When I grow up . . . .

100 th post.

2012-02-25T01:27:00.001Z

So this is as good a time as any for a quick progress report. The first post was 5th (?) October where I had 16 months to hopefully make some changes in time for my 50th birthday . . . 5 months on, almost a third of the way, things are looking far better than I ever imagined.

It's fifteen day's since I said "no" and most days it doesn't even enter my head. The days when it taps me on the shoulder and says "hey you . . . remember me? . . you looking a bit stressed, you know I could soon change all of that for you" . . . I say "I'll sleep on it . . . and I'll let you know tomorrow" by which time things have always changed. It still amazes me that it has gone from my life. Just like that. Gone.

My teeth are being made. My feet are being mended. I spent three days worth of "would've been" gear money on various foot products and have sat for hours soaking, grating (!) softening, massaging and moisturising them. They needed it. It feels like I have someone elses feet on. It's the first time I have spent money on my feet!

I'm psyching myself up with each hint of Spring to get busy . . . I mean real busy. Not just day to day life busy . . . Gardening and decorating busy. I'm not sure when it will happen but I'm pretty sure it will . . . Well I hope it will. I'm waiting for the energy really . . . I'm not sure where I think ts gonna come from . . . The Spring maybe?

In fact, I am starting to "Enjoy some of the good things that Heroin replaced" which was one of my goals mentioned under "about me".

I honestly don't think this would have happened without this blog. It forced me to look at things and think about what I really wanted. It made me realise how desperate I was some days as I struggled to find words to explain how I felt . . . It led me to other bloggers and their stories of change and hope.
And . . . somehow it attracted some very caring, encouraging, understanding and beautiful people . . Yeah You!

I couldn't ask for more . . . It's working. So here's to the next 11 months . . . Onwards and upwards.

Ok, I was about to say goodnight. All is calm. All is bright . . .

. . . Now guess what? Geekster asked me earlier if he could have four (!) mates round for a sleepover for a late 13th birthday "do" . . . Erm? . . . . . No! "Ok we'll camp in the garden" . . . In February? I think not. Also, by the way, some of the (new) mates were sniggering that their "4" might be more like 7 and I heard a mention of beer . . . No. No. No. Forget it . . .
Later he said him and 2 others were staying at Cam's house. It wasn't Cam . . . but there does seem to be a lot of "Cam's" . . . What sort of a name is that? Cam. Ok. That's fine. . . .
Now . . . at ten to one (shit! . . is that the time?) someone has just burst out of the shed, which is built within the house, underneath my bedroom . . . and thrown up on the patio! they are in the fucking shed . . . I kid you not. The little ~~fucke~~ swines! I best go and deal with this. Bugger. Bugger.

Before I go though . . . thanks to every reader. Little buggers the lot of them (Not you, them lot ;-)

Let's get down with the trumpets - yeah yeah

2012-02-24T01:56:00.000Z

It's past one am! I'm starting my post with "Is that the time!?" instead of finishing that way. Though I am almost finished. Just a flying visit to say . . .

Occasionally I hear Stropster listening to some "music" that catches my ear . . .This did. Well the trumpets did. They caught hamper G's ear too . . . and before long we were all dancing to it.

"Just be careful you don't lose your chick when I dance" . . . Love it ;-)

I also loved the warm sun today. Yes warm sun. I looked at the garden. It could be amazing . . . It might be. It would do both me and the garden good. Both physically and mentally. Not now though . . . It's definitely bed-time. Way past. May your dreams be peaceful and easy. I'm not even gonna mention the time.

De-Goofing

2012-02-22T23:16:00.001Z

As is always the case, the reality was a walk in the park compared to the anticipation . . . Why can't I remember that next time? It's the same every time, yet I always put so much effort into convincing myself this time will be the exception . . . What's that about? Foolery.
Saying that, he did have to do the top impressions twice . . . and the second time he filled the "denture trough" with gunk, as he explained to the nurse that she hadn't put enough gunk in the first time!! Just after my heart rate had returned to normal after having survived the first "bite". It could only happen to me.

And what is it with dentists and sense of humour? I don't know any dentists in "normal life" other than in the dental surgery . . . I wonder if they are"different" in general . . . Who are they? . . Do you know one? I don't mean "know" in the biblical sense . . . No . . . I just mean know one to talk to?
I said to him "The only thing really bothering me is having to undergo a general anaesthetic"
"Why?"
"In case I die"
"O yes, well that can happen"
"Aren't you supposed to reassure me?"
"Well I suppose I could lie and say it won't happen, as you're not likely come to back to tell me I lied if it does happen!?! . . Har har. He sounds German but they say he's Portuguese. He doesn't look Portuguese. He looks Swiss. German Swiss.

Even though I only have six front top teeth left I am rather partial to them. I've known them for a long time. They are quite big, slightly protruding with a "pronounced" over -bite (Goofy?) . . . But that's what suits my face . . . That's what I'm used to. I'm quite concerned about that disappearing. Ermm . . .
"When I get this top denture, it will be the same as my teeth won't it? . . . the same angle and over-bite?"
"No. Not that bad"(!) He said
"Yes but I want it to be that bad" . . . That's the point . . . I want them as close as possible to the real thing . . Complete with faults, angles and over-bite . . . like they are now . . . why is that not possible? Is it possible? " . . . He was starting to look a bit impatient.
Possibly thinking . . . If you were so bothered maybe you should have come ~~eight~~ twelve years ago.
So I shut up. For now.

And I'm gonna shut up (for now) again because "One born every minute" is on. It's "fly on the wall" thingy following women through childbirth. I'm not sure why I want to watch it really. I got quite frantic last week as a woman naturally gave birth to the second twin, who was breeched. You knew it was touch and go when the "old prof "was called in. It was a worrying five minutes.

Stropster has finally got his own bank account so I can have mine back. Yay to the joys of on-line shopping again . . . and with money to spend on myself this time ;-) Now that is a novelty.

I'm off to look for boots. Yes boots. Spring boots, Summer boots . . . I'm not really a shoe person. I'm a tired person. Too tired to look for boots even. Goodnight good folk x

Guilt, gunk and pickled Jalapenos

2012-02-21T23:57:00.001Z

I've postponed Pancake day until tomorrow. I have the ingredients for the pancakes but ~~the kids~~ Geekster always wants some obscure filling which means buying a whole jar just to be used once then chucked next year . . . So as it's "weekly shop" tomorrow he'll have to wait. Yet another small but significant freedom gained from being clean. No more guilt driven compensation. Ha. I hadn't bargained for quite so many rewards.

O shit how have I gone from pancakes to getting clean in four lines. That's barely an intro is it? But whilst I'm here I'll just explain briefly what I mean . . . although it's probably obvious even to a non-addict what I mean.
The guilt didn't come from them "going without" . . . O no they never went without . . . Quite the opposite. Never even missed a Pancake day! The guilt was all within . . . As in, if they had (God forbid) missed a pancake day or lived through an other such life-wrecking trauma . . . In my mind it would be blamed, in my head, on me being an addict . . . It couldn't be simply about not having any Nutella until tomorrow . . . and even if it was then that would be because I was an addict. How dare you not have Nutella in a house with three kids? Yes I bet I know where that Nutella money went . . . And the Jif lemon . . . Call Social Services this is tantamount to abuse!
Ok you get the picture. . . and this applied from pancake day through birthdays right round to Christmas. I had to get it right every time. No room for compromise. So . . . Gone. No more . . . No more guilt. No more compensation. I can relax and put Pancake day off for a whole day . . . and guess what? . . . No-one gave a damn ;-)

Other than that I have a dental appointment tomorrow to have impressions taken . . . Well you can imagine the horror films that I'm dreaming up about that. Actually you probably can't unless you're as bonkers as I am . . . You see when you bite into those denture shaped troughs full of fast drying gunk there is a lot of (fast-drying) gunk-displacement and where does it go? . . . down your throat, that's where . . . fast drying? . . . and there's not much you can say in the time its drying . . . Whilst the dentist counts, with his back to you . . . "Keep biting!" Seventy five . . . Seventy six . . . Have you ever tried to un-bite? impossible. Or say "Ermm . . . Excuse me, please? . . . I seem to be choking here" . . . Impossible.

I think I better change the subject as it's only twelve hours away . . . That's if I can. I suppose the less teeth you have the less (fdg) displacement occurs which is good news for me . . . I only have six top teeth . . . Yes, six . . . I best get those "before" photos done before it's too late. Geekster? camera? scanner? cables? . . . No news there then.

Quiet day today . . . Busy day tomorrow. I'm off to write my shopping list starting with Nutella . . . and pickled jalapenos for the savoury pancakes . . . Unless last years jars are still ok ;-)

Hopefully I will survive the dentist and be back tomorrow. Sweet dreams and sweet days x

Goals for this week . . . and one more thing.

2012-02-20T02:00:00.001Z

Ok somehow this week I have to get Geekster to sort out the cable for the scanner and show me how to use the damn thing . . . There are so many pictures, drawings etc I would like to put on my blog and taking a photo of them with the webcam is just not good enough . . . Especially when I have a scanner here. It has to be done . . . This week.

Whilst I have Geekster locked in, I have to get him to show me how to use the camera on his iphone then transfer the pictures to my laptop . . . another cable/lead to find. I know this sounds very straightforward and probably will be when we finally do it . . . So we just gotta get on and do it. . . . This week.

Basically what it amounts to is getting Geekster to stay in after school for an hour (or so), find the appropriate cables, slow down his brain and speech to accommodate my ~~speed~~ slowness of learning . . . Not get irritable when I need something repeating ~~twice~~ a few times . . . and to just realise that I need these things.
I'm fed up of saying I will post a photo and not being able to do it . . . I want to do "before and after" photos of my garden, my teeth, my house . . . my life! and at the rate things are changing I need to start now to get the "before" ones done . . . Or at least this week.

Another good thing that came from me being in bed ill for almost two weeks . . . I lost 6 kgs! What a bonus. That's a good incentive to carry on and lose a bit more or at least keep those 6 kgs off. It's all in the right direction.

So there we go. Nothing major but these are my intentions for this week . . . along with staying clean. Now why do I feel like I have more chance of staying clean than getting some photos scanned and posted? Who'd have thought it.

Just briefly (whilst we're on the subject . . . The subject being staying clean in case you didn't notice me steering us there) it is really bothering me that some people don't believe me. I "get" that it shouldn't bother me . . . Or indeed, make any difference to me . . . But it does. I never did lie when I was using and I'm certainly not about to start now . . . And why would I? What's to be gained? My drugs worker did say "Don't expect other addicts to be pleased for you" which I do understand but . . . I'm not talking about other addicts here . . . Oh I don't know. I just don't get it.

Fortunately I have found some amazing people here who accepted, believed and encouraged me when I was using . . . and and are still doing just that. Thankyou. It means a lot to me that you, who were "strangers", read through my struggles, didn't judge, didn't doubt and helped me to believe it could happen. It has happened and each morning when I wake up and realise in those first few seconds that "it's gone" . . . I'm up and smiling :-) . . . If I was still using I wouldn't even be able to imagine how great this would feel. I couldn't make it up . . . I have to stop letting this bother me.
All I ask is if you think I'm lying please stop reading here . . . Why would you want to read the lies of a deluded junky pretending to be clean?

To all the rest of you from Bangladesh to Bangor . . . Sweet dreams and days. It's never two am? Again! Goodnight all x

Was it daffodils you wanted?

2012-02-17T01:11:00.000Z

Oooooo ya bugger . . . I' m walloped, right worn out. Almost too tired to type . . . What a busy day. Cleaned the twenty-five hamsters out and cooked caulifower cheese with roasted winter vegetables. Definitely one of the kids favourites and one of the hamsters favourites too as they get loads of raw veg . . . Bless their whiskers. Hamper G (called hamper girl as she used to call the hamsters- hampers), has a real way with these dwarf Roborovskis who are notoriously fast, hard to catch and even harder to keep hold of. She kind of cradles them lying on their backs in the palm of her hand with her thumb across their bodies and they seem to relax and "sit" there for ages, even to the point of falling asleep . . .Then she will carry on going about her business with the "hamper" in her hand. I realised how much I'd missed chatting with them all in the last two weeks whilst I've been mainly upstairs . . . It was good to catch up with them.

Went down to the bank to find out why they haven't sorted out Stropster's account yet . . . They'll get back to me. Took my medical number to the dentist so they can refer me to hospital and ~~shocked~~ saw my drugs worker . . . She didn't even want a urine sample to prove it, she could tell by my eyes. Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway) she was very happy for me. She was also very surprised . . . She even said "It's a bit like a miracle really" Yes. I said. It is. I stopped myself from saying "As performed by God" lest I catch that "O here we go with an addiction transference . . . let's see how long this one lasts " look in her eye . . . I did say that a lot of good little things had started to happen since I stopped and she asked me "Have you heard of the law of attraction?" something about good attracting and causing more good . . . I said "No. Is that a new thing?" . . . O alright, I didn't say that really, I said "O, right, I get it . . . That sounds good" :-) My Dad used to say "If you plant daffodils . . . don't be surprised when daffodils pop up".

She did say "You might do well to delete your dealer's number from your phone" . . . I said "It's in my head, not my phone". Anyway, taking any number of those precautions is pointless because if you did want to use again you would . . . With or without phone numbers, money, phone credit or lungs.

Other news? Ermmm, . . . Yeah I was asleep again there. Tomorrow will be good. Homemade lamb curry with naan bread. I hope you're all well and good. O bed . . . I love bed when I'm so tired. Happy days and dreams . . . I'm gone x

Hello, Hello, Hello . . . . O Hi!

2012-02-15T02:46:00.000Z

Well I ventured out today for the first time in two weeks. I went to my Dr's appointment which was originally booked for yesterday but as I wanted to see the same Dr, I got it changed to today. I went to the market with Mum to choose some wool so she can start knitting a new jumper for me . . . She has to have something to knit, a bit of a harmless, creative addiction really. Then I walked a hundred meters or so to Sainsbury's to get some "emergency" shopping.
A very mundane, eventless outing except . . . On four seperate occasions, four men, all in their late fifties, early sixties, all tall, a bit rugged and slightly bohemian looking (scruffy:-)) looked me very directly in the eyes and said "Hello" . . . Without any hesitation, questioning or doubt in their tone or expression.

I was kind of caught unaware each time and responded with a simple "Hi" but by the fourth time even Mum was baffled. "Are you sure you don't "know" these men?" she asked. One hundred percent sure, there was no way I had ever set eyes on any one of them. How bizarre.

Mum reckoned it was to do with a light in my eyes and face. An "openess" . . . Well it certainly had nothing to do with two weeks unwashed/unbrushed hair, two weeks unplucked brows and whiskers ;-), No make -up, trackie bottoms and an oversized hoody . . . So who knows, maybe she's right. Maybe I have a spring in my step or am just "walking tall" . . . If I was alone I would 've thought I'd imagined it. Could I be projecting my newly re-discovered self?

O well whatever it was, it was the highlight of my day . . . I know, what does that say about my day? The Dr. was satisfied with my progress and didn't prescribe any further anti-biotics . . . Just a few more days of "taking it easy" ;-) . . . I didn't tell her my news. It's almost as though it's so fragile that I feel the need to protect it . . . like a new-born baby. Also I would've been hurt to catch that raised eyebrows, pursed lips look of "Hmmm yeah we hear this all the time from your sort" . . . But that's ok, I've got plenty of time. I'll still need my weekly prescription of methadone until I decide whether to wean off to nothing or transfer to Suboxone once I'm down to 30mls methadone . . . I needn't do either for a while.

So that's it for today. I'm almost asleep. Proper food shopping tomorrow and I must clean out the hamsters. Bit of a boring post . . . Bit of a boring day :-)

Thanks as always to anyone reading this. I often enjoy checking out which countries I've had visitors from. I try to imagine the reader sat in India, Latvia, Russia etc. . . . Who are you? how was your day? I'm intrigued. All these different lives invisibly connected. Sweet dreams to all where the sun is setting and where the sun is rising . . .I hope your day is a good day. It's never half two?! . . . I'm gone.

Happy Valentine's Day . . . A love song

2012-02-14T14:20:00.001Z

The official "It's gone" post.

2012-02-14T00:57:00.000Z

Ok I have to at least devote one post to it . . . Surely? To what? . . . I Know, it's probably getting a bit boring, but for my future reference I feel it deserves a short post that I can refer to. After which I will attempt to change the record for a day or two ;-) So here goes . . . I best milk it for all it's worth.

I've just chosen not to take heroin for the past five, six, who's counting? days.
Are you sure?
Yes absolutely 100% positive.
How come, what happened?
I can't explain it other than a huge change at some level within me.
Something went, was removed, disappeared. The overwhelming "need" to score and use of an evening . . . The panic at about 8pm if I tried to not score. The persistent texting until I got a result . . . Not being able settle down until after delivery . . . It all just went. That's about it really. Like having a rotten tooth removed. Gone.

I keep half ~~expecting~~ dreading it coming back . . . Almost to the point of I daren't even say "But I know it won't" . . . just in case.
It's as though my memory has been wiped. Until . . . I'm asleep.

An hour's nap this afternoon felt like three hours trying to tell my dealer not to come round.
Firstly (in the dream) He called me to say he had stopped supplying . . . I said that's ok because I've stopped using. Then he says "Well obviously I will still get some and you will be on my special list" . . . As I tried to say "No, don't worry, I really have stopped" the connection started breaking up and I couldn't get my message through to him. He kept saying "I can't hear you, but don't worry I will pop round . . . I can't hear a word you're saying, I'll see you later" . . . then I began texting him and as hard as I tried to type the words into the phone . . . they were not the words appearing on the screen . . . Then he was at the door and I was telling him . . . "No, I really mean No" . . . Then it's there in front of me, on the foil, and I'm not sure now if I'm trying to say "No" but that's not what's coming out . . . And so it went on from one scenario to another.

When I awoke, for a split second, I thought I had used. It was a heavy, sinking feeling deep down in my stomach . . . It was good, but a little disturbing, to realise it had all been a dream.

This is not a literal fear as he his not the sort to insist . . . He could hardly be bothered sorting it when I did want it . . . And I'm easily replaceable. I don't think he'll miss my meagre custom.
It must be more a case of me not quite believing it myself. Of it seeming too good to be true. A fear of not being heard or believed. "All addicts are liars" and all that . . . I didn't even tell my Brother until yesterday.

Ok that's about all I have to say. Just so I know how I felt at this stage. I keep getting secretly very excited about all of these changes actually happening for real . . . Like, if this can happen, then anything is possible.
I almost daren't allow myself to envisage a future with these changes in place . . . As if it will turn out to be a cruel joke or something . . . Am I mad?
Is it because I didn't suffer to "stop" that I don't feel I've worked hard for it and therefore don't deserve it and the rewards that come with it?
One simple desperate prayer for the strength and ability to say "No" . . . Granted. Thank God.

Surely soon I will believe it, trust it and bledy well get on and enjoy it?!

Just in case you were wondering

2012-02-12T23:25:00.001Z

Yay! I've been invited by Jeannie to answer some questions about myself then pose eleven similar questions to eleven other bloggers. I've seen this kind of thing on other blogs . . . and wondered if one would ever come my way. I swapped the vacation question (as any readers will know we camp out) for the look-a-likey question.
It has come at a good time as I wouldn't usually have time to indulge . . . but as I'm still on second day "forced rest" . . . I've managed to keep the washing/drying down to four loads today, mopped the kitchen and made a "proper" shepherd's pie . . . I have a few hours spare to ponder.
I think this might do me good. Even if it only serves to remind me that I exist, this could be very valuable exercise.

1. What is(are) your secret (or not so secret) outrageous longing(s)?

Wow this has got me thinking. I went from thinking I didn't have one . . . To having to choose which one to write. I could be here a long time. I hate decisions . . . O for God's sake it can't be so complicated . . . This is question one! ermmmm
Ok to be a grade 8 pianist (or even just a real good pianist) . . . To make my kids proud of me (yes, I know totally outrageous ;-) . . . and to own and drive a camper van.

