Rewinding 'Dear ....'

It's the weekend and time for the Rewind over at The Pink Fibro.

It was so lovely to see some old faces last week and to meet some new ones.  Thank you again Allison for bringing this back (I will eventually stop saying thank you, or you'll block me or something .... ;).

Anyway, This weeks theme is writing.  Rewind a post you've written about writing or some of your own writing - anything really that fits with the theme.

Well, I haven't written any posts about writing (apart from a few whingy ones about how HARD it is sometimes)  But, a few of you may remember that I used to write a little fiction now and then.

I've chosen this one because it's not only some of my writing but it's also ABOUT writing so it's a double whammy (I'm fully expecting a prize for that!).

It started with this photo that I took in April last year as the sun set over Saunton Beach in North Devon.

'Dear ...'

The light was fading bathing the sky over the sea  in a wash of pink and gold.

She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, the tang of salt laden air touched her lips echoing the sting from the salt filled tears that blurred her vision as she wrote.

Her attention was momentarily caught by the silhouette of the surfers making their way back across the sand, dark shapes captured against the soft glow of the water behind them.

Two tiny figures returning from their battle to dominate the vastness of the ocean.

(if they can do it so can we ... so can we ... )

Turning back to the letter in front of her she rubbed a weary hand across her face leaving a smudge of ink on her cheekbone.

It seemed she had been writing forever, with so much to say and so much that had been left unsaid.

Her voice had been stifled, ignored and discarded for so long. Please god,  this time, let it be heard for surely the time was coming when the words would be lost forever and her voice faltered and finally fell silent.

The pages shimmered, ruffled by a breeze carrying the scent of ocean in it wake.

As she put out a hand to still them she watched the words she had written gradually fade and disappear and she realised it was too late.  The words were already gone.

Unwritten, unread, unheard ...

Who Am I? The Lounge Edition

This week The Lounge is being hosted by Kim from  Falling Face First and the subject is 'Work Woes' - Kim invites you to tell the story of your worst job ever and to be honest, I've got quite a few to choose from!

 Once again I've dug into the depths of Fudge and pulled out a post I wrote a while ago because, being lazy, why bother writing a new post when you have one made to measure mouldering away in the closet? it seems to fit perfectly with this weeks theme.


Who am I? (clue: I am NOT a Waitress)

I've had a variety of shit jobs in my time from cold calling for a charity trying to get people to drop donation envelopes to canvassing for a double glazing firm and working on a fruit and veg stall in a market.

I have also, in my time, done a fair amount of waitressing.

There used to be a very large, prestigious hotel in town called The County Hotel, it's now a Marks and Spencer store but in those days it held huge functions and banquets.

One of the biggest functions of the year was Boxing Night. An all male affair with dinner, stand up acts and the main event at the end of the evening, boxing.

Because it was so popular the tables were set out in rows, canteen style. But, whoever had set it up hadn't allowed for the fact that many of the men sported impressive beer bellies and had their chairs pushed so far away from the table that the poor waiting staff (i.e. me!) had barely any room to squeeze between them and the next row.

The bigger the tables, the bigger the platters of food to dish up. These things were huge, hot and heavy. Half way round the table my arm was shaking like Id stuck my finger in an electric socket and I'd resorted to flicking the food off the platter and hoping it would land on a plate. Luckily much alcohol had been consumed and no one really noticed or cared.

When I got to the end of the table I stood there, red in the face, shaking and sweating waiting for the other tables to be completed before I could go back to the kitchen.

I watched with interest as one of the other waitresses who was serving a table opposite me tried to squeeze between two rather rotund gentlemen. Suddenly, I realised she was actually resting a boiling hot platter of food one one of their heads!!!!

How the hell could he sit there laughing and chatting with half a ton of piping hot spuds frying his brain???

Almost at the same time I noticed the other waitress realised what she was doing. Slowly she tried to slide the platter off his head and OMG, his HAIR was sliding off with it!!!

I was in awe, had she MELTED his hair follicles???

Kind of ....

Very slowly she slid the platter back again trying to manoeuvre the toupee back into place but by now the glue had become very ungluey  and the damn thing started to slide backwards down his neck.

She caught my eye sending me a desperate 'help me' look.  In an attempt to create a diversion I threw my empty platter to the ground with a huge crash.  Unfortunately this unnerving the poor girl so much that she threw her own platter high into the air, scattering potatoes across the table and sending the toupee sailing, like some ungainly, hairy bird into the lap of the man opposite who, being rather more than half cut and not knowing what the hell it was completely freaked out clearly thinking he was under some kind of attack and promptly threw the toupee to the floor where he repeatedly stamped on it shouting 'DIE YOU BASTARD!!!'

Shortly after that (or maybe at that exact moment) I decided waitressing probably wasn't for me after all ....

A Photo For Tuesday

Because after the beautiful weekend the weather has turned pants.

Because yesterday I managed to put my back out so I'm feeling a little sorry for myself.

Because I have lots of things I need to do including baking cakes for a friend which I'd forgotten about until I just typed that!

Because I'd love to be able to rewind my weekend and do it all again ....

I've been messing with photos :-).

No idea what was going on here but feel free to suggest your own caption.

