Time Flies ...

Its been a long 3 weeks.

My mother-in-law, the Queen, often cites the old saying "The road to hell is paved with good intentions". This little nugget accompanied by a knowing look and some serious nodding of the head.

I must be well on my way then.

When I returned from my rambles, which were absolutely wonderful, I did have plans and schemes to do this and that and catch up on all the projects that lie semi-dormant from September until June each year.

I made endless lists.

All to no avail.

July and August flew by .... the days filled with offspring, laughter, tears and black dogs lurking.

And now its September again.

Time to get my act together.

Life Goes On .....

Things are returning to normal here. The emotional intensity of the last week is starting to ease a little.

Life, indeed, goes on, with or without us.

Life in blogland will have to continue without me for the next 3 weeks because I am off to walk around the mountains for a bit.

France, Italy and Switzerland.

Smallish bag (have to carry everything we bring - 2 pairs of knickers - 1 to wear, 1 to wash - 2 pairs of socks ... )packed, famille organised to survive very well without us, checked in, waiting for boarding call. Hope the weather is a little better than it is here right now.

There will be limited internet access I'm sure in some of the villages we pass through. I shall try and keep up. I can hear Molly snorting derisively, I can't keep up at the best of times!

Stay safe everyone.

Unbearable Pain that I cannot Fix ..

Beloved No. 1 son rang me this morning at 10.30. He was crying. He was incoherent. He kept saying "Oh Mum, oh Mum, oh Mum ....."

And then he hung up.

This frightened me more than anything has ever frightened me before in my whole life.

I frantically dialled his number. No reply. I kept dialling until he answered.

He was still crying.

He told me one of his close friends had committed suicide last night.

There were no warning signs. His friend wasn't depressed. He had a close, loving relationship with his family. He had spent the last year studying for his Masters in Engineering. He played a soccer game with No. 1 son on Tuesday night. They won.

And now he is gone. Leaving behind such grief. For his parents. His family. His friends.

I wish I had answers. For my heartbroken boy.

But I don't.

A Little Slice of Heaven

Words cannot describe how wonderful it was to watch this man perform on Sunday night.

He's now 74 years old.

He's frail and tired looking.

But he hasn't lost it.

He was ABSOLUTELY MAGIC.

Windows, Workmen and WTF do I know?

They arrived last Tuesday.

The workmen.

Contracted to replace the manky, rotten, peeling, warped brown things that encase the escapes to the blue. Not before time, this renewal.

I made tea, lots of tea, 90,000 million cups of tea. In real man mugs. I even produced some passable repasts for their delectation. I deferred to their obvious superior knowledge, reluctantly, on numerous occasions. I was careful not to let them see me cringeing inwardly, as they, unceremoniously, tore out the old windows, ripped acres of plaster off the walls in the process, effed and blinded hilariously with each other, snorted and spat, smoked and coughed, cursed and swore. They were REAL men, after all. Honest to god, hardworking, salt of the earth, labouring craftsmen.

Sure.

One of these treasures of God's gift to women managed to secure himself an express seat to the Hot Place. If I have any say in the matter. In the process of removing the existing front door (with all the finesse of a dinosaur), this treasure of manhood managed to cut through the telephone wire. Completely. No phone. No Internet.

Not the end of the world, you might think. Accidents happen, you say.

I know all of this.

And, normally, I am quite stoical.

But.

Daughter No.2 went on holidays to France last Wednesday, for 6 days. She had, kind soul that she is, given me computer privileges for the duration. Oh, the plans I had! To catch up, to read and comment, to laugh and enjoy, and perhaps, even, blog myself! The exhilaration of it all!

And then, this cerebrally challenged gob-shite went and scuppered them all.

"Theres nothing we can do until next Monday, Missus".... yet another genius, of the male variety, from the phone company, assured me.

By Friday, I was quite calm and friendly again.

