My Family and Other Animals

My all time favourite book (and such a great title).

If I were half the writer Gerald Durrell was I would be very, very happy. His narrative is wonderfully descriptive, his observations fascinating and his love of life infectious. He truly would be my fantasy dinner companion.

Since I've started my blog I've been fortunate enough to come across some amazing story tellers including http://mrlondonstreet.blogspot.com/  http://domesticatedbohemian.blogspot.com/ and http://theviewfromthisend.blogspot.com/

(I know there is a better way to link to other blogs and when I find out how, I will use it, promise!)

I read lots of different blogs and probably spend far too much time doing it and I read them all for different reasons. Some make me laugh, some make me think and some completely captivate me and I can't wait for the next instalment.

It worries me that there are so many as yet, undiscovered (by me) blogs out there, I'm almost too scared to look.

Gerald and I share some similarities in our background. We both come from large, eccentric families with Mothers who cook and absent Fathers. We both shared a love of animals and solitude in our childhoods, no doubt being the result of living in said families.

The main differences between Gerald and myself (apart from the obvious) were that he was spent a large part of his childhood in Corfu whilst mine was spent in South Devon. He was home schooled where as I had the pleasure of Stevens Coaches to take me the hours bus ride to school up on Dartmoor, a perilous journey fraught with crashes, breakdowns and drivers that frankly wouldn't wouldn't stand a hope in hell of passing a CRB check these days!

I love my family, even more so now we are scattered around the globe and I love my animals because, well, they love me.

As I type I have a small furry black and white kitten named Bear curled up on my knee, purring like a mini Harley. Gus, My Border Collie is flat out on the floor, shattered after our trip to the park, one of the (many) good things about Border Collies is their herding instinct so, even though I'm reduced to a very slow hobble at the moment I can stand in the park holding a stick and say to Gus, 'round and round' and he will happily run in large circles around me while I occasionally throw the stick for him to retrieve. Thus, he is exercises with very little effort on my part.

I also have Tilly, my cat and new Mum tucked up in a box under the table with her three kittens snuggled up against her, what a good Mum she's turned out to be, I'm thinking of hiring her out as an example to some of the Mums I see in the park. One today had her two children strapped in a pushchair RIGHT NEXT TO THE SWINGS!! What kind of torture is that for a small child?

There she was, gossiping with a friend while her children sat there watching others run around having fun. When they started to complain she turned to them and said 'will ya shut up, I'm 'avin a fag'. Gus and I were half tempted to offer to play with them ourselves.

Upstairs is Figgy (the hamster) so called because he is small, round and full of fruit and nuts just like a figgy pudding.

I'm feeling slightly guilty now that while I can wax lyrical about my animals, my family hardly warrants a mention ….............. ok, I'm over it, after all, they aren't likely to read this are they? They may well have the odd cameo part in any future diary entries, then again, they may not. One thing you can be sure of, the animals almost certainly will!

Fleeting Friendships

On Saturday I spent the day with my ex times 2.

It's been 15 years since we were a couple and, although there have been long periods of time when we haven't seen each other at all, we have always had the common bond of our son and our friendship. 

He is someone I always know I can call on.  Someone I know won't judge me. Someone who will always stand up for me even if I'm wrong and someone who only wants the best for me.  In return, I will always be there for him, he's not just an ex, he's family.

A day out on the hills to blow away the cobwebs and give the dog a change of scenery was just what I needed.  A distraction from the children being away and a break from routine.

There was also the added benefit of getting up close and personal with some Exmoor ponies  including a mare with her young foal.

All friendships change and evolve over time.  Some will stay with us forever, some are fleeting and leave us with happy memories and some, we come to realise, were never based on true friendship at all.


In my childhood I used to spend a week or two in the Summer at my Aunt and Uncles, sometimes on my own, sometimes with one of my sisters.

Aunty Peggy and Uncle Bill were really my Great Aunt and Uncle my mother being an only child.  They lived in a small village near the sea in South Devon just a few miles from our little village by the sea, but it meant a whole host of new friends to play with.

I remember, one summer,  a girl called Lucy.  She seemed to me to have everything.  I'm not sure why, maybe it was just that she was different to me. 

She was holidaying with her Father, her Mother having died the year before.  That was the first difference I suppose, Id never known anyone who's mother had died before. 

I grew up without my father and I was fascinated by their relationship. They shared a closeness that in my make believe world I could share with my own father. 