Where On Earth

Want to know where the best place on earth  to be this weekend was?

Well that's EASY!

It was exactly where I was!!

Obviously that's partly BECAUSE I was there, and let's face it, why would you want to spend the weekend somewhere I wasn't????

Surfer Dude told me he wouldn't swap me for Angelina Jolie even if she owned a cottage in Cornwall and a tractor with Clayber tyres and seriously, if you knew how much SD would LOVE a tractor with Claybers you'd realise what a HUGE compliment that was!

I think he's still trying to make up for the 'If your personality were as great as your ass you'd be damned near perfect' comment which he maintains he meant as a compliment but I'm not so sure .... ;-)

It's been a magical weekend.

SD and I headed for Cornwall and Run To The Sun - it's a huge car/music festival held in Trevelgue just outside Newquay where 8 or 9 thousand other car lovers/sun seekers descend to party the weekend away.

As ever, I think SD knew at least 7 thousand of them personally and managed to make friends with the rest while we were there but that's one of the things I love most about him (despite the fact that it slows our progress to the beer tent somewhat!).

I am (believe it or not) a fairly introverted person.  People who don't know me well sometimes think I'm a little aloof.  Of course, when you get to know me you know nothing could be further from the truth but I'm aware that it is an aura I give off ...

SD is the polar opposite of aloof - he's open, friendly, totally unselfconscious, unfailingly laid back and happy and he draws me in to his golden bubble because he says that these days, without me by his side, he feels like something is missing.

But, if being with SD in a place that I love with a great crowd of people wasn't enough for one girl (and believe me, it was!) then there was more!

When SD and I had had our fill of Mustangs, VDubs, Ford Pops, Cadillacs, Ferrari's and even an F1 car we went for a wander around Newquay.

We stopped a while at a cafe with a sun terrace overlooking Newquays 5 beaches and sat on a huge circular sofa in the blazing sun topping up our tans and drinking coffee.

We strolled hand in hand around the town visiting our favourite shops.

We walked across Barrowfields, a large grass area high above the town with views across the sand and sea to Wales and we took photos of each other snapping those happy moments so we can keep them forever (obviously I WAS gurning in most of them but SD has learnt to take LOTS in the hope of getting one decent snap of me).

and yes, this really was the best one ;-)

We dropped back down into the town and headed for the harbour where a fishing boat was pulling in followed by a couple of these:

These guys are seriously friendly and follow the boats in hoping to be thrown some fish.  They lie happily sunning themselves on the top of the water while you take photos and one came right up to the wall to take a good look at me, had I been able to reach I could have stroked him.

Our day ended back at Porth  in the Mermaid Inn - even if the food wasn't fantastic (which is is!!) - who could fault a view like this as you eat your dinner?

Tell me your weekend was more perfect than mine - I won't believe you ....

I'm one lucky bitch aren't I?

Seriously though, I hope you all had a great bank holiday weekend too and that it brought you as much happiness as mine did me.

Silent Sunday

The Rewind RETURNS!!!

I woke up this morning feeling slightly crap.  For the last two weeks I've been rather pleased with myself for not succumbing to the bug Surfer Dude brought home from school and which has left him with a sore throat, aching limbs and feeling pretty exhausted.

He's well on the road to recovery (thanks to plenty of Benylyn and other drugs my superior nursing skills) and now I'm afraid I may be coming down with it just in time for the Bank Holiday weekend.

Well, I don't have time for that!  We have BIG plans this weekend.  We going to Newquay in Cornwall for Run To The Sun - a huge VW festival with thousands of people, lots of beer and some great bands and I REFUSE to be ill I tell you!!!

I was feeling a little sorry for myself as I logged into Blogger this morning and I can't think of ANY drug that could have cheered me up more than finding that Allison Tait over at the Pink Fibro has decided, for a limited time, to bring back The Weekend Rewind!

The rewind was one of the first (and one of the very best) linkys I discovered almost at the start of writing my blog.  It's such a friendly place and a great way to discover new blogs and it gave me such a huge boost to see it back again taking me right back to those heady, happy days when I first started out when my blog was  just a promise of the great adventure to come.

Thank you SO much for bringing it back Allison!

This weeks theme is January - all you need to do is rewind a post from ANY January and link up with Allison - don't forget to visit a few of the other blogs too.  I know I've been guilty of not updating my blog roll for a very long time and I also know this is a great place to find new people.

Anyway, without any further ado, I bring you my January post:

WTF Sarah!

SD has this way of looking at me sometimes - it's almost like he's thinking 'WTF are you doing Sarah'.

In fact, SOMETIMES he actually says, 'WTF are you DOING Sarah???'

This afternoon I was minding my own business when SD came into the room and I became aware that he was looking at me with  THAT look on his face.

So I gave him the eyebrows raised, mouth open, shoulder shrugging kinda look back as though to say, 'isn't it obvious WTF I'm doing???' -  but STILL he said it.

So I ignored him.

There was a brief pause and then he said:

Sarah are you ... are you ...  measuring your arse???

And yes, for the record, I WAS measuring my arse and I'm pretty sure that not one of you would have felt the need to ask that question had you seen me with a tape measure stretched across my backside because, like I said, it was bleedin' obvious wasn't it?  Asking me why, well now that might just have been the more sensible question don't you think?