Today is Monday. They were due to finish today. I hovered, made tea, ooohed and aaahed appropriately, made more tea. But eventually had to leave at 10.45 for a dental appointment. "We'll be here til 2.30 Missus .... can't see us finishing before that". I arrived back at 1.30. House deserted, doors locked, windows shut. Keys to front and back door sitting, INSIDE the house, on the kitchen counter. I could see them. And me bursting for a small small. Not a hairy-assed, fag-smoking specimen of working manhood to be seen. One small window upstairs, slightly ajar, one manic phone call to GB.... "No, I don't have any of the new keys" .... one very severe warning to NOT EVEN ATTEMPT IT. Meanwhile, I am in dire straits. A kindly neighbour offered tea, sympathy and facilities. A short while later, GB arrives, toting ladder and macho attitude. Nearly made a eunuch of himself scrambling through the tiny window, real man that he is. And then couldn't figure out how to unlock new fangled locks on new doors. Stone Age Heros, so endearing.

More macho men arrived and fixed the phone line. We are reconnected. The reconnection fee will be included in our next bill.

"Huh?"

"Thems the rules, Missus"

I love when Life runs smoothly along.

Wordless Whatsit Wednesday

"Please wait, while we try to connect you .."

For the last 2 weeks I have been out of sorts. Not seriously. Generally, I have just felt like an alien residing in a less than familiar body. Normally, I am a disgustingly, healthy, energetic, enthusiastic, positive individual. But just over 2 weeks ago I sallied forth for my usual afternoon trot and tottered back feeling like I had just done 12 rounds with Mike Tyson. Crawling, miserably to the scratcher I muttered to anyone who cared to listen, "It'll be gone in the morning, its just a 24 hour thingy". Next day saw me a blithering mass of jelly, shivering and full of aches and pains, unable to summon up the enthusiasm to do anything other than moan piteously. "Its probably a virus" the vet cooed knowingly down the phone to me ... "Just treat the symptoms and get back to me if it persists for longer than 10 days". "10 days!!!!" my brain shrieked .... "doesn't he know I don't do SICK????". But bang on the button, the vet was right, on the 10th day it started to ease off. I felt human again. "Hmmm ... a walk by the river would be nice .... or perhaps I'll do a bit in the garden ... maybe, after I've washed the kitchen floor". I'm just kidding about the kitchen floor. I don't do kitchen floors.

Anyway, being forced to do as little as possible has its advantages. My brain, in feverish bursts of manic activity, had great fun tricking around with momentous topics that rarely see the light of day in the whole of my health.

No time. You see.

There is a God.

In the midst of the earth shattering ruminations on whether the earth is really round or whether if everybody was deaf, would there be such a thing as noise, came the usual suspects such as happiness, internal tickings, friendship, connecting, love, hate, ageing, children, important things, not-so-important things, time-wasters, imposters, physicality, spirituality, sadness. The devil making work for idle hands. Of all of these the one that kept cropping up was the feeling of connection.

On and off through the years, I have felt varying degrees of connectedness to myself, my family, friends, work colleagues, strangers, animals, plants and even, sometimes, inanimate objects. At times, too, there have been periods when the black dog was in full flight, growling and snarling, hackles raised, disconnecting me, daring me to acknowledge my own existence in the greater scheme of things. Daring me to acknowledge and accept my own responsibilities as a living, breathing organism. Daring me to believe, from the black hole of disconnectedness, that the only way out was through re-establishing the tenuous links. These tenuous links that constantly reflect back our own unique existence. The wave from the postman, the smile from a stranger, the enthusiastic tail-wagging from the neighbour's dog, the comment on a blog post. Little acts that reinforce the sensation of having a right to be here. They, in turn, encourage me to reach out, to smile and laugh, to be aware of others who maying be battling their own sooty canines, to have a lightness of being, to connect to all living creatures in my small corner. Really connect. This is the essence of my existence. Without it, what am I? What are any of us?

Life is short. Life is precious.

Carpe diem.


photo credit: www.mosaicsphere.com