Fragile

She didn't feel the bubble burst.

Even when she was alone in the cocoon she was never lonely.  Love, hope, promises, belief.  They all kept her company.  They gave her strength, gave her faith.

When the chill wind of reality brushed her cheek with it's icy fingers she wrapped herself in a cloak of fantasy, it's fleece lining a fragile cobweb of comfort.

The world through the iridescent wall of the bubble past her by in a multicoloured hue.

Touching the moisture on her face she expected to find yet more tears.

But the bubble was melting.

Love, hope, promises and belief leached out on to the arid ground, sucking the oxygen from her lungs, the saliva from her mouth, the tears from her eyes and the blood from her veins.

The bubble that had been her protector for so long collapsed in on her, choking her, encasing her, wrapping itself around her arms and legs, tightening, she grew smaller and smaller until, with a sharp snap. she was gone ...

Shhh, Dont Tell Surfer Dude ...

Yesterday late afternoon SD called round to see if I fancied a few hours out of town.

The weather here in the UK has turned freakishly hot in the last couple of days.  Temperatures hit about 26 degrees yesterday and the thought of getting out into the countryside was something I couldn't resist.

Leaving SD tinkering on the lawn with  bits of engine which may have belonged to a motorbike, beach buggy or any number of projects he seems to have constantly on the go Gus and I headed off down the country lanes.

I can't believe I left my camera at the farm.

It was glorious!!

The hedges were full of cow parsley, bright pink campion, poppies and great swathes of sweet smelling hawthorn.

The only sound was birds singing and insects buzzing (although one little bastard did bite me!).

Walking on the shady side of the lanes Gus and I had such a lovely walk.

Back at the farm we lazed around on the lawn drinking tea and eating cake.  I can't remember the last time I felt so at peace and relaxed.

SD went for a spin on his bike (far too hot for me to even think of getting togged up in leather!) leaving me to amuse myself for a while.

BIG mistake SD ;-)

This was the opportunity I'd been waiting for!

Dotted around the farm house are various photos of SD and his brother growing up and, as you know, SD has banned me from posting photos I've taken of him, possibly suspecting you will steal his likeness and create a voodoo doll or something (did I mention what a techno Luddite he is?).

He's never said I can't post photos that OTHER people have taken though ...

There are some crackers that he would kill me for posting when he was going through a New Romantics stage (think skin tight leather trousers, white shirt with the sleeves ripped off and, in a few I think I detect a hint of eyeliner - VERY Adam Ant!  :).

This one though I couldn't resist:

The Coiled Cat

So when Kate asked me what I had planned for the rest of the day I managed to resist the temptation to say, 'just about anything that doesn't involve me taking my knickers off!'

When the alert on my phone went off at 7:30 the other morning to remind me that I had something I had to do I cant say that I was overjoyed to discover it was having my coil changed.

I sat in the waiting room opposite an elderly lady, contemplating the way her stockings fell in folds around her ankles. Or possibly she just had stocking coloured wrinkled ankles, I couldn't really be sure ...

'Do you have blood pressure dear' she enquired.

'Lets hope so' I replied.

'Im here for mine' she said fumbling in her massive bag pulling out a bottle and waving it me.

'Ah', I said, trying to look knowledgeable.
'
'Oh dear, she said, peering at the label, I think these are my cats worming tablets, it's so easy to get these things mixed up isn't it  ...?'

'Are you here for your blood pressure?'

Briefly I thought about broadcasting the reason for my visit to the whole waiting room before saying 'yeeesss, I'm here for my blood pressure too!'

Thankfully the lovely Kate called me in.  I feel we are old friends now as she did my smear test just a few weeks ago.

Dr D will be with us shortly (only doctors are qualified to actually change coils).

Pop behind the curtain, pop off your lower garments, pop onto the couch and pop that piece of paper over yourself she said with a smile.

I duly popped.

Three children has not in anyway stopped that feeling of complete exposure and awkwardness in situations like this.

Kate and I made small talk.  From time to time she checked her computer which confirmed that Dr D was still with her last patient.

We covered everything from decorating to holidays, carboot sales to motor bikes and eventually fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Kate bustled around rearranging some frankly terrifying looking instruments, swabs etc while I pleated the paper covering my modesty.

