Every path hath a puddle - George Herbert

When I was thinking of a title for this blog post the quotation above seemed to to be a perfect fit, not least because this week began with a wet and miserable Monday. The cold wet morning came as quite a surprise after an unusually warm September and a surprisingly mild and sunny start to October. It was our ninth wedding anniversary on Saturday and we spent the weekend in Exeter. The choice of destination was a compromise, I had suggested a number of possible places to visit, but Robbie found fault with each one. At first I thought he was just being difficult but it didn't take me long to work out that Baldrick Burgess had a cunning plan to fit in a journey on an HST and he was going to veto every destination until I chose a place that suited his plan. I didn't mind too much, I'm not a fan of HSTs but it's not too much of a hardship and it gives Robbie a lot of pleasure. I didn't appreciate having to get up before the birds, but time together is precious and we were determined to enjoy the weekend to the full.

Robbie at our anniversary meal in Exeter

I like train journeys for many reasons, but perhaps more than anything else I value the thinking time and conversation. It is rare for either of us to sit still for so long with no demands on our time, and it is nice to be still and enjoy having time to chat. As it was our anniversary it is hardly surprising that we were in reflective mood. In a way marrying Robbie was an act of madness, we are a bit of an odd couple and I think a few of our friends doubted our sanity. For me the biggest commitment had been made a year earlier, exactly a year earlier in fact, in the first days of October ten years ago. Robbie and I had been together for just a few months when circumstances took a sudden and surprising turn. He rang me one morning in a state of great agitation, he had just been informed that he needed to take responsibility for his children on a full time basis starting that day. He had a one bedroom flat, which was large enough for his children to stay overnight with him once or twice a week, but it would have proved too cramped and ill equipped for a longer stay and it looked as if the children would be with him for several months. I didn't hesitate, the obvious solution was for them to come to me and so by that evening our three children each had become a blended family of six children. 

There were problems of course, but remarkably few, the children got on well and the Burgess children made the transition to a new school with little difficulty. Coping with six children was a very exhausting experience for me (and for Robbie) but I found it extremely rewarding. At the time my step children were 13, 9 and 5, each one was different but very like Robbie in their various ways. His son often asked to come with me in the car when I went to pick up my daughters from their music lessons or band practice. He was a gentle, thoughtful lad with a lovely nature; he loved to chat and like Robbie he was interested in a vast array of subjects. He shared my keen interest in history and like Robbie he had a passion for films and an eclectic taste in music. We had some fascinating conversations and he enjoyed listening to my music CDs. Robbie's older daughter was a clever and determined nine year old, who seemed older than her years. Like her older step sisters she enjoyed clothes and accessories and she had very firm opinions about what she should wear, in fact she had strong opinions about almost everything. She could be quite outspoken at times, and like Robbie tact wasn't her strong point - her disapproval when we were not having one of her favourite meals was expressed eloquently with just a look and a sigh. Even at age nine it was clear that she had the potential to do well in whatever she chose to do with her life. 

The five year old girl was like a miniature version of Robbie in every way, she looked even more like him than her brother (her sister is much more like her mum) and she had Robbie's ready smile and wicked sense of humour. There was a certain quirkiness about the little girl, she wasn't going to be like everyone else, even at five she had the confidence to be herself whether people liked it or not. I remember taking her to see my elderly aunt one day, my aunt had always enjoyed the company of children and it didn't surprise me that the two of them were soon engrossed in conversation. I popped into the kitchen to put the kettle on and I returned to hear the little girl ask my aunt why she used a walking stick. My aunt explained that she had a poorly hip and she needed the stick to keep her steady. The five year old gave her a thoughtful look and then she asked "couldn't you just try harder?". Clearly she had inherited Robbie's tendency to be a little too direct at times. She had also inherited his strong will and stubbornness, but I had a feeling that these would be a strength rather than a weakness. I already cared deeply about Robbie, and it didn't take long for me to become attached to these bright, lively children who were so like him in their different ways. The months that followed were exhausting and at times noisy and chaotic, but they were happy and all the children thrived. 

So by the following year when Robbie and I married we had already been through an eventful and at times challenging year. It was still a big decision to get married, but we knew that we were strong and that we could cope with the ups and downs of life. We were different in so many ways which made some people think that we were a very odd couple. Perhaps they were right, we’re unconventional certainly, but it works! It hasn't always been easy, we have encountered plenty of challenges over the years, but together we have coped and it has made us stronger. Our lives are still very busy, and Robbie often has to stay away from home on business, so we take time to have fun and to enjoy life whenever we can. We had a lovely trip to Exeter, we stayed in a very nice hotel just a stones throw from the station and it was mild enough for me to have the window open to listen to the sounds of the railway throughout our stay - perfect! 

