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