CRUMPLED CONSIDERATIONS

My neck looks crumpled...and being honest so does my face. Being kind to myself its only minutes after rising and its probably unfair to be so harsh on myself before I've even absorbed my first rush of caffeine however there are some significant changes occuring. There can be few of us who get beyond our late 40's who don't start noticing how the skin doesn't seem properly attached to the bits it should be attached to. Being of fairly slight frame and build I probably have far less to complain about than many whose backsides, bellies and batwings are all sagging somewhat helplessly. Then there are those who have genuinely suffered year on year by enduring long leisurely holidays in sun kissed climes and maybe were so relaxed, simply failed to reach out for the COMPLETE SUN BLOCK cream actually quietly or even blatantly proud of their tanned look against their summer whites. But the years have a habit of showing themselves, and the crevices we used to refer to as 'character lines' and 'laughter lines' are of course...WRINKLES and reminders of time passing and our skin failing to keep up with the youthfulness of our minds. I would only join the tedium of women and media journalists who add to your worries by going on further yet I for one haven't ever considered skin enhancing treatments or expensive procedures. Even pots of creams designed to reduce wrinkles are seriously off limits if the cost is anything more than a reasonably priced bottle of wine. All that packing and perfume, marketing and media hype has never (that I can recall) got me parting with my pennies. Am I so mean? good point but more that I firmly believe (ha ha, laughing at my own pun there) that good skin is as a result of good genes, not smoking, being hydrated and well nourished and staying out of the sun. In my case never having smoked and never been fortunate enough to see more than a modicum of sun i'm half way there, thus here at the bottom rung of my 50's I'm not totally unhappy with my lot...Fortunately, the eyes start deteriorating at the same stage and from my bleary perspective, apart from appearing a little crumpled at this early stage of the morning, i'll pass the 'i'm okay test' for today -at least!

HYACINTH BOUQUET

On this occassion I speak of the genuinely wonderful smell of the hyacinths that are currently infusing the house as opposed to the Mrs H Bouquet from the comedy series of yesteryear..
Whilst today wasn't my birthday, anniversary or even Christmas (that was last month-Christmas I mean!)... today was a celebratory one and was generously marked by the several gifts that I received on my return to work coffee morning. Whilst I wasn't actually returning to work, though plan to by the early spring, and though it was also a tea, decaff and herbal drink morning too, it was an opportunity to meet up with my Thursday girls in my Thursday Hall in the soon to be seasonal leafy N.London.( yes, yes...i'm talking about THE ARRIVAL OF SPRING!) At least the sun was out, albeit weakly, and to my great surprise the girls, (yes, I insist that they are all girls ranging from 51- 80's) turned up in full force...And, ( I know I should never begin sentences with an AND) as I began, several armed with floral gifts which I have to say was an unexpected treat! Just seeing them walk in, enjoying the meet n greet kisses, hugs and updates it was hard to believe that we are merely a weekly fitness group and for some of them, they may have known me over a relatively short period of time. Since I've been an exercise instructor for almost 30 years (whoops...that is so ooo ageing!) it isn't surprising that many of my clients have been, come, gone and returned at various stages of their lives and even I find myself somewhat shocked when Clients remind me that they've been on my register for decades and longer.. Is it my motivational advice, the range of movements or the professional way in which I hope to run my sessions? No, for the mostpart I'm convinced its the social mix, the upbeat environment that eminates from the warmth of the group as a whole and perhaps, almost certainly, its the weekly diatribes and free form updates on the W. household and my own life in general that takes on a 'bloggish' like interest and connects us all together. That isn't to suggest that my W household are any more interesting or exciting than any other local family of course but perhaps there is an element of -whatever will be next in the on going life of ?!! :-)
Could I ever have imagined that I would be so fortunate as to find myself in a career path which offered me so much even if the income bracket wouldn't reach the bottom rung of most 20 year olds ladders? In truth the benefits have been so many and so uplifting (and I promised myself not to mention any breast related thoughts in todays blog!) ......that its difficult to consider how much money I may have made in a sales or marketing post which could have been a more obvious alternative route. But, best I don't give it any further thought- since for almost thirty years the 'girls' have probably taught me much more than I could ever teach them, have shared their joys and their stresses, have thanked me and hugged me, lifted my spirits, given me a wonderful reason to get up and go to work and propelled me into middle age with a skip in my step and a fine raison d'etre. Thus I never needed or expected flowers or gifts to underpin all these feelings that eminated from our get together. Once again I'd simply like to thank you, all of you, even those who couldn't join me today in supporting me through this difficult patch... and I am absolutely thrilled that it looks likely that i'll be back on them boards, strutting my stuff and warbling on within a few short weeks! :-)