(I was actually measuring it because SD told me that the seats on the beach buggy were 23cm across and I was a little concerned that when I'm sitting down my posterior may actually encompass a spread slightly larger than the said seats and I might overflow and obscure the handbrake or something similarly vital ...)

But seriously, can a girl not measure her own arse, in the comfort of her own home without being cross questioned????

Ok, I'll admit, sometime (just SOMETIMES mind) SD is possibly perfectly justified in giving me THAT look.

For instance:

Some time between Christmas and New Year SD and I put up a new fence at the farm.

Before we could put up the new fence we had to take down the old one.  This involved removing the old uprights that were buried quite deep.

SD drove the van into the field, tied a rope to the old upright and handed the other end to me.  He got back into the van saying 'sort that out and tell me when somethings happening'.

I looked at the rope, got to admit, I wasn't really sure what was supposed to happen next but I didn't want to disappoint so I smiled and nodded encouragingly.

Slowly, slowly he pulled away.  'Anything?' he shouted - 'Ummm, no not yet I replied' still wondering what the hell I was supposed to be looking for and looking at the end of the rope for inspiration.

He inched forward a little more - 'Anything yet?' he shouted. 'Nothing' I replied looking around completely mystified.

Another couple of inches - 'Anything yet?' he shouted sounding a little impatient. 'Ummm, no, not really ....'

SD stuck his head out of the window, looked at me and slowly that expression of total incredulity stole across his face.

Without a word he jumped out of the van, walked across to me, stood, for a brief moment looking at me and shaking his head before he took the loose end of the rope that I'd been twirling in my hand and hooked it around the vans tow hitch ....

Oh ....

Snails, Saunas and Waterfalls - The Lounge Edition

So it's Thursday again and that can only mean one thing - it's time to pop over and visit The Lounge.  This week it's being hosted by Rachel at The Very Inappropriate Blog and the topic this week is Travel Tales.

Now I have plenty to say on that matter (and most others if i'm perfectly honest ;).  I did consider telling the story of Maggie's hen week in Symi and why exactly she had a roll of parcel tape in her bag and what Jenny did with it but time is short - I have (as Slapdash Mama would say) too much on my mind and not enough brain to deal with it all so I've dug through the archives and I bring you the story of my honeymoon:

As you may have realised, my family is a ‘little’ accident prone and sadly my children have inherited it from BOTH sides.

Most of my own personal mishaps I blame on Maggie.  Not because it’s necessarily her fault but just because I can.

My Fat Foot

I do this to such an extent that when I posted the photo of My Fat Foot on FB Maggie asked, ‘is it my fault?’  Well, no Maggie, I own that in this instance we were in fact in different counties so it probably wasnt.

It WAS Maggie’s fault I snapped my kneecap though!  Yes, I was a little the worse for wear and YES I was trying to see if I could put my foot on someone’s shoulder (something that should only be done either in a horizontal position or with someone considerably shorter than the person in question!) BUT, it was Maggie’s fault for leaving me and my alter ego unattended.

It wasn’t Maggie’s fault I ended up in A&E with a broken fingernail either  (I lie not!) as it was before I knew her.

I would have blamed Maggie for my black eye had not half the office seen me pick up the phone and smack myself in the face with it.  Bad enough but then, in a state of disorientation I compounded my foolishness by answering it and saying ‘hello, can you help me?’

Mr Mac, now I’ve been thinking about that title ever since lovely, lovely C mistyped his name in a text and referred to him as Lack and I’ve decided that as my ex he should be rechristened, I shall therefore, from now on, be calling him Ex Lax, a singularly appropriate title as all those in the know would agree.

Anyway, Ex Lax is the pass master of the ridiculous accident and in his line of work (tree surgery) he has plenty of scope for making a prat of himself.


Forget to clip in securely?  Yep, you’re going to end up upside down suspended from a foot strop 20 foot up a Scots Pine. Misjudge the weight ratio on the pulling rope you might just take out a green house a Ford Fiesta and a water butt.  Leave the safety lock off your chainsaw, expect to say bye bye to your gonads (little bit of wishful thinking going on there)

His best effort were saved for the home though and the dreaded DIY.  Yes he had all the tools of the trade,    but the best tools in the world do not a workman make.  To be fair (and I always am J) he was a tryer.

He fitted a kitchen with a little help from yours truly, our transvestite plumber (Nikki), the transvestite plumbers standard poodle and our mate Pete and only broke his nose once (his own, not Pete’s).

He put in a bathroom with a little help from yours truly, our transvestite plumber (Nikki), the transvestite plumbers standard poodle and our mate Pete and only over tightened ONE little joint on a pipe, ok, that DID result in the flooding (with hot water) of the entire downstairs but that’s just details.

He did help to put in the central heating with a little help from yours truly, our transvestite plumber (Nikki), the transvestite plumbers standard poodle and only put one little nail through one little pipe when re-laying the floorboards, shame it was in the room above the brand new boiler we’d just had installed in the Kitchen ……..

He did cut to size and put up the wooden blinds I wanted in the bay window and only dropped one piece of wood onto the sill of the new windows we’d just had installed taking a huge chunk out of it.

