Donkeys, Bucket and Spades and would you like to see mine boobies?

I went on holiday with mines mother and mines father and mines little sister. Not mines teeny weeny little psychotic sister with all the kids and the camel toe. Mines other little sister with the issues (nothing wrong with that - we all got some) We had a nice time but I found out there is things you cannot do when on holiday with yours parents. And I discovered no matter how old you get the family dynamics never change and that people don't change, they just get older! For instance when I had my headphones on listening to mines music they stopped me from dancing on the caravan table naked. They said the table wasn't strong enough. But they let mines little sister (with the issues) do it. Then, as some of you know I do spill me dinner down me a lot so I do dine topless. They wouldn't let me do that, especially in the restaurants. Even though mines father did it.

There was trouble right from the start because when we arrived that security guard - 'more than jobs worth ma'am' wouldn't even let me in the camp site without mines mother. I said 'I will show you mines boobies if you will let me in'. But he was a stickler for the rules even though he liked mines boobies. He even took the sticky Murray mint I gave him out of the ashtray (mines Mr Husband sucked it previously and spit it out and I put it in the ashtray and saved it for emergencies). Still 'more than me jobs worth ma'am' wouldn't let me in. I even kicked him on the shin and tried to distract him by pointing out a stray crocodile on the golf course. His head was not for turning. I think he wanted to see mines boobies again. Another man who was 96 turned up to get in. No 'more than me jobs worth ma'am' wouldn't let him in without his mother. Then as it turned out mines mother and father was lost. They rang and said they was lost. I believed them. I gave them directions to find me. I said ' we have a red jaguar and we are parked by the camp site and 'more than me jobs worth ma'am' won't let me in without mines mother, so please hurry up'. Mines Mr Husband said ' for fecks sake they are lost enough, don't you go trying to help, you will make things much worse'. But I do like to be helpful. I told them to turn right at the lights and left at a pub. They asked which lights. And which pub? I said 'how the feck should I know. Just find some and turn right'. Then I heard mines mother asking a passer by for directions. He said he was lost too. I offered to give him directions too but he wasn't looking for me by the camp site anyway. So he was no feckin help to no-one. Anyways it was a miracle they found me and then 'more than me jobs worth ma'am' let me in. Then we all got lost - if you have seen one caravan you have seen them all. Mines father spent ages trying to get into the wrong caravan, number 55 until I pointed out that I think that we should try 95 because it said on our bit of paper that ours was 95. I let mines sister have the big bed in a room of her own because she snores and farts. I just milled around like Goldilocks trying them all out all the week.

On Sunday me and mines little sister (with the issues) sat in the big deck chair - she made me do it. We had to get the life guard to get us out. Well we didn't really need him to. We weren't that stuck but we liked him (he was hotty tottie and I if I had found him in my bed I would have given a week to get out)  We thought it would be nice if he could man handle us. Then mines little sister (with the issues) played tipping point in the arcade. I went round and took all the monies out that people had forgot to collect. I have come home a whole penny richer. My son taught me how to do that.

 On Tuesday we went to the marshes to see the birds. I dragged mines parents and mines little sister (with the issues) along because its nice there. After all that dragging mines arms was feckin' achin'. Dragging three peoples is heavy. Just glad they was alive. I gave some bird food to mines little sister (with the issues) and mines mother to feed the birds and the pigeons flocked all over them and they looked liked the mad bird woman in Home Alone. So I took some pictures. Then a few of them shit on mines mother. She wasn't very excited at that. Then mines mother wanted to pee. She wasn't very happy at having to pay 20pence to pee. She thought that was expensive, so she opened the door and tried to attract a crowd. Not whilst she was peeing you understand. But she wanted as many people to pee for her 20p as possible. She is not very good at drawing a crowd so I said 'let me show you how its done and I started singing and stripping'. That was me first mistake. Not sure I will be allowed to go back there. I said to mines mother 'I didn't know why you didn't use the free loos in the shop just there'. She was spitting feathers by now. That's her own fault for sucking on pigeons. Mines father was going mad because there was a lot of a rats about. 'Kill the rats, kill the rats' he shouted. I told them if they didn't behave themselves I would take them back home. Can't take them anywhere. He came home shouting 'kill the rats'. I think he really got upset at the feckin rats.

Did you know you can be arrested for shouting fire in a restaurant when there is none? Neither did I until Tuesday. Apparently that's not the way to complain about a burnt baked potato. You live and learn you do.