If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there - Lewis Carroll

I'm fairly used to the quirks and idiosyncrasies of my fellow humans - I have to be, life with Robbie is full of surprises. However I was startled when a rather odd looking man rushed out in front of my car as I drove down the road yesterday. I came to an abrupt halt and the man stood in the road in front of me, turned face the car and saluted! He then engaged in a series of repetitive hand movements as if he was conducting an invisible orchestra, but something about the movements reminded me of the mechanical movements of the figures on the Trumpton clock. Then the man stopped conducting his orchestra, saluted again and marched back to the side of the road enabling me to continue on my way totally bemused by the experience. 

As I drove away I wondered why seemingly insignificant childhood memories such as the Trumpton clock remain vivid in my mind so many years later. My daughter Emily introduced me to Pinterest a while ago and I have to confess I'm addicted to it, I've been creating a album (known as a board) of childhood memories. Pinterest enables you to create and share as many boards and add as many images as you like.  The comics and television programmes of my childhood took up so much space on my childhood memories board that they had to be moved to create boards of their own. Comics played an important part of my life when I was growing up and I looked forward to the arrival of my comics each week with a sense of anticipation which the children of today wouldn't understand. Every issue was read from cover to cover and then saved to be read again another day. Creating that board of all my old comic favourites brought so many memories flooding back.

One of my early favourites was a comic called Treasure which included a beautifully illustrated comic strip about Wizard Weasel who created all sorts of trouble in Princess Marigold Land. I have recently bought a few old copies of Treasure and I realise how wonderful the artwork was, no wonder that it could keep me occupied for hours. As soon as I could read independently I discovered the joys of Beezer, Topper, Sparky, Cor, Beano and Dandy. Cor was my favourite, but I had favourite characters in each of the comics so I read as many comics as I could each week. I liked Keyhole Kate, Beryl the Peril, Desperate Dan, The Bash Street Kids, Mini the Minx, Pop, Dick and Harry and Ivor Lott and Tony Broke to name but a few. I wasn't the sort of little girl who read the Bunty, my comic heroes were all rebels and none of them would be considered politically correct in this day and age. 

One of the characters who has stood the test of time is Minnie the Minx, she looks a bit like a female version of Dennis the Menace but to me she always seemed a bit cleverer and more rebellious than Dennis. I enjoyed her antics but it never occurred to me to copy them, I was a bit of a tomboy but I was a well behaved child and I knew the difference fiction and real life. I think what appealed to me about Minnie the Minx (and some of my other favourite characters) was that she lived life her way, being a girl didn't stop her doing anything. Jim Petrie the artist who drew Minnie the Minx for over forty years (from the beginning of the 1960's to 2001) died at the end of August 2014 and when I read his obituary I realised that I owe a debt of gratitude to the many comic artists and illustrators, whose work entertained us and helped to develop a lifelong habit of reading. The heyday of comics is long gone, times have changed, but Minnie the Minx is still going strong, she was 60 last year - she even has her own statue in Dundee.

'It inspires me, the sea, the limitless skies, the mud and the burning sunsets and the freedom of a place where more than 50% of the neighbours are fish.' - Raffaella Barker

Thursday 8th August

We'd planned to go to Cromer today, but it was such a beautiful morning that we decided that Cromer could wait and we would enjoy the sun and the beach. This is what I dream of all year, the luxury of time, freedom from routine and the peace and tranquility of the Norfolk coast. The huge Norfolk sky reaches down to touch the sea and rhythmic sound of the waves rolling on to the beach and the cries of sea birds are the mood music of the day.

We walked on the beach. I splashed in the surf and looked at the beauty of the sea washed pebbles glistening in the sunshine while Robbie took photos. The beach is a lot lower this year, it is a long time since I can remember the sand being this low. The beach is different every time we come, the level of the sand changes, sometimes as now the tide leaves pools behind at the back of the beach. My children loved the pools when they were little, and seeing the beach like this again brings back so many memories. 

We sat in the garden all day, enjoying the sunshine, reading and relaxing. I wrote all my postcards and caught up with one or two other bits and pieces of writing too. Despite the factor 50, I still managed to catch the sun a little bit, I have stripes on my legs because I was wearing shorts so I will have to try and even it out in the next few days

Write down the thoughts of the moment. Those that come unsought for are commonly the most valuable. - Francis Bacon

Sunday 4th August

Walcott Sunrise

Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny, I got up to go to the bathroom then went to the back window to enjoy the beauty of the morning and the sounds of the sea. Then I crept back to bed, I was tired, it had been a busy few days, and there is nothing better on a Sunday morning than listening to Radio 4 in bed. Sleeping Beauty was still in 'the land of nod', he'd stayed up late last night enjoying the freedom to do as he liked without worrying about an early start in the morning.

It was nice to have a lazy start to the morning, but we weren't going to waste the day - and we weren't going to miss the Archers! We drove back to Mundesley at midday, Sunday lunch at Jonet has become a bit of a holiday tradition with us, this week it was roast chicken. Robbie grudgingly agreed to have a few peas but he left all the cabbage and carrots for me - I love cabbage. We spent a couple of hours in Mundesley, then we came back and sat in the garden until about 8pm. It was a beautiful day.