He did put new doors on the under stairs cupboard, ok, due to some feat of science that I’ve never understood neither door opens to more than a 30 degree angle but then, I doubt I could have done better myself (although the transvestite plumbers dog just might have been able to).

The thing is, he did give it a go and I do have a certain amount of respect for him because of that (not to mention a trashed house hmmmm).

I think my favourite Ex Lax mishap was on our honeymoon.  Some of you may have read the tale of our wedding day in A Right Royal Affair.

The story continued in the Lake District, our chosen destination for a few days of newly wedded bliss.  Ex Lax had chosen the hotel based on the fact that it came with its very own waterfall.  It wasn’t my first choice but I’m a bit of a people pleaser and I’m usually happy enough to go along with what everyone else wants if I don’t have strong objections.

The hotel was, as described on the website, within spitting distance of Derwent Water one of the beautiful lakes.  The description of ‘hotel’ though I had to question. Within a few minutes it was pretty obvious that it was in fact a nursing home for the incontinent! ‘Would you like to take coffee in the lounge madam?’ Sugar, milk, urine soaked chair?

The hotel also boasted that many of its rooms had beautiful views overlooking the lakes.  To that end I had rung to confirm out booking 7 times just so I could drop in the fact that we were on honeymoon and would love a lake view.

We got a view over the flat roof of the kitchen complete with extraction pipe and over to the car park and dustbins! There was a strange metal loop attached to the floor next to the bed which I immediately stubbed my toe on, no idea what it was for, possibly for ease of access to under the floorboards in case they wanted to stow a body.

My initial thought was that it WOULD explain the really rather unpleasant odour in the room.  It wasn’t me, it wasn’t even ex lax. It didn’t turn out to be bodies under the floorboards either.

It DID turn out to be the leaky soil pipe that fed the whole floor and ran through the built in cupboard under the window INSIDE our room!  The amount of shit generated by the whole hotel also produced (as a by product)  huge quantities of heat so the room was boiling hot as well as smelly.

Now Ex Lax had a peculiarity. He liked to see if he could fit into small spaces. Ignoring the heat, the smell of shit and the view of the car park, his eyes lit up at the sight of the whole wall of built in cupboards which included a small shoe cupboard at the bottom.  Carefully he backed into it (and yes, I DO have photographic evidence if I can ever work out how to get photos off the camera and onto the computer).  All would have been ok if the built in cupboard had actually been BUILT IN!!! After spending a little time firmly wedged in the cupboard Ex Lax decided it was time to explore further afield and attempted to slide out, but hmmmm, the whole of the damn unit came with him!  I wasn’t fixed to the sodding wall!!!  I had visions of us travelling the Lake District, him, and his very own home on his back like a bloody MDF crazed snail!

Fortunately with a little pushing and pulling on my part the two were separated.

Ok, we were now 20 minutes into our dream honeymoon and Ex Lax decided to go off and take a look at the waterfall while I unpacked.

10 minutes later there was a knock at the door.  I opened it to be confronted with Ex Lax, his face ashen, blood dripping on the floor from his mangled hand.  He’d only gone and fallen down the fucking waterfall!

He spent the first night of our honeymoon on the sofa with his hand in the ice bucket along with the champagne that neither of us really felt like drinking, sweating like a pig in a shit filled sauna.

Revisiting The Tantrum

I wrote a post yesterday for The Lounge on grown up tantrums.

Many of the posts I read were peoples justified reactions to situations. In my book that doesn't really qualify as a proper tantrum because they were justified.  I'm a great believer in standing up and being counted.  I don't 'walk on the other side' when I see people behaving in an unacceptable way and yes, I've got myself into some tricky situations as a result maybe I'll blog about that another day ...

My post wasn't about one of those times.  My post was a proper grown up tantrum. A real hormone induced Sarah hissy fit, no excuses, I was out of order.  I can pretty much dress up anything to make it seem funny but, as often is the case, at the time it really wasn't.

We all have our off days, our off moments, times when we are completely unreasonable and sometimes say or do things that are unkind and designed to hurt the people we care about.

Often they are a reaction to something that's been said or done to us, something that, in the grand scheme of things is insignificant but something that pushes a button, a flashback to the past and, in our desire to make that clear we over react and behave in a way that is both undeserved and unworthy of us.

I can honestly say that I rarely do this - I hate conflict and I have no desire to hurt those I care about but it does happen occasionally and I'm not going to pretend it doesn't.

Joe, who blogs over at Cranky Old Man is one of my favourite bloggers.  He's funny, insightful and endlessly caring (sorry Joe, but that Cranky persona is just window dressing, you've been outed ;-).

My post was an account of an over reaction on my behalf because of course that's exactly what a tantrum is.  Ok, the post was a little exaggerated and I may have embellished it a little but the truth is, it was what it was, a tantrum pure and simple.

Joe left the following comment:

'Ooh damn...having flashbacks here. Memories of walking on egg shells. Not good!'

And it pulled me up short ....

And I looked at the post again taking the 'humour' out of it ...

You see, I KNOW where Joe's coming from.

I've read and re read this post over and over, I've changed it, taken bits out, added bits, almost completely re written it several times and seriously considered deleting it because it's not who I am anymore and yet ...

