I can't be doing with all this feeling sad about things. About inanimate objects and about nature programmes and when I hear music and anything sentimental. It seems as though a piece of me has been reprogrammed to blub at the slightest opportunity and it's very undignified and costing a lot in tissues.
This evening we watched an ancient film called Silent Running. It was made in 1972 and it's about a world without forests and plants, a world where the only ones left are in bio-domes in big space-freighters somewhere near Saturn.
(Don't read any further if you don't want MASSIVE spoilers, like..er..the ending)
Then Earth gives the call to blow the domes up - they can't afford to keep them running anymore and any hope of repopulating the Earth with the plants is long gone. But one crazy dude has been looking after the forests in the bio-dome for eight years and he decides, "No! I will not blow these forests up!" So he kills off his crew and sets to work looking after the forests with these three droids called Drone 1, 2 and 3. But then one droid gets swept away as the freighter travels through Saturn's Rings which is quite sad because the drone's leg gets left behind. But the worst bit is that in the end the crazy dude loses it and decides to kill himself, but before he does he sends the bio-dome off into space with Drone 3 in it, looking after all the plants. But he doesn't let Drone 2 go too even though they're friends, because Drone 2 is injured and can't help Drone 1, even though he could still have been company. So Drone 1 goes off into eternity on his own.
Now I write that it doesn't seem so sad, but believe me, it's heartbreaking. And that's what I can't stand. Lions in the wild killing elephants is devastating, and baby penguins dying, and lonely droids and sad things on the news...
I'm becoming a liability with all this over-feeling.
And I wish I could just switch off the bit of me that felt sad about things like that, about nature and inanimate objects. Just cut it out. Because I wouldn't mind looking at the bit of brain left behind on the table, not if it stopped me from feeling sad all the time.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
The things you find when you sort.
Sometimes I think my Mum could give Mr Trebus a run for his money, so much stuff does she hoard. She keeps and keeps; empty tea light holders because she might refill them one day and weird looking screws and more seeds than perhaps even God had to start the world with. Every surface in her house has things on it, it's hard to find a space to put anything down.
So about once a year things get a bit on top of her and she can't even find a place to put her cup of tea down so I go and help her sort it all out. We sort it all into the right places and we take stuff to the charity shop and the tip and I say, "You have to be ruthless, RUTHLESS!" quite a lot and she pretends to put stuff in the charity box but then secretly takes it back out again.
We spent yesterday doing this. I like it because I like to help her and she is so happy when she can see the sideboard and the kitchen tops and the coffee-table again. And I like to find surprising items and old things I had forgotten about and I like the stories she tells me whilst we do it.
So yesterday I am doing this. I am removing all of my Auntie's old glasses from a cupboard so that I can clean it and move it and rearrange things a bit and I am saying, "What's this?" and she's saying, "Oh, that's an ashtray my first husband made." or "Oh, that's the part for something I have lost" and things like that.
And then I find a tall rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper on the very top of the cabinet, right at the back. So I pick it up and it's really heavy and it's all dusty, and I blow the dust off the top and I say, "What's this?"
And she looks at the parcel, and then she looks at me and she says, "Ah. That's Grandma."
Sometimes I think my Mum could give Mr Trebus a run for his money, so much stuff does she hoard. She keeps and keeps; empty tea light holders because she might refill them one day and weird looking screws and more seeds than perhaps even God had to start the world with. Every surface in her house has things on it, it's hard to find a space to put anything down.
So about once a year things get a bit on top of her and she can't even find a place to put her cup of tea down so I go and help her sort it all out. We sort it all into the right places and we take stuff to the charity shop and the tip and I say, "You have to be ruthless, RUTHLESS!" quite a lot and she pretends to put stuff in the charity box but then secretly takes it back out again.
We spent yesterday doing this. I like it because I like to help her and she is so happy when she can see the sideboard and the kitchen tops and the coffee-table again. And I like to find surprising items and old things I had forgotten about and I like the stories she tells me whilst we do it.
So yesterday I am doing this. I am removing all of my Auntie's old glasses from a cupboard so that I can clean it and move it and rearrange things a bit and I am saying, "What's this?" and she's saying, "Oh, that's an ashtray my first husband made." or "Oh, that's the part for something I have lost" and things like that.
And then I find a tall rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper on the very top of the cabinet, right at the back. So I pick it up and it's really heavy and it's all dusty, and I blow the dust off the top and I say, "What's this?"
And she looks at the parcel, and then she looks at me and she says, "Ah. That's Grandma."
Thursday, August 31, 2006
On looking forward to Autumn.
For a while now Autumn has been in the back of my mind, looming like the sore patch before a spot comes and I haven't been looking forward to it. I've been watching the edges of the leaves brown, nothing seems to be alive in our garden anymore. This is an exaggeration because we've got slugs coming out of our ears and they must be eating something, but the garden feels a bit over somehow. The sunflowers have died and even though we haven't harvested the potatoes and the carrots and the courgettes, the plants they are attached to are nearly finished. My Dad used to say he disliked August because everything was grey instead of green, used up and losing it's beauty and I feel a bit like that.
