(Un) Guilty Pleasure No 1.

There is something innate in all of us, that keeps us from being readily open to admit to liking certain somethings. A song, magazine, hobby, food choice, item of clothing, film, keepsakes ect. Simple things that we couldn't live without for it makes our day just that little bit easier to pass. It comes in all shapes, sizes and forms.

I used to be a bit paranoid when I revealed what my favourite 'show' was! After having cable television installed in 1996, I saw this programme once and I was hooked, but people scoffed so I tended to keep it to myself. It didn't have a fit bloke in it, nor was it a cartoon or Jerry Springer, or Scottish soap opera. It was Judge Judy!

I now say that with pride. I haven't missed an episode in the 13 years it's been available in Britain. On holidays or in class, reminders were always set or sent. Life wasn't worth living if anyone forgot to press that record button!

The woman is flawless in her judgements, never misses a thing. Compared to other Judgey shows (eat your heart out Brown, Hatchett and Ephriam) they just 'ain't got the primal flair of Judy. In, out, no mucking about. I adore her patter, balls, orderly structure, the way she reduces older children to tears if they try to piss her about and despite her eyebrows from Hell - compassion.

Sure, Judy is raking in millions from her shows, and I don't blame her. She's paid her dues tenfold. Her 25 years served as a family court judge has huge impact on her small claims courtroom results. Cases with children are the ones that fire her up the most if she feels kids are suffering at the hands of useless and selfish parents. And woe-betide any claiment that interrups her a time too many. But some of the things she's had to deal with in court! There even was an earthquake as she interrogated!

I have seen episodes where some-one was sued over a bit driftwood, a woman suing her 78 year old neighbour, as the old dear posted a community flyer through her door and her Jack Russell hurt it's leg jumping for up for it and wanted the poor old sod to pay the medical bills and two old men fighting over whose space for their garbage bins it was! She goes nuts at these ridiculous cases -nuts! But I suppose my favourite episode was when John Lydon (Sex Pistols) appeared suing his mate over music copyrights or something. He was effing and blinding a bit, but the ex-punk who vowed he would never say sorry to anyone, was forced by Judy to apologise to Byrd - her courtroom officer. He did, albeit a very sarcastic apology, but the very word parted from his lips! Go Judy! You are my heroine!

So there you have it. My guilty pleasure in the open. My adoration doesn't quite go to the lengths of the tattooed bloke , but I reckon a tee shirt with her face on it shouting 'Baloney' wouldn't be too criminal....!

'Ears A Turn Up For His Looks!

My gorgeous and clever son, Ross, makes me so proud. In his music and sound production studies he zaps me speechless with what he can come out with. Words that I'll probably never be able to understand (or spell without checking!). Polar patterns. Equilization. Anatomy and Construction of the Ear. Quantization. Psychoacoustics. Destructive Phasing Interference. And such like wordies. Pretty impressive. The only thing I know about ears is that if you don't stick your fingers in your lugholes enough, they get waxy - something that is to do with sound. Wax build up is down to the amount of sound level you're exposed to! (So THAT'S why my 2 boys needed extra scraping out over the years! Thank you, Ross, for at least educating your mother about something I do, partly, understand).

So then, why with such knowledge and musical talent (and he's got highers and everyfink) could he not manage to work out how to turn up and shorten the sleeves of his shirt and button them smooth for his night out last night? Both sleeves looked like a ra-ra skirt I once wore in the 80's. God, origami would have been easier than the state he left the sleeves in!

"It's true then, that there's some things only mothers can do!"
he exclaimed after I saved him the struggle.

And the problem was sorted as shown. Not quite equiliberryhearypolarpattycake stuff - but it's not that difficult. Surely..?

Bye Bye, Tarot.....

You'll remember from a few blogs ago how I told of my best friend and neighbours' Doberman being of ill health? Tarot has since passed away. I have never seen my mate Liz so distraught. I felt it for her housemate, Tam, too, who helped look after the dogs. I think we both were trying to be brave for her sake, but I still felt totally lost. I was by her side the second I was told. He was a remarkable dog with boundless love and friendliness. The biggest example ever of 'bark worse than it's bite' for he truly was a gentle giant.