It's still a part of me.  It's still something I carry inside and it serves a purpose even if that purpose is only to make sure that I never again go back to that unhappiness.

I spent many years walking on egg shells.  Many, many years trying SO damned hard to get it right.  Watching the goal posts constantly move out of reach.  Knowing I'd failed again.  Waiting for the fallout ...

For a brief moment SD, in talking over me, took me back to a place I swore I'd never go again.  A place where I was unimportant, not valued, constantly trying so hard to please whilst knowing it would never be enough.  He unwittingly pushed that button and I automatically reacted.

SD is so far removed from Ex Lax that they could be a totally different species and I would say that in general I remember that but somewhere deep inside there are still scars.  I'm still scared, I'm still walking on egg shells and the only person I'm really angry with is myself.

I'm angry that I allowed someone to have that control over me.  I'm angry that I allowed them to insidiously pick away at the person I was.  I'm angry that I didn't recognise it right from the start because it was there in the jealousy dressed up as caring, in the gradual distancing of me from the people I cared about, in the critisism of the way I dressed/spoke/behaved .... endlessly but in such small ways at the start that I chose to ignore it, I didn't want to see and that was my biggest mistake.

Ignoring it made it 'acceptable', ignoring it made it' ok', ignoring it made it GROW!

I'm angry that I tried to change who I was to please someone until I didn't know who I was anymore.  Until I was incapable of making a decision for fear of making the wrong one.  I STILL struggle with decision making, I STILL try to second guess what will make people happy.  I'm STILL anxious when I'm given choices because I fear it may be some kind of trick question and people are waiting for me to get it wrong.

BUT!

I've come such a long way from that person. I've managed to regain much of the person that I buried for such a long time and I've realised that nothing I could have done would have made Ex Lax happy because he is not a happy person.

So where am I going with this?

Like many of my posts, I'm not really sure ....

I think it's probably sadly true to say that there are more people out there making other people unhappy than happy.  It makes me endlessly sad because I recognise my old self in them and I know it doesn't have to be like that. It SHOULDN'T be like that!

Everyone deserves to be happy.

I will probably always be a people pleaser, that's part of my nature.  I will always strive to make the people around me happy because that makes me happy and yes, I'll fuck up occasionally, I'll be unreasonable, I'll say and do hurtful things because  that's also me, I'm an imperfect person but, I acknowledge that  and more than that, I will openly acknowledge it and I will and do apologise when I'm wrong.  I don't want anyone to carry the burden of my shortcomings and believe that they are the one at fault.

I wont ask someone to change the person they are.  I don't ever want to make someone to feel that panicky desperate to please feeling I used to carry with me on a daily basis. I don't want someone to try and change who they are for me.  I don't want them to feel that I would ever want them to..

I know I'm rambling a bit here but this is something so close to my heart and trying to explain it is far more difficult than I thought it would be ...

In a good relationship there is give and take, there is acceptance and understanding.  There is a desire to protect.  When that turns into control, when it turns into one person endlessly trying to please, when you're 'walking on egg shells', when you're unhappy more than your happy, when you've come to the point where you've stopped trusting the happy times ....

I don't know, where is there to go from there?

I couldn't find anywhere, I couldn't see any way back.  Too much damage had been done and I realised that this wasn't love, it was fear.  I don't even know when that changed because I did love him so very much.

That's just so screwed up!

I was scared of saying or doing the wrong thing to the point where I didn't know what to say or do anymore.  Scrabbling around desperately trying to please, to get it 'right'.  I was scared of losing the person who was making me so unhappy.  A person who wanted (maybe unconciously) to KEEP me unhappy, to keep me unsure, to keep me walking on egg shells because that's the only way they knew how to keep me.  Ex lax didn't want to lose me for many reasons but primarily because in doing that he was the one who had failed. I know that now, how I wish I had then ...

You know what?

I don't even blame him anymore.  He is a product of his upbringing.  Yes, he's a bully and yes, I deserved better.  I'm not going to say he can't help himself, of COURSE he can but in order to do that he would need to recognise his faults, acknowledge his short comings and be accountable for his actions and he truly doesn't see that.

Or maybe he just chooses not to ...

I had a responsibility to myself. To be who I am.  To stand up for myself.  To protect myself and I failed in that for a time.

Although I accept that responsibility I don't blame myself either.  I was on unfamiliar territory. I didn't fully understand and I thought I could 'make it better'.

How many people fall into that trap?

If you find yourself doing things, behaving in ways that you know deep down are ridiculous ask yourself - Is this really what I want to do?  Is this making me happy? Is this something I would have chosen for myself? And maybe most importantly, is this really going to make a difference or will there always be something I'm doing/saying/being that's 'wrong'?

The truth is, I personally don't believe there can ever be a happy ending in these situations. It becomes a self fulfilling prophesy and you end up despising yourself as much as you lose the other persons respect. If you allow someone to have that kind of control over you then they will always keep those goal posts out of reach because diminishing you is the only way they are able to feel strong.

If you write doormat on your forehead don't be surprised when someone walks all over you.

