Frumpy Old Bird Does Matalan

I went clothes shopping yesterday. It was only a trip to Matalan and I didn’t spend a fortune but as I’ve increased a size since last summer (this is a good thing) I really wouldn’t have very much to wear at all without adding considerably to my wardrobe. I had one pair of jeans that fit, I’d stained the last pair of trackie bottoms (I love the soft, baggy ones for slouching about in), one pair of cords, a pair of black trousers and a handful of tops that aren’t even all suitable for wearing on a casual day-to-day basis. With spring here and the, hopefully, warmer weather approaching, the situation was becoming dire. This was also the first time I'd bought brand new clothes for so long that I can't even remember the last time.

Originally LM was going to come with me but it was such a lovely day for a trip out today so, as she was working, I asked Richard if he’d come with me. Most men would balk at a clothes shopping trip with a female and that’s without being laden with the job of pushing the wheelchair around and carrying the basket that was getting heavier and heavier. And without the female in question getting herself just a tad stressed up (ok… a bit more than just a tad) because her arms hurt every time she tried to hold something up or reach for something that was just beyond how far she could comfortably stretch, but Richard didn’t complain. I did wheel myself for a while - I didn’t leave it all to him - but my arms aren’t strong enough yet for me to whiz round the way I once used to. I’m sure in many ways it was a frustrating experience for us both but I got a few things I liked and that would work with what I already have so was pleased.

I was even more pleased when Linn Marie had a look at what I’d bought though. Not only did my 20 year old daughter approve of everything I’d bought but two of the items - both summer jumpers - were met with “awww… you should have got me one of those”.

And there was me thinking I was a right old frump. Maybe there’s life in the old bird yet ;-)

Sharon xx

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Going It Alone

My daughter’s out tonight. Just recently she’s been spending more time than usual at home and definitely more time sitting in the living room actually wanting to talk to me. Every night this week so far and all but one last week. And the one night she was out last week was because it was her birthday so was taken out for a meal by some friends. She did make me a lasagne before she went though (my favourite - she hates it) and apart from an hour or two spent shopping in the morning, spent the day with me.

This is most unusual behaviour for her but I know what’s happening. She’s moving out in a few weeks and knows that this is the last of her time left being part of this place… being here whenever…. In the future it’ll be visits and that’s never the same. For the same reason I’ve been really enjoying her company.

We’re both heading off into the unknown now. I’ve just realised that I’ve never actually lived alone before. I went straight from my parents’ home to my married home and when that went tits up I had my children living with me. After 48 years I’m finally going it alone.

How we’ll cope remains to be seen but I’m optimistic.

Sharon J xx

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Stuff vs. Memories

My daughter and I were chatting last night and the subject eventually came round to the way people are always wanting more - something bigger, better, flashier, more impressive and always more expensive.

She said that she’d much rather look back on a life filled with memories of adventures and experiences that had made an impact on her life, even if only on a spiritual level, because buying stuff doesn’t create lasting memories, not unless there’s been some real blood, sweat and tears put into actually getting it, and those who continuously buy new stuff don’t generally do that.

Do you remember the nights you spent just watching the TV and look back with pleasure? Do you look back on all those days your kids spent in front of the TV playing computer games and smile, laugh or even cry at the wonderful memories? Do you look at your sofa and feel warmed by the memory of buying it?

Do you remember the nights you spent with family and friends and look back with pleasure? Do you look back on all those days your kids spent playing in the woods with you, or learning how to ride a bike, or watching a bird bathe in a puddle and smile, laugh or even cry at the wonderful memories? Do you look at that old sofa and remember cuddles with the kids on it when they were younger?

Things are just things but love, laughter, friendship and experiences are what makes our lives special.

Sharon J xx

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Paul's Birthday

Yesterday was Paul’s birthday. Most of you probably know who he is by now but for the benefit of those who don’t, he’s my special needs son who’s currently staying with my parents in order to help Mum look after Dad, who’s very, very ill at the moment. He was 31 yesterday but to all intents and purposes, he’s still very much a child. An incredibly loving, helpful and honest child.

I phoned him yesterday to wish him happy birthday - like you do - and after a quick ‘conversation’ (Paul can’t actually speak and as he obviously can’t use sign language or gestures via the phone, conversation is difficult) I spoke to my mum.

She told me he’d received a card from my ex husband. This is a man who I haven’t lived with for about 18 years and who isn’t Paul’s natural father. Paul was a year old when we met, two when we married. Since going our separate ways, he’s had relatively little to do with Paul (long story but there is a reason) but never once has he forgotten him. And there’s always some money in the card too, even though he’s far from ‘flush’ himself.

Paul gets ever so excited about birthday cards - small things mean a hell of a lot to him. Far more so than they ever have to me or my daughters. Paul sees and appreciates things that most of take for granted. Sadly though, he only received two cards. The second one was from my mum. Today he should get two more, one from me and one from his sister (ours obviously didn’t arrive on the day) but unless there are some more late-comers, nobody else bothered.

Now I understand that we usually stop sending cards when children grow up, and that some people won’t send cards at all for ethical reasons, but I would have expected a few more people to understand that Paul isn’t ‘grown up’, especially those who have been close to him, and that he doesn’t have a great many of the pleasures in life that we all take for granted, and at least taken the time to send a card to brighten his day with - to help make him feel special and appreciated. Because he IS special, in so many ways.

I just feel that fewer people seem to take the time to think about what would make somebody else happy and actually do it - sending a card isn’t that difficult. Even a phone call would have been something. Or a letter. Anything!

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t expect anything. Maybe it’s just me being selfish, expecting others to give a damn about my son.

Sharon J xx

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Give and Take - When The Balance Is Off Kilter

I’ve blogged about toxic people before so most of you probably know already that I’ve been doing as much as I can to remove them from my life and clean up any negative emotional debris that they’ve left behind, but somebody recently asked me WHY I see certain people as being toxic, a question that led to quite a lengthy and interesting conversation.

All relationships are based on a trading system - give and take.