But now I've got my camera things feel different. I can't wait for the leaves to turn, for the berries to ripen. For the clear crisp mornings that only Autumn brings. It is a lovely time to visually document and I am excited about having the opportunity to do it so thank you Life for giving me this camera, I look forward to doing you justice in using it.
For a while now Autumn has been in the back of my mind, looming like the sore patch before a spot comes and I haven't been looking forward to it. I've been watching the edges of the leaves brown, nothing seems to be alive in our garden anymore. This is an exaggeration because we've got slugs coming out of our ears and they must be eating something, but the garden feels a bit over somehow. The sunflowers have died and even though we haven't harvested the potatoes and the carrots and the courgettes, the plants they are attached to are nearly finished. My Dad used to say he disliked August because everything was grey instead of green, used up and losing it's beauty and I feel a bit like that.
But now I've got my camera things feel different. I can't wait for the leaves to turn, for the berries to ripen. For the clear crisp mornings that only Autumn brings. It is a lovely time to visually document and I am excited about having the opportunity to do it so thank you Life for giving me this camera, I look forward to doing you justice in using it.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
On wishing my Dad was in the camera shop with me.
I nearly lost it in the camershop when I went to buy my camera. You know when the tears suddenly rush itnto your eyes and you get a huge sob in your throat and you can't quite hold it in, so you end up making a horrible nggggh sound, well that happened. And I really felt overwhelmed with the choices and I wanted to wail, "I wish my Dad was here, he'd have known which one to buy, he would have helped meeeee".
But then I managed to pull myself together and act like the adult woman I am instead of whinging and snivelling about something that wasn't going to change.
So now I have a beautiful camera.
I am a little bit afraid of it.
My sister took a lovely picture of me on it.
TLB took a lovely picture of my sister on it.
I just keep looking at it and feeling a bit sick about the amount of money it cost, because the macro lens was about 300 quid and that's without the camera body. But I need it! It now means I can take photos of the jewellery we make and not pay anyone else extortionate amounts of cash to do it for us.
If I can ever figure it out.
I nearly lost it in the camershop when I went to buy my camera. You know when the tears suddenly rush itnto your eyes and you get a huge sob in your throat and you can't quite hold it in, so you end up making a horrible nggggh sound, well that happened. And I really felt overwhelmed with the choices and I wanted to wail, "I wish my Dad was here, he'd have known which one to buy, he would have helped meeeee".
But then I managed to pull myself together and act like the adult woman I am instead of whinging and snivelling about something that wasn't going to change.
So now I have a beautiful camera.
I am a little bit afraid of it.
My sister took a lovely picture of me on it.
TLB took a lovely picture of my sister on it.
I just keep looking at it and feeling a bit sick about the amount of money it cost, because the macro lens was about 300 quid and that's without the camera body. But I need it! It now means I can take photos of the jewellery we make and not pay anyone else extortionate amounts of cash to do it for us.
If I can ever figure it out.
Friday, August 25, 2006
The Hedgehog.
Twenty days ago.
The lovely boy and I are out cycling and we find a baby hedgehog right in the middle of the cycle path, in the middle of the day in the boiling hot sun. He isn't moving much and doesn't look very well and he has little white fly eggs all around his eye and his ear. We look at him for a bit and some people walk past and look at him too and then carry on. I ask one of them if they have a box or a bag, but they react like I am a crazy woman. We stand there for a bit and I say, "Well, we can't leave him here" so TLB takes his T-shirt off and I wrap the hedgehog up in it so he doesn't prickle me. Then we cycle to the park, me holding onto the handlebars one-handed, because I am carrying the hedgehog aloft in the other.
"Precious cargo", TLB says.
We go to the park and we find a park ranger. I show him the hedgehog and he tells me to take him home and give him some water.
"I'm a member of the British Hedgehog Protection Society", I say. I'm not sure why.
"He's in good hands then" he says.
So we take him home and TBM has a look at him and sprays him with water and the hedgehog seems to like that, and then I have a look online and find out that it is quite likely the hedgehog has lungworm. I ring the vet and explain what has happened and they think we should bring him in, so we put him in a box and get in the car. All the way there TLB holds the box sending the hedgehog all the energy he can.
"A very important job." he says.
The vet takes him in because they have a special wild animal fund which means they can care for him, and they give him saline and lungworm antibiotics. The first night we all cross our fingers and I ring in the morning. The nurse tells me that he'd had a good night. "But he's not out of the woods yet", she says, "he's very weak."
The next morning I ring again and she says he is really doing alright. "The lungworm medicine takes nineteen days to work" she says, "ring back then and you can release him into your garden, or back where you found him."
Everyday TLB asks about the hedgehog and I tell him what they'd said. "He's doing well, he's having his medicine."
***
So then on the twentieth day, which is today I call back.
