The week before The Royal Wedding (hereafter known as TRW) hacked me off. The Media speculation as to what may or may not happen made me grumpy. I don't mind a bit of a Royal Knees Up, after all I am a Brit and am very proud of our Queen. Charlie and Camilla can bugger off as far as I am concerned - puppets of the establishment, hedonistic and arrogant.
I never really got to grips with the Nations worship of Princess Di? I didn't get all the howling and National grief thing when she tragically died. Nice Sloany girl, fed to a pair of lions named Charlie and Camilla like a sacrifice. I felt sorry for her, desperately sorry and was sad that she had, had to cope with some seriously nasty people, in order to survive. Still, she knew what she was doing with the Press and used them to her own advantage. It all got a bit 'Dynasty' there for a few years.
After the week of Media frenzy, prior to TRW I had, had enough. I got very little sleep the night before and popped a sleeping pill at 4am in desperation. I stuck the duvet over my head and slept blissfully through the whole thing. Bad Muse! My mother phoned me at about 4pm, asking my opinion of the dress etc. As I had just crawled out of the shower, I mumbled that I loved the dress etc... not having seen a damn thing!
At this point I thought I had better switch on the box and catch up with all things Royal and gushing Media Shite! All my preconceptions were shot down in flames and I did have a tear or two as he said 'You look beautiful' to her as she stood beside him at the altar. My faith in Romance has been restored. William must have known that his words would be read but it seems he was determined to make it their day as well as the Nations. Good luck to them, they will need it.
I have just watched a film called The Young Victoria. I thoroughly enjoyed it as was in the mood for a bit of a Costume Flick. It has sat in my DVD collection for the last 6 months and it finally got dusted off tonight. Now there was a Royal Court to be bloody scared of. Victoria must have been a very strong woman to go through what she did. Her accession to the throne was difficult to say the least but after 9 children and a reign of 63 years and 216 days, she became our longest serving British Monarch. Our own Queen is a close second at 59 years and 84 days. Interestingly Charlie has recently become the longest serving king-in-waiting in British history.
Seems there is a god after all!
Be Careful out there.
Muse x
Monday, 2 May 2011
Saturday, 23 April 2011
Haile Selassie, Hope and Hartland.
I have been trying to keep my posts short and sweet recently as I don't want you all nodding off whilst trawling through them. This is going to be a tad long so settle down and pour yourself a drink.
I am two thirds of the way through a book and it has had a profound affect on me. This book is almost like a spider sitting in the middle of it's web, casting hundreds of strands out and drawing you in to the story. I have read more about Ethiopia tonight than I ever though possible. The book is called 'The Hospital by The River - A Story of Hope' by Dr Catherine Hamlin, an Australian Gynaecologist. I picked up a ten year old copy of it in a Charity Shop in Bodmin. I think there must be an Aussie in Bodmin who donates books because this is the third book I have read that has been published in Oz but not here. I feel so strongly about this book that I had to write about it.
It is the story of a husband and wife team, Dr's Reg and Catherine Hamlin. They trained in Sydney and accepted a post in Addis Ababa in 1959. When they arrived, they had no idea of the task that they had undertaken. It's hard to precis the story but I'll give it a go. Catherine and Reg were apalled at the number of women arriving at the hospital with Fistulas. Fistula by definition is; An abnormal or surgically made passage between a hollow or tubular organ and the body surface, or between two hollow or tubular organs. Essentially, a tear or hole in the wrong place.
Ethiopian women often marry when they are 12 and are typically preganant by 13 or 14. Many of these young wives are unable to give birth naturally as their bodies are too immature to bear a child. Couple this with very rural areas, no roads and very few Hospitals and you have a problem, rarely seen in the West. These women would fail to give birth. The baby would die inside them and start to be reabsorbed into their bodies, which is when they finally managed to expel the baby. There is no easy way to put this but young women were arriving at the Hospital with terrible Fistulas and dreadful bladder and bowel incontinence caused by days of straining to deliver their baby. They would be ostracised by their husbands and families and cast out of their village society.