When we meet new people, whether or not we become friends with them depends entirely on whether they have something to offer that we need/want in our lives and whether there’s anything we can offer back that’s of value to them. It could be the ability to make you laugh, being a good listening, shared values, helping out with odd jobs, being a travel companion or one the myriad other reasons why we enjoy being with certain people. Usually though, for a close relationship to develop there needs to be several matches from both sides and for things to balance and create a harmonious relationship, there has to be an even amount of give and take from both sides.

When I realised I needed to remove certain people from my life it was because the relationships I had with them were far too unbalanced - I felt I was doing far too much giving in comparison with what I was receiving back. That sounds selfish, and some would say that we should always give without expecting anything in return, but I just can’t see how any long term relationship could survive like that. We may not consciously expect anything back, but our spirits become unhappy when our kindness is being abused.

Obviously all relationships become unbalanced at times - sometimes a friend’s need can become so all consuming that they’re simply not able to give anything back at that time, but when there’s a continuous unequal measure of give and take, a relationship becomes toxic to the person doing the giving. We can become tired, frustrated, lose our confidence and even become depressed, depending on the level of giving that’s expected of us and how many people are abusing their relationships with us.

But not all toxic relationships are based on ‘selfishness’. Some become toxic simply because the original ‘things’ we needed or could give are no longer valid. Perhaps one or both is still loving and kind but just doesn’t have enough to bring to the table anymore to keep the relationship as strong as it once was. This, I believe, is what most often happens when partners come to a point where the only answer is to walk away but don‘t. They keep going back, keep trying, even though they know deep down that the relationship can‘t survive, whether that be a partner, an awkward boss, a friendship or any other kind of relationship. It’s nobody’s fault - people change and so do their needs or ability to give what‘s needed.

Unfortunately, because there were so many people in my life who I felt were doing far too much taking, either on a spiritual, emotional or practical level compared to what they gave (in some cases, nothing at all), I was running myself dry. That was no good to anybody. If I’m run down I’m of not use to those who do deserve my time while the ‘leeches’ will just move on and look for a new ‘victim’.

Since removing certain people from my life, or at least minimising the time I spend with them, I’ve felt I could once again breathe out and take stock of my life; regain the control that I felt I was losing. I’ve worked on clearing the negative energy they’d left behind in me and I’m gradually ridding the house of their residual energy too. The longer time that passes and the more people who have a positive effect on me I have visit, the better the atmosphere becomes. The law of attraction is once again working in the way I need it to and those I spend time with nowadays are giving me what I need and giving back feels so much easier.

Sharon J xx

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Image Credit: Sarah Azavezza

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Stepping Close to 2009

Ever since Christmas Day I’ve found myself reflecting over the year that has passed and thinking about where I’m heading. I’ve not been consciously making resolutions as such, but I’ve given far more serious thought to the mistakes I’ve made this year and how I can avoid them next year, the things I’ve done well this year and whether or not I can improve on them, and the path I want to follow during 2009.

I’ve never really found myself feeling like this at the end of the year before. I’ve never been one for resolutions because they generally get broken anyway, but I think the fact that I’m starting to creep towards 50 now has been playing a role in this. I want to enjoy my life, and I want to enjoy it in a way that feels right for me.

Health

A Ward at Salford Royal Hospital - a place I don't want to see during 2009!

My health is one of the things that’s been foremost on my mind recently. I know I can’t turn the clocks back and live the life I once lived but I can take steps to keep myself out of hospital and as well as possible. I know I’ve been playing with fire recently in more ways than one and could so easily end up regretting it, so certain things need to be changed. I want to squeeze as much as I can out of life and I can’t do that unless I improve my health. I can’t re-grow my bowel or unclog my arteries but I can live a healthier lifestyle and take my medication more seriously, both of which will act as a preventative against my condition falling into further decline and will also help improve my stamina and thus the quality of my life.

Family

My family have also been strongly on my mind. There’s a link between them and my wanting to improve my health situation, quite simply that I doubt any of them would want me to be in a worse state than I need to be or, given the worse case scenario but one that could easily happen, dead.

Paul, when he was a boy


Lise and her partner, Bjørn


LM, taken last summer

But I’ve been thinking about my relationships with various family members too. What mistakes have I made? What can I do to help my family more? What do I expect from them? How can relationships be improved?

Friends

And then there are friends. I’ve written several times before about toxic friends and why we don’t need them in our lives and while I’ve managed to rid myself of most, there are still a couple that drag me down. I don’t need people who make me feel bad about myself - when you’ve lived with an emotional abuser for as long as I did, you very quickly start believing the things they tell you and that’s VERY unhealthy. I’m incredibly susceptible to that kind of suggestion now so will have to ensure that I don’t have ANY of those kind of people in my life anymore. The same goes for those who take pleasure in opposing my opinions ‘just for the sake of it’. I like a good discussion as much as the next person, but I’m sick of just about everything I say to certain people being turned into a debate. I just don’t need that.

On the other hand there are friendships that I need to cultivate more. Those people who I feel truly comfortable around, the ones who accept me for who I am without placing any conditions on our friendship, they’re the ones I want to spend time with. They’re the ones who boost me and help me believe that I’m capable of being whatever I want to be. They see beyond my limitations and accept that I sometimes need to push the boundaries and try things that may or may not work out, even though they maybe wouldn’t try them themselves.

Friends can, of course, be family members too.

For the first time in too long I’ve started taking my life seriously. Instead of thinking about de-cluttering, getting rid of debts and worrying over the environment I’ve started thinking about ME and how I can improve my life on a more personal level. After all, if you don‘t respect your emotional and physical needs, no amount of financial security or green living is going to make you happy. Our own sense of well-being is what everything else is built upon.

This coming year I’m going to be who I am regardless of what others think of me, take serious steps to improve my health, enjoy being part of a small family unit, put myself where I want to be, and surround myself with people who I enjoy whilst still trying to be as green and frugal as I can.

Sharon J xx

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A Painting and Other Things

After having a wonderful Christmas dinner that turned out just as it should, we opened our presents and all three of us were lucky enough to receive some lovely things.




Notice the Disney films? I collect the animated feature films and LM had bought me four! Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, Pocahontas and Dumbo. Lise bought me The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspain so I’ve plenty to watch this week :)

One present really brought tears to my eyes though.