JANUARY JOTTINGS

Despite the fact that this has been the greyest, gloomiest and coldest January that I can remember, probably because I can't remember anything much these days, it seems to me that January has got longer, far longer than it should be. Now I know that February may arrive and finish all within a few days since for a reason that I have never understood, February is given such short shrift, but why oh why was January given so many days...Then again if I were in Australia maybe I'd be delighted that the summer days would seem to go on and on...yet here, even when i turn the pages of my diary (I still have an old fashioned desk one...almost a tell tale sign of my age!) its still reads January even though the New Year parties seemed seasons ago!..... Its the month in which New Years Resolutions are broken, fitness regimens started until the thought of going out in the cold is enough to make you stop in and watch another replay of Scrubs (something I've yet to get into). Now that son no.1 (as opposed to daughter no.1) is in Singapore I was pleased to be reminded that the Chinese New Year has only just taken place (year of the Ox I believe!)...and for them at least, the first month of the year is wonderfully short and they can almost leap into Spring without getting bogged down by the damp n drearyness of these difficult days. Do I sound depressed? Perhaps I am a SAD sufferer, (seasonal affective disorder) and even if I am, my mood often inextricably linked with the colour of the skies, it would take a lot of energy, both mentally and physically to change my living situation and find myself somewhere altogether more condusive to my well-being. There are such things as light boxes, designed to offer up the type of light rays that should boost ones mood...Sceptical me wonders if they really are worth the £80+ however I'm beginning to wonder why London has me so rooted to the spot... Perhaps, maybe airing this mental project even in my blog today could be the first step along the path of finding bluer skies.. All credit to my aunt, who after 81 years of being in Stepney,E1 has sold up and moved to Marbeilla.. Gotta strange feeling tho that she missing a few of our Grey Days!!! :-)

I POD UPOD HE PODS SHE PODS

TO POD...is it yet officially a doing word? I'm forever doing with my pod, ipod! If it makes me look cool, then -so be it! Of course I'm not rapping away, swept up by Indie or even acoustic sounds..no, I am more commonly sitting or lying and listening to the beginning, and I stress -beginning- of another wonderful Radio 4 podcast. From Thinking Allowed to Womans Hour and of course a few specials from BBC World Service too, I'm fully switched on and tuned in whenever I have the time ...The trouble, and there always is-trouble i mean, that the melodic and ear tickling voices of the presenters have the mesmerising effect of lulling me into reverie faster than any other means thus I rarely hear more than the first 15 minutes of any podcast. Is that a real problem i hear you think!? Well only that the programme plays on even though I miss it and when I reboot it to try to hear it again, I have to start it from the very beginning thus the likelihood is that the pattern of hearing only the beginning is repeated. Interestingly whilst I wouldn't say that getting to sleep is a major issue for me, like most women of a 'certain age n stage' my head is always full of to do lists, what I haven't done lists and what I should do if I could do lists. Curiously of all the podcasts the most heavenly and quickest way to wipe out the issues of the day, week or month is SCOTLAND OUTDOORS OR RAMBLINGS with Clare Balding. Having one or two good friends who are Scottish I shall reserve my comments of irritation when listening to certain harsh Highland accents (yes, i realise, I 've done it now!) ...but then there are the gentle and most attractive accents which bring a sort of poetry to the ear. That combined with the sound of squelching upon a muddy bankside or the rustling of leaves as the commentator makes his way leisurely through a copse and describes the walk and countryside views with vivacity and geeky historic nouse and natural history or horticultural enthusiasm makes my mental journey so completely joyous and relaxing. It takes me back to my primary years when i'd have a day or two off school with a 'sickie'. In those days a dose of influenza or tonsillitus was a few days in bed, being served hot n creamy tinned tomatoe soup, ambrosia creamed rice and most important of all, I was allowed to have the oddly green/grey cased BUSH radio up by my bedside. I'd agitate the dial until I fell upon voices speaking about subjects most of which was academically 'over my head' yet it would be their voices, their accents and their use of words which would draw me in. I doubt if I had ever really worked out why I enjoyed such programmes but perhaps it was the musicality in their pronounciation or simply their obvious knoweledge and enthusiasm for their subjects. All this new technology has made access to such a wide range of worldly topics available to us all in many various ways but unhesitantly I have rapidly become a super-fan of my silver, sleek,slender and seductive ipod!