Me and mines little sister (with the issues) had a ride on some donkeys. We chose to go bare back because that's how we roll. We got told to put our clothes on and not come back. So that's not what bare backed means, apparently. Mines donkey buckled anyway. I think he was wonky and his knees was gone. They don't use the best of donkeys for rides. They are the same donkeys that we went on I was three. Well they looked the same. Then we went to the sea life centre. Mines father spent a long time confusing the man at the door and we went in for half the price. Mines little sister (with the issues) threw a tantrum for some candy floss in the sea life centre. I told you she had issues. We let her have some candy floss. Actually it was stuffing for 'build your own bear' but she didn't seem to notice. She has got a bit of a cough now. I think some of it stuck in her throat. Mines father caught some nice fish for dinner. But the man in the sea life centre made him put it back in the tank. I was luckier- I managed to sneak a penguin under me coat for free and now me snow leopards and me wonky donkeys have some company.

Mines little sister (with the issues) went out and got lost and I was sent to find her. She did know she was first of all but got distracted by something shiny and followed that. Then she was right off course. Now I know some of yous will be rolling around with laughter. When someone gets lost- who is the best person to send to find her? Bizzylizzy? Really?? I know I thought that too! I get lost when I got the sat nav. Mind you mines Mr Husband says 'switch the sat nav on'. But I don't. I can't stand that woman who keeps telling me she is recalculating- when you are lost it's no time to do feckin maths. Anyways mines mother sends me off to find mines little sister (with the issues). I thinks mines mother and mines father just wanted some peace and quiet and hoped we would stay out for a long time. They told us to look for the gingerbread house. Anyway mines little sister was so easy to find because she was stood in the middle of the road crying-' I've lost me mammy and I've lost me daddy'. She was attracting quite a crowd. I took her hand and gave her me snotty hanky to wipe her tears and then I took her hand and took her round the houses- well the caravans. Then we was both lost and stood crying .............well I wasn't. I just wanted to be rescued by the life guard again. He turned out to be a real treasure that life guard. I am considering employing him to do life saving around the house.

Since I have been home I didn't realise how ungrateful some peoples can be. It is tradition to bring back souvenirs from a holiday. As mines Mr Husband couldn't come and stay on holiday with me I found him some souvenirs. Some things from the beach. A rusty cola can and a few paper bags and a MacDonald's plastic thingy to put his burger and bun in. He likes burgers and buns so he does. Then I found a crabs leg and spade handle. If he collects enough bits like this he can make his own bucket and spade set eventually and this is money saved. He usually praises me for saving money. Also I brought him back a pheasant- bit squished it was but t'was good of mines father to stop in that stream of traffic for me to pick it up. I gave him all these on my return- he was not impressed. Feck I shan't bother again. I think it was the dead badger that pushed him over the edge and made him cross. Personally I think he should think himself lucky thems dead badgers are hard to find round here.

The Eclipse and the Colander

That man on the news in Newquay said we needed a travel colander to see the eclipse - (note to self: must get travel colander in order to strain peas on the go), so Friday morning I set off. I ran round like a loon. 'It's the eclipse', I shouted all excited at MMH. He looked sleepy but he usually likes to get up to see what I am up to now. (The devil also stirs at this point- when I open my eyes). I ran down the stairs and grabbed my non travelling colander and me kitchen devil just in case the sun didn't reappear and I needed to sacrifice someone to appease the Gods. MMH was right down the stairs behind me. 'Oh no, what you doing now?' he asked- he sounded somewhat exasperated but he often does. 'I am going to see the eclipse- the best place is Newquay and I have no time to lose'. Mines husband shouted after me 'ye can't go out like that'. I looked down- I had me socks on (although there be no time for orgasms today), I had me teeth in. No time to worry about me mittens and I didn't need me hat today. I had me colander and me kitchen devil. He thrust me camera into me other hand and off I ran. I didn't get far though. Feckin policemans stopped me at the roundabout. Me own fault because I procrastinated at the roundabout and it's against the law on a roundabout. Then I went round it the wrong way. Uh oh. That was when I ran into the policemans. He wanted to know where I was going - he told me 'you again- you broke the law again. Going round the roundabout the wrong way'. At least I didn't take the car with me!  No matter he said - twas still against the law and I was still in trouble and then he said 'Is that a kitchen devil in your hand?' It was indeed I told him. 'Where de ye get it?'. The impertinence of some policemans. 'Amazon, £2.99. Cheap at half the price'. I told him. He wrote that down. Said he would make a note for Mrs Policemans. 'I suppose you are going to tell me off for coming out without me clothes' I said, 'but this time I am in a hurry to see the eclipse'.