This is a picture that my best friend Jo painted for me. Now she’ll be the first to admit that she’s no Van Gogh but there’s a story to this.

About a month or so ago she came to stay for a girly weekend. We had a laugh, solved the world’s problems (as you do) and went off on a zillion tangents. At one point we were talking about our dream homes. Mine’s a little white cottage that’s overlooking the sea, with flowers in window boxes and an old fashioned garden out the front. There would be a little wood nearby where I could go for cool picnics and be close to the trees and the animals that live there, and there would be mountains in the distance. Somehow Jo had managed to remember all of those details, got hold of a canvas and painted my vision!

Now this is a woman who has a young family to look after, a responsible job that keeps her busy, her grandmother’s been ill during the run up to Christmas meaning she’s had to travel from Manchester to Blackpool several times a week to make sure she’s ok, and she obviously had all the demands that running a home otherwise brings with it. And yet somehow, amidst this and the Christmas rush, she managed to find the time to paint this for me. Can you wonder that I had tears in my eyes?

Happy Twixmas, everyone.

Sharon J xx

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Social Services and The Rest - What Do They Know?

No doubt those of you in the UK will have heard about the James Hughes case, the severely disabled man whose body was found in a suitcase in the garden after his mother hanged herself. Once again a finger is being pointed at social services for not noticing that he’d lost huge amounts of weight, and at his GP for not having seen him for three years.

Well let me tell you something. Paul, my 30 year old son, also has profound learning difficulties (as did James) and in the eleven years we’ve been living in this country, social services have seen him once! Yes, that’s right, once! ONE TIME IN ELLEVEN YEARS! And that wasn’t in this town but while we were living in Manchester. And what’s more, they weren’t particularly interested in him either. I was told there was no work available for him and no respite care other than a weekend in a house shared with drug addicts. Yepp… that’s the God’s honest truth!

During the seven years we’ve lived here, they haven’t seen him at all. NOT ONCE!! They know of him, but they haven’t bothered to visit him, enquire about him, or anything else. For all they know, Paul could be dead and they wouldn’t even notice!

His GP has seen him maybe twice during those seven years and certainly not for the past three years. For all he knows, Paul could be dead.

A few years ago he had an appointment with the hospital that I cancelled. Nobody asked why and when I said he didn’t need a new appointment that was accepted without question. Paul could be dead.

Paul receives disability living allowance but nobody has asked to see him since he was first awarded the benefit. It just goes into the bank but Paul could be dead.

The neighbours haven’t seen him for a couple of years - not since he came home from my Mum’s two summers ago to come on holiday with us. Nobody has asked about him. He could be dead.

The point I’m trying to make is that anything could happen to Paul and nobody would notice. It’s just assumed that all is well. But how do they know that? How do they know that taking care of Paul didn’t become too much for me and that one day I snapped and…. well…. did the unthinkable?

I can assure you that Paul is very much alive and well and still helping my mum care for my dad but you really only have my word for that. Some of you will know it’s the truth because you know me personally and have seen Paul, but most of you don’t. I could be covering up something sinister, couldn’t I? How would you know? How would anybody know when nobody follows him up? I don't even have a recent photo of him to post here to prove he's alive and well (he is though, honestly. I'd hate to think you really think I might have... !)

Paul is just one of hundreds of thousands of vulnerable people in this country and I’m sure he’s not the only one who hasn’t been followed up properly. Who knows what might be going on behind closed doors? It’s hard being the parent of a disabled child and it doesn’t get easier when they become adults - sometimes a person’s patience can only stretch so far and when they’re not getting help….

It’s a scary situation.

Once Paul comes home for good I shall contact social services and ask why he hasn’t been assessed regularly. I wonder what they’ll say.

Sharon J xx

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Moon River

Some of you already know that my dad’s very ill and isn’t going to get better. He’s been like it for a couple of years now and it’s a surprise to everybody that he’s still alive - alive but not living. Laying on a bed, not knowing where he is, who his wife is, who I am, or being able to feed himself or control his bowels is not living. Surviving yes, but not living.

If I’m honest, I’ve never had a good relationship with my dad. Without going into detail, I can say that he’s a been very selfish man, but it was only once I was old enough to understand certain things that I realised what he was really like. As a young girl, I thought he was great. Why? Because he was funny when he was drunk (which he was twice a day, every day) and he taught me to dance.

I used to love dancing with Dad. I can’t have been more than about four when he taught me to waltz at the social club we used to go to at weekends. Then came the foxtrot, the quick step and a few others, but the waltz was always ‘our’ dance. And even when I got older and ‘played out’ with the other kids rather than hanging in the club, I always made sure I was back in the hall for the last waltz because that belonged to me and Dad.

I don’t really have anything special that reminds me of dad but a week or so ago I came across this on eBay.




It’s the sheet music to ‘Moon River’, the song he taught me to waltz to and one I can remember dancing with him to on so many occasions, including at my wedding. I’m going to put it in a black frame and hang it on the living room wall because although we didn’t get along too well, those dances ARE good memories, and hearing the song nowadays makes me both smile and cry.

Sharon J xx

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The Porch Door And Energy Saved

About 18 months ago I had new doors fitted in the living room. One leads to the kitchen, the other to the front porch. They’re pine doors but because they’re extra wide, they had to be ordered and cost a good deal more than their slim counterparts (rather like clothes for the fuller figure costing more than those for skinny chicks - a problem I had for years!).

Anyway, the door to the porch has never been right. To start with it closed but was clearly warped. The guy who fitted it assured me it would go back once it settled though and I believed him. It didn’t. It got worse. It got so bad that the door wouldn’t even shut anymore. And what’s more, he hadn’t even used the right number of screws in the hinges. Talk about cowboy!

With my gas bill going through the roof, the knowledge that using up resources unnecessarily and me being a proper little frozen fish finger who shivers at the slightest draught, I knew that I had to have something done about it. Cold air was coming in and warm air was going out and that just ain’t good. I lived through last winter like it but I certainly didn’t want to live through another with all that heat being wasted. It would be waste of both money and resources, not to mention how much it hurts me to freeze!

