20 Ways to Dress a Christmas Tree

I spent the WHOLE day today shopping for a Xmas tree for The Git, who has been complaining as we cannot find ours.  I am on a limited budget so had to shop around, which meant driving to the 'Great God' Trago Mills. Look it up if you do not understand what Trago is. Trago must have the biggest selection of artificial/real trees in the world. The decorations take up a whole floor and despite me being completely convinced that I would go for a purple/black thing this year, the traditionalist in me won through and it went Green, Gold....oh and erm Green and Gold.  Pathetic! Most pathetic is me buying an artificial tree.

I do feel as though I should have gone to the gardening department and found a completely unsuitable live/half dead 8ft tree that would shed pine needles in my driving seat and wreck my car for a year. Oh, and then getting it into the house would involve breaking out the hoover, six times a day for the next four years! Honestly, I have done that for the last 20 odd years but three years ago...I gave up, forgive me.

Onto tonight. This is my story.

PART ONE

1. Buy pre-lit 6ft tree at ASDA.
2. Drive to Trago, spend 17 hours wandering around being a bit dazed by all the bling
3. Want a tasteful and sort of Eastern European Tree with lots of wooden ornaments, raffia and NO tinsel.
4. Realise that no 2 son wants Bling.
5. Spend another 3 hours trying to decide.
6. Go for a coffee and think ' yep, I am going to go for raffia and lovely wooden ornaments'.
7. Get into car with GOLD,GOLD,GOLD....glitter dripping off my car keys, in my hair, on my fingers. Cannot see through glasses due to glitter.
8. Pick up The Git. Tell him what I have bought him. Git feigns utter disgust at my choice and refuses to decorate tree.

PART TWO

9. Have a glass of the pink whilst contemplating evil boxes containing Tree and Blingy things.
10. Have another as I am not sure how to proceed. I have bought very cheap decorations, meaning I have to spend at least four hours threading crap gold thread through them.
11. Struggle with 'Pre-Lit Tree'. Spend five hours tweaking and making sure it is just so, Think I've got it?
12.Have another glass of the pink whist I think what to do, spend just another hour making 'sure' the damn thing looks even. Bit nasty when you are a perfectionist.
13. Start hanging the baubles.
14. The Git wanders down (he should be in bed). 'That looks soooo...good Ma'. Can I join in - its 11.30pm. 'No bugger off'!
15. Got the Tree up - all new - all scary but I did it.

PART THREE

16. Turn all lights off.
17. Feck...I did a good job, don't really like the LED lights though.
18. Looking forward to tomorrow as The Git and I are going to make a few gold Skate Boards to  hang on the tree.
19., Note to self - do not ever, ever loose your Christmas decorations. I miss all the ones that mean a lot to me, including, Sian, James and Josh's contributions. The little gorgeous ones that they made in Primary School.
20. Sigh with relief and have a flipping glass of the pink!

Na Nite

Namaste

Muse x

Under My Duvet

At last! I am back on line after a long argument with those bastards of Sky TV aka slowest broadband and crappiest phone service in the world. I have to say though that I cracked first and caved in as I could no longer stand talking to myself.

Honestly,  I have spent nearly four weeks muttering to myself under the Duvet. I had no outlet you see and there are only so many conversations you can have with a 12 year old. It isn't that I am 'Johnny No Mates', merely that in this busy world you rarely get the chance to have a totally random conversation. The other night I was so bored that I was laying in bed (under the duvet) with The Gits ipod stuck in my ears singing quietly, or so I thought, to Ellen Miller, this was after scrolling through loads of Michael Jackson stuff. It was about 2 am and I had left it too late to take a sleeping pill. I opened my eyes to find a very cross 12 year old at the the foot of my bed. 'Give up the ipod now' he growled, holding out his hand. 'Now for gods sake go to sleep and don't ever sing again, even it is just to yourself'. With that he stomped back off to bed. Oops, bad mummy!

I thought I was going quite mad. Talking to myself, answering myself and even debating with myself. It struck me how much Blogging had become part of my daily life. Even if I don't post, I usually draft something. There again, I hear you ask, isn't Blogging the worst form of vanity publishing? Isn't it just for nutters who just can't shut up? The answer my friends is an emphatic NO! If I am honest, I had thought about axing Donut Child before my accidental break. I felt it was too nice, too preachy and some of the early posts gave me so much angst, I nearly gave up entirely.  I sit here tonight, proud of my achievement and happy that I persevered.

If you are programmed with an English rather than a Math brain then you should Blog. It is cathartic, soothing, amazing and gives so much satisfaction for no cost. You don't have to publish it, you can keep it locked and private. As for reading it back, then that really is the fun part. I don't mean recent posts, I mean something that you wrote a year ago. Satisfyingly, we now have a little thing called the World Wide Web which means....ha! ha !!!, you can SHARE!  Reading personal Blogs is a bit like watching Coronation Street, you can always change the channel if you don't like it.  Every single person that comments on this Blog, be it via FB or email, likes it and enjoys the theme. I had not realised this until this month, so thank you to all of you that have contacted me asking 'Where is Donut Child?'

Anyway as well as having a rant at the great god SKY, I want to talk about those Facebook Posts that you are supposed to 'Copy and Past' to your status. Some of then are okay but others just stink. They are the modern day equivalent of the 'chain letter' and I hate the insidious little blighters. Are we all Sheep?? If your mate jumped off a cliff into shark infested custard, would you? Facebook was created for people air their opinions, not for people to  wander around repeating stuff like the Moonies.  If someone posts an opinion then react to it , in your own words, don't just paste it. Are you a brainless moron? Can you think for yourself? Doesn't look like it to me. The ones that really get my back up are those of the 'Do you have the guts to paste this on your status' ilk.

I got into a bit of a row on FB (via my phone) last week and it taught me a lesson. Assume nothing, expect the unexpected. An acquaintance posted a Copy and Paste on his wall about the lack of funds for the British Serviceman. This is a subject I am passionate about and have long campaigned for better kit for our Forces but HIS friends did not know that. I said that I had my own views on the subject and wasn't interested in being a sheep. I was verbally attacked by three ex forces guys. One of whom went into a racist rant about Terrorists in the UK. I could not leave it there. Some of the stuff he said was so shocking. When I tried to explain that bigoted remarks wasn't the best way to go about tackling terrorism he went into orbit and I honestly thought he was going to track me down, put me up against a wall and shoot me. I had the last word though, when I asked him if he knew quite how small the Human Gene Pool actually was and his 10 times removed great granddaddy was probably a Persian Goat Herder! He didn't like that one bit and limped off to lick his wounds....

I guess what I am ranting about is the power of words. Post your own thoughts. encourage debate and however passionate/misguided/safe/liberal/stupid or thoughtful your views are, they deserve to be heard. So stop bleating and banish those bloody awful copy and paste, 'Cop Outs'.!

Namaste

Muse xx

A Bit of a Nuts Day!

I was woken at 4 am this morning by The Git. He was in pain with his tooth. I had to take him to the Emergency Dentist last month. He has to have one little filling. I am a Dental phobic. I have had too many bad experiences with Forces Dentists. Enough about me. Fortuitously we had an appointment for Joshys first filling today. I did manage to be a good Mother and got him to the Dental surgery.   I did not mention the fact that I had fainted at the last appointment. He was rather polite and did not mention it, also. He was quite relaxed, got into the chair and was fine with a really lovely Irish Girl....until she started the drill!

Let us go back a bit shall we. I met a Trainee Dentist when I was about 17. His name was Heppleston.  He hung around with our Rowing/Waterski-ing/Running crowd and was frankly, completely Bonkers! His Ma ran a B and B in Scarborough and he would entertain us after drinking too many beers at The Cask by taking us back to his Ma's in Scarborough. His Ma had an enormous ( for the front room) Organ. Yeah, okay, do all the jokes you want. Seriously there was this massive Organ in his Ma's front room and he would play Led Zep on it!  He was jailed in 2006 for four years for a £450,000 fraud. 

I always remembered 'Hep ' and shuddered, hoping that he would never, ever work on my teeth. He was training in London, committed to his cause and utterly mad. Onto my work as a care worker, some 25 years later. I encountered a 'Flying Dentist'. I met him a few times on my rounds in Plymouth. He was gregarious, flirty and suggested to me at one point that I would 'pay him in kind'....eeuugghh! Paul Carlin, defrauded the NHS of £100, 000.  He may have upset me but he was wonderful with the elderly. I do remember how gentle you were Paul, despite your love for money.

Back to the surgery. Waiting in that room. Trying to keep Joshy calm. Him, smelling the smells and listening to the sounds. The smells and sounds always upset me but I managed to calm him and got him into the room where a lovely Irish Girl was speaking to me. Erm....seems that I was so upset and concentrating on The Git that I could not manage to hear ANYTHING!  Yep that's right...Miss Geraldine Kehoe had to deal with me dribbling and pretty bloody bonkers.  I had temporarily lost my power of speech and hearing!

I managed to hold on to reality for a moment and her words made sense at last. It was rather like finding a voice through a fog. Her lovely Dental Nurse was a Star. We managed to get Joshy on the chair,  but that was all. He was so badly stressed, poor little man. Josh is going to be referred to a specialist clinic as he has ADHD, ODD and is Autistic. I  have to say that he was a very brave boy today though!  We managed to stumble down the stairs. There were four people coming up. None of them nodded or said thank you. They all had a terrible look of fear in their eyes.

Going downstairs, we were pretty raw. A very young girl said. 'Stop, do you need to sign any forms'! After the gentle care we had experienced in the surgery, I asked her to say 'PLEASE'. Another, more experienced Receptionist, managed to communicate with me. 

