…)

Thankfully, by the time we had settled into our First Class train seats, for (GJ had upgraded our tickets as a redundancy treat for me!), and were tucking into some breakfast, Grizz had settled to the idea of travelling south with his ancient crone of a mother to a music festival in the Park.

By the time we got to London, I had realised that 1) the European Grand Prix was due to be on TV this weekend, and 2) GJ might have been afraid to leave his new (second-hand) motorbike (curse E-bay!) on its own in the garage for three days… Still, we reached our hotel safely, unpacked and set out onto London’s scorching streets in search of entertainment.

We headed towards Leicester Square which, like most of London at the moment, appears to be clad in wooden fencing and polythene, while Boris the Mad continues his prettification of the City for next year’s Olympics!

Moments later we were sweltering in Covent Garden, shopping until we dropped for some bits and pieces of clothes and fripperies I owed Grizz from last Christmas (when I was terrified about my future and the money situation and literally proferred an IOU).

Basically, I had plans to give Grizz his idea of a trip to London, rather than my own – I had been keen to visit artist Frederick Lord Leighton’s home! Well satisfied and boiling hot, we stopped off for a sherbet drink in the Lyric Pub off Piccadilly/Soho which was very sweet and old and friendly – I really could imagine the women who would have swept up and down the narrow, rickety staircase over the years in their skirts…

Suitably refreshed, we pressed on looking for shoes – Now Grizz is not a man after my own heart, he does not resemble his mother when it comes to shoes – Each shoe is carefully weighed in his hands and severely critiqued – A ‘slightly askew’ or ‘not the right colour’ bit of piping is cast firmly aside and on we continued in search of the Unicorn of Shoes. In Fhina’s case, on the other hand, it’s more a question of ‘if the shoe fits…’

Finally, (sans shoes), on Saturday evening we ended up in Brown’s in Covent Garden which provides reliable and perfectly serviceable food and drink for prices that don’t startle the horses.

In fact, Grizz could hardly believe that we had eaten and drank till we were stuffed, (and, in the case of a six foot five male teenager, that’s saying something!), for less than 30 quid!

We had passed The Ivy earlier, and I’m sure you can’t say the same about that restaurant, although I ticked a box in my head to put it aside for another day’s visit, as the prices there weren’t as unreasonable as I expected and I was curious about the Art Deco stained glass and design of the outside of the restaurant…

And the days go by...

2011-06-30T19:04:00.000+01:00

I have been listening to Stevie Nicks' silver words since I was twelve years old.

I don't think I ever thought I would still be here, singing along to the sound of her voice when I was almost fifty.

I never believed I would see Stevie in my lifetime, because Fleetwood Mac had disbanded and re-formed over and over throughout the years, plus Stevie never seemed to perform outside of the US, and I never would never have enough money to go to America to see her there.

But, making my fortieth year for me, I had the pleasure of seeing Fleetwood Mac for the very first time, when they toured the UK with their Say You Will album tour. I might have cried during Rhiannon, because her performance was just so moving and magical. There were tears in GJ's eyes too, as I recall. And he's not a man to cry easily...

Then, a couple of years back, I saw them perform again, this time at Wembley in London, for their Unleashed tour. Admittedly, these days they tour without Christine McVie because she prefers a quieter, English provincial, life but I honestly believe Stevie and Lindsay are the powerhouse of the band nowadays, leaving the bold, bad John and Mick to provide the same, solid, powerful percussive background that they have done for all of their lives together.

Yet, when I heard last year that Stevie was touring the USA with Rod Stewart I have to admit that I was puzzled. I wondered how this pairing would work onstage and I have been guilty of castigating Rod over the years for 'selling out' (as I saw it) with songs such as ‘Hot Legs’ and wearing leopard skin leggings, when he could have been the biggest blues/soul singer the UK had ever seen. (Do Google Python Lee Jackson's 'In A Broken Dream' for more evidence, mes bloggy dahlinks).

So when it was announced (signalled to me on FaceSlapBook by my fab friend, Saz, bless your heart, my sweet!), that Rod would be playing London's Hyde Park this summer with Stevie supporting, I rushed to Ticketbarsteward's website like a person who'd never heard the words 'redundancy,' 'unemployment,' 'penury,' 'penniless' and 'workhouse'...

This weekend has been an absolute dream for me. I shall share more laters, m'dears!

(Always keep them guessing and wondering... That's what the Gold Dust Woman would say, after all!)

Heart and Soul!

2011-06-23T11:05:00.001+01:00

Have a fine weekend, friends!

This weekend, I shall be mainly rustling in chiffon, leather and lace and rubbing shoulders with rock royalty.

Hope there's not too much rain to dampen my spirits!

Enjoy, with all the heart and soul you can muster, mes braves!

We live in complex and challenging times...

2011-06-20T00:49:00.039+01:00

Well, it's Monday again and the start of a new working week.

Well, at least part of a working week for me.

I have an induction session today for my new job helping people to marry the loves of their lives...

Well, hopefully they'll be the loves of each other's lives!

I'm not sure what the week will bring. Are we ever? But I'm okay with that.

I think...

What I've become more aware of recently during therapy, (which is a compulsory part of my training course to become a counsellor), is that now I've found a little job and got over that great big 'hump' I slumped through after losing my job at the whim of Government, as it were, it's probably time for me to actually deal with the sense of loss and my attachment to my last two jobs.

...And I really know that this means I am going to have to re-visit the loss and grief involved with both my parents' deaths and some of the resulting turmoil that ensued in my life.

...And this week, in our community which mainly gathers in the local basic pub, which also serves as Village Hall, Sports and Social Club and second home for many, a strong and vibrant man - a farmer long of this area, and five years younger than me, has been lost after a long battle with leukaemia...

I had thought he was in remission, not close to the end of his days - He was a strong man, lambing his flock at the end - We saw him with his new wife and an old friend the Sunday before he died - It had been a cold rainy day after a few days' of sunshine and the atmosphere in the pub was also grey.   It was odd, but my husband and I blamed it on the weather...

Now, I am not so sure.   On Tuesday, he died of pneumonia, refusing to have his last jabs.

I am grieving for the loss of him, his presence in our community, and his vibrancy and strength; I feel for his just-adult sons who have lost their rock and anchor;   He only got married a few weeks ago, and I know his new wife's loss is great and they had known one another since their schooldays; and I also feel the sadness of the mother of his children too...