Now I know how incredibly harsh that sounds - remember I've been there! The person walking all over you may well despise themselves for doing it as much as you do for allowing it.  The truth is that no one feels good, no one is happy and most of all:

No one 'wins'.

I don't want that in my life ever again.

I want to add to the lives of those I love not to take things away

I think there really has to be a disclaimer here.

These are my views based on my personal experience.  I don't judge and I don't pretend to know it all.  Everyone's situation is unique.  Everyone has to do what is right for them and in the end I did the only thing I could by ending a relationship that harmed me.

What you see in my blog is a true reflection of the person I am today.  Scatty, prone to those dammed 'things', doing and saying the stupidest stuff etc.

I was going to end this with some kind of uplifting quote about happiness (I'm a great lover of quotes) and so I looked to Oscar Wilde as I often do on these occasions ... Ummm, ok, well this is what he came up with which actually almost says everything I wanted to say:

Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live.
Oscar Wilde 


As in life, the quote isn't perfect - Id actually substitute 'asking' for expecting or even insisting and I'd also say that understanding and compromise along with a large does of unselfishness are key ingredience for true happiness.

Now I think I'm just going to hit publish before my head explodes  - normal service will be resumed shortly ;-)

The (not so) Grown Up Tantrum ....

It's a beautiful day here in Somerset.  I sat in the garden drinking my early morning cup of tea contemplating the latest latest offering from The Lounge.

The Lounge is a brand new linky and it's being hosted this week by Robomum.

The subject this week is Grownup Tantrums!

Do you suffer from them?  Ever thrown a complete hissy fit in public?  Ever snatched the toys out of your toddlers pram and thrown them on the floor (metaphorically speaking of course ;-).

Nup, me either!

It's been well documented that I don't ever in any way, shape or form suffer in the slightest from PSM, hissy fits or tantrums.  Don't believe me?  Well read this post and tell me I'm wrong!

If you needed further proof then let me tell you about yesterday.

Yesterday I was COMPLETELY justified in being slightly irritated when Surfer Dude talked over me.

There was nothing irrational or over the top in my reaction.

Storming out of the room, stamping my feet and slamming the door was a perfectly reasonable response to such outrageously arrogant pig ignorance!!!

Following me out into the garden as I stabbed clothes onto the line with pegs muttering obscenities and offering to help was one of SD's more stupid ideas.

Throwing an armful of clothes onto the decking and, for good measure, ripping the ones I'd already hung on the line off and stamping on them was not, in my humble opinion an over reaction on my part at all!

Sufer Dude then f*cking off (when all I'd actually told him to do was f*ck off) was totally unreasonable and I'm still slightly bemused as to why he left ...

I decided to vent my spleen on my bedroom.

After a pleasant hour of throwing everything out of my wardrobe and drawers and rendering my bedroom into something that resembled a low class jumble sale after  a hoard of rampaging Nanas had stampeded through I sat down and cried for a bit - it was most restorative!

I then spent several hours muttering and swearing at the mess and blowing my nose on anything Ex Lax had ever bought me sorted things into several piles.

Things I hadn't worn for at least 12 months.

Things I've never worn.

Things I should never have worn.

Things I didn't even know I owned and I hope to god I didn't pay good money for.

Things I wouldn't ever wear even if you paid me good money.

Which basically left me in the clothes I was standing in which I pretty much decided I hated too.

Anyway, I've shoved the lot into bin bags ready to go to either Charity Shops or the dump and I shall be spending the summer ...

NAKED!!!!

So no, I'm afraid I'm really struggling to bring a post to the lounge this week because grown up tantrums really are something I know very little about ...

ps - I've decided I might possibly forgive SD at some point in the future (but it's not looking likely for today ... ;-)

Lounging Around - The Fashion Fail Edition

It's Thursday which means it's time for this weeks visit to The Lounge.

This week it's being hosted by none other than the other Sarah Mac aka Slapdash Mama (otherwise known as NS or Namesake - well, by me anyway).

Pop over and read Sarah's blog if you are in need of a laugh - she never fails to make me smile and don't forget to check out a few other entries to The Lounge this week too.

Now I'm going to apologise in advance to anyone who's read this before - I had a brand new post ready to roll today complete with my many, many fashion fails including the time I nearly gave birth through interlocking nylon with the aid of a paramedic called Stan in a broken down lift but I logged in this morning and it's GONE!!!!

I don't know where and I don't know why and I am NOT 'appy!

I will get around to writing it again at some point but I've got my sister arriving from New Zeland later today because tomorrow is my sons wedding.  Yep, tomorrow I shall be Mother of the Groom complete with proper grown up dress and everything (although I have drawn the line at a facinator - sorry NS ;).

If you follow me on Facebook (and if not, please do - just search People blah, blah ...) then you will know that I had a major fashion crisis when I tried on my MOTG dress the other day only to discover that in the couple of weeks since I'd bought it something strange had happened and it suddenly looked completely crap on.  Seriously, it gaped and clung in places it had no business clinging and gaping.

I was DISTRAUGHT!!

Complete meltdown was averted when Miss Mac pointed out that I'd actually put it on back to front .....

Moving on swiftly  ....

