A sad anniversary

It's one year ago today that Poppy died. :o((


~ Never forgotten...sleep tight 'Poppy cat' ~

That's it....

...time is up I can't any longer prevaricate about my current situation.

I'm sick to death of living in this limbo, of having a thousand and one things to consider and to make decisions about. Maybe I needed time to let my mind adapt to the changes in my life recently, maybe I just needed a little time to think but whatever it was I did need I don't need it anymore, what I do need is to get some semblance of order back into my life and instead of thinking about what I'm going to do, actually do it!

There is no point mulling over the why's and where for's any longer, nothing to be gained by imagining that somehow, something will magically happen to alleviate the situation because it won't, this is the real world and shit happens so it's time for action and this week I will take action.

So many things depend right now on other things happening and the first is that I have to bite the bullet and file my bankruptcy papers with the courts. Goodbye credit rating, goodbye mortgages and credit cards...I have to enter the twighlight world of 'financial non-entity' but enter it I will and with a fist full of cash for ironically one has to pay a considerable sum for the priveledge

Ok, so an hour with a judge and another few with a receiver isn't my idea of fun but it has to be done, the sooner it's done the sooner I can begin looking forward to my discharge, not that in practice discharge from bankruptcy makes much difference, the courts might consider a year long enough punishment but most other institutions consider six years more appropriate!

Hey ho, it's a start, I can't say I relish the next week or two but it will be one less thing to worry about and consider and one more thing I can begin to consign to history.

Don't quit

I saw this while I was out and about at the weekend....kinda rung true and made me smile :o)

When things go wrong, and sometimes they will,
when the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
when funds are low and debts are high and you want to smile but you have to sigh,
when care is pressing you down a bit, rest if you must but don't you quit.

Life is strange with it's twists and turns as everyone of us sometimes learns,
and many a failure turns about, when he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don't give up though the pace seems slow, you might succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is much nearer than it seems to a faint or faltering man,
often the struggler gives up when he might have won the victors cup,
and when he learns too late as night comes down how close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out, the silver tint of clouds of doubt,
and you never can tell how close you are, it may be near when it seems so far.
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit, it's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.

Skylight

What's a girl to do?

Life is looking pretty good today, my options are endless, well ok, maybe only in a day to day sense, the whole world isn't exactly at my feet but I'm looking forward to a good day!

The site of my recent dental trauma is by now allowing me to perform slightly more normally, I may even manage to eat enough not to spend the entire day hungry as I did the last two days, the long awaited prospect of being able to clean my teeth properly beckons, believe me, you didn't want to kiss me the last 48 hours and the pain is receding nicely. The only downside is a week of salt mouthwashes....not an attractive proposition but even the possibility of opening my mouth wide enough to enable that function is a pleasure after the last two days!

Add to all that, by circumstance I have unlimited internet access today, it's early and I'm surprisingly wide awake, I have coffee, feline company, a stack of books to read, a whole completely free day at my disposal.......and shops! Hell, what's a girl to do?

Now...in the mind of a female that probably doesn't seem a difficult decision to make but to the male of the species it's maybe less obvious, so let me explain: You see it's like this.......woman undergoes big and scary trauma, woman suffers pain and discomfort as a result, woman behaves with more than the usual degree of bravery in the face of adversity......the result; woman feels deserved of a treat and goes shopping!

See...no contest, the theory and actuality are straightforward.....

Woman considers herself to have suffered, the only real and true cure is to shop!

There is no choice!

It's a conspiracy

Yesterday was the dreaded day for my first round of dental pummelling. You may or may not (probably not) remember my posting on my recent visit for a check up, the first in five years courtesy of Scotland's lack of dentists prepared to work on the NHS.

On that occasion I was cheerfully informed I needed a crown but I would be contacted further if anything more showed up in the X-rays. Something more did show up...apparently two small fillings, today I was to have the first of these.

Now, my phobia of dentists has also not gone unmentioned here. Well, it's not so much the dentist. him or herself presents no problem but the procedures they carry out do....a big problem, the biggest of which is extraction! But, having met 'Mr Very Nice Dentist' at my check up and having been assured he understood my fears and that I was to have a filling, I set off this morning only half scared to death.

Upon my arrival, with the benefit of hindsight, the receptionists greeting of me was marginally strange, she appeared slightly uncomfortable but in my state of nervousness I barely registered her existence let alone her manner, and so in I went when I was called, full of bravery......only to be informed by 'Mr Very Nice Dentist' that the tooth I thought was to be filled actually required extraction!!!! Yes, he could possibly repair it with two or three hours work but it would only last a year or two and alternatively it could be wrenched from my mouth brutally removed painlessly, in a matter of seconds.