Reg and Catherine saved over 20,000 women and after Reg died. Catherine continues her work at the Hospital, they founded together, even though she is well into her eighties. What struck me about this book was Catherines faith in herself and Reg. Catherine came from a missionary background and her prayers to her God kept her strong. I wish I had the same strength of character and more importantly faith. She stoically went through revolutions, famines, the near loss of her son and the death of her husband but still keeps going. Please read the book if you can. It is available on Amazon.
I suppose there are many stories of triumph over adversity, like Catherines but it was the way she told it. Her calm and gentle manner inspired me beyond anything else. The other thing that influenced me was her friendship with Haile Salassie, Emperor of Ethiopia. She found herself in a social circle with him and his extended family. Catherine supported his family when they were imprisoned after a coup by Mengistu and during the terrible times of The Red Terror.
I have always been rather entranced by Haile Selassie and his story. Catherine describes him as a gentleman, concerned for his family and during the famine of 1974 (no that is not a typo - Geldof came 10 years later - Dimbleby did it first in '73) she reports him to be an old man and out of touch with his subjects. Not in a critical way, being Catherine, she merely states the obvious. Ethiopia has been a Feudal state for centuries. The gap between rich and poor is massive.
Let me tell you how I became entangled with Haile Selassie. My parents lived in the parish of Hartland in North Devon for 10 years whilst my father was working for the 'Donuts' in Morewenstow. Just a mile or so out of the village is a beautiful church called St Nectans. I would sometimes drive back from Hartland Quay and sit quietly in the church. I came across a chair with a plaque on it stating 'This Chair was used by Haile Selassie, Emperor of Ethiopia who visited this Parish on 17 August 1938'. I wondered who he was and went home and asked my mother. We had no Wikipedia or internet then. I searched the library for books about him and became transfixed with his life. To have Catherine's account of his later life and subsequent death delighted me because she wrote 'as it was' and this was a treasure to me.
Hartland has always been a special place for me. I met a magical man by the name of Satish Kumar who lives in the village. A former Jain Monk and a disciple of Ghandi, a founder of Dartington College, he has touched many lives. Mary Norton, author of The Borrowers and Bedknobs and Broomsticks made it her home. Singing carols with Joss Ackland, the actor and him judging my eldest son to be Prince of Hartland in the Carnival was another memorable moment.
Its funny how certain people touch your life. Haile Selassie touched mine and 20 years on Catherine helped me to understand more about him and the proud and wonderful women of Ethiopia.
I just wish I had her Faith.
Namaste
Muse x
I am two thirds of the way through a book and it has had a profound affect on me. This book is almost like a spider sitting in the middle of it's web, casting hundreds of strands out and drawing you in to the story. I have read more about Ethiopia tonight than I ever though possible. The book is called 'The Hospital by The River - A Story of Hope' by Dr Catherine Hamlin, an Australian Gynaecologist. I picked up a ten year old copy of it in a Charity Shop in Bodmin. I think there must be an Aussie in Bodmin who donates books because this is the third book I have read that has been published in Oz but not here. I feel so strongly about this book that I had to write about it.
It is the story of a husband and wife team, Dr's Reg and Catherine Hamlin. They trained in Sydney and accepted a post in Addis Ababa in 1959. When they arrived, they had no idea of the task that they had undertaken. It's hard to precis the story but I'll give it a go. Catherine and Reg were apalled at the number of women arriving at the hospital with Fistulas. Fistula by definition is; An abnormal or surgically made passage between a hollow or tubular organ and the body surface, or between two hollow or tubular organs. Essentially, a tear or hole in the wrong place.