2. What kind of restaurants do you prefer right now? Or what's your favourite meal to make at home?

Well for the last few days (since I stopped using . . Did I mention I'd stopped using ;-) I have craved sweet chilli sauce!? I've been ordering doner kebab meat from the local "Take-away" just for something to put the sauce on. I could end up with a raging "sweet chilli sauce" habit.

3. What is your dream vacation?

O boy what a question . . . At the minute, ideally, I could do with a week (maybe two) somewhere hot with a sea breeze . . . clean, beautiful sand and sea. For the most part alone with some good books. Hotel suite leading onto beach. Top nosh. Personal trainer/masseur for an hour or two a day. A couple of "clothes/sandals/jewelry shopping therapy" days thrown in . . . O stop it. That's enough. I'm getting pissed off now ;-)

4. When relaxing in the evening, say on a Friday at home, what beverage would be sitting next to you?

Shit I was happy at that hotel . . . I've right come down now. Anyway, once again, until a few days ago it was Ovaltine . . . I couldn't go a night without it . . . BUT that went hand in hand with the gear. Hamper G in bed = Ovaltine and foil out. No more. So it's a big mug of ~~sweet chilli sauce~~ hot Ribena!?
If I didn't know better I might think I was pregnant. My entire "taste" has changed.

5. Which goal in life have you achieved that gives you the most pleasure?

Well I can't claim to have achieved any goals as I don't remember having ever set any . . . Shit! I just forgot my most recent . . . How could I forget? That was a goal wasn't it? . . . To get clean. That's definitely giving me pleasure. I still can't quite believe it . . . Sorry to go on but the question was very "leading" your honor.

6. Have you ever reluctantly done something you were urged to do by friends/family that you ended up really enjoying (good or bad)

Only the obvious. I'm not sure that I was urged to do it but certainly encouraged, as in . . . Try it! you can't get addicted if you smoke it. I was definitely reluctant having got through 37 years without it but I thought I was "safe" and would not become an addict . . . Little did I know.

7. Have you ever done something that was, for you, very risky,exciting or dangerous?

Not recently no. Many years ago though yes although I didn't see or want to see the danger at the time. Possibly the most danger I put myself in was "running away" from a situation in Spain and hitching alone up through Spain to France. Three times during that escapade I thought I might die . . . but at the time I wasn't afraid. Which is possibly what got me through.

8. Have you ever had any "exotic" or unusual pets?

Only my 27 (?) Roborovski hamsters, who I must clean out tomorrow . . . And re-count.

9. Have you ever had an unusual job?

Hmmmm. Putting flyers under car windscreen wipers for a private detective in Nice in August! The heat was unbearable. The weight of the holdall full of flyers at the beginning of the day was back-breaking. But some of the things you catch ~~people~~ men doing in their cars . . . especially along the sea front was definitely unusual!

10. If you were available and found the right person, would you get married?

Yes I think I would . . . I've never been married and I would have to be so so sure it was right . . . But if I was that sure then yes.

11. Which famous person have you been told you look like?

Again, recently I haven't been told I look like anyone famous . . . When I lived in France I was constantly being told I looked like Jane Birkin (English actress/singer ~~married~~ apparently not married, just together for many years with Serge Gainsborough. More famous in France than England) . . . It could've had a lot to do with speaking French with an English accent although I could see some similarities.

That's Sunday evening gone . . . I will post this and think up some questions to pass on tomorrow. It's half term so Geekster will be at home. He has promised to set the scanner up for me so I can have some fun with old photos . . . Whilst I'm resting. Back to the Dr. again . . . I'm definitely on the mend but would like to see this infection cleared . . . Totally.

Sweet dreams to you all across the globe. Thanks for reading and Goodnight.

So where were we?

2012-02-10T23:22:00.004Z

Ok I'll try to keep this as short as possible. Let me start with a brief description of what appeared to happen then I will follow with an explanation of what really went on. I hope that makes sense.

Roughly ten days ago, after noticing my breathing deteriorate, I realised I had been using an empty inhaler for possibly three or four days. The inhaler is specifically designed to manage the symptoms of emphysema. It's for long term use, unlike the blue Ventolin usually used by asthmatics for immediate effect on chronic symptoms. I sometimes use the Ventolin too if I get breathless.

Ok so no problem I had a new one at the ready and started on that . . . By last Saturday morning things were not improving, I checked my inhaler and discovered I had thrown the new one in the bin and was still using the empty one!! I know, I know, hard to believe but true. It isn't a spray inhaler or a cfc one. It has a block of the effective drug in the bottom and when you twist it, it grinds a small amount of this drug which you then inhale hard and fast . . . There is no taste, only effect.

Stropster came in from work last Saturday, went through the outdoor bin for me and found the new inhaler . . . which I immediately double dosed on to try and get some "lungs" back. By Sunday morning my neck, face and head were swollen. My head was hurting so much I couldn't touch it and everyone except me seemed to think I might need an ambulance. I was extremely confused and began to think I was de-hydrated. I would not listen to anyone. By Tuesday the Dr had called and prescribed strong anti-bios for what she had diagnosed "over the phone" as a chest infection. She thought maybe the head pains were from over compensating with the inhaler. She thought wrong.
Apart from my head hurting to the touch all over there were random stabbing pains across my head and eyes at varying intervals and a dull throbbing at the top of my neck. . . Awful. Frightening.

I was in bed until this morning. I couldn't get up, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think straight and couldn't reason. It didn't feel like my usual "chest infection" as I have specific physiotherapy to do when I get an infection to clear the damaged lung, as it can't clear itself. This didn't seem to be making any difference. My lung wasn't hurting. My trachea was and my head was. Also the anti-bios didn't seem to be "kicking in".

I prayed for the strength to say no to gear and for the first time in twelve years I chose not to use. Last night when I realised this prayer had worked I prayed to be a little better this morning so I wouldn't be sent to hospital and so I could care for the kids. I woke up and didn't think I felt better but within an hour or so I found myself in the kitchen (downstairs for the first time) putting on the washing . . . Then washing up . . . Then changing the bedding. The head pains had gone. I was still very short of breath but I persevered, partly in case I had to go to hospital so things would be in order at home.
The Surgery phoned to cancel my morning appointment due to snow but transferred me to another Dr for 4.10pm. By the time 4pm came I had swept, mopped, vacuumed, cleaned bathroom, toilet etc etc. It's amazing how dirty things can get when I have a week off. I had caught up on at least 5 loads of washing . . . and realised that once again my prayers had been answered. Sorry this was meant to be short.

So off I went to the Dr . . . I explained all of the above to her. A very understanding, non-judgemental middle aged woman. She listened thoroughly to both my story and my lungs, then the trachea area. She checked my throat. Good lord! She almost jumped . . . That's where the infection had got in . . . from my inhaler that had spent four days in the bin!! So far the infection hasn't gone to my lungs, which I suspected, its all in the trachea/primary bronchi area, which is why the physio was not helping. It's also why my head was in screaming pain as the infection tried to spread elsewhere . . . And for every anti-bio I took, I also took two huge great puffs on the offending dirty inhaler. So that's safely back in the bin now and I have a new one.

The Dr was shocked when I said this was me "almost better, well on the mend". . . to the extent that I had just cleaned the house. She couldn't understand how I had got through a week in bed so seriously ill and hadn't let someone call an ambulance. She doesn't know how scared I am of hospitals. Or how scared I am of dying there. She said I'd been "lucky" to fight this and "lucky" that it hadn't gone to my lungs . . . but it still could. She made me promise I would come home, go to bed and rest for at least three more days. I said Yes . . . Once I've got the clean bedding back on all the beds. She laughed. I laughed. I was going home again . . . I could laugh.

So there we have it . . . Clean house! clean bedding! clean me!! Hallelujah I say! I'd be bloody rude not to really wouldn't I?

Soon we will be dancing the Fandango . . . for Sister Bluebell

2012-02-10T14:41:00.000Z

Beloved Sister Bluebell as I looked for a Bob Dylan song to post late on Wednesday night . . . I could not find the one I wanted. I ended up listening to this with tears streaming down my face. There is a story behind it about my escape from Spain to France which I will post soon (I promise).

But that's irrelevant . . . As I listened, wheezed, wept and tried to sing "Soon we will be dancing The Fandango" . . . You messaged me on Face book and wrote those very words . . . You even said afterwards "Whatever that means?" . . . Well this is what it meant.
And yes Sweet Bluebell One day we will dance again. I love you.

No better

2012-02-10T00:54:00.000Z

So just a real quick up-date. Back to the Dr tomorrow. The anti-biotics have made no difference. I'm all out of breath. The good news is I haven't used. You may think, well that's because you're ill . . . Believe me even when I was in hospital with pleurisy and pneumonia I found a way to use . . . So this is something new. I fear it might be too little too late but of course I'm hoping for one last chance . . . This was meant to be the year.

I might as well have a little moan whilst I'm here. My family (Mother and Hubby, Brother and wife) yes the Christian ones who both live within four minutes walking distance have not once offered to feed my kids or bring round something for my kids to eat in a week of me being seriously ill. Now if I was a member of their ~~middle class social club~~ Church, people would be taking it in turns to bring round a casserole, stew etc because . . . here goes . . . They are so fucking stupid they think God only sees how they treat other Christians (or church members) No, this isn't true . . . The truth is in fact worse. It doesn't matter to most of them what God sees . . . It matters what other Church folk see. They are way more important. If they were to deliver a daily meal for my kids no-one at Church would know . . . God would know but Hey let's get this straight, Its not God who's judging them . . . It's the Pastor, The Elders, Those who fucking count! Yet when they do these good deeds within the church, not only does it get noticed, it gets a mention on a Sunday . . . Well, Well Done You, You wonderful, kind, caring, compassionate fuckers you. Yes I'm angry.
So they offer "Can I get you any shopping in?" "Sure, yeah . . . I can't even walk to the kitchen let alone cook, you arseholes" O God help me. And I mean that. Please God help me . . . Please can I just be well enough to care for my kids? I can't afford Take-away every night.

I won't have to because I have a feeling the Dr will be sending me to hospital tomorrow. I don't want to go. I just watched my only Aunty die there of Emphysema in October last year. We ~~have~~ had the same disease. I don't want to go there and not come home. Ok so I'm terrified.

Last week I was moaning about my life, my addiction, being trapped . . . All I had to do was stop.
Now I have stopped. I have no desire to use or score . . . Just to breathe. Would you believe it.
Please God that I might wake tomorrow and be well. Or a little better?

Fading fast . . .

2012-02-08T11:16:00.001Z

It's taken me a week to get to this point . . . I won't be long, I will explain more when I'm better. I hope I get better. I don't think I can afford to wait until a detox becomes available. I have been ill to the point of confusion. Total confusion. Lack of oxygen. The Dr. has been and I am on the mend but that was the scariest ever and I should've been in hospital. That was Sunday. Where are we Wednesday? Shit did I wish for my periods back in my last post/comment? Well I sure got one . . . A year after my last one! I'm not gonna edit or spellcheck this . . . I'm lucky to be here. I honestly had visions of Geekster having to write my last post for me (he'd be the only one who would know my password etc) Stropster is not happy . . . he has had to learn how to use the washing machine, dryer, heating, hot water, cooker . . . How to pack his own lunch. Poor lad . . . He is so cross with me. How dare I be this ill? I can see his point. Fuck off Anon I'm in no mood for you so don't even think of commenting.
This is why I have to stop . . . and this is why I have to stop now . . . Next time could be the last time . . this time almost was. My lungs will take no more. No more. Please God that I can say No.
I have to sleep. I want to catch up on all your Blogs and I will . . . Soon. Thanks for reading. Take good care and appreciate those lungs. I love you.

Ps. Stropster reliably informed me on his lunch break that it isn't a year since my last period . . . That last time I got ill (?October? ) I also had one. Poor lad. Poor fucking Kids. I love them so desperately. Why can't I be right for them.

Fading

2012-01-31T01:56:00.002Z

I've just been inspired by Jeannies's post today to expand on something I was writing about earlier to my Sister, Bluebell, in Australia . . . Ageing, the "decline" in our physical appearance or "Physical Fading" as Cloudia, one of Jeannie's commenters called it.
Being relatively new to it, I had ~~imagined~~ hoped it would be a temporary feeling . . . that as time passed I would, along with fading some more, be more accepting of it . . . Settle into it. Now I'm wondering if that really happens.
When I say I'm new to it, I mean I'm new to getting pissed off about it. I suppose over the last five years, which is roughly how long I've been "fading" so far . . . Whenever it's started to bother me I've swept it away under that carpet, convincing myself that I could soon rewind if I was that bothered . . . I'd only have to . . . Well, lose a bit of weight . . . get my teeth fixed . . . and tone up a bit . . . re-colour my hair . . .buy some clothes that fit me . . . and . . . "Sigh".

Obviously as the years have crept on, the idea of rewinding feels like a lot of work . . . and the chances of it happening, more remote. Now all of a sudden I wonder if it's even possible? . . . and say, to an extent it were possible, do I really want this or is it just empty vanity . . . one day the fading will need to be accepted.
Surely it must be. Is it a process whereby acceptance grows as the fading progresses? It must be.
I realised today that it's depressing me slightly . . . As in, looking good used to make me feel good . . . Or did it? or did I just feel good because I was younger. But say they were connected . . . is that so bad?

It came to light a bit this weekend when LQ (Hamper G's Dad)'s Brother, the one who drives me to prison, popped round with one of their other Brothers who's been in Glasgow/Pakistan for a few years. It's been six years since I saw him. He didn't look any different really but he's 39 . . . I didn't change much between 33 and 39. In fact I've never changed this much in any given 5 years (since I was 16) Sodding menopause. He looked ~~horrified~~ surprised, I didn't even realise why till two days later . . . I've put on two stone, gone from blonde to dark hair with grey roots . . Have a few less teeth . . permanently wear a hoody and tracky bottoms where I used to wear skinny jeans and more flattering jumpers . . . And I dare say I have a load "tiredness/stressness lines". . . Not to mention the whiskers! Shit no wonder he looked "surprised" . . . He did well to not to look fucking shocked.
So all this got me to thinking . . . to try and rewind . . . Is it chasing unattainable, long gone, youth? . . . Would I be one of those women having yearly face lifts if I could afford it in a few years? . . . Am I kidding myself I'll feel better because I felt better back then when I looked better? Am I kidding myself that this re-wind is even a possibility? or that I'm even bothered, really, when it comes to it, most days? . . . does it really matter?
Is it just early days of mourning the twinkling . . . and accepting the "fading".
Maybe the further we walk away from youth, the less we look back. I don't know. Maybe not everyone does look back in this way. I don't know. It's certainly not my youth that I want back . . . I'm quite happy with my age. I just want a bit of "youthfulness" I suppose . . . In my fifties ;-) Is that too much to ask?

I just lit a ciggy and glanced over the page . . . there's a lot of "Maybes" and question marks. Maybe I'm questioning it all too much? there goes two more.
I can't remember if I've made my point . . . and unless I remember what my point was I don't suppose I will know. Maybe I'll leave it there. I think I'm tired. Shit! It's gone one! I need my beauty/youthfulness sleep ;-)

Thinking about it . . . I don't think I had a point . . . Just a load of questions. And now it's nearly two! (Yes it took over half an hour to write two lines!)

Sweet dreams and days to all.

It's 2am again!

2012-01-27T01:53:00.000Z

Okay I've started on my index and a few ideas of how to do this. I don't really want to put too much thought into it . . . just to tell a few stories. Obviously as in any person's life there's a mixture of sadness, pain, joy, tragedy, sex, humour, love and the odd bit of normality. I am neither ashamed nor proud of my past. I didn't plan my life this way . . . It is what it is. Where there is pain, I'm not looking for sympathy and where I've caused pain I'm not pleased with myself, again it's just the way it was and I'm not gonna lie. I will neither exaggerate nor sugar coat, I just want to write about some of the events, places and people in my life so far. I'm not looking to lay blame anywhere nor to shock. I'm not making excuses or trying to justify the way I've sometimes behaved. I will simply tell it as it is. Or most of it. I have realised I will have to leave some bits out to protect the privacy of my family.

Right, enough of the present I need to go find my rake and see if I can get this carpet back on the floor . . . instead of it sitting on six inches of family crap that's been swept under there for too long . . . I wouldn't be at all surprised if there's stuff under there that I know nothing about. Family stuff. My lot is all out, I've never been one for hiding dirt under rugs. Metaphorically or literally . . . Even if it's only me that knows it's there, like that screwed up bobble of foil that I threw behind the dolls' house . . . Eventually I had to get it out. Within days rather than years. Maybe I don't do it because I didn't like seeing it done over the years. Or maybe because I just know there's no point. Because out of sight is not really out of mind . . .

Usually.

Except for Saturday lunch time when I was cooking a full English breakfast for Stropster after work. I hadn't noticed Hamper G had stayed upstairs and was being very quiet . . . Until I called her down for lunch.
"In a minute" she said. This went on until I was putting the plates on the table.
"C'mon Hamper, it's ready. Now!" I shouted . . .
Into the kitchen she came with a bath towel draped over her as if she was playing "ghostees" . . .
Except she wasn't. She made her way over to the kitchen drawer (by looking at the floor I suppose) and from under the towel out came her little hand sneaking a pen (?) back into the drawer. Was it a pen? Had she drawn all over herself? I saw light blue plastic. Light blue plastic . . . . Scissor handles!! NO. No way.
I pulled the towel off her . . . I so didn't want to laugh but I couldn't help myself and neither could Stropster . . . Hamper G just joined in. It was bordering on hysteria. She had chopped her waist length hair off with craft scissors into tufts of roughly ear length!! I say roughly as some tufts were an inch "long" others were three inches "short".
What a mess. Once I'd stopped laughing I felt like crying but not much point in that. Spilt milk and all that.

So it was off to the hairdressers yesterday to see what they could do with it . . . A very short backed kind of angled bob with two wispy longer bits in front of her ears . . . and a bit of a fringe that Hamper had made. I think the hairdresser just left the fringe as it was. I will post a photo tomorrow.

O No. Its half one . . . again. I best hang up my rake for another night.
Sweet dreams across the world.

Alan Hull . . . and goodnight.

2012-01-26T02:02:00.000Z

O No its 2am again! got sidetracked catching up on blogs instead of posting . . . Along the way I discovered Alan Hull had died in 1995 . . . I didn't know. I still have this album on vinyl.
So obviously it was straight to You Tube to find a "tribute" seventeen years later . . . Decisions, decisions.
This was my favourite track at the time of the album . . . So this is it.
I will have to post tomorrow . . . I already missed the alarm this morning, Stropster had a massive panic . . . He only just made it to work on time. I could do without a repeat of that so I'm off to bed.
I read some good posts though . . . Thanks

Happy Birthday to me!

2012-01-22T02:22:00.000Z

Bloody Hell 49!? . . . Where did that come from?. . . Or more to the point how did I get here? That is a question that I'm gonna start to answer very soon. I've decided that alongside the original purpose of this blog - To work towards, begin to make and keep track of some changes in the next year and beyond - I'm also gonna write about the past. I've wanted to do this for a long time now and for various reasons but I'm never sure where to start . . . I don't want to write it in any particular order other than writing about an event, a person or a place that takes my fancy at the time . . . So that's how it will be. I hope that it can make sense that way.
Whenever I'm trying to recall at what point a certain event took place I tend to relate it to who I was with at the time . . . Or if it was after the kids were born, then how old they were. As I said in my profile, until 5 years ago I was always in a relationship. The most significant of these lasted between one and five years, although there has been the odd one night, one week, one month romance that has left an impression.
Okay so it doesn't take a mathematical genius to work out that there have been many "significant" others who are included in the story of my life . . . So with no particular order, various locations and so many "others" . . . I may need to do a kind of index/glossary whatever it's called, if for no other reason than to remind myself of where, who, what, when and how the hell I got here?
Yes I will do that . . . I'm not sure how you set up something on separate page with a link at the top of this page . . . but I will find out soon. Soon, but not now as I'm falling asleep.
I'm gonna make an effort to do as little as possible tomorrow . . . And until then have a deep, undisturbed, sweet and dreamless sleep. Goodnight all.

A lifeline?