WHEN TWO BREASTS ARE BETTER THAN ONE!

My husband P would be the first to remark that I frequently mix my metaphors but on this occassion I can only confirm that living with one breast is one more/less thing to think about! To be fair to the one that is remaining, now takes pride of place and whilst it has never begged for attention in its previous life, it is now considered the centre piece....Weird to put my little 32B or maybe even my 34 AA side into such a context but to all intense and purposes, my left breast now holds the title of 'genuine and established'... To my right, the shape is......errr.....interesting! Yes its fairly interesting, original, somewhat like an eye patch shape but not over the eye and frankly, still pretty numb...understatement- it is NUMB!!! then there's the back...where once sat my latismus dorsi (no, i'm not being flash with terms...but it was my Lat muscle) it's now....sat upon the site of my no longer left breast...Weird that when I cough, my right breast mound reacts like my back might have done...In fact, I realise that my new party piece could be that I can make my New Right Breast Muscle twitch by moving my shoulder blades...All fascinating and of great interest to the masses i'm sure... (not)...
Today though was an opportunity to put the Lingerie stores of Brent X to the test...Today was the turn of John Lewis and Fenwick...I'm not going to be sensitive here and call them store A and B or by any other name... Let's get frank. today was their chance to convince me that I need them and that they can be a part of my future! This does of course sound utterly ridiculous to the 98% of women and probably 100% of men who may attempt to read on but with my genuinely synthetic and most ingeniously manufactured prosthesis in place I confidently requested their assistance to find new and appropriate underwear... My washing line never did suggest that I was an Anne Summers lace and less type of girl but with a wholesome bust of never more than a B cup (okay, an A .aa!!!....) my lingerie was always fairly tame and at best, padded n pink! First of all, I must extend full marks to Fenwick..actually to young Eunice. From the off she was ready to measure, listen, look and find. She understood, selected appropriate stock from which to consider, stayed with me, helped me in and out of each style and gave me time. She smiled, talked and never made me feel odd...Thank You Eunice. I am now the happy owner of 2 new bras, one black one white and neither of them specifically post surgery models yet both of them soft, comfortable and suitable! Then as if that wasn't enough for one day, I just had to give John Lewis a chance...Well not him specifically you understand but Cecilly in Lingerie... Two post surgery styles were shown to me (they have pockets for the prosthesis) have high sides, wider back straps and altogether more supportive. She took time to fit me, assist me and when I was ready to buy, to steer me to the desk and take my money. In fact I happily took her advice to buy a silk vest top which is already on and is preventing my sweater from irritating my skin which has been understandably sensitive since the op. It was quite a morning, but I'm happy, almost delighted to report that what could have been quite a trauma was a successful trip. My faith in sales staff restored (normally can't wait to say something derogatory) and weird tho it may seem, I gave them both a hug and left them feeling that they had made my day. For the time being at least....thanks Girls!

NO PRESSURE!

Typical me....There's no one asking for one, and its quite probable that there are only a few of you semi secretely keeping your eye out for one and yet, I feel the urge, fairly regularly of late, to blog! Not weekly, not daily but...dare I admit this, at least several times a day!!
Bearing in mind i managed not to have this desire let alone urge to do so for the first half century of my life, it comes as something of a surprise that whilst the day wends its own way, the brain suddenly takes off and the thought of the next blog appears with its own energy and right to be written up even if not necessarily valuable to be read! Now realistically a blogger who gives insight into life in a war zone, or one who sheds light of a hippy commune somewhere obscure or can bring the extraordinary to those that are desperate to know.....but here I am, in my three bedded semi in suburbia, with the regular hum drum of Mrs 50 something and her brood (who incidentally, if you haven't guaged already, have for the moment, upt and gawn) along with Mr 60+ (yes, quite unnecessary to reveal such details ...i'm sorry P) dealing with issues of the day. My washing machine, dishwasher and the other white goods all doing their best to keep the demands on my marigolded hands to the minimum whilst I sit here and tap away, my mind travelling from the minutia of events to the grandeose of world wide issues. For this moment of need and for today anyway, that will do me nicely! Time to put the kettle on!

RESULT!!!!!