Ethiopian women often marry when they are 12 and are typically preganant by 13 or 14. Many of these young wives are unable to give birth naturally as their bodies are too immature to bear a child. Couple this with very rural areas, no roads and very few Hospitals and you have a problem, rarely seen in the West. These women would fail to give birth. The baby would die inside them and start to be reabsorbed into their bodies, which is when they finally managed to expel the baby. There is no easy way to put this but young women were arriving at the Hospital with terrible Fistulas and dreadful bladder and bowel incontinence caused by days of straining to deliver their baby. They would be ostracised by their husbands and families and cast out of their village society.
Reg and Catherine saved over 20,000 women and after Reg died. Catherine continues her work at the Hospital, they founded together, even though she is well into her eighties. What struck me about this book was Catherines faith in herself and Reg. Catherine came from a missionary background and her prayers to her God kept her strong. I wish I had the same strength of character and more importantly faith. She stoically went through revolutions, famines, the near loss of her son and the death of her husband but still keeps going. Please read the book if you can. It is available on Amazon.
I suppose there are many stories of triumph over adversity, like Catherines but it was the way she told it. Her calm and gentle manner inspired me beyond anything else. The other thing that influenced me was her friendship with Haile Salassie, Emperor of Ethiopia. She found herself in a social circle with him and his extended family. Catherine supported his family when they were imprisoned after a coup by Mengistu and during the terrible times of The Red Terror.
I have always been rather entranced by Haile Selassie and his story. Catherine describes him as a gentleman, concerned for his family and during the famine of 1974 (no that is not a typo - Geldof came 10 years later - Dimbleby did it first in '73) she reports him to be an old man and out of touch with his subjects. Not in a critical way, being Catherine, she merely states the obvious. Ethiopia has been a Feudal state for centuries. The gap between rich and poor is massive.
Let me tell you how I became entangled with Haile Selassie. My parents lived in the parish of Hartland in North Devon for 10 years whilst my father was working for the 'Donuts' in Morewenstow. Just a mile or so out of the village is a beautiful church called St Nectans. I would sometimes drive back from Hartland Quay and sit quietly in the church. I came across a chair with a plaque on it stating 'This Chair was used by Haile Selassie, Emperor of Ethiopia who visited this Parish on 17 August 1938'. I wondered who he was and went home and asked my mother. We had no Wikipedia or internet then. I searched the library for books about him and became transfixed with his life. To have Catherine's account of his later life and subsequent death delighted me because she wrote 'as it was' and this was a treasure to me.
Hartland has always been a special place for me. I met a magical man by the name of Satish Kumar who lives in the village. A former Jain Monk and a disciple of Ghandi, a founder of Dartington College, he has touched many lives. Mary Norton, author of The Borrowers and Bedknobs and Broomsticks made it her home. Singing carols with Joss Ackland, the actor and him judging my eldest son to be Prince of Hartland in the Carnival was another memorable moment.
Its funny how certain people touch your life. Haile Selassie touched mine and 20 years on Catherine helped me to understand more about him and the proud and wonderful women of Ethiopia.
I just wish I had her Faith.
Namaste
Muse x
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
Arse Kicker...
I saw these 'Words of Wisdom' on the back of a sweatshirt, worn by a blonde, large 'arse', 30 something. I used to be an Arse Kicker - 'AK'! When I was young, I had beautiful skin, witty words and sexy eyes and many older women would not speak to me. I did not understand why they treated me like dust. I have never been a 'bitchy' woman as I could not see the point. I vowed, at the age of 26, I would never, ever treat a younger woman like that. I have stuck to my vow.
Onto the AK that I am now. Recently, I found myself stumbling through my life but it was only tonight that I realised that I can be an AK again. I still have sexy eyes and am able to be generous, loving, giving and...as hard as bloody steel if the situation demands.
Talking of which, I am made of Stern Stuff because I come from Stern Stuff! My 90 something Grandmother made the trip to Cornwall yesterday. She looks absolutely fabulous with her 3 inch heels and her lipstick. My grandmother or as she is known as 'Nanny' to me and 'Two Nanny' to my children or 'Three Nanny' to my Granddaughter Angelina. It is a beloved Welsh thing and she is a definite 'AK' plus two.