2012-01-21T00:03:00.002Z

I have some news which for some bizarre reason I'm quite excited about. I went to see my new "Drugs worker" yesterday. Recently the service has been taken over by a private company . . . this didn't seem to make any difference really. A little "chat" every fortnight as I collect my script for 70ml daily of methadone . . . Yes all good. Thanks. Bye. See you soon . . . Until yesterday.
I've probably seen the new woman four or five times so she knows a little bit about my habit . . . The excuses, the pattern, the difficulties, the triggers etc. . . . and a bit about my wanting to stop . . . The reasons, the motivation, the struggles etc.
"I've been thinking about you" she said. "O . . . Tell me more" I said.
"Have you ever been offered or considered a detox?" She said . . . I said . . . "No. No. No. No can do".

We sat and discussed it, taking all things into consideration. It would mean 10 days in hospital. I would need to reduce my methadone from 70ml to 30 ml before going in and could continue to smoke my bag at night until I go in.
I could opt for either just an opiate detox and come out still on methadone, a total detox coming out clean or after 3 days withdrawing from methadone and gear I could swap over to Suboxone and come out on a low dose of Suboxone. Well I thought it's the only chance I will get to be ill "in peace" so I might as well stop the methadone whilst I'm at it . . . as I don't like it's side effects and I felt much more alert on Suboxone. She's obviously spent some time thinking about my case which is encouraging and thinks it's just what I need.
She was also surprised that in 12 years of addiction, in and out of "treatment", no-one has ever suggested a detox??
As she pointed out it would be hard for me to stop this "evening smoke" at home as that's the time of day when I'm stressed and that is how I "cope". The amount and quality of the gear is such that I'm really getting very little from it but the habit is hard to break.

My first concern was, of course, the kids but providing Hamper G has a place in school by then (we're talking a good 3 or 4 months waiting list) the family could certainly cope with the kids between them. Geekster's Dad could take a few days off work and could have the two younger ones for a few nights and my Sister in law and Brother would be happy to have them for a few nights too. Stropster would be fine to stay at home. She didn't know until yesterday that I had emphysema and was quick to point out that it would only take one bad chest infection and they might be looking after the kids for a lot longer than 10 days . . . another good reason to detox. Surely it's worth a try?

Of course I realise it will be no holiday and fairly uncomfortable. I've rattled, switched to Suboxone, ran out of methadone/gear and been ill so many times in the past with the kids, that doing any of those things without the kids, in a place where I can just be in peace has to be so much easier. Has to be.

So I decided yes . . . let's give it a go. It could be just the thing. Who knows eh? I'm willing to try.
If anyone can suggest a book or two that might be a worth while read during that time . . . all suggestions are welcome. Anyway I hope you'll all come along for the ride . . . I don't expect I'll be allowed my laptop as there's no contact with the "outside" for the first few days . . . but I will keep a hand written journal and type it out later.

So that's my news. I really feel the timing is right as I'll be 49 this Sunday which now only leaves me 12 months to reach some of my goals. Hey, they've even got a gym there so that could be the start of something else that I've wanted to do for a long time.
Most of the time I'm feeling very optimistic about it all . . . well it's only been just over 24 hours . . . but now and then a niggling doubt writhes it's way in to the hopeful picture . . and I see myself running, rattling in my pj's to nearest call box to beg my dealer to come get me. Another worry is my "Sudden Inappropriate Crushes" (of the David Dickinson type . . . cr iiin ge) that I get when I'm withdrawing . . . O dear I'm sure there'd be plenty of scope in there . . . especially with my tendency for "rescuing", yes, I know, even when I'm drowning. No. No. No. That cannot, must not and will not happen.

Ok. I'm not going to edit, apart from the spelling, as it's late and there is another post I want to start. This was just a news flash. I will have plenty of time to go into more details after the assessment. And plenty of time to go from optimistic and hopeful to pessimistic and fearful and back again . . . and again.

I hope you all have a good weekend and thanks for reading. Take good care.

Now that really was lighthearted

2012-01-16T02:14:00.002Z

For various reasons tonight we found ourselves sitting down early, together, with everything done and in the same room. Now this is rare. It's rare even to settle down at the same time particularly on a Sunday night. I'm usually ironing school uniform, running baths, emptying baths, packing lunches and supervising (shouting orders) in general until after nine O'clock. Geekster puts his bath off till after nine, then remembers he has homework. Sometimes Stropster's not home until gone ten then he'll often sit in his room. But tonight was different.

Not only were we sat down together with time to "do something" ie. not on our separate laptops or watching tv . . . but we all agreed we should try out Geekster's "X-factor" karaoke thing, one of his Christmas presents. It works on line through the laptop and you get thousands of songs with it. He set it up through the stereo speakers and he'd had the sense to order an extra microphone so we could duet. We spent a good couple of hours taking it in turns to choose songs, and who would sing them. It was Brilliant. The best few hours we've spent just us four together for a long time.

I "let" them chose most of the tracks . . . I doubted much of "my stuff" would be on the playlist though they did allow me Leona Lewis's (version of Cohen's) Hallelujah . . . Yay! I got away with a Cohen song :-) . . . I'll have a look when I'm alone . . . So it actually was lighthearted. We proper laughed. I think mine and Stropster's best effort was Eminem & Dido's Stan . . . I hadn't heard that for years. I was amazed at Hamper G (4) requesting tracks like "Paradise" (New Cold Play one, I'd never heard it) and "Carry out" that she must've heard in Stropster's room and singing along to them. It seems Geekster is good at rapping . . . being used to talking, and possibly thinking, twice as fast as any "normal" person that would make sense.

So that's all . . . A busy two days catching up on a few days of washing, drying, cleaning, shopping, hamster cleaning and a very special lighthearted Sunday evening. I hope yours was good too.

Ps. The next morning . . . It was Alexandra Burke not Leona Lewis that covered Hallelujah. Of little importance really because we know who wrote it ;-)

A light-hearted interlude ;-)

2012-01-15T00:31:00.001Z

I set out to do this last night (Friday) and spent hours on You Tube, some of the time checking out a load of my favourite artists for something light-hearted . . . Well you can imagine why that would take so long, but most of the time I lost track of my mission and just enjoyed some music. However by about 1 am (?) I'd decided this was the song . . . I'd long given up on light-hearted by then. I chose this video from quite a few of Jaques Brel performing this song because . . . well it kind of suits the song best. But for some reason it wouldn't let me bring this video here. With or without English sub-titles. Or even French sub-titles. No. What? after all that. I know, I couldn't believe it. I gave up . . . But not entirely. I came back to it tonight determined to find some version of this particular performance that would allow me to "embed" it . . . And eventually found one with Arabic sub-titles. I can't imagine why I can bring this one over here but none of the others. Who knows? Who's even still reading this? Eh? I don't even know myself why I've just written all that? but I can't not post it now . . . Just in case it was "meant to be" . . . Again, I can't imagine why but you just never know . . . Maybe it's just what you wanted. Ok I'm falling asleep here. I hope someone enjoys my "not so light-hearted interlude" . . . And I hope you all have a very special Sunday.

Big Chief tear wiper

2012-01-12T22:19:00.002Z

I'm gonna try and post this while the memory is fresh in my mind . . . I should've written it at the time. If it doesn't sound like it felt then I will write it again next time . . . there are going to be many next times.

I covered it to an extent in my replies to comments last night as that's when I was "feeling" it. But I need to go further into it to find out what the hell I'm so scared of.
I didn't feel well all day yesterday, like I was coming down with something. Aching joints, ears whooshing, slightly dizzy . . . not good.

I started to try and get my evening score in at about 3pm ish so I knew it would be here as the guy can be a total mess about. Well mess me about he did. He wouldn't answer my calls but he finally answered a text at 6pm to say . . . "I'll be down soon". . . Soon? What's soon? I asked if I could walk up (2 minutes walk) No reply . . . 7pm I texted again . . . Hello? have you forgotten?

I won't go into every boring text or reply, suffice to say that I was extremely wound up, exasperated and in tears by 8pm. I was fuming. Angry with myself, the gear and him. Amid the tears I started to think . . Hold on . . . This is what you wanted. You want to stop this. This is the help you prayed for . . . Now you can do one night clean. O yeah! . . . Just what I fucking wanted . . . But why not? If you want to get off it you have to start somewhere . . . Yeah but not here. Not now . . . Why? . . . Well because I'm not feeling well for a start and because the seed has been planted. I decided I was using earlier on today and looked forward to it. And I ache all over and I've had a crap day and all this being fucked about and, and, AND . . . . whine, whinge, whine.

Yep any excuse. There was no way I was not using. I was frantic. Texting. Calling. Every single option was covered. People I haven't texted for ages . . . maybe they knew someone who knew someone? Maybe not? O c'mon someone must have something. Absolute madness. As though my life depended on it. My persistence paid off at about half nine and off I ran in my pyjamas, trainers and hoody with tears of joy, relief, anger, hysteria and utter madness rolling down my cheeks.

Tears splashed and hissed on the hot foil as I ran the gear . I wept for my children. Wept because they don't get the "full" me. Wept with guilt. And with joy. Wept with anger at myself for letting that arsehole treat me like this. Wept because it was ~~like~~ nectar. Wept with anger at him for having the cheek to look at me after fucking me about for 7 hours and say "What's up babe? . . . you look like you've been crying?" . . . Anger at myself for being so pathetically afraid of one "night off" . . . at being totally controlled by this . . . The fear of never being free from it . . . The realisation of just how bound I am by this addiction. Gradually the tears dried. The anger went. With it went the fear, the guilt, the dread . . . the joy. All gone. Numb. Happy? No . . . Just numb.

I can't do justice to the emotional turmoil at the moment because big chief tear wiper has been and wiped me numb . . . So I will do it again. I have to do it again. And again. I will do it to find out what it is about the onslaught of emotions that I feel I can't possibly cope with. Why I don't want to feel it all full on. Obviously because the bad stuff is uncomfortable . . . But I'm not only numbing the bad stuff am I?

There's no point me trying to connect with those feelings now. I have to feel them again and catch them full on. Yes it will be uncomfortable . . . but I've noticed that writing it forces me to look at it. To try and put it into simple words means having to de-tangle the mass of emotions, to separate the strands and lay them out one by one . . . the good and the bad. To single out which one/s is/are frightening me so bad that I have to keep running away.

So that was yesterday. I need to find some "fight" from somewhere. What a battle.

Feeling like this

2012-01-11T11:24:00.002Z

Ok. It's officially over now. Even the toffees are gone . . . ~~Stropster's~~ I mean Geekster is back at school. The Christmas tree is in the loft, well almost. Its underneath the hatch waiting for someone to take it up. It could well be there for six months. Now I have to start making some changes. I don't mean this minute but this year, this month, this week might be a good idea. It all seems a bit massive. Of course it would be easier to stay like this for another year . . . But I don't really want to feel like this.

"Like this" means making a huge effort every day to "function". Fighting the urge to use until the evening. Shaking off "The clinging blackness" that surrounds me when I first open my eyes. Forcing myself out of the bed, out of the dark, out of the door . . . Constantly treading water. Getting nowhere. So much effort to keep my head above water. Just above. Sometimes I take in water and panic. Sometimes my legs get so tired I stop treading and let myself to go under. It's dark but it's easy. It's dark but it's quiet. No splashing. No effort. Fading light. Just me and the near darkness. Go away light. Leave me to the dark. But the fading light is still there. Light enough to see. In that light are my children. I can't turn away. They're looking for something. Eyes wide, frightened and lost. Are they looking for me? Ok I'm coming . . . I don't want to but I will . . . I'm exhausted, breathless, floundering, treading with all my strength while they cling to me to keep them afloat. Ok I'm here, I'm back. I'm ready to start again.

No I don't really want to feel like this.

ps. After writing this I went to FB and my neice, Hanneka in Sydney, had posted this. Thanks.

Very little grows on jagged rock. Be ground.
Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up where you are.
You've been stony for too many years. Try something different.......
Surrender! ~ Rumi

Part two for Annie

2012-01-07T19:22:00.000Z

Enjoy.

Roy Harper I love you

2012-01-06T10:38:00.003Z

I woke up with this song in my head. I first saw and fell in love with Roy Harper at Glastonbury in 1979 when it was still a "festival" . . . Or was it Stonehenge? Many of his songs feature on the sound track to my life. Brilliant guitarist, singer and poet.
I read somewhere the other day (tips on blogging or something) not to post music and expect people to share your taste in music . . . Well I certainly don't expect anyone to share my taste in music. That would be a lot to ask :-) I don't even expect everyone to click on tracks and listen, especially eleven minute tracks like the one above . . . and that's just Part 1 of the track. This blog is for me as well as others. If you do listen and enjoy that's a bonus. Have a fine day . . . and Gledwood put that tomato knife away.

C'mon then . . . Smile

2012-01-05T01:42:00.001Z

Bugger, I cant keep my eyes open.
Ok I finally gave up trying to post and turned my attention to the tv where the film Mamma Mia was starting. I've never seen it . . . If I've heard the phrase "It's a real feel good film" once then I've heard it a hundred times! I've been told by many people, including those who know me well and should know better . . . "Oh you'd love it. I know you don't watch films but you would love this". Well I didn't. It didn't make me feel good or happy. . . And knowing that it was possibly making several million people happy at that moment with it's "feel good factor" just highlighted my oddness.
Believe me, I don't try to be different or not fit . . . In fact I spent far too many years trying to fit in. Eventually It became clear that it wasn't happening. Also I asked myself why would I want to force myself to become like so many people who quite frankly got on my nerves in a big way . . Surely I would end up getting on my own nerves and that wouldn't be good for my mental health. So I finally accepted that I wasn't gonna fit in. I would be a loner, a misfit, a weirdo and that was fine by me. Having got to this point I can now look back and laugh, cry and cringe about some of my attempts and mostly massive failures to fit in.
The earliest one I can remember was my first and almost last attempt at a fashion "fit in". I wasn't aware of "fashion" growing up. We wore hand-me-downs from the "church", had no access to any media, wore uniform in school and didn't talk much to anyone else in school because . . . well you know why.
However at the age of eleven I had reason to cut through a department store, noticed a "Miss Selfridge" section and immediately became obsessed by a pair of red dungarees . . . I know, well it was '74. Anyway I "knew" these were what I needed to "fit in" . . . O yes these would solve all my problems. Shit! they might even get me some friends. I didn't know how I would get them . . But I knew I would.
It was not in my nature to want. It wasn't allowed. It had been drummed out of me.We could pray . . . and if it was God's will, then it would happen. O C'mon God, this has to be your will. I don't ever ask for anything. Ever. And you O lord of all people know how much I need these in my life . . . Don't you?
It was during the summer hols and I was at work with my Dad for the day. I'd cleared it with God, I just needed the money now. I mentioned them to Dad a few hundred times. He must've known they were special because I'd never asked for clothes before. Ever. He disappeared on "a delivery" in the afternoon. Thankyou God. I knew he had gone to buy them, I just couldn't understand why later that day at home he didn't have them with him. O well so great was my faith I didn't doubt it . . . I would wait. And sure enough later that evening a lady from our ~~group of nutters that gathered at our house~~ church walked down the drive with a "Miss Selfridges" bag . . . Maybe she'd picked them up? No. My Dad had picked them up and taken them to her to be "embellished". I pulled them out of the bag, falling upstairs to change into them, on they went, they felt great, fitted perfectly . . . I ran into the only room with a mirror to indulge in a rare, enjoyable but very short-lived moment of "vanity". Hold on . . . I don't recall a big yellow "smiley face" sewn on the front bib. O well smiley faces were "cool" at the time. It said "Smile" above the face and . . . O No . . . even though the words below the face were backwards in the reflection I could make them out all too well. "Jesus loves you". . . O God. Well what could I say? . . . I had prayed for them. I couldn't deny the fact he loved me. I just didn't want everyone else knowing. It appeared I wanted the whole world to know. Freak. I was not smiling. These dungarees were the answer to my prayers . . . and were supposed to make me "fit in".
This was maybe the first and last time that I prayed for "wordly goods" ;-) Lesson learnt. Unfortunately it wasn't the last time that I tried and failed big time to fit in.

For Gledwood (just a quickie;-)

2012-01-03T12:37:00.000Z

Just a quickie . . . For Gledwood (and anyone else who is, might be, thinks they might be or has been diagnosed bi-polar).
I did post it in your comment box Gledwood but I'm not sure you will go back there and I hoped you would find this interesting . . . Maybe you've already seen it. Take Care.

A Lion in Winter

2012-01-03T12:27:00.000Z

A lesser known Bee Gee's song . . . I have "roared" along to this many a times in my drinking days. No idea why, but there was something I connected with about being a "Lion in Winter" . . . I'm not even sure what it means. I didn't care. It was a good song to belt out. I have a story about it . . . A new year's story too but I will have to come back later with it as there are hungry lion cubs to feed . . . Catch yer later

How Strange . . .

2012-01-02T02:00:00.001Z

I was on to music, on You Tube, drifting back and forth through the years . . . et la nostalgie. Torn between Georges Moustaki's Solitude or Liberte, when I noticed his song "La meteque" that I'd totally forgotten about (until tonight). La meteque is a (sometimes derogatory) term used to refer to an immigrant in French. There was another version below in another language . . . El extranjero . . . As I listened to that and stared at the title I soon realised it meant The stranger . . . again. Of course, then it made sense . .. immigrant, foreigner, stranger . . . I'd just never thought of the song La meteque meaning The stranger. The decision was made. It's a strange word is stranger.

Happy New Year Stranger

2012-01-01T02:16:00.001Z

A few years back I would've thought spending new year's eve alone, sober and quiet very strange . . . weird, maybe even sad? Not so this year, it's been lovely. Stropster was allowed the Christmas room, after I'd removed the tree and breakable decorations, to have a "gathering" of a few friends, music, beer, PS3, Karaoke etc. I can't complain, they're a surprisingly sensible bunch really. The girls took over with Hamper G who was excited at the idea of a party. She'd put some glitter gel on her cheeks and a butterfly necklace that she's never worn before. Even Geekster was allowed to join in. Hamper G almost made it to midnight . . She came upstairs to me for a cuddle at 11.45, I persuaded her into her pj's and before she knew it was fast asleep.
They'll probably carry on till 3 or 4 am. There are a few quilts and blankets down there so I expect to find my living room littered with body shaped quilts tomorrow lunch time . . . Or tea time. I wont bother opening the door until they do. I "noted" on my last trip downstairs for my Ovaltine that the girls had left . . . So no worries there. I'm not sure how I've "produced" such sensible kids . . . I know it's early days . . . But I was already well off the rails at 16 . . and at 12. Who knows. Not I that's for sure.

I must say, apart from the midnight firework display from London which was spectacular, there was a load of crap on tv . . . No matter how many channels. At some point this evening I looked up to see Alan Carr partying with Gok Wan, JLS, Olly Murs (?) . . . Jonathon Ross was there flicking his hair around, drink in one hand, laughing hard. I wouldn't want to be there. Twenty years ago maybe? No, not even then really. I've never been impressed by celebrities or their life style. When I lived in Nice I was well aware of how easy it would be to latch onto some "yacht" and the lifestyle that went with it . . . But I was never tempted. I just knew I wouldn't fit in and the people would get on my nerves. I don't think I've ever fitted in anywhere really. I don't see that as a negative . . . Just a fact. That's possibly why I felt at my most comfortable living abroad as a foreigner. Where I wasn't expected to fit in. I feel like a foreigner here. L'etrangere - The stranger. A stranger . . . I like that word and it's connotations. The Stranger song . . . Cohen of course. Well it's as good a way as any to start a new year . . .

It is you my love, you who are the stranger.

Is it over?

2011-12-31T10:48:00.000Z

You know Chritsmas is over when this is the only thing left in the Quality Street tin.

Whoa! Hold on a minute . . . What's the rush?