"I'm so sorry," the lady on the phone says. "Did they not ring? I did tell them to to ring you, but I only work part time."
She tells me he died, three days after the medicine started and that it was sudden and suprising and that they had thought that he was doing really well.
She tells me they were all very sad about it and I tell her that I am too.
****
Poor little hedgehog.
Twenty days ago.
The lovely boy and I are out cycling and we find a baby hedgehog right in the middle of the cycle path, in the middle of the day in the boiling hot sun. He isn't moving much and doesn't look very well and he has little white fly eggs all around his eye and his ear. We look at him for a bit and some people walk past and look at him too and then carry on. I ask one of them if they have a box or a bag, but they react like I am a crazy woman. We stand there for a bit and I say, "Well, we can't leave him here" so TLB takes his T-shirt off and I wrap the hedgehog up in it so he doesn't prickle me. Then we cycle to the park, me holding onto the handlebars one-handed, because I am carrying the hedgehog aloft in the other.
"Precious cargo", TLB says.
We go to the park and we find a park ranger. I show him the hedgehog and he tells me to take him home and give him some water.
"I'm a member of the British Hedgehog Protection Society", I say. I'm not sure why.
"He's in good hands then" he says.
So we take him home and TBM has a look at him and sprays him with water and the hedgehog seems to like that, and then I have a look online and find out that it is quite likely the hedgehog has lungworm. I ring the vet and explain what has happened and they think we should bring him in, so we put him in a box and get in the car. All the way there TLB holds the box sending the hedgehog all the energy he can.
"A very important job." he says.
The vet takes him in because they have a special wild animal fund which means they can care for him, and they give him saline and lungworm antibiotics. The first night we all cross our fingers and I ring in the morning. The nurse tells me that he'd had a good night. "But he's not out of the woods yet", she says, "he's very weak."
The next morning I ring again and she says he is really doing alright. "The lungworm medicine takes nineteen days to work" she says, "ring back then and you can release him into your garden, or back where you found him."
Everyday TLB asks about the hedgehog and I tell him what they'd said. "He's doing well, he's having his medicine."
***
So then on the twentieth day, which is today I call back.
"I'm so sorry," the lady on the phone says. "Did they not ring? I did tell them to to ring you, but I only work part time."
She tells me he died, three days after the medicine started and that it was sudden and suprising and that they had thought that he was doing really well.
She tells me they were all very sad about it and I tell her that I am too.
****
Poor little hedgehog.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
On standing by your own actions in body, mind and name.
Dear anonymous person,
I see your point, I do. You're right. I do feel guilty. I feel ashamed of myself and angry. I do not think I did a big or clever thing. I am not protesting 'too much', I am taking my punishment which includes the loss of my car and I have learned my lesson. The people I hit were not hurt, there were no 'crying children' and they had insurance which is covering their car. I was driving at 10mph at the top of my road, so very close to the allowable limit that the poplice wanted me to take a blood test as it might let me off. I refused that test. I owned up to drinking the minute I got out of the car and I am proud of that. The police said that the court was as lenient as they had ever seen, as much as they could be. I was not some 10 times over the limit drunk, caring nothing and driving at 80mph, I was driving away from a horrible arguement because I had nowhere else to go. These are my reasons, but they are not excuses. I know what I did was wrong and stupid and dangerous.
I will not do it again.
Now about you.
You are hiding under the tag of anonymous, making judgements about people without revealing your own hand. If you are someone I know then I wish I didn't; my true friends and my family have told me how they feel and it's not all good, I would not wish for a friend who could not say to my face what you have said here.
If you are someone I do not know, then who are you to judge? Have you never done wrong? Never made a mistake? Come and walk a mile in my shoes, I welcome you.
It's safe there in anonymous bliss, isn't it? Easy to sit and judge, hiding behind the letters, no-one to look you in the face.
But if I were you, sitting there, typing unkind words to a person whilst keeping my identity secret, I would be feeling distinctly uncomfortable about myself. I have not hidden from what I did. You however appear to hide constantly.
Dear anonymous person,
I see your point, I do. You're right. I do feel guilty. I feel ashamed of myself and angry. I do not think I did a big or clever thing. I am not protesting 'too much', I am taking my punishment which includes the loss of my car and I have learned my lesson. The people I hit were not hurt, there were no 'crying children' and they had insurance which is covering their car. I was driving at 10mph at the top of my road, so very close to the allowable limit that the poplice wanted me to take a blood test as it might let me off. I refused that test. I owned up to drinking the minute I got out of the car and I am proud of that. The police said that the court was as lenient as they had ever seen, as much as they could be. I was not some 10 times over the limit drunk, caring nothing and driving at 80mph, I was driving away from a horrible arguement because I had nowhere else to go. These are my reasons, but they are not excuses. I know what I did was wrong and stupid and dangerous.
I will not do it again.
Now about you.
You are hiding under the tag of anonymous, making judgements about people without revealing your own hand. If you are someone I know then I wish I didn't; my true friends and my family have told me how they feel and it's not all good, I would not wish for a friend who could not say to my face what you have said here.