At this point my flight or fight response kicked in big time, my body suddenly knew it was harboring way too much adrenaline and in that horrible state of trying to hide near panic, I tried to listen coherently to 'Mr Very Nice Dentists' advice.

There was it seemed nothing really to decide. My five year lack of dental care (Thank you Scotland's NHS, I love you too) had resulted in a pretty crap tooth and out it had to come and so hanging onto the nurses hand for dear life, trying to somehow not behave like a small frightened child, I gritted my teeth (pun intended) and we went for it. Four large injections later (yup, it wouldn't 'numb up' with the usual two, oh joy) and a swift and practiced wrench and the offending tooth was history, amazingly I am still here to tell the tale!!!...... Though I did require to be left prone for ten minutes before I could maintain an upright position without assistance, my legs didn't really know what they were doing for a while, my hands shook uncontrollably and I was damn glad I had my dad with me to drive home!

So why the 'conspiracy' title...because the dentist knew all along, as did his nurse and receptionist that the tooth was to go but he also knew that if he had told me in the original phone call what was to be done, I would have never shown up!

This guy certainly has me sussed and he was of course right. At the very least I would have had a fair few sleepless nights prior to the dreaded appointment and indeed would probably have cancelled...as it is, it's all done and dusted and whilst I might feel like I've been punched in the face right now by someone with significant upper body strength, it's a good job done with a minimum of cowardice and hoo ha!

The guy is a bastard star! :o)

Anyone got a straw?

Deserved success

On the subject, (ok we weren't but I was a few days ago) of my rediscovered pleasure in books, congratulations to Tom Reynolds (AKA his real name), author of the almost legendary blog 'Random Acts of Reality', who made it into The Guardian today.....on the subject of his book 'Blood, Sweat and Tea' which is going into it's second print and has remained in Amazons top thirty for over four weeks now!

Wow!

Read the internet version here.

Oh, and it's kinda wired to finally get to see a picture of someone you have only imagined for so long.

The last bastion falls

A small disaster has befallen the life of gemmak today, or at least the knowledge that it will do before very much longer.

Since my move South, when things have become particularly 'trying' and I have sought a place of solace, I have headed to the great and the good that is Caffe Nero ....and you thought it was just a coffee bar eh?


Nero's was is my little bit of heaven, my place of escape, somehwere I can wile away an hour or two with a good book, a fantastic restretto or cappuccino and most of all a place I can enjoy these things and settle my mind's concerns, all with a cigarette in hand....for Nero's didn't judge, they didn't deem the pariahs like myself as evil, no, they allowed the top floor of their wonderful coffee emporium to be inhabited by smokers! It was heaven indeed. They stood alone, Nero's was hallowed ground. The one place, the only place I knew that allowed me, as the devil incarnate, to truly relax with my favourite things, caffeine, a book and a smoke.

But the last bastion has fallen, things are looking bleak, for today, as I made my merry way to the counter to order, book clutched in hand, I was greeted by a heinous sign announcing that from 14th September, they too will bow to the pressure of the 'good and the sensible', of those who hop blithely onto one or another of the politically correct bandwagons..... and smoking will no longer be allowed anywhere on their premises.

There have of course been customer surveys (though no one 'surveyed' me despite my almost daily visits) professing to prove that their customers wishes are that the evil weed be banned but hey, did anyone survey any smokers?, because one thing is for sure, in the particular branch I use, the top floor, the smokers domain, is always far busier than the lower floor that is already a smoke free zone!

A bleak day indeed.....hell, I know that next year it will be obligatory anyways but I had faith in these guys.....

Toilet humour!

Thank you to Astrantia for leaving this link in my comments.

For any of you cat people who didn't catch it there it's worth a click. :o)

It's good to talk

So, it's Friday again and it's seemed a long time in coming this week in some respects, though somewhere deep inside of me something has changed over the last few days and this week hasn't been quite as difficult as many that have gone before in recent months. Somehow the 'rawness' of my emotions seems to be salved a little.

Firstly there has been the 'niece distraction', and albeit I joke about the trials and tribulations of being an auntie and I wouldn't want a whole child, she has been fun, her company has distracted me from my current aggravations and it's just kinda nice to be with someone for whom life appears simple and who's immediate happiness depends on sweets, fun and lots of cuddles. I shall miss her when she goes, loath though I am to admit it.