The clock ticked. -  I tried to avoid looking at the trolley next to the couch -

I continued to pleat and fold the paper, look, see ...:

 

Ok, maybe those aren't mine but much longer and Dr D might possibly have found Kate I wearing one of these each!


  I'll just pop next door and see what the hold up is said Kate - off she popped.

Somehow lying there half naked but for a small piece of blue paper on my own staring at the ceiling waiting for the door to open was even worse than idle chit chat with a surgical glove wearing nurse holding a huge metal implement.

And then the door opened and in came Kate and Dr D.

'Hello Mrs Mac she beamed  how are we today?'

'Well, I'm half naked and you are about to insert a foreign object into my body, I'd say the prospect is possibly making us both feel a little uneasy I said.

And, given that you are about to become very closely acquainted with my cervix, please feel free to call me Sarah' I added.

We all chuckled, some of us slightly more ruefully than others ...

I'm going to kind of skim over the next bit, you really don't need or want to know the details but here are a few snippets, thoughts, and musing that went through my mind over the next 20 minutes or so:

'I wonder who wants to be here less, me or them ...?' (I mused)
'This ones not long enough, hand me the BIG Mofo implement' (Dr D - ok, in reality she may have said 'I need a longer speculum, but that's what I HEARD dammit!)

'Kate has such a lovely smile' (another of my musings)

'Im just going to clip you cervix' - 'What the FUCK - DID YOU SAY CLIP IT???' (Dr D, shortly followed by me).
'

'You're doing really well.' (Kate reassuringly)

'Maybe not so really when you consider my only alternative is to leap off the table whilst my cervix is catapulted to the other side of the room ...  (another oh so amusing musing;)

'More light, I need more light!' (Dr D)

'You mean that 1000 watt light you're scorching my arse with, the one that's currently giving a whole new meaning to the phrase burning bush isn't enough???' (no idea if I said that out loud or not)

'Hold this in place, I'm going in (Dr D - I SWEAR those were her exact words!)

'Oh dear, your cervix seems to have gone into spasms'. (Dr D)

'Can you fucking BLAME it?  My whole body is in spasms and the bits that aren't WOULD be if only they weren't suffering 2nd degree burns!' (I said that, I'm SURE I said that!)

'I'll just apply a little anaesthetic gel and try again shall I?' (Dr D)

'No thanks, I really would be happy never to have sex again, honest, it's absolutely NOT a problem!' (me, altho unfortunately it seems I  only said that in my head whilst nodding inanely).

A little more time waiting and pleating and then in for another try ....

(why am I telling you all of this???  I really have NO bloody idea!)

It seemed my cervix doesn't like being messed with and I for one don't blame it!

In the end Doctor D suggested I came back another day.

I'm still thinking Id rather never have sex again than get back on that couch.

On a lighter note (although the same subject ... ish):

When SD came round to admire the kittens - ok, that's a lie, he grew up on a farm, the only possible use for a cat in his mind is to catch mice (added to which he has a slight allergy to them and so spends much of his time picking cat hairs off me and wheezing slightly), he said ...

'So, you'll be getting her splayed after this then' -  I shit you NOT!  That is what I heard him say.

Ok, well, I'm still not 100% sure, it's possible I misheard, or, maybe it's just one of those words that for some reason he mispronouses (we ALL have those dont we?  ;).

After my recent experience this brought to mind vivid pictures that I'd really rather not have had in my head!

But if he has got it wrong I have no intention of correcting him because ... well, because I'm mean like that :)

Linking up with Glowless at:

Kittens For K

By request - some photos of the kittens (especially for you K :)

Excuse the aftermath of the birthing in a few - everythings been cleaned up now and, in a couple of days when Tilly is more settled I will be moving them into the lovely basket she ignored in favour of having them in the emergency cardboard box beside the sofa!

Big D's hand makes them look sooo tiny! - kitten no 3

kitten no 1



kitten no 2



please try to avoid looking at my scrotty nail varnish - I'd been decorating as well as attending the birthing! ;)



kitten soup :)



Kittens And Clutter

Know what this is???

Not sure?

Well let me help you out.

THIS my friends is an EMPTY alcove!!! (apart from a random dining chair).

The point is, it shouldn't BE empty!

I've spent the better part of a week decorating my dining room. 