Such times put into perspective our comparatively smaller losses in life, do they not?

Grief is an incredibly complicated thingie, I believe.

So is joy...

I wish you great joy.

A little bit of fun!

2011-06-18T21:48:00.000+01:00

Oh, it's all been a little bit of doom and gloom around here lately.

But this, and my new job, have cheered me up!

I love this advert, which my American friends might recognise, but which is pretty new to British shores...

Filmed in one shot with only a teensy tiny bit of CGI, this is an incredible commercial from a young team in Portland, Oregon. The actor is a former sportsman called Isaiah Mustafa

I love it! Hope you do too...

It certainly floats my boat, and my late father used to love Old Spice!

Ride A Seesaw!

2011-06-16T09:39:00.000+01:00

Thank you for your kind words this week on my securing a wee job, and for sticking with me through what's been a pretty anxious year for me, to be honest...

What is anxiety?

Why do we allow it to have so much power over us?

What are we really afraid of?

Is it the nature of the human condition to be predisposed to innate anxiety, or even depression?

What do you think, mes bloggy blueberries?

Please, for me, have a weekend where you spend at least some time nurturing yourself. Can you do that?

What are your plans?

My news...

2011-06-13T00:43:00.008+01:00

I got the job!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you for all your warm wishes and care when I was wobbling like a jelly on a plate of late!

Subject to references from my last employer being okay - (And why should they not be??!) - I will be training soon to officially register, (albeit casually, but a permanent post - If that makes sense?), fabulous weddings and wonderful civil ceremonies in this building and elsewhere across the City, (photo courtesy of Google and a talented young photographer named Shepy CLICKIE

I am so honoured and so proud to have been chosen to take part in people's important days, and I hope this chance of work will fit around my counselling studies and voluntary job in the future... I am off for four weeks' training to learn how to do the job very shortly.

Fingers crossed for all concerned. Je vous aime... Je te jure!

Questions and Inspirations!

2011-06-09T00:12:00.014+01:00

Enough already about me this week! Sometimes I do go on.

And on!

Tell me in the Comments section, if you please - What inspires you in life?

And, if any of you are up for it, ask me a question that you're burning to ask.

I'm not easily offended, I swear.

Eight months working in a youth work charity will do that to a person.

After coming in up the stairs to the office and taking my coat off to conversations and questions about anal lube and beer goggles, I'm practically bomb-proof, je te jure!

I've been for another interview this week, mes bloggy loves...

This time it's to officiate (in a casual capacity) at secular and civil ceremonies and weddings - What divine luck and chance that would bring - I can't wait to hear about it!

Very Vintage Vie...

2011-06-06T00:51:00.048+01:00

As I mentioned last week, I've been inspired by finding some lovely new bloggers who have taken Vintage to their hearts, and who decorate themselves and their homes with the results...

Check out Vintage Vixen and Helga von Trollop across there in the sidebar if you wish to see, please?

My most favourite amie in Blogworld (and other worlds!) is Sara of Fab, Feisty and Fifty (she is!), and she always made me dream with her tales of searching for Vintage clothes and items, and selling them online from her Sara's Attic on Etsy.   I envied her her style and taste.   I still do.

And, at the same time, there is something about this day and age that we are living through.   ~ When folding cash is thinning in my purse;   When it seems obscene for me to covet new things for my home, when I've always been drawn to 'stuff that has lived'... I love old things.

When I was younger, I always wanted my home to be filled with half-modern, half-antique furniture. It is. I don't think it's necessarily well co-ordinated, and it is far from finished, but I do love to search Thrift, Vintage and Antique emporiums looking for bargains and loved, needful things. I just don't do it that often, and the north east is a bit short of good places to find stuff, it seems to me...

However, I think the growing numbers of lovely ladies across the world, who are making a small living, and making their homes and themselves look beautiful, quirky, fascinating, unique by drawing upon discarded fashions and once-trendy labels are little crackers one and all.

And why not?

I only wish I were thin enough to wear the fashions. A plus-size girl can still dream though...

(Postscript:   Thank you to my friends who, stopping to leave a comment recently, said - Go join a patchwork class if you can't find a patchwork quilt that you love; Go find someone to teach you crochet, when you've got as far as buying wool and a hook.

Inspired by you, I've signed up for the next batch of crochet sessions at a nearby wool shop, Treacle Wool - I never knew they offered them. And I've checked out and signed up to hear about quilting classes at a more distant barn, formerly a farm, beside the sea. I'm not there yet, but I'm working towards things - And if you hadn't told me to get my act together, I would not have done it. So, to you, ta muchly!)

What did Napoleon have to say again, about England being a nation of shop-keepers??!

2011-06-03T00:31:00.040+01:00

I've been a bit busy this week.   Crazy, that is, since I gave up work on 4 March 2011!

Then, if you hadn't already noticed in the sidebar, I made the BIG decision to give up my voluntary job too about a fortnight ago. I had planned to leave at the end of May if I hadn't found work. That deadline was set in my mind as the date on which I would receive the last of my redundancy money from my former job, and I would have found myself another (probably part-time) job.

I haven't!

So, awash with tears at leaving some dear colleagues and new friends I felt I had to leave the youthwork charity to sort of concentrate full-time on finding a job.   I also have the friendly jolie laide Jobcentre breathing down my neck...   Then I came down with a dreadful viral infection which put me in bed for almost a week and then turned me into someone who coughed like they had had a lifetime Woodbine habit for the next week.

Bleedin' typical of Fhina's luck that is!   'If it wasn't for bad luck'...etc.

So, I have recovered myself somewhat.   My sense of taste is back with me again - Yay!   How my lovely grandfather survived for forty years of his life without a sense of smell, I just can't imagine...

I am still knee-deep in jobsearch.   It's not a good market in the north east of England just now for anyone looking for work...

I am, however, chock-full of ideas.   I am also somewhat risk-averse.   That was a good quality in a Civil Servant.

It's not a good quality in a budding entrepreneur!