Secondly I think my lighter mood can be put down to communication....it's good to talk,(why am I using a BT tagline? I hate BT!), it's good to really talk, to share one's greatest fears and concerns, to air grievances and try to find a deeper understanding of what makes ourselves and others function and react as we do. It is maybe rare to be able to be completely honest and open with others, to have an affinity that allows us to take the risk, take the final steps to make ourselves completely vulnerable, and it takes immense trust in one's confidante, for when we open ourselves up to others and dare to explore parts of our own psyche we don't usually, or prefer not too, acknowledge in ourselves, we are at our most vulnerable. It is hard, it hurts like hell and we don't always receive the answers that we want, but it is also calming to have our thoughts and feelings listened too, validated and to share our innermost fears....true communication is invaluable, a rare gift.

Yup...I think that's the word, 'calm', I feel a little calmer this week, I no longer feel quite like a headless chicken rushing about trying to take the world and it's wife on all at once, I have slept some, I don't feel quite so overwhelmed and now, add to that, it's Friday!.....and you know how I love Fridays.

Ok, so nothing has really changed, the practicalities and problems I face remain much the same but maybe, just maybe, my perception of them and of some of the situations I find myself in has changed some.

......things are looking up (she say's tentatively), long may it last! :o)


*Thank you for being there.......you know who you are.

Room with a view

Even suburban bedrooms provide a pretty good view from time to time!

Yesterday evening from gemmak's bedroom.......


(Clickable)

Small interruptions!

So, it's the school summer holidays and in [new] gemmak's-ville that means but one thing....the invasion for a week of a small child.

It has become family tradition here that my nieces, on alternate years, take it in turns to spend a week here on holiday with my parents, their grandparents....and this year it is the turn of the eight year old to turn the place and our reasonably quiet haven into a mad house have her little holiday.

Life is just not the same. From the outset each day things begin to be 'testing'. There is absolutely no chance whatsoever that my much required and revered early morning routine will go as planned! It is usual that I rise before the rest of the inmates here, creep downstairs and enjoy at least half an hours solitude with a very necessary cup of strong coffee and a cigarette or two in the garden (weather permitting), whilst my mind and body attempt to prepare themselves for another days assault and I muster myself from the oblivion that is the 'Oh Jesus is it morning again already' state of mind.

Oh no, none of that. This week I am woken from my slumber (assuming I got any in the first place) by the particularly brutal sound of said small child enquiring at high decibel level as to whether I am still asleep...um...well I was! This decibel level is of course designed to make sure that sleep rapidly becomes a thing of distant memory and we have to trail downstairs within a moment or two.... already in deep conversation. Heavens above, it's just not normal!

Once arrived at the kitchen she also requires a cup of coffee, though of course she doesn't really like coffee and certainly doesn't drink it but apparently there is something very 'grown up' about sitting in the garden in ones pajamas at 6.30 am, pretending to enjoy coffee!

From this moment on in the day this child talks nineteen to the dozen...non stop, no let up, question after question, statement after statement, request after request...on and on and on it goes....by breakfast time my first headache is already well entrenched! ;o)

The next test of our stoicism is to see if we can maneuver her through breakfast and her ablutions in something less than a three hour period and in time to take her for a day out somewhere, apparently if one is eight years old the distractions from these necessary tasks are many and various and all way too tempting to even consider displaying a modicum of resistance.

The remainder of the day usually passes in reasonable normality, my parents whisk small child off for a days entertainment and I go about my usual business, or lack of it as the case is recently.

The evening once again becomes 'interesting'. I am required to listen to chapter and verse of her days outings at least seven times, play with any newly acquired toys, read leaflets and books aplenty and come up with believable answers for her myriad questions.

The later evening (for this is a holiday, no early bedtimes this week, godamn) presents yet more new challenges. This eight year old apparently requires nail extensions to be applied and manicured (is this a usual holiday treat? it sure as hell wasn't when I was eight), software of various descriptions to be installed onto either my laptop or my fathers pc (at such a tender age she has an uncanny knack with a mouse and the navigating of XP) to provide entertainment yet later in the evening or in preparation for the following morning, a wardrobe for the following morning also has to be selected with care and CD's have to be listened to avidly....if one can listen to such 'noise' ok...I'm old with any degree of avid interest!

By this point I am beginning to feel my patience becoming just a tiny bit frayed, suggestions of fifteen minutes 'reading time' usually fall on deaf ears and whilst I try to bury myself in my book she fiddles with the pages I'm attempting to hide for fear of her reading any 'inappropriate' vocabulary. So I give up and instead revert to answering questions. How exactly does a child of eight manage to string together sentences that most of us at well above the age of eight would struggle to compose? My experience of children is obviously severely limited and I have nothing with which to make a comparison but hells bells, are all kids nowadays so unnervingly articulate?