On Saturday I doggie sat her other Doberman, Tealc, while she and Tam fetched Tarot's ashes. It's amazing how animals sense when life's not the same. He lay up in the settee, not interested in playing and it took around 2 hours of encouragement to get him to spend some sun in the garden with me. All he wanted was his friend and owners back.

When they did return a few hours later, I held Tarot in his oak and gold urn for a few minutes and said my goodbye's. Bereavement will now take it's course. But I can't say enough how much this gorgeous canine was adored and cared for along life's difficult journeys.

Sadly, these are all the only pictures of me with him that my son Adam took on his camera-phone thingy a couple of years ago one doggie sitting session. I can still feel the sloppy countless kisses on me yet! Bye Bye big guy!

Casino - Take Two

It's not quite fitting in but at least I've got it in the blog this time! Thank you, Jay. I'll master it one of these days! So for those who haven't yet seen it, I'll keep it up for a bit longer here and a little feedback would be great! These comments have boosted the guys no end. A huge thanks, everyone!...Lena....xxx




ps.....I will be posting on the Nippy Side tomorrow!
pss....I'm a smart arse - I managed to work out how to shrink to fit!

Can You Spare Me A Few........?

I'm not asking a lot this week. Just a few minutes of your time to listen to my son's band Casino (he's the drummer!) and tell me what you think of their new video The High! Don't worry, it's easily listening and over 40 friendly! And you'll find it to your right on my profile (the top one). I know I bang on about my offspring a lot but the guys worked so hard on their music and for uni students with part time work and constant gigging I commend them very much! Remember to double click for the full pic!

Thank you

Lena
XxX

ps......if anyone can tell me how to actually pop a video into a blog I'd be grateful. I've forgotten!



pss or pps or whatever....just a reminder that I have another blog on the go, too, that one may want to visit. What Lena Leaves can be a bit boring at times!

http://tigerlilley.blogspot.com/

Coincidentally........?

I've decided it's done to me on purpose. As a fairly quiet, easy-going, okey-dokey type of girl, I really do just want the simple things in life to be that, but alas, it didn't quite work out like that. It's the past 15 years that the little idiosyncrasies have arisen. I'll start with my children.

Of my three gorgeous offspring, their arrival dates in the world were as follows: St.Valentine's Day, St.Andrew's Day and Hogmanay! Now being Scottish, 2 out of 3 ain't bad, but the buck don't stop there. They are so fitting to these dates.

Kerri, my oldest, born on Dec 31st (Hogmanay in Scotland) is still a party animal. Despite her 11 years in London, she still makes it up with her hubby, James, on her birthday for the Edinburgh Street Party. Kerri turned 18 on the last day of the old millenium and THAT was the party of her milestone-turning life. Not bad planning if I really tried, but it wasn't until she turned a teenager that I realised this. Kerri arrived slap bang in the middle of the two due dates I was given! That's my girl!

Next come my two Saints:

Ross (full Christian name Peter-Ross with a hyphen but not many mates know that!) was born on St.Valentines Day. Now, I hate to admit it (because he is the vainest git I know - but a git with a huge heart) he is an extremely handsome young man. Genetically, he took more from his dad's side than mine and with a snout like mine, I am thankful! But the girls have been falling at his feet since primary school. Mother's telling me how their daughter's adore him and one even said that her girl had carved his name inside their new kitchen cupboards! Cards, gifts and phone calls have flooded in over the years but more so on Valentines' Days. One who didn't have to lie about the amount of cards he got. And on HIS birthday, too! Did he brag? The little shit gave it laldy. At least when it did come to girlfriends he settled for a bit. Hopefully his now girlfriend will be the one. I adore her scatty head and inability to tell the time! Ross came bang on his due date!

Now, Adam was born on St.Andrews Day (November 30th). My little mite. The one the nurses told me at 7am wouldn't be born until the afternoon, and who arrived at 7.30am amid a whammy of unprepared staff and unprepared vaginas. Born with bruising to the face and black eyes because of the quick compression. He had this mass of golden hair with distinctive red through it. The only baby in the ward among the vast amount of dark or hairless miracles, he was named the Golden Child by the nurses. Was something of a show piece in his incubator for both the bruises and the napper. That wasn't his only party-piece. Born two weeks early, he arrived on his Grandpa Frank's birthday, too! Sadly he never got to meet his father's father (who was English) but took his name, as was planned, in his full title of Adam Frank Thomas. He kept the hair only it went more ginger as he grew. Oh, those true Scots with their red hair. I've a picture of him in a kilt I'll need to post soon. These days he's dark haired no thanks to music and hairdye but only this morning he said he wanted to get back to natch. Gingers just look like they're balding when the roots grow in.