'You and every other fecker on the planet' he said. 'I am arresting you and taking you to the station'. So please guys, sorry about this but I need bail money fast. I am supposed to be going on holiday today for adventures. And just so you know- apparently its against the law to wear ones colander on ones head back to front- it obscures your vision and strains your eyes!

Socks and Guttering

I am sure some of MMH socks have dementia- they seem to forget the buddy system when getting in the washing machine. He had some nice coloured socks with smiley faces on. Now some of them are looking a tad sad. I think they need a good talking to and then this would avoid the problem of sad socks.

Talking of MMH I have noticed that whenever he goes to the bathroom for to shave his hairy chin he leaves puddles of water all over the bathroom. Now this is no fun for me - I do clean it up because I am a wife and it's on my list of jobs- looking after MMH- although I do make him wipe his own arse. I have gone in and stood in this now cold puddle with my clean dry socks on (yuk) and its very annoying when you slide in it and do the splits and you end up with one of your legs wrapped the toilet and the other jammed up half way up your back with your nose flat against the shower door. I thought how curious this man makes so much mess. So last week I sneaked in and watched him. He takes the flannel and soaks it with water and soap and without wringing excess water off he wipes it all round his chops, and the water runs all down his arms and drips off his elbow all over the bathroom floor. I have tried instructing him on wringing out flannels and cloths before but alas it is too much for his brain to process. Poor love. Anyways I have come up with a plan- I am getting guttering fitted to his arms. If anyone knows where I can get this kind of guttering- husband arm guttering then I should be happy to know. Meanwhile I have to go now and clean the bathroom floor.....................

Moses and Mothers Day

It was mothers day. Moses came out of the burning bush. He told her to stay put. It was Mothers Day and he would have to go and visit his mother. She would be cross if he didn't show up. She would think he didn't love her. One year he took her two loaves and five little fishes. 'What the feckin hell do you suppose I should do with these?' she asked. She didn't seem very grateful he thought. 'I thought we could have fish finger sandwiches, my favourite', he replied. 'And I thought as its mothers day you would take me to Aarons restaurant for a proper meal like all the other mothers' she cried. 'I am sorry' he said remorsefully, 'I will make it up to you next year' and he gave her a hug. He thought she was ungrateful if truth be known. He had lugged that feckin stone for miles across the desert and he had inscribed  'Happy Mothers Day love from Moses' on it. There was blood, sweat and tears on that stone. He did however make small allowances because she did suffer with melancholy quite bad some times. So bad he didn't want to spend time with her. He didn't realise that she was melancholy because she didn't have her son in her life much anymore. Many years passed. He was soooo busy with stuff he didn't realise how much time had past-infact he had been in the wilderness past forty days. But now he set off, across the hot dry wilderness. He took his mother some Manna and Banana loaf from heaven, (her favourite), a much easier stone to carry with Mothers day carved into, (she had given herself a hernia lifting the last one onto the mantle shelf) and he got her a couple of little lizards to keep as pets. What mother doesn't want a lizard on mothers day for a pet? He got to the sea and he said his magic words and waved one of the lizards about for a bit and then he got a boat and went to the other side. When he got to his mothers house it was Christmas Eve. But, alas, sadness awaited him. His mother had died three years before .Moses was bereft. He knew he wouldn't see her again now. He thought of all the things his mother did for him, not just when he was growing up but as a young man and a married man. All the times she helped him when he didn't have a stone to put in the gas meter or enough stones to pay the rent. All the school plays she sat through and laughed and clapped- even then he made out he could he part the sea. He thought about all the times she tucked him up in his little basket made of reeds and all the times she sat stitching his fig leaves back together when he had carelessly torn them.  All the times she nursed when he was sick and all he needed was a miracle. It was she got all the stones together for him to go theology school. She had scrimped and saved. And he neglected her. Some years he forgot mothers day. Some years he forgot her birthday. Some years he was just plain mad at her for taking time out to care for herself or making him stand on his own two feet. Sometimes she had said no and because of this he was cross with her. But now she was gone. She was old and alone and needed her son but he never replied to the pigeons she sent with the notes- come and see your old mother son before it's too late. He was always to busy in that damn burning bush. The moral of the story is- You only get one mother. She is the one who puts her life on the line bringing you into the world and many times after that. She is the one who lies awake at night worrying over you, holding and protecting you. She is the one that guides you with loving care and neglects her own needs into the bargain. She needs you as her age progresses and her health deteriorates. Even when she has had to make you stand on your own two feet she never stops loving you. Her love is endless and unconditional. Go and give your mum some love. Not just on Mothers Day- but all through each and every year. A neglected mother hurts sooooo much and one day she will gone and you will never replace her. Go on- give her a hug!