Yesterday, feeling far less than flush, and inspired by the lovely Vintage-loving blog-ladies who have just started to appear in my sidebar, I flashed my plastic Marks & Spencer card in a British Heart Foundation charity shop (thrift/goodwill).   There was very little Vintage to be found, that did not have a hefty price-tag and a 'Vintage' label on it already - They must have some savvy shop-staff...

However, I did buy around £20 worth of pretty boho/hippy colourful clothes I'd never fit into, for a young woman probably twenty-five years younger than me - "Ideal Summer Festival Wear!"

At least I think it is...

I'm headed for e-bay to have a go at being a seller.

Do you have any tips for me, mes bloggy loves??!   I'd love to hear them.

Alfie Boe - Lend 'us a tenner...

2011-05-30T00:00:00.015+01:00

Matt Lucas, openly gay and proud British comedian, introduces the northern (Blackpool, Fleetwood via his Italian heritage!) tenor, Alfie Boe, performing in his kitchen, a laptop karaoke, if you like - Alfie Boe sings for his supper while living temporarily with Matt while they were both in Les Miserables on the London stage, and he 'warbles a bit' according to Matt.

Gotta love this!

A half-finished life...

2011-05-27T00:15:00.068+01:00

This week has found me quite ill and languishing in bed.   Not Auntie Gwen's bed, which is replete with White Company 'linges' and looks just like a boudoir you'd find in a hotel, but my own, which is boho-shabby, or just shabby really...

Half-started, half-finished work is at hand there.   Wallpaper is half-peeled from the walls.   This is the wallpaper, a dark china blue festooned with fussy flowers that I swore would be the first thing in this cottage to go when we moved in around 10 years ago...   What's up with that?!

I took the faded curtains down and the mis-matched poles about two years ago.   The mirrored sliding door wardrobe is hanging off its hinges.   What am I waiting for?

I bought a pair of pretty, second-hand pink Toile de Jouy curtains in one of my favourite bijou places a year ago.   I have two windows to dress, and one set of curtains.   Why?!

I am still searching for that perfect, worn but wonderfully vintage, gypsy patchwork bedspread that will echo my every dream. I see it sometimes in pictures in magazines. I never see it in real life. Why can't I reach a compromise?!

This trace of perfectionism I detect in me only serves to cause me delay in completing projects - I'd love your views on that?

Then, in another lovely blogger's pictures of her bedroom I found my perfect chandelier - It's even called 'Gypsy' - This is it in the picture! I had to have it - Mrs Jones kindly told me from whence it came and I ordered it when it was out of stock. It arrived just after Christmas. I'm still waiting for my electrician to hang it. He lives several doors down from me. He has my door-key to let himself in at any time to do the job. He's about to move house to the next village. I'll probably never see him again. I suppose I should get my key back off him before he leaves!

Still, at least my Edwardian dressing table is in situ after only a year of waiting in the garage.   I need the room to fall into place somehow around it.   I just need the perfect chair to sit at.   I just remembered that I bought loads of vintage pink gingham checked cotton on the roll from a wonderful shabby-chic e-tailer and blogger, Shirley, from Simply Chateau in Normandy...   I could have that made into curtains and cushion covers and a chair seat.   I'd even forgotten I had that tucked away...

My life is on hold.   At least it feels like it is.   Being unemployed, I cannot face, or countenance, any new outlay.   I am living in a half-finished nightmare, or dormant dream, whichever way you want to look at it.   I am not sad, merely pregnant with anticipation at getting there, at some point, with my cottage home...

And then my husband is going to ask if we can move house.   I just know it.

Perhaps I'm destined never to achieve my dreams.

Tell me yours?

Mwah!

2011-05-24T00:56:00.009+01:00

Right, you lot, it's been a while since we've had a little whirl about the living room - Danced our hearts out (not literally) and our socks off...

Here is my latest pretty ditty from Caro Emerald... She hails from Amsterdam - One of my favourite cities, although I do prefer Haarlem... I love the Netherlands, and its people. Warm, bright and possibly as mad as a box of frogs - Fhina prefers her friends that side of Sane!

And there's nowt wrong with a little bit of old-fashioned romance every now and again, non??!

Luck and life...

2011-05-21T00:21:00.068+01:00

Isn't it funny how we can be taken in and held by others in life?

Isn't it amazing, how if we put out those tender tendrils of love and care, sometimes they come back to us, manifest and fourfold...

I spent quality time with an elderly couple this week.   Inspirational, they are to me, the pair of them.

I was on the Leek Hunt again.

Yes, it's that time of year, when I get my Leeka Mundi out and travel the country roads in search of leeklets, baby leeks, I call them - I don't mind that others laugh when I say that - And, in September, all this hunting may mean I can join in our rural community's bit of jollity - The Annual Leek Show!

It's a bit of fun.

Some people take it very, very seriously...

I'm not kidding you.

People have been known to poison a rival's leeks, or to turf them from their beds as they grow at night.

In some parts of the country, men (for they're usually men who grow leeks with such fervour) used to sleep with their leeks, torches ready, to prevent any malfaisance.

Revenge... a dish best served cold - Not like leeks, best in soups!

Anyhoo, mine get shoved out in large pots at the front of the house to 'let them hing as they grow', (make the 'ow' sound, as in now, and you have our accent!), as my old Mum used to say - Albeit they get watered and fed like kings.

So, I tootled off in my old jalopy to visit Elspeth and Joseph.   (Not their real names...)

Elspeth and Joseph are my Leek Dealers.

Legends they are, hereabouts.   Sweet and decent folk, hard-working, wonderful. Funny.   They laugh their way through life, and there's nothing you could tell them about plants, or this area, that they don't already know.

There is a magic about them.

So, I sat in their parlour with its old range of a fire, cordially invited in for strong coffee, while the wind whipped about the nineteenth century house that they've lived in for half a century or more, while Joe filled my car-boot with baby leeks, and afterwards they spun such stories that wove around me, cloaking me in love and light.

Life.

...And I am exactly the age their son would have lived to be, had he not fallen from his motorcycle at the tender age of seventeen.

Spaces, Places, Faces...

2011-05-19T00:12:00.022+01:00

I'm being lazy, plus I have College work to do...   Time, and counselling wait for no man...

And I have plenty of jobsearch to do.   The world is just waiting for me to pounce upon it.

How I wish I could just sit here and write.

Don't we all??!