So, if you're not already bored, let me add a little more to the run of things. Not only did I remarry after my daughter, I also married taking on a surname that was the same (in pronunciation anyhow) as my daughter's Christian name! Oh, how I joyed telling her on our wedding day that she was to be called Kerri Kerry henceforth. Even at 8 she knew we were bluffing, but it was worth a shot! I also ended up with the same name as my mother-in-law as we shared first-names. The story of the nurse and the enema may surface one of these days!

So to say that I've had a bit of explaining over the phone and so forth goes without doubt. But there was one last bit of coincidence that almost topped the lot. In the below pictures are my daughter holding my 6 month old niece, Rachel Kerri, and one of Kerri herself at 6 months. Taking the pictures and putting the faces together I cannot believe how astonishingly similar the ' 6 months' cousins are. And if only my little sis had refused the morphine which slows birth down, they'd have shared the same birthday, too. Rachel Kerri was born in the early hours of New Years' Day! I'm happy to report that it's been 5 years since any other birth or name has popped up on days of significance or just out of pure coincidence. Oh, and I almost forgot, I'm an identical twin, too! I've some stories I could tell you, of how we've fooled people - but a long time ago!

A Lifetime Away.

I haven't got dressed today. It's been kinda weird. It's not because I'm depressed about anything in particular - well, probably these pyjamas, but they're replaceable. Time isn't.

This morning my oldest son went back to college for his 3rd year. It was just an enrollment day and a meeting with his lecturers and teachers for his timetable and so forth, so he was back by 11am. He saw I was teary eyed as I asked him how he got on. I was shown his new timetable and he said he'd had a word with 'Big John' - who's only 5 foot 2, and his lecturer from last year - and he said his recommendation for appliance to university this November was himself and his band-mate, Scott (wee Mick).

They both have passed the requirements that will lead them on to sitting their Masters degree in music and sound recording at Edinburgh uni - and that's when my stomach lurched. Not for a sodding year yet and already I'm wondering what's gonna fill the gap. For the first year there they get Halls Of Residence accommodation and then have to find lodgings but there's usually enough mates to share scruffy pads with and share the rent ect. He has said he will come home at week ends but I'm not so sure.

Who will I nag then for leaving his phone charger plugged in? Who will give me bags under the eyes when his besotted girlfriend comes to the door at 3 in the morning coz she's missing him? Who's ears can I inspect after each bath or shower he takes to make sure he's stuck his fingers in the lugholes enough for a good clean out? The list could go on. I know it's a year away, but it'll whizz by. I knew he was sensing all this, I didn't have to say a word. They know. Told me that there is lots of courses at college for people of any age. Even older than me! One has a walking stick! Bless him.

Before we knew it we were bonding. Just him and me. Something we don't do that often. But we sat and watched the Xmas special DVD's of The Office. It made us laugh together and he knew as much as me that the ending would bring a lump to both our throats and we would struggle to see who kept their cheeks dry the longest. I won. I had to.

Bravery is something I'm rather short on. But when it comes to parenting you need it. It's vital. It's just that there are no scissors sharp enough to fully cut away that cord. And I know that I'll have to get used to not being able to wind it in when I feel like it.

Relight My Ire!

Please take a couple of minutes to read the below link:

http://www.thescottishsun.co.uk/scotsol/homepage/news/2601333/Good-kids-out-ASBO-yobs-in.html

The lad to the extreme left is Blair, a best friend of my son, Adam. He has been so enthusiastic in his cadet training. Blair and his family live directly across the road from us and we have been good friends for the whole of the boys' lives. The lad is a good-natured, law abiding, mega-funny and popular young man. I've always had a soft spot for Blair, you can't help but like him and I've so many memories of him and my boys. It was no surprise that he'd choose a career as such.