The second thing was that she convinced me that she had made friends with a Starling she called Smarty.  We used to stand in the late afternoon, before teatime watching the great clouds of Starlings wheeling overhead and she would call to Smarty.  Of course he never came but, being a child, I assumed it was because I was there. Had I not been I never doubted he would have swooped down and landed on her hand and they would have talked.  The thing is, I still truly believe that Lucy believed that too.

I don't know what happened to Lucy after that summer, I don't know if she remembers me or Smarty. I don't even remember saying goodbye ......... 

Hopscotch

Im a bit of a blogging virgin but Im learning stuff all the time.

One of the first things I discovered was the blog hop thanks to Allison over at the Pink Fibro http://lifeinapinkfibro.blogspot.com/

It's a great way to find new blogs and to share your own stories with others.

What I haven't quite got the hang of is linking back.  'Grab my button' they say, but I dont know how :(   I can see other people have and I've looked on the help but its all double Dutch to me!

The other day I posted on a great blog hop at Maxabellas and I thought Id linked back but obviously I'd done something wrong and it didn't appear.

Luckily I DO know how to cut and paste so, apologies Maxabella and thank you for your kind words and I hope that anyone who reads this post will pop over for a visit, I know I'll be back.

Sarah x
http://maxabellaloves.blogspot.com/

A Bear of Little Brain

With a coat of many colours.

I need an accident prone cat like I need a hole in the head, which incidentally is Bears latest affliction.



Bear in his brief black and white phase



In his very short life (Bear is only 4 months old) he has been black and white, (this is his original colour). Blue where the front-line took the dye out of his collar, orange where I foolishly emptied the leftover pasta sauce into the bin without checking for small cats first and yellow where I sprayed him with antiseptic after Tilly (18 months and mother to three beautiful kittens) took a chunk out of him for playing kitten skittles.



Tilly and her babies



He's also been shut in the door and extricated from behind the Merchants Chest in my dining room when I came home to find a vertical Bear wedged between it and the wall with just a little black and white bottom and a furiously thrashing tail on view.

I guess every household has their fair share of accidents well, EXCEPT the one who apparently doesn't have ANY because I have their share!

The only animal so far to escape this curse is Tilly, she is a sensible cat and doesn't stray far from home (or reside in the bin).

Even the hamster's had a op for a hernia!



My mate Gus



Gus (my border Collie) like the dramatic gesture. At just over a year old he ran full pelt into the goalpost at the park damaging his shoulder, he still walks with a slight limp. Last year he got a bone the size and shape of an arrow head stuck in his throat necessitating a call out from the vets and an 80 quid call out charge BEFORE he even did anything!

I do kind of feel I got my moneys worth with that one though.

I was crouching down holding Gus while the vet administered the aesthetic before removing the bone. As I stood up my knee dislocated, a not uncommon occurrence since I snapped my knee cap while trying to …...... (well, THAT'S another story!). The vet was somewhat surprise when I collapsed on the floor whimpering in agony. Well, to be honest, I actually collapsed onto his lap as we were all on the floor at that stage.

I'm not sure if his first thought wasn't that this was my slightly strange way of trying to proposition him in an attempt to have the bill reduced.

Anyway, he sorted us both out and waved us off at the door. Poor old Gus staggering about like he'd had one over the eight as the aesthetic wore off. Me trying to hold him up as I hobbled up the road cursing my damn knee. I can only imagine the sight we made for any passers by but frankly, at the time, I really didn't care.

My trips to A&E have been fairly frequent over the years too.

I have two children with matching scars over their left eyebrows and one who's been rushed in with two BB pellet related incidents.

Just in case you think I'm in the habit of shooting Master Mac, neither one was as a result of over zealous parental discipline. I actually have an aversion to all forms of firearm, toy or otherwise (NOT that I categorise BB guns as toys!)

The first time was when Master Mac found a BB pellet, god knows where it had come from. He was about 4 at the time so Miss Mac must have been three.

The first I knew of it was when Miss Mac said her brother had wanted to put it up her nose but she didn't want him too. Good girl I said, so where is it now? He put it in his ear Mummy she replied and it wont come out!

The second time was a couple of months ago at a friends house when he was shot in the eye! Fortunately there hasn't been any permanent damage but we did spend a couple of days in hospital and many weeks of eye drops and visits to the eye clinic.

The waiting around at the hospital tended to get a bit boring so, as a JOKE I suggested we play i spy. I know, not very caring of me ….