I am trying to imagine her life. She has lived in the same house in Cardiff for 70 plus years. During the Second World War she took a Belgian family in and looked after them. She had three bedrooms, three children and another family to look after. As a young boy my father had a great friend called Roger and when they were teenagers, Roger was left to fend for himself. She took him in, fed, clothed and watched him join the RAF with my dad.
Just as I did, she found herself pregnant in her 30's with my lovely Aunt Jacqueline. When I fretted over my late pregnancy, she telephoned me, told me not to worry and told me it would be alright.
I must look to her and realise that whatever she went through was far and beyond what I am going through. Her name, by the way is Florence May.
Thank You Flo.
Be Careful out there.
Muse x
Onto the AK that I am now. Recently, I found myself stumbling through my life but it was only tonight that I realised that I can be an AK again. I still have sexy eyes and am able to be generous, loving, giving and...as hard as bloody steel if the situation demands.
Talking of which, I am made of Stern Stuff because I come from Stern Stuff! My 90 something Grandmother made the trip to Cornwall yesterday. She looks absolutely fabulous with her 3 inch heels and her lipstick. My grandmother or as she is known as 'Nanny' to me and 'Two Nanny' to my children or 'Three Nanny' to my Granddaughter Angelina. It is a beloved Welsh thing and she is a definite 'AK' plus two.
I am trying to imagine her life. She has lived in the same house in Cardiff for 70 plus years. During the Second World War she took a Belgian family in and looked after them. She had three bedrooms, three children and another family to look after. As a young boy my father had a great friend called Roger and when they were teenagers, Roger was left to fend for himself. She took him in, fed, clothed and watched him join the RAF with my dad.
Just as I did, she found herself pregnant in her 30's with my lovely Aunt Jacqueline. When I fretted over my late pregnancy, she telephoned me, told me not to worry and told me it would be alright.
I must look to her and realise that whatever she went through was far and beyond what I am going through. Her name, by the way is Florence May.
Thank You Flo.
Be Careful out there.
Muse x
Sunday, 17 April 2011
Dedicated to D - She knows who she is.
I tried to watch 'The Social Network' the other night and failed to watch it to the end. For those not in the know, it is the story of Facebook. How it was founded by Mark Zuckerberg and various other people, the ensuing lawsuits and 'Social' fallout he endured.
Perhaps 'endured' is the wrong word for it, as to me, Zuckerberg is an infamous Geek with the mind of a genius and the social skills of a Hermit Crab. Note the reference to 'Hermit' and recent pap pictures of him squatting in a shop doorway, eating Mexican food. There is a reason for this. He is probably what I fondly call an 'Aspe' - I've dated a few BTW! His Asperger traits, linked with the mind of a Japanese high speed Bullet Train have got him into an awful lot of hot water. I understand the premis of FB and how it is used. Post what you want to folks but be aware it may come up behind you and bite you in the bum! Therefore, I don't really have a problem with Zuckerberg, suffice to say; get those fecking ads off my wall, they are irritating the pants off me!
Facebook has given me access to so many long lost friends and so much enjoyment that I cannot thank the Geek enough. Getting in touch with the Donut Kids was such a massive thing in my life. Last night I heard from a girlfriend that I had 'lost' along the way. I missed her so much but wasn't able to write that letter or make that phone call - as you do.
I searched for months on FB for her and my little bit of grey matter finally registered that she had a maiden name - I had been searching for her married name. Durr! I had a precious message from her and am delighted that she is bigger and better than me and was able to put my past mistakes behind us both. That little message meant so much to me.
Whatever you all think of 'The Great God Facebook', use it as it is supposed to be used and enjoy the ride.
Be careful out there.
Muse x
PS - Shame you did not use your talents effectively V.