It's my first attempt at wallpapering and, even if I do say so myself, it ain't so shabby.  Im pretty pleased with the way it's turned out.

The whole thing is white and it's so much lighter and brighter.


I showed off my dexterity a little with camera in one hand, paintbrush in the other balanced precariously with one foot on the window sill and the other on the step ladder:

So, my empty alcove WELL ...

I needed more furniture in the room, all it had was the dining table and chairs and my merchants chest - it never looked finished or complete.

So, I aquired this on ebay:



currently cluttered with the stuff I'm keeping after my decluttering ;)


The alcove is 46" wide, the ad said this cabinate was 44" wide, perfect!

If only the twazock (a good old Somerset expression meaning, he who does not understand that size DOES indeed matter should stay the f*ck off ebay!) who measured it had taken the measurements from the base rather than across the doors it might even fit!

It leaves me having a complete rethink of the layout for my dining room and I am not happy!

In other news, Tilly, my lovely cat had kittens last night, look!

There is a very real danger I will become a kitten bore on FB but my friends will just have to suck it up until I get over it!

Ok, well, I know I'm a slacker and I honestly do have a shed load of posts in the offing, soooo much more of the good, the bad and the downright fucking ugly to share with you all but for now I have kittens to gaze at ;)

Laters!

A Week And A Day

I'm exhausted - too tired right now for words.

My insomnia which is always lurking in the background is back, it keeps me buzzing through the night and in a zombie like trance throughout the day.

BUT, it doesn't stop me getting out there doing things, taking photos and having fun so, rather than not blog at all I give you my week and a day in pictorial format (and I promise, all those stored up posts very soon!).

Last Sunday after a hectic morning carbooting I went to Topsham - I'd only ever passed it before on the way to somewhere else but it was a revelation!

Beautiful Dutch architecture.  A stunning quay.  I could quite happily live there!

On Monday I bought a new dress (yes, Im on a roll ;) - excuse the close up of my boobs but I wanted to show you the detailing.

Tuesday night I went for a walk by the canal and saw this swans nest full of eggs

Closely followed by one slightly pissed off swan ;)

On Saturday I helped SD spruce up his bike ready to sell - such a shame - I like!  But, as he pointed out, he does have a slight excess of vehicles at the moment (the bike wouldn't by MY choice to get rid of!)

On Saturday afternoon I went to Charmouth - somewhere else I'd never been - I always seem to end up at Lyme Regis or Saunton or Seatown when I go that way but Charmouth was great.  So much quieter than Lyme and a river for Gus to play in.  Then on to Lyme for dinner at the Cob Inn - amazing food!

Sunday was spent finishing the prep to decorate my dining room - a room I've never really liked, it doesn't get enough sun and then wallpapering it.

Today I painted it white - please note - it is really bloody hard to see where you have painted white wallpaper with white paint!  It looks a million times lighter and brighter and just fresh and clean - well worth the effort!



Me



Oh, and this morning I had a text from a male friend asking if I'd re-registered on the dating website (I haven't).  He said he's seen a photo and had thought it was me. 

He forwarded the photo to me and at first I couldn't see what he meant at all but then I looked at my profile pic and yes, I kind of see where he's coming from.

In all events, I'm pretty flattered! :)



 



Not me



So, that's my week and a day - nothing earth shattering - nothing particularly entertaining for you to read - don't worry, plenty of those damned 'things' HAVE happened this week and I will tell you about them when I can clear this fog in my brain.

The best thing to happen this week though was making contact on the other side with one of my favourite bloggers - we have become firm friends over the months in blogland and now, finally, we have taken it that step further and are talking on a more personal level.

I can't tell you how happy that makes me.

I feel I should be doing one of those grateful posts that often pop up but Im too much of a miserable bitch to bother most of the time ;)

Anyway - PP - here's to Mayhem and Malibu (altho I may have to substitute that for vodka ;).

So, what about you lot?  (don't leave me hanging here with no comments like a billy no mates).

What have you been up to?

Have you ever crossed over from blog buddy to real life friend?

A Bit Of A Poke Around ...

Do you ever go for a bit of a poke around your own blog?

It's not something I do very often but I was looking for inspiration.

I haven't written much lately and to be honest, I haven't been particularly inspired by anything much I have written either.