Well, it backfired on me, instead of being able to read all the beautiful back issues of House and Home thoughtfully provided by the lovely hospital staff I spent a total of 6 hours trying to guess what it was that began with the letters PS (it was the lady who had walked through the eye clinic wearing purple sandles!).



Yes I was caught with my arse in the air bending down to do this because
 Master Mac thought this would make an amusing photo!



We did find other ways to amuse ourselves though.

Who am I? (clue: I am NOT a Waitress) - The Lounge Edition

T

I'd Like to Present

Last night I was given the BEST present ever!!

Ok, 369 pouches of cat food might not be top of everyone's wish list but with 5 hungry feline mouths to feed it comes pretty close to the top of mine!

Not only will it save me a fortune but it will also stop me from dragging my knuckles along the floor after lugging home half a ton of Whiskers each week along with 4 bags of cat litter, a huge bag of dog food, sawdust for the hamster ect.

Anyway, it got me thinking about presents Id been bought in the past, the good and the NOT so good.

The first truly great present I remember was when I was six. We were living in Australia at the time and, on Christmas morning, outside my bedroom door was the most beautiful dolls house Id ever seen.

Looking back, it was probably quite an ordinary dolls house really, but to me it was my very own pretend little home ad I loved it.

Many years later and with my own daughter now I was lucky enough to see in the window of a Charity Shop a dolls house the like of which I haven't seen before or since.

It was completely furnished, decorated for Christmas with tiny paper chains, the works. I (ah hem, my Daughter HAD to have it!!!) It even has a little bay window on the side and electrics (I must get them fixed one day). It's a little bit battered these days, I never did get round to putting it in a glass case and forbidding her to play with it. One day I will find someone who knows about such things and get it restored.

Possibly the worst present I've ever received was from an ex boyfriend. He'd been on holiday (without me!!) and on his return handed me a beautifully wrapped gift complete with tissues paper, ribbons and bows.

I was SO excited. Partly because he'd been thinking of me while he was away but mostly because I LOVE presents.

I poked and prodded it for a while trying to guess what it was and then, unable to contain my excitement any longer ripped the covering off to reveal ….............

A sodding FLOWER PRESS!!!!!

I wonder what the best (and worst ) presents other people have received? (By the way, if it was something from me I only want to hear about the best. I still have that flower press and I'm not afraid to recycle!)

The Importance of Saying Sorry

Everybody gets it wrong sometime. We all have times in our lives when the stresses and strains of day to day life get us down. They make us unreasonable and behave in ways that hurt other people.

Sometimes it's in a relationship. We may feel undervalued or unimportant and so we do and say things either in a conscious desire to hurt or in a desperate attempt to make ourselves feel like we matter,

Sometimes we lash out at our friends or family. Often its as a result of well meaning advice. When you are so wrapped up in your own little bubble of unhappiness it can seem so patronising for someone else to say that they understand how you feel. To suggest ways that you could change things, to tell you you're getting it wrong.

Sometimes we hurt our children. When we are unhappy we are less tolerant, less able to deal with the day to day round of cooking, cleaning, homework and bickering. Sometimes even their love seems unbearably claustrophobic.

Sometimes, no matter how many people surround you, no matter how much love and kindness they show you. No matter how much you know you have to be grateful for, you feel alone, isolated and lost.

Sometimes you just have to be allowed to work through this and no amount of advice or cajoling and sometimes even well meaning bullying will make it happen any quicker.

Sometimes we need to make sense of it all.

Saying sorry doesn't change what's been said or done. Saying sorry doesn't take away the hurt that someone else has inflicted on you.

But saying sorry IS an acknowledgement, an acceptance that what has happened was wrong And SOMETIMES that can make all the difference.

I believe in saying sorry. If I snap at my children (which I often do), I tell them I'm sorry. I tell them I may not like the way they have behaved or something they have said but it's the action I dislike, not the child. The child I love.

Sometimes it's not them at all, it's me. I'm unhappy, worried, feeling stressed or upset at someone else's actions. Sometimes my children suffer because of this and I'm unreasonable, I'm short tempered. I'm not the mother I want to be

If I can teach my children one thing I would like it to be responsibility. I want them to understand that although sorry may just be a small word and although sometimes it feels like the hardest word to say. Its one of the most important word they will ever learn.

Telling someone you are sorry and genuinely meaning it is lifting a burden from that person. Allowing them to move forward without that feeling that somehow it's their fault that they deserved to be hurt.

Being sorry is important for you. Telling someone you are sorry is important for them.

I'll never be afraid to say I'm sorry and I'll always feel sad for those who don't value it's importance.