As you can imagine, his parents and whole family are so proud of him - especially 'Greta', the nickname he uses for his granny Edna. But they're not the only ones. The first time I saw Blair in his uniform I struggled to hide the tears. How joyous it is to see a youngster looking ahead to his future and enthuse over such a noble occupation. He looked so grown up when it really wasn't that long ago he was swapping Pokemon cards, going swimming with us, tents and trampolines out the back. If a kid ever deserved such a uniform, it was Blair.

What a hard blow to a bunch of kids who were willing to put their future lives on the line in the name of duty. I do believe in second chances and rehabilitation but this is an out and out slap in the face. Quite simply, I'm blazing mad!

I'll leave you with a few pictures of our little hero from my family album. I know he'll keep his hopes alight and earn that hose one day!

The first time we saw him in uniform.

A proud-chested pose-------------------------------

My daughter Kerri wishing him well on a recent visit.

Drawing Nearer.

I'm sitting here right now, glancing out of the bedroom window. It's 9pm and almost dark. Perhaps the fact that it's a shitty night in Scotland is adding to early dusk but it's a real pleasure to see.

I'm not gloomy by nature nor a killjoy by any means. I just adore winter and long, dark nights. To be honest, I'm the only one I know that prefers winter to any other season. My favourite bit? When it's dark by 4.30pm. I love the house to be cozy, smelling of homemade soup and in jimjams by 5pm, with a bowl of ham broth and chunky bread on a tray in front of me. Then I enjoy a nights sleep that I know will content my resting soul, no birds nor light to disturb it too soon.

Nights out are more joyous. Especially if it's a cool, calm sky studded with stars. My particular joys are on bonfire night, and the whole of December. Fireworks and fairy lights deem more colour than even the flowers of summer. Againts dark backgrounds they are hypnotically vibrant. Colours feed off the night.

If I'm really lucky there will be snow at some point. Making my own creations from piles of the stuff can see me out in it for hours. To the point of my toes turning blue and numb. But at least there is one more advantage that winter holds over summer. It's ME who dictates how warm I want to be and not mother nature giving me no choice in the matter.

Carpe Noctum.......

No Need For Rain!

Oh, well! It's typical really that the rain put the boot in for my youngest, Adam! Him and his friends were all geared up for their Band In A Van gig that the local council Rock The Talk project arranged. It was to be placed in Callendar Park in Falkirk, right in front of the big house!

Being 'No Need For Idols' first public gig, they were excited as hell. They even managed to pop in a quick set in my house before the designated time of appearance! Then the promoters called to cancel. The stage was too open and a danger to appliances ect, as the rain rained on. Of all the days of the week, it had to choose Friday!

They had parents aplenty with lenses aplenty to capture them on, and even more disappointed than the band members at the cancelation. They even had the local rag interview to help kick-start them into musicdom! Ah, well. What does an element-defeated band do? Just get on with a future show and write new stuff! So here's a picture of the main songwriter's (Oliver and Adam) jammin' on. And just because, here's their bit of fame from the local rag:
http://www.falkirkherald.co.uk/interviews/No-Need-For-Idols-not.5550851.jp - definitely no need for them matches and wheely bins, James!!

But here's the link to when they really started a mere 2 years ago. Can't believe the change in them!

http://s205.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid205.photobucket.com/albums/bb269/Serenity-cherry/ADAMANDOLIVERROCK.flv&fs=1&os=1&ap=1

Painful Paws.

I'm in a kind of limbo of emotion right now. I'm both excited that my boys' bands are both doing great but dreading hearing the news I don't want to hear from my best friend and neighbour, Liz, next door.

Choosing not to have children, Liz's love in abundance is lavished on her pets, although both her and the friend she shares her house with, Tam, have been surrogate parents to my own offspring. Over the past 8 years of living next door to me, they have had to say goodbye to 3 of their cats. All lived to grand ages, but sadly, Tam's cat, Nico, died on his birthday. One year he won't ever forget. Right now, I'm worried for them both.

Liz's has two Doberman Pinschers and her older dog, Tarot, is 12 and in poor health. It could be any day now that he passes. It is something that is unavoidable but each day is a bonus. I visited him recently, and the old guy actually dragged himself upright to walk over and greet me, with his stumpy little tail going like the clappers. It was a shock and a total honour. One, I'm happy to say, that was caught on film.