Enter Kyle.

During dinner on Tuesday I mentioned the door and how something needed to be done about it. Actually, I more than mentioned it. Fed up with the draught that was blowing through and after trying unsuccessfully to shut it (I always try even though I know it’s a no go) I kicked the damn thing and called it a few unsavoury names. Kyle, my daughter’s ‘gentleman friend’, decided at that point that he was going to fix it. And fix it he did.

As soon as dinner was over, he had the toolbox out, the door off and was fixing the dodgy hinges. Then he started chiselling away at the door itself, determined that no matter what, that door was gonna shut!

The result isn’t particularly pretty. There’s are bits missing along the lower side edge where he’s had to chisel them away (I don’t have a plane) but it shuts and that’s what matters. And it saved me a lot of money buying a new one and having somebody fit it, and what’s more, the wood will be used for a good few years more before it eventually becomes firewood.

Things don’t have to be perfect to be good. The door has character now and it does the job it was intended to do. All is well :)

Sharon J

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A Night Out

Graphic: Lyceum Theatre, Crewe

LM and I went to the theatre last night. A local dramatics group are having a week long run of Annie and I have to say, they were excellent. Had I not known they were amateurs, I would never have guessed. But then again, professionals are only amateurs who happen to get paid to do what they do, aren’t they? That doesn’t necessarily make them any better. Of course, a professional production has more financing behind it so the stage sets and costumers are usually more impressive but even so, I think the Acton Operatic Society did a VERY good job (just thought I'd give them a plug there). I'll definitely be going to next year's performance, all things being as they should be :)

What’s more, we were in the stalls so I didn’t need to climb three million gazillion a couple of hundred stairs in order to find our seats and I didn’t need to walk down six flights of stairs to the loos, only to fall a*se over tit on the way up again and injure myself. What’s more, unlike London, blue badge holders can park pretty much wherever they like around these parts, including double yellows, so I didn’t get a parking fine either. It's just as well that both theatres being called The Lyceum wasn't a bad omen!

Considering the tickets were only ten quid each, I’d say it was definitely a worthwhile evening out. We did get ourselves a drink and a packet of smarties in the interval and I bought a programme because they deserve some support. But whereas before we would have had a restaurant meal beforehand, instead we ate a lovely meal at home: garlic and coriander marinated pork loin chops, garlic potato gratin and asparagus. It tasted as good as anything we’d get in a restaurant and at a fraction of the cost. Ok, so I had to prepare it and LM was supposed to wash up later although Richard kindly did it instead, but the money I saved by not eating out has gone straight into my kitchen fund. One step closer to the goal. I daren't think what anybody who came close to us and our garlic breath must have thought, though.

I’m glad we went and really want to make a trip out with LM a more regular occurrence. Last month we went to the theatre in London, the cinema and for a picnic in the park. Ok, so it’s not always frugal but bonding is important too and that comes through shared experiences. They don’t always have to cost much but as we both love going to the theatre, like going to see bands perform and enjoy the luxury of seeing a film at the cinema now and then (that’s how they were meant to be viewed, after all) I’m willing to spend a bit extra every month. I’m as frugal as I can be otherwise, so don’t feel guilty for splurging a little on what we consider to be worthwhile entertainment.

It was a good night out :)

Sharon J

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A Very Good Day

I’m back. It was just a day but a day made a difference.

One of the mistakes I’ve made in life was that I always thought I had to put everything and everybody else before myself in order to be a good mum, housewife, daughter, friend, lover, employee, carer or whichever hat I happened to be wearing at the time. But that’s not so. While we do have certain duties that can’t and shouldn’t be ignored, taking time out to just be ourselves and do whatever we please makes being what we are for others so much easier and more enjoyable. Things become less of a chore. When I wore myself down so much by constantly running round after others and getting emotionally involved in the lives of everybody who felt like drawing me to the point where the stress actually landed me in hospital, I learned that Sharon has to come first. If I don’t look after myself, how can I be of any use to anybody else anyway? I sure as heck wouldn’t be much use buried six foot under the ground.

Anyway, yesterday was good. Very good.

I spent the first part in bed, hooked up to my feeding pump, alternating between an old Peter Robinson book and watching James Martin on the telly. LM came in and sat with me for a while and we chatted about relationships, friends and wotnot.

Once up I filled some rolls while LM fed the pets and we headed for the park. It was a beautiful day and I got a lovely dose of vitamin D while we watched a grandad throwing a stick into a chestnut tree, gathering conkers for his grandsons. It was peaceful and relaxing.

I usually have a bottle of chilled water with me whenever I go out but not so yesterday. When I dived into my canvas shopping bag to find the old Evian bottle (yes, once upon a time I used to buy them regularly), what did I find instead? Frozen sausages. Five plump pork and herb best butcher’s sausages. I’d taken them from the freezer before we left and obviously… well, suffice to say the water bottle was still on the work top at home.

We had bread for the ducks with us too but alas, there were no ducks. Usually, as soon as you bring out the sarnies they surround you but yesterday there was neither a quack to be heard nor a feather to be seen. The ducks had decamped.

After the park, we headed for town. LM wanted to buy a book and although I don’t actually need a new book, taking me into a bookshop is lethal. I mean, is it actually possible to go inside and come out empty handed? I’m sure booksellers cast some magic spell on unsuspecting casual browsers that compels us to buy at least one stack of printed paper bound in an enticing cover. I was good though, I did just buy the one. Well, at that point anyway.

Next LM wanted to go to Superdrug for new make-up. I couldn’t walk that far so suggested I go into a second bookshop to browse while I waited. Do I need to tell you what happened? You know the answer already don’t you? Three books and a four rolls of sellotape later LM found me. But the books were cheap; this was ‘The Works’.

I know shops like this aren’t good news for authors and while I do buy some books new and at full-price (the first one I bought was - honest), I can’t afford to buy them all like that and given the choice between everything at full price, the library and cheap, I have to go with the latter two at times. Well, most of the time actually. I could just stick to the library, and generally do these days, but it’s that being in an actual book shop syndrome thingy…. I just can’t resist opening my purse. Still, all four books cost me £14.96 so that wasn’t too bad. And one’s really useful - it’s all about bi-carb - what it is and it’s gazillion uses. The full-price book is Stuart Machonie’s ‘Pies & Prejudice’ and sounds both interesting and a good laugh. The third is an ‘unusual facts’ type book and as I love useless information it's right up my alley, and the fourth… well that’s a secret cos it’s a Christmas present and the recipient may well be reading this. You just never know who's lurking out there, do you?