If you are someone I do not know, then who are you to judge? Have you never done wrong? Never made a mistake? Come and walk a mile in my shoes, I welcome you.
It's safe there in anonymous bliss, isn't it? Easy to sit and judge, hiding behind the letters, no-one to look you in the face.
But if I were you, sitting there, typing unkind words to a person whilst keeping my identity secret, I would be feeling distinctly uncomfortable about myself. I have not hidden from what I did. You however appear to hide constantly.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Well I'm not going to prison. I've been banned from driving for a year and I've been fined.
The car isn't repairable and the car man says I was lucky not to be more hurt. So now I owe money on finance for a car I no longer have because it wasn't insured.
I'm glad I'm not going to prison.
I shall be doing a lot of cycling.
And to the person that made the anonymous comment hoping that I did go to prison and saying there is no reason to ever drive drunk, well, actually, there is. In a court of law special circumstances can be granted (if you ask for them) if you are a female trying to get away from a man you fear. Obviously that is not what happened to me beause I was not fearing anyone, I was just horribly upset, but I thought you might like to know that in case you feel the need to make a judgement another time in your life.
The car isn't repairable and the car man says I was lucky not to be more hurt. So now I owe money on finance for a car I no longer have because it wasn't insured.
I'm glad I'm not going to prison.
I shall be doing a lot of cycling.
And to the person that made the anonymous comment hoping that I did go to prison and saying there is no reason to ever drive drunk, well, actually, there is. In a court of law special circumstances can be granted (if you ask for them) if you are a female trying to get away from a man you fear. Obviously that is not what happened to me beause I was not fearing anyone, I was just horribly upset, but I thought you might like to know that in case you feel the need to make a judgement another time in your life.
Monday, July 03, 2006
The moral of the mysterious returning wallet.
Well. He giveth, then he taketh away, and then he giveth again.
A elderly asian gent knocked on our door yesterday and handed TBM back his wallet. Indside was everything, including the coin.
TBM wept.
The man's English was very limited, but apparently a child found it (in the vague direction points behind our house). I am so grateful for the lovely people who return things and who make up for the gits who steal.
Possibly, the price I have paid for praying to the Gods that the wallet be returned is as follows:
The night before the wallet came back I smashed my car up into smithereens after a horrible row with TBM. He told me to leave and I was drunk so I got in my car and I tried to drive it and instead I smashed it up. Now it's in some garage costing £12 for everyday it stays there, plus 300 quid for the fact that it was taken there. I very much doubt it's fixable.
Worse than this, the insurance I thought I had I didn't actually have, due to some confusion with my broker. So now I am a criminal; drunk driving, driving without insurance. I have to go to court on Friday.
The moral of this story?
Smashing the car could be the price I paid for praying.
However, it's far more likey to have occurred because actually I am a complete and utter twat. If I go to prison, please send me sweets and a Shiv.
Well. He giveth, then he taketh away, and then he giveth again.
A elderly asian gent knocked on our door yesterday and handed TBM back his wallet. Indside was everything, including the coin.
TBM wept.
The man's English was very limited, but apparently a child found it (in the vague direction points behind our house). I am so grateful for the lovely people who return things and who make up for the gits who steal.
Possibly, the price I have paid for praying to the Gods that the wallet be returned is as follows:
The night before the wallet came back I smashed my car up into smithereens after a horrible row with TBM. He told me to leave and I was drunk so I got in my car and I tried to drive it and instead I smashed it up. Now it's in some garage costing £12 for everyday it stays there, plus 300 quid for the fact that it was taken there. I very much doubt it's fixable.
Worse than this, the insurance I thought I had I didn't actually have, due to some confusion with my broker. So now I am a criminal; drunk driving, driving without insurance. I have to go to court on Friday.
The moral of this story?
Smashing the car could be the price I paid for praying.
However, it's far more likey to have occurred because actually I am a complete and utter twat. If I go to prison, please send me sweets and a Shiv.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
And the Award for 'Most Considered Football Cheer' goes to...
...the lovely boy for this one-breath gem today:
"Come on England players but not David Beckham because he's doing really well already anyway and doesn't need my cheer, oh, maybe he does, come England players including David Beckham too, oh I'm out of breath now."
****
In local crime news;
The police came late last night.
You know the identity number of your phone? Well everytime they take anyone into custody they check the identity number of the phone that they are carrying, and check it against stolen ones. I didn't know that.
I asked the policeman if there was any difference between being a superhero and a policeman, and he said, "Yes because Hulk can Hulk-smash and then go back to being Bruce Bannerman, but when I smash I have to fill in 15 forms about it."
The fingerprints officer came today and was here for precisely six minutes. She didn't find any prints.
TBM went to the pub at 2pm and is not back yet.
TLB spent most of yesterday in his room and quite a lot of today too.
I think that watching football is really a big group activity.
I have realised that I am very lonely.