On ocassions, I've doggysat for Tarot - sometimes before his younger companion, Tealc, came on the scene 4 years ago. I can remember my son feeling as cool as anything, trying to pass Tarot off as his own dog while taking him a walk. I also remember marching him into my kitchen on his lead to frighten the life out of my cat! Don't worry, I knew Tarot was raised with cats and really was the gentle giant he seemed. My cat just hissed a bit, but strangely didn't try to run, they were sniffing noses with each other in seconds and struck up immediate trust. I adore Liz's other Doberman, too, but will always feel my soft spot for Tarot.

I'm gonna miss the bark when the door goes. Miss the gentle way he would lick my ankles while I'd popped in for a cuppa with Liz. Miss watching him from an upstairs window, and remember how Tealc used to copy everything he did while establishing his own right in the doggy world.

So, I'm kinda clinging on to other things here waiting on the dreaded news. I don't care what people say, animal bereavement is just as daunting and affective as human loss. I may be a mum but have been shit at it at times. For Tarot, he was truly loyal and had unconditional love for his owners. It's going to be an occasion I hope I can find the strength to help them see through. Liz has always been there for me when my family haven't. If I could take the pain away I would. ......I'll leave you with a picture of her and Tarot (I'm sure she won't mind) isn't it breathtaking?

Well Worth A Gamble...!

Last Friday my son's band Casino played another Glasgow gig in a place called The Box in Sauchiehall Street. My daughter and her hubby were up from London visiting so we went through to catch the show. It was the first time Kerri and James were seeing them live, and only the 3rd time for me. And what a show it was.

Formed just a year ago their reputation has soared successfully. The lead singer, Ross Telfer, writes songs of varying genres and is a bit of a perfectionist. Tomorrow they finish their studio recording of The High, plus a video to boot for their website.

Rarely do we see such interaction with fans. They play the audience slickly and deliver every time. They even dedicated a song to me, sacrificing this for a more popular request, just out of pure appreciation for my creative advice and opinions. Bless their 'ickle talented hearts. This Saturday they play on home turf at the Dobbie Hall which is a 5 min walk from my house. I'm so excited! Anyhow, I'll leave you with a few pics from the gig.

1: The band warming up with their new song: Million Miles From You. Another catchy number!

2: My son Ross (drummer) having a 'hairy moment' when his hat fell off revealing his sweaty head!

3: The Box had these huge screens all over the walls so those in the back lounges catch the show, too!

4: A further away shot. Yes, there were old fogies as well as me there to cheer on the boys!

5: The murals in the place were phenomenal. This one of Bowie and Tom York was my favourite.

6: An embarrassing moment for Ross when a young girl at the gig bought a rose from a passing gypsy and handed it to him when he went for a fag after the show!

7: I was annoyed when this came out 'blurry' as it advertised their band appearance!

8: When this chap arrived to dismantle the equipment, we couldn't believe how much like Frankie Boyle he looked. (Scottish comedian).

10: My son-in-law, James giving us his own one man show of stretching his skin to buggery!

10: And to finish with, me and my darling daughter catching some cooling air on Glasgow's infamous street....!

And if all those pictures don't convince you - double click on the video at the top right of my blog for the full version of their Waiting Up video!

Chip Chopped!

I was reading an article in a magazine in my doctor's surgery recently and got a laugh at it. It was about a chip shop in Northampton, I think it was. Staff had been on an environmental health course and it led to the banning of an old dear in the fairly close by nursing home, from buying hot foodstuffs.

For a couple of years an old bloke of 78 had been making the journey every Friday evening for him and a bunch of his friends, for suppers as a treat. The old dear was more abled bodied than the others and quite happily made the journey on his own. It gave him a little sense of worth and the chippie staff adored him.

After the course, the rather stuffy jobsworth chippy boss said that because he was rather slow on his old legs these days, the journey that would take a fit person 3 minutes to make back home was actually taking him 10 minutes and as the suppers would therefore be colder, was a risk to health - epsecially old dears! Because the old guy always phoned ahead with the order, they knew he took about 10 mins to arrive. It's bureaucracy gone deep fried nuts! What a bloody insult to the elderly.