Rather than NO post this week for The Lounge I've dug around in my knicker drawer and unearthed an old chestnut (along with a couple of pen lids, an elastic band and a hair grip) and I bring you regurgitated:

 'A Tight Squeeze'

After my post 'Women's Best Kept Secret' I had several comments extolling the benefits of control pants.

As I was writing from the perspective of someone who had never actually worn the things but had gained all her knowledge from Bridget Jones, I decided that maybe it was time I actually put my money where my muffin top is and gave them a go!




Ouch!

First of all I discovered how wrong I was in my assumption that control pants were simply control pants. I whizzed into Marks and Sparks expecting to grab a pair, my only choice being whether to choose black or natural tan. I was slightly nonplussed however to be confronted with a veritable plethora of styles, shapes and sizes.

Aargh!!!

There's the thong (I thought we were holding it in, not letting it all hang out!), a hideous looking thing, like cheese wire attached to a huge stretchy cummerbund. I'm not letting THAT anywhere near my nether regions, Id be scared of being sawn in half!

The high waisted pants, a bit like ordinary 'big' pants with an over sized waistband.


The ones that look a little like tights that have been sawn off at the knees and come right up to your boobs.


Then there were the added extras. Did I want powermesh? For some reason this just reminded me of the pressure washer and my enthusiasm last year in blasting anything and everything in the garden including half the rendering off the garden wall.


I could have a bodysuit with padding, boning,  under-wire, detachable straps and suspenders, well, quite frankly, I have something very similar already in black silk and lace which I'm pretty sure (in the moment of passion) would detract from any errant rolls of flesh anyway.


Some of them solved the question of 'how the bloody hell do you go to the loo' by being CROTCHLESS!! Is it only me that thinks that just renders the whole point of knickers well ........  pointless?


Other have either hooks and eyes or popper fastenings at the crotch to allow easy access and flow.


You wont catch me out with THAT one!!!


I remember my clubbing days when the 'body' was in fashion. Yes it gave you a sleek outline and no, you didn't have to worry about it becoming untucked. But try going to the loo in one when you're pissed ? Forget it!!


Scrabbling round trying to undo poppers when I could barely stand unaided. Giggling like a maniac while I peered at my crotch trying to focus on itsy, bitsy hooks and eyes and eventually grabbing the material with both hands an ripping the damn thing off in desperation with an accompanying TA DA, the sound of little bits of metal ricocheting off the cubical walls before my poor over loaded bladder gave up the unequal struggle and I pee'd myself.


Many's the time I've chuckled to myself as some poor girl (having failed to lock the door properly) has come head first at a gallop out of a cubicle, jeans round her ankles, clutching her dignity and landed face down on the floor.

I did eventually narrow my choices down and so, £26.99 lighter I left clutching my carrier bag and scuttled home before I could either bumped into someone I knew who could enquire about my purchase or (horror of horrors) give in to my latent tenancy to Coprolalia and stand in the middle of the store waving my big knicks over my head shouting fuck, fuck, SHAAAAG leaving everyone in no doubt that I thought I might just be on to a winner wearing these.

Things YOU Wouldn't Do

Today's link up at The Lounge is Freaky - I think I probably linked this one up before and It's more of a 'freaked out' post than a freaky post but it all I've got:

Yesterday after a conversation with a friend, I suggested that my next blog post could be something along the lines of the things I've done that normal people probably wouldn't.

When he said 'That would be an incredibly long blog post ....' I have to admit to being slightly affronted!

Bloody cheek!

How dare he.

How dare he be so ...

So ...

SO. ...

RIGHT!

I'm FULL of great ideas.

That's why Thursday evening found me straddling a sheep as it repeatedly smacked the crap out of my face with it's bony little head.

Remember I told you a couple of weeks ago that we were going to get a cute little lambykin to keep the goat company?

Cute little lambykins grow people - cute little lambykins fucking grow!!!

Not only had that cute little sucker almost doubled in size in the last two weeks - she is now slightly bigger than my dog Gus and twice his weight but she had also been out in the field and suddenly wasn't quite so people friendly.  Added to which she was extremely pissed off at having her ears tagged that morning.

A couple of weeks ago when she had been cute and cuddly and tried climbing out of the pen so I could scratch her behind the ears it had all seemed like such a doddle.  She was going to sit on my lap on the way to the farm while I told her tales of how lovely life was going to be as she frolicked in the paddock with her soon to be big sis the nanny goat.

Cue reality check!!

I got into the back of the van and opened my arms for a woolly little bundle of fluffiness and Will (who's bastard sheep it was) heaved this thrashing mass of pissed off mutton with flailing legs into my arms.

WHAAAH!!!

I grabbed a hank of oily wool in each hand and looked into it's mean little eyes - 'GET OFF MY FUCKING FOOT YOU BASTARD' I crooned lovely in it's fluffy little ear.

It headbutted me.

'KEEP STILL AND STOP FUCKING HEADBUTTING ME' I whispered soothingly.

It headbutted me again.

'GET OFF MY FUCKING FOOT - STOP HEADBUTTING ME AND DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE SHIT ON MY FOOT'

It headbutted me again, shit on my foot and then SAT on it!!!

Will (the bastard)  had been watching all this with great amusement eventually stepped in and said 'try this' as he whipped her head around to the side and appeared to almost insert it up her rectum.