...the lovely boy for this one-breath gem today:
"Come on England players but not David Beckham because he's doing really well already anyway and doesn't need my cheer, oh, maybe he does, come England players including David Beckham too, oh I'm out of breath now."
****
In local crime news;
The police came late last night.
You know the identity number of your phone? Well everytime they take anyone into custody they check the identity number of the phone that they are carrying, and check it against stolen ones. I didn't know that.
I asked the policeman if there was any difference between being a superhero and a policeman, and he said, "Yes because Hulk can Hulk-smash and then go back to being Bruce Bannerman, but when I smash I have to fill in 15 forms about it."
The fingerprints officer came today and was here for precisely six minutes. She didn't find any prints.
TBM went to the pub at 2pm and is not back yet.
TLB spent most of yesterday in his room and quite a lot of today too.
I think that watching football is really a big group activity.
I have realised that I am very lonely.
Friday, June 23, 2006
You are listening...
You are listening to Radio Olulabelle, coming atcha from the arse-end of Birmingam.
On offer tonight is outrage in the key of E.
For those of you that do not know this piece I suggest you listen carefully, it may easily apply to you, for those of you that do, sing along as you wish.
And you, you arrogant fuck, you opportunist, you, who came into my house and stole my phone, and TBM's phone and TBM's wallet, you should listen extra carefully. You saw my little boy come out of the door and leave it on the latch and you watched him walk past to the sweetshop.
This, this city of hate, this hellhole. This place where you have to keep your blinds closed in the heat of the beautiful summer to stop people looking in your windows, this dreadful prison, lock down, shut down, no-one in and no-one out either.
This want-want-want, this need, this desire for things, all the time things, other peoples things, you want so badly you come and take mine.
And guess what? That wallet you took, the one with no money in it, the one you probably threw away? That wallet had a coin in it that was given to my lovely man by his Grandfather and he has carried it in his wallet for 17 years. That wallet was so valuable to him, yet to you it was a wallet full of nothing.
And how bad do you think my 8 year old boy feels now? He thinks it's all his fault because he left the door on the latch.
And how angry do you think the lovely man is now with my little boy? And how angry is he with me, because it was me that said leave the door on the latch?
Never ever before has he lost his wallet. Then we come along and it is gone in an instant.
With love comes frustration.
Well. I hope it makes you happy.
You are listening to Radio Olulabelle, coming atcha from the arse-end of Birmingam.
On offer tonight is outrage in the key of E.
For those of you that do not know this piece I suggest you listen carefully, it may easily apply to you, for those of you that do, sing along as you wish.
And you, you arrogant fuck, you opportunist, you, who came into my house and stole my phone, and TBM's phone and TBM's wallet, you should listen extra carefully. You saw my little boy come out of the door and leave it on the latch and you watched him walk past to the sweetshop.
This, this city of hate, this hellhole. This place where you have to keep your blinds closed in the heat of the beautiful summer to stop people looking in your windows, this dreadful prison, lock down, shut down, no-one in and no-one out either.
This want-want-want, this need, this desire for things, all the time things, other peoples things, you want so badly you come and take mine.
And guess what? That wallet you took, the one with no money in it, the one you probably threw away? That wallet had a coin in it that was given to my lovely man by his Grandfather and he has carried it in his wallet for 17 years. That wallet was so valuable to him, yet to you it was a wallet full of nothing.
And how bad do you think my 8 year old boy feels now? He thinks it's all his fault because he left the door on the latch.
And how angry do you think the lovely man is now with my little boy? And how angry is he with me, because it was me that said leave the door on the latch?
Never ever before has he lost his wallet. Then we come along and it is gone in an instant.
With love comes frustration.
Well. I hope it makes you happy.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Women in Iraq TV Documentary and parrots that want to go to bed.
There was a documentary on TV I wanted to watch about Iraqi women. I saw it advertised but I can't remember what channel it was on, or when. I don't know if I have missed it or it is soon. Wednesday rings some bells.
Oh, how very annoying.
TBM has gone on holiday to Skye. TLB thought he was going 'up in the sky' until I showed him where Skye was on the map. For someone who thought his stepdad was going on holiday to some unknown space above him he was supremely unfased by the concept, and in fact I think he preferred the idea. TBM certainly did.
My back hurts. I spent some of the day driving home and then the rest of it gardening, sweeping clear the winter oomshka from the patio and generally rearranging pots and things. My broom is broken, snapped in half so I have to sweep like I am the witch in Hansel and Gretel. Now I'm on the sofa, mainly because I can't move to go upstairs. Since I gave up smoking I have put on a good few pounds and I don't think it helps my back.
My head hurts from reading Barbelith. When I read the word 'snark' what I picture in my head is a Cat in the Hat cartoon drawing. I don't know why. It's probably better not to try to find out.
I'm lonely. Even the parrot has had enough of me and is dropping hints, hopping from one leg to the other saying, "Night night Fawkes. Night night Fawkes."
