Secrets and Lies

Anyone who knows me reasonably well will know that one thing that I find very difficult to deal with is being lied to. According to my family I have a built in lie detector, and on many occasions one or other of the children has indignantly demanded to know how I could tell that they were not telling the truth. It is not an straightforward question to answer, some of it is picking up on clues, such as facial expression, tone of voice, body language and such like, but some of it is just instinct and experience. If things don't add up either it is not the truth at all or not the whole truth.

Sam is much like his dad, if he is caught in a lie his voice gets higher the more he protests. My brother is much the same, but he also becomes indignant and argumentative when challenged, until his voice is within the soprano range and he has to accept defeat. Of course I don't always know when someone is trying to pull the wool over my eyes. The family still laugh about the time when my late husband Eric 'accidentally' bought a full set of golf clubs, managed to keep them hidden for weeks and even packed them in the roof box and managed to take them on holiday with us without me finding out! I was so cross with him when I found out, but with the benefit of hindsight it wasn't such a terrible lie, it didn't harm anyone else and a set of golf clubs really isn't such a big deal. In fact I am glad that he had his golf clubs, you need to live life while you can because you can't always take tomorrow for granted.

I found myself pondering the whole issue of truth and lies rather deeply recently. It seems it is never too late to learn from experience. I have always thought of myself as a very open and understanding person, so I felt hurt and confused when I became aware that someone I trusted had not been honest with me. Sometimes it takes me days to process a situation in my head (the cogs turn extremely slowly at times!) but if I ponder a situation long enough I can usually make sense of it. Gradually I became aware that much of the blame rested with me, it is hard for people to be honest if there is insufficient trust. If you want complete honesty you have to be open to hear the truth and to deal with it responsibly when you get it. People are what matters most, everyone should have the freedom to be their own person and to do things in their own way. We often laugh at my stepfather because he is quite fixed in the way he does things and he always thinks his way is the only right way - even when he is wrong. When I stopped to think about it I realised that my attitude wasn't so very different.

They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but I hope that is not the case. I am finding it much more comfortable to open my mind and to listen and learn than to be kept in the dark. It is usually Robbie who rambles on, but today it is my turn, my thoughts may not make much sense to anyone else, but for me it has been an important, maybe even life changing experience and it has made me feel so much better to reach this point.

Signal Failure?

He really is a slow learner! There was absolute silence all day yesterday, no texts, no phone calls, nothing. I went to bed at a few minutes to midnight and I was sound asleep when the phone rang. It was Robbie, totally oblivious of the time. I had a moan about the lack of contact and he said that there is no signal downstairs, but higher up in the building he can get a signal. On a believability scale that is poor, so poor that it is almost Network Rail rail standard! I was too sleepy to want to talk much especially when there was a danger of straying onto the subject of trains at any moment. I ended the conversation and settled down to sleep again with a crazy image in my mind of all the people at Robbie's meeting wandering around waving their phones in the air trying to get a signal!

Not having Robbie around has it's compensations, it is much quieter and I get to do as I like. I had liver and bacon yesterday, it is my favourite meal but I hardly ever have it because Robbie doesn't like it. I also got two extra hours in bed this morning, I didn't need to get up until 7am, I could get used to that!

Slow Torture! 08.10.07

I have an exceptionally good sense of smell, it became a bit of a legend among my colleagues. We encountered 'nasty niffs' on a fairly regular basis, not only was I almost always the first person to spot them, I could usually identify the precise cause of the pong with cringe making accuracy.

There have been times when my sense of smell has almost driven me to distraction. When Sam was a bit younger he went through a 'spy' phase and for reasons best known to him he stashed some goodies in the pocket of the sofa valance. Very soon I detected the smell of decaying orange, but despite turning the room upsidedown and pulling all the furniture out I couldnt find the source of the smell. It took days before I descovered Sam's stash which included a very sad satsuma. I seem to remember that when questioned Sam mentioned something about survival techniques.

Robbie has learned to put up with my sense of smell, there is no point telling fibs about what he has had for lunch or if he had a sandwich on the train because I always know. There are certain smells that I can't stand, in particular I dislike the smell of alcohol and the smell of onions. I am teetotal and since we have been together Robbie only has the occasional pint when he goes to a gig. Onions prove a bit more of a temptation to him but he doesn't like the consequences - I won't go anywhere near him. On Saturday Robbie decided to have some cheese and chive pretzels as a snack. As a result he stank of onions, and I couldn't even bear him to talk to me because it was so overpowering. It was so bad that I threatened to sleep on the sofa, but in the end I curled up on the edge of the bed, longing for clean air!

I had a bad night and I was tired the next day. To add to my troubles Robbie was in a strop because he still smelled. It gradually diminished during the day and by Sunday evening I was longing for a good sleep with no onion fumes, unfortunately that wasn't to be. Robbie can't stay still to save his life, it is like sleeping next to a windmill! 'Radioactive Man' constantly claims to be too hot and he waves his arms and legs about in such an exaggerated way that it could be mistaken for a Kenny Everett impression! The end result is that I always have to fight for my share of the duvet, and last night I was constantly cold because he kept fanning cold air into the bed. Today I am going to acquire two bricks (don't worry, nothing drastic!) I just want to weight my side of the duvet down. Failing that I am going to buy a sleeping bag!