Gifts for Mines Mr Husband

Often when my husband goes out alone he brings me back a little something nice to cheer me up or simply because he loves me. I don't go out often my own because for one thing I don't have a car and secondly I can't walk far (dodgy hip thing) and thirdly there are no shops, it's all country side and MMH worries about the traffic, strangers and the potential rape murder thing. No matter how many times I tell him I won't rape or murder anyone and when I cross the road I do my green cross code! And as for stranger danger I don't see anyone to be a danger to. On top of all this I don't have any money. Well when I say I don't have any money I do have a pound (ssh I found it when it fell out of MMH jeans one day when I did the laundry- finders keepers and all that). I won't spend it in case I have an emergency - then I can buy a bar of chocolate with it. You can face any emergency with chocolate and a nice cuppa Yorkshire Tea. Yesterday I went for a walk to the post box - not to admire the post box you understand- I did have a letter to post. I am not that odd. I thought wouldn't it be nice if I could take a present back for MMH. Because I love him, not because he needs cheering up. That takes much more skill- one that only I seem to possess. But having no shops and no money I thought all would be lost. I didn't want to go far because I didn't have shoes on. Then as luck would have it I spied a dead bird. Prayers answered. So I brought that back for him. I have brought back things from other walks when I have been in the countryside. He now has a nice collection : bunch of snowdrops (dead), some interesting rotted leaves and a feather, a nice round shiny hub cap (thought he would be pleased with this because first Mr Husband would have been over the moon with this - I thought all men liked stray hub caps), an empty cd case (with dodgy hinge), a size 11 trainer (no lace) and now he has two dead birds (found him one the other day and I think the one I found yesterday was the other of the pair). When he brings me chocolate I think I show sufficient gratitude in one way or another .......... Did he show me any gratitude for rooting around in hedgerows and ditches for him to bring him said selection of gifts? No he feckin didn't. He said ' For chuffin hells sake woman, what are ye? A Jack Russell? Stop bringing back dead birds and other such rubbish'. I was hurt. Cut to the quick I was. It's been a long tradition in our family to collect stuff- well it said on the census my ancestors were scavengers but I think that word is too strong. Collectors of interesting artefacts is a much nicer term. Anyways I shan't be bringing anymore gifts to him that I have collected on walks. He can fetch his own feckin dead birds from now on!