There was a documentary on TV I wanted to watch about Iraqi women. I saw it advertised but I can't remember what channel it was on, or when. I don't know if I have missed it or it is soon. Wednesday rings some bells.
Oh, how very annoying.
TBM has gone on holiday to Skye. TLB thought he was going 'up in the sky' until I showed him where Skye was on the map. For someone who thought his stepdad was going on holiday to some unknown space above him he was supremely unfased by the concept, and in fact I think he preferred the idea. TBM certainly did.
My back hurts. I spent some of the day driving home and then the rest of it gardening, sweeping clear the winter oomshka from the patio and generally rearranging pots and things. My broom is broken, snapped in half so I have to sweep like I am the witch in Hansel and Gretel. Now I'm on the sofa, mainly because I can't move to go upstairs. Since I gave up smoking I have put on a good few pounds and I don't think it helps my back.
My head hurts from reading Barbelith. When I read the word 'snark' what I picture in my head is a Cat in the Hat cartoon drawing. I don't know why. It's probably better not to try to find out.
I'm lonely. Even the parrot has had enough of me and is dropping hints, hopping from one leg to the other saying, "Night night Fawkes. Night night Fawkes."
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
I'm so tired.
I'm tired of the in-fighting. The arguments. I'm tired of finding out that my family are doing things together days after eveyone else knows, and I'm tired of finding out online, in the way that people find out the weather.
I'm tired of having nowhere to call my own.
I'm weary that I have the task of making everyone happy, yet seem to be responsible for none of it.
I'd really like a really real cuddle. Not a "there, there" one. An "I adore you" one.
I know that everyone has their own problems, I'm under no illusion that I am the centre of the Universe but without me people appear to be happy.
With me? Well, I appear to be making everyone sad.
I wish I knew why.
I'm tired of the in-fighting. The arguments. I'm tired of finding out that my family are doing things together days after eveyone else knows, and I'm tired of finding out online, in the way that people find out the weather.
I'm tired of having nowhere to call my own.
I'm weary that I have the task of making everyone happy, yet seem to be responsible for none of it.
I'd really like a really real cuddle. Not a "there, there" one. An "I adore you" one.
I know that everyone has their own problems, I'm under no illusion that I am the centre of the Universe but without me people appear to be happy.
With me? Well, I appear to be making everyone sad.
I wish I knew why.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Beware of the Orgs.
TLB's Step-Gran gave him fifteen quids worth of book vouchers for Christmas and on Wednesday we went to Borders to spend them. He bought four books, three of which he chose, and one I found for him, called 'The Secret of Platform 13'.
I told him that now that he was eight I trusted him to turn his own light off and that he could read for half an hour after going to bed. On the first night, TBM went upstairs an hour and a half after TLB had gone to bed and found him, still with his light on, engrossed in the book.
Officially I do not know this. Officially, I think that he turned his light off after half an hour and to be fair to TLB, apparently his clock had stopped so he had no idea how late it was.
It's hard to keep this secret.
Anyway. He's obsessed with this book. It's the first time he's really obviously got the reading bug and it makes me very happy. When I was a little girl my Mum used to remove my light bulb because I wouldn't stop reading.
So for about three days the book is all he's talked about, and specifically about the 'Org's' in it. This evening I decided I needed to know what an Org was, so I asked him.
"It's a monster," he says.
"It's a monster I've never heard of" I say. "How do you spell Org?"
"O-G-R-E." he says.
***
Oh how we maketh the child. This is the son of the woman who read too much Famous Five, too early. I still want to pronouce Quentin 'Queentin', Bureau 'Burroo' and Quay 'Kway' even though I am now thirty three. TLB is following in my footsteps.
I give you the boy who will forever want to pronouce OGRE as 'Org':
TLB's Step-Gran gave him fifteen quids worth of book vouchers for Christmas and on Wednesday we went to Borders to spend them. He bought four books, three of which he chose, and one I found for him, called 'The Secret of Platform 13'.
I told him that now that he was eight I trusted him to turn his own light off and that he could read for half an hour after going to bed. On the first night, TBM went upstairs an hour and a half after TLB had gone to bed and found him, still with his light on, engrossed in the book.
Officially I do not know this. Officially, I think that he turned his light off after half an hour and to be fair to TLB, apparently his clock had stopped so he had no idea how late it was.
It's hard to keep this secret.
Anyway. He's obsessed with this book. It's the first time he's really obviously got the reading bug and it makes me very happy. When I was a little girl my Mum used to remove my light bulb because I wouldn't stop reading.
So for about three days the book is all he's talked about, and specifically about the 'Org's' in it. This evening I decided I needed to know what an Org was, so I asked him.
"It's a monster," he says.
"It's a monster I've never heard of" I say. "How do you spell Org?"
"O-G-R-E." he says.
***
Oh how we maketh the child. This is the son of the woman who read too much Famous Five, too early. I still want to pronouce Quentin 'Queentin', Bureau 'Burroo' and Quay 'Kway' even though I am now thirty three. TLB is following in my footsteps.