Anyhoo, if you didn't already know, sometimes I'm over here PLEASE CLICK FOR LINK.

Mad, Manic Mamas...   I'm one of those too, in more than my spare time!

Conundrum...

2011-05-16T00:11:00.029+01:00

I am setting up such a store of hope for myself,
And some sadness.

I hear myself make promises I cannot keep,
I know not why I say the words...

I think I am more self-aware these days,
The flow of years can help so much.

And yet, I find I cannot dare to voice,
Just what I really fear, and why?

Painting: The Conundrum of Wrath - Artist: Laurie McClave HER WEBSITE

I Believe In Faeries!

2011-05-09T00:36:00.070+01:00

Having sworn for a long, long time that this blog would never step one foot over the commercial line, I have received a welcome visitation from a far-away land, where there are emerald trees and friendly trolls that live under bridges.

I love my Beautiful Auntie Gwennie, although we have yet to meet. Hers was one of the first blogs I ever read, and even though some of our friends have sadly passed by the wayside on the Last Train out of Bloggesville, Auntie Gwen is still writing like the Scottish genius that she is, and making my sides fair split with laughter at her bold cheeky-girlness - Do click on her name to see her blog.

So, when she mentioned she had received a visit from The Fairy Hobfather, I was intrigued and, since at that time I was tippy-tappying on my son's new laptop when mine had gone to the Clinic of Broken Laptops for rehab... I might also have been praying out loud to the, seemingly very deaf, Sony Vaio Faerie...

Now, I'm not ashamed to admit that I like to treat myself occasionally. Window shopping mainly - Faire du lèche-vitrines - as the Frenchies say - A hobby which has been sadly neglected since I became one of the great unemployed and unwashed... (NB, not everyone who's workless is worthless, and thank you for your kind words to me t'other day too). I walk past shop windows like a horse with blinkers on these days, je te jure.

Anyhoo, I do have my eye on a Kindle on Amazon: GJ spotted his boss using a Kindle on a recent business trip, and says he thinks I need one since I regularly have a dangerous book-pile the size of Everest on my side of the bed; I think I deserve one, the book-worm that I am.

Please tell me whether you are a convert? I have yet to be 100% convinced, for I do love the feel of a book in my hands, held under the bed-covers on windy winter nights...

So, The Fairy Hobfather visited me, and promised great riches, in fact there appears to be a crock of shining gold - or vouchers from Amazon - at the end of his special rainbow.

At least, there are savings to be had CLICK HERE at his household goods grotto secreted within the land of Appliances Online, a British company.

You may recall that my son, Grizzler, when he was home last, punched my fridge-freezer in a bout of frustration? Nice. This caused the light within the fridge, (which had blinked its last some years before, about a week after I bought it), to spark back into life!

However, around a month or so later the freezer part of the now ancient, fridge-freezer sighed its last. I don't seem to be having much luck with appliances of late.

Tant pis! Such is life, eh!

So, I happen to be 'in the market' for a fridge-freezer. GJ fancies a large glossy American-style one. I hope he's thinking about an appliance and not a new wife - He's always on the look-out for a new roost, you see.

If you leave a comment here for me over the next couple of days, you too may have the pleasure of a visit from The Fairy Hobfather, as I did when I called chez Auntie Gwen.

He really suits his pink tutu and faerie wand, I can tell you!

Cinemoi...

2011-05-06T15:32:00.000+01:00

I am battle-weary with filling in job application forms at the moment...

Do employers not understand that it takes hours, HOURS, to complete just one and it is such a fierce employment market that, unless your application hits all the nails on the head, you are cast into a fiery pit of unloveduppedness?

It is years since I was out on the jobs market. Nearly 25 in fact.

From some employers, I hear nothing. From others, that I have made the 'first cut' - Good. I rarely make the second, and so:

From others - a very small number - that they've granted me an interview at which I'm obviously going to fail miserably, because they seem to want a cross between Reece Witherspoon in Elephants Like Water, and Dolly Parton in Seven To Six...

J'en ai marre, I tell you.

What has a girl (well, middle-aged fembot-not) to do?

Advice below, please? Cheers, me dears!

Where I am...

2011-05-02T00:32:00.014+01:00

Clickie

A view from the ledge...

2011-04-30T10:28:00.000+01:00

I loved the dress... And, as in the picture above, I thought it had hefty overtones of Grace Kelly's elegant lace ensemble, with a different neckline of course. The veils and bouquets seem practically identical.

In my view it was lovely, tasteful and understated, with a nod towards both the past and the future, very stylish. I loved it that she had chosen to go with the House of Lee McQueen - A nice touch. British, eccentric, troubled - Shades of the Monarchy there, methinks!

I thought the mahogany tones of many of the Middleton family, including the bridesmaid, Philippa, were a trifle overdone. But who cares about my opinion, eh? Mr Lagerfeld does not have my number in his little black leather book!

I felt the Abbey looked wonderful with the golds and the reds, heightened by the greenery provided by the trees.

In spite of myself, and I only watched a little of the mad hours of televised footage, (FGS, it's still going on this morning, and I've been reduced to watching the Fishing Channel with John Wilson, to avoid it!), I believed it looked almost natural, a real wedding complete with nerves, doddery old relics that don't get on, and not to be trusted, wobbling best man, in spite of all the pomp and ceremony that surrounded it.

I loved the music choices, particularly Jerusalem, which courtiers sang at Fhina's own wedding almost 25 years ago...

We chose it because of its rousing tradition and untarnished beauty, the poem by the quite mad, William Blake, that I had loved at University.

I'm just not going to go there with the lot that believe it champions an ideal of England, not a United Kingdom.

I see myself more as European, rather above all those bigoted arguments.

And so - Voila. (CLICK HERE PLEASE)

Weddings, schmeddings...

2011-04-26T00:12:00.001+01:00

A little bird whispered in my ear that there's a special wedding taking place some time soon...

While I wish them well with their lives and hope that they find happiness together, I just can't get excited about it, to be honest!   Not one jot.

The lives that the royals live are so far removed from our own. I do respect Princess Anne, who has at least attempted to keep her own children's lives out of the scope of media attention, and who still works very hard in a life of public service, but who 'pays her own way'...

I harbour no grudges towards Prince William and his so-called 'Commoner' Bride, Catherine.   Although her upwardly mobile family may make for some close-to-the-knuckle press headlines in the future, to be fair.