Talking of tits....no I'm not being uncouth...i mean blue tits, today has been rather uplifting! (breast speak must be on my mind!) Just outside our kitchen window hangs the result of a Design and Technology project courtesy of our daughters 6th form creation. A most attractive bird table and nesting box. For a child who barely if ever paid any attention to our feathered friends I suppose it seemed somewhat of a surprise that she would 'home in' (pigeon talk) on the idea of such a design project. None the less, the hanging table looks both practical and positively attractive to the eye even though i'm not necessarily giving it the 'birds eye' view! Oh ....the comments are coming thick and fast this morning! :-) There was I, just about to pour myself a drink, with one eye on the garden, when a little blue tit sat upon, looked inside and then spent the next few minutes sizing up the potential of the nesting site. Mesmorised, I stood still, waiting, watching and hoping. Will it be big enough, will he/she find it cosy, does it suit her/his needs, close enough to schools? Oh my, where am I going with this thought. Fact is that finally, and hopefully the design project will become home to a family of tits, something our daughter E may never have imagined possible. My day has been transformed. A result indeed!

ANGRY OF BARNET!

I'm fed up! unusual? not especially unusual, but I'm totally and utterly exhausted from finding that there are so many ridiculous stumbling blocks preventing me speaking to a human who could give me answers to any one of my administrative or domestic problems... My angst isn't of course only pertinant to me alone. The whole flippin world has wound itself up in 'client confidentiality' so that phone calls to discuss everything from insurance, mobile phone contracts, domestic services, licences, purchases from wherever can only ever be discussed after the Client/Purchaser has revealed themselves in at least several and always tedious ways. Then of course there is every chance that in order to be heard if at all, we have already found ourselves dialling an 0800 or 0845 number which has given us at least 6 different options to choose before finally, if at all putting us in contact with Calcutta or at the very least Glasgow. That always assuming that there aren't, which inevitably there are, long queues, lousy and loud music and the repeated suggestion that your answer may be accessible via the internet on www.?????? Of course I'm not telling anyone anything that they haven't already experienced for themselves but in the course of a few short hours, my patience has been tried to the very extreme limits.
Whilst post cancer my blood pressure has been ideal, however it takes just a few calls to sort a problem to potentially, and almost likely alter the status quo and jeopardise many weeks of mental effort to stay calm and positive.
Situation one was to try to find out if AOL (the internet provider) had actually delivered the ordered Wireless Router to daughters flat? It hadn't arrived and nor had any postal notification that it couldn't be delivered! AOL suggested we speak to the sorting office locally. No telephone numbers available for local sorting office so I suggested that perhaps they would send another router to the family address as there have been other incidencies of missing post from E's address recently. They were quite happy to do this but emphasised that they could only act on her behalf and would need to speak to E themselves who could then give them permission to accept my request in her absence. But she is on a mobile, at uni and unavailable today ...No less than 20 mins of customer service dialogue, "Yes Mrs Winter, we fully understand and on behalf of AOL we take your issue very seriously" -think heavy accent please! As if luck would have it, E called me on my mobile and I placed mobile up, close and face to face with our house phone so that E could giver her full consent for mother to be allowed to give new instruction! Fair enough you may say.....I did however think it a good idea to trot -ok, walk briskly down to the local sorting office, after all they may have the router on their shelves awaiting collection. Of course- silly me....i have no collection card from the postman, no ID for my daughter .....The post woman reluctantly, and not without full vocal groans and grim grimace took a couple of minutes to scan through her book....finally coming upon the said parcel. Indeed it was awaiting collection...Wonderful I thought! But of course I couldn't collect it because I wasn't my daughter...I offered to call E and have her speak to the woman but this wasn't acceptable. I gave her my OWN address and somewhat oddly she agreed the parcel to me....(why would she agree to do that??? without my daughters permission!??? i'm baffled!)....Yes, I gave her my address and when I attempted to spell the name of the Street so that I was giving her clear instructions she aggressively replied
" I CAN SPELL YOU KNOW!"....AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!
still there's at least a fair chance that one or other routers will arrive by the end of this week and hopefully, though somewhat unlikely, we wont need to get through to technical support.......
Raised B.P. of Barnet!!!!!

KEEPING A-BREAST OF THE SITUATION!