I give you the boy who will forever want to pronouce OGRE as 'Org':
Doctoring Celebs
This site shows the retouching of tons of photographs of celebrities. Everyone knows about photoshop, but it's remarkable to see it so clearly delineated. There are a lot of images but I really recommend clicking through to see all the pictures.
first click on "portfolio," then "before/after", then click the before button for each image to see what the artists have done to change the image.
Everyone should see this. Send it to all your friends. Please. And all the teenage girls you know.
Honestly there are pictures on there where they have deleted almost half a woman to make her 'look better' and none of them were even vaguely overweight in the first place.
This site shows the retouching of tons of photographs of celebrities. Everyone knows about photoshop, but it's remarkable to see it so clearly delineated. There are a lot of images but I really recommend clicking through to see all the pictures.
first click on "portfolio," then "before/after", then click the before button for each image to see what the artists have done to change the image.
Everyone should see this. Send it to all your friends. Please. And all the teenage girls you know.
Honestly there are pictures on there where they have deleted almost half a woman to make her 'look better' and none of them were even vaguely overweight in the first place.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Animal Happy Slapping.
According to the BBC, yesterday some 'youths' dropped a cat repeatedly from a 5th floor window and filmed it on their mobile phone. A sort of animal happy-slap. News story here, if you want to read more.
I don't understand how doing this sort of thing could possibly make anyone feel good, but it must have been 'fun' for them else they wouldn't have done it. Which means what? That they are so evil causing another creature pain doesn't affect them?
I don't really know what I'm trying to say here, other than I can't get my head around what compells a person to do such a vile thing in the name of comedy.
People are horrible sometimes. They really are.
According to the BBC, yesterday some 'youths' dropped a cat repeatedly from a 5th floor window and filmed it on their mobile phone. A sort of animal happy-slap. News story here, if you want to read more.
I don't understand how doing this sort of thing could possibly make anyone feel good, but it must have been 'fun' for them else they wouldn't have done it. Which means what? That they are so evil causing another creature pain doesn't affect them?
I don't really know what I'm trying to say here, other than I can't get my head around what compells a person to do such a vile thing in the name of comedy.
People are horrible sometimes. They really are.
On the film Mr and Mrs Smith and why it is, in the main, not funny.
A funny thing about the film Mr and Mrs Smith:
'The Tank' (geeky guy that everyone is trying to assasinate) is wearing a fight club T-shirt in the scene where Brad Pitt (aka Mr Smith) is interrogating him in the hotel room.
Other things about the film Mr and Mrs Smith:
I'm not sure I feel entirely comfortable with the fighting-as-foreplay theme throughout the film and most especially when Mr and Mrs Smith are actively trying to kill each other, but then suddenly stop that and shag each others brains out instead.
"Hey, sorry about nearly breaking your arm."
"That's OK, Hon, grab my tit. I love you".
A funny thing about the film Mr and Mrs Smith:
'The Tank' (geeky guy that everyone is trying to assasinate) is wearing a fight club T-shirt in the scene where Brad Pitt (aka Mr Smith) is interrogating him in the hotel room.
Other things about the film Mr and Mrs Smith:
I'm not sure I feel entirely comfortable with the fighting-as-foreplay theme throughout the film and most especially when Mr and Mrs Smith are actively trying to kill each other, but then suddenly stop that and shag each others brains out instead.
"Hey, sorry about nearly breaking your arm."
"That's OK, Hon, grab my tit. I love you".
BBC Climate Change Experiment.
I've decided to stop running SETI for a short while and instead take part in the BBC distributed computing worldwide experiment to try and predict climate change. You can download the experiment which runs on BOINC software made by the University of California, Berkeley (responsible for SETI) here and run this experiment in the background whilst you go about your daily computing.
It can also run as your screensaver if you want, and it's very interesting to look at.
The experiment ends in May, so I shall go back to searching for aliens then.
I've decided to stop running SETI for a short while and instead take part in the BBC distributed computing worldwide experiment to try and predict climate change. You can download the experiment which runs on BOINC software made by the University of California, Berkeley (responsible for SETI) here and run this experiment in the background whilst you go about your daily computing.
It can also run as your screensaver if you want, and it's very interesting to look at.
The experiment ends in May, so I shall go back to searching for aliens then.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
The Parrot can talk!
Fawkes can say Hello, and he can blow kisses - three in a row in quick succession; kiss-kiss-kiss.
He says 'Hello' like Terry Thomas, or maybe Leslie Phillips would, but with a lower voice. It's very funny. Now we're teaching him to say 'chip' when he wants a bit of boiled potato (chip is a bit easier to say than than boiled potato). I want him to learn the Archers theme tune. But he's only a baby still, nine months old now.
There's a parrot in America who, when you give him nuts says, 'No nut!' if he wants something else.
Fawkes comes to the shops with us now, he's allowed in Blockbuster, but not in Sainsbury's. One day when we have a shop I'm going to put a sign in the window saying 'PARROTS WELCOME.'