Ivor, Issues and Damp Patches

I bet you been a wonderin what I been up to this week. Well I tell ye. First I had these feckin antibiotics and I ain't known whether I been Arthur or Marther all the week. Plus I have had mines Mr Husband home to keep me eye on. But today been a different matter. It has been the time when the little chap from the agents do come to the house to check its all tickety boo and I ain't growing weeds. The weeds can't get through all them there feckin stones out the front since the landlady put them everywhere and stopped me planting bulbs and burying bodies. So today they sent a different chap- since I told that one I loved him by accident they keep sending different ones. Today we had little ol' Ivor from Wales- although I don't be thinking he came all the way from Wales to see me. He was very polite and took his shoes off at the front door. The first thing he asked was if I had any issues. Did I have any issues? Well where to start was the problem. Good job he brought his A4 notebook I thought.  Anyways being Bipolar and having Aspergers and the fact the MMH won't let me have a joint bank account and I think that only makes us 95% married, with him weren't the kind of issues he had come to discuss but he suggested a psychologist and relate. I said 'well if you think you need one of them two then you should go'. He said he meant for me- cheeky devil. Then he started poking around looking at stuff and making notes. Then he went out the back and asked me if I had a problem with the roof- did I have any tiles loose? I told him I thought we had already discussed me seeing the psychologist and he said he meant on the top of the house. I told him I didn't know- I can't see the friggin roof from inside and I don't get out much. Then he said ' I need to go out but I don't have my shoes on'. I just looked at him and said 'Well you took the feckin things off you stupid boy'. I wasn't running round getting his shoes for him. I ain't married to him. So out he went in stockinged feet. Well blue socked feet to be precise and tiptoed through the wet grass to look at the roof. Then he came back with wet feet and asked me if he could go upstairs- I went with him. I never let people with wet feet wander around my house alone. I tend to sometimes leave a square or two of chocolate around (quite by accident-I wouldn't abandon chocolate on purpose- get a grip) and I don't want anyone pinching it. (I have read about estate agents stealing chocolate!). On the landing again he asked me if I had any issues. What is it with this man and wanting to know about me issues. All well until I tell him! Before I could get started he said he meant with regard to the house. I told him about him at number 5 with the ropey cock and all the noise he makes and the traffic is a bit noisy and too fast and that bus stopping opposite gets on me tits. He told me they were not issues he meant and he could do nothing to help. Well why bloody ask! He changed the subject by cooing over the jacuzzi. I told him it was a waste of space and feckin nightmare when the pipes slimed up. Then he moved into the MMH's bedroom and he asked me if I had a damp patch. I told him my damp patches were mine and MMH's business and no-one elses and then he wrote in his notebook again. Then I managed to corner him in my bedroom under that friggin mirror on the ceiling. He had a little swing on it and then he wanted to look in the cupboard to see if he could find a damp patch. The man was obsessed with feckin damp patches. He couldn't reach the knob and I offered to lift him up but he declined. I told him I have trouble reaching knobs as well sometimes. Especially if they happen to be zooming past. (Joggers and such like-MMH trying to get out the house to get to work!!). I chatted to him for a long time then- there's no escape in the corner of my bedroom- Haha. Eventually he squeezed passed me and down over the stairs and apologised for disturbing me. 'Its ok' I said 'I have been disturbed a long time and it's so nice to have some company'. He shook my hand and said 'well Mrs Lucas' (cos that's my name)- 'well Mrs Lucas, maybe we could get a rota and come and see you more often'. That sounded like a plan to me. I held his hand tight and told him how nice that would be. He struggled free and took his phone out and said he needed to photograph my damp patch in the porch- well I told you he was obsessed. I said 'this is most irregular- MMH won't be liking this when I tell him'. I said I had issues with slimes and squirms hence the copper tape and would he like to hear about that. With that he grabbed his shoes putting them on as he was going down the path. I called after him that I hadn't shown him inside the garage- they always check the garage to see if I am growing weeds in there. But its only gladioli bulbs because of the fracas I had with the landlady over bulbs in the summer. He shot off (I blame the damp patch- he really had a thing about the damp patch) and I think that's the last I will see of little Welsh Ivor I guess. Shame really, I was just about to tell him about my sisters Issues.

Understanding Me!

I love writing my blogs and I love making people laugh. Some of my adventures may or may not be real- I will let the discerning reader discern. However, this blog post is of a more serious nature. The sad woman behind that fake smile. The sad woman behind the fun blogs. You know how they say that the comedian usually puts on a front and suffers with depression- well it's that one! But sometimes a blog like this may switch on a light in someone else's brain. I am going to try to explain how I feel over a couple or even three blogs. It may even go to four. Thats the thing with me - ya never know! So here is how it is.....................

TEARS AND LAUGHTER

Sometimes I want to jump and down and wave my knickers in the air. Other days I want to curl up in a ball and just cry, and cry and cry. And other days I want to just die. Some days I can have all these emotions in an hour. Mostly I just sit, waiting for time to pass me by. Or waiting for Mines Mr Husband to wake up after a night shift. No loud telly. No phone calls. No vacuuming or singing or dancing or music. Just sat quietly, patiently waiting. Then when he gets up we just sit quietly- he in his corner and me in mine.  Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with us. It's how we are. I am the talker. I do most of the talking. He does the listening and the grunting. Then I cook dinner and he goes off to work and I sit alone with the last of the summer wine- that's the tv programme set in the Yorkshire Dales- not left over fermented grapes in a bottle! Then I go to bed and I try to stay awake until I am so tired I sleep all through the night. Sometimes I wake up in the night. I think about stuff. Stuff that I can find a reasonable answer to in the day time. Am I on the right path? Is it right my kids should go on punishing me for leaving twelve years ago? Will I ever have a proper relationship with them? Will I ever be allowed to see the grandchildren I religiously send cards and presents too throughout the year? Will I ever hear my eldest tell me that he loves me again? Then, as if that's not enough I worry about my niece and how she is coping and then I worry about the state of the world. Will the Russians get us? Will the terrorists gangs from the middle east get us? Will I burn in hell, or will I be turned away? And mostly will I ever be well again and well enough to work, or will mines Mr Husband just tire of me and swap me for another baggage with issues? Then it all mixes up in a dream and I wake in a cold sweat only to start the whole damn process again. Mines Mr Husbands days shifts are better because I am able to sing, dance, vacuum, watch telly and have sound with it. I can even drop pots and pans if the mood so taketh me!