I shan't be pinning up Union Jack bunting to my walls, nor toasting their health with a glass of bubbly.   No-siree.

For me, much of the light on the royal stage went out when, like a doe-caught-in-the-headlights, Princess Diana was hounded to her death in a road tunnel in the centre of Paris, either by the paparazzi or by whichever conspiracy theory you choose to ascribe to.   Not fair.   Not fun.

In the modern world, the mediaeval notion of Kate having to produce 'an heir and a spare' to prove her mettle seems positively barbaric.

I might take a sneak peek at the telly, though but...   Just to see the dress.   Well, no-one can resist a wedding, can they?   Least of all curmudgeonly Fhina!

Fragments of the Artist's Life...

2011-04-22T00:00:00.003+01:00

Many moons ago, some of you were very kind as to comment on a little piece of my creative writing - I play with words. I dream (occasionally...) of being a writer and yet am probably too lazy to actually get on with it.   Although I do become frustrated when I see some very bad writing, (in my humble opinion), achieving success out there in the publishing world.

Do you, mes bloggy buds?   Go on, whisper in my shell-like...   That's what comments are for.

With this post today, I'm not fishing for compliments, but it would be enormously helpful to me if you could offer up some critique of this meagre snippet of writing.

I'm curious whether these few sentences would make you want to read on, if it were a historic chick-lit kind of story, for example?   Please tell me if you think I need to give up, and step back from the pen now!

I was inspired to shape this fragment after seeing an image of the artist involved in a bound copy of Victorian newspapers from a private collection of books that are in the hands of the City Library in the centre of Newcastle. I looked down upon a black and white engraving that showed those artists who had been recently admitted as Fellows to the Royal Academy of Arts, and my finger fell on F. B. Dicksee.

I wasn't familiar with his name, as such, but after some research, I found I do know some of his paintings - His art to me appears very romantic and his talent is exacting.   He was said to have frowned upon those artists whose shoddier, more modern work, came after him.   I note he was classed among the Pre-Raphaelites, but I imagine he may have been lesser-known.   He was a prolific artist. Perhaps that's why he never married. Maybe not.   In later life, just after the turn of the Twentieth Century, he became the Academy's President.

CLICKIE here for more of his paintings.   He was to remain a bachelor all his life.

I'm embroidering a past here...   I'm imagining a thwarted, frustrated, slightly mad mistress - younger than he, and very lovely, 'though not quite of the same social or educational standing, (as appeared to be somewhat customary in certain artistic circles, see Jane Morris and Fanny Cornforth).

Forgive me, Frank.

"Oh, he's handsome all right, is Frank.   Sleek, shiny brown hair, like that of a bear I saw once in a museum at South Kensington; falling down across his sweet face and parting to reveal a brooding, high intellectual brow that lets you know he is your better.   Hazel eyes bear down into your soul, leaving open wounds.   A piercing gaze, always looking off somewhere else.   Dreaming of another painting, further high society commissions.   Another grand dame perhaps, who'll harken to his every command.   'Turn this way, Mrs Foster.   That's it!   Up towards the light.   Allow the air to cool your cheek.   Let me see that passion in your eyes, chere Madame...'   That was our problem, really, when I think back on it.   When I'm not in my cups, of course.   My jealousy of all those others.

I'd be thinking of him, longing for him really, while he was staring at another woman's tender form, half-naked, swathed in lengths of flimsy cloth and quivering slightly in the strong northern light from those great tall windows in his garret at the top of that draughty house of his.   Long hours spent capturing another woman's beauty, when I should have been enough for him.   He told me once that I was all he'd ever wanted.   With flames of red for my hair and my blue Scottish skin, I was his enchanted Yseult, his sylvan maiden, Sylvia... Miranda...   His alone.   I never was with anyone else.   Even though I was asked out by other men who'd spied me behind the high counter of the haberdasher's shop before he did.

Captivating, he was.   All broad shoulders and strong arms, just like the bear.   Warm and loving, for a time.   Perched high above in his artist's eyrie, Greville House, 3 Greville Place, St. John's Wood, he wraps himself in a blue cotton, paint-speckled apron, and could watch the world go by without ever having to take any part in it, if such was his desire.

All those fine men with their dark secrets and pale mistresses, passing in the soot and rain-blackened street.

I wish from my heart that I'd never set eyes on him".

Luck and life...

2011-04-20T00:29:00.019+01:00

When I first began to write this blog, if you remember, I was lying prone on my couch at home, first awaiting and then recovering from back surgery.

I now find that, courtesy of our beloved Con-dems, I am lying on my cooch again, once more blogging, with only myself (i.e. not my back!) to blame...    It's odd being unemployed for the first time in my life (I'm not counting those few weeks after graduating!)

Only the other day, rushing through the streets of Newcastle, on my way to College and just back from a job interview (so looking very dapper in a black suit and pink mac), I was accosted by a gentleman of the road, asking me if I had any spare change...

As an automatic response, I shouted, "I'm sorry, I'm unemployed."

To which he shrugged his shoulders and I sensed that he understood.   That there was no point in assailing me.   That he knows, just as much as anyone, what it's like to be without meaningful work, counting the coins in your pocket and walking away from the aroma of wonderful coffee emanating from yonder cafe, because well, you just shouldn't.

I'm not being morose, mes amis.   I know that things will work out.   They will.   They kind of always do when you're educated, trained, resourceful.   I'm just not so sure that those words describe me at the moment!

Now breathe...

2011-04-18T11:16:00.000+01:00

I think this image will be far too big for the blog - Ever so sorry! I am getting used once more to my own laptop, since it has had its 'heat sink' removed and re-soldered and it stopped 'eating and destroying disks'...

Of course, tippy-tappying away on this little shiny thing compared to using my son's new Vaio, it's rather like using a toy typewriter. But, as they say, mustn't grumble!

I hope you like the technical nature of my foray here... This is as far as it goes!

As for the picture, this is Rhein Maidens by Arthur Rackham - I've always liked his faery and fairtale drawings. Click into it, please, to see its full beauty, if you can only see part of it today.

Well, I heard back from the job interview I went for last week. As I thought, I didn't get the job. Too bad. Or 'tant pis' as les Francais say...