I have a lot of writing to do while I'm here (I'm writing a book) but I want to have fun too so I've brought a book with me called ' From you to me - A journal of a lifetime' my older daughter bought it for me. It gives lots of questions and prompts to write about my life and hers. With a bit of luck it will help to get the 'grey cells' working so that I can get on with my book. I also have my question and answer journal with me (another gift from my daughter), some of those questions are really challenging. Anyway I made a start on the lifetime journal, it is harder than it looks, but I am enjoying the challenge.

Worry often gives a small thing a big shadow - Swedish Proverb

Today was very frustrating, one of those days when everything seems more difficult than it should be. I had a hospital appointment this afternoon, I'd been looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time. I badly needed some answers but I wasn't sure that I was going to like what I heard, so I felt very anxious.

Robbie came with me and since parking at the hospital is challenging at the best of times, I decided to park in a nearby car park and walk the short distance to the hospital. We still have snow but as the hospital is very close to the town centre I was fairly sure that the pavements would be gritted - they weren't! We slipped and slid towards the hospital very slowly indeed, but we made it without any serious problems. The road and pavement leading to the hospital main entrance were treacherous, it beggars belief that the local authority take no responsibility for making sure that roads and paths leading to hospitals, schools and the like are cleared and made safe. Having negotiated the icy pavements I had to pass a huddle of smokers who blocked the pavement just outside the hospital grounds. I was on my way to the chest clinic and the last thing that I needed was their second hand smoke!

I didn't really get the answers I wanted, just lots more questions, more medication. To be fair he did take my problem seriously and he understood how debilitating this cough is, it makes every aspect of my life so much more difficult. He requested lots of tests including an MRI scan, blood tests (I think they took a whole arm full of blood!) and various breathing tests. I have to see the consultant again in 2 months, I really hope the increased medication will help because the thought of putting up with this for another two months makes me feel like giving up. 

We had to go to a different part of the hospital to get my blood tests don so we walked back towards town a different way, but the paths were just as bad and our progress was slow. We walked through St Giles churchyard, it is beautiful at any time of year but the snow against the white snow-laden skies made it look magical, for some reason it made me think of Narnia. I have happy memories of walking through the churchyard with my aunt when I was a child and it looked so beautiful today that I asked Robbie to take some photos for me with his new phone.

Robbie took me to the Cordwainer for something to eat because I had been too anxious to eat much at lunchtime. He likes Wetherspoons food but it didn't really 'float my boat' and it was so dark in there, I like to see what I am eating. It is scary, but I have to admit that I sound more like my grandma every day!
   

Easter Eggs and Summer Holidays

This morning I found myself asking the cat what the world is coming to. He didn't answer, he was probably lost for words. I have to admit that every year I become a little bit more like my grandmother. As far as I know she didn't talk to cats, but she often told me that the world was going mad - I wonder what she would make of the way things are now. 

The reasons for my frustration were Easter Eggs and summer holidays. Our local co-op had Easter eggs on display on 27th December and I think the media began bombarding us with adverts for summer holidays at about the same time. Surely they could have waited until we had taken the Christmas decorations down! After all the hard work and expense of Christmas all I want is a bit of normality, with some peace and quiet. I don't even want to think about Easter or summer holidays for a while.

On the subject of Christmas decorations, we will be taking them down tomorrow and guess what everyone is too busy to help! After several weeks of decorations it is nice to see the room looking less cluttered, but I always have mixed emotions about packing away the decorations. Christmas is behind us,  another year has begun and I can't help wondering what sort of challenges the months ahead have in store for us. 

We have a large collection of Christmas decorations, some date back to my childhood and the children have their own decorations, I have bought them one every year since they were born and marked it with the year and a few words about milestones for that year. They make up a very special store of memories. Every year before the tree goes up there is a lot of debate about whose angel will go on top of the tree. My angel hasn't been anywhere near a Christmas Tree for years, but she still looks good despite her advancing age. When I was a little girl my mum used to help me to make a new dress and new wings for the angel every year. We made it from crepe paper, scraps of tinsel and foil and she looked just as good as the expensive shop bought angels that have taken her place. It is little things like that which make Christmas special, it doesn't have to cost a fortune to create happy memories.

There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in. ~Graham Greene

I have been working on a project, it is a rather belated project now because it should have been completed in time for my son's 18th birthday on 20th of December, but I was feeling so poorly that time got the better of me. I am creating a photo scrapbook for my son with photos and memories from my son's childhood. 

I spent ages choosing photos, the hardest part was deciding what not to include. Then when they were printed I had so much trimming and cutting out to do that my fingers ached for days afterwards. Now I am busy arranging the photos and creating the scrapbook - it takes ages to get it looking just right, but he is worth the effort. 

As I look at all the photos I can't help wondering where all the years have gone. How did that angelic looking little chap grow up so fast, it only seems like a few years ago that he played a shepherd in the nativity play at nursery and he walked in swinging his lamb around by the tail!