Fawkes can say Hello, and he can blow kisses - three in a row in quick succession; kiss-kiss-kiss.
He says 'Hello' like Terry Thomas, or maybe Leslie Phillips would, but with a lower voice. It's very funny. Now we're teaching him to say 'chip' when he wants a bit of boiled potato (chip is a bit easier to say than than boiled potato). I want him to learn the Archers theme tune. But he's only a baby still, nine months old now.
There's a parrot in America who, when you give him nuts says, 'No nut!' if he wants something else.
Fawkes comes to the shops with us now, he's allowed in Blockbuster, but not in Sainsbury's. One day when we have a shop I'm going to put a sign in the window saying 'PARROTS WELCOME.'
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
Revenge of James Lovelock?
I've just heard James Lovelock on Start the Week talking about his new book Revenge of Gaia.
He basically said that sinc we (the British) can't stop India, China and the United States from continuing their impact on global warming, our government would do better to concentrate on preparing flood defences for London and East Anglia than cutting down Britain's impact on climate change, since ours is minimal in the first place and we are past the point of no return.
He said that wind farms are utterly useless, that they only work for approximately half the time so we would need back up energy sources anyway, and until such time as we can adapt our attitude to energy useage Nuclear power is the way forward.
He also said that nature flocks to areas which have become radioactive because there are no people.
This goes against everything that I thought I believed in, which is flummoxing since it has come from someone whom I hugely admire. I don't want to have to consider Nuclear power as the way forward because I thought that I thought it was fundamentally wrong.
Now I am sitting here thinking about why I actually think that, and it pretty much stems from spending a lot of time on CND marches as a child. Not perhaps the ideal basis for considered opinion.
I've just heard James Lovelock on Start the Week talking about his new book Revenge of Gaia.
He basically said that sinc we (the British) can't stop India, China and the United States from continuing their impact on global warming, our government would do better to concentrate on preparing flood defences for London and East Anglia than cutting down Britain's impact on climate change, since ours is minimal in the first place and we are past the point of no return.
He said that wind farms are utterly useless, that they only work for approximately half the time so we would need back up energy sources anyway, and until such time as we can adapt our attitude to energy useage Nuclear power is the way forward.
He also said that nature flocks to areas which have become radioactive because there are no people.
This goes against everything that I thought I believed in, which is flummoxing since it has come from someone whom I hugely admire. I don't want to have to consider Nuclear power as the way forward because I thought that I thought it was fundamentally wrong.
Now I am sitting here thinking about why I actually think that, and it pretty much stems from spending a lot of time on CND marches as a child. Not perhaps the ideal basis for considered opinion.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Saturday, January 21, 2006
On London's whale and why it's not in fact exciting but actually unutterably sad.
If the whale in the Thames doesn't find it's pod soon it's likely to become the equivalent of a Swedish tramp following your family around the park desperate to join you and shouting about it in a language you don't understand.
Whales live in family groups or pods, and for a whale to become separated from it's pod is really bad news. most whale pods have their own family dialect and a separated whale trying to join another pod is often not accepted because it speaks the wrong language.
That whale is probably really disorientated and frightened, and what's worse than anything else is the fact that there is another whale in Southend, and still another one in Aberdeen. I think these other whales are part of the same pod and they've become separated; Northern bottle-noses are almost never seen in UK waters, yet now we suddenly have three.
Everyone everywhere appears to be really excited about the one swimming up the Thames but I'm not. It's utterly awful. A whale has never been seen on the Thames since records began in 1913, and this is why:
1/It's shallow water and stranding is likely.
2/It's brackish water and whales hate that.
3/ It's very loud for a whale in London.
If that whale doesn't die trying to find it's way back to sea it's likely to end up a lonely whale, hunting for its pod for the rest of it's life.
Where's the excitement in that?
If the whale in the Thames doesn't find it's pod soon it's likely to become the equivalent of a Swedish tramp following your family around the park desperate to join you and shouting about it in a language you don't understand.
Whales live in family groups or pods, and for a whale to become separated from it's pod is really bad news. most whale pods have their own family dialect and a separated whale trying to join another pod is often not accepted because it speaks the wrong language.
That whale is probably really disorientated and frightened, and what's worse than anything else is the fact that there is another whale in Southend, and still another one in Aberdeen. I think these other whales are part of the same pod and they've become separated; Northern bottle-noses are almost never seen in UK waters, yet now we suddenly have three.
Everyone everywhere appears to be really excited about the one swimming up the Thames but I'm not. It's utterly awful. A whale has never been seen on the Thames since records began in 1913, and this is why:
1/It's shallow water and stranding is likely.
2/It's brackish water and whales hate that.
3/ It's very loud for a whale in London.
If that whale doesn't die trying to find it's way back to sea it's likely to end up a lonely whale, hunting for its pod for the rest of it's life.
Where's the excitement in that?
Saturday, January 14, 2006
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