Perhaps 'endured' is the wrong word for it, as to me, Zuckerberg is an infamous Geek with the mind of a genius and the social skills of a Hermit Crab. Note the reference to 'Hermit' and recent pap pictures of him squatting in a shop doorway, eating Mexican food. There is a reason for this. He is probably what I fondly call an 'Aspe' - I've dated a few BTW! His Asperger traits, linked with the mind of a Japanese high speed Bullet Train have got him into an awful lot of hot water. I understand the premis of FB and how it is used. Post what you want to folks but be aware it may come up behind you and bite you in the bum! Therefore, I don't really have a problem with Zuckerberg, suffice to say; get those fecking ads off my wall, they are irritating the pants off me!
Facebook has given me access to so many long lost friends and so much enjoyment that I cannot thank the Geek enough. Getting in touch with the Donut Kids was such a massive thing in my life. Last night I heard from a girlfriend that I had 'lost' along the way. I missed her so much but wasn't able to write that letter or make that phone call - as you do.
I searched for months on FB for her and my little bit of grey matter finally registered that she had a maiden name - I had been searching for her married name. Durr! I had a precious message from her and am delighted that she is bigger and better than me and was able to put my past mistakes behind us both. That little message meant so much to me.
Whatever you all think of 'The Great God Facebook', use it as it is supposed to be used and enjoy the ride.
Be careful out there.
Muse x
PS - Shame you did not use your talents effectively V.
Friday, 15 April 2011
Middle Class Bangers.
My little Banger has gone and has been replaced by a bit of a smart Nissan Micra. Tis very plush, it has a radio instead of a hole, power steering and some brakes.... imagine having Feck Off Brakes that you can actually use instead of having to change from 5th to 2nd very rapidly! Note to all you guys out there, I can read a map and tend to drive with my gears rather than wearing out my brake pads...nuff said! The blowers for the windscreen work so that I don't have to travel with 15 tea towels and a Shami stuffed in my glove box. Even more impressive is that the sun roof does not leak! No more Chinese Water Torture for me!
I have to say that the Banger has been a faithful and trusty companion for the last 9 months. I was very sadly broke at the time I purchased it. Obviously, I bought it on a sunny warm day and everything looked fine. I had a terrible winter trying to mop crap off the inside of the windscreen. I do not normally touch the inside of my windscreen - only 'women' drivers do that...ooo get me! I used to struggle to get into the damn thing as sometimes the central locking went into 'sulk' mode and it would take me a good half an hour to gain entry. Oh! And do not forget all the times that the alarm has gone off at 3am and I have had to get out of bed to silence, kick and swear at it. Apparently it wanted to kip on my sofa when we were experiencing high winds and rain.... However, it has never ever broken down and never failed to start! This I must be grateful for!
I knew that the banger was coming off the road, so was reading the motoring section of the local paper a couple of weeks ago and wondering how I was going to manage to get another Ve-Hickle on the road. I came across an Ad asking for a banger from a guy who wanted it for his son to learn to drive in. As I was reading the paper 4 days, after it was published, I rang the number and thought that he probably had a banger already. He rang me straight back and we agreed to meet. Surprise, surprise he offered me £170 for it! This meant I could afford to invest in Middle Class Banger rather than Working Class Banger. The MOT was due and as my car had a huge hole in the back passenger floor, an exhaust that farts like a Pregnant Elephant and the need to kip on my sofa when it's cold and exhausted, I said to him "Are you sure"? I am too honest to sell a load of crap onto someone else. After all Bad Karma comes back to haunt you! He was quite happy to take it and told me that he lived in deepest Cornwall, had a lot of land and it was for his 12 year old son to drive around his field in. Apparently his son has already wrecked a Ford Escort on the field. What a great dad he is!
That! was my childhood. At 13 years old I was driving Landrovers (real nasty ones) and backing Speed Boats down the jetty at Dhekelia Ski Club. At 17, I actually managed to 'deep six' a Landrover complete with trailer and Speedboat. Erm...I think this was due to a 4.30am start at Dhekelia Ski Club and a 2.30 am finish at The George Club! The Yompers at Alexandra Barracks had to pull out my Landrover, with their Landrover. Oh, the shame! I was Catatonic!