Mines Mr Husband wants to understand me, and how I feel and most of all he wants to know how to help me. Is there help for someone like me? I feel so sorry for him that I wonder if he would be better off without me. How awful for the man to have to try to gage everyday whether today its going to be up day or a down day. This time of the year is hard. The weather is dreary and cold and I can't go and take photographs. I can't even get decent photographs of me tits in the garden, but there are still a few Robins about. Also we are approaching mothers day and all I keep thinking is it will be miserable again - just like all the other mothers days since I left my adult kids with their father in the middle of my breakdown. I think I want to die mothers day- yeah that will teach them - they will always remember me on mothers day then. It would be unfair to say they never bothered at all- last year I was told 'there are presents and cards here if you want to come and get them'. Well, NO, I Bloody don't. I shouldn't have to chase around for cards and presents. They should be loving and considerate enough to come and bring them to me. I am an hour down the motorway - not the other side of the feckin world. The year before last the youngest two and their partners came bearing gifts and stayed all day. It was a lovely day, only marred by the fact I didn't see my eldest and my grandchildren, but its a cross I have to bear. In 2009 when I returned to the West Country to live all three of them spent equal parts of the day with me and I had a lovely dinner out with my eldest and the grand children. It was lovely. I would have treasured that day more than anything even more if I had known how miserable mothers days would be from now on. And I know, its my own fault and I have to be punished. You never think your kids will punish you or hurt you when they are little and you are holding them tight at night and snuggled up. But they can and they do. I think I could dance and sing and wave me knickers in the air if things were different. If they loved me I could. But I would still have Aspergers and I would suffer with manic depression or bi polar disorder- whatever the fancy words are these days for being a nut job. Cos thats what them there peoples think of us people with crazy heads. I don't want to have moments when I am covered in dark swirls of cloud with the over riding voice saying 'you should just go and kill yourself. You won't be missed. They won't care'. I argue with this over riding voice. I try to reason with it. 'They do love me probably and they would feel a bit sad surely? And what about my parents? And what about mines Mr Husband? He tells me I am beautiful and he loves me, even though I don't know how'. And then the over riding voice says- 'You know the kids won't even know unless Mr Husband tells them- they really don't care. They wouldn't even go to your funeral. Your parents are old and they won't be around forever and your brothers and sisters don't care anyway because they think you are demonic and that's why they don't speak to you anyway. And Mr Husband is practical and he will get on with life. In fact he won't have any trouble replacing you. There are loads of nut jobs out there'. Then I crash to my knees and I sob my heart out because I don't know what the best thing to do is. But I do know I have figured out the how to do it if I get to that point. I have found now that if I bake when I feel like this the smell of the cakes sometimes lifts my mood. Who doesn't feel better at the smell of freshly baked cake? Then the mood can lift and I can be happy as Larry. I want to tell Mr Husband why and how- how can you explain to someone else when you can't understand it yourself. I know its better for me to be outside in the world where there are other people doing stuff, but I don't want to be with other people doing stuff. They get too close and I can be as friendly as the next if I have to be, I can talk the hind legs off a donkey. I am not afraid to tell people anything about me. I can tell them I suffer with depression and that I need to be locked in my own world with no outside noise. But then they back away. Whoa- too much to handle. Or they console you by saying 'well we all have down days'. That's ok then. Why don't you tell me a friggin joke as well!! What we don't all do is find ourselves in a big black pit that you can't climb to the top of. And what really annoys me is when someone is unkind or sharp with me when I am feeling low- it just tips the balance. I am liable to burst into tears at any given point. Some people can shrug that off. I used to think I was that kind of person. My mother used to say about me ' she got skin like rhinoceros' that one. Or she would say I had 'heart like stone, a swinging brick'. But I just thought I knew how to keep my emotions in check when I needed to and now I know that its not that I don't have empathy or feelings - I just don't know how to express them. I am pragmatic about death. It happens. Like shit. Its sad but it happens and we have to go on living with it. Of course I miss people that I have lost and I feel sorry for anyone who has lost someone. But it's what we do after we have finished our business here on earth- we die. I get it.

