Is it over?

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?

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!

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?!?!

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 . . .

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!

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!

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!!!

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



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!

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

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

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

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.

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 . . .

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!

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

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?

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 . . .

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!!

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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 :-)