Here is an extract from my diary dated March 2004 when my son was nine, as you can see life with him has never been dull.

"As we were coming back from Music School at lunchtime my son said "I have my usual maths and English homework, but there is something else this week; I have to catch a worm because Monday is take a worm to school day" 
He went on to explain that they are making a wormery. Surely my life is complicated enough without having to go out and dig for worms! I urged him to wait until Sunday afternoon before collecting his worm, but being a boy he just couldn't wait and when I was working in the kitchen he brought in a large worm and put it into my hand. I was prevailed upon to provide a suitable container for it, and over the next hour or so I was introduced to five or six more worms in assorted sizes. 

At teatime all my efforts to change the subject were
thwarted and we were treated to a lecture from my son on the reproductive habits of the earthworm. His understanding of the term hermaphrodite was rather sketchy, and my memories of `O' Level Biology were too limited to be useful. Sam concluded in his deep and serious voice (which always makes me want to laugh) "I think it really means that they don't enjoy themselves very much!"

We had a bit of a disagreement at bedtime when I realised that the little terror had taken the worms to bed with him. When I refused to allow him to have them on his bedside table. He said "mum, you can't put them outside, they are part of the family now" We compromised and they are spending the night in the shed (in their container). I must remember to thank his teachers for completely disrupting our weekend."

My son has always loved animals, so our pets all have a place in the scrapbook. I thought I had got all the photos for the album but Dave the cat had other ideas, I think he wants to make sure that he will be included. He posed for this photo (he is wearing my son's hat) and it is so cute that I have to include it.

If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.  ~Tom Stoppard

No one can confidently say that he will still be living tomorrow. ~ Euripides

I'm not a great fan of new year celebrations, perhaps it is because I'm teetotal, or it could be because Robbie makes me endure New Years Eve with Jools Holland, but I think it is mostly because there is a certain sadness in leaving the past behind and looking forward to what the new year may hold. It is a time when we are reminded of those who will not be with us as we look ahead to 2013. Among them are actors and celebrities who brought us pleasure over the years, we may not know them personally but still we feel their loss and miss them. 

I was sorry to hear that Jack Klugman one of my favourite actors died on Christmas Eve and his death reminded me that when trying to explain to a friend that I am a bit out of touch when it comes to films and actors my son said "everyone that my mum likes is dead" and I have to admit that it is starting to feel like that. This year  we said farewell to Clive Dunn, Eric Sykes, Robin Gibb, Bob Holness, Whitney Houston, Davy Jones, Neil Armstrong, Larry Hagman and a number of others. It is sad to say goodbye, but I am grateful for the memories.

A Sense of Perspective

Last Friday was the last day of our holiday. I didn't want the holiday to end, but I was determined that we would enjoy our last day. Robbie jumped at the chance of another visit to Wroxham Barns, so when we had done all the boring things like last minute shopping and filling the car with fuel we took a gentle drive to Wroxham. 

Robbie wanted to have a look around before going to Uncle Stuart's Brewery for a pint of Summer Ale. We looked at jigsaws, Robbie usually has a new one to take on holiday, but this year he couldn't make his mind up about what he wanted so when he sees one that 'floats his boat' we will buy it. He is rather tempted by a design called Grandad's Attic, but in the end he decided to have another think before buying it. There is method in his madness, if he puts it off for a week or two he knows that he will have a good reason to go to to one of his favourite shops Jeys of Earls Barton to look at jigsaws - and of course they have an amazing coffee shop! Anyway we had a good look around at all the shops and we bought one or two things. Then we went to sit in the sunshine while Robbie enjoyed a pint of Summer Ale and I had a cup of tea. I don't need to say that we had a lovely day, the picture of Robbie says more than words ever could!

We spent the afternoon and evening at the bungalow, enjoying the special atmosphere of the place and wishing that we didn't have to return to reality. In the evening I watched the bats circling around and then I stood by the back gate as it was getting dark and listened to the waves lapping on the beach it was like listening to the heartbeat of the earth. Far on the horizon I could see lights from distant ships sparkling like stars on the sea. I felt very small and insignificant standing there in the darkness but in some way it put the world and it's worries in perspective and reminded me of the things that really matter in life.

Magna Est Veritas

Bat Watching

Sunday was the most amazing day, hot, sunny with just a slight breeze, it was a real beach day but I wanted to fit a couple of other things in as well. We went to have a look at the car boot sale in Stalham, it was a bit too hot and crowded for comfort and despite his protests that he was okay, I could tell that Robbie was in a lot of pain, so we didn't stay too long. We didn't buy much, but I couldn't resist buying a couple old annuals. Treasure was one of my favourite comics when I was little and 50p per annual it was a small price to pay to rekindle old memories. 

After the car boot we took a drive to Mundesley for a wonderful roast dinner at Jonet. I had a feast of vegetables because Robbie only wanted a few peas and carrots so I had all his cauliflower, sweet corn as well as my own vegetables. There is something extra special about a roast dinner when you haven't had to cool it and I really enjoyed it.