Sometimes life is just too bizarre! There we were, 3 worldly girls out for lunch in Knightsbridge and curiously perhaps, between us all, just 2 breasts! Yes i'm talking human ones! Whilst being oddly statistical at this junction, it seems worth mentioning that we are all within spitting distance of 45 years old. Okay, okay, yes i am the most senior at 51! Between us all we have very few underarm lymph nodes to bother us and each have at least one tatoo, that being courtesy of the radiography department of the most wonderful Royal Marsden Hospital. We have personally lived through cancer four times and have no intention of doing it ever again! Whilst the day was cold, damp and grey, our spirits were incredibly high and our incessant chatter genuinely lively and amusing if only to us. Of course we weren't there to amuse others and had anyone sat close enough to earwig our conversations they may well have struggled to remain calm and controlled. We dealt with a cacophany of topics that weaved its way from the trials and tribulations of Breast Cancer treatments, Post surgery Lingerie, Moisturisers, collapsed veins, weakening eye sight, Wii Fitness, Cross dressing (don't ask"), the joys of motherhood, Returning to work, the benefits of being employed and the financial implications of illness. If I'm not mistaken we may have mentioned the President elect of America only briefly, however we opted not to discuss the Middle East and don't think we ventured into the soaps, Anne Frank or even the Credit Crunch! No, if I recall correctly, ....the credit crunch was mentioned when we opted to share our pizza between three ( a girlie thing) and have two side salads.. We did however splash out on coffees and teas, and must have shocked the waiter by not giving some herbal sachet even a thought. How brave are we? Three women.... different career paths, different family dimensions, different upbringing....but between us the bond of understanding and humour that only this type of truama can deliver. Thank you girls for sharing today with me! (yes, they will know who they are!).... As I find myself thinking that even amongst the most distressing chaos, there seem to be treasure.
By the way...having spent a very unreal hour at the Marsden earlier today trying on, touching, considering and looking at prosthesis both on and off....i travelled home on the tube quietly chuckling about my breast in my bag! Frustratingly however, its too big and makes the other, real one feel somewhat insignifant! Seems as though I'll be returning, 'breast in hand' back to Fulham within a week or two. A good excuse for a girlie lunch....no doubt! :-)

JUST ANOTHER DAY!

When you (or me for that reason) come to think of it...no two days are ever alike! Despite regimens and schedules, work times and diary dates, every single day has its differences, its hot spots, its down moments and its tediums. Why should I bring myself to ponder upon what seems like one of lifes irrelevancies? Apart from the date, the temperature and the seasonal changes, we hear the news and headlines which colour our mental pallette either directly or inadvertantly. Few will have been totally unscathed emotionally by the Middle east problems of the past few weeks but now with stories that bring a flicker of joy to our hearts, when a pilot safely lands his passengers upon the Hudson in an emergency landing and saves 150 lives -we feel that miracles can and occassionally do happen. This weeks news of the emergent new U.S president will take care of the headlines world wide in some way or other over the next couple of days but back indoors, it will be a different assortment of headlines...
How's the son coping in his new job some many thousands of miles away from us? What's doing in the diary? should I be re-training, sorting domestic DIY, insurances, exploring and sorting a few days holiday on our bikes? do we feel we can afford a theatre trip, a take away etc etc.and there's always something to consider or be concerned about! And as if all these decisions aren't quite enough, there's the many years of emotional history that continue to weave its way...permeate and add or detract, lift or lower, raise or deflate the feelings of each hour of each day regardless of the season or time of day!
It is, according to my diary (where the dates and writing is far too non descript and small for a woman of my age to read-) Sunday. Still only January and yet as complex as March, July or September maybe. Odd that I would wish for a month of tedium and simple, uncomplicated and settled, calm and dare i say dull.....but frankly, I do.

SOWPODS??

Bemused, Confused? Yes me too and its only 8.30 on another bleak, misty January morning. To be fair to facebook, I have spent many, some would say, too many, recent hours attempting to pitch my linguistic flexibility against the anonymous world of on line Scrabbulous players. Rationally I have taken part in less than ten matches, games to you and me, so far and according to the statistics, am winning a mere twenty something percent! I'm bravely tackling the likes of those who are perhaps decades younger, fortunate enough to be enjoying their summers thousands away from the U.K and no doubt whilst I huddle around the 'cost a fortune'- kilowat heater with hands wrapped round my never ending mug of tea tentatively awaiting their turn, they are recognising that I don't much go with the same flow, since I'm forever looking up the Concise Oxford Dictionary only to find that their so called word doesn't actually exist. Despite the low temperatures of late, my blood attempts to boil (attempts I said!). Actually set into Scrabbulous, on line, is a dictionary validation system which has frequently refused my placement of tiles upon the board so I know there is a 'standard' but only this morning when I realised I am on the cusp of losing yet another few games to players who play words like QIS and AAH as well as a never ending assortment of others which are clearly validated by the Scrabbulous Almighty dictionary. I decided to get to the bottom of where these words come from. Lo and behold its all down to SOWPODS! Yes I know, SOWPODS I can hear you question? Have you ever heard of it? I certainly hadn't until this very hour. So now I know, there, somewhere in-amongst the world of scrabble players is the INTERNATIONALLY ACCEPTED DICTIONARY of SOWPODS. And all these years I have been convinced that The Oxford English was THE DICTIONARY. Then again I've never had the opportunity to play games with my Asian and Australasian brothers and sisters so maybe, just maybe, I am behaving naively. Now, more appropriately armed with my list of endless two letter words - with meanings, I can go forward and improve my stats! If the urge to pitch your articulate wits against me still stands, beware dear friends, for I am now fully armed and ready for battle! :-)