I felt I'd really handled it badly. I was nervous, probably unprepared. This is the first 'outside' interview I'd had in years of working in the Civil Service. The panel of 3 women were all younger than me. I don't think that's a good thing, really. I worked with women older than me when I first started out and they didn't make the going easy, if that makes sense. I was viewed as a threat and they down-played my ability and wondered how I could possibly be doing the job, when I didn't have their years of experience, etc...

Now the boot's on the other foot, and I can see things from another perspective, if you were young would you feel confident about having a 'subordinate' who had more experience than you?

Like I say, the worst of it was that I was distinctly unprepared for what came up, and waffled some questions and examples... I went on about never having missed a deadline. (I never have). And then they gave me a suite of tests - Half an hour, ten minutes per test, 3 tests, and I only fully completed the first one, which was to compose and save a letter in Word. The second test concerned creating two spreadsheets - I managed one and three quarters... The third test was another letter, compiled from a policy document... FAIL.

So, I'll live and learn another day, folks. At least I got an interview in these challenging economic times...

I was also up for another job that I really fancied. My friend who works there found out I got into the top 7 to be interviewed, but only 6 were selected... Of those 6, 3 went on to decline the interview... Hey ho.

Sometimes I do wonder whether I am merely trying to exchange one institution for another. Maybe I need to take time out to fathom that one, mes bloggy buds?
Earlier this week, I stopped in the street on a busy road to feel the silky velveteen softness of an unfurled spring leaf.

I commend it to the house as an exercise in just being...

Six Word Saturday...

2011-04-16T16:07:00.000+01:00

My laptop is back with me!

To the Internet... And beyond!

2011-04-14T00:13:00.000+01:00

I haven't posted much recently, have I? Since my laptop breathed its last in the Priory for Addicted Laptops, and I've purloined this lovely beastie from my son, who really has greater need, but then his old laptop still works. So, until he gets home for spring break, or whatever it's called here in the UK...

When I was without my laptop, which I've only had my paws on for just over two years, I'll be totally honest I felt somewhat bereft.

I missed what was happening in 'the world'... I felt a little out of touch, isolated - Especially given my rural location, and my lack of a meaningful job at the moment - More about the interview laters...

How much of our own self-worth these days is now wrapped up in our on-line lives, do you suppose?

Do you even think about it, mes bloggy chums?!

Apparently, the way we think and how we structure our time is changing as a direct result of our capacity for social networking. CLICKIE. I know mine has. Our children have the attention span of ADHD gnats, as a result. And yet they're not any less intelligent than those of us born in the Sixties', or Fifties', or whatever we're owning up to in terms of age this week!

We who only had draughty Public Libraries for refuge once a week, levering our forms into the heaviest chairs to study at, next to the, sometimes smelly, homeless man who had come in from the cold to read the papers. (Now he probably uses a Blackberry or sits in the Internet cafe... Ok, I'm being facetious).

To continue - We with our access to weighty tomes and encyclopedias - in said Libraries... We who had pens and paper, not screens and keyboards. Our kids are probably just as bright as we claim to be, in fact. Thank Goddess for that!

But our lives have changed irreparably as a result of social networking, non?

Last week I spent a lovely afternoon at the Coast with friends - We went to Crusoe's in Tynemouth - The weather was unseasonably good and I was surrounded by people I've worked with - recently and in the past - who mean a lot to me. We've all met one another at various (and vicarious!) stages in my life (and theirs...)

What we all have in common is that we all talk on Facebook. And now friends from my past have made new friends through me and each other, courtesy of (mainly ripping the tiddle out of each other!), social networking twaddle and chit-chat... Without it, they'd probably never have had the opportunity to meet one another...

One dear friend whom I met in my twenties even brought her sister who's now a dear friend too, and I'd only ever met her before virtually!

It made for an interesting afternoon, as we all got along, as conversation waxed and waned, and we each treasured some authentic real-life moments that had had their fledgling beginnings in black and white...

Friends are to treasure, no matter where we may encounter them in life.

Yikes!

2011-04-12T00:06:00.002+01:00

Today I have an interview for a new job - Please be gentle with me!

Image courtesy of Dilbert, Scott Adams, thank you.

Spring Lamb and Greens...

2011-04-07T00:18:00.007+01:00

Did I tell you already that I love this time of year?

Spring!

When the Blackface lambs start appearing in the fields, gambolling about, nudging their mothers, kicking their heels and challenging one another to play 'King of the Castle' in just a few short weeks...

Things always feel much better for me with Spring on the horizon. The fields seem to absorb the light and glow emerald green here in Hope, Northumberland.

The wide-open skies are dense with scudding clouds, replete with rain to feed the earth and fill the thirsty streams which flow on to the North Sea, impenetrably blue.

Soft green buds unfurl their fronds which feel like heaven to touch. The perfume of yellow gorse and blossoming heather blows down the valley, air-borne, meeting my nostrils and making me dream of summer honey from local busy bees fed on those very same flowers.

'In the spring, a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love'.

Mine turns to the beauty of where I am fortunate enough to live...

...And breathe.

Photo of Lambs on Holy Island, courtesy of Andrew Gibson, Chronicle Live.

Photo of Northumbrian Skies, Wild Teasel, flickr.

Lines from Locksley Hall by Alfred Lord Tennyson.

Love and Life...

2011-04-04T00:06:00.004+01:00

I am in love...

With my son's new laptop, that is.

A Sony Vaio something-or-another - Yeah, I'm not THAT technical!

But I love its shapely form, its silver-screen, matinee idol, good looks, its ability to draw me back into the demi-monde of tippy-tappy like a loon lost in the desert for weeks without water...

But I have to give it to him on Tuesday. It's his, not mine.

He only allowed me to use it because I had an assignment to hand in for my Psychotherapy course.

Yah boo, hiss!

Mine, meanwhile, has already shagged two disks and is apparently behaving "like a real bad Mo'Fo", whatever that means - I think it's a technical term?

Does anyone out there have a laptop I could review, perhaps?

Pretty-Please. With sugar on top?

Jerst saying!

Latin Matins...

2011-03-31T00:40:00.005+01:00

Requiescat in pace...