We spent a little while in Mundesley, enjoying the beach and soaking up the sunshine, then we took a gentle drive back to the bungalow. We had a walk on the beach and we sat in the garden for a little while. I didn't stay outside for too long because I was afraid of getting burnt, I had sun block on but I still caught the sun a bit.

At dusk we stood outside and watched the bats flying around the garden, I love watching them. They are so quick that it is hard for my eyes to keep up with them, but there is something soothing about watching them

Words From Home

I was very tired after our day on the North Norfolk Railway so we decided to have a quieter day on Thursday. It was another warm sunny day and we were content to stay around the bungalow to enjoy the beach and the garden. We took a gentle drive into Mundesley and had lunch at the Beach Cafe. The beach was packed and as we sat by the cafe window looking out at the beach I saw little children paddling, older children in wetsuits playing on body boards, children with buckets and spades digging holes and building sandcastles and parents and grandparents keeping a close eye on the little ones. It brought back so many memories of holidays with our children as they were growing up. My son loved to dig holes and then he would run backwards and forwards filling buckets with sea water and pouring it into the hole. He would get very angry with the sand for stealing his water and it would take considerable effort to distract him from his futile task, but the promise of an ice cream would usually do the trick. 

My son is now nearly eighteen and he has chosen to stay at home under the watchful supervision of his older sisters. Judging by his texts it sounds as if they have had a rather eventful week

"It was only a matter of time until it went to their heads"  Monday

"Your daughters have a serious Napoleon complex!"  Tuesday

"Please educate L that what she says to me, if said to anyone else, will very much shorten her life expectancy" Wednesday

As the week went on there were several more messages of the same type, including one suggesting that my older daughter's boyfriend deserves a medal! I couldn't help smiling at some of his comments, I guess most eighteen year olds are impossible at times and adding Asperger Syndrome to the mix certainly doesn't make things any easier!

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though sorrow would be made less by baldness - Marcus Tullius Cicero

I was looking for a suitable heading for this blog post and I couldn't resist this one. Yesterday was one of those strange days when you are more consciously aware of the sorrows of the past that are always with you. If life had been kinder it would have been my wedding anniversary. That part of my life feels so distant now, almost like another lifetime, perhaps that is normal it was a long time ago and I was a different person then, younger of course and full of hope. I can't help remembering and wondering what might have been, but I also feel grateful for what we had and for the time that we shared. I can't change the past, I couldn't prevent Eric's death but he continues to live in our memories. Like it or not life goes on, you can't live in the past but you will carry it with you into the future.

Yesterday was also the 30th anniversary of the start of our defence of the Falklands. Yesterday on television there I saw a lot of programmes remembering the Falklands war and those who died. All these years later their families will still feel their loss as keenly as they did then. I would like people to care as much about those who were terribly damaged by their service in the Falklands. People like a friend of mine who survived, but has suffered with mental health issues ever since. My friend and many like him could not find a way to live with the memories, the flashbacks have haunted him and he has carried the grief and suffering with him every day. For too many, this has led to isolation and a downward spiral. It may be hard for us to understand, but we should care and we should never forget the true cost of war. 

Pyjama Problems

Robbie had a better night last night, partly because he didn't dare to go to bed until it was almost time to get up! I know he must be feeling as tired as I am because trying to wake him up this morning was like trying to wake the dead. I think it's a minor miracle that he managed to get to the station in time for his usual train this morning. I am rather worried that he will be sound asleep by the time he gets to New Street, but hopefully it will be a service that terminates there and he will not wake up to find himself heading further north!

On the subject of sleep my son has a problem. Most people think that being one of only a handful of boys at a girls school would be a dream come true, but it can cause unexpected problems. On Friday his school have a pyjama day to raise funds for something or other. He doesn't possess any pyjamas, he usually wears boxers in bed. He does have a onesie but he claims is skin tight and it would attract too much attention if he wore it to school. So it looks as if he will have to pass on the PJs and just go to school in his normal clothes. Chatting to him about this reminded me of a PJ related incident when he was about eight or nine and trying to be very grown up. At 17 he doesn't like to be reminded of the things he did when he was younger but I treasure all those funny little memories.  

2004
There was a funny little episode last week with S. A couple of days before he went to his first sleepover he said he absolutely had to have some deodorant – Sure for Men Sensitive to be exact. We went to get him some deodorant, but while at the shop he asked for FCUK pre shave face wash. I pointed out that he doesn't shave but he said "it says pre shave, and I will shave one day so it is ideal for me". He went to the sleepover with his grown up toiletries and his new leather jacket looking really cool. A couple of days after he got back I asked him if his mates had been impressed by his grown up stuff. He gave me a long stare, then in a very serious voice he said "you spoiled the effect mum, you packed my Buzz Lightyear pyjamas!" 