Why? in this world of technology do we still have to go through so much? I suppose it a bit like asking 'Why Do Women Go Through Childbirth? Can we trust our Dentist. It really is a big thing to trust him or her. Can he/she understand how hard it us for us?  I guess I'll find out soon.

Nite All

Muse xx
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The Power of Words

Words are such powerful things, even when we are little and not quite sure how to use them.  All of my children and siblings have used words to express themselves. They are not the words we would use but far superior and more amusing. All of them used these words in innocence.

My little sis Jax, now a school nurse in Australia, called me 'Netty' when she was a baby as she could not say my name. To this day it sticks and my granddaughter Angelina calls me Netty. Her words were indeed powerful things, even at her young age.  At school, a boy called Paul Brewer would call me 'toilet' and make me feel so small and ashamed as 'Netty' is Geordie slang for 'Toilet'.

Enough! Onto the funnier ones. My son Joshua was born 11 years apart from his siblings. He could not say Sian and to this day my lovely Sian is 'Nin', which is all he could manage at the time. 'Nin' only comes out when he is telling her in a roundabout way that he loves her.

When Josh was little we lived in a seaside town and the local Seagulls were ferocious. As a toddler he would hang on to his ice-cream for dear life  and tell us all that that the 'Ski- Gulls' would try and bite it!  Josh also loved something called an Armerica. We spent ages at the toy shop with him, trying to find out what it was, then it finally dawned on us that it was a Harmonica!  Sian and James spent a lot of time on Ascension Island with my parents and when Sian (now 25) was a toddler she would ask her Bampy to collect some 'Shallows' with her - shells in our language, but a wonderful description don't you think!

James (now 22)  had a few of his own. When he was little we would plant a garden together and I would name the flowers he was growing. He decided that Marigolds were Garimolds, which is what they are to this day. I still grow them for him. A recent one of James' was hilarious, forgive me son, I know it was just a slip of the tongue...but it was wonderful. My mum is a member of the Mormon church and I was talking to James about it last year. 'Yeah' said he ' The Moomins.........' That was me howling with laughter and having to dash to the loo! Think about it..Mama Moomin, Papa Moomin and each and every episode a parable of faith and good deeds. I  have to say that he hit the nail on the head with that one.

Josh came up with a new one last week, even at the age of 12.  He said how great the 'Stun Glasses'  his sister had given him were.  Again, what  a brilliant description. Think Aviator Specs/ Tom Cruise (shudder) /being cool....hence Stun Glasses!

So here I am thinking about the words we use in society today. There were no labels or words to describe people when I was at school. No Gay/ Disabled /ADHD /Autistic /Transvestite /Black /White /Yellow.  Ad Infinitum.

Words remain powerful but perhaps we have let them become too intrusive in our lives? Think about it.

Namaste


Muse x

1970 to 1980 Donut Kids / KRS Reunion. London 09/10/10

I have finally recovered from the Donut Child Reunion. The 1970 to 1980 Donut kids got together in London on Saturday courtesy of Mr Tim 'Cricket Jumper' Grace. What an effort he made. His thoughtfulness and PPPPPPP was pretty impressive. If you don't get the 7 P's then you have no business on this Blog! The venue was great, a sports bar, with lots of space, high ceilings and for us ladies that blush a little more often than usual, double doors wide open! Tim had also made an amazing  DVD which played photos of us 'then and now'. He provided food, a Disco and also lots of memories, things like a 'Horseshoe Hike Card' for us, scattered amongst the tables. A large Flag of Cyprus, completed the look. Well done Philio Moo!

Tim and Michelle had also (heroically) offered to put me up. I arrived after a 5 and a half hour coach journey. My seat was behind The Nutter...why do I always tangle with the Special People of this world? He had an Eden Project baseball cap on his head, a large pair of very expensive cans clamped on his ears and was singing along loudly, and very happily to his 'toons'. Bless! About 5 hours in, I was a bad impatient Muse and kicked the back of his seat...bad girl!  Tim picked me up at Heathrow and the London Smog hit me like a wall as I disembarked. Nothing like the smell of London for a Country Mouse like me.

I was supposed to go for a power nap but was too busy catching up with Tim and Michelle whilst they  cooked and put together all the food. I was Chief Taster, which is just as well as I did not eat that evening. I was a little nervous before we went out so Tim poured me a large glass of wine. Tim was doing a good job at holding down his nerves as he was stressing about the numbers and Michelle was busy teasing him!

He need not have worried as 27 of us turned up. The food was great, the venue wonderful but despite me trying to chat up the DJ he didn't know his 60's from his 80's! Never mind he was soon set upon by various ladies and played all our requests.

I know you are probably tired of hearing this but it was as though all the years had fallen away. 32 for me and 40 for others. All of us, like minded people, in the same room having a wonderful time. It was a blast and I would not have missed it for the world. The Donut Kids were together again but only six of us (I think) had made the first one in Manchesta' last year. Me, Maggie, Marie, Jackie, Caroline and Jo.

I went to the reunion, thinking I would only meet the other five but was bloody delighted when I found so many others. Clare, Ken, Jackie, Elza and more.  Elza and I actually met on Ascension Island about 13 years ago and it was fantastic to see her again.  I could see someone talking to my best friend Marie and went over to find my class mate Clare Tellis....oh, oh, oh - it was a wonderful moment in time. She looked just the same.  The only one I got confused with was Ken Kirkham...he looked so young. He has obviously a) led a quiet life or b) been at the Botox! Please tell us your secret Ken!

The ladies started groovin' to a few toons and Jo Bluck shall be named the best and most prolific dancer!  I managed about five grooves but had to sit and manage the breathlessness due to stupid anaemia.  The photo call was done...I hate having my pic taken and sidled up to Tim asking him to join the melee and give me his camera. Just a note to this, I have been camera shy all of my life and Tim managed to find a great pic of me at sweet 16 - probably the only one, well done Tim, for your detective work! Kath Farrington was a prolific photographer at KRS and I even managed to duck her shots!

We had two 'clubs' going on outside. The first was 'The Smokers Club' and the second was 'The Ladies Who Blush Club'. There were a few of us ladies cooling off to the latter out there. Thank god I am not alone in that! I was, of course a member of both.

Time was so short and I am sure I did not manage to talk to everyone but I did try. We needed at least another 24 hours! All of us have been successful and are like minded. There is nothing like a Donut Child to remind you that we HAD IT ALL, used it all and became determined, untouchable and are still resolute in our lives. We have this determination because we were so challenged as kids, moving around all the time and managing to deal with that, despite being children.

It was sad to say to goodbye to everyone but a few of us piled back to Tim's place and 'mixed our drinks'. So we managed to have a couple more hours together. A tipsy end to a fabulous evening. Thanks to Tim and Michelle for organizing this. Thank you for giving me a bed and for your hospitality.

Thank you to all the KRS/Donut Kids that attended. I think the best comment of the night was when one of the coolest boys at school, Ken, admitted he read my Blog! 

Rock on you Donut Kids

It was a Wonderful moment in time.

Muse x

Cornwalls Bermuda Triangle

Forgive my whiny Blog of yesterday. Sense of humour has been just about restored and  I am feeling a bit more like my usual self.   I took The Git to the Doc's today as he is suffering from that well known malady...skivitis! Poor little man is having a bit of a hard time of it at school at the moment and would prefer to stay home with his mum. Bless his heart, at least somebody loves me!

I drove him over to Ma and Pa's new pad to cheer him up. It is the first time I have driven there direct from Bodmin. I never ever get lost (just temporarily misplaced) I can read a compass and a map and what's more I CAN stop and ask for directions. They  live 13 miles from me and I was confident I knew exactly where the place was even though it in was deepest Cornwall. I had to stop the car at one point as I had a brake failure. First time it has ever happened to me and believe me I have driven some bangers in my time. One of my first cars was a little white Triumph Herald who I named Nancy Astor. The drivers seat wasn't actually attached to the floor and you had to hang on the the steering wheel for dear life every time you went up as steep hill for fear that you might end up in the back seat. Ah...those were the days!  A friend of mine pulls no punches when naming his cars. 'Effin', 'Shite' and 'That Honda Bastard' are a few examples of the imaginative names he has chosen!

As the brakes failed, I pulled into a car park, drove around it for a bit and satisfied the brakes were working again, nervously pulled out onto the road. I say nervously as there is usually nothing nervous about my driving. I am White Van Man in disguise and all three of my kids have learned very bad swear words in four different languages whilst sitting on my back seat. ( I am a terrible mother!) I must have missed the turning as I was concentrating on managing to stop the damn car if I needed to. 'Its all right Mum' said The Git 'You can always do a handbrake turn if you need to.' 'I would do' I replied ' if the fecking handbrake worked!'

So the evidence for there being a Bermuda Triangle in Cornwall does exist. Major systems failure, hazy sunshine, and no idea where the feck you are. I glanced at my mileage counter. The 13 miles had turned into thirty and it took me another half an hour to find the place. Failing that I was stuck in a wormhole and a victim of the space time continuum ??? I was completely and utterly lost, no sense of time, direction or mileage! Very strange indeed. I drove back okay - 13 miles, no problem at all. I think next time I visit the folks I had better take a full survival kit, manual and a weeks worth of water!

I am really looking forward to the weekend as I am attending a Donut Child reunion in London. Luckily one of the other Donut kids is meeting me off the coach so I shouldn't get too lost!

Take Care - Its a Jungle out there!

Namaste

Muse x

Menopausal Madness!

I am just recovering from a busy weekend with my lovely parents and meeting some old friends.  Jo is my Mums Best Friend in the Whole World. She held me as a baby and continued to love me well into my Forties. David (Jo's Son) and I continue to be friends and our "Ma's" met for the first time in 24 years last year. It was an emotional event but Jo is just one of those people that you can spend 20 years away from and just pick up and chat to as though you both met each other yesterday. Jo is someone that is, and always has been in my heart. I adore her.