Government Office for the North East

1994 - 2011

Atmospheric photo showing the view from what was once our office, towards the majestic, mysterious, River Tyne, taking in part of what remains of Newcastle's mediaeval City Walls, its ancient towers, ditch and ramparts, taken by one of my former colleagues, Graeme Andrew Stickings 2009.

Adjacent to the Walls is the Gate to our Chinatown, on Stowell Street.

~ I have fond memories of pressure and stress, some of which was the very good kind: And working hard with wonderfully bright and intelligent friends and colleagues and their passion for the North East.

I shall remember our belly laughs and occasional hysteria!

Hard work and good times.

Much love,

Fhina x

Technical Update from t'Interwebs...

2011-03-28T20:31:00.003+01:00

My darling laptop is still giving me grief, while it is away, at the Priory for Addicted Laptops... I sense it will never be restored to my hands. Never. It is reported to be, 'Too far gone!' Meanwhile, I am temporarily roosted upon GJ's work laptop, which has security settings which do not allow me to comment on your lovely blogs... Or post pictures. Or breathe. Or write... Or look forward to writing. Or anything really, apart from check my hotmail account. Pfft! Pity me... Well, really, I'm full of pity for myself, so just tell me to 'Get a grip and get on with it!' In the meantime, until I can send you warm kisses over the faithful interwebs once more, please take care of yourselves and those that you love? For me. Look away now! There's nothing to see here... :)

Six Word Whimper...

2011-03-21T00:49:00.001Z

My laptop has fall-en over!

A Wish...

2011-03-17T00:48:00.005Z

This last two weeks, I have been mainly getting to grips with being unemployed, for the first time in so-many-years-I-don't-even-dare-think-about-it...

What does this mean?

It means:

Loss of the overall self-esteem that I felt, I guess, working in a high-level job in an office with a regional profile, and of a certain renown;

Loss of income and potential/future income;

Loss of the opportunity to build upon a relatively secure pension with almost twenty-five years of contributions made;

Loss of the opportunity to progress within the job, to some degree - It took me years to get promoted...

I'm very proud of what I achieved, what we achieved in our small ways, and yet thwarted slightly in my ambitions to get to the next grade... To be honest, I think I've reached a settled place in my mind about this moot point. I'm not that bovvered.

That I had absolutely no control over the decision to end my job is something I have tussled with slightly, to be frank.

I swore early on that I would not give the politicians my tears. Heartless millionaires are not deserving of my valuable tears.

But I've found myself unable not to shed any tears over our plight.

I know that on the scale of recent matters in New Zealand and Japan the loss of a number of Civil Servants' jobs just does not equate.

...And yet there are many innocent lives which are already being adversely affected by the ruthless ambition of politicians and Whitehall mandarins, namely,

The young women who were holding off on just the right moment to have a family;
The two young couples who had picked late last year or early this year for their wedding dates, and who had to revise their plans, (or not), as the case may be;
The lovely lady who cares solely for her very frail mother, whose husband was also made unemployed in January - That's two of them out of work;
The couple of couples who were both employed by my office - For them, and for us, this is a step off a cliff with little cushion to bounce upon...
Similarly, there are those of us with lovely children who have years to go at University, and whom we naturally need to subsidise heavily, albeit very willingly;

Enough, methinks.

Where there is despair, there will be opportunities;

Where there is loss, there will be re-birth and repair;

Wherever there is death, there is always new life - In time...

Have hope, have faith - Whatever it is you choose to cling to.

With warmest greetings to my friends in New Zealand, to friends of friends in Japan.

I am sorry for your great loss and enormous sadness... May you be held gently by the love that is felt for you around this world of ours.

(Photo courtesy of Fiona Andersen Photography, please CLICK ON LINK, New Zealand via Flickr).

Missed Opportunities...

2011-03-14T00:34:00.006Z

Thank you muchly for your recent kind recommendations for digital cameras...

Armed with the extensive information, I chose the time period 'two hours before flying to Paris' to try to procure a marvellous Nikon Coolpix camera.

FAIL!

I am now the proud owner of practically the only camera that Currys could offer me, which is a Canon Ixus 105. The lovely lady in the store advised us helpfully that the worst time to buy a camera is the day before you go on holiday, as you are likely to spend the entire time trying to work out how to use the damned thing.

GULP!

Needless to say, the practical instructions (or should that be 'destructions?') remain in their tight cellophane cocoon, and GJ and I did manage to work out the machinations of the camera nonetheless. Photographic evidence of our Parisian sojourn will be displayed at a later date, for reasons that shall become clearer in time...

You see, the trouble with buying a nice piece of kit, such as a digital camera, is that you spend most of your holiday trying to prise it out from the paws of your ever-so-techie other half, while he pretends to be a slightly younger and a tad porkier, blond version of David Bailey...

You will also find, that the very moment you need the camera - as you visit Paris around the time of Paris Fashion Week - to capture the fleeting image of divine French designer, Jean-Paul Gaultier, who happens to be crossing the road before your very startled prying eyes, your other half is trapped inside a hermetically-sealed, hygienically self-cleaning, public loo (GRATUIT!), with said camera in the inside pocket of his yachting jacket.

Just saying...

A Caruso...

2011-03-12T00:01:00.001Z

This song brought me back to some fond memories this week - Des memoirs about living in France with a French/Italian family during two school exchange visits...

Merci Violaine et Enza, wherever life has taken you, mes belles...

I hope you like it too, mes bloggy reves.

Passions...

2011-03-09T00:20:00.003Z

Oh, Milka chocolate, I worship at your milky, chocolate-y borders...

And since I found that the Poundland shop sells three bars for £2 (should that not be the Two-Poundland shop, then??!), I have been sipping at your stream of loveliness for far too long...

My jowls are flabby, white teeth now brown, my blood may even have turned 80% proof Milka.

I care not, I dare not... Except, since my last visit to the Several Poundsland shop, when I found that they had only three bars of purple deliciousness left - Three bars that is on top of the three bars I held uneasily in a clammy paw - I may have to find a new dealer...

Yikes!

His second best bed...

2011-03-07T00:57:00.004Z

I know it's the tradition in Blogworld to give occasional shouts-out to friends we meet hereabouts, to people we know, even family - To share their words and lives further out into the world...