Hearing is one of the body's five senses. But listening is an art. - Frank Tyger

When people ask me why I write the blog, I often tell them that if I didn't write about it I would probably kill Robbie. That is just a joke, I love Robbie very much and I would never do anything to hurt him, but there is some truth in the idea that writing about an issue is a way of processing it. I have written a blog for at least 10 years and even before that I wrote about my life in letters and diaries. Looking back it is true that at some points it was a way of helping me through the difficult times, but mostly it was a way of enjoying and preserving the special little moments of life. This little moment came from March 2004 when my son was 9


"This morning was a bit of a challenge; 'nameless son' had his usual tummy ache and was even more reluctant than usual to get ready for school. He had tried to draw my attention to his suffering and became frustrated when I hardly noticed. In the end we were treated to one of his Royal Shakespeare Company performances. He clutched his tummy, sagged at the knees and writhed around on his back like a dying wasp. After all that he went to school and survived the day with no ill effects


My Galaxy went back to the Ford garage for them to put right what they should have done in the first place. I went out early to check that it was all neat and tidy, just as well really because I found a very lifelike gun under the seat – left by a certain young spy! It could have given someone a nasty shock.

Today is unusual in that the subject of the blog is something that hurts me very much but something that seems to cause great amusement to other people. I have some hearing loss, caused by a serious ear infection called labyrinthitis which I had more than 15 years ago. It left me with some nasty symptoms including spinning vertigo and balance problems. Over the years my brain had found ways to compensate for the balance problems most of the time, but the vertigo has become part of everyday life. The balance problems are worse when I am tired or unwell. At first I didn't notice the hearing loss - but other people did! It seems to have got worse over the years and after much nagging by my family, I saw a hearing specialist at the hospital. By then I had accepted that I have a problem, but I was shocked to find that nothing can be done about it. Apparently it is due to nerve damage and it can't be helped or put right. I know that I have no right to moan, I can hear and my problems are trivial compared to many others, but it is a struggle at times. It makes it hard for me to do certain things at work and my family get very cross when I don't hear them.

The other day Robbie was talking to me as we walked along outside, he was slightly ahead of me and there was no way that I could hear him. I asked him to repeat himself and he got cross, I explained that I couldn't hear and he told me to "try harder". I was really hurt, I know he didn't really mean it, he was just cross, but it sums up the way most people respond to my hearing loss. I get teased about it, it is a bit of a joke or people just get cross when I get things wrong. I wouldn't dream of telling Robbie to try harder when he is in pain and I hope I would never laugh at or about a persons disability. So why is hearing loss funny? It really doesn't feel very amusing from my point of view.

'The problem with communication is the illusion that it has occurred.' George Bernard Shaw

Stopping to Look Both Ways

We have had a lovely Christmas this year, nice food to eat, nice presents, but most important of all we were able to enjoy time with the people we love. We always have good intentions but life can be so busy that far too long can slip by without us spending quality time with family and friends. So the Christmas break has been especially important to us, we have enjoyed special moments with our wider family. It is rare that we are all together at the same time so that makes it extra special. After all the activity and chaos of Christmas, Robbie and I appreciated a few days of quiet with nothing much to do and all day to do it. Usually our days start very early, so not being ruled by the alarm clock has been fantastic and I think it has done us both good to have time to unwind. Despite all the pre Christmas stress, I have really enjoyed this Christmas break and I will be sorry to see Robbie return to work tomorrow.


I am not a fan of new year celebrations. It always seems rather sad to be closing the door on the old year and I look ahead to the new year with a certain amount of trepidation, wondering what new worries and challenges it has in store. It is odd really as I am not a pessimist and I tend to take most of the ups and downs of life in my stride, I think mostly it is just fear of the unknown. Every year the world changes a little bit, situations change, new people come into our lives and some become very important, and sadly other people are lost from our lives. As the year draws to a close we remember the familiar faces no longer with us who have brightened our lives in various ways. We may not know them personally but we are touched by their loss and we will miss them. Perhaps I am just getting old but it seems to me that we have said too many goodbyes in the last year. Among those that I will miss most are George Baker who brought Inspector Wexford to life, Jimmy Saville because there was no one quite like him, Peter Falk because I loved Colombo, David Croft who wrote Dads Army as well as other great comedy shows and brought so much pleasure, Billie Jo Spears because I loved her voice, and Edward Hardwicke who I will always think of as Dr Watson.

Finding the Magic of Christmas

I often think that we have got it all wrong when it comes to Christmas we get so tied up with buying presents and   Christmas food becomes an ordeal from start to finish - shopping for it, to storing it, cooking it and digesting it! Despite all my good intentions Christmas crept up on me and I was as disorganised as ever. I had been stashing presents away for months, just little things for Robbie, he is a big kid when it comes to Christmas and it makes me so happy to watch him opening his presents. I had been reasonably organised about presents for other family members, our children provide lists now, so that's easy and buying for my young niece and nephews is a pleasure. Finding the money is a bit more of a challenge, but that is the same for everyone. 