Anyway, I was eventually scurfed out of the book shop and off we toddled, back to the car and headed for Morrison’s. I’d seen a three-tier steamer there on Friday for £9.98 and had decided to buy one. Ok, so that was another tenner that could have gone into the kitchen fund but I figured a steamer would give us healthier veg (well, it’d give LM healthier veg - I could eat pig swill and it’d make not a blind bit of difference to me but the veg will be tastier, I‘m sure) and would save money in the long run because I’d only need to use one gas ring for the spuds and veg instead of the usual two or three. I shall be trying it out today when those well-travelled sausages finally get eaten along with mash, carrots & cabbage. They were thawed but still cold by the time we got home.

Speaking of which, we were supposed to have the sausages yesterday - bangers and mash makes a good comfort meal I think - but by the time we got back I was shattered. We’d also been to a car lot to look for a new motor for LM y’see. Hers isn’t very well at the moment. Anyway, too knackered to bother with dinner, we decided to order a take-away. Yes… I parted with even more money. Oh, the extravagance of it all. The local Indian was called and a meal was duly delivered. £13.60...a lot of money when you’re supposed to be frugal and saving as much as possible but it was nice. Very nice. And it was my day to do whatever I liked and believe me, I liked.

We wound up the day by watching a film. I can’t remember the name of it now but it made me cry. But then so does Corrie. And Pet Rescue. And Casualty (the latter for the wrong reasons though - I hate it!). While I watched it, I knitted. I got half a sock done in that time so was quite productive really.

The best thing about the day was that while I got to do what I liked, I also got to spend the day bonding with LM. Mums and daughters need that and in today’s busy society, things like that often get overlooked. Sure, we eat meals together, sometimes go shopping together, and now and then we watch a film together, but a whole day spent together is something else. It was indeed a good day. A very good day.

Sharon J

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Consumer Bullying

Image: T.SC

Apparently, a survey has shown that around 55% of teens here in the UK have been bullied because they didn’t have the right products, be that the latest designer trainers, computer game, mp3 player or some other object that's considered ‘cool’.

I know what it’s like to have children bullied by their peers - it puts a LOT of pressure on parents. We have our own standards and ethics that we try to live by yet at the same time the last thing we want is to put our children through the torture of being sent to school each day to meet the bullies and live another day of hell. Because for the kids concerned, it really can be hell, so much so that some teens choose to end their lives rather than face another day of it.

How do we bring our children up to understand the value of things and that true happiness and contentment with life can’t be found in stuff when they’re receiving the opposite message whenever they set foot outside the home? In fact, they don’t even need to do that. All they need to do is switch on the television or open a magazine to be told that they should have whatever they want ‘because they’re worth it’? (The one advert that really make me cringe right now is the one for DFS furniture that uses Nickleback’s ‘Rockstar’ with all it's "I want..." messages).

I clearly remember my daughter asking for a £70 pair of shoes. This while we were living in an area where most people were on benefits and therefore couldn’t have had (shouldn’t have had?) much of a disposable income. Although I was working, I was on a low income and £70 was a lot of money, probably about what I had left each month after carefully budgeting for the bills, food and other necessities. Out of that I had to clothe my children, furnish our home (it was very basic back then) and run a car, the latter of which was important to me because of Paul, who was difficult to travel on public transport with. Seventy quid for a pair of shoes wasn’t only way above and beyond what I would have considered reasonable for a pair of school shoes, it was impossible to find. The result? She got bullied. Badly.

Eventually both girls were bullied to such an extreme that they were taken out of school. They were too afraid to go there - in fact, they were too afraid to even leave the house without me with them. Up until that point, they’d believed that the answer to their problems lay in having the right stuff, but eventually realised that no amount of worldly goods would ever be ‘good enough’ - the bullies would still find something to pick on them for.

And that’s it. Therein lies the dilemma. Do we give in and buy all sorts of stuff for our kids, supporting the consumer band-wagon and possibly putting ourselves into debt, or do we try to help our children understand that the bullying would go on regardless? That being the ‘cool kid’ isn’t always what it appears to be? That attitude is far more important than material status? How far do we let things go before we cave in to their consumer demands?

Mary Whitehouse may have seemed a bit extreme to most of us but she did have a point when she said that television was corrupting society only these days it’s the adverts I’m opposed to. I realise they’re a necessary evil if we’re to have ‘free view’ channels but what kind of freedom is there in being drip fed with non-information about stuff we should have but really don’t need? I don’t care how much people say “It’s our choice”, It’s akin to brain-washing and unless we’re very strong, it’s easy to be misguided, especially while we‘re young and susceptible to all sorts of influences. Yes, we can turn the TV off but does that really mean our teens will never be exposed to it? Of course not.

I don’t have the answer to the problem (but oh how I wish I did!) but it’s a sad state of affairs when our children’s lives are being wrecked because of the pressures of our money oriented consumer society. All I hope is that the credit crunch will have more parents thinking twice about what they buy their kids, and that some of the pressure will eventually lift.

Sharon J

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The Black Sheep

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One of my cousins has her birthday today. She’ll be 48 too.

We grew up together and share a lot of history but eventually she moved to another part of the country and we didn’t see each other quite as much. Then I moved to Norway and, apart from Christmas card, we lost touch.

One of the things I did when I got back to England was to get back in touch with her. We hit it off pretty well and would phone each other about once a month to share family gossip and generally have a laugh. We weren’t what I’d describe as close but we definitely had a friendship.

The rest of my family were still pretty much outside of my social and family networks though. I’d have the occasional chat with one or two on the phone, email with a couple of others but that was the extent of it. Those people who had all lived within walking distance of our house when I was little were now spread around Essex and East Anglia.