IF ONLY I WERE A HEDGEHOG!

I know if I were asked what I'd like to be in my next life, it would have to be something with a very thick, soft and warm, fur coat! After 50 years of withstanding two thirds of the year waiting for the third third to arrive I wonder whether or not I will ever find my way out of the grey skied discomforts of a typical English winter.
For the two decades I could simply blame my parents! Why, after all, did I have to be born and reared within earshot of the A12, highway to Peter Pans Playground on the Costa Southend on Sea? ..Actually, being a tad more romantic and may I add, exciting- I was actually born within the Sound of the Bow Bells making me an 'authentic Cockney' but my school days were spent within bus journeys of the less than cellubrious landscape of Ilford and environs, which at some stage of the 60's became the borough of Redbridge. It wouldn't of course mattered much if it were Bromley, Barnet or any other London borough, the facts are that from early October until mid April or later the days are too cold, too damp, too windy and too damn miserable for little ol me. One can only imagine that had I had been a child of the Cotswolds, the Malverns or wherever else the skies are large and open, the landscapes wide and undulating, then perhaps I'd have found the joy and excitement of the severe frost, the theatre of the dramatic skies and the glory of the unclutteredness of winter rural vistas.
My own outlook from the semi in suburbia tends to be of residential roofs, sky aerials, littered pavements and wearily clad, overweight and grey people wishing that they were somewhere else too!
At risk of perishing of utter frost-bite or at the very least mildewish misery I've positively given up worrying about appearances, preferring the somewhat cumbersome, layered look. Oh my mum would have been so very pleased with me. Even up to the time I was sending my own kids off to secondary school, she was ringing to tell me it was cold outside and that I should wear an extra layer and a Hat!!! Nowadays the genuine woolen Peruvian hat, courtesy of my lovely friend Lindsey whose travels ensured that I am suitably hatted, grace my mop of grey. Then there's the obligatory, M & S thermals (long sleeve of course!), the roll neck sweater with at least the little tie up boloro. Rarely will I not wear a neck scarf but always will I wear a nice chunky outdoor one which will be wound around my face leaving just about enough room for my vision not to be too impaired and then there are the gloves. I realised that on the even colder days, one pair are simply not effective so I have begun to go for the thinner layer covered by the looser chunkier layer! A fine look as you can only imagine! Coming now to the outer layers which normally consist of the gilet on top of which I manage to squeeze on the long sleeve, high necked puffer anorak. All this in preparation to get hastily into my car and shiver until the heater finally thaws my feet which have the tendency to freeze within moments of touching the great outdoors!
How did all this ridiculous thought process begin?? Yes you may well be asking! However, despite the fact that I wouldn't like to be any more prickly than I already am inclined to be in such conditions, I can only imagine that being a little hibernating hedgehog right now would be oh so cosy!! Off to get dressed now.....for bed!!! :-) zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

EMPTY NESTERS ...