The bits of Christmas that I find challenging include getting the Christmas tree and decorations out of the loft, putting the tree up - and tidying up the mess afterwards! Arguing about where best to put the tree and acting as referee in the annual argument about whose turn it is to have their angel on top of the tree this year. The food shopping is probably the biggest headache, affording it, making sure that we have enough food while trying not to buy so much that it will be wasted. It is just such an effort tackling the supermarket, unloading the shopping and packing it into the fridge and freezer. Then I have to cope with Robbie huffing and puffing because the fridge is not packed correctly and things are in the wrong place in the freezer. Last but not least is wrapping, I quite like wrapping up presents but suddenly everything has to be wrapped at once and however well prepared I think I am, I find that someone has 'borrowed' the scissors, or the sellotape - or both!


This year was like every other year,  by Christmas morning I was exhausted and it was a real struggle to get up and join in the fun of present opening, but the excitement of gift giving works it's magic and memories of other Christmas mornings fill my mind, distant memories of my own childhood when Santa always left shiny new coins at the bottom of my stocking. Then there are the special Christmas memories of my own children when they were little. One daughter asked Santa to bring her a sheep - that was one Christmas wish that didn't come true. There was the time when I was filming both daughters singing Christmas carols for their grandma and the little one (age 4) kept stopping to tell her older sister off for singing her part, it was so funny. My favourite memory of my son at Christmas was when he was a shepherd in the nativity play, he was 3 or 4 at the time and he walked up to Mary and Joseph swinging his knitted lamb around by by it's tail!


Like snowflakes, my Christmas memories gather and dance - each beautiful, unique and too soon gone. ~Deborah Whipp

In the end the food and the presents don't matter so much, it is being together that counts, family time taking pleasure in the special people around us. Christmas may be hard work but this year just as every other year, sharing the day with all the people I love made it all worthwhile.

Living in the Past

It is half term, it seems as if they only went back to school a couple of weeks ago, but I have my son's company for the week. He (the one who likes to remain nameless) graciously agreed to come to the supermarket with me in return for a lift into town afterwards. According to him we had no food in the house and he was starving, but in reality the fridge, freezer and cupboards were well stocked; he just had a yearning for junk food and cereal. Typical!


As we drove out of the supermarket I wondered aloud if the woman at the traffic lights seriously thought that off white, skin tight almost see through leggings with a short top was a good look. I answered myself with the thought that someone should buy her a mirror for Christmas!  The nameless one in the passenger seat laughed out loud, he said "Mum, you make me laugh you are always living in the past" He went on to tell me that I didn't understand fashion, that may be true but I am fairly sure the world is not ready for sights like that!


In a way he is right, I don't live in the past but I carry it with me. It only takes a word or a look, a sound or a smell to transport me back to the people and places of my past. Sometimes a smile or a guilty look from my son reminds me so much of his dad. The smell from the brewery takes me back to my earliest years when I used to go with my aunt to deliver the church magazine in the streets that are now long gone. The sight of magnolia blossom brings back memories of my college rooms with the beautiful magnolia tree near my window. 

I came across this photo recently, I remember going to the Odeon to see the Aristocats, it was a birthday treat for one of my best friends. Looking at the Ladybird shop next door reminded me how much I disliked shopping for clothes with my mum when I was little. She has always loved fashion, but even when I was tiny I detested frills and fuss. It was a battle of wills, my mum got me to try on countless outfits and I objected to every single one. Sometimes I got my own way, but more often my mum dressed me in the clothes she liked. Among the horrors that still haunt me was the seriously unflattering ruched swimming costume and a bright red wet look raincoat that made terrible noises every time I moved. The worst by far were the orange hot pants, unlike my mum I have never been a hot pants type of person! So maybe my son is right I don't understand fashion, but I do understand that there are some sights that the world will never be ready for!!

From the Top of the Bus

A few weeks ago when I was writing about Robbie's passion for old buses I remembered catching the bus to town with my aunt when I was very young. Usually she would allow me to go up to the top deck and sit at the front. I liked this because I was high enough to see things that I couldn't possibly see from the pavement. If  we walked into town we would stop on the bridge close to the station and my aunt would support me as I scrambled up to look over the wall and down on the station below. I wanted to stay there to watch all the comings and goings at the station, but I was never allowed to. The top deck of the bus allowed me to take a longer look at the station below and if the bus drove slowly enough and had to queue at the junction, I could look across and get a glimpse of the goods yard. The station yard always fascinated me because I could hear the trains from my home. The noises seemed more noticeable when I went to bed at night and I often asked my mum what the trains were doing. Her answer was always the same, shunting, it was probably the only railway related word that she could think of. When I asked what shunting was I got a very sketchy answer, so I was always keen to see the goods yard and see this mysterious 'shunting' with my own eyes.