My dad was no doubt to blame for a lot of the ‘coolness‘. He decided about fifteen years ago that he no longer wanted anything to do with two of his sisters and their families. I know why but I can’t see that it was good enough reason to cut all contact with them, but that was his choice. My cousin would tell me about family christenings, silver anniversaries and all sorts that we’d never been invited to. And yes, it hurt. As far as I knew I’d done nothing to deserve that kind of treatment.

Anyhow, one day I received an email from another cousin, an email that I found particularly vulgar. It was outright racist propaganda in the form of a joke (remember the one that some government minister was hauled up for having forwarded?) and I really didn’t find it funny. I told her so, she replied saying that we’re all entitled to our opinions and that was that. Or so I thought.

Unfortunately somebody I forwarded it to (not as a funny joke but just to show him how disgusting it was) traced the email address that it had come to me via and contacted my cousin’s boss, telling him that she’d been using company emails to send out such dirt. As he’s Asian himself, I can only imagine what his reaction would have been.

Fast forward a few weeks and a letter arrives in the post. It’s from the cousin concerned and basically tells me that she knows I was behind it all and that I was hiding behind the other person’s name and that the whole family are so disgusted with me that I can no longer consider myself part of them.

Riiiight. Ok. If that’s the way they want it then it isn’t really such a big loss to me - it was years since I’d ever felt I had an extended family so I wasn’t likely to miss it much. What upset me though was the fact that they’d just jumped to conclusions without even consulting me first. I’m guessing they traced the domain name registration that the email came from and found out that I’d registered it. What they obviously didn’t think of though, is that a domain name doesn’t have to be used by the person who registers it. I’d register this particular one for the person who did send the email because I built their website.

I’ve since called the cousin I got along with but she was clearly uncomfortable. There have been no phone calls from her since, and no texts. I didn’t even get a birthday card, something she always used to remember. Having lost her trust is what saddens me by it all - the rest of them I’m really not bothered about. But I guess that’s just life for you. People come and go.

I’ve still sent her a birthday card though.

Sharon J

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Lion King, The Lyceum & Andrew

Image: mpozzobon

I’ve promised a few people that I’d write a post about our visit to The Lyceum Theatre to see Lion King while we were in London a couple of weekends ago so here goes. It’s perhaps not quite the story you’re expecting though.

The day started out bad. We were stuck in traffic, had to dash about to find a dress for LM to wear, and get something to eat. We’d had nothing since breakfast and as my mum had given us the money to go and get a decent meal on her, we wanted to find a nice restaurant. Could we find one? Not on your nelly!

London’s splitting at the seams with pubs and restaurants but along our route from Stratford to Central London via Bethnal Green, Mile End and Aldgate, there wasn’t much to get excited about. Well, there were plenty of Indian, Chinese, Thai, Caribbean & Italian restaurants but we wanted English food. Not that we have anything against ethnic food, we'd just made up our minds, that's all. In the end we decided to settle for a pub meal but even that went wrong. The waiting time was too long for us to be able to eat and get to the theatre on time, so we upped and went again.

We parked up close-ish to the Lyceum and headed for the theatre via an Italian restaurant where we booked a table for after the show. By this time we’d given up on English food. Once that was sorted, we joined the theatre queue. A long queue. Oh dear… and on legs that already hurt from walking the 200 meters from the car. But it moved surprisingly quickly so I was feeling more optimistic when I walked inside only to be faced with at least 100 stairs up to the Circle.

WHAAAAAT!!!???

I couldn’t believe it. Where were the lifts? Out of action, I was told.

How I ever got up those stairs will forever remain a mystery to me. My legs were hurting, my heart was beating so hard it felt as though I’d have a heart attack at any moment, my chest was hurting, my back hurt… I was, to say the least, a bit of a sorry sight. But I got up ‘em through sheer stubbornness. I’d paid £35 for that ticket and I’m was blowed if I was going to waste it!

We managed to find our seats easily enough but half way through the performance I needed the loo. That meant climbing back up the 20 or so steps to the back of circle again but I figured it was better to do that than pee myself. Well… you would, wouldn’t you? What I didn’t realise is that once you got beyond the door marked ‘toilets’, there were another 6 flights of stairs heading down to them. I stood at the top, wondering whether I’d be able to hold it for the rest of the performance and go on the way out. No, I knew I couldn’t. I had to tackle those stairs.

Getting down was relatively easy but once I’d relieved myself came the task of getting up them again. By the last flight I was counting them. Just three more… just two more… just….. ARGGHHHH!

My legs gave way and I went head first into the concrete wall. As I went down my lower knee hit against the metal edge of the stair pushing my knee cap up and I soon found myself laying spread-eagled on the landing in considerable pain.

Enter Andrew.

Help was called for (thanks to a young girl who happened to be standing on the landing at the time) and Andrew, a young Australian guy, appeared. And what a wonderful bloke he was! He had somebody bring me an ice-pack, sent somebody else to find my daughter for me, and once the worse of the pain had subsided, helped me get down to the stalls where he found us seats at the back (it was a full house so he had to bring in two chairs especially) and did everything he could to make sure I was comfortable. At the end of the performance he came back, waited with me until my daughter had brought the car round, helped me get out of the place and then cleared the area outside of rik-shaw people so that LM could bring the car right up to the main entrance.

I’ve just emailed The Lyceum praising Andrew for the way he helped me. He really did go beyond what I would have expected.

Anyway we go home, still starving but too late and too tired to get anything so had to make do with a take-away pizza for lunch the next day. It wasn’t quite the same. What's more, we'd been given a parking ticket because, unknown to me, my blue badge isn't valid for parking other than in designated disabled spaces in the City of Westminster. Buggar! Another £60 to fork out.

As for the show itself, if you’re ever in London and want to see a good musical, I’d definitely recommend Lion King. It’s different to anything I’ve ever seen before. I’m still amazed at how they’ve managed to re-create such a complex story in such a simple but unique and artistically challenging way.

Sharon J

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I'm Off To London

Image: Dimitry B

Later this morning LM and I will be heading down the M6 to visit the Queen my mum and Paul in London. We’re staying in Woodford, which makes East London, where they are, easily accessible but without having to stay in the dreadful hotel that we used last time. The beds were like slabs of concrete and I’m afraid I like a little more comfort. My bony body doesn’t do hard very well and my days of crashing out on floors and in bath tubs are well and truly over.