Now, he still makes the journey but only to buy other stuff like sauces and sweets ect. That little journey broke up part of his day. Apparently, the staff now deliver it to the nursing home personally. The old guy took it as gallantly as he could and joked about how he's learning to rollerblade! I can't understand it myself. I used to work in a chippy, many many, moons ago and know for a fact that all it takes is a few extra sheets of paper and it's insulated for at least a half hour - still even burning the gob off you at that. What I find really ironic is that most old dears wait for their food to cool down before eating it anyway. God, the amount of times my old dad used to eat cold meals if there was anything distracting on the telly. I can just hear him coming out with his favourite sentence when faced with pettiness such as this:

"Whit? A load of b*****d's nonesense!"

With loads of condiments on top, too!

You'd 'ink There'd Been One Handy...!

In between catching up with some posts here, I've been listening to my son's band's last Falkirk live gig. So far they have only managed 3 songs on studio recordings, that have been released on their interwebby thingy. They have written and played a lot more, so I'm catching up on the songs 'still to be released' so to speak (as I HATE going to gigs where I don't know ALL of the songs). Anyhow, I'm doing my best to write the words down to learn for their forthcoming big Glasgow gig on the 24th of this month. But my search for a pen to scrawl down what I think the words may be, was initially futile.

I mean in the WHOLE of my upstairs' rooms there wasn't a pen! In this world of text or type communication and wee things you shove in the computer that hold all of your personal and precious citings, that you can lose easily (I found Ross's one in a bag of crisps he was eating at the comp when it 'went missing') is a pen so hard to come across? I don't think he has used one since leaving high school. Has my house become so bereft of simple beginnings that now pens are becoming short...? I'm off to Asda tomorrow for twenty bundles of the best, cheapest ones they have and planking one in every room. (Not that I have 20 rooms, but you know what I mean - a few spare for the (ahem!) conservatory and extension that Camelot have planned for me). By the way, I'm hoping the lines:

"Burned my girl with your silver bagette-ee, break down though with Walter and Betty" aren't actually what I'm hearing....!

Anyhow - I think I'll now go and see if it's safe to venture back downstairs. Yes, the boys have all been watching the Jackson memorial on telly. Sadly, (for some) I've never been a fan, although I admit he did write a fine tune or two. None however, made it into my record collection. But the bloke has been tabloid material for yonks now - for one reason or another - and I sincerely think he was a mighty fine father. I thank my blogroll for not blogging about him, (so far) it kind of spared my replies. I've never understood a bloke who dangles a baby from a balcony. I think the kid he dangled was called Blanket - which would have been a handy thing at the time if he had have fallen! He was a bit strange, though, and I often wondered what he was all about. Too much money I suppose. Had he stuck to just singing and touring, maybe I'd have appreciated him more. But he kinda struck me as the kind who would be happy sitting under a bridge calling 'Who goes there...!?'

If anyone asks - you've not seen me - okay!

Ordinary( Kinda) Days....1

I couldn't sleep for the heat, so had to rise early! On reaching the kitchen I discovered I had run out of teabags, so denial of my morning caffeine supply to the brain almost put me in resus, until I heard *Casanova, my younger cat, at the back door. Greeted by him and a pile of mush that used to be a fledgling of some sort, I scooped up the feathery remains and gave it a quick council disposal funeral (bucket) to the tune of "Hit Me Baby One More Time" in the background. I shouted at the cat, then the radio and tried to calm myself down with a chilled coke.

Shortly after my son ,Ross, came down scratching his clackerbag and head at the same time, moaned that there was no clean boxers in his drawer. My answer of "Why don't you just keep your meantime ones on for a week then examine the contents under the microscope..." was met by a "It's my last fucking day at college" reply (of which I'm still unable to decipher) so I went back into mum mode, sighed, got him a pair but failed to tell the vain, good looking git that he had a bogie on show on his way out later.

I crashed out and had a good laugh at some daytime television (Jeremy Kyle), finally got my PG Tips fix, did some paperwork extremely badly and planted some sunflowers out in the garden. Tried to scrub off the remainder of the message that my younger son spray-painted on the fence in December with that ' easy wipe-off spray stuff ' ...failed at that, so tried to paint over it with wood preserve, but it just illuminated it all the more! It's now June and my neighbours are still being wished 'A Merry Christmas from Adam' . But hey, the sun was shining, my son passed his college courses, and my older cat managed to bite his bullying younger companion on the ear, so all in all, not a bad day.