There is one saving grace in all of this....somehow, somewhere she has learnt to give the most amazingly professional full body massage which she is only to happy to practice at the latter part of the day....it's just a damn shame I have to get back onto my feet subsequently for the bathing and bedtime story reading malarky......oh, and she does of course charge 50p per massage!

Hey..... how do people do this 24/7? Much as I love her to bits, give me a cat any day!

'Earth School'

In my mail box this morning and with thanks to it's sender.

To bear this ethos in mind is something I think wouldn't go amiss in my life right now and is probably always be helpful to remember.

From The Daily Om:

Life is the province of learning, and the wisdom we acquire throughout our lives is the reward of existence. As we traverse the winding roads that lead from birth to death, experience is our patient teacher. We exist, bound to human bodies as we are, to evolve, enrolled by the universe in earth school, an informal and individualized academy of living, being, and changing. Life's lessons can take many forms and present us with many challenges. There are scores of mundane lessons that help us learn to navigate with grace, poise, and tolerance in this world. And there are those once-in-a-lifetime lessons that touch us so deeply that they change the course of our lives. The latter can be heartrending, and we may wander through life as unwilling students for a time. But the quality of our lives is based almost entirely on what we derive from our experiences.

Earth school provides us with an education of the heart and the soul, as well as the intellect. The scope of our instruction is dependent on our ability and readiness to accept the lesson laid out before us in the circumstances we face. When we find ourselves blindsided by life, we are free to choose to close our minds or to view the inbuilt lesson in a narrow-minded way. The notion that existence is a never-ending lesson can be dismaying at times. The courses we undertake in earth school can be painful as well as pleasurable, and as taxing as they are eventually rewarding. However, in every situation, relationship, or encounter, a range of lessons can be unearthed. When we choose to consciously take advantage of each of the lessons we are confronted with, we gradually discover that our previous ideas about love, compassion, resilience, grief, fear, trust, and generosity could have been half-formed.

Ultimately, when we acknowledge that growth is an integral part of life and that attending earth school is the responsibility of every individual, the concept of "life as lesson" no longer chafes. We can openly and joyfully look for the blessing buried in the difficulties we face without feeling that we are trapped in a roller-coaster ride of forced learning. Though we cannot always know when we are experiencing a life lesson, the wisdom we accrue will bless us with the keenest hindsight.

Television? No ta.

I have a rediscovered pleasure in my life.

I was born and bought up in a household who's very existence, by virtue of the fact that my father worked his entire professional life in television, relied upon the great God that stands in the corner of most of our living rooms and provides us with 'entertainment' at the press of a button.

This though, rather than making us slaves to it did the reverse. My parents where all too aware of the clap trap on offer much of the time and so as children our 'viewing allowance' was very limited and the television itself was relegated to a separate room in an attempt to prevent us from becoming 'square eyed'. We were encouraged instead to play, read, talk etc. etc.....and it worked for a time, until of course in my case, I left home and gradually became victim of the great God, soaking up hour after hour of one banality or another.

Latterly I lived in households where the television was 'on' as a matter of course for most of the day doing that infernal 'moving wallpaper' thing, and I like anyone am just as capable of becoming glued to it as the next person. Hell, there was a time I never missed an episode of Coronation Street or Casualty and even now it would take the strength of ten men to forcibly remove me from infront of the machine, should I happen by it at 7.30pm on a Monday/Wednesday/Friday!

Having returned temporarily to my parents house where the TV is still sited 'out of the line of sight' things have changed ...only twice have I actually sat and watched anything (Ok so it was Corrie but I'm only human), instead I have a rediscovered passion for books.

As a child and teenager I always had a book on the go, books were my friends, but as I got more able to access the ease of TV and unable to concentrate against it's background noise I stopped reading almost entirely.

My ability to read fast has diminished for lack of practice but recently, once again, I always have a book close at hand and I have actually read from cover to cover three novels in the last few weeks, rather than get a few pages in a give up.... The Da Vinci code, a Bill Bryson and now a particularly amusing 'beach book'. Ok, so the classics it ain't but you know what.... I don't miss TV one little tiny iota, I am a born again reader and added to that I actually converse with people instead of grunting at them in annoyance for interrupting my trance like state in front of the infernal black box.

Television? No ta!