Missing A Body

Most people who know me know I am not a panicky person in a crisis. I am more likely to assess the situation and make a cuppa tea. Most things can be solved with a bit of calm and a cup of tea. And nine times out of ten its the right thing to do because it's usually a storm in a tea cup and very rarely a tsunami. In which case there is little one can do and panicking is fruitless. And lets face it who wants to die panicking? Anyways I will tell you about the day, a few years ago, I panicked. Mines Mr Husband, before he was mines Mr Husband, was in the office and I was in the lounge (gee we are posh). We did have a big house at that time. I thought he was very quiet, although he doesn't make much noise really- well unless he's backfiring- then we all know about it. So I went to check on him- you know like you have to when a small toddler goes really quiet. When I looked in at him- I was shocked and scared and I panicked. He was slumped in his chair with his face dropped on one side and he was just staring. I went over to him and spoke to him 'oh mines Mr Boyfriend are you ok'. He never moved or spoke. I poked him gently. He never moved. I ran round and round in little circles in such a panic. I grabbed a phone and I tried to dial 999 and the phone wasn't working. I have always had that nightmare ever since I can remember- and here it was happening. I needed to call 999 and the phone was dead. I ran and grabbed another phone and managed to call 999 'Quick, come quick, mines Mr Boyfriend is dead' I sobbed hysterical by now. 'How do you know?' the daft woman asked. I told her how he was, all slumped and his face contorted and starey to the point of scarey and he wasn't using his computer. She told me an ambulance was on the way but meantime I should go in and talk to him and check to see if he was breathing and had a pulse. She calmed me down somewhat and gave me instructions and I gingerly went back into his lifeless body. I got to the room and more shock awaited. 'He's gone, he's gone' I was really getting hysterical now. First I had a dead mines Mr Boyfriend and now I had none. 'How do you know he's gone, have you checked his pulse?' the woman was saying. 'No, you don't understand, he is gone. His chair is empty, the room is empty- his body is gone' I ran out of the house and up the drive and flagged down a passing ambulance. Luckily it was coming to out house because I called for it. In thems there days you didn't have to wait an hour. I ran back in the house with the paramedics in tow telling them he was dead and someone had stolen his body. They looked at me like I was gaga. But it was true. Mines Mr Boyfriend was dead and then stolen. When we got back to the house he was just walking up the hallway still dead- he was a zombie. He couldn't speak and his face was still contorted because he was the living dead. Thankfully these paramedic people are very good and they said 'it's ok, he's not deaded. It seems he had a stroke and we need to take him to the hospital'. Anyways the moral of the story is this - don't leave yours men alone to long at the computer because they may have a stroke without you knowing. Mines Mr Husband was diagnosed with Bells Palsy which is something to do with a little stroke or something and given some pills and sent back home. I don't leave him on his own too long though. And next time he dies I will stick to plan A and make a cuppa of tea first.

Doctors, Camel Toes and Goldfish

Yesterday I went to the Doctors and succeeded in prising some antibiotics from her- it would have been easier to prise lemon drizzle cheese cake from my friend Anna (and that my friends is no mean feat). I tried explaining about my poorly sinuses and how I have battled and all she wanted to know was about the moment in my days when I am engulfed in dark moments that I cannot cope with. For a short time there I was thrown- I don't even know how she knew about it. Anyways I baffled her with long words like bi-polar and aspergers and read me notes me dear. I told her it was a good job that waiting room wasn't packed or she wouldn't have seen me arse for dust. Then I talked to her about the sixties, the merits of moving to the Isle of Wight according to mad aunts, how dangerous Putin is and how I think he has that missing plane. I told her about Auntie Sylvia's cousin Arthur (3x removed on my sisters brothers side), next door neighbours nieces bosses constipated goldfish. (She looked like she was following it). Then I finished telling her about the ingrown toe nail my psychotic sister has on her camel toe. When I started singing wrecking and ball and looking for a space hopper she gave me some antibiotics- yellow and red ones after I specified I am allergic to the yellow ones. Oh and a lovely new white jacket with modern belts and buckles, very trendy too. Then she muttered something about 'don't call us we will call you' and then me 7 minutes were up. Well she did ask! This morning I have a rash and thrush- might have to go back.............