This time her hubby of 25 years came with her so it was a totally different scenario. Jo and Stuart (the hubby) were staying at a  lovely Hotel on Porth Beach (gorgeous place, quite close to nasty Newquay). Stuart is a big intelligent bloke and meeting him for the first time was fun. I drove the folks to their Hotel on Friday afternoon. We all had a cup of coffee together. Seeing Mum and Jo together was fantastic. I will post the beautiful picture I took of them that afternoon.

I have to go back a bit. Ma and Pa have just moved into a really beautiful Lodge not far from Newquay. It is absolutely gorgeous but right on the railway  line. Only five little 2 carriage trains come through a day.  I drove out to see them and  then drove them to Newquay.  We had a great afternoon with Jo and Stuart and were invited to dinner at The Mermaid Inn at Porth with them. It was a fun family place. Great beer and Stuart thought I was terrible for drinking a pint of beer. Tough mate, I love my beer. Jo got into the spirit and was matching my beer with a wonderful apple cider. Josh was a bit tired and  hungry but fairly well behaved. We all had a brilliant night until Stuart came outside and told me off for smoking. Jo knows that I do not pull any punches on my Blog. I think I had managed to smoke the grand total of 6 cigarettes that day. I felt quite irritated but chose to ignore him.

Saturday morning - I managed to make it out of bed by 10am as I knew that I had to cook a full vegetarian Meze for Jo and Stuart. Ma and Pa went over to Truro to pick up Angelina, my granddaughter. Angel and Josh got back and were absolutely bloody hyper. I managed to cook  despite the dreadful noise. Ma just sat there, sewing a table cloth and being patient. I was utterly maddened by the noise. Josh was fantastic with Angel and I was bloody grumpy! I finally realise why my mother was so great with five kids as she is deaf in one ear!

I prepped, got everything organized, bossed everyone about and was having a mini nervous breakdown just before Jo and Stuart were due to arrive. My mother commented that I should have a bloody drink and relax! At this point I was soaking wet. Hair, T-shirt (changed twice) trousers and eye make up sliding down my face. Ma put a gentle hand on me and made me calm down. She poured me a glass of wine and told me to "have a bloody drink and get over yourself".  My mother is anti - drink  so  I must have been bad!

I am not used to this. Yes I do manage to panic when Dinner Guests are due but this is an unknown to me. I am fed up with soaking wet hair, soaking wet T Shirt and trying to entertain Dinner Guests when cooking with my eye make up sliding down my face! I am not ready for this, I am too young!

Ma and Jo understand and were very sympathetic. I was angry with myself and curious as to what they went through? My lovely  Jo went through this at 29 and Ma did not as she had a serious medical condition and was put on HRT at 40. Both of them were so lovely to me.

I am fed up. This was supposed to be funny but I suppose night sweats should not have happened for a while


Yours

  Avery Irritated and Frustrated Muse xx

For The Donut Kids Attending The Reunion.

Imagine what my life has been. Imagine how special, sparkly and fantastic it is to grow up as a Donut Child. I write this a couple of weeks before the 1970-80 reunion. We were so bloody lucky. We attended and 'pretended' at school. We sat the London University Board of exams. Note to you all GCSE'rs out there we had it tough. Your exam board was EEEASY! Yeah! so tough that I sat all of my O'levels with dripping wet hair as I managed to arrive 5 minutes late for every exam, fresh from the Water Ski Club that I had opened at 4.30 am. It wasn't  always an early start for me as a couple of nights a week I had been wandering around CESSAC, Larnaca and occasionally the George Club until I had to open the Ski Club. Decent memories of waiting for the shift bus at 4.30 am, talking to Ken R, carving out initials into the bus stop, wondering if it would turn up and being joined by a couple of the saddle club lot - smelly people!

We had the most fantastic teachers, the only one I can remember being up her own arse was Miss Smith, Domestic Science Teacher. The rest were pretty cool. I think they enjoyed the environment as much as we did. We had Keith Thomas as Headmaster, he was terrific and having married one of his own sixth formers in his previous life was able to understand us. The best bloke was Ron Norster - he kept a few 'Knuckle Dusters' in his desk drawer and when he disciplined the Boys he would deliberately open his desk drawer and watch their faces pale! He was always wonderful with me but I do remember he used to drive a big white Volvo...very badly. Ron loved his brakes! Max Brown....oh I was so in love with Max! Dave Abraham's, one of the most forward thinking teachers of his time - I was just too young to realise this. Pete Corr, brilliant musician, great bloke who got me through my O Level Art and part of The Corrs Dynasty (not a lot of you know that!) The list goes on.

How many pupils did we have to a class- I think the max was about 15. My little boy, who cannot bear to be in a classroom with 38 kids would love this environment. All he does is watch the outside world and wish he was there, running free, as we did.....

I lived in Belmont Village. One of the best things about living in Belmont was the bedrooms were very low to the ground and the kitchens had lots of slatted windows that you could break into. This meant that we could jump out of our bedroom windows when the parents had gone off to bed. I had a bit of an obstruction in the guise of a 'bugger off' large Cactus Spiky thing. The Cactus did not scare me, just the resident within it. A very large grass snake that I nicknamed Charly. Unfortunately Charly would stick his head out just as I had put my lip gloss on and was lowering myself from the bedroom window to go out for the night!  He scared the shit out of me, but despite his size he was harmless!

Lots of great times at BFBS - Wireless for the Blind, Marc Tyley, Simon Guettier, Charly Lowndes, Alan Grace . They were young men doing their job but putting up with all of us Donut Kids that wanted to be Radio Stars!

I am going to post this Blog on most of the Donut Kids' pages. Please tell me your memories, even if you are not attending the reunion.

Namaste

Lynette xx

This One is Only For The Girls. - Be Warned Guys!

Apologies for my last ' I am feeling so sorry for myself ' post. I got hold of it, bit it's head off and decided that life was meant for living, not moaning. Get over it love!  I have had a pretty full on day. Note to all - not moaning about it, just telling you how it went.

I went to the Doc's today as  I have been feeling decidedly odd and have been having some mad night sweats and bonkers dreams. All these dreams are about horrible crying babies. They all look like Winston Churchill, are sick a lot, scream blue murder and make me shudder. I try my best to look after them but when I cannot soothe them,  I look for an escape route! One of them is jumping on Water Ski's and skiing away! Hurrah!

Last week, I posted that I was desperate for sleep but the dreams have caused such a ripple, that whilst I am a poor sleeper, I have been waking up at odd hours, kicking off sweat soaked sheets...eeww and gasping for breath. Six dreams of six babies now. I told my long suffering Doc about this, along with other symptoms which are unmentionable on this Blog due to certain Male readers, and he gently explained to me that I was perhaps going through 'The Change'.

Why do we call it the change? Why don't we call it 'The Freedom'. This is where the argument actually falls down. Lets look at the evidence :-

1. Start to menstruate at anything between 11 and 15. Deal with embarrassing conversations with your Ma, struggle to put her 'top tips' into action.

2. Skive PE (or Phys Ed as it is now known) as often as possible as you are having your 'monthly'.

3. Grow up and when you feel able to, tackle the local GP and go on the pill. It makes you feel like an adult, even if you do not quite know what the 'S' word means yet.

4. Enjoy six months of erratic periods, acne, moods swings and bloating, compliments of the pill.

5. Meet someone wonderful, marry him. Enjoy your life together. Keep taking the pill and the moment you are posted abroad, get pregnant accidentally!

6. Have Number One Baby. Have hideous time with periods (I never understood that word as in America it means 'full stop')  and finally cave in and go on the mini pill.

7. Get pregnant with Number Two Baby - completely unplanned as the mini pill is commonly known in Medical circles as 'shite'!

8. Have completely unplanned Post Natal Depression and see your GP. He prescribes Anti- Depressants and...yeah you guessed it - The Pill!

9. Spend years avoiding sex as you are scared of getting preggers again.

(Pause here to say how wonderful your Babies are despite all your hormonal problems).

10. Divorce due to lack of sex/ him being married to his career.

11. Meet new man on Tropical Island. Come off Pill and spend a frustrating year trying to get Preggers!  Looking at every woman with pram/car seat/ designer baby in tow!

12. Get Pregnant! Hurrah! Have such a crap birth that you cannot go near a man again. Work it out between you both and survive.

13 Decide on three monthly 'stinger' injections to ensure you never have to give Birth again. Stinger jabs are Bliss! No Periods, No PMT and freedom for 10 years!

14. Finally enjoy and delight in your sex life.

15. Have wonderful, lovely, well meaning, good looking, sympathetic and trusted GP explain to you in his best bedside manner that you are possibly going through 'The Change'.

16. Think of what this means.................

Punch His Fucking Lights Out!

Can't say Namaste as I have been far too bad tonight!

Muse x

Musings.....

I have just got off the phone to an old friend. He is older than me and his take on life is much more positive than mine. I am in a negative place at the moment, barely sleeping, thinking too much and feeling rather bloody sorry for myself. He had me in fits of laughter about my woes...why? because he is in a great place at the moment and leads by example.

We were talking about kids climbing trees. At the age of 9 I could skin up a tree like a monkey, I would lead all of my siblings up an 80 ft tree to their death...or at least very nearly.  I would shout at them and make them climb until they were so scared I would have to go up and rescue them.

In adult life, my siblings have become fearless and the older I get, the more fearful I am of life.  I am bemused by this but understand my problem. It is my arm that stops me, also anaemia. It does not mean that I want to hide away. I have become nervous in my old age. Too bloody fearful. It is time I pulled myself out of my comfort zone, the trouble is I don't know how?

How do you rehabilitate a Donut Child? My love of life, danger, being impossible and never growing up is legendary.  I do not want to give in to fluffy slippers, hot flushes and reading the local paper. Nooooo! I need to break free, I want to break free.