2011-12-30T11:00:00.000Z

Now then, whats all the rush to get Christmas over and done with, tidied up, cleaned away, put back in the attic till next year? Maybe it's just me . . . and Hamper G . . . She keeps saying it is still Christmas isn't it Mum? Yes of course it is. Having spent a month preparing, choosing, buying, decorating and building up to it . . I'm in no rush to see the back of it. With Geekster off school and Stropster off work till Tuesday I suppose it won't feel "Back to normal" until then. The neighbours have taken their decorations down, the pub on the corner has, Sainsburys have . . . Isn't it supposed to be 12 days? Or is it 12 hours now.? Well I'm not joining in . . I'm still switching on all my flashing/snowing/chasing lights as soon as it gets dark . . . I will keep this thing going on my own if I have to. And I may have to. Every blogger I read seems to be glad, relieved or thankful its all over. I don't get it. I've not even started on my chocolate reindeer yet . . . C'mon, I can't be the only one . . . Can I?
Ooo Ya bugger . . Geekster has some left some "freeview" channel on that seems to have an hour long advert every two (?) hours for a heap of Country music CDs. Zestify, that's it . . . The Golden age of Country. Boy there are some rhinestones and hairdo's there. From Jim Reeves to Marty Robbins . . . Porter Wagoner, Sonny James. Ooo Yi Yi.
Ok I suppose I should get on with something. I'm making the most of not having to get up at 7am to do "packed lunches" and coax the lads out of bed to work and school . . . No alarm. Bliss. I'm in no rush to get back to normal . . . Maybe cus I wasn't there in the first place :-) Have a jolly good day folks . . . See ya later.

Sorted!

2011-12-27T22:15:00.006Z

Sorted! I made the effort to go to Bro's house, laugh in the right places, admire photos on phone (that I couldn't even see) of his mother-in-law's latest Grandchild, Oooh and ahh in all the right places, thank her muchly for the eau de toilette "Heaven scent" Geddit? O dear. I shouldn't take the piss . . . but sometimes I can't help myself. I also couldn't help myself noticing on my way to bro's house that "The man's" car was back. Despite my text saying "Please text me the minute you get back" . . . Nothing. So as soon as I got in Bros' house I text him to say I had noticed the car was back? . . . O yeah (Babe) pop round !?! (I forgot you had been waiting 48hrs - Soz Babe) Well yes I can see how its easy to forget these things when you're concentrating on running a beetle the size of a £2 coin up and down a foot long sheet of foil. But it did make things somewhat less painful knowing a cure was literally "just round the corner". Amazing how quickly I/any addict recover/s when the end of suffering is in sight. O yes, suddenly very animated and sociable aren't we? Within half an hour of leaving Bro's house, the idea of two hours in a hot kitchen, doing a roast to beat all roasts seemed like the perfect challenge :-) . . . And if I say so myself it was mighty fine. Possibly the best gravy I have ever made. Delishioso. Rinsed down with a few glasses of merlot . . . A couple of Baileys on ice to chase a few Lindt chocs . . . Now a few lines. And a few more chocs Per fect tion. I'm easily pleased really. Totally satisfied. Seems like a good place to bid you all goodnight . . . and may your dreams be sweet. There's bugger all on Telly . . . A good time for a tune . . . I'll pop back if decide on one.

Sorry Babe?!?!

2011-12-27T12:53:00.001Z

Well so much for a night off. It wasn't intentional, my Christmas stash ran out a little before predicted so I text "the man" yesterday at 5 ish giving myself plenty of time . . . Sorry "babe" I'm away till tomorrow night . . . . WHAAT??? First of all don't "BABE" me at the best of times. Even more so if you're about to let me down!! Secondly you aint sorry or you woulda let me know you were going so I could sort things before you went. I was not happy . . . I'm still not. I did try to make a good thing of it, to see it as a chance to do one night clean in the hope that more might follow . . . Fuck that. I feel CRAP. Worse thing is I have to go to my Bro's house at 2pm with the kids to see Sister-in-law's MUM?? Now why would I want to do that? To be given a pencil for Christmas? with some scripture stamped on it? Come on!? Pu-lease. I am SO NOT in the mood for that. I think it best if I don't go really. But I cant NOT go. O why has this happened?. Today of all the bastards. You see its not all plain sailing. Much as I like to think it is. ITS NOT. Just one hiccup is all it takes. Fucking Tightrope walking. C'mon Phone. Even the man from outta town who texts every day to say he's here for an hour . . . aint text today!! This is unreal. I know its sort of my own fault for doing extra smokes over Christmas or it would of lasted till tomorrow, but it IS Christmas and it was my only pressy to myself. It's not like I was out my face ignoring the kids or ote . . just a little mid-afternoon chill to help me put up with everyone! . . . and be a good hostess. Not only have I got to do my Brothers house "thing" I have to cook the full Christmas dinner when I get back as the last two days have been "open house buffet" . . . Two hours in a hot kitchen. I really am FUCKED. And I cant see a way round this at all. That's because there isn't one. O well. I will come back when I have something to say. Bollox.Wanker.

And Relax . . .

2011-12-25T23:53:00.000Z

Almost too tired to write. Had a good Chritsmas eve and an even better Christmas day. All is calm. Chocolates, Baileys and a tasty smoke . . . .

Hope you're all having a good time in some way. I'm off to make the most of an hour in peace if I can keep my eyes open. Good night and sweet dreams.

YAY! The Real Deal!

2011-12-23T08:55:00.000Z

Ps. Just left Blog . . Checked Facebook to see if I had any messages . . . And found this posted by our next door neighbour . . . The "Real Santa" Ok, I'm gone, real gone . . .

Two more sleeps!

2011-12-23T08:45:00.000Z

Ok I've literally got five minutes . . . Don't have to leave the house again, everything is in . . . Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. Kids all woke up shouting "Two more sleeps" including Stropster. Singing, shouting, dancing . . . Anyone would think it was Christmas. This is not the "real" Santa who came to the house. I'm still waiting for those photos . . .

Ice skating with a penguin. What a fine idea they are. I reckon even I could skate with a penguin. Then without a penguin . . . Ahhhh

Geekster is off school from today so he gonna post some photos of the tree and lights for me when I've got them all working . . . They can be a real pain those lights. Ok this adding photos as I go along is working better (thanks Jeannie) . . . I've not tried the "code move" yet Furtheron, as I'm in a hurry . . . I need to do about three days cleaning in one day. Pity Gledwood doesn't live closer, I could hijack him for the day and give him something to keep him busy! He would love cleaning out the 27 hammies. Sorry not to do links with all this name dropping, yes you guessed . . . I'm in a hurry. Ok I must start somewhere. Hopefully back later with very little left to do. Bro popped in last night so I nagged him some more about the "You Tube" clip. Looks like it will be New year. He has "it" on CD from some recording somewhere but its 90 mins long!.(He calls that the full on "Angels & Trumpets" version) Having to condense it somewhat will take time, but he has promised :-) Right I'm going. Have a good day people. Catch ya later.

Three more Sleeps!!!

2011-12-22T09:44:00.000Z

Ok . . . I give up trying to put these photos where I want them. I used to do Desk Top Publishing for a printing company (17 yrs ago) on an Apple mac (the first one in town!) and you just pick the damn photo up and drag it where you want it . . Not here you don't!

Anyway not gonna be got down by that :-) Here's the first few of Criggy pics . . I thought Barbara needed a laugh so here's my 6ft 5" brother in his dog's Santa outfit! Geekster wearing my "creation from a cracker" hat that I made after a glass of wine. I used to need 2 bottles to feel it. . . . One glass now. And of course Bernie in his outfit :-) He's a lovely dog. I wasn't allowed to post the dinner picture with Stropster on . . "I'm not having my face on your blog!!" Ok well he is 16 so I wont put that up.

I'm not gonna edit or anything as I've heaps to get on with. I just popped by to catch up on the usual folk.

If you saw my brother 7 years ago . . well you just wouldn't believe it was the same man. There is hope. He was as bad a junkie as any I've known. Homeless most of the time. Mornings spent nicking stuff to make money to score etc etc. The usual. Often spending hours "asleep" in my bathroom with a needle hanging out his arm . . . Several prison sentences . . The last one of which he is eternally grateful for. He is actually eternally grateful to God . . . I've asked him to put his testimony on You Tube for those who would like to hear it. For others who think its just God replacing Gear . . . well that's ok too. . . You don't have to watch it :-) Me (being me) can see it from both sides. I'm good like that. Ok I have to "shift it". I hate to post this in such a mess. No I really do . . It annoys me so bad that I cant arrange it how I want. Any tips on moving photos anyone? Why do they "snap" back to where they came from? I'm just gonna have to "get over it" and post it. I've 27 (?) hamsters to clean out, drug worker to see, more shopping in town to finish, the kitchen to clean and when I say clean I mean Clean! and my Chritsmas stash to resist! I didn't want to be texting "the man" every day over Crig and running out to meet him so I got some in. Now I have to stick to my "one a day". Hmmmmmm. Easily said. I can't afford to run out early so will have to "sort of" stick to it. Good job I'm a sensible user eh? Do those two words even look right together? No I thought not. O well I am. I am also putting off getting up and getting on . . . Here goes. Huge Christmas love to you all . . . x x x

Good food

2011-12-18T02:40:00.002Z

Geekster and Hamper G on the trampoline with a bag of soapy water. This went on for two hours then they came in, got dressed and ten minutes later . . . Look where I found them!

I can't believe this is only four months ago . . . Our camping holiday in Wales with my Brother (blue top) and his wife (red jumper). No that's not their names. Not exactly seasonal I know but as soon as I get my hands on Geekster and his camera I will have some Criggy photos to post. I keep saying I will put some up so here we are. If you were to stand facing the chair where the guitar is and look left . . . this is the view. I can't wait to get back there. One way of getting to the nearest town with beach is by mini steam train as below and ferry (!) above. . . Simple living. Gourmet barbeques, delicious. We put in an order with the local butcher in the morning then pick up various flavours of local lamb kebabs for the barbeque on the way back to base in the evening.

Ha Bloody Har :-). . . Do I look like I'm laughing? . . . Thought not. And if you think you're getting me in that wet suit you can think again!

This is our favourite coffee shop on holiday. Not sure why Hamper G needs two chairs or why Geekster turns into a weirdo when the camera is on him? . . . Strange kids :-/ Those Paninis and Cappuchinos are the best ever. We are slowly working our way through the menu. Their home-made cake selection has to be seen. Has to be tasted of course too. They have heaps of games there for kids to play and several laptops. When it's raining (quite often in Wales) you could just sit there all day eating . . . No wonder I put on weight there. Even with all the walking and running about on the beach. O happy hols.

This is a bit all over the place. The photos will not just stay where I put them. I must be doing something wrong . . . but I've no idea what?

I've got a day off tomorrow. Well when I say a day off I mean Hamper G is going with Geekster and his Dad ice skating. They are taking her to see Santa so I'm on my own but I still have loads to do . . . It could wait till Monday I suppose. O yeah we've got Christmas dinner at my Brother's house tomorrow evening as we don't eat with them on Christmas day. He's a good cook, taught by me, so that's something to look forward to . . . Not cooking yet guaranteed a perfect dinner . . .mmmm. I am a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to cooking. Eating out in Britain is often a disappointment. Or should I say it used to be. (I'm not saying it's improved . . . I've just not been out for yonks)

Praying for a peaceful day for everyone tomorrow. I've just noticed it's past 2am. Ok I'll leave the photos where they are otherwise it will be 3am and I'll be no better off. I can see me having a lazy day tomorrow . . . well I do deserve one really. It's a rarity. Good night and sweet dreams to you good folk . . . and you bad'uns ;-)

Ding-a-ling-a-ling . . . Santa's here!

2011-12-15T23:55:00.000Z

Another busy day. Finished putting decorations up in the "Christmas room". I need Geekster to charge his phone (to use the camera) then I'll take a photo and post it here.
Hamper G was almost asleep tonight when Santa came in his sleigh. The reindeers were a white van. I usually know when he is coming and we wait up for him but I'd forgotten this year . . . I just heard the bells ringing and asked Hamper G to check out of the window. She was beside herself with excitement . . . Hoody straight on over PJ's, boots on and out the door . . . eyes out-shining the Christmas lights. Sitting in the sleigh next to Santa looking up at him so seriously. Luckily Geekster's best friend (our neighbour) had his phone charged and took some photos. One day I'll get a camera or phone with camera so I don't need to rely on others.

Prison visiting tomorrow . . . That will be exhausting but it's a must. LQ's brother is taking us which makes it all a lot easier and more enjoyable. I'll still be glad to get home though as I'm never relaxed in those places until it's time to leave.

I've given myself permission to accept me as I am until the new year . . . Any effort to change is being put on hold until then. Should any changes occur without effort that's a bonus! Apart from weight gain of course which is almost guaranteed during two weeks of sheer piggery. Peer shiggery.

Oooops was asleep there with finger on the s. Good night. Sweet dreams

Amazing Amazon

2011-12-15T09:52:00.002Z

Nothing of note happened yesterday. Paid money into the bank . . . Spent it on-line. More presents. None of which are guaranteed to be here by Christmas but there's not much I can do about that.
After completing an order last night I was offered a "free" calendar (I should have known better) . . . All I had to do was download a photo for each month. Spent a couple of hours choosing, editing, cropping and rotating various photos. Trying to create "month relevant" photos . . . Highlighting special dates. Choosing borders etc. Yes that looks good . . . Cheapest postage £3.78! Well I couldn't not have it now could I? No.
I fought to resist all the other products they suddenly had available with photos of my children on them! Cheeky fuckers.
Ordered a book of knitting patterns for dogs! for Sister-in-law (loves knitting and loves her dog) And knitting patterns for cakes for Mother as she can't bake, loves knitting and they are less fattening that way!
O Amazon . . How did I live without you? . . . The possibilities are endless but the bank account isn't so I better stop it . . . Now!!
Off to the bank again! back later. Hope you're all feeling Festive ;-)

No news is good news

2011-12-14T09:08:00.000Z

This is probably the only free ten minutes I will get today . . . I'm not really awake enough to think of anything to write. I have so much to do today . . . Finish Criggy room, off to town to buy hooks to put rope light up and another extension lead . . . more lights. More ordering on-line. Juggling funds all over the place to try and cover all this extravagance. If they all get everything they asked for it will be a minor miracle. I'm gonna post this and get on. Something worth writing about should happen today . . . ? Snow?
What a boring post. Yawn. Must be methadone time . . .

Happy Birthday Emma

2011-12-10T23:49:00.003Z

Thirty Three years ago in a very Welsh hospital in North Wales I walked the corridors ten days overdue from my expected delivery date. I would not give birth. There must be a way out. I knew deep down there was only one way out and I couldn't face that. I would have to give birth. The next morning I was going to be induced. I went back to my bed at 9pm. If I was lucky I might die in the night. Please God.

I was woken at 6am and taken through all the necessary (in 1978) proceedures . . enema, shave, drip, pessaries, waters broken. I didn't say a word. I had nothing to say. The staff spoke Welsh. I didn't understand a word and couldn't care less. They offered me some gas and air. I had no idea why . . . I wasn't complaining. I didn't want it, I didn't like the mask. I lay on my side for hours . . . 18 hours. I wouldn't give birth. I was exhausted drifting in and out of sleep. Someone heard me groaning and asked me if I was pushing . . . I was. I didn't know I was. I just felt some pressure that needed moving. Twenty minutes later at a quarter past midnight they told me I had a beautiful daughter. 8lbs 14oz. I felt nothing. I said nothing.

Four days I lived with her on that ward. I watched happy fathers coming to visit their wives and babies. Happy siblings and Grandparents. My Dad came with sad blue eyes. Too sad to look at. Despite having got all the baby stuff ready early in the pregnancy, he thought it best that I give her up for adoption. Ok Dad. I'd hurt him enough already. He told me that God said this baby would make some couple very happy. Ok God. I'd hurt him enough already too.

One evening as I bottle fed her she opened her eyes and looked straight into mine. Deep dark blue understanding eyes. I felt something and looked away. They gave me some pills to stop the milk. They didn't work. It felt like I had two bricks stuck to my chest.

I took her to the nursery to change her nappy and she was covered in oily black/green stuff from the waist down.(meconium-totally normal when baby first empties bowels) I was scared. I thought I had done something wrong. My head was fucked. I held her under the tap!! Like you would a doll. I couldn't see how else to get this stuff off? She didn't cry I think she knew she was dealing with an amateur. Not for much longer. I can still smell the soap I used on her. My own soap. Lemon zest. No-one told me not to. I've never used it again.

Early one morning my Dad came to the ward. It wasn't visiting time. I saw a man behind him with a carrycot go into a side room. Ok . . . I got dressed and walked out to the car. It was freezing cold. Johnny Mathis was singing "When a child is born" on the car radio . . . I said nothing. I felt nothing. It was freezing cold. I was frozen cold.

I want, I don't want.

2011-12-10T11:11:00.006Z

Thats two more days with no progress. So annoying. Too many interruptions. I like to get "on one" and work solid for 9 or 10 hours but that aint happening. There was no prison visit as LQ hadn't booked one . . . New prison, new rules . . . the inmate books the visit at this one. So now he's booked for next Friday. His brother had taken the day off work to go so he came over any way with kids so cousins could play . . . another day with nothing done.

I spent hours trying to find me some clothes and boots on line last night . . . Nothing?

That's right.

Nothing. Am I too fussy? Yes. I know exactly what I want. I want these clog boots but I want another inch on the heel.

I found a pair with a higher heel but they are not proper wooden heels and I don't like the staples . . . I prefer studs. I also prefer suede. I like the ties round the suede pair too . . .
Decisions, decisions. I could have studs added to the wooden pair.

I found a hooded top in the exact shape (flared to hide "that" area) I want but I want it in white (or black) soft "Angora-mix" wool. Not pink cotton. I found the jeans but I want them in a size 10 . . . and If I can't get in a ten I don't want them! If I can't get in a ten I don't want any jeans. I will spend Christmas in my pyjamas and slippers eating chocolate, putting on more weight and getting more depressed.

Ok so I've almost wasted another half a day . . . Stropster will be back from work at lunchtime for a "Full English breakfast" and before I know it, it will be getting dark . . .

I have got the tree down from the attic. When I say "I" have got the tree down I mean Geekster has. I stood on the top "shelf " of the step ladder and went to pull myself up into the loft (as I've done every other year) to find, to my utter horror, that I could no longer pull myself up! Well we know why that is . . . I'm proper fed up with myself. And looking at this picture of size 10 jeans plus super flat tummy is doing nothing to help (maybe they're a size 8) :-)

Ok. Im gonna get off my fat arse and get on with the Christmas room. Possibly eight/nine sets of lights to get working Why are they always ok when you pack them away but not when you get them out again?

I love those fairy lights. I put them every where.

I will take a photo when I've finished the room.

I have to finish all on-line shopping by Monday too.

Right. One thing at a time. "Irreducible minimum" I can walk away at any time. Can I though? Realistically?

Alexandra Burke has just come on tv singing Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. Beautiful song. Now Elton John with "Step into Christmas". Ok let's step into Christmas. See you all later. Enjoy!

Just a quickie . . .

2011-12-08T10:10:00.000Z

I'm panicking. I got ahead of myself a couple of weeks ago and sorted all Hamper G's shopping then I relaxed. It felt like I had loads of time to do the rest. Typical. Now I've got heaps to do and not enough time to do it. It doesn't matter how early I start, I always end up in a last minute panic. So I have to get on. I've moved my bed from the living room back upstairs so I can have a "normal" living room for Christmas visitors. I dragged a super king size mattress up the stairs yesterday. I know. I don't know how either but I did. Sheer determination . . . No I won't ask my brother. I do not need a man to do this. I'm not stubborn. Now I have to Christmasify the living room . . . Today.
I have to see my drugs worker at 2pm. Also I must attend a back to work "waste of time cus my daughter is not at school yet!" interview at 1pm. Prison visit all day tomorrow. I need to just get on. I'm hoping for a bit of full moon mania. I've done my "things to do" and "things to buy" lists and sat staring at them both . . .
Some days I feel so capable and on top of everything. Other days it all feels very overwhelming, almost impossible. Like today. I haven't got time to waste a day sitting paralyzed in the headlights. I need to move it. Now. Someone give me a cyber kick up the arse. I'm waiting . . .

I could have been someone . . . and so could anyone!