So here I am, in a state of bliss, driving my zippy little Micra through the Cornish lanes with superb v.flashy stereo on extra loud! The stereo is so good that apparently I have to remove the cover and take it with me in case someone is jealous. Apparently people are more jealous of Middle Class Bangers than Working Class bangers... It's All Greek to me!
Be careful out there
Muse x
I have to say that the Banger has been a faithful and trusty companion for the last 9 months. I was very sadly broke at the time I purchased it. Obviously, I bought it on a sunny warm day and everything looked fine. I had a terrible winter trying to mop crap off the inside of the windscreen. I do not normally touch the inside of my windscreen - only 'women' drivers do that...ooo get me! I used to struggle to get into the damn thing as sometimes the central locking went into 'sulk' mode and it would take me a good half an hour to gain entry. Oh! And do not forget all the times that the alarm has gone off at 3am and I have had to get out of bed to silence, kick and swear at it. Apparently it wanted to kip on my sofa when we were experiencing high winds and rain.... However, it has never ever broken down and never failed to start! This I must be grateful for!
I knew that the banger was coming off the road, so was reading the motoring section of the local paper a couple of weeks ago and wondering how I was going to manage to get another Ve-Hickle on the road. I came across an Ad asking for a banger from a guy who wanted it for his son to learn to drive in. As I was reading the paper 4 days, after it was published, I rang the number and thought that he probably had a banger already. He rang me straight back and we agreed to meet. Surprise, surprise he offered me £170 for it! This meant I could afford to invest in Middle Class Banger rather than Working Class Banger. The MOT was due and as my car had a huge hole in the back passenger floor, an exhaust that farts like a Pregnant Elephant and the need to kip on my sofa when it's cold and exhausted, I said to him "Are you sure"? I am too honest to sell a load of crap onto someone else. After all Bad Karma comes back to haunt you! He was quite happy to take it and told me that he lived in deepest Cornwall, had a lot of land and it was for his 12 year old son to drive around his field in. Apparently his son has already wrecked a Ford Escort on the field. What a great dad he is!
That! was my childhood. At 13 years old I was driving Landrovers (real nasty ones) and backing Speed Boats down the jetty at Dhekelia Ski Club. At 17, I actually managed to 'deep six' a Landrover complete with trailer and Speedboat. Erm...I think this was due to a 4.30am start at Dhekelia Ski Club and a 2.30 am finish at The George Club! The Yompers at Alexandra Barracks had to pull out my Landrover, with their Landrover. Oh, the shame! I was Catatonic!
So here I am, in a state of bliss, driving my zippy little Micra through the Cornish lanes with superb v.flashy stereo on extra loud! The stereo is so good that apparently I have to remove the cover and take it with me in case someone is jealous. Apparently people are more jealous of Middle Class Bangers than Working Class bangers... It's All Greek to me!
Be careful out there
Muse x
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
His Crap is the same as my Crap !
T'Internet went down last week. Not just me but most of my neighbours. Blimey, my front door was red hot with people knocking on it and wondering whether I had a landline. The answer was a No. Not difficult in Bodmin, where I live. My phone number has only 5 digits and if its gonna crash then we are usually the first to do so.
A few nights without the Internet does strange things to a person. I actually watched some Crap TV. Dutch and I were discussing this and we agreed that my Crap is the same as his Crap. That means same Crap but different Crap to other people. Hmmm, hopefully you know what I mean! Crap means something that you can watch on TV with your thumb up your bum and the brain in neutral - erm...thats how the old saying goes.