I'm not sure what the problem is.  It's not like I don't have material.  I've got loads!

There was the BDSM VPAG AGM - I REALLY need to write that one up sometime.

The BMAD fest where I like to think I rocked the Sisters of Mercy look.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And so much more - visits to the beach (but of course ;) - the bastard carbooters - dinner with James - the sequel to flashing at my neighbour ... loads of stuff and I WILL get there.

 

All of these things are floating around my head right now but not coming together on the page.

 

So ...  in order that you don't forget me (and in an attempt to remind you that I wasn't always 'boring'  - not forgetting the all important accreditation for that comment SA ;) I decided to repost the story of my shitty kitchen which is relatively unchanged since this was written almost a year ago except for the addition of this:

 

 



It seemed appropriate to have a clock with no numbers making it almost impossible to accurately tell the time ;)



 

 

Total Whiteout

 

This post has been in my head trying to get out for some time but I wouldn’t let it. Every now and then it would shout, ‘tell them, tell them, go on, you know you want to’ ……

Like a wasp it buzzed around pissing me off and occasionally stinging me just in case I might have forgotten it.

Forget you??  I’d like to fucking forget you but every time I walk into my kitchen, there you are IN MY FACE!

Possibly it would never have been told had it not been for Gemma over at My Big Nutshell but, having read her latest post I realised I wasn’t alone.  This THING that tormented me had other victims too, victims braver than me, victims willing to share and maybe, just maybe sharing was the answer. Take away the control and I could be back in power, I could be the one calling the shots.

What am I talking about? 

I’m talking about MY SHITTY KITCHEN!

You might remember me telling you a little about having my shitty kitchen fitted  (yep, ex lax, the transvestite plumber and the broken nose).

The thing is, like so many things in my house, my kitchen was never completely finished.

So, the walls got a coat of emulsion which was only supposed to ever be as an undercoat, (did you know emulsion ABSORBS grease?). The kickboards are still in my bedroom so that anything that drops on the floor invariable rolls under the kitchen units. The floor, well, we ripped up 7 layers of lino to reveal the ‘lovely’ red and white tiles with every INTENTION of laying a new floor. The edge of the windowsill was never tiled so there’s just a strip of bare concrete and not a single sodding door or drawer handle is straight.

My kitchen is what is know as a galley kitchen, it’s long (and I use that word loosely!) and narrow so, to counteract that we decided to put in narrower base units to give us more floor space with a range of cupboards above. (The added bonus there being that the floor tiles were only laid up to the edge of the old units so I have several inches of concrete floor either side! ) The only trouble is, using the workspace means you are practically underneath the fucking cupboards.  If I’m not cracking my head on them then I’m cracking it on the extractor above the hob .  

The kitchen designer (again, I use the term loosely) did allow enough space for the fridge but didn’t take into account that it would be quite nice to open the door to it’s full extent. Trying to get the shelves out to clean them is as painful as watching my elderly neighbour trying to reverse park her car.

But, not only that, my kitchen is the place where white goods come to die …….

First of all it was my tumble dryer, one day it just stopped working and I couldn’t figure out why.  I called out the nice ‘man who can’ to take a look.  After 5 minutes he turned to me ashen faced holding the slightly singed plug with bent pins.  This things a death trap he said in horror, you could have all been burnt in your beds!  I’ll take it away for you.  Noooo I said, I can’t afford to replace it and I’ll just be left with a big gap in my shitty kitchen. So it sits there, all shiny and white and smug laughing at me as I festoon the house with wet clothes and frantically try to iron dry airtex PE shirts in the mornings.

Then the dishwasher started making a strange chirruping noise even when it wasn’t switched on.  I asked my FB friends for advice.  It sounds like there’s a bird trapped in their I said but I’ve looked, I can’t see one. ‘Have you shut the dog in there’ one helpful soul asked.  ‘I don’t know Alf’, I replied, ‘I was too busy looking for sodding  birds!’

Anyway, the chirruping stopped and for a while all was good until, SOMETHING (and I still don’t know what it was), flew out of it one day when I opened it nearly taking my eye out.  Whatever it was must have been crucial to the working of it cause it doesn’t work anymore!

The story of my Washing machine you can read about here .It does work for now with the aid of two extension leads strung across the kitchen like bunting.