Thinking about those days so far back in my memory prompted me to look for pictures of the station back then. Oddly I remember the sounds and smells better than any visual memories of the station at that time. It was redeveloped in 1964/5 (vandalised would be a more accurate term) so it is hardly surprising that my memories are not so clear, I was only 4 in 1965! I can remember feeling very cross with them for what they were doing, I felt as if they were spoiling everything. When the new station was built I still loved to look down at the comings and goings on the platform but I disliked the unfriendly new building. To me it looked as if someone had dumped some ugly farm sheds in the middle of the town. It was probably the first building that I actively disliked.

Looking at the pictures I can see that my childhood instincts were surprisingly accurate. Taking away the old station building and replacing it with little more than a tin shack was an act of vandalism and deeply disrespectful to the town. I travelled by train many times during my childhood and teenage years, and the station was cold, ugly and unwelcoming, the sort of place that you would avoid if you possibly could. It is a little bit better theses days because they had to modernise it some years ago, but there is much truth in the old saying - you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. The only good thing I can say about Northampton Station is that the toilets are adequate and well looked after. 


Now plans are afoot to redevelop the station building and the surrounding area. West Northampton Development Corporation are working with Network Rail on the new development. It is hard to think of an organisation more disliked and distrusted than Network Rail, but West Northamptonshire Development Corporation is 'it', it is loathed and distrusted by locals because of it's high handed ways and the horrible things that it has done to our town. The plans for the new development are horrible, the buildings are ugly, soulless and impractical. They certainly haven't planned it with the needs of local people in mind. It only we could travel back to a time before the old station was demolished and start again, then perhaps we could get it right.


A camel is a horse designed by committee. - Alec Issigonis.

Last of the Summer Sun

When I went to the supermarket earlier this week, it felt as if I had taken a step back to early August. It was very hot with bright sunshine and and everyone was wearing short sleeved tops. To my surprise it has remained and sunny ever since. Of course looks can be deceiving, it may be hot in the middle of the day, but the early morning is dark and distinctly nippy and the long summer evenings have been chased away by the encroaching autumn darkness. I am always pleased to see the sun, but in a way the sunny days this week are a sad reminder of all that has gone. Was it really six weeks ago that we were on holiday in Norfolk? 

I love the summer, I don't need the weather to be too hot, just warm and comfortable, but mostly I love the long days and warm pleasant evenings. I think my favourite month is May when there are so many wild flowers and it warm with long lazy evenings and the summer stretches ahead of us. September is my least favourite month, it feels as if the darkness closes in around us with dark mornings and encroaching darkness in the evening with the promise of worse to come. We all have little triggers that remind us of past sadness and for me it is the sound of conkers falling to the ground from Horse Chestnut Trees. I remember the excitement of getting up early to go and collect conkers when I was little and I did the same when my children were little, so there are some good memories. However they are overshadowed by the memory of sitting in a hospital room, looking out at the beautiful grounds and hearing the conkers fall from the trees with a thud on to the grass below. In the quiet of the night the thud of the conkers falling seemed very loud. How odd that something so insignificant can sound so loud when a human life can slip away noiselessly.

Age is a high price to pay for maturity.

I have been asked that question a number of times in the last few weeks. My birthday was coming up and for some obscure reason people seem to think that it is cause to celebrate. It is a really difficult question to answer, because I really don't want anything. We have far too many 'things' already and there is nothing that I really need and I can't have the things I would really like.


More than anything I would like to be able to turn back time. Not to get rid of the wrinkles or because I am worried about my grey hairs, I don't care that much about either of those things. After all living with Robbie is bound to cause a few grey hairs - OK, I admit to more than a few grey hairs! I would like to turn back time because there are people who aren't here that should be and you can't help wishing that things could be different. Anyway things change, and I have to hang on to the fact that there are important people in my life now, such as my lovely nephews and niece who would be there if I turned back time. I guess the moral is that you have to live in the present and enjoy the people and things in your life now, then at least you carry special memories into the future with you.

I think my best ever birthday present was probably my first pony Geme. He had such a character and there was a very special bond between us for the rest of his life. The bond that develops between a young rider and her pony is very special. It is not the relationship with a dog or other pet because it involves a different level of trust and understanding. It is difficult to explain the closeness between horse and rider, it is not just an emotional bond, it is a physical communication.The rider understands and responds to every movement of the horse and the horse recognises and reacts to the movements and signals of the rider. The partnership depends on a large degree of trust and respect.


The joy of riding and the feeling of being at one with the pony brings a lot of pleasure, the thrill of cantering across a field and the gentler enjoyment of ambling along a lane in tune with the world around you. Horse riding gives you a lot of thinking time, it enables people to process thoughts and mull over problems, riding is good for your soul as well as for your mind and body.


I think my best birthday present as an adult was a video that I was given on my 41st birthday. My husband had borrowed some old cine film from my mum and had it transferred to video. I'd never seen the footage before and when I watched it I was confronted with my younger self laughing, playing and enjoying life. I was a spectator at my own first birthday party and I saw my grandmothers and my dad alive and well doing all the ordinary things that I only half remembered. Watching the video was a very emotional experience, but it was so precious, it was like being given back a little bit of my past.