I am soon to be 47 and whilst my age is not an issue, my body clock tells me it is.  Sorry about the moan but I am fed up with the arm. I cannot move furniture/clean windows/ get under something when you lose a coin.  I am so frustrated with the house and people that 'CAN'. I hate you all. Your smugness depresses me.

All I can seem to do now is talk to old friends, soothe them about their worries, talk to them honestly and make them believe in themselves.   I hope that I am doing something useful as I feel pretty useless at the moment.

Yours

Donut Child x

Penfold, Robothespians and Mobiles.

I had a phone call from Penfold yesterday. He was at Stanstead, awaiting his flight to Corsica, where he will Hike for 15 days on a walking holiday. Frankly, I would rather sacrifice my Pink heels and Pink handbag to my neighbours slavering dog!  The weird thing about this phone call was that he called me on his mobile from the airport.  Why is this weird, I hear you say? Because Penfold refuses to use a mobile - that's why!  He hates mobiles and has the most unbelievably uncool mobile I have ever seen in my life. Not that it bothers me - each to their own etc... I listen to Van Morrison - tough - doesn't make me a social pariah.

I suppose what shocked me was his acceptance (at last) of Mobile technology. He is not a technophobe, far from it. He probably knows more about computers than you and I have forgotten. He is an IT Consultant and teaches a lot of people to be patient and understanding of Computers. I have grown up with the 'Pute, have driven most of them but have a large distrust of the 'inanimate object' that has become the daily focus of our lives.

I am superstitious about the damn thing. I clean it, talk to it and shout very bad words at it. The last thing I did this to was the large Office Photocopier that was the bane of my life when I was trying to get a massively important report out for my Boss. Yes -  I did  have a past life as an American Corporate PA - about the most back stabbing environment you could wish to be in. So this toughie still manages to treat a machine as though it was a human being.

I saw a news report this week about a Robot, engineered by a small Cornish company called  Engineered Arts, based in Penryn. The Robot is called a Robothespian and will welcome visitors to The Kennedy Space Centre this Autumn. The Robothespian is 5ft 9. Imagine arguing with that, she says being at least 5ft 4!

I suppose that we all have out moments with 'things technical' but our lives are changing, the goal posts are moving and we are accepting it at a fast moving pace. I was reading through some of my early Donut Child posts tonight. Just a trawl through memory lane, when Donut Child was  just a quiet thing, only being read by about 6 people a day. Donut Child has become quite the monster and every post I write puts me under more pressure. I am grateful but bewildered by its following.  The point I am trying (badly) to make is how the Internet has crept upon us all. Silently, stealthily and we embrace it like a long lost friend.

Are we all so lonely that we are unable to communicate with each other?  I think the Internet is secondary to the Mobile Phone. The Mobile gave us such a sense of freedom that we now eagerly accept technology and do not question it. I have a read a few articles about Facebook this week. Most of them, talking about privacy.  HELLO, if you post your details on Facebook or other Social Networking sites then you do so, voluntarily. There is no 'Great God' Internet that impels you to do this.

The other article I read was a bit more honest. The 'She Bitch' AKA Amanda Platell (Daily Mail columnist) was at least  up front about Social Networking sites. I never thought in a million years I would be quoting her but at least she tackled the subject head on.  If you want to play with  Facebook/Twitter/ My Space, then on your head be it. If you want to post your most intimate information/bank details/personal measurements then YOU are responsible. Social Networking sites are not!

I have travelled a bit this summer and what struck me was that whilst we were all in the same situation...IE, stuck on a hot, slow train/coach/boat.. no-one spoke to each other. We were all too busy texting, catching up with FB and talking on our Mobiles. This does not happen in Europe. In Spain., everyone says Hola to each other. Doesn't matter if you are getting out of a lift or walking along the beach. There is a different attitude. Old customs persist.

 Perhaps Penfold is not such a stick in the mud. Maybe he understands a lot more than we do. Think about it....

Namaste

Muse x

God, This Parenting Stuff is Hard!

It has been a bit of a stressful week in the Muse household. I think lack of sleep is probably at the root of it. Sleep deprivation also leads to foot stamping, general grumpiness and aversion to parental responsibility! I have been waking up in a cold sweat for the last five nights between four and five in the morning. What has woken me up ? Very detailed dreams of me attempting to look after loads of crying, sickly, horrible babies! Shudder. I am so happy all of that is behind me!

The Git has had a bit of tricky week at school where most of the staff and pupils are equally tetchy at  the thought of at least five more weeks in the classroom before the 'Holiday Fairy' shows it's face again.. He has been pulled twice on uniform and once for mucking about and being the class clown, as usual.  He was removed from his class and put into another one where the female teacher...lets call her The Mormo , snarled at him, that if he so much as moved a muscle she would rip up his work and he would have to start again. He obviously twitched on two occasions (honest mum...I never moved...yeah alright mate, if you say so...) as she carried out her threat on both! Now, far be from me to play the 'over protective' mother card but my patience was finally worn out when The Mormo had to leave the room, and announced to her year 10 class (The Git is year 9) that if he breathed, THEY had her permission to rip up his work.

It amazes me that such a Negative, PMS Ridden, Child Scarer is actually deemed fit to teach our children! If The Mormo is like this at the start of  term, imagine how scary she is at the end of term. Here we go again. Ho...hum. Back on the bloody treadmill. Write in his planner, send indignant letter, have meeting with Deputy Head. Wait for outcome of investigation and threaten The Mormo with the Governors. In the meantime, my reputation disintegrates into ''over protective mother who still breastfeeds her 12 year old'.  Over protective my arse! because  I also have a 25 year old and a 22 year old. who are well rounded, independent individuals.

I have no wish to tar everyone with the same brush. A dear friend of mine is a Housemaster at a Boys College in Oxford. He cannot wait to get back to school after the Hols and find out what his young charges have been up to. The Gits school is  a State run Monolith, which services one of the poorest areas in the country. It has too many pupils and a handful of frustrated, exhausted,  teachers, whose left hand has no bloody idea what the right is doing! Frankly I have better things to waste my time on. Why can't we see a more constructive, confident  way of disciplining our children? I cannot believe I have another 6 years of this situation to deal with. Children respond to positive mental attitudes and are at their happiest when they are encouraged and nurtured in an forward thinking, optimistic environment. If discipline is needed then teaching our children that actions have consequences is the only way to go.

Oh bugger, I have gone all preachy on you but The Git is really struggling and after his glorious summer of Music, Filming, Skate Boarding and Barging It, he is having a hard time. All of the confidence he built up over the summer is already being eroded.

Maybe I am out of touch but my school days were halcyon days of sunshine and fantastic teachers. Ah...but then I am a Donut Child and, it seems, impossibly privileged.

Thanks for listening.

Namaste

Muse x

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DONUT CHILD !

I usually write this Blog in the wee small hours when I cannot sleep.  The myriad of friends across the world, that read it may be getting home from work or waking to face their day. Donut Child is One Year Old today and I have managed to write the paltry sum of 100 Blogs. Until I went over it tonight, I did not realise how few I have written.  I suppose that works out at about a bit of a Blog every 3 days. I am not good at Math!

When I think of myself this time last year, I am amazed I managed to type, never mind deal with the 'Pute!  I had a new elbow, it was about 5 months old and I was in a hell of a lot of pain. I had just got back from an excellent school reunion - we had not met one another for 30 odd years. I was buoyed up and delighted with life. I could not write with my hand (casualty of elbow) so decided to share some of my life on Donut Child. It has been a real 'Baptism of Fire'. Apologies for the cliche but having kept a Journal for most of my Adult life,  it was very difficult to share with you. Writing in a Journal is a completely different thing and I have tried to keep some decorum within Donut Child but it would have been easier if I could have shared all. I could not do this as most of my family were 'tuning' in to every episode. My father still cringes at the Title but then he is old school and Donut Children are prolific in this day and age. We are no longer the 'best kept secret' in the UK. Just as well I decided not to discuss National Security on this she says!

Enough of my angst. I have delighted in, and appreciated writing Donut Child. I am stunned by the amount of readers I get with each Blog. I am now writing on another site, where no-one knows me and find this a lot easier to do. WHY? Because I am able to spill and talk about all of your dreadful habits!  Nope, just joking.
This  has been quite a journey for me. I have dated 17 younger men - not recommended!  Met loads of old and precious friends (hey! less of the old), been on a Barge with lots of lovely  musicians, seen my last baby start to grow up and found some confidence within myself.

As for me now? I am very happy within myself.  The housing situation does not get any better, so if any of you readers want to buy me a home then I would be very grateful!!! Apart from that, The Git and I go through the  motions and deal with life. He has a tougher time of it than me but after his Summer of  Sunshine and 'Positive Thinking', he is managing to cope with school at the moment.  I am dating a lovely, thoughtful but challenging guy (older than me by the way). I am able to say this as he does not read this Blog. He is far too busy to partake in my meanderings.

I have to do some thank you's now so Bugger Off if you get bored.

My first is to Jo Walker - you encouraged me to start this and I never believed it would work. Thank you for your steadfast loyalty and encouragement. I am so looking forward to seeing you in October x

To Charly Lowndes, who is the only person that comments on this Blog regularly - Thank You Kind Sir x

To My Lovely Kath, even though we are not in touch anymore - you supported me when I needed it.

To John and Marie - May you live as long as you want to and want to as long as you live! x

To My Best Friend Dutch thanks for believing - Love You Man x

To Penfold for being quiet, confident and looking after me and holding my hand when I cross the road!xx

To All the young Musicians that gave Josh his confidence - you know who you are x

To ALL The Donut Children - Helen, Ken, Kev, Kath, Gary, Marie, John, Tim, Michelle, Maria, Mel, Michaela, Tracey, Tricia, Nigel, Jackie, Caroline, Jo and all the rest.