2011-12-02T12:07:00.001Z

Well that didn't take long. I made it my task today to find out how to do one of those links where you just click on a word to go to the site . . . I know, hardly a stretch is it? I must set my sights a bit higher.
Anyway what better link could I do than this one?

On replying to a comment from Jeannie on the previous post I mentioned that many, many moons ago I used to play bodhran and sing in a folk band called "No strings attached". We played mostly pubs, some barn dances and even made the local radio station! I was often told that I looked serious (see terrified). . . I had zilch self-confidence, even though I was pretty damn good on the bodhran, and was painfully shy. I know its hard to imagine given my record since then but I was 17 and hadn't yet discovered alcohol. Spliff, mushrooms and acid yes . . . alchohol No. No wonder I was terrified. Paranoid more like. Once I had discovered alcohol I found plenty of confidence and a much stronger singing voice ;-)

Since re-discovering the world out there via my laptop I have looked up the former members of the band. The "Main man" of the band was Chris Haigh who wrote some of the music, lyrics, played several instruments (mainly fiddle), sang, entertained, directed us, drove us around in moggy minor van (!) and was obviously destined to go on to greater things . . . Indeed he has. I wanted to post some of his music here but there is just loads to choose from. I have problems with decisions, among other things, which is why I didn't get as far as Mr Cohen last night. Ok I chose this as he singing too. He makes that fiddle look so damned easy . . . Bless you Chris. Amen indeed!

He wrote a great take on "Whiskey in the jar" called "Nein Danke Atomkraft". The chorus where it usually goes . . . "Whack for your Daddio . . ." (or similar) was . . . "Nein Danke Atomkraft, No more you must be daft, Use Guiness power instead!" The rest of the group had discovered alcohol. I'm such a freak.

The title of this post is my favourite line of the Pogues "Fairy tale of New York". So keen am I on this line, that one night after I was well acquainted with alcohol my Brother and I spent a whole evening singing it (yes just the one line.) going from bar to bar . . . I know you had to be there . . . or maybe NOT!

A tad melancholic

2011-12-01T23:30:00.009Z

After reading Furtheron's comment on my previous post this afternoon I checked out his blog (still don't know how to have someone's name link to their blog?) where I was reminded of a few musicians I used to love . I still do, I just dont often put music on like I used to. I will one day. Anyway this led me to Bert Jansch and one of my favorite songs of his . . . A tad melancholic but beautiful. For all those troubled young lives.

Bert Jansch led me to Pentangle which, of course, led to Sandy Denny. I couldn't find one of her singing my favourite song of hers "A stranger to himself". But this is also beautiful . . . Maybe a tad melancholic? Sandy Denny, Melanie and many others wrote the lyrics and music to these songs as well as singing and playing them like they meant something to them . . . which of course they did because they'd written them from experience.

All this talk of melan-choly made me think Melanie and I did find my favourite song of hers. I could go on and on with this . . . but I wont. Though if melancholy be the theme it would be awfully rude not to include the great Mr. Cohen wouldn't it? If I manage to choose one from so so many favourites before I fall asleep I will post it. If, by the remotest chance, any one reading this does happen to listen to and enjoy all three, maybe four tracks. Or even already know and love them. I would love to know. Thanks.

ps. just noticed grammar errors from 2 am - melancholic

The chicken or the egg?

2011-12-01T16:18:00.004Z

The chicken or the egg being . . . Menopause or celibacy? No wonder only 3 of my "followers" are men.
So I ask myself, After the birth of Hamper G at 44 when I was thoroughly exhausted, recovering from a Caesarean, pleurisy, pneumonia and still trying to maintain habit + methadone. I lost my libido (surprise, surprise!). I didn't make any effort to get it back. It didn't bother me in the least. After 32 years of being constantly sexually active I was quite glad of a break. So that's where the celibacy started . . . 2 years later (ish) periods started to be irregular and last January was my first month of "hot flushes". Gradual weight gain of 2 stone (!) over 18 months. Second month of hot flushes at the minute. The menopause has definitely kicked in. Was it due to lack of sex?
Is it a case of "use it or lose it"? As in, after 2 years of not "using it" did my body/brain think ok there's no need to carry on this reproductive milarky any more. Of course age has much to do with it. I'm not suggesting if someone is celibate at 20 they will hit the menopause. Did the on-set of the menopause (un-known to me at the time) cause the drop in libido etc. Or did the lack of sex/libido (at my age, due to illness etc. ) kick start the menopause? I suppose it matters not really. I just wondered. Whichever way, I don't like this menopause shit . . I don't suppose anybody does. Apart from no more periods. It's a high price to pay though. I hate the shape I have become . . . slow metabolism I'm informed. I'm not eating any more than I did or moving any less. No blood test results yet so don't know if it's the cause of hair loss but I suspect it is. It's my brain telling my body I don't need to be attractive anymore . . . which would make sense. You dont need that long thick hair, or a waist and some more whiskers on your chin wont hurt! How cruel is that? Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me there are women enjoying out there at 50+ enjoying good sex lifes (I don't want details :-) with ~~youthful~~ ok, shapely bodies (apart from Madonna - I mean average women). Whenever I say I'm gonna work out, lose weight and get my shape back - I get told it wont happen "It's your age". Is this true?. I'm not bothered if I never have sex again - but I would like to look like it could happen if I wanted it to ;-)
Maybe none of this should matter. Maybe it wont when I've got used to it. Maybe it's just the transition. Early days. The plus side is both times I've had a month of hot flushes it has been winter. Running out into the freezing cold morning, throwing off my dressing gown has been heaven. Big wow.

Ps. Who spies on these blogs? . . . Just as I'm editing now, an advert comes up at the side for a wrinkle cream that "made a 53 yr old woman look 30!!" . . . Of course it did. I might have lost libido, waist, hair and teeth . . . But I've still got most of my marbles.

Just for this morning . . .

2011-11-27T11:35:00.003Z

I woke up 9am Yay lie in!!, with this song in my head and have sung it at top volume ever since.
Much to Stropsters annoyance, Hamper G's amusement and Geekster's indifference. Really I'm sure if I asked him what I'd been singing all morning he would say "I didn't know you had been singing" :-)

Beautiful song, beautiful man (Cat Stevens), beautiful day.

Back later. 27(? must count them today) Hamsters to clean out amongst other things. Annette of "Journey of recovery . . . Search for serenity" had me checking my skirting boards ( US.baseboards, I'm learning a whole new language here) this morning . . . They could do with a wipe shall we say. I always do my Spring clean in December so the house is pristine for Criggy . . . I'm getting so damned excited.

Did almost all of Hamper G's shopping on line yesterday. It's my first year on-line . . . how easy was that? No queueing or searching round endless shops to find they have all sold out of Penguins of Madagascar for the Innotab (kids I-pad) Hamper's main pressie. Even on-line I struggled. It was gone. Everywhere. Yes even Amazon. I didn't want to pay double on E-bay. Geekster came to the rescue, as he does with all things involving cyberness . . . and went through Google Earth to find it!! He found one copy. Yay!! Bless the Geekster, Bless em all, Bless you all.

Gee Thanks!!

2011-11-24T23:47:00.003Z

Ok I'm gonna join in with this Thanksgiving.
Firstly I'm thankful for my new washer woman "job" Ten loads of washing (per week) for a Gypsy family £40! Every quid helps this time of the year.
I'm never sure with all this PC crap if they prefer to be called Gypsy or traveller, but I like the word Gypsy. Traveller to me means more "new age" type, converted ambulances, buses, dreads and dreamcatchers. These are traditional Gypsies in caravans. More gold, glass, chrome and cash :-)
I'm thankful for the NHS. To be able to go in and get my flu jab today-free. Pick up my methadone script today-free. Dental X-rays and impressions-free. Blood tests this week-free. Very thankful.
Thankful for my house and garden, provided by the council. For interest free loans given by the DSS, that can be paid back over the year. I have one every November and just see it as my way of saving £17 a week all year towards Christmas. The kids are always guaranteed a good Christmas. I love it when they are young enough to still believe in Santa Claus. Only one believer left! Its so magical for them.
Thankful for my children. Ok not every minute of every day but mostly. They keep me focused, on the whole.
Really thankful that Stropster went straight into work/aprenticeship mechanic this September when he left school and even more so that he enjoys it.
I suppose I've got quite a bit to be thankful for. I did a lucky dip on the lottery yesterday for the third time in my life. I have checked neither the winning numbers nor my "lucky" numbers. I might have a lot more to be thankful for if I do. Though I seriously doubt it. I might not even check.
Thankful that I don't really give a damn.
I wonder why we Brits haven't adopted Thanksgiving day . . . ??
Thankful for Thanksgiving Day for making me think what I'm thankful for.
I best post this before the day is done.
Thanks to anyone reading. Enjoy what's left of Thanksgiving day and the turkey.

Numbing down to a niggle

2011-11-19T22:41:00.002Z

Things that have niggled me this week to the extent that they are still bothering me on a Saturday evening. When nothing else is bothering me. Children are asleep, at Dads and with mates.
Firstly my family's total lack of concern, sympathy, understanding, belief (?) over my sudden hair loss. Ok, I know, it's hardly life threatening, painful, life changing even, but it's upsetting and worrying. Not because I think it is a symptom of any underlying condition . . . simply because I don't want to lose my hair, or even half of it. Well half has gone. That is fact. I know how it was. I know how it is. I need say no more. The Dr has booked me in for a thyroid function test and a hormone level test. The helpful comments from my family so far have been . . .
"Are you sure?" . . . "AM I SURE?" . . . Erm . . let me think . . just in case I'm mistaken . . . No. I'm pretty sure. As sure as one can be. Yes I'm sure.
"It's still long!" . . . Awesome! Ten strands down to me arse will do fine thankyou.
"You can't tell" . . . I can tell. And if it continues, soon you will be able to tell. I can't tell that Mr K has prostate cancer but that don't make it ok.
"Well you don't literally mean half " . . . ??? No I mean about an eighth!? WTF?!?
Ok. Enough examples on that one. Its exasperating just thinking about it. What it is with them? Or is it me? Sometimes I seriously wonder.
Ok. There are a few more petty things such as, my Mother being purposefully unresponsive to my dentist news and disgusted by the mention of false teeth ( I'm 78 and I've still got my own teeth. Yes Mother only because I hold my temper, or they would be down your . . . (joke) ) after having made me feel bad so often about the state of my teeth . . . I made it clear I was upset. Knowing she had gone too far, In a rare fit of generosity to try and fix it all, she told me she had found (found being the operative word) Two super king-size quilt covers that I could have. One was a brand new, never used, never likely to be used, dark red Monsoon quilt cover that she had no doubt bought on a whim. She said I would love it. I thought I would too. The other one was a bit old, faded plain cotton but would do for my bottom quilt (as I use one underneath and one on top). Lovely I said. Yes please. Thanks. A couple of days later, feeling safe that our relationship based on her saying exactly how she feels and me biting my tongue was, if not quite back on track, at least on its way, she arrives with the old faded one. Being able to read her with my eyes shut I said. "O aren't I getting the Monsoon one now? . . . "I can't find it" she said. No you can't look at me and say that either.
There is more but I know all of these things individually are so petty they are not worth bothering about. It just speaks volumes to me about the way my family feel about me. I know when I stop the gear there are matters I will have to deal with. It will not be so easy to constantly sweep crap under the carpet. Without a painkiller/number I will feel the pain, anger, resentment, lack of love of a lot more and I will have to say something. This is what I've been dreading and avoiding for 35 years.
Shit. This post started out as a light hearted list of stuff that had pissed me off a bit this week. I soon realised most of it was from the same source.
Apart from Ant and Dec!! hosting "I was almost a celebrity a long time ago and would like another chance . . . Get me out of here." How did that pair of buffoons become so popular?

Geezer's indigestion

2011-11-19T01:23:00.002Z

I started a post last night that I fell asleep on literally. It needed so much editing I may as well start again.
Every time I go on a prison visit I get so nervous about getting into the place, one would think I was taking a kilo of H with me. I'll tell you why.

A few years back, pre Hamper G, I was already with her Dad (We'll call him LQ though he doesn't feature much) and he was doing an 18 month sentence for dangerous driving and a few other bits and bobs. He had sent me a Visiting Order for Myself, Stropster, Geekster and a friend of ours, lets call him Geezer cus he is a geezer. He hadn't been with us before and wasn't exactly a close friend of LQ but he had a car which made things easier so I just accepted that's how it was. I did wonder on the way over if he had been invited for a "reason" but I didn't ask, I didn't want to know. I wished I hadn't even started wondering about things in the car, now concerned that I might behave nervously on his behalf.

Let me just say at this point, If I were offered a million pounds to take so much as one bag of gear into prison I would absolutely, most definitely not, under any circumstances, get involved. I am just not the type to pull it off. Or even try to pull it off. There are obviously many that can, and do, without a flicker of an eyebrow, but it aint me babe. When LQ was convicted he pretty much expected that I would help him in a way that ex girlfriends had helped him . . . Sorry lovey, call me spineless, and he did, but I have two kids (at the time) to think of. Tell me over and over that I will get in ok without a second glance but I know I won't. Shit I cant even tell a white lie so let's not be silly.

So we got there late, everyone else had gone through. I'm not sure if that was intentional on Geezer's behalf. Maybe he knew stuff like if you were late the dogs would have been put back to kennels or there would be less staff on entry or . . or . . I don't know, maybe we were just late. Anyhow we waited and waited. Geezer smelt a rat. He has a well trained nose. The staff went through the motions of walking us through the scanner arch, putting our belongings in a locker, the usual stuff. Then they ushered me and my two boys into the next room where there was a black Labrador waiting. That was unusual. Some prisons have them on every visit, some occasionally. For that particular prison it wasn't the norm. Geezer caught a glimpse of the dog as they closed the door behind me. That was when I saw the rat that Geezer had smelt. He was small, thin, steely-eyed, kind of perverse looking with a smirk of sadistic enjoyment. He told me to stand on the "footprints" and must have made some secret signal to the dog to "show interest" because the dog did indeed "show interest" and there was absolutely no reason why he should. I suppose if they have intelligence on someone who is definitely "carrying" something ie.The prisoner has been heard boasting about having something brought in that day or has been heard making plans on the phone. And the dog shows no interest because they have it well enough concealed, there must then be a way of making the dog "show interest" as an excuse to do follow up searches.
The Rat was up in my face, on his tiptoes, as I had platform boots on "You will be looking at 7 to 10 years for this, how did you think you would get away with it? You foolish girl. Did you really think it would be so easy?"
I protested. The dog is wrong. Do you think I'm mad? I was shaking, my legs were failing along with my bladder.You're wrong. I wouldn't do it for a million quid. You don't know me. How dare you? Are you mad? I was crying. The boys were crying. The Rat was having none of it. He thought I was acting up.
"We have intelligence on you" he said "We know you are carrying drugs! and you will face the consequences"
Shit. I started to believe him now. What if? What if Geezer had slipped something into my coat pocket or . . . or . . . or. No he wouldn't. Would he? Would he? Why else did the dog sit down? Fuck. Shit. God. Please God. I was dizzy. Nauseous. Seven years! This is not happening. I might not see the outside again. My boys. O God Please.
We were put in a side room where the boys and I were searched as well as they could without a strip search. They couldn't strip us there as they only had one female officer available. We were put in a corridor to stand for what seemed like hours with our hands held out in front of us. Geezer was strip searched in a side room and came out . . . free to go!!!! What? So where was it? Or was there nothing? My head was fucked. I started thinking awful things. Had Geezer put it in one of the kids pockets when he first smelt that rat? or in my bag? No. He's a friend. Surely not. But he was free to go. They told me I would have to wait to be taken to a police station to be strip searched. They didn't know how long we would have to wait. They put us in a holding cell. Geekster was only 5 he hid under the chair. He stayed under the chair. Tears catch my throat thinking about it. I was terrified. They were terrified. Geezer asked if he could see us. There was a female guard and a male guard in this tiny room with us standing at the door. Facing us. Geezer popped his head in (behind them) to say he would wait in the car outside for as long as need be. As he said this he made an "eating" motion with his hand to his mouth? Was he telling me to eat it? eat what? Did he think I had something too? I didn't know what to think any more. My head was a mess. Eventually a car was available. They took us to a police station.The driver was good to the boys and let them stay in the car whilst I was taken in to be strip searched. He was particularly nice to Geekster and let him sit in the front to make the blue light flash. God knows the lad needed some distraction. I wondered why they didn't want to search the boys. Why wasn't I hand-cuffed, I could have pulled out anything I might have hidden whilst in the back of the car and thrown it away on the way into the station. I started to realise this strip search was just humiliation and that I was no longer a serious suspect. And it was humiliation. I've had a few strip searches and that was by far the worst. The most thorough. Bitches. I didn't care. I was too damn relieved to find no one had planted anything on me. Even as they searched through my clothes I half expected them to pull out a surprise. No. Nothing. I could go. I was free. I didn't feel it. I was still scared.

We were driven back to the prison where Geezer was waiting. We drove off. I didn't speak. We drove home the back way through the countryside. Geezer told me when they took him into the room to strip him, they said they had seen him bite something from underneath his watch strap as I went into the dog room. He told them he kept Rennies there for indigestion. They said it would be on cctv. He said, good that way they would see it was Rennies. I could see now why Geezer had come with me. When he'd left the prison to wait for us Rat man had followed him out and said "Just off the record mate on a one to one, what was it then? Heroin? Crack?" . . . "Rennies mate, Rennies"

He pulled into a field on the way home, downed a Special Brew in one, started throwing up from the car door, went into the field for a piss and seemed to score from somewhere. Two half t's (2 x 0.8g). He gave one to me but I didn't have any foil. We went straight to the nearest Spar. I needed that smoke. He needed another Brew.
I received a six month ban from all prisons. Then a year on closed visits (behind glass).

That's why I am nervous about getting into prison. I imagine all possibilities and impossibilities. I stay right away from everyone in the waiting area. One waiting area was rows of seating. I had on a hoodie. I thought what if the person behind me drops something into my hood to be retrieved in the visit room? My head goes crazy . . . I go to the loo every 5 minutes, making myself look suspicious. I have no choice. I watch Hamper G in the play area of the waiting room. What if one of the parents tells their child to put this "sweety" in that girl's pocket? What if? And on it goes . . . No wonder I find visiting so stressful.

Reasons to be cheerful . . . 1, 2, 3, 4

2011-11-17T00:31:00.001Z

Wow what a busy few days. Non stop. I'm so tired I'll probably fall asleep way before I update . . . but I'll try. I didn't get my head crushed by the X-ray machine. I did panic a little as I had my head sort of clamped in position while the machine spun 360 degrees round my head. My imagination does me no favours. I saw my Dr. who booked me in for blood tests on hormone levels and thyroid function to see if there's a good reason for me feeling like I'm about to spontaneously internally combust ten times a day. She reassured me that my lungs will withstand a general anaesthetic. Whether my nerves will is another matter. As I left the Dr's I had a phone call from a friend to see if I was interested in doing four or five loads of washing for £40? Sounded (too) good to me . . . might have known with it being a male estimation . . . twelve loads of washing later! Still a good £30 profit after electric, wash tabs & softener though.
Arrived at prison today with Hamper G, her uncle (her dad's brother) and his son (2) and realised we had only £1 cash between us. One of the highlights of a visit for the prisoner is to eat loads of "treats" that they rarely get otherwise, Chicken wings, samosas, chocolates, crisps, jaffa cakes, biscuits, coke, coffee . . . I went to the canteen with my £1 voucher that I'd bought on the way in (you can buy between £1-£15) and asked if I could get a coffee and mars bar for a pound. Yes, exactly a pound. One of the prisoners (gold teeth) working the canteen took pity and put two extra choc bars on the tray. Nice . . . An extravagant visitor who was just leaving brought his tray back to the canteen hatch still half laden with unopened chocolate bars, crisps, cartons of juice, jaffa cakes, bottled water and mini cheddars and said to Gold teeth . . "You might as well have this back mate, I bought a bit more than we needed". Gold teeth goes "Chuck it all on her tray!" . . . Brilliant. I was just about to go back to our table and another leaving visitor asks me "Are you here for a couple of hours?" "Yeah" "Have this then, I put £15 on this voucher and have only spent £6 so there's still £9 on it!!" . . . Unbelievable!! They were well chuffed when I got back to the table. We proper "pigged out". Hamper G's Dad was looking well and we had a right good laugh. I'm officially starting Christmas tomorrow. I'm actually looking forward to it all (at the minute). Seems the more effort I put in, the greater the reward. What better incentive to make some more effort? It can't be this simple.