*the cat's real name is in fact Boaby, but he's been given that nickname on account that despite neutering, (castrated) he's still sniffing after the female cats. Dirty little git! Oh, well at least I know he's not populating the neighbourhood. God know how much CSA money he owes from last year...!!

Come Unto Me My Winter Son

From this very room, I'm watching my younger cat, with it's very thick coat, curled up sleeping contentedly on the roof of our shed, obviously lapping up the extra heat from the felt. Now, it's 73 fahrenheit today which is perhaps a tad hot in Scotland for the time of year, ( but I'm not getting into global warming and all that pish!) and wonder how the hell the daft animal can stand the heat. I kept on planting my sunflower seeds today anyhow - just to get the job over with - an have retreated to a cool room.

I'm also not long back from a trip to my local shop. As I walked through the door, looking like a red chubby stump, beads of sweat under my eyes, fringe sticking to my brow, holding litre bottles of flavoured water, I was asked:

"It's great isn't it? Can't wait for my shift to be over and get oot and aboot! You must be enjoying this weather...."

For an assistant who knows me fairly well, who's commented on my fair skin and red-blonde hair, I just couldn't understand what she actually thought caused my very dignified look, so I replied, (without sarcasm):

"Oh, yes. Loving every minute of it. I hope it continues for weeeeeeeeks!" (maybe just a little sarcastic, then...)

So why do most people assume that hot summer sun is enjoyed by everybody? It's not. I even have to take my holidays around the cooler months for the sake of enjoyment. My best friend this time of year is my rotating fan who follows me everywhere. Ah, well. If the appearance of one prick and I'd explode, doesn't speak for itself to some folk, I guess I'll just have to print a T-shirt with 'HURRY UP WINTER' in bold capitals sweeping across my warm front.

Coming Clean

On my bus trip into town today, I was gobsmacked at what I witnessed two stops hence. A young mum was travelling with her youngster, a gorgeous little girl, who was contentedly sucking on a bottle of milk. Next thing you know (and usually for no apparent reason) the kiddie lobs the bottle on the floor then cries for it. So mum retrieves it, inspects the teat, and promptly handed it back to the grizzly kid. The old geezer who was sitting in front of me, smelling of what can only be described as a mixture of B.O. and Haze, with a fleece covered in dandruff and dog hairs, sits tutting and staring across to where the young lass was. As he gets up to get off at his stop, he gives the young mum a mild ticking off for giving back the kiddie 'contaminated' rubber. She was only young and squirmed a bit in her seat but didn't tell him to 'fuck off' as some teenagers would. I was gobsmacked! Struck dumb. Had it been a old 'Marks and Sparks' pensioner I'd have been more vocal about it!

I can't quite remember it all, but I know I've fished some weird and scary things from my own kiddies' toddler mouths. I mean you turn your back for a second they're sucking the muck off worms! That is why God blessed us all with an immune system - and soap and water. So there endeth my sermon in God's wonderment for today. I'm just glad the bottle didn't land in the old sod's lap - however clean and pure his own values were!
9:44 PM

And So It Goes....

I have cancelled the trip to London as my daughter is now coming home to Scotland to spend the week with us instead. Her other grandma is very ill, the cancer although not galloping, is still with her but it is unrelated back pain that is causing her the most trouble. She needs morphine for this and the poor woman is delirious at the best of times. Kerri will be spending a few days with her to give her grampa a break as he's her constant carer. She's my beautiful little Florence, with a heart and strength that puts me to shame. I cannot put it into enough words how much I love her, only my arms will do that the second she arrives.

She is also aware of my meantime marital difficulties, our words said in haste but nonetheless giving me food for thought. It's pointless trying to hide anything from her she's knows me too well. Then again, we don't always know what comforting or worried words siblings exchange. Texting is just too bloody handy at times! I just hope the little relate councellor in her can move things on - one way or another. All this and looking after her auntie in England, too. She humbles me. Thank God she never turned out to be the shy, ashamed, unconfident teenager I was. Or else she would never have made it in this world. Her ambitions and wishes have been fulfilled so far through sheer determination and hard work. I only hope the fertility treatment she is on blesses her with a mini-she. If there's any justice in the world of mother-nature.