Thanks to all that read this Blog including people that do not know me and my adorable family.

Namaste

Muse x

PS - Just a Couple more!



To Keith Horn for teaching me that idiots do persist and I should make sure that I never meet them again or deal with their long suffering wives.


To Vince for actively encouraging me but finally leaving me alone!

Lovely Hairdressers and Erm....Dentists!

It has been a bit of a mad few days. The Git had a toothache and I had to take him to the Emergency Dentist. This, of course is after two nights of sitting up with the poor little guy. I finally managed to get an appointment with the Emergency Dental Service.  I am a bad Mother and a self confessed Dental Phobic. Joshy used to attend the Dentist with the parents as I could not face it.  I have not been to the Dentist in 20 years.

I, very (shakily) parked at the Dentist and told The Git 'everything would be okay' (Liar!).  I was dreading it but The Git was unreasonably confident and told me not to worry.  I had to fill in some forms but the arm was not very well so The Dental Nurse helped me. Joshy was really relaxed and I was on the point of fainting. I asked him if would like to go in alone. 'Oh No mum, I would like you to come in with me' he said. 'Okay' said I, in a very shaky voice.

We were summoned by The Dental Nurse. By this stage I was ready to collapse but staggered through to the Surgery. Oh Man, do you think that all Dentists ought to be locked up? You really, have to have a strong stomach to be a Dentist, failing that you ought to be receiving the highest form of Mental Health Counselling!

We were greeted by a very pretty girl, who was very relaxed with the Git. She was wonderful with him. He flirted with her (as all 12 year old boys do), and he played with the Chair, and she let him! I was not in a great place at this stage. The Dental Nurse took one look at me and shoved my head between my legs. I was as green as the top I was wearing! Joshy got his temporary filling and  I managed to  stay awake.

We got into the waiting room and I had to sit down for 20 minutes. Josh could not understand why I was in a such a state and I did not let on! The (lovely) Dentist asked us to register with our local Dental Surgery as they were taking on NHS patients. I bravely drove to said Dental Surgery and guess what.....the Receptionist took one look at me and sat me down, whilst shoving my head between my knees. I did not manage to stay awake and fainted, The Git thought this was very funny.  Thank god he does not realise that I faint in fear! We did manage to register after the embarrassing fainting episode.

I told Penfold about the Dentist Debacle, he laughed his head off  but was quite sympathetic. Oh well, that is just me....time for me to pull myself together if my son is being so brave! I will meet Mr Dentist in two weeks. Bets are on for me passing out!

I went to the hairdressers today. I have had 'Candy Floss' hair for the last few months due to my anaemia and the meds I have  been taking. My hair has been driving me mad and I HATE being so precious about it. I have always had a big curly head of hair until a year ago. The hair started to fall out. Three types of anaemia, etc, etc... but with my hair I could usually put some serum on it and get away with thinning hair. Ho...Hum, not recently. I wake in my bed and find my pillow full of hair. Going in the shower has been terrifying as I  have had to deal with great handfuls of hair in my hands.

I have a fantastic Hairdresser, they have tried to look after my hair, welcomed me and always looked after me. My lovely girls are wonderful.  It was time today to get rid of the 'Candy Floss Hair'. All the girls were around me as I had all the 'Floss' cut off by Kerry, the Maestro of the Scissors. I am feeling a little strange but bloody delighted  with her cut.  I may seem brave but to be honest I am  relieved that I have lost 'the Floss'.

The last time I had this hair cut was 20 years ago and I feel GOOD. Thanks to Kerry, Roxy for being there and of course my lovely Arlene.

Namaste

Muse x

Being a Bad Grumpy Muse....and dealing with a GMS

I have broken my record. My record is that during the last school year I have been very polite to Teachers/Headmasters and all those that dwell in the 'Biosphere' that is School. I have bitten my lip. I have been reasonable in the face of adversity and have given all those people whose names begin with a T a long rope. I have not once stamped my foot, I have written letters, dealt with bullying in a calm and quiet manner and even the sarcasm that spills from a frustrated teacher's mouth.  I have been very, very good and was proud of myself until today.

Today was the first day back at school for The Git. He looked very smart, new white shirt, tie, clean trousers but  the shoes were a bit scruffy. The Git has the feet of a Hobbit. We were referred to a foot specialist at The Royal Cornwall Hospital last year to fit him with 'NHS' shoes as I could not find anything in the shops. The Specialist could not fit him and held his hands up, suggesting 'Skate Boarding ' Shoes as by the time the specialist shoe maker made The Git's shoes he would have grown out of them. This problem has long been recorded in his Primary School records, which his College obviously refuse to read! I have always try to stick to black but it is difficult and each time new shoes are called for we spend about a week trying to find them. I usually manage the 'Black' except for some small logo. Compounding the problem is The Git's aversion to the smell of shoes. If they don't smell right then they are dust. Pa took him shopping for his last pair of school shoes and  he ( not The Git)  needed a large Brandy after that trip!

We have been away so much this Summer and it is MY fault that I did not face up to the shoe shopping trip before now. Right! That's my confession done. Josh has been wearing a pair of plain black Skate Shoes for the last TWO terms and they are now tatty and need replacing. He wore them today and I was a little embarrassed, saying to Josh, we would go shopping this weekend.

I picked him up from School, delighted to see him and asked if he had, had a good day? 'Erm.... Mr X  said I should not wear these shoes to school and if you didn't take me shopping for new shoes, he would and you could pay him back! I am not vindictive so will not mention this guy by name but, can I also say that he is a Ginger Midget Shite! - now known as GMS on this Blog. Whoa....I was tired from lack of sleep, grumpy that my hair would not behave and I only had the bare minimum of make up on! On top of that my arm throbbed as I could not take serious painkillers until I got The Git home. Not in a great place then to deal with the GMS.

The poor deluded GMS was on Traffic duty and  I tried to explain, somewhat frostily about the problem with The Git's feet. He was not listening to me and said in his most imperious manner that only 'Black Leather Shoes would do'. Feck!  it was like waving a Red Rag to a Bull.  'Fine'  I snapped ' you already have a Doctors note in his school records, but obviously, being a Sports teacher, you are unable to read'. Oh man, I am such a a bad Muse. I continued...'Tell you what, I'll provide you with ANOTHER one and then I'll pin it to your Rugby shirt in case you don't get the message! By the way' I said ' have you missed having a moan for the last six weeks? - did the wife get upset because you were whinging at her instead of your pupils?'

Oh, oh, oh, I am very very embarrassed by my loss of temper. I asked the GMS why he had offered to take The Git shopping? He then dug himself into a bigger hole by trying to suggest that I was in financial difficulty and so had suggested HE buy the shoes. Fecking little GMS. I think I actually growled at him at that point.

The point of this Blog is to say that I get my son to school 9 times out of 10. He hates school and compared to Robartes, his wonderful  Primary School, which was such a positive force in his life, The College is a huge negative with very tired, jaded teachers who don't give an F! I want my son to be in a positive environment. I am not being precious here but I think he might get on a lot better if certain people gave him an inch of space.

Okay, she says, that's me done now. Sorry folks but there is nowt more cathartic than blogging. Please forgive my dread fullness and obviously you will need to pray for my soul!

Namaste

Muse x

Dream. Dream. Dream.....

I have just kept half an eye on a BBC programme about sleep - lack of it and how to sleep well. I am the worlds worst sleeper. I have tried absolutely everything. Valerian, Night All, Lavender, Hypnosis, Sex, Walking, Exercise, Fresh Air and I cannot sleep. I also tried Alcohol but the consequences the next morning are not worth it!  Apparently the new thing is fasting. If you are on a long haul flight you should fast and this allegedly works. Fasting will be my next experiment. I guess I will have to give up my cream crackers and Imperial Mints!

I think my problem is actually getting to sleep rather than sleep itself. Once I go to sleep, I can sleep for England, the entire World, in fact! My mind will not shut down and I long for sleep to come naturally. When we were on the barge on Folk on The Water, The Dutchman and Penfold amazed me by being able to 'drop off on a washing line' for a 20 minute power nap. At one point Penfold actually lay down in the sun, on a lovely grassy bank, surrounded by 200 odd people and a few live bands and was snoring peacefully when I came to wake him up for Dinner. How did he do that! Similarly The Dutchman was able to snooze for exactly 30 minutes and get up and function! They are ex- Military men, please, please teach me your secret!

I have whacked the arm so have had to take some painkillers and my sleep patterns are all over the place at the moment. For instance, I was up at six this morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Absolutely frustrated that no one was up to talk to me. This was a result of two days of painkillers and one sleeping tablet. I do take them, as rarely as I can, as they are pretty awful and  I would rather not. It seems that I am at odds with the World Time Clock....

At about 11 am I lost my sense of  humour as the arm was bad and I waited with gritted teeth until I could pick  The Git from the train station at about two this afternoon. By the time he had his hair cut, it was about 3.30 when we got home. Note - the Barbers was full of boys pulling similarly dreadful faces as they had their bright pink/blonde/purple and Mohican's cut out for the new school term. The Git nearly broke the mirror with his scowls.(Question - why does their hair colour affect their learning....erm..teacher quote.)  I took the painkillers gratefully and then passed out until six tonight! Poor Git, he had to wait for his tea. Now I cannot take a sleeping pill in case I do not wake for first day at school tomorrow!

I am very tired as I write this and I wonder how I will solve this? Should I ask Penfold to rub my back for a couple of hours until I reach Nirvana? I don't think so . This is my problem not his. The quest for sleep remains elusive. Advice please? What do you do to get some sleep when your busy mind will not shut down. All answers on a Postcard gratefully accepted.