The dreaded "D" word

2011-11-12T19:23:00.002Z

Quote (me on Thursday) re; dentist visit, teeth, fear, etc "I am proper scared. If you saw my teeth, you would believe me. Once they are restored to their former glory, or as near as they ever get, I will post a before/after photo of how they are now and . . . blah blah"

HA, well there will be no "restoration", that was a tad optimistic of me, to say the least. So "as near as they will ever get to their former glory" is, in that case, now!! They are a million miles away from it. Come on, no, this can't be so.

Another quote, me on Thursday on the same subject "If it means removing the remaining teeth and having false ones, I will be mortified but if that's what it takes to smile again . . blah blah".

Mortified was an understatement. If that's what it takes, I might not bother smiling again.

Being my ever-optimistic self I have found ~~three~~ four positives to the whole shkaboodle

It's only the top set of teeth (Big Wow Whopee-Doo)
I will be asleep when all the work is being done (ripping my remaining 6 teeth & 4 severed roots out)
I only need one more visit to the dentist for the impressions to be made.
I might have to give up smoking to have a general anaesthetic due to my lungs.

At the minute it all feels like a very bad nightmare. I was so looking forward to looking and smiling like my old self again. This morning I woke up feeling normal(ish) for all of 1/500th of a second before my stomach dropped as reality hit. He cannot/will not fix the remaining teeth and replace the two fronts crowns that I lost yonks ago. He said its not worth it, they wont' last (?) and it will end up this way . . . so let's go for it! Yeah right, I'm gonna end up dead one day too but I don't mind waiting. All very well for him to say. Being the honest twat that I am, I filled in the medical history truthfully including methadone and drug addiction. I hope this didn't go against me. It probably did. Usually does. If anyone reading has or knows someone who has had a good experience with false teeth, please let me know. Only positive things. I don't mean better blow jobs either, that's hardly me benifitting is it? I know enough of the negative. I started a pros and cons list but got too depressed with the amount of cons. I loathe the idea. I'm gonna post this and start a new post. I can't bear the thought of it. All because I was too scared to go for 12 years. Or because my last dentist went private. O well, it matters not why . . . tis what it is. I can't even type the "D" word let alone say it. I can say false teeth but I will not call it what the dentist called it. Arsehole.

Positively lunar positivity

2011-11-11T01:03:00.008Z

Very productive day (thursday), must be full moon mania creeping in. This is the third day I've woke up with energy. We had an emergency appointment at 8.30 am with a new dentist for the Geekster, pain had finally got the better of him. He had a baby tooth removed three years ago by another dentist who almost put him off for life. Instead of numbing the gum around the tooth which is more than adequate for a first tooth, he numbed the facial nerve (the one right at the back in the hinge of the jaw. Ouch). It both shocked and hurt him and he would not go back. Until today.
I coaxed him into giving the new dentist a trial. I felt like such a hypocrite as I badly need to go but have been put off by one too many horrors. I promised him I would not let this man hurt him. He checked the tooth and said come back at 12.40 for an extraction . . . so we did. I explained to the dentist how he had been scared away and that he badly needed his confidence restoring. So please don't hurt him. Then I sat and watched. He was very gentle and considerate. He struggled for some time with the tooth, wiggling then levering, eventually he got it out and seemed quite surprised at the size of it. It was a big tooth with a long root. Geekster was so brave. I am so proud of him. So impressed with the dentist was I that I registered us all as a family and booked appointments, brave in the knowledge that there was a 6 week wait. I booked Hamper G and Stropster together and me on my own as I don't want to pass my fear/hysteria on to the children. Just as we were leaving the receptionist says "O hold on we have a cancellation tomorrow at 10.30 am would you like that for yourself? Like it? For me? . . erm? . . . erm? . . . I'm not sure . . . O go on then. No point putting it off. So that's me tomorrow morning!! I am terrified and I mean proper scared. If you saw my teeth you would believe me. Once they are restored to their former glory (or as near as they will ever get) I will post a picture of how they are now and after. I was always complimented on my teeth. I took them for granted, with the view "Everyone has them, what's nice about teeth? what's so special about them? " twelve years of drug addiction later, looking back at pre-gear photos . . . I now know what was so special about them. I could weep.
So this is a massive step for me. I know its early days and I haven't actually had any treatment yet but I really want to be able to smile again. Proper smile. Not a "hiding the teeth" smile. If it means removing the remaining teeth and having false ones I will be mortified but if that's what it takes to smile again that's what I'll do.
I saw my drugs worker today and told her I was definitely coming to the end of the road with gear. She pretended to be interested, almost managed to sound pleased, asked a few questions that she has asked before and handed me my script. Its just as well that I'm not relying on her for any support other than methadone. I made an appointment with the optician for an eye test to get new reading glasses as one of the arms/legs has completely broken off of mine. How do they stay on? I twist the leg that is still intact into my hair from the side of my face back towards my ear then perch them on my nose! Genius! Made an appointment with Dr for next week regarding this drastic hair loss. Over half my hair has gone in the last month. Worrying. Possibilities are stress, menopause (God help me us), trauma 3 months ago (?) thyroid problems or just another joy of getting old(er) . . . whichever it turns out to be I hope it stops now while I still have some left. Unlike my teeth, my hair was not affected by drug addiction. It stayed long and thick which I also took for granted . . . until now. If this continues I could end up *~~clean~~, bald, muscular, with dentures and a beard . . . Nice :-)

* I crossed clean out the next day. If I end up bald and bearded, with dentures I would have trouble staying clean.

Ok . . . I've said it.

2011-11-09T01:03:00.001Z

Just a quickie then . . . well I can't say I failed as that would imply that I tried. Maybe that's why I didn't try . . . so I wouldn't fail?
I have no idea why I didn't try? Really I've not had time to think about it yet I suppose. All I know is, it was a good day. I woke up with some energy, got the lads out, then spent 5 happy hours with Hamper G cleaning out the hamsters, checking their babies, chatting to and "voicing over" them, finding new combinations to accommodate the "newly discovered males" before we have any more accidents and generally enjoying the little swines. Flew through a few of hours cleaning, washing, cooking, bathed hamper G and . . . texted my dealer. Fool. Everytime a bit of me even tried to consider the option of not texting/phoning it was as if another part of me, stuck its fingers firmly in its ears and La La La La'ed very loudly! No. Not listening. Ner Ner. Fool. That's about as much as I can say happened, as that is what happened. Why?? . . . On a good day like today. No stress. None. And that's a rarity. I even prayed today would be easy and productive as I was well aware that a stressful, lethargic day would be the perfect excuse. So Why? If today wasn't right, when will be?

I am reluctant to say "I need to be forced to have a night off to make me realise it is not so hard" as it's likely to happen if I do. So why not? The trouble is, those rare times that I've been forced to go without (drought or gear just not being available) although it is what I've prayed for/wished for/wanted/needed, some twisted logic says this is not for the best, not the right way, it's being forced on me and will NOT work. No way. It leads me to panic and convince myself that I need to get gear. It has to be here, then I can say No. My choice. Yeah, right. Hideous and wrong. Because it does work. It's happened before and after ruining most of my evening texting or calling users and dealers whose numbers no longer exist, jittering about, chain smoking, forcing a sniffle despite extra methadone, cursing and fighting this rare opportunity, knowing I won't get a result because this is meant to be, I finally go to sleep . . . I wake up feeling brighter, looking better, moving faster, singing (?!) louder and realise I survived, I slept more soundly and saved £10/£15!

So ok, I know it works, it will happen and it will be for the best . . . "I need to not be able to score, to be forced to take a night off and see that it's not so hard after all" .

Any idea how many times I highlighted that line ready to delete?

First goal

2011-11-08T01:09:00.004Z

Ok I've pretty much outlined the main changes that I would really like to make. I'm not looking to become a different person or anything "more" than I've been in the past (pre-H). If I do become more content, more motivated, or more anything than ever before, that would be a bonus, but I'm tying to keep my goals "real". It's weird cus sometimes it feels so do-able. I was clean for 38 years, although not sober. Other days it feels impossible. Yesterday I spent time reading blogs. Some things I read reminded me how hard it is to stop this damn drug. Its easy to talk about stopping when it's still in your life . . . but the void it leaves is quite incredible. I have tried before. This time might be easier for the following reasons. I wont have to do any cold turkey as I have a methadone script. I only use one bag a day. I don't socialise with other addicts or live the "lifestyle" associated with Heroin addiction. I no longer spend hours a day raising money to score, running around trying to score, scoring and using. All of which leaves a lot of empty hours when you stop. So the actual using time that I will need to "fill" is not a problem. . . . . . Where is the difficulty for me? To be honest I can't remember but I soon will. I need ~~to try~~ to do one night off. Even if it's only one night to begin with. That is my first goal. The sooner I do this the happier I will be that this is going somewhere. Like getting on the bottom rung of the ladder. Once I am on the bottom rung I will believe that I can go further. The first rung to the second rung will then be easier. I think I will be quite excited. If I can't get on the bottom rung I need to find out what it is that I'm so frightened of. What is preventing me from making that first move. Ok let's see what tomorrow brings.

A fluffy dressing gown fantasy

2011-11-06T02:36:00.007Z

Ok, I seem to be back on track again. Not 100% recovered but a month has gone by and I haven't made much progress. I need to give this some thought. What do I want to change? Really want to change. I suppose I could have a little fantasy . . . I could fast forward to my 50th birthday or thereabouts. Skip the 16 months in between and all the hard work (if I'm gonna skip it, I might as well have worked hard) . . . Just to wake up one fine morning mid-January 2013 and what?
So I wake up in a bed for a start. I don't think there's anything wrong with a mattress on the floor but I'm starting to get middle-age aches in my joints, I think a comfortable bed might help. Alone in a bed. My daughter will sleep in her own bed and room by then, which I will have finished decorating. That way I will get a good nights sleep. I wont reach out for the baccy to roll a ciggy because I will have quit smoking by then. I will walk over to open the window and take a few (ever increasing) lungs full of sharp clean winter air. Mmmmm. I'll put on one of those full length soft dressing gowns (size 10 because I will have lost the weight that I want to loose) with a hood and equally soft slippers. Every winter I intend to get these. Every winter I use an old fleece with trackie bottoms and no slippers. I will go to the bathroom and brush my teeth . . . teeth that will be fixed by then. Having brushed them I will bare them in the mirror to check them. Baring them will be bearable again. I'm glad I'm skipping the 15 months in between as I've already lost weight, quit smoking, decorated, faced the dentist phobia, and I haven't even gone downstairs yet . . . I hardly recognise myself :-). I will choose some clothes to wear. I wont ever own a walk in wardrobe with 50 pairs of shoes cus that just aint "me" but to choose from at least three pairs of jeans, maybe six or seven quality winter jumpers and 3 (?) pairs of boots would be luxury . . . I'm not talking a lottery win here, just an adequate amount of clothing. Like my kids have. I emphasized choose as I don't choose at the minute. There is no choice. Lets just make one thing clear . . . I'm not feeling sorry for myself. My choice has been to spend my clothes money on gear. I have kept some size 10 clothes but since I've been a size 12 I don't want to buy clothes. I will wait. I wont give into a size twelve. Having fed the kids and got them off to school/work I'll do the usual chores, nothing different there except I will move faster, breath better and ache less. I'll dedicate some of my day to creativity . . . drawing, clay modelling, decorating or similar stuff that I used to enjoy, and some time to music. I'll get back to playing the piano. I still have my piano. I'll work out 3 or 4 times a week at home. I've done this before so I have weights, bench and a routine I ~~could~~ will get back into. There is a small friendly gym about 60 metres from the house. I might feel "normal" enough to use it by then. Ok, maybe not. That's far-fetched beyond fantasy . . . Most importantly I won't need to start texting/phoning around at four O' clock to make sure I've got what I want for the evening. I won't sit clock watching, counting down the hours from mid afternoon until "gear-time". I won't get impatient and irritable when I'm messed about by some-one who don't give a fuck (dealer). The highlight of my day will not depend on some arsehole being bothered to answer the phone or call round. The highlight of my day won't be ruined and turned to misery by some selfish arse selling crap because he's bought crap, instead of cutting his losses, which he could certainly afford to do. And so on. And on. Fantasy. It's not impossible but that is only one side of it. The good side. That's why it's a fantasy. I'll go further into this tomorrow. I'm falling asleep. Pretty boring fantasy really.

I don't think so

2011-11-03T01:31:00.002Z

Ok I need a magnum to get me through this one . . .
I did mention briefly in a previous post that my blocked toilet was an ongoing saga. I thought for one blessed moment that the end was in sight today. How to cut a three year story short? Yes, three years!
Three years ago the Council removed my beautiful old toilet with the high cistern, pull chain and my £20 ceramic pull handle. They replaced it with a useless modern version which has a neat little (non) flush button.

Not once during ten years did the old style toilet block. Never. Within two days of the new version I had worked out that the hole where the shit is supposed to disappear was just not big enough. Simple. Square pegs and round holes etc. The "Gap" is almost letterbox shaped, whereas the old one was round, the right shape to take something cylindrical. ie. a shit. Many letters of complaint and visits from the council followed. Visits to check the outlet, the drainage pipe, the sewer, the cistern, in fact anything but the "Gap". They said it was standard. They would not listen. I spent the next three years with a stick in a bucket of bleach installed next to the toilet to break up anything that wouldn't fit through the Gap. That was most things. Occasionally the whole thing would totally block and fill to the rim with filthy brown water and other things. I allowed the council man to unblock this once. Never again. They use a mop as a plunger and plunge away until something gives. I appreciate this has to be vigorous but by the time he had unblocked it the filthy brown water and other bits were splashed everywhere. They "don't do cleaning". Any subsequent blockages I dealt with myself by copying him with a mop I'd bought for this purpose. I managed to do this without splattering the mess everywhere. Sometimes this would work almost instantly other times I would be there plunging and sweating for over an hour. Occasionally when this failed I'd have to empty the contents of the pan into a bucket, carry it down to the garden, remove the manhole cover from the sewer access and chuck it all down the sewer. Yes I know I have a very long tether but I was nearing the end of it.

This sewer trip business had happened at least four times in the last week and I decided enough was enough. I e-mailed the Council to say "Please sort it out or I will call in the environmental health. For the last week my daughter, my 12 yr old son and I have been using a child's potty in the kitchen and my other son is slowly filling the pan up as he refuses to use the potty (rightly so). This is medieval and quite frankly a health hazard."

Yes this is cutting it short . . . Yesterday some fool came and emptied the toilet, discovered it wouldn't flush, blamed me for occasionally using wipes, investigated and found the whole soil stack (that is the large "pipe" from the toilet on the outside of the house right down to the sewer) to be blocked. O that's the problem he says. No. That is not the problem. The problem is the Gap!! that is just a"side effect". Yes of course it needs sorting but it will not solve the problem. Well lets just wait and see me duck shall we, says he . . . The drainage man came today to blast it all with power hoses, rods and the like. Lovely. I said thank you but that will not change a thing. Luckily he was still sat outside when Stropster went for a much needed shit. Guess what? It wouldn't go through the Gap! O surprise surprise. I ran out to the van, opened his door and tried to drag him upstairs to witness it. Come and see I insisted . . . No I believe you . . . you believe me? Could I have that in writing please? No I'll do better than that. He phoned the Council while I was there and said its the toilet. It's wrong. The Gap is not sufficient. We need to change it !!!!! Hallelujah!! Yeahey!! Thank You. It was almost a Dr. Chawala moment in that I could've hugged him. But I dint because he was quite messy by now. Ok he says someone will be here soon to measure up for a new one. I went upstairs and broke up that last (?) shit with my faithful stick so happily. So satisfied that at last I had been proved right after 3 years. It was the Gap . . .

One hour later big boss man arrives . . . Head of department. Brilliant. Yes come on up. Have a look. Help yourself. I almost offered him a cup of tea but I didn't . . . Come on man just fill out an order for a new "old" toilet and lets get it done with. No. He lifts the lid of the cistern, looks at the water level, shakes his head and says . . . That's where the problem is! ! . . . . You fucking Whaaaat? (I thought) because I am unbelievably tolerant ;-) You're water level is too low! No. No. And thrice No. I said. You are mistaken. He looked at me like I might be insane. I might. He asks for two sheets of newspaper to demonstrate his discovery to this "silly woman who has no idea what she is talking about after 3 years of poking shit down the effing toilet". The first sheet he flushes with the cistern half full, it didn't go down (Yes I see where this is going Mister) The second with the cistern full, it went. Yes. Very good. Excellent. But guess what? . . . We don't shit sheets of newspaper. It doesn't matter how much water is in the damn cistern. The G.A.P. is Too small. I am almost in tears by now. I am looking at my stick and wanting to thrash him with it. Ok he says well lets see how it goes shall we? I had a Dr's appointment to get to. I'd had more than enough for two days, not counting the three years. So I said ok off you go and I will e-mail you as soon as one of us has a shit. Byeeee. (see you tomorrow).

. . . At the Dr's. (not Chawala he wasn't in today) Chest almost clear. Good. No need for further anti-biotics or steroids, just rest. Rest. O yes Dr whilst we are on the subject of steroids, could they have made me seriously manic? Yes. Ok. No-one warned me but I'll let it pass because I'm good at that. Could they have made a third of my hair fall out? No. Absolutely not. In fact quite the opposite, sometimes they are used to promote hair growth (chin whiskers she meant). O that's strange because I lost roughly a third of my hair last week. No, she says, then she had a little think, could it be stress? Stress? . . . Stress? . . . No I don't think so :-)

The truth, The whole truth & almost nothing but the truth.

2011-10-30T17:39:00.001Z

Another hangover from my strict Godly upbringing is I don't like lies. I can't lie and can usually see straight through other people's lies. On the few occasions that it's seemed like a good idea to lie, I have tried and failed. Blushing, blithering, tripping myself up,waiting to be struck by lightning. I just can't do it. Also I see no need to lie. I am honest and open about my drug use to all of my family, doctors, social workers, police . . . anyone who wants to know really. I also know from experience that the truth has a way of outing sooner or later, so there's no point in lying.
Having said that . . . just occasionally a "harmless little white lie" offers itself up as an option. Example.
A couple of weeks ago Geekster had taken the day off school. Ok, I had allowed Geekster to have the day off. I wasn't well, had missed the alarm and justified it with him being ahead of his year. The school send me a text to say he hasn't registered and please could I call or reply by text to explain his absence. Ok yes later . . . when I've thought up something to say (a lie?). Meantime I'm trying, for the second day, to get £10 back that I had lent to someone . Although he is a "user" he works and is reliable (ish) so I had kept it polite but I really did need it before the evening. I thought if I start the day (10am) sounding desperate it should be sorted by early evening. I wrote the text , "Please bring that tenna round ASAP as I'm not well and could proper do with a bag to sort it". I was (still am) ill with a chest infection, but I implied I was rattling (withdrawing) and that the tenna could mend it all . Yes that should work, a bit of guilt, Ok . . . . Send . . . hold on?? Why didn't it ask me which number to send it to??!!?? Why??? Because it was still on reply mode from earlier . . . reply to who?? . . The school!!!!! Shit Damn Fuck Wank Help Bugger Bollox Rewind Cancel?!?! NO too late . . . message sent. O God NO!! thats too harsh. Thats not fair. To have been caught out by the person I'd lied to would've surley been enough? No. Not enough. I didn't even bother texting the school with another "white lie" as to why Geekster was absent . . . They will have made their own minds up on that one. That'll teach me . . .

Not by the hair(s) of my chinny chin chin . . .