I’m really excited about going because, for one reason and another, it’s almost two years since I last visited Mum. Not only will it be really nice to spend time with a lady whom I have huge love and respect for, but I’ve been missing Paul a lot lately too. What's more, I’ll get to eat Pie & Mash and there’s nothing quite like a good ol’ East End Pie & Mash dinner, with lashing of liqour!

I’ll also get a spring roll from my favourite Chinese take-away. It’s been there since I was just a girl and the recipe doesn’t seem to ever have changed. It’s the best spring roll in the world! Well… probably. Obviously I haven’t tasted them all but it’s by far the best of those I have tasted.

Tomorrow evening we’ll be going out for dinner followed by a visit to the theatre to see 'The Lion King'. Oh, the indulgence! But hey… it's also two years since we last went to the theatre (to see a ballet performance of 'Cinderella') so it’s not as if we do it every week. And even though I'm supposed to be saving as much as possible, I really don't mind spending a bit on some quality entertainment and time spent with my daughter. Mum and Paul won't be coming - Mum because she can't leave Dad and Paul because he won't leave Mum on her own. One day we'll all do something together.

LM’s driving - I’m not sure I’m strong enough to manage the long drive back after a busy couple of days yet, so we’ll be poodling down the motorway in her old Corsa. It’s not let her down so far so finger’s crossed it won’t conk out somewhere between here and East London.

I’ve scheduled a couple of posts to go up while I’m away but obviously I won’t be responding to comments or reading other blogs. I’ll do my best to catch up once I back home and rested, though.

Have fun while I’m gone.

Sharon J xx

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Paul - A Prime Example of Simplicity

My son’s 30 and has what’s termed as ‘profound learning difficulties’. When he was six months old I was told that he would be ‘a vegetable’ (the doctor’s actual term) and was advised to put him into care and forget him. Yes, that’s actually what I was told.

I didn’t. I was just 17 but I knew that with my mum's support, I could give him a life he deserved.

He was 3 ½ when he took his first step and nowadays we call him ‘the roadrunner’ because he dashes along, making it practically impossible for even fit people to keep up, let alone me with my dodgy legs or my mum on her aging pins. He can dress himself (although needs to be reminded put on clean clothes otherwise he’d wear the same things for a year!), he can bath himself if he’s supervised and reminded to rinse himself off properly and given help to wash his hair and get dry, and although he can’t prepare a meal, he can eat without help (although I have to admit that a good deal of it tends to land on his t-shirt or his lap) and he can perform simple household tasks like emptying the rubbish bin, feeding the pets, and vacuuming the floor (but not if it involves pulling the furniture out). In other words, he’s far from a vegetable.

He can’t speak but has an amazing ability to make himself understood through gestures and body language although you’d have to meet him to really understand the extent of his talent (and it IS a talent). He can’t count to more than 3 or write anything other than his name and some crosses (kisses) and he can’t manage complex computer games or even board games. He can sit for hours ‘counting’ pennies and stacking them up though, and even longer with his Magnetix and believe me, he loves nothing more than helping out.

Paul is kindness personified. As long as it’s within his capabilities, he’ll do anybody a favour, and most often he’ll give it a go even if he can’t do it. Unfortunately, the latter sometimes leads to problems because he‘ll have a go at something he hasn‘t been asked to do (like when he decided to change a plug or the time he drilled a hole in the wall). He’s only trying to be useful, though.

He loves animals, nature and sunshine but he doesn’t really complain if it’s raining and he gets wet. He hates it if he thinks people are being unfair to others and cries if a person or animal gets hurt. He’ll comfort you when you’re feeling down and he’s a master at making people laugh. In fact, it doesn’t take much to make him laugh - watching The Simpsons has him in fits!

Paul doesn’t demand much. He doesn’t ask for the latest Cds or DVDs but is happy when he gets one. He doesn’t demand the latest fashions but is happy when he wears something new (unless we’re talking trainers, in which case he’d rather wear the old ones until they fall off his feet). He’s perfectly happy with second-hand furniture in his room and at the moment he’s more than happy with a mattress on the floor in his nan’s room (there’s no room for a proper bed) just because he’s close to her and can be there for her should she need help in the night. He doesn’t want to dine out at fancy restaurants but thinks it’s fun to pop into the bakers for a cake and a cup of hot chocolate now and then, and he neither smokes nor drinks alcohol. He does drink too much milk for his own good, though.

What really upsets him is the way some people react. The stares, the comments made within earshot, and the sniggers from the ‘uneducated’. These things make him both sad and angry.

Recently I told him that I was planning to take him away on holiday. He hasn’t been anywhere for over 2 years - not even as much as a day trip - so I thought that being as he spends the majority of his time either helping Mum with the shopping, helping her with my very ill and dependant father, or just doing some bits and pieces to help Mum around the house, he’d appreciate a break. Alas, Paul didn’t want to go.

Sunshine, beaches, the warm sea, karaoke bars and hotel type join-in entertainment, all of which he usually loves, just weren’t enough to entice him away from his nan. His answer was that she needs him with her to help look after Grandad and to be able to carry the shopping home. That’s a kind and incredibly unselfish heart!

When I see ‘kids’ making demands on their parents for the latest computer game consoles, the latest designer gear, the best holidays and lord only knows what else, and still they’re sulky and miserable and complain that they’re hard done by, I can’t help but think how much better Paul’s life actually is. He’s happy in his simplicity.

Next time somebody says “he’s simple, isn’t he?”, I shall take it as a compliment. He is, he's happy that way and I love him for it.

Sharon J

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I'm So Excited...

Lise

My daughter arrives today. Yippee!

She lives in Norway and has been back and forth – through choice – between her father and me since she was twelve. She’s now 22 and seems to have settled out there for good. It’s where she was born, where she spent the first eleven years of her life, and where half of her family are. She is, without a doubt, more Norwegian than English.