Okay, onto my Crap. Reality TV. First, I watched something on BBC3 called 'Working Girls'. A programme about getting young girls to work as they were unemployed. Jaw dropping stuff. All they wanted to do was stay in bed. Getting these young women to work was like pulling teeth. Perhaps I am lucky. My elder children both work full time and have done so throughout their 6th form/degree education. We have always had a work ethic and I expected nothing more. I brought my children up to be independent.
These young women were unbelievable. They actually had no confidence in themselves. Sorry to preach but at 18, despite growing up under the 'Forces Brat' umbrella I was delighted about starting work. The girls in question had been spoiled by their parents, waited on hand, foot and finger. The parents should have taken responsibility for themselves, not just their offspring. Back to the sofa. I ground my teeth down to nothing as I sat and watched apathetic young women resist every opportunity that was thrown their way. All was eventually sorted and the girls started to realise that work might be a good thing. Hurrah for that but why did they need such remote 'Mentors'?? Why were their parents so submissive?
Onto the hilarious 'Living With Women'. Yeah, a fairly ridiculous premis. Again the parents played a huge part in this. Young guys were sent off into the yonder by their long suffering girlfriends to learn how to 'live' with older, wiser and much more savvy women. Actually they were rather gentle with their 'victims'. The whole thing stank of very bad parenting. Not difficult is it...
I did watch one whole episode of 'Jamies Dream School'. That's a lie! I had to turn it off. Stick to the cooking you Mockney Illiterate Little Boy!...Ooo get me! Our teachers are having to deal with the lack of parental control and could do without your help. Get over it man!
Onto 'One Born Every Minute'. Channel 4's rather excellent attempt at showing what happens when women go into labour and give birth. Personally, I would rather have my Ma there than some poor man who is having to deal with the incoming concept that is Fatherhood and his girl completely losing it in front of him. Believe me, an air of mystery is far better than asking him to shave your legs for you !
This week we had Oakley and Dave. Dave is an ex-Heroin addict now turned Methodone addict. He probably had about three brain cells in his head and was so laid back that I was rather worried he would actually lay back and stick his feet in the stirrups. (Note all single guys, look up Birth and Stirrups, not to be confused with a sexual preference.) Oakley is a pretty 18 year old, middle class girl who had (in her defence) got up the duff by accident. Dave was the love of her life...aww bless she's 18! Oakley had to grow up rather fast and supervise their finances and cope with his methadone habit. Oakley was so in awe of him because he represented everything her parents abhorred.
Oakley; Quote - I want to give my baby girl everything my parents gave me. We had a lovely life with beautiful things and lovely holidays. - Unquote. God help her!
I am so distressed for her. Baby Tallulah or Tiffany or something like that was born at a whopping 9lb ish to this tiny size 8 girl. All Dave could do was grin and congratulate himself. Gruesome.
My Crap might be the same as his Crap but I think it upsets me more.
Look after you and yours.
Muse x
A few nights without the Internet does strange things to a person. I actually watched some Crap TV. Dutch and I were discussing this and we agreed that my Crap is the same as his Crap. That means same Crap but different Crap to other people. Hmmm, hopefully you know what I mean! Crap means something that you can watch on TV with your thumb up your bum and the brain in neutral - erm...thats how the old saying goes.
Okay, onto my Crap. Reality TV. First, I watched something on BBC3 called 'Working Girls'. A programme about getting young girls to work as they were unemployed. Jaw dropping stuff. All they wanted to do was stay in bed. Getting these young women to work was like pulling teeth. Perhaps I am lucky. My elder children both work full time and have done so throughout their 6th form/degree education. We have always had a work ethic and I expected nothing more. I brought my children up to be independent.
These young women were unbelievable. They actually had no confidence in themselves. Sorry to preach but at 18, despite growing up under the 'Forces Brat' umbrella I was delighted about starting work. The girls in question had been spoiled by their parents, waited on hand, foot and finger. The parents should have taken responsibility for themselves, not just their offspring. Back to the sofa. I ground my teeth down to nothing as I sat and watched apathetic young women resist every opportunity that was thrown their way. All was eventually sorted and the girls started to realise that work might be a good thing. Hurrah for that but why did they need such remote 'Mentors'?? Why were their parents so submissive?