Take Care out there.  I hope most of you are in nod land and having Sweet Dreams.

Namaste

Muse x

Having A Rant !

I had the dubious pleasure of buying a second hand car today. Actually that is an over statement, I set out to buy a banger. I had to get some wheels on the road as Public Transport in Cornwall is almost non existent. Besides which, why should I share my space with people who knock my arm and smell funny! They say an Englishman's Home is his Castle....not in this day and age.. You won't get a Brit out of his car, even if petrol hits the two quid a litre mark.

After searching eBay and looking around locally I could find nothing. 'Right', I said, rolling my sleeves up, 'time to scour the local paper and talk to some spacey people'. I probably phoned about 20 numbers today. These people were not spacey but complete and utter fecking idiots. Nutter is one word I could use. The others that spring to mind are demented, fruitcake or mental defective. WHY do people advertise their cars and then seem reluctant to sell them? WHY do they forget to take them out of the paper when they sold them last week. 

Words fail me... I offered to go to St Ives to look at one car (quite some distance from me) and the lady on the phone seemed happy with that. I phoned back to confirm and her hubby answered. After making me hold on for 5 minutes they had a long discussion and said they had decided to go out for a meal and would I mind phoning back. The car is for sale or its not! Bugger. I have had some real foot stamping moments today.
 
I phoned about another car. 

'Hello I am phoning about the car you have for sale' 
'Oh yes Mi Dear, what do you want to know?'
'Erm is it MOT'd?'
'We sold that...now lets see about 8 days ago....' 

I am speechless. Another guy wanted to chat about his gout or some such terrible thing before he finally told me the car had been sold. A toddler answered the phone and told me his mum couldn't come to the phone. Yep, I have had the lot of them today! After ripping out several handfuls of hair Ma and Pa arrived. Ma tried to calm me down and Pa just resigned himself to driving me 100's of miles to find a car.

I was determined and Pa knew that look from old and just went with the flow.  I was amazed as the last car I looked at, a sensible person with a terrifically broad Lancashire accent answered the phone. I may have only been able to understand about half of the conversation but he actually attempted to sell it to me. Yes! Yes! Yes! Result! Wild horses would not have stopped me as I dragged long suffering Pa to Indian Queens to view the motor.  We do have some strange Cornish place names around here. Endellion is one of them! But Florence Rose is not. Note for American readers of this Blog (yes I do have a few) our PM just called his daughter Florence Rose Endellion as she was born in Cornwall.


I digress. Arriving at the address of man from Lancashire, my heart sank as I realised the car was....a Metro - sigh. I had got so excited about the prospect of wheels, I sort of forgot what the car was. I know I said I would not ever again drive a Metro because of dickey arm but beggars can't be choosers. Anyway, she says defensively, it was cleaner than the Grendel, there were no parking tickets in the glove box and there wasn't an empty Evian bottle in sight! 


This Muse now has wheels but has also had the day from hell. New advertising rules should read. 'Anyone that can't be arsed to sell their car are prohibited from advertising here'. Grumpy girl promises she will be back to her own sweet self tomorrow. 


Namaste


Muse x

Just Sixteen and Dreaming...

My 22 year old son posted these lyrics on Facebook last week : -

I remember when we were just sixteen and dreaming.
Drinking in the basement, just shouting and screaming.
Listen to our favorite records all while thinking,
Some day were gonna be there on stage all singing.
Remember breaking hearts and getting hearts broken?
Lying to our parents on what we were smoking?
Solving all our problems with bottles and women?
Even though we knew were better off without them.

(Trophy Scars - Assistant Assistants.)

Loved them, they brought back a lot of memories.

I have no idea who the band are or how the song goes but he was rolling around laughing as I commented 'So do I son and we did it better, bigger and badder way before you did!'  Most of us Donut Kids are in our late 40's. One or two of us are actually 50. Gulp! Where did the time go? We are still the same people inside, just older, greyer, tinted, wiser and more exhausted.

At 16 we were bright new things and looked upon those even 10 years older than us as positively ancient. We are catching up with them now...oh the shame. We hated the elderly, oh god, they should have been euthanized years ago. We did not think for one moment that we would hurtle toward perms and zimmer frames, slippers and pipes. In fact, myself and two school friends have one functioning limb between us. If I went up to stay with them, I fear Jess, their German Shepherd would voluntarily put herself in kennels, lest she had to look after us!

To my son, I say...  'We will not bow to old age. Age is but a number and we will still be listening to The Stranglers in our 80's'. The lyrics he posted got me thinking as to how our perception of age has changed. When I was a teenager every woman over the age of 35 had a perm and every man over the age of 40 sported a cardie and Jesus sandals with socks. A- line skirts with geometric print and twin sets were popular with the ladies. 'Simon Cowell' under the armpits trousers were De Riguer for the blokes.  I dare not venture north of Cheltenham as the world of flat caps and rollers beckons...not that I am part of the anti roller brigade - Ma loves the things. Quite how you can actually love something that feels as though you have a hundred hedgehogs in you hair is beyond me. But there again, I have done my time at the hairdressers, head bowed under a tonne weight of Aluminium foil!

Our perception, expectation and knowledge of age has been made more profound by Education, Celebrity and the Media. I would like to think that Education is at the forefront of how we embrace our gathering years but, alas it is that old devil called the Media.

Women are expected to stay young and fashionable. Men are becoming more aware and thinking about their image in a way never seen before. Slight problem here. Women naturally age faster than men because the process of childbirth  mature their bodies and faces in a different way to men. Look at a woman that has had a child and compare with a Woman that has not. Trust me, I am right about this. Childbirth changes the very essence of the female.

The modern Media world insists that we remain young. Granted, men are under more pressure than before but never as much as women. The question is, can we stay younger without resorting to plastic surgery, creams etc... my answer is a simple one. It rather depends who you are. If you are so precious about your appearance that you have to run off and get Botox in your early thirties then you will probably get more wrinkles worrying about it!  Yeah I admit to being precious about my hair but only because it is as sick as me and suffering with the anaemia I suffer with.

Celebrity age is a lie - a big fat nasty lie! Look at actresses on the red carpet and then look at them doing the shop at  Sainsbury's. It is easy when you know how. Gut sucking underwear, which leaves hideous marks and take two bouncers to get you out of, creams that make your face so tight you can barely raise an eyebrow and  that little photographic trick called airbrushing! Failing that they (Demi Moore) go under the knife and emerge doll like, a veritable alien to their own minds.

Lets backtrack. Do you age gracefully or follow the celebrities and use various products, botox, face lifts? Again an easy answer. Age is an attitude of mind. Carry yourself well, look after yourself and accept the passing years but do not forget your soul, your brilliant youth and your courage.

Namaste

Muse x

A Letter to The Donut Kids.

Dear Donut Children

I need your help. I have been writing Donut Child for nearly a year now. I started it last September because of letters/emails I had sent to friends. They all said I should write a book, so Donut Child was my first tentative step towards teaching myself the discipline of regular writing.  I am about as disciplined as an elastic band so it has been helpful,  if a little traumatic at times. It is just as well I don't eat all the pies as I would be done for!

I have to be honest, I wanted to be the next Belle De Jour. I wanted to have that book deal, those film rights and to be as successful as J.K Rowling. I tried the 'salacious' bit, regaling (or boring) you all with my dating disasters. The content gave me so many sleepless nights as I wondered how far to go, who to name, who to give an alias to? How many peoples photos could I nick and post without being slapped with a court order? The other angst was sharing on Face book. Up until now I have only posted each Blog once. There are some people on my wall that shamelessly promote anything they can. I was sniffy about this and said to myself,  if they want to read it they will read it.

Then I had a conversation with an Aunt of mine who gleefully told me that she had been reading it to my 90 something Grandmother. Groan.... This plunged me into a further dilemma and I do admit to cleaning up a bit. I tried to shrug off the image of my lovely nan reading it and hope I have been successful.

Donut child has become a bit of a monster. I know that 100-150 people read each Blog. I am so grateful for your interest whoever you are. I had 1500 hits for the Folk on The Water Blogs which completely stunned me so thank you, all of you.

What do I do now? The numbers are steady, but I have NO followers. I am not having a whinge here, just telling you like it is. I need your help. I need your input. Its lonely Blogging into Cyberspace. Also the more followers I have, the more chance I get of being a Google Blog of Note. Which means they share it with the World and you get thousands of hits.

Can you do me a favour ? At the end of each Blog is a FB/Twitter etc bar. If you click on the B (note to all; I am just giving you the idiots guide - apologies), you can sign in and register with Google and become a Named or Anonymous Follower of Donut Child. You can even comment, be it caustically or constructively.

If you can't be arsed to do that ( I do understand as I can't be arsed to do a lot of things on line as they just make me sigh out loud and put head in hands) then perhaps you can share a link occasionally on FB or Twitter or wherever you like to blow your trumpet. If you can do something to help I would be so grateful.

Enough of my shameless begging. Will post another Donut Child soon.

Namaste

Muse x

PS I also write two other Blogs which are not yet shared so the writing is going well. Thanks for your support. x

The Mothership and Mayhem in the Muse household!

The Mothership came to visit for a few days this week, dragging the long suffering Pa with her. The Mothership is one of her nicknames, the other is Hyacinth. Is it old age that causes adored but challenging parents to misbehave or something else? Do they secretly think, 'Ha!  I am getting on so I will cause as much mayhem as possible'. It is a bit like that famous poem, 'Warning' by Jenny Joseph, which I will post on the side bar. One of my favourites by the way.

I hadn't spent a lot of time with them recently so I was looking forward to it. Hyacinth has long been a 'bag lady'. She loves bags. Make up bags, cool bags,  handbags and has a special place in her heart for large suitcases that weigh at least 20 kilos when they are empty! In came the bags and underneath them somewhere, I did spot Pa for a moment but this was a fleeting glimpse as he toiled to offload the car.