I miss her, there’s no denying that, but I’m also glad that she’s living out there because the lifestyle is so much better than what we have here. Maybe it wouldn’t be so marked if we were living elsewhere in the UK, but right here there’s not much to compare to what she has. Clean air, miles upon miles of open spaces that aren’t farmed so can be used for recreational purposes, lakes galore, beautiful mountains, breathtaking fjords... it’s such an unspoilt country in so many ways, unlike our densely (overpopulated?) island. And the people are generally nice, too.

But still I’m a mum and mums miss their daughters so you can imagine how excited I am to be seeing her later. She doesn’t land until nearly half past eleven tonight though, so I have a whole day to get through first. Richard and I have already made my bedroom look half decent for her, as much as it can with the state of the decor anyway, but I'll put some fresh flowers in there to brighten it up. I've been relegated to Paul's temporarily vacated room. Then I'll try to find some other stuff to do to help pass the time away. I can’t be too energetic though of I’ll flag later and won’t be able to drive all the way to Birmingham and back. I must keep reminding myself to slow down. I have the top of the fridge to declutter and clean though, so at least that's something to do.

Lise’s bringing her new boyfriend with her too, hence me moving out of my bedroom for a fortnight. Apparently he’s very nervous about meeting 'the mother' and knowing his reasons, I can understand. But I don’t bite and I don’t judge people by their skin, clothes, hair or anything else superficial. It’s what’s inside him that will matter and from what Lise has said, he’s pretty good to her.

I’ll still be blogging while she’s here because I generally do that early in the morning anyway, but I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t visit other blogs as often as I usually do. I'll try to pop in now and then though.

Have a lovely day.

Sharon J x

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Scans, Birthdays, Fish and Kittens

Lise, being all pouty

Today is a special day. It's my older daughter's 22nd birthday and the day I get to meet my new kitten for the first time.

It's hard to believe it's so long since my first baby girl was born. It's funny how every detail of the moment we first meet our babies sticks with us forever, isn't it? I can remember it as if it were just last week. She looked pretty much like she does now, just less hair and smaller :)

But back to today. This afternoon I’m off to the hospital for a bone scan. My doctor's concerned that I may be developing osteoporosis, a condition that’s common amongst those on long-term TPN, so he naturally wants it checked. Apparently it’s a simple, painless procedure so nothing I ought to be dreading. I’ve no idea how long it’ll be before I get the results but as I’m not the kind to worry about what might happen, I shan’t be losing any sleep over it.

As my appointment’s late afternoon I’m hoping that the local fish n’ chip shop will be open when I’ve finished. Richard and I discovered it by accident a couple of years ago and they have the best fish n’ chips in the whole world there. Well maybe not, being as I haven’t tasted food from every chippie, but it’d take a lot to beat it. Once fed we’ll be heading to my friend Jo’s house as she’s the proud ‘human mum’ of six kittens, one of which is called Jack and will be coming to live with me in about two weeks from now.




Isn’t he gorgeous? I haven’t seen him in real life yet so I’m dead excited. Jo has sent me regular photo updates and even made me a video clip so I feel as if I know him already but being able to actually stroke him and give him a cuddle, that’s gonna be the perfect way to round off the day. Seeing Jo again will be good, too. And her other half if he isn't working late. They’re such a great couple.

But all that isn’t until later. There’s a whole day to be enjoyed first. I shall be taking it very easy, though. Mustn’t knock myself out when I have to travel, be put through a scanner, eat fish n’ chips and visit a kitten : )

Sharon J xx

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Growing Up

Photo: Danny McL

I often think that my childhood and teenage years has helped me live a simple, frugal lifestyle.

There wasn’t much money around when I was young and most of what we had available Dad spent on beer. I know it isn't nice to speak badly of one's own family but he was an alcoholic (he's now very ill and senile) and very selfish with it. Mum was given a pittance for housekeeping and out of that she was expected to buy both her own and my clothes and anything else that we needed, too. She supplemented it buy taking an early morning cleaning job and doing child minding during the day but considering she also had to be pay the electricity bill, making ends meet was a constant struggle.

Dad didn’t care much about the house, he spent most of his time either at work or out drinking so why would he? It was never modernised so there was no hot water, no indoor loo, certainly no bathroom and the only heating was a simple gas fire in the living room. We boiled kettles and pans for hot water, the outside privy didn’t flush so we’d have to carry a bucket of water round with us whenever we wanted to go and bath day meant dragging a heavy tin bath into the house, filling it from umpteen kettles and pans and then dragging it full out into the back yard again, where it was emptied down the drain and hung back on its nail. There was no luxury in our house, believe me. The bedrooms were freezing but Mum couldn’t afford to keep electric heaters on; the bill was just about as much as she could handle as it was. Most of my clothes were hand-me-downs or things my nan sewed for me. She also sewed most of Mum’s clothes. She wasn’t very good so they were all in the same style.

As I grew into a teenager I obviously wanted to fit in with my peers more. I didn’t want to wear horrible crimplene dresses – I wanted 70s fashions. When I think back now, that must have put terrible pressure on Mum but she got me what she could and I never felt I was any worse dressed than my friends. In fact, I was more fashionable than some. I still didn’t have the latest gadgets they had though, but that didn’t bother me. And while their families all had phones, I didn’t consider it as hardship to walk to the phone box.

I think if I’d been given everything, or even most of what I’d wanted, I would never have learned to appreciate the small things. As it was, if Mum came home with a record she knew I’d wanted or a pair of fancy tights, it was like Christmas all over again!

We always had holidays, though. For all Dad's faults, he did make sure the family got away to the coast once a year. We also spent many a Sunday afternoon picnicing in Kent because Mum felt it was important to get me out of the polluted air of London's East End and let me breathe in some fresh stuff instead.

Regardless of how little we had, I have lots of happy memories from my childhood and Mum and I often have a good laugh on the phone reminiscing about the 'old days'. I had my mother's time and love, I had wonderful grandparents, and we lived in a street with a real sense of community. No amount of 'things' could ever have replaced those.

Debi put hit the nail on the head in the comments section of a post I wrote a while ago. She said “happiness is wanting what you have, not having what you want”. What a wise lady :-)

Sharon J xx

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