My steamer's on a go slow and things that used to take 40 minutes now take twice that time.  Ditto my toaster (although that does at least toast rather than steam). My oven is given to randomly overheating (which is why kids I ALWAYS burn pizza) and I’m on my third kettle so far this year.

So, like Gemma, I’d just like to say:

Stop reading if you have a shitter kitchen than me. I don't want to hear it. Stop reading if you have a better kitchen than me, I hate you. I hate you more if you have an awesome kitchen and have NFI how to cook either.

Because, like Gemma, I CAN cook too (when my shitty kitchen lets me!)

Cake

Tiffin

Lemonade Scones

Beauty and Aesthetics - WoW

The Prompt:
Take the first line of whatever you last read...Magazine Article. Blog Post. Newspaper. TV Guide. Doesn't matter what. Write the line on a piece of paper. Take that piece of paper outside. Leave your screen behind. Wait until you have been outside for at least 15 minutes (an important part of the exercise) and then use your prompt to begin writing. Choose to write a 5 minute stream of consciousnesses or take it slow and write a 500 word piece.  

This is completely unedited.  I'm aware that it needs a huge amount of work - it's too wordy, there is some repetition and probably it needs to be half the length it is.

It's written in my familiar spaghetti splat straight from my head onto the page ;)

But, I don't want to look at it again right now, maybe some time in the future if Gill suggest a re-write.

The story is  fact rather than fiction (and I did get a VERY bad photo)

Whistling up the dog and pausing only long enough to pick up a lightweight fleece she headed out in search of open space, of air to breath of a different kind of silence.

After days of torrential rain the day had been bright and sunny.

Small clouds had chased their way across the sky like tiny white sailing boats on a vast ocean.

Exhausted from digging and weeding, emptying pots and hanging baskets.  Sowing seeds and gently easing tender plants from their pots she had lain  on the sun warmed decking watching the endless race her head filled with equally endless questions and a multitude of answers.

The river was a raging maelstrom of brown swirling water.

Eddies and under currents had torn away the limbs of trees, debris littered the path and crashed against the barrier of the weir.

A futile swirling mass seeminly at the end of it's journey with nowhere to go.

Walking past the scene of devastation she headed further up the river.

The swans she had observed each time she walked this way sat bedraggled, muddied and bewildered.

Exhausted at their efforts to rebuild their nest. Reeds and sticks lay all around them, a testament to their determination to carry on, to not give up.

Seemingly unaware that their eggs had already been washed away.

The questions in her head became even louder at each new discovery.

Each new piece of devastation wrought by the forces of nature.

Each broken nest, each broken tree, each shattered dream.

Crossing the bridge she took the path that led to the canal which ran parallel to the river and was instantly soothed  by the peace, the slow flowing water.

The gentle pace untouched by the elements that had wrought such devastation only a few yards away.

If only the swans had thought to build their nest on the slow flowing banks of the canal ...

For a while, as the sun, still warm in the late afternoon shone on the stillness of the water she walked along the tow path.

An otter broke the surface, briefly looking at her in surprise before disappearing leaving in its wake a line of bubbles.

She followed the bubbles and, every now and then the otter surfaced, studied her for a moment seemingly unafraid before continuing on it's journey.

The canal and the river met at a lock, it's gates tightly shut and unused for many years.

On one side the calm, undisturbed water.

On the other, the unpredictable, sometime turbulent, ever changing river.

Loosing sight of the otter she assumed that it had met the dead end and decided to turn around and head back into the safety of the calm waters.

Leaning on the wooden arm of the lock she took the piece of paper from her pocket.

Written in bold black ink on thick cream vellum were the words:

"When did we forget out dreams?"

A movement caught her eye.

The otter had climbed out of the water and, so quickly that she didn't have time to take out her phone to capture the moment it headed over the bridge and down the other side into the river and disappeared.

Scanning the water she saw it briefly raise it head above the water, it looked straight at her and then it dived and she saw it no more.

Again she looked at the words written on the paper.

Poised between the slow flowing canal and the tempestuous river she paused,  uncertain for a moment.

But what do we have if we forget our dreams?

Her fingers released the scrap of paper and dropped it into the river where it was carried away on the current, following the path of the otter.