Hyacinth is very glamorous and feminine for her age ( this is, obviously the reason for the bags) but is sadly hard of hearing. She endured a terrible operation to remove a mastoid from her left ear when she was a child and has always been profoundly deaf in that ear. The other has worked hard throughout her life and is on its way out too. She has dealt with this in a quiet dignified way and lip reads very well, never ever complaining.

However well behaved Hyacinth is at the start of a visit, things generally deteriorate quite quickly. The TV volume starts low with subtitles and The Archers is listened to only as a special treat. Hyacinth does not understand the modern world and can be often be found trying to turn up the TV volume with Pa's mobile! Hence the creeping up of the TV volume in the lounge, The Archers at full blast in the kitchen and The Proms thundering through the bedroom. We are usually far too polite to comment and take refuge in the garden. A garden is a good place of refuge during these times!

Onto other matters. Why do parents drink so many cups of Tea? Personally, if I had to put the kettle on that many times I would cut out the kettle and just take it intravenously. Reading glasses are a difficult thing and hours are spent searching for them, only to find they have been sat on and are unrecognizable. My theory is that reading glasses are so cheap because they are made to be sat on. I once dated a 40 something guy that bought 10 pairs at once - sensible chap. Must remember that for their next visit. I should be careful of what I say on the subject as I am in limbo with my distance glasses at the moment and they are constantly perched on the end of my nose whilst I squint at the mobile or the newspaper!

I think what troubles me the most is that they think I am still 6 years old. I am constantly reminded to wash my hands, use a napkin, go to the loo before going out and 'don't' use too much salt. The other irritant is bedtime. Why do they think I should got to bed at 10pm. 'Time you were off to bed darling' said Pa last night at 10.30pm.  Bless!

I loved having them to visit, caught up with Ma and Pa was my hero, spending long hours under now defunct washing machine, cutting hedge and fixing my bathroom light. Despite their idiosyncrasies they are mine and I adore them but its nice to have my space back again.

Namaste

Muse x

Short but Sweet

I am playing Clapton tonight and have talked about Spirituality in some recent Blogs. Mine is personal. Yours may be organized but who cares!  This is as close as it gets. Posting these Lyrics tonight. One of the most beautiful songs of all time.

I have finally found a way to live just like I never could before.
I know that I don't have much to give, but I can open any door.
Everybody knows the secret, everybody knows the score.
I have finally found a way to live in the colour of the Lord.

I have finally found a place to live just like I never could before.
And I know I don't have much to give, but soon I'll open any door.
Everybody knows the secret, everybody knows the score.
I have finally found a place to live in the presence of the Lord.
In the presence of the Lord.

I have finally found a way to live just like I never could before.
And I know I don't have much to give, but I can open any door.
Everybody knows the secret, I said everybody knows the score.
I have finally found a way to live in the colour of the Lord.
In the colour of the Lord.


Take Care out There

Namaste

Muse x

The Lost Children

After all the fun of the past few weeks it seems a shame to Blog about the serious things in life but despite being a Blondie about technical matters,  I do have a brain. Recent news reports suggest that Parents who kill their children and then go on to commit suicide are becoming more common. This upsets and depresses me. Before I go on, I must just say that there is NO excuse for the actions of these parents.

I was talking to the Mother ship about it today. Apparently men are more likely to do this because their levels of Testosterone make them more aggressive than women.  There have always been women, suffering with a serious form of  Post-Partum Psychosis who kill their babies. Also infanticide is a common, if terrible, consequence of economic hardship within developing countries. In  rural India and China infanticide is practiced as  a result of sex selection among parents. The illegal use of the ultrasound in China is prolific and Wikipedia quotes there may be as many as 40 million missing baby girls.

Killing your offspring is not uncommon in Western Society either. Infanticide is more common among mothers and filicide among fathers. Statistics for the United States show that it ranked eleventh for infants under 1 year killed, and fourth for those killed from the age of 1 through to 14 years old. The research I have done tonight has both horrified and disgusted me. But the point I am trying to make is that acts of infanticide and filicide have been part of our society since Roman times and probably further back.

What we are seeing in Western society is the murder of several offspring at once. A deliberate and devastating act of punishment for the surviving partner. Revenge gone mad. Are we so far gone as a Western society that we are unable cope with the modern world and just snap? Or is it something much deeper and darker that exists within us? A black insanity that hides within us all?  What is it that is making these awful events more prolific? Is it the abuse of alcohol and drugs ? I think that has a lot to do with it. Alcohol is the most damaging of the two. How many times have you seen aggressive behaviour in a drunk.

We must slow down as a society and take a look at ourselves. I am not a subscriber of that adage that America is the 'Free World'.  Maybe I am just getting old but in my life time I have seen our society degenerate, fragment and explode. Spending years as a care worker, on the the road. I have seen the very dregs of human kind.  I have seen some dreadful, frightened people, crawling back to their very primeval roots. People who have abused themselves or others so badly that they are too far gone to save themselves. I know I keep saying it but we do have a slower life style where I live and we benefit immensely from that.

It is a sad reflection of our fragile society that we have to take the most terrible retribution out on those we once loved? I am so sad and feeling so helpless for those children that have been the innocent victims among the age old war of the sexes. Take a moment. Take a deep breath. Pause for a moment and take some time for yourself. Make sure you never ever get caught in that terrible destructive spiral. Indulge your own spirituality, be it organized or personal and look after others.

Take Care out There

Namaste

Muse x

Pumpkins and Piles of the Smelly Stuff.

Had I realised it was going to be one of those days where life throws seven kinds of shit at you, I wouldn't have bothered getting out of bed. As I have found out by my experiences and those of my friends, if things go wrong they don't just go pear shaped they go pumpkin shaped! I had a lot to do as the Mother Ship is currently on approach and landing tomorrow.

The first disaster came when The Git fell off his bike. Just like his mother, he doesn't do things by halves, he likes to go the whole hog. His already impressive collection of bruises and grazes was added to with one gravel rash thigh, two gravel rash hands and a pulled muscle. His screams had me running from the house, half dressed and desperately searching for the source of the noise. He's okay but I am getting too flipping old to deal with these panics.  My heart was beating so hard, I thought I would pass out. After gaining a lot of sympathy from me, I have now switched tactics and am very unimpressed that I am having to run around after him. Also WHY? as a mother, do you actually relax for a moment and something awful happens to your offspring. Note to self, never ever relax!

I went to Asda and he insisted accompanying me on his crutches. Arrived, found my friend Neil and demanded to know why there were no wheel chairs. Three stolen and two in for repair apparently. Words fail me. Nope I won't rant about disabled rights on this but honestly....

Arriving home with a load of bags, I could not find my key. I had somehow lost it. How stupid is that? I cannot think for the life of me what I did with the bloody thing. Time I got myself a key ring the size of a tennis ball. Mind you, the day I was having I would have been sure to lose it even if it had been attached to the Titanic!

My neighbour Angie came out and gave me a waterproof as I was dressed in some of my most frivolous summer finery. I phoned a locksmith as there were no windows open. I had actually lost a key a few weeks ago and Angie helped me break in whilst sternly lecturing me about the stupidity of leaving a top window open.

Two very helpful members of the opposite sex arrived . I say 'helpful' but it took them and hour and a half to drill out the lock! What is it about the Male of the Species? I have to say that I am a complete blondie about these matters but is it actually that difficult? Ask a man to put together some flat pack furniture and you will understand what I am saying. Is there a man out there that can carry out a repair, stop a leaking loo or even cut a simple hedge without breaking something or peppering the air with curses that would make a sailor blush? Find me one and I'll marry him! This obviously excludes Penfold.

The final insult today was that my washing machine is refusing to spin and I have blown three light bulbs. Ah well...it can only get better. The washing machine can bloody wait until tomorrow!

The Muse household is back to some sort of normality. I have cleaned up the Locksmiths mess, showered and patched up The Git, made a Sweet Potato, Ginger and Butternut Squash Soup for the folks and now I need a bath and a glass of the pink!

I still have Friday the 13th to look forward to. Deep joy....

Be Careful Out There

Namaste

Muse x

The Temple of Popcorn.

I am depressingly back to reality. I have to deal with what Life throws at me once again and am unable to hide at Penfolds Pad. How I wish I was still there....

On my last day, we had decided on a Cinema visit, he cooked me a lunch of lamb steaks in rosemary with home grown potatoes - bliss. I  found that I rather liked  being looked after as I usually take care of everyone else.  Early afternoon,  I was laying on the sofa reading whilst he was at his laptop and he came over to say hello.  I told him I was a little cold. He went upstairs, found me a blanket and tucked me in. Oops another little unplanned nap for me. I think a silent pact was made between us that we would go in the late afternoon, rather than evening as I was so relaxed with him and being fed so well that I kept nodding off!

Neither of us have been to the Cinema for years. The experience was a difficult one for me. We walked into a what can only be described as a Temple of Popcorn. Yeah, I know I'm getting old and being grumpy here but the stuff was all over the place. The smell was hideous and whilst I waited for him to purchase our tickets a family of over excited South Africans were doing their best to munch their way through industrial sized vats of the stuff and spilling most of it over me...

The film was 'Inception' starring Leonardo Di Caprio. Difficult to describe its genre but a Sci Fi Thriller should cover most options. The film was great, and it took us through layers of time, making our brains work. Penfold was pleased with the 'Bang Bang ' moments, I was not. The sound was designed to ensure that we didn't nod off  but then I have the hearing of a Bat!  The guy sat next to me was in full on 'anti social' mode, eating nachos and chilli sauce, slurping down two litres of coke. The effect on his nervous system did not take too long and he spent the entire film jigging his leg up and down and invading my space. Penfold and I were saving ourselves for later delights. My daughter Siany had also watched the film. 'How was it for you' I said. 'Well mummy' she replied ' I did get it in the end but it took me a bit longer than you.' Bless!