Being a mother of a certain age and stage I find myself cropping up in all manner of magazine and newspaper articles. Well not me specifically, however the genre into which I gather I have been pidgeon-holed as "empty nester"! Ironically there seems to be a mass of confusion as to whether or not I should be joyous or distraught, celebrating the freedom or spending all waking hours wondering what our off spring are doing in their young and active lives whilst we, their 'no longer needed for hourly feeding/washing/chauffeuring or nagging mothers weep into our empty linen baskets and wallow in the savings we're bound to make by not wasting electricity, leaving hair straighteners on and using up the loo roll just because its fun to! Apparantly I should be thinking of taking my own 'gap year' around South America, walking the Great Wall of China for Charity and Learning Mandarin and how to Salsa in my spare time. The thought of having a day out without having to rush back in time for the school gate pick up still hasn't quite sunk in despite it being about 7 years since offspring no. 2 was able enough and keen enough to find her own way to and from anywhere she wanted to be without me!.
I have noticed a fairly widespread change in the characteristics of my friendship group. A sense of complex depression mingled with the thoughts of post teen "where am I going, what am I doing" syndrome. Some 30+ years ago most of us would be doing our impression of Jane Austin and attempting to find suitable suitors for our almost certainly in work youngsters, but times have definitely changed and seeing our daughters walk up the aisle is no longer within the realms of high expectations for most of our 20 somethings. Then again the chance that we might become grandmothers before the stage at which dribbling is something we're more accustomed to than ever before. Providing we've managed to steer our kids (as if we have any sway!!!) through their teens and early twenties before they're having to cope with their own parenting powers then we are likely to find ourselves in the in-between decade of "empty nesters"...

WELCOME BACK POOH

Aha, some good news in the world at last! After weeks of Middle East chaos, credit crunch despair and the blight of freezing weather to-boot, the Yahoo headlines offers "New Winnie the Pooh Adventures". Though Pooh has rarely been off a childs bookshelf and more recently found its way into being cartooned fairly sympathetically, there are to be new adventures written by David Benedictus who was responsible for adapting original stories for CD.
Not all old things are wonderful but since the mid 1920's when Pooh was originated by A.A. Milne there can be few children who haven't been enchanted by this simple bear with "very little brain". Whilst the accompanying illustrations by E. A. Shephard engraved the expressions of each of Milnes characters into the mind of us all, I'm hopeful that there will once again be room for a re-birth. Then again I do so hope that Eeyore isn't going to find too much happiness, that Tigger insn't confined to play Wii games indoors and that Piglet isn't going to have to curtail his bossyness. Imagine, can't you, that Pooh may be restricted his hunny binges lest he becomes obese!! Suddenly I feel pangs of concern. Will Christopher Robin still be allowed to float his pooh sticks into the stream at the Hundred Acre Wood without his parents watching his every move? I have personally owned various Pooh bears over the decades. The favourite, now almost 30 years old features in my wedding album as a special guest! Whilst he looks somewhat grubby, not terribly rotund and has somehow, lost a bit of his smile, he has witnessed a lot of ups and provided much comfort and amusement at No.5, so with some reservation, that of one who doubts the new can ever be as good as the original, I look forward to Pooh's revival in more than 50 languages including Latin! Carpe Dieum Pooh!!!

A MIDNIGHT FEAST!

That it is 2.25 a.m. whilst I eat and blog away with some hysteria isn't totally out of the ordinary as my insulin dependant diabetes has its way of waking me up to eat when my blood sugars start dropping below normal. All very clever stuff really and amazingly my urge to eat rather than drink the carbs is always the greater pull. No orange juice or lucozade for me, not even a nice milky drink and a digestive biscuit. Oh no that would be far too simple! As the hypo takes its hold so do my desires. Almost always it has to be crunchy. Not the choc bar but something that is al dente. Prefereably not a vegetable, certainly not a nice wholesome piece of fruit but almost always and without too much hesitancy I know that cereal and soya milk with a sprinkling of my fruisana sugar in the 'right sized bowl' with the right sized spoon is just what I need. Weetabix wont work where Oatbix, more like cement on the pallette works well, but overall it is the consistancy and effort factor that helps me through these lows. After 30+ years of experiencing these several times a week chemical urges I have come to the decision that a hypo should be a feast not just a quick fix. I have been known to go to great lengths, shuffling along stairs and floors on my bottom, simply because remaining upright isn't an option to get me into the larder, select the correct box and eat it dry because my weakness wont let me stand to get the milk. Don't shout at me please! I'm sure as eggs are eggs that you're telling me to put some sweet food by the bed every night. Of course that would be sensible but then I just know that even if my sugars were well within normal range I'd find myself just a weeny bit peckish at around the midnight hour and the hypo-stop tin of biscuits (crunchy of course) or chocolate with something nutty or biscuity inside naturally, would suddenly become a desire which I don't need but feel I deserve.
Takes me back to being a ten year old at sleepovers with my best friend. Would her lovely rotund and always smiley faced dad (uncle Bob) have realised that my memories of those wonderful midnight feast memories in tents in their back garden, at UK kids summer camps in dormatories and in Myras library of a bedroom would stick in my mind like Oatibix? The plates of cream filled chocolate biscuits, the tomato ketchup flavoured crisps and the flying saucers, papery, colourful, light and full of zingy sherbert are colourful and sweet memories. I've no doubt that the feasts were often no later than 11 p.m. and used to drive Aunty Betty mad with her husbands attitude of spoiling us and rotting our teeth and sadly neither he nor she are around any longer to discuss in any more detail however I'm delighted to report that my teeth are still firmly in tact and my memories of the fun we used to have even more so. Cereal n soya munched, tea drunk and sugars flying high again no doubt. It must be time for sleep. 2.45 a.m! z...zzzzzzzzzzzz sleep well!