2011-10-28T03:23:00.001+01:00

Are these a sign of the times? Are we finally getting the equality we longed for? Have we spent so much time encouraging men to "get in touch" with their feminine side that we are losing touch with ours, or is it just something in the water?
A few years back, to my absolute horror at the time, a couple of rogue whiskers appeared either side of my chin..Contrary to all advice not to pluck these invaders lest they multiply I had the tweezers at the ready the second one surfaced. Sometimes even before they surfaced, leaving holes where I'd excavated them. To me a hole was preferable to a whisker. They did indeed multiply and now there is, or would be if I didn't pluck them every day, a small patch (of maybe10) either side of my chin . The strange thing is I am not alone . . . My sister Juju, a few friends (one as young as 27) and countless strangers that I've scrutinised also have these whiskers. We expect women in their 70's and 80's to have them . . . but we seem to be getting them younger. Has anyone else noticed this? C'mon Girls own up.

I'm not going to leave this as a draft to be edited in the morning otherwise I will delete it. So I will post it now, warts, whiskers n all :-) Sorry Juju for "outing" yours too :-) thats Sistery Solidarity.

Gledwood has pups!! . . .

2011-10-26T11:37:00.015+01:00

Hamper G + 22 Roborovskis

The latest arrival

For those of you who don't know, I have anything between 20 and 30 Roborovski hamsters at any one time. A long story that began roughly a year ago when I bought two "male" Roborovskis. Reginald & Anchovy. Yes two males. It's these little swines who originally drew me to Gledwood's blog as in "Hamsters and Heroin". When I discovered it was specifically Roborovskis that he loved, well I was hooked. Meantime Anchovy & Reginald had pups and try as I might to keep the whole thing under control, there were accidents!
Fast forward a year . . . having kept most of the pups from most of the accidents, I had (until Sunday) 17 Robos left. Each one an individual character. Each one with his/her own story. Some that live happily together in pairs, some in threes. One cage has four. Others have had to be separated and live alone.
I have eight cages of these beautiful little "people". Having had no pups appear for a few months I thought I'd finally mastered the somewhat hit & miss "art" of sexing them. Until Sunday night when I heard the unmistakeable tweeting of babies. Checked the suspect cages. Nothing. Followed with my ear. Laddio & Gledwood's cage . . Ahhhhhh They are so cute.
*Gledwood was orphaned at four weeks (a story involving next door's cat) . After showing definite "male" behaviour towards his cousins Bianca and Lily, although he was sexed as a female I thought it best to judge him on his behaviour and see if Laddio would adopt him as a younger "male" friend.
Laddio is one of the "Old boys" from the first surprise litter. He had been living alone for some time after "bullying" other males of similar size. As Gledwood was still a young lad I hoped Laddio might accept him and he did . . . (well of course he did ;-) Little did I know. Until . . .
So here we are five pups of very varying sizes. Possibly four to five days old. One of Geeksters friends has been waiting for two. That leaves us three . . . Hamper G has already named them, regardless of gender,
Billy. Herbert & Stromboli. .
She has learnt at a young age that gender means nothing with these lads :-)
As soon as Geekster is home from school I will borrow his phone to take and post some photos. Having said that I wonder if I could use the webcam to show one??? This could be fun.

* (The Gledwood did give me permission to name one after him)

YAY!!! Success . . .Ok we have the technology! Now I will try to get a better shot!! with some kinda size comparison. He is the biggest of the five. Not too clear with the webcam. Will swap these later when I can get some close ups.
Top photo "The Whole Shkaboodle + Hamper G"

Too ill to . . .

2011-10-25T14:53:00.001+01:00

Ok let's not get confused. This is my attempt at change and diary of progress or not. Not a fair-weather blog. I held off writing today as I'm too ill to be positive. Tough. I worked all day Saturday. Worked myself into a frenzy again. I won't write a long list of "jobs done" but at 9.00pm I was vacuuming the ceilings!! hmmmm. Sunday I hoped I might rest in cleaner surroundings . . . I had forgotten Geekster was due back from France with four loads of washing and I had promised to cook a huge "Christmas dinner style" roast to celebrate. I didn't rest. Monday was prison visit for Hamper G to see her Dad. That's another story. I woke up this morning feeling worse than a week ago. O dear. I know what I should do. My head is banging and is way too hot. I am struggling to think. I need to feel better. I have to feel better. I just want to go to bed.

Now that's what I call . . . Dancing!!

2011-10-21T04:09:00.001+01:00

Had a taste of the "Mania" side effect earlier (Thursday evening). In fact I'm still coming down which is why I find myself, once again, awake at ~~nearly~~ past 4 am!! This can't be good for physical recovery can it? I thought sleep was one of the best forms of recovery known. I do from time to time get a little natural mania but not enough to bother me. In fact quite the opposite. I just take advantage and do some usually well overdue cleaning. But this was way beyond that. It just kept on escalating and I was getting a tad concerned where it might all end. Plus it was accompanied by palpitations and a general increase in heart rate. I did my best to ignore this, as I know from past experiences with speed/coke etc that paying it too much attention is not a good idea.
So as I was simultaneously putting washing in washer/drying in dryer/food in the oven/weekly shopping in the cupboards and getting very animated about nothing . . . I found myself singing an old song. Well truthfully Stropster found me singing it and asked what it was. I told him. We found it on you tube. We listened to it and danced. We played air trombones, saxophones, trumpets, pianos. We sang and laughed. It went well with the mania. It felt good. I can see why you good folk out there who have experienced the free high that is "mania" want some more of it. I have to try and sleep but I will post this up first. Dancing . . . da de da da da Dancing!!

Ok it has to be . . . Dr Chawala you are the best!! Thankyou.

2011-10-20T03:17:00.009+01:00

Ok so I was right. It is an infection. There were no appointments available so I had to go to an emergency "sit & wait" thingamy at the end of normal surgery . . . which turned out to be a blessing. One of the receptionists said "when your name comes up on the light board, just go to Dr. Trawlers room, middle corridor 2nd door on left" For once I absorbed the directions, quite a rarity in itself for me. Usually after being given directions to whereever, I find I haven't taken in one word of it. What I will have taken in will be strange little details about the persons appearance. Not intentionally. It just happens. Anyhow when my name came up, I found the door, noticed it didn't have Dr Trawler on the name-plate, obviously doubted my memory of directions and started checking all the other doors. No Trawler. Returned to the original door for a second glance Dr. Chawala. OK. I get it. What a pleasant surprise. A very thorough Doctor. He'd obviously skimmed through at least my lung history. He knew which consultant I saw, which meds I was on, what needed checking and what needed asking. This might not sound such a great deal as most of the information is on the computer screen in front of him and he is, after all, a Doctor. But compared to other doctors I've seen, sometimes for the fifth or sixth visit, when they still don't seem to remember anything other than the fact that you're a heroin addict, he was an absolute joy, God bless him. He immediately prescribed steroids (eight for breakfast) with the penicillin, instead of waiting a week to see if penicillin alone would work. He was aware I have three children to tend to, needed some strength & probably wouldn't be getting much rest. He even asked me to double the amount of steroid inhaler that I usually take and do extra breathing excercises. That's a first from any Doctor. He was adamant that I get straight back to him if things worsened before Friday & that I return when I had finished the course of Penicillin, even if I felt well. He also neither judged or lectured me. Well I'm impressed. No really, credit where it's due. Bravo Dr ~~Trawler~~ Dr ~~Koala~~ I mean Dr Chawala!! So that was Tuesday. I already feel better in someways. Tomorrow (today) I'm going to get my Nicorette nicotine replacement patches, chewing gums, lozengers & pretendy ciggy things out of the cupboard & try, try, try again to stop this habit. Who knows, maybe I'm this ill for a reason. There's no maybe about it. One "maybe" has occurred to me during this steroid-induced insomnia . . . Maybe he asked the staff to pronounce it Trawler, rather than them getting it almost right with the wrong emphasis. i.e. Dr. Cha wala which can mean literally, at its best, tea maker or "Tea boy" , at its worst . . . "Retard ". Maybe not. Maybe I'm thinking too much. I should be asleep. The alarm is set for 7am. Why can't I be this awake at 7am and vice-versa? I must at least try to sleep. Shit its gone half 2!! I'm gone. O almost . . . Barbara has just joined! Welcome Barbara :-) now I'm gone.

Ooooo errr I just decided to quickly look up the possible short term side effects of these particular corticosteroids (instead of going to sleep) They are . . . Insomnia ,Euphoria, Mania, Phycosis (not necessarily in that order :-)) and on the negative side Depression, Weight gain & Black stool!! O Joy. I'm real gone now.

and . . . indecisiveness! No, really?

PS. Thursday afternoon
I just had to go and confirm this Cha Waller thing, as much for myself as for anyone else wondering . . . And sure enough as soon as I typed it in I found an example

In addition to my old shipmate’s stories (Dick Imrie and Ray Self) I too remember that eight days leave in Darjeeling. I recall how we travelled through the night by train from Calcutta with every halt along the way punctuated with the cry of the Cha Waller, hot, strong and sweet tea served up in the earthenware dishes smashed after use and costing two annas, and . . . . blah, blah, blah

The last thing I needed

2011-10-18T01:29:00.001+01:00

I slept this afternoon.(monday) My Mother had taken Hamper G, so I could rest.I dreamed it was snowing. I also dreamed that the hamsters had somehow got themselves into one cage and I was trying to work out who was who & which cages they should be in. I woke up in a panic drenched in a cold sweat. . . I had a high temperature . . . I have a chest infection. This is exactly what I didn't want or need. I'm gonna continue this "diary", even though there will be no progress until I'm better. That could be days, weeks or months, depending on the strength/effect of the antibiotics I'm given tomorrow, the amount of physiotherapy I do
and whether they prescribe steroids at my first appointment tomorrow or wait until I can barely breath.
Having said there will be no progress, one time I had a chest infection I lost almost a stone in weight so who knows?
Every time I try to think for a minute I start to dream and come round to find a row of a few hundred "w"'s or "b"'s that need deleting. I can't concentrate on anything and it's taken me four hours to write this short update. I don't want to be this ill. I really can't think so I'm going to bed.

Leonard Cohen

2011-10-16T23:54:00.000+01:00

Shit! Bollox! Fuck! more shit! . . . and then a Prison Visiting Order!

2011-10-16T10:07:00.005+01:00

I can't even get it together to write a list. I need to feel better. My cold is worse than ever. My chest is getting worryingly heavy & tight. Today is the only day I might have got a lie in . . . Hamper G woke me at 7.30am. I even went to bed properly at 11pm (and stayed there) last night in an attempt to feel better today. Part of me wants to up my methadone again to 40mg/ml to see if that puts me back on an even keel, then get my flu jab and reduce again. I'm reluctant to do this, as I've only taken two small steps forward & don't really want to take one step backwards. O I don't know. I know I'm sick to death of feeling crap. This is not me. As I said, at the start of this blog, the cold that initiated this "wanting to change" was my first cold in over a year. I can't start from down here. It almost feels like "something" doesn't want me to change, why doesn't that surprise me? I'm sorry if all this makes for boring, bemoaning posts but I can only write what is. I feel like fucking crying . . and that's unlike me too. Hamper G already has her in-line skates on, wanting to go out, wanting food, wanting , wanting . . . . O God help me.

Geekster is in France, so that's one less. Stropster stayed away yesterday after coming in from work at lunch-time (half day on Saturday) to no hot water, no usual Saturday lunch-time fry up, no cup of tea waiting and to top it all a blocked loo so he couldn't have the shit that he'd been "holding in" all morning at work. O dear. He punched a hole in the bathroom door, pretty much the only door that was intact in this house, called me a few names and went to his Dad's. Mothers are not allowed to be ill!? What did I think I was doing not going to the shop to get gas for hot water & food? "I bet you've sat there all morning on that fucking laptop?" . . "you're not ill . . you're fucking lazy!" . . and so on . . and so on. I couldn't be arsed telling him I'd spent all morning getting things ready for Geeksters trip to France, why should I explain myself to him? I'm his mother, not his employee. The toilet is still blocked , I have blisters from trying to unblock it (council bloke stylee with a mop, a mop that is kept for this purpose alone) for over an hour. It is a long ongoing story for another day. I have given up . . . Hamper G and I are using a baby's potty, which is all the same to her. I wont elaborate on how it is for me. Then I have to "bag up the bob" doggy stylee & put it in the bin . . . Give me strrrrrength. Then, just when I don't need it . . . we get a prison visiting order!!

Hamper G's Dad got moved back to a higher security prison 6 months ago. Prisoners usually go the other way. They might await sentencing in a Category A prison, begin their sentence in a Cat B (depending on the type/seriousness of the crime) and hopefully move to a Cat C or eventually even D (open prison) throughout their sentence. This, of course, all depends on their behaviour, attitude to fellow inmates and screws & results of drug testing! Need I say more?
Until the move six months ago we had been going to see him every month. In the new prison you need photographic ID. I hadn't got any . . Six months later I receive my National ID card, E-mail him to tell him & promptly (yesterday ) receive a VO with a letter saying how excited he is to see us both, I will have to go this week. I can't say I've got cold . . I can't make it. How lame would that sound? Can u imagine . . . I can.

I have to get ready and go out. No, I don't want to, every muscle in my body is aching, along with my head and my ear . . I have taken 35ml/mg of methadone. Its only 10ml more than usual. I've gotta try something . I know what I would like to try . . . but I will resist. ~~Things can only get better.~~ That's just asking for trouble!
Just as I wrote that, I received a text from Stropster . . . Sorry about yesterday, sorry I didn't text last night to say where I was, sorry I didn't come back to say goodbye to "Geekster" . . . and . . . Any chance of that fry up??? Wait till I tell him he has to use a potty!! :-) Here we go. Back later. Love sent out to anyone reading this "Sunday morning moan" x

I need a day off.

2011-10-15T13:19:00.000+01:00

I'm gonna make a start on my list of things to do & to undo before the big five "O" to keep myself focused on the bigger picture. I've been so tired since my last post . . . I dragged myself through thursday. I did most of the things I needed to do, apart from The list & the mammoth hamster cleanout. I am now 6 phone calls nearer to opening a bank account for Stropster to have his wages paid into. You wouldn't believe how difficult they make it. I suddenly remembered Geekster is off to France for a week this evening so I need to prepare for that today. I dragged myself through friday too. I got quite a lot done because I have to but it was all an effort. It still is. I have to force myself to do anything. Whether this is due to my methadone reduction or this cold not being over, or both, I don't know. I just hope and expect it to be settled down by wednesday. That way I can get my flu jab, stop worrying about getting flu, and do my next 5mg/ml reduction. I think once I get down to 20mg/ml I will have to reduce by 1mg/ml doses rather than 5. Its always the last few milligrams/millilitres that are the hardest to stop. Methadone is very addictive, some say more so than heroin. I don't know. I know once I'm off methadone Its no problem staying off. How many people come out of prison having detoxed from methadone & gear, then go hunting down a nice fat bottle of green gloop?
Stropster said I look thinner yesterday, that was music to my ears. I don't have any scales but I can check next friday at the chemist. So there has been some progress with methadone & weight. I now have to decide which other areas need dealing with. Its 5 am. This is usually my best thinking time. I will write a list on paper, prioritise it, then post it.
One thing occurred to me after my half hour session with my "drugs worker" on thursday . . . If I had been a fly on the wall and someone had said to me afterwards "Ok fly what do you think all that was about?" I would 've said "I aint gotta clue. Other than one woman asking another how things were with various aspects of her children's lives, plans for Christmas, etc. and handing her a blue sheet of paper, I really dont know." . .Hmmmmm. Neither do I.

Something about nothing . . .

2011-10-13T11:49:00.007+01:00

I didn't miss the alarm.The final time I woke up at 6.15am I decided, sensible mother that I am, it was too risky to go back to sleep. It doesn't even feel like a new day . . . more like a groggy extension of yesterday. Partly because the gear I got last night was the cleanest & strongest I've had in a year so as well as "sitting up" all night either gouching, trying to finish the bag or catching up on some blogs, I also found a fair sized beetle on the foil this morning. This just doesn't happen. Not since the drought. I must say I did enjoy a little morning smoke. Because it was a treat. Because I didn't need it. Yes just you remember that. Behind me are the days of smoking a bag before I could get to the kitchen for a coffee. I'm gonna be tired all day now. Fool!
Tired or not I gotta go & see my drugs "worker" this safto for encouragement & inspiration :-), write my "other areas" (awaiting improvement) list, continue swiping the whole Christmas thing into the overfilled "cupboard under the stairs" part of my brain, clean out "my" 17 roborovski hamsters, dog-sit the "Nudster", & keep on top of the every day stuff. Oooops nodded off there. My cold has almost gone. Thats good innit? I imagine if I'd gone to bed at 11pm I might have been proper buzzing today. O well. I must away . . . rack my brains for details of the "Paolo la voce" tale & work my way through the day, accompanied in my head by Bob Dylan's "you're gonna make me lonesome when you go".
Triggered off by the words "you're gonna make me give myself a good talking to" :-) Love that line. Ok gotta go.

Only a fool

2011-10-13T02:57:00.004+01:00

Oooo me heads a mess. The tangle of wet rope that replaced my brain yesterday feels more like gravel now. I have to keep reminding myself that I've at least reduced my methadone by 20ml/mg a day. As there has been no progress in any other areas. I know its only been a week but weeks add up to months . . . Soon I'll need to make a list of these "other areas", The fact that I haven't already done it speaks volumes. Right, tomorrow morning I'll do it. Its 2.04 am. I fell asleep there for a while in the armchair & woke very suddenly with a magnum craving. Had a magnum. I expect that's another area where there has been no progress. That "area" being somewhere between what used to be my waist and what used to be by knobbly knees. Hey ho.
There's an Italian film on in the background. I love the Italian language. I once totally ruined a female friend's entire week's holiday on the Camargue with me (or without me as it turned out) by falling for an Italian, or more specifically falling for an Italian voice. Some fucking friend I was eh? Anyway more of that in the morning. I'm getting into my bed before I fall asleep here. I only popped in to post the tune that was in my head. Only a fool indeed. Goodnight All .

. . . Shit just woke up in armchair again. Face flat onto the chair in front of me that my laptop's on. My glasses embedded in my face. Ouch. Bed. Fool.

. . . 4.50am . . yes still in the armchair. Bed. I can see me missing the alarm in 2 hrs. 2 hrs!?!

To fellow bloggers

2011-10-12T14:31:00.005+01:00

Ok a few of you may, or may not have noticed that I have just signed up as a follower of your blog. The obvious reason for this is that having started my own blog a week ago, I would like you to "follow" me . . . and of course you are more than welcome. :-)
But the main reason is, although until now I have only officially "followed" Gledwood (mostly due to lack of time) I have often visited & commented on blogs from his bloglist & others and have found myself "following" ie; reading every post of a few. These didn't show on my list of "blogs I follow" unless I signed up . . . I want them to show as I have brought a few readers here who are new to the blog world. This way, if they fancy reading more, there are some suggestions of blogs that I read. Thats all folks!

A snippet of life.

2011-10-12T09:14:00.011+01:00

Ok whats to tell then? a right snotty head, sore throat and cold sweats thats what. Seems a bit rough when it was only last thursday I started feeling better. Spose at least the banging head as gone. But its left me woolly headed. The only good thing about having a cold is my fags taste better. Before these two colds I cant recall the last one I had. Gear stops you getting these minor ailments . . . Just another trick . . .

Well that was me last night . . . woke up in the armchair at 3am with a dent in my forehead from the table edge. I feel even worse today I can only put this dowm to reducing my methadone. Over a week I've reduced from 50ml/mg (see I do listen GW) to 30ml/mg. Thought I best start somewhere. It has made a diiference with pupil size, emotions, irritabilty & general "awakeness/awareness" but I hadn't bargained for semi-permanent colds. Have just cancelled my flu jab for this afternoon. Not a good idea until I feel ok. I get a flu jab as I have lung disease, emphysema. Yes, the gear might protect us from the minor ailments but like I said . . . . thats just a trick.