In keeping with this tradition, I'd like to introduce you to my friend and former colleague, Steven and HIS BLOG

Steve is beginning to find his own voice and his own life, like me, outside of the confines of the Civil Service, and there is life to be found, to be sure! Steve actually inspired me to become part of this year's inaugural World Book Night, CLICKIE -

With patrons as wide and wonderful as Oscar-winner, Colin Firth, JK Rowling, Nick Cave, Roddy Doyle, Tracy Chevalier, Antony Gormley and Damien Hirst, Gil Scot Heron and Tilda Swinton, who was I not to take part?

From World Book Night's site, "On Saturday, 5 March 2011, two days after World Book Day, the Booksellers Association, the Independent Publishers Guild, the Reading Agency with libraries, World Book Day, the BBC and RTE, one million books will be given away by an army of passionate readers to members of the public across the UK and Ireland.

The book give-away comprises 40,000 copies of each of the 25 carefully selected titles, to be given away by 20,000 ‘givers’, who will each distribute 48 copies of their chosen title to whomever they choose on World Book Night".

I was selected to take part after I had described how I intended to bring Carol Ann Duffy's collection of very diverse, uniquely voiced and quirky poems, based on well-known myths and fairy-tales, with a strong feminist twist, to a distinctly rural and somewhat isolated agricultural community, including local parishioners and passing tourists, who might serve to spread the books even further afield...

Well, I thought it was romantic!

And so, on Sunday, hot off the 'plane from Charles de Gaulle, I found myself visiting neighbours and slipping a slim copy of The World's Wife through their letterboxes, as well as dropping by my local pub to ensure that the Saturday locals could feast their eyes upon a mouth-watering display of the first 21st Century Poet Laureate's books, in black, white and fuchsia, set off by publican Val's beautiful display of hand-picked pink roses and white blooms of chrysanthemum... I'm sure the Saturday stalwart darts players didn't mind...

Anne Hathaway
by Carol Ann Duffy from The World's Wife

'Item I gyve unto my wife my second best bed ...'
(from Shakespeare's will)

The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, clifftops, seas
where we would dive for pearls. My lover's words
were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses
on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme
to his, now echo, assonance; his touch
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Some nights, I dreamed he'd written me, the bed
a page beneath his writer's hands. Romance
and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.
In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,
dribbling their prose. My living laughing love -
I hold him in the casket of my widow's head
as he held me upon that next best bed.

Je suis a Paris!

2011-03-05T00:40:00.003Z

...In case you had forgotten - Just thought I'd rub it in! A bientot, mes bloggy Pinots Grigios...

Happy March!

2011-03-02T00:52:00.001Z

SOURCE OF PHOTO Spirit Visions...

The Toon II Home and Away...

2011-02-28T00:33:00.002Z

I wasn't getting at anyone with an allergy with my last posting - I appreciate that they can be horribly dangerous things. It was more the thought that someone could unfurl a little patty of butter, and not understand that milk was its foremost ingredient - Gah!

Anyhoo - Oh, but I'm glad you liked the shots of Newcastle, the city that I work in and am still getting to know and explore!

I didn't take the pictures, BTW, I found them via Google and Flickr. I so want to get a nice little digital camera, so I can post my own photos - Perhaps I'll spend some of my redundancy money on a pink one!

Can anyone recommend anything you use?

I am in Newcastle, England, for those that weren't sure... I admitted previously to living in Neurotica, and this side of Insanity, to be fair, but I live a good few miles outside of the city, in the remote hills, which I love...

And, I'll just send a little wave to those lovely ex-pats that called by from exotic locations - (((Waves))) I think those might be hugs - Still, can't be too loving...

So, on to see a little more of the city, that you might not already be aware of. I tried to pick the ones with the bluest skies. We're not known for our clement weather, mind... It's often "A bit caad!", or cold, in these parts FYI.

These are the Georgian streets, among the first that were planned in Europe - It's not all in Bath, you see!

Earl Grey's column - Yes, he of the tea! Did you know? It's gorgeous - Mind, I do love a good cup of Lady Grey myself! And always with milk!

These same streets were well known to Dickens and Wilkie Collins, who came up to Newcastle's theatres on their book and reading tours, and George Stephenson, who invented the steam engine had his factory and offices here - Right next to the Central Station - Handy! - I'm betting you didn't know that either...

This week, I'm heading off to Paris - City of Light and Grande Architecture...

A vicious Peruvian guard-dog and his owner, a house-sitter, are growling in my living room as I type...

I'm quite proud of Newcastle, really!

Au revoir - Je t'aime - Mwah! Mwah, mes bloggy braves! xxx

Is it me?!

2011-02-26T00:35:00.004Z

Sitting in a cafe yesterday, killing an hour before I went to a conference, I partook of a fruit scone with my latte - Pronounced skonn, not skone... (Here in the North!)

Unpeeling my bijou pat of butter from its golden envelope, I read the words upon the fold:

"Allergy information - Contains Milk"

Is it me?!

The Toon...

2011-02-21T00:09:00.006Z

For some, whatever, reasons I have been rather reticent to show you much of my city...

I fear the silent stalker, the squalling internet troll-baby, the slip of a thief in the night.

Call me daft!

Married to an IT Space Cadet, as I am, (as well as having been previously shackled to the Crown for almost 25 years!), I have been particularly careful of spilling too many beans about who I am, where I live, the places I haunt.

How do you feel about that, in your case, mes bloggy loves?!

And now?

I think, 'Who cares'!

So, here goes!

Newcastle is a very 'bridgy' city...

We have seven, in fact...

Here they all are, for your delight and delectation! Click on the pics to get the full effect, s'il vous plait?

The top picture shows our newest bridge - Gateshead's bridge, in fact - The Millennium Bridge -

Known by everyone as the 'winking eye', or the 'blinking eye' because of the way it opens, just like an eye does - As in the picture, allowing boats to sail further up the foggy Tyne, just as they have for centuries...

Fhina's eyes are open! ...Nowadays, so is her heart.

There are no secrets between us...

Friday was fine - I survived my last day of in the office! Mainly, I did it by not telling people it WAS my last day until I had three minutes left before I had to leave the office!

I recommend it as a way to leave without actually bursting into tears, leaving the last memory of you with people you love, as a right snivelling wrecklette!

Now, tell me your secrets?

Pretty-please?