I tried it.

She headbutted me.

'Ok, try THIS' he said not even trying to control his mirth and he picked up one of her legs and held it under her belly.

I tried it.

She headbutted me.

'Hang on' said Will and he disappeared for a couple of minutes and returned with a paper feed sack.

He popped it over her head and half her body.

'That should calm her down he said'.

Phew!!!

Then she headbutted me.

Next followed the longest 20 minutes of my entire life as we drove to the farm.

I was hanging off my seat with my legs clamped around her fat little belly.  One hand gripping her wool so tightly my hand still hurts, the other holding the bag over her head as she shouted really loudly in my ear and smacked me in the face every couple of seconds.

SD of course thought I was making a fuss about nothing!!

Ive no idea what the people in the car that pulled up beside us at the lights thought but I could see them all looking on in opened mouthed horror at this screaming harpy in the back of a van who appeared to be riding a large thrashing, paper bag as it bleating frantically and she shouted 'keep still you little fucker unless you want me to shove your head right back up you arse again!'

Could Do Better

Hey guys, there's a brand new linkie over at the Lounge.  I love me a good linkie and this one looks like it could be set to run.  It's being hosted this week by Musings of the Misguided so feel free to either write your own post and link up or just pop over and check out a few of the other entries.

The theme this week is: WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WOULD BE BETTER AT BY NOW?

As you all know, I am (a self confessed) expert in certain thing.  Need some  Relationship Guidance?  Look no further!!  I'll have you back on track in No time at all! (well, on A track anyway - it may not be the one I intended but you know, a tracks a track isn't it ....).

Village pub dress code when your knobbish first ever boyfriend suddenly makes an appearance after 20 odd years? (yes, I KNOW that's possibly a niche market but that's exactly why you need expert advice innit?).

What to wear for a day's blackberry picking with a randy bull and a little kitten wrangling thrown in (most of my posts seem to have a  fashionista element to them you know - I really AM something of an expert in this field ... well, maybe just in fields really ... ;)

The perfect seduction kit (with a little seduction advice thrown in).

You get the picture?

Like I said, I'm pretty much an expert in many, MANY areas so this was always going to be a challenge for me and what better way to get started than to make a list ....

I'm NOT so good with  lists ....

I misplace them (I will NOT have it said I lose them ok?) - I doodle on them until I can't read them, I spill stuff on them and on occasion I think I might possibly eat them ...

I write myself helpful lists to ensure maximum productivity look:

If it all seems too hard a few minor adjustments suddenly makes everything SO simple

I sometimes look at my list with slight bemusement.  When I wrote knob on my list (I mused) did I need to buy one or was I simply making a statement?

If all else fails and I am slightly downcast at my inability to tick things off my list well then, I just improvise!

So I started to make a list of all those things I thought I'd be better at by now.  I categorised them, made sub lists and sub lists within sub lists and then it occurred to me.

It was SIMPLE!

The things I really thought I'd be better at by now all come down to one thing.

I THOUGHT ID BE BETTER AT BEING A GROWN UP BY NOW!!

If nothing you've read has convinced you yet that I really suck at being a grown up then let me tell you about yesterday.

Yesterday was a beautiful day and so I decided it was time to clean my decking.

Off I trotted around the corner to borrow my neighbours pressure cleaner.

I knocked on the door and walked in as I always do and Dennis was nowhere to be seen.

I hovered for a bit whistling loudly in case he was in the loo when he appeared from the back garden.

'Sorry' he said, 'I was just trimming my bush round the back'.

'SNORT!!!'

'It's got really thick and bushy again' he went on - 'the electric trimmers don't touch it anymore, I've had to get out my big chopper' (actually, he really said saw but that doesn't sound so funny ;)

'SNORT, WHAAA, HIC'

Now Dennis is 70ish and didn't have a bloody clue why I was finding all this so funny.  I did briefly consider enlightening him but settled for pretending I had hay fever instead.

Off I trotted pressure washer in tow and started blasting the shit out of everything in my path (in the process covering MYSELF in 10 different kinds of shit - why does no one ever warn you about splash back???)..

My boredom threshold is pretty low and I soon got fed up blasting the decking and moved onto the shed taking most of the paint off the bottom of it and blasting little paint chips all over myself, the fence, my plants and a little right over the wall into my neighbours garden.  I'd forgotten how powerful those things were!

Suddenly there was a huge BANG!

Bloody hell, I'd only gone and blown the end clean off Dennis's hose!!!

I chased that slippery little thing all over the garden as it thrashed about squirting everywhere (I know, I could have just turned the tap off but that's what a GROWNUP  would do isn't it?) while the pressure washer made loud chugging noises and I ran around shouting, 'damn you Dennis and your unpredictable hose - when I get hold of it .... !!!' (please feel free to insert appropriate expletives at this point including intended places to insert it!).

So yes, the day that started so peacefully with clear blue skies and a hot air balloon passing over my house descended into chaos with me chasing a recalcitrant hosepipe all over my garden screaming obscenities as it sprayed me with freezing cold water which at least cleaned some of the crap off me but did very little to further my reputation on the neighbourhood.

One day I might be better at being a grown up but yesterday was not that day and it's unlikely that today will be either ;-)