A TIDY DESK.....

is a tidy mind.. well that's how I tend to think so as if to spring clean my brain I rather enjoy the process of starting the New Year with my broom and waste bin in hand. Unlike the past three decades the diary is relatively uncomplicated thus far. Oh I know I shouldn't be smug about this as its largely to do with the fact that both the kids manage their own chaos these days and I'll not officially be starting work until the Spring. When my diagnosis of the carcinoma was made back in September I sort of wrote myself off for about a year as being the fitness teacher doesn't sit easy with the possibility of major op and chemo, however most would say I've got away easy and only have the operative repair to come to terms with. Where was I? Ah, yes the tidy desk theme. I don't do clutter. Like most of us, whoever we are, I fear losing important info and have over the years set up a filing system that stores most of what I need, where I want it, most of the time yet curiously Peter hasn't easily come to terms with the TOP DRAWER being his, the MIDDLE ONE being mine and the BOTTOM DRAWER being DOMESTIC. Just hearing the question "where will i find the **** file?" sends me into grrrrrrrrrrrr mode. To be fair I do tend to have the habit of filing papers in my own obscure though some would say interesting way. Typically to find info on the proposed Garden Summer House (which has never actually materialised) one might need to look at GARDEN file, QUOTES file, HOUSEHOLD OTHER file or even WISH LIST file...I'm laughing, cos the idea of a wishlist file is a great one but until now I don't actually have one. Might just go and set one up, this very minute! The real housekeeping these days is computerised yet it takes a techi bod to know how to do this. One reason why perhaps i should be applying to the local computer skills course. In fact, much as I don't relish the idea, it would be useful. Yes I've learnt to do many of the things I have to do but there's so much potential that lies untapped. Typically the morning has passed, I've read, torn and refiled, sifted, sorted and searched and can only wonder what might become of my almost ordered desk and diary over the coming year!

NEW YEARS HONOURS!

January the 1st and the list is printed for one and all to see. Not that us mere tax payers and hardcore UK residents are in the least bit excited about a sportsman who had trained 4/5ths of his life, to the detriment of everything and possibly everyone else getting his OBE or indeed the fading rock star of yesteryear who's chart hitting sales back in the 60's earnt him enough royalties to afford to live in sunnier climes. Me sounding rattled? Surely not! Though even the stories of lollipop ladies and care workers are surely doing a job and being paid for the effort! Oh I realise I am sounding more bitter by the sentence but I've never really got the HONOURS LIST excitement. To be a Knight of the Royal Garter sounds grand enough indeed and there are those who through their lifelong efforts to make the world a better place should be noted but come on, why do we have Sir Chris Hoy, Sir Cliff Richard and the likes of? There are many who no doubt think the same as I do over this media fuelled mania.
That brings me swiftly to the joy that January 1st was now yesterday, if that makes any sense! January 2nd is a far more acceptable day. Not if one is returning goods to the stores, no far too early in the month, however the buses and trains are supposed to be working, the offices are opening if only with the post tramatic stress of the UK christmas shut down which is now almost a fortnight long and the salesmen are out in full force. New targets, fresh attitude, major motivation and the hope of a better year, one in which the pound may still purchase something and when the bricks that hold the roofs over our heads don't completely crumble around us! Yikes, this is sounding a wee bit glum even from my comfy seat. Watching the demise of Woolies and MFI etc, hasn't really upset me directly, mainly because I haven't shopped for more than a box of Roses in Woolies since the early 80's and never, to my memory have I ever had a purchase from MFI but its not only about the customers though even my simple economic brain can suss that the more serious implications are the effects on the wider manufacturing, purchasing world. Oh, this is almost becoming a technical piece so whilst I finish off the final tiny portion of almost no calorie, Christmas Pudding (with cream of course) its time for me to look forward to January 3rd. ps. For some strange reason, I think that Dame Judi Dench deserved hers!