The second time I woke up it was 7.32!!!! (I set the alarm for 7) Shit! Bollox! Panic!. Woke boys up, Stropster almost got gobby then remembered THE ultimatum (its worked so far), made him T & cig . . . took them up to him, packed his "half a" lunch!, Ironed Geeksters uniform after eventually finding it screwed up in his school bag as he came home in PE kit. Thats the "Geekster" all brains, no common sense. Made his breakfast, found his football kit. . . . made a mental note, yet again, to retrain these boys , or retrain myself. On my fifth trip upstairs to get Stropsters rizlas as he had oily work boots on, I was crawling. Bearing in mind this is all before 8am .Came downstairs, did my inhalers & prayed that this cold doesn't go to my chest . . . O please no.

Ok so gonna post later. I gotta get ready & face the weekly shop . . . Its the last thing I feel like doing., I badly need a hair wash . . . its not the washing I mind, but I cant face brushing it through first. Its very long & very tangled.

I hope this snippet of life hasn't bored any readers . . . hello Russia, if you're still reading . . . hello anyone if you're still reading. I just wanted to record this for future reference. Ok I have to get ready. Love sent out to all. I hope that dent in my head smooths over before Asda. I look & feel like I've been hit with a spade.

Coming back to life . . . . the recovery of some feelings & a few earthly treasures

2011-10-11T00:41:00.012+01:00

Beautiful sounds, lyrics & visuals. The sound on this laptop is pretty weak. Geekster (middle son 12) says there is not a way to plug in through my good but old technics system. I tend to trust him when it comes to all things techno or geeky. Most of my old "sounds" are on vinyl. Most of them, like me, have spent too many nights lying around on floorboards, drunkenly discarded & mistaken for ashtrays, when one tune has led to another and so on. So lots of fireworks in the background. Some say it adds to the authenticity. Geekster says burn "copy" cd's of them all from the internet . . .Stropster (16) says burn them, full stop.

Every time I've moved on with my life, or gone on four year "holidays" I've always left everything behind . . None of that split this, share that, saw it down the middle, sell it & split the cash shit., Have the lot. A hangover from my anti-materialistic up-bringing . . . store up your treasures in heaven (soul?) not on earth . . etc. :-) Everything except a small bear, Floppy ears that I've kept since I was 3, a few bits of jewellery, some photos & most importantly my vinyl records.

I came back to England in '88, after 6 years in France, for one week's holiday. Three years later I realised I'd left my earthly treasures behind in France. Oh bugger. I took advantage of a free camping holiday to Port Grimaud (S.France) that young Lochinvar's mother had won in some magazine competition. Obviously to her it really was all about the taking part & not the winning :-) That was as close as I was ever gonna get to my treasures without paying . . . .It only meant spending the week's holiday hitch-hiking from Port Grimaud to a remote village in the Alps, negotiating with my not too happy ex & his even less happy partner. "Yes of course he could keep Fil Colleeens, Zuh poLeece ,Zee rollen Stons" and any others he had bought. I only wanted the ones I had originally brought with me from England, and my guitar, and my teddy, and come to think of it that mandolin hanging on the wall ? . . .Ok maybe not. Then hitching back in the sweltering July sun, along the Cote D'Azur, walking for hours in between reluctant lifts, carrying this lot (I left the mandolin!) Shit man, one Donovan album can weigh 2lbs!!. Abandoning a lift at the entrance to St. Tropez to walk through past hundreds of grid locked cars to the other side. Bonkers. Stark raving bledy bonkers. Arriving back at the camp-site with 4 hours spare to neck a few lagers & a warm bottle of cheap red wine that had sat in the tent all week, nice. Then the hideously stifling coach ride back to England. Which I spent slowly savouring the playlists on the back of the albums, smiling, singing in my head, knowing it had been well worth it. The neighbours knew when I had got back. Twas Bliss. At least I came back.

ps. Just to apologize for editing after posting . . .Just in case anyone has read this . . . .then noticed it change.

Who I am kidding :-)

I'll explain why later . . .

Just a quickie . . .

2011-10-10T11:43:00.005+01:00

I have to find a solution to this . . . I feel so inspired during the day. To the point of jotting down scribbled notes about this n that. Why I might be this way . . . . lots of stuff about changes, that could be, should be, might be, never will be, hopefully will be, made . . . and other observations made through the day. Through a very long, 7am till 9pm, day. So when I do get time after 9, if I'm lucky, 10 or even 11 if not. I'm so frazzled & bedazzled , I can hardly decipher the notes, let alone remember what they led to and feel the enthusiasm felt earlier on. Partly due to my daughter, who I will refer to as Hamper G ( as started @ The G&W GW*)still being at home. Yes Hamper G should have started school this September. Thanks to greedy fools building too many new houses . .with no thought to amenities . .there are no places left in our **"catchment" school.
So after looking forward for the last year, or four, to the end of being a 24/7 mother . . . yes I know I had the children blah di blah . . . but more on that another day. I'm now faced with a few more terms?, years? who knows how long? of fulltime mummying . . what a thought. I never had (pre-kids) maternal feelings & dint yearn for them. I love them, of course, not to bits -I hate it when people say that- but I do love them a bit :-). I did worry, once upon a time, that I might not . . anyway another day, another story, or four.
So where was I, O yeah no time during the day . . . too tired & stoned at night. Hmmmm.
I will find a way round this because I'm enjoying the "being forced to think" thing & looking forward to changes, which as I noted last night, have already begun.
Just one more thing . .I sounded like Columbo when I said that. As much as I loved Latin & French at school & still love foreign languages now. I couldn't see why we had to study English . .as far as I was concerned we knew English. Now I see can see some of the why. (that's such a good example of why-that I aint gonna change it)

*See the hamster in my box of (2) followers :-) thats for anyone who has not come here from GW site. Thanks for the link Gledwood, dont we just love him? There are some readers who have come from elsewhere . . not sure where, but I'm gratefully receiving any readers from anywhere :-)

** NB. Rabbit ears! ie " these things" inverted commas. I use them a lot . . too much. I dont "do" them with my fingers when I talk . .God forbid . . It's one of my pet hates. Along with loving people, animals etc to bits. there are a few . . another day. Its nearly 12!! I gotta go. Thanks for reading :-)

A battered silver bangle

2011-10-10T00:13:00.003+01:00

Anyway sat here a bit frazzled . . . everyone else has finally gone to sleep . . . No one is watching "The only way is Essex" but its on . . I aint seen it before . The girls r having a slumber party (boy it looks fun) & asking each other what's the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for them . . .which got me thinking . . One of them, a silver bracelet I am still wearing 19 years later. From a beautiful, wild, impulsive, welsh boy who was ten years younger than me at the time . . .I knew he was gay (despite his constant denial) but I also knew we would be together for a while . . . . .For us to live together at the time meant him finding some work here. His skills were sailing & boat building . not much of that around where I was based at the time . . .so he took what was going . .a job in a dry cleaners with four middle aged women who knew everything about everyone in the town . . .what they dint overhear or get told, they worked out from the stains & odours on the customers clothes/sheets/cushion covers etc. Perish the thought. Poor lad. He was so out of his comfort zone in shirt.tie & a pair of too short polyester trousers we had managed to find in a second hand shop the day before, so he could start the job.First week's wages in poly pocket, with no thought of whether we needed any of the money for rent, food etc, he went straight to the jewellers on his way home and chose this bracelet. . .how sweet.
Four crazy, eventful,years later (when my desires for a "manly" man (see twat) got the better of me) I finally dragged him out of the closet . .we split, not painlessly but amicably, and he went to be with a lad he had fancied since he was eight!!. . they are still happily married! and he's still sailing. Ahh aint that nice?

A twinkle in the eye?

2011-10-10T00:09:00.001+01:00

As usual , things that happen., however shit they seem at the time, nearly always prove to be for a good reason . . . a week on I am real glad I felt yuk & down for those few days last week, when this idea was born. Its propa given me food for thought . . and even a slight spring in my step! like having a new lover or baby . . I hope the novelty buzz lasts longer though :-) Its already cut my smoking down, as the only time I can sit & sit and type out these thoughts is at night. If I smoke my usual amount (of gear) I've found I can't think or type much .Could it be this simple? No, obviously not , but its one good thing ..A couple of people have remarked on me looking/seeming better, happier since last wednesday. That my eyes seem more open ?!! My mum (78) asked me . . "Have you got someone on the go?!" And shes not asked that once in my 5 celibate years. So something must be different . . some new kind of twinkle in my eye? .Or just the usual glint that goes with the full moon.

Feelings . .

2011-10-08T08:54:00.004+01:00

Yey, pretty good day (friday . .as I fell asleep before I posted . . .again) in a normal kind of way . . .supermarket for the main weekly shop.Chemist for weekly methadone. Picked up brother's dog for the weekend & came home to cook a proper Spaghetti bolognaise. Started to feel excited at about 4 ish . .Happy excited. No idea what I was excited about. I put some music on as I was cooking which I aint done for years (music on - not cooking :-)). This writing "milarky" is making me look more, notice more & question more . .? Such as,why has heroin ruined my relationship with music, both listening & playing? Pre-H there was a constant soundtrack to my life, day & night. I love music, lyrics & singing. I need to get this back. Maybe it was the music exciting me earlier, Good. So why was I in such a rush to dampen it? I gotta work out why I do this. And I will.
Part of it could be that I can't trust my emotions when I start to withdraw. I dont mean longterm withdrawals. Just when my methadone/gear levels are low for whatever reason. Couple of years back, one of the many times I was unscripted, & waiting, rattling . . .I got a sudden crush on David Dickinson!?!. .is that his name? That mahoghany antique fella . . .scary eh? sick? O I was sick alright! No wonder I nip my "feelings" in the bud. I have had some major disasters where men are concerned. Dysfunctional would be an understatement.But David Dickinson?? I still cringe when he appears on tv. Ok I was asleep there. I need to find some time during the day to write. Im way too tired. I'm gone

Obsessive Compulsive Sock Disorder

2011-10-07T09:19:00.002+01:00

Managed 0 to 60 over a few hours and by 7pm had worked myself into a laughing, shouting, multitasking, multimooded frenzy . All or nothing. Everything had to be done. Madness. Obsessing over, among other things, an odd sock. When it comes to my obsessing, an odd sock is a fine target. . . none of the "other things" mattered. Ok I did specifically want that pair (long fluffy bed socks for daughter) but it got ridiculous, any other socks would have done by then (8pm ish so was peaking frenzy-wise) . ."I know they were both on that table the other day so it can't have gone far . .can it? It cant have left the house can it? No. So that only means searching the house? and then what . .the garden? surely not . . ? Yeah but I could've dropped it outside on the way in from the dryer in the shed. Ok, so go look then. Its pitch black & raining so it wont be much use tonight if you do find it out there . .but go on. Far be it from me to stop you now. So I do go, all the time having an "out loud" conversation with myself, I suppose, about how there was no point looking out there and how I was wasting my time. But the "me" who I was trying to tell just kept on looking and would not listen.Racing back in through the kitchen, eyes scanning everywhere, I saw a vinyl bag full of fluffy teddy/dolls clothes . . . ".No it wouldn't have got stuffed in there when I was tidying earlier . . .No way . You're not seriously gonna empty that lot out and go through it are you? Oi? Are you? It wont be in there, why would it?" and it wasn't. Utterly pointless. "Ok so I'll just forget the fluffy bedsock, it doesn't matter , I need to stop now anyway. My head is spinning with it all." My mind was running ragged,jagged with the sock, bath, towels, jarnies, sock? toy rat*, talc, window shut, drink, blah blah sock? The Coronation Street theme tune in the background was having a sort of "pavlov's dog" effect on me.Salivating for a mouth full of bitter sweet smoke. Meaning rapid de-celaration was within necessary reach. . . . .In fact I feel so far removed from that jaggedness now that its hard to even remember the extent of it & feel how urgent it felt to stop it . . . next time I gonna write before I "slow down". So tonight* it wasn't so much a reward as a mere calmant . . . .All is calm. I've totally given up on the sock. I dont care if its lying out there in the rain.
(*who has his head poked behind my glasses, singing something to the tune of jingle bells as I try, the following morning, to make this readable)
(*last night, as dint post till this morn . . .was too "calm" last night)

Good start?

2011-10-06T10:42:00.001+01:00

Ok so not feeling quite so "unwell" today. Slight sick feeling . .empty chocolate box. Well there were only 16. Only? Thats a whole other issue that needs to be dealt with . . .weight. Even the word looks foreign to me. I have never had any . . .well basically anything to do with weight. Didn't even weigh myself until about a year ago. Roughly when "the drought" started . .The heroin drought. I could blame any number of things for this sudden 2 stone (!!) weight gain . . . .but that wont shift it will it? sitting on my (ever spreading) arse thinking of reasons why I might have gained 2 stone . .I could gain another one before I know it. God forbid. "It" has to go. I dont subscribe to this middle age spread shit either . . .I am not having it . .not a sodding ounce of it. I'm not sure yet how I'm, gonna get rid of it . . but I am .. .So thats on the list.
Heaps to do today . . .I dont really want to deal with any of it. I want to go back to bed and close my eyes on it all, I know I cant. The worrying thing is that I'm already "bribing" myself into work. In the back of my scheming mind I am thinking . .If I were to spring into action, grab the bull by the horns, and catch up on the unbelievable amount of washing, cleaning etc thats piled up while I had a few poorly days . . .then surely at the end of it all I would deserve a "reward". Yes I know I have to change what I see as a reward . . .but thats easy said. Do you know what one of my drugs "workers" suggested once as an alternative reward . . .A Manicure??? A fucking Manicure . . .And not even going for one . .a DIY jobby. Is that not just more work? Do I look like "nice" nails would make me feel rewarded? C'mon . . .any suggestion has to be better than that.
Ok I'm at least gonna go and earn something by doing some work. Starting by cleaning a thin brown line (no not that sort) off the carpet, where my brothers bledy dog (who I have got for the day) has just shuffled along wiping his arse!! O Lord yesterday started bad enough. I aint exactly house proud & even let him on my "nest" to sleep . .but dog shit?? thats just one of "those" gagging smells. I suppose it will get a cloth and cleaning stuff in my hands . . and who knows what that might lead to.

Bad start . . .Good sign

2011-10-05T23:17:00.001+01:00

Yeah well today was never gonna be a good day to start . .not been too well for a few days now, which has meant my slaving on 16 yr old son has not been up to standard . . .and hit rock bottom this morning when, after getting up at 7am to get his pack up ready, I realised we were "out" of cereal bars and pasta salad pots & left what amounted to half a pack up on the table . . .& it was all downhill from there really, down a very steep fast hill, at the bottom of which was an ultimatum . .Learn to control your tongue & temper or move out. After 30 years of relationships with men I decided 4 years ago (just after my youngest was born) enough was enough . . .the bad was outweighing the good. Usually due to there being heroin between us, fooling us it was bonding us closer together while it ripped us apart. Anyhow having got used to this plain sailing, I suddenly find myself living with another male"kidult" who seems to think since he has left school & started work . . .that he is "the man" of the house. And although he came in from work remorseful with a box of chocs . . .I get the feeling that battle is not yet over . . .wearying thought.
So after stopping the tears & emotions with twice my usual amount of gear and justifying it with all the turmoil I decided to try & play around with some blog options. I chose one of my favourite paintings as a header which originally went right across the page . .It wasn't how I wanted it but I was pretty impressed it had even appeared there so wasn't about to mess with it . . . Then wrote a "brief description" to go across the header.This was all a bit trial & error and the next time I viewed the blog the painting had shrunk and the description had been fitted in to it. This wont do . . . or will it? As i sat wondering whether I could be bothered finding out where to go to change it . . .I noticed the sun was right behind the "50" !! This I took as a good sign . .a vey good sign. I could not have planned it and thats how I like it. I dare say if I hadn't just numbed all my feelings I would be feeling hopeful, what a shame. Foolish girl.

Gotta start somewhere . . .

2011-10-05T12:24:00.002+01:00

I dont know where to start . .with this blog . .with my life . . I hope writing about this will help me. If it helps anyone else thats a bonus. If anyone reads this its a bonus!! I'm gonna write as though it is a private diary. If I start thinking "what if mum reads it? what if . . .reads it?" there will be no point me writing any of it. I need to be honest with myself. I have no idea about how to start a blog . .making it look good. . .putting other stuff on it . .etc . . but i'm sure I can learn as I go along. Anyhow thats irrelevant . .I'm 16 months away from being 50!? surely not . .surely so. Not that I think 50 is special or different . .but it feels like a realistic kind of time scale to put some changes in place. Maybe? maybe not? If I look back to 16 months ago that feels like long enough. . .I suppose it depends on how much work I'm prepared to do . . how much motivation . .encouragement . . suffering . .sacrifice . .hmmmm,.
So what are these changes.Where to start? Where do I want to be at 50? or How do I want to be, nevermind where. I feel a list coming on . . .I do love a list. Especially if I'm confident about getting everything ticked off the list . . In this case Im not. I've heard it all before. Well maybe not to this extent but similar . . .I may have heard myself think it all a million times, and sometimes even say it but I haven't written it before. Why I think that might make any difference I've no idea but I have to think something will.
Something has to. I cant go on defending this "life" saying all is well . . .all is not well. I am an addict . . .a heroin addict . . .and I feel stuck.
I am also a mother of three children. I'm a reasonably well "functioning" addict in that I dont have a criminal record . .I have a methadone script in place so I dont have to get "ill" while I wait hour after hour . . .I have reduced myself to one bag a day (of an evening) which all helps me really to justify this life wrecking substance & behaviour. This is probably the biggest change I need to make . . .but there are more.
I suppose if I stop the gear, other changes will happen because of that. I'm not usually this down or serious, maybe I need to be to realise how wrong this is? I dont know. I know I dont want to be sat here in 16 months saying the same things . . .and I suppose thats all I need to know for now. Or is it?

When I grow up . . . .

100 th post.

Let's get down with the trumpets - yeah yeah

De-Goofing

Guilt, gunk and pickled Jalapenos

Goals for this week . . . and one more thing.

Was it daffodils you wanted?

Hello, Hello, Hello . . . . O Hi!

Happy Valentine's Day . . . A love song

The official "It's gone" post.

Just in case you were wondering

So where were we?

Soon we will be dancing the Fandango . . . for Sister Bluebell

No better

Fading fast . . .

Fading

It's 2am again!

Alan Hull . . . and goodnight.

Happy Birthday to me!

A lifeline?

Now that really was lighthearted

A light-hearted interlude ;-)

Big Chief tear wiper

Feeling like this

Very little grows on jagged rock. Be ground.Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up where you are.You've been stony for too many years. Try something different.......Surrender! ~ Rumi

Part two for Annie

Roy Harper I love you

C'mon then . . . Smile

For Gledwood (just a quickie;-)

A Lion in Winter

How Strange . . .

Happy New Year Stranger

Is it over?

Whoa! Hold on a minute . . . What's the rush?

Sorted!

Sorry Babe?!?!

And Relax . . .

YAY! The Real Deal!

Two more sleeps!

Three more Sleeps!!!

Good food

Ding-a-ling-a-ling . . . Santa's here!

Amazing Amazon

No news is good news

Happy Birthday Emma

I want, I don't want.

Just a quickie . . .

I could have been someone . . . and so could anyone!

A tad melancholic

The chicken or the egg?

Just for this morning . . .

Gee Thanks!!

Numbing down to a niggle

Geezer's indigestion

Reasons to be cheerful . . . 1, 2, 3, 4

The dreaded "D" word

Positively lunar positivity

Ok . . . I've said it.

First goal

A fluffy dressing gown fantasy

I don't think so

The truth, The whole truth & almost nothing but the truth.

Not by the hair(s) of my chinny chin chin . . .

Gledwood has pups!! . . .

Too ill to . . .

Now that's what I call . . . Dancing!!

Ok it has to be . . . Dr Chawala you are the best!! Thankyou.

The last thing I needed

Leonard Cohen

Shit! Bollox! Fuck! more shit! . . . and then a Prison Visiting Order!

I need a day off.

Something about nothing . . .

Only a fool

To fellow bloggers

A snippet of life.

Coming back to life . . . . the recovery of some feelings & a few earthly treasures

Just a quickie . . .

A battered silver bangle

A twinkle in the eye?

Feelings . .

Very little grows on jagged rock. Be ground.
Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up where you are.
You've been stony for too many years. Try something different.......
Surrender! ~ Rumi