Penfold was heroic, driving me first to his village local, which was populated by two very elderly customers, chewing their way through a roast dinner. The place was dire - the area is moneyed so how does a pub like that survive?  We found the glorious Red Lion in Cricklade. What a lovely place. It has an A La Carte side and a Lounge Bar. We opted for the Lounge Bar. I was blissfully happy with a pint of Becks and Cornish Haddock in Beer Batter with three times cooked homemade chips. Mmmmm..... I think the popcorn had put Penfold off as he opted for the Whitebait starter. Failing that I was being piggy as it was my last night of fun.

So here I am, back to reality but having had a fantastic week with Penfold. Thank you for looking after me Penfold. Adoration persists!

Take Care out There

Namaste

Muse x

The Evils of Public Transport.

I am back home in Cornwall and sad that my week of fun is over. The journey home was not a good one so prepare for a rant. I had decided to travel on the coach as they offer assistance with bags and you can 'alledgedly' book this. I spent 10 minutes on a premium rate number trying to do this. What a rip off, I had to listen to several recorded messages before I got through.

Penfold left me at Swindon and there was no sign of assistance but I didn't mind too much as I was stood in the right place. I told the driver I had booked assistance and he said no one had told him anything. We got to Bristol late where we had to transfer to another coach very quickly as it was waiting for us. I had to wait for the driver to offload everyone else before me as I physically could not carry my bags. Yes, I know I should travel light but I'm a girl! One of the Customer Service people shouted at me to hurry up and that was enough for me. I stamped my foot HARD and shouted 'look at my arm you idiot, what is this, do you actually think I am wearing a hot, scratchy arm guard for fun???'  He looked a bit sheepish and muttered at me that he didn't know I needed assistance. 'That is not the point' said I ' use your bloody eyes'. The driver was great as he calmed me down and told useless Customer Services Chap to go.  It may seem like a small thing to get angry about but when you are in constant pain and people regularly invade your personal space it all gets a bit much sometimes.

The journey continued and I think the original driver had, had a bit of a word with the other driver as when I changed at Plymouth the Customer Services Lady was waiting for me in her high vis jacket. We had to wait for an hour for 25 passengers coming off another coach. It was a party of Americans and everyone of them got on  board and thanked us for waiting. Kind of restores your faith in human nature doesn't it!

Things went from bad to surreal. I was sat at the front with a lovely lady called Liz and we were bantering with the driver, who was telling us a series of  very silly one liner jokes. The Brits were falling about laughing and the Americans were asking us to explain them. A few of the Brits on the coach were worried about relatives waiting for them and as I know the Plymouth road very well, I was giving them timings for their destinations. The driver said I should get on the mic and give the Americans a guided tour. Hilarious! I didn't by the way! I got off the coach at Bodmin to farewell kisses and lots of goodbye waves. Awww....

Just to be serious for a moment. I have been a care worker for years and did not think for a minute that I would end up with a Disability. We don't though do we? I suppose if we did we would wrap ourselves in cotton wool and do nothing at all. Think about it, it could be you. Whether you are unfortunate enough to have a bad accident, as I did, or Disability comes to you through old age, you will, at some time in your life experience it. Take a moment and think of others less fortunate than you and use your eyes to ensure they have a fair shot at life. On a brighter note, losing some of the use of my arm has opened my eyes and I have gained, rather than lost from the experience. Okay she says, lecture over.

I dumped my bags gratefully, yawned down the phone to Penfold and cracked a beer. It was good to be home but tired as I was I had to go to Truro to play with Angelina, my four year old granddaughter, the next day. As you know I am 'between' cars at the moment so this involved more public transport. This time by train, which was smooth but late!

Angelina was waiting for me. I had dropped into a card shop and bought her a couple of helium balloons and grumpily fought my way through the crowds of Saturday shoppers with them. Angelina had dressed herself in a green top, pink skirt, pink shoes, glitter in her hair and completing the ensemble was a pair of sunglasses on the top of her head!  Siany went off to work  looking stunning ,as usual, and Angelina and I hit the shops. She was so funny. She knew exactly what she wanted and if the sun went in she would clip her sunglasses to her top.

We had lunch in an Italian restaurant. I had the Calamari and a glass of pink (the benefits of not driving) and she opted for the coca cola and a dish of 'Manilla'  ice-cream. We had to do a lot of clinking of glasses and say cheers to each other a lot. Fellow diners were as entranced as I.  I asked her if I could go into a clothes shop. 'Just for a minute' she said sternly. Whilst in the shop, she was trying her best to hurry me up. 'This top is fine for you' she announced, or 'I think this one would look good'. Quite the little Diva isn't she! Four presents later we got home. Angelina put her new Scooby Doo DVD on (my granddaughter has great taste you know), got her blankie and we settled down for some chill time.

 What a fabulous day we had doing girly things. Back on the train again. Why do I always have surreal experiences when I travel? My last train journey involved a troupe of Morris Dancers (or should  I say Dorris Prancers) and they insisted on sharing their Cider with me. This time it was a group of lovely Plymouth girls, all about my age. They opened a bottle of the fizzy stuff and insisted that I participated. The cork was popped and ended up wedged in the luggage rack. What a great end to a girly day.

This Muse is tired but happy and promises she will tackle the washing tomorrow.

Take Care out there

Muse x

Confessions and a Meze!

I am back in deepest Wiltshire, after having wandered up to deepest Warwickshire for a couple of days with Penfold. We drove up on Tuesday afternoon, carrying a ' Mini Cool Box Meze' with us to the Dutchman's place. We were all in Cyprus 30 years ago and had decided to get together for a reminisce and a Cypriot style barbie. I had made sheftalia, kebabs, feta, mint and yoghurt dip, taramasalata, greek salad, haloumi and TASHI sauce. I had spent the the previous day wandering around the Turkish/Asian shops and was delighted with my haul. When I explained what I was making, a couple of the Turkish guys tried to invite themselves!

Penfold had to go and cut some grass for his Ma so he dropped me off in the middle of Leamington Spa for a spot of retail therapy. Leamington is a beautiful town and I thought about getting my hair done whilst there. Hmmm...for a wash and blow dry I was quoted £26-£41!! Am I a little Cornish Muse or is Leamington a very rich area? Needless to say, I didn't get my hair done. Penfold picked me up and we set off for The Dutchman's pad.


I love Deppers Bridge, it is a really special place. The barbie was lit and the  beers opened, the peace and tranquility of Deppers Bridge worked it's Magic as we chilled out, and the fun began. The Tashi sauce certainly invoked some memories. Penfold and the Dutchman were hilarious, telling me that my Tashi sauce was not up to standard as it didn't have any crusty bits around the edge and a big black hair in the middle! Ahhh... the delights of Georges bar - we miss you so much! I had been searching for some Metaxa brandy but had failed miserably. 'Probably just as well' muttered the Dutchman. I had no idea at the time how prophetic his words would be...

These oldies but goodies decided to party and play some loud but decent music. Large amounts of alcohol and good food followed. It was getting chilly so the guys made a command decision  to light a fire in the fire pit. Oh! that was so much fun, sat in the dark, grilling Haloumi on sticks over the fire and hiking up the music. The only person missing was Kelly who had gone down to Cornwall. We were drinking wine at this stage and with the atmosphere, fire and great company, it just slipped down...not my fault she says. I decided that a bit of hair fluffing was needed and trying to step out of a fire pit gracefully after a lot of alcohol is not the easiest thing for a girl to do. One forward roll down a grassy bank and the guys completely helpless with laughter followed. Ooops, where did that bank come from! Penfold has taken to calling me 'DangerMuse' ever since...

I was fine in the loo, at least I thought I was until the guys came looking for me. I walked out of the bathroom to find them stood there, looking at me with concern. They both smiled at me and I said 'I think I need to go to bed now'. So at the grand old age of 46 I was put to bed by two wonderful friends. Oh the shame! I think I was about 20 the last time I got put to bed in that state.

Penfold and the Dutchman left me to sleep it off and kept checking on me...bless. They were up early and spreading a nasty rumour about my snoring. I do not snore...honest she says with fingers crossed behind her back! I finally emerged about 11.30 and having been put to bed, I had no idea where the bugger I was. Deppers Bridge is a bit of a maze and I wandered through the house until I finally found Penfold some 10 minutes later.  Penfold, heroically fed me tea and water until I felt able to face the shower.

The Dutchman was busy with telecommunications (don't ask) and other things so Penfold and I went into Leamington for lunch. He took me to a place called The Old Library, which is a fabulous community project. There is an Art Gallery and a great vegetarian restaurant. A small but beautifully cooked menu is cooked by wonderful chefs, bizarrely playing Queen tracks, whilst they cook in an open kitchen. Strange but delightful.

I had another spot of retail therapy, this Cornish Muse does not get to the big city very often but enjoyed being in Leamington Spa. It is such a pretty town. Back to Deppers Bridge, where I made a chunky tomato soup for the guys and had a bath. I was  feeling a lot better as we departed for The Newbold Comyn Arms to meet a couple of young singers from Folk on The Water, Ellen and Tom. Ellen is a fantastic young talent and is going off to gig in Greece so it was a bit of a farewell do.  I'll share a video of her later on this Blog. Check it out as she is going to be huge. We had a great evening with Ellen and Tom, talking about Folk on The Water and Fliss, Ellens sister entertained us with her love life. The Git is in Wales with the folks at the moment and is 'truly, madly, deeply'  with Fliss.

It was all too soon time to leave and we said a few tearful farewells. Folk on The Water was such a special time for us all and we are going to do it all again next year.
Take Care out there.

Namaste

Muse x