Onto the hilarious 'Living With Women'. Yeah, a fairly ridiculous premis. Again the parents played a huge part in this. Young guys were sent off into the yonder by their long suffering girlfriends to learn how to 'live' with older, wiser and much more savvy women. Actually they were rather gentle with their 'victims'. The whole thing stank of very bad parenting. Not difficult is it...
I did watch one whole episode of 'Jamies Dream School'. That's a lie! I had to turn it off. Stick to the cooking you Mockney Illiterate Little Boy!...Ooo get me! Our teachers are having to deal with the lack of parental control and could do without your help. Get over it man!
Onto 'One Born Every Minute'. Channel 4's rather excellent attempt at showing what happens when women go into labour and give birth. Personally, I would rather have my Ma there than some poor man who is having to deal with the incoming concept that is Fatherhood and his girl completely losing it in front of him. Believe me, an air of mystery is far better than asking him to shave your legs for you !
This week we had Oakley and Dave. Dave is an ex-Heroin addict now turned Methodone addict. He probably had about three brain cells in his head and was so laid back that I was rather worried he would actually lay back and stick his feet in the stirrups. (Note all single guys, look up Birth and Stirrups, not to be confused with a sexual preference.) Oakley is a pretty 18 year old, middle class girl who had (in her defence) got up the duff by accident. Dave was the love of her life...aww bless she's 18! Oakley had to grow up rather fast and supervise their finances and cope with his methadone habit. Oakley was so in awe of him because he represented everything her parents abhorred.
Oakley; Quote - I want to give my baby girl everything my parents gave me. We had a lovely life with beautiful things and lovely holidays. - Unquote. God help her!
I am so distressed for her. Baby Tallulah or Tiffany or something like that was born at a whopping 9lb ish to this tiny size 8 girl. All Dave could do was grin and congratulate himself. Gruesome.
My Crap might be the same as his Crap but I think it upsets me more.
Look after you and yours.
Muse x
Tuesday, 1 March 2011
Bored Little Boys.
I spent last week at the Parents Lodge in deepest Cornwall. It is about six miles from the sea, with not a lot between it and the Atlantic. The parents were in Switzerland with the Great Grandaughter, I was therefore responsible for The Git over half term. He usually buggers off to the parents for every weekend/holiday and I am left to be ill in peace. Add to this the fact that The Git had been off school for two weeks due to a bad chest infection...difficult!
I do try to be a good parent...honest. But three weeks in the company of my son was pushing my sanity to the limit. We started out quite well. I live in a three bed 60's house with virtually no heating and am used to wandering around in the evening looking like a homeless person. Scarf, check! Furry boots, check! Large cardi, check! Fingerless gloves, check! The Lodge has state of the art heating, insulation and is fecking boiling. I spent a week hanging out of a window with my face in a force nine gale blustering off the Atlantic. Seriously though the weather was horizontal rain and a force nine ALL week. Pretty awful for the poor Git.
We went to McDonalds, the Beach and the Aquarium. Tried the swimming pools but they were all closed and I was not going to wander around a very small Zoo looking at grumpy, wet and fed up animals! A further complication was that there was no landline, no mobile signal and as for Broadband...forget it! This meant we had sporadic electricity, a TV and ourselves.
The Git was really good but bored little boys are not the easiest to deal with. I suppose the whole week made me appreciate how insular we have all become. All readers of this Blog know that I did not have a TV as a child due to the many postings abroad. I did not know any better and am very grateful for that. Instead I buried my head in books. The Git has slowly grown into the age of the Internet and now knows more about 'Putes than I have forgotten. This is a reality check for me as a parent.
The Git does not spend hours on games, online. He spreads himself around, talking to friends, shopping, playing the odd game and editing his You Tube page which is all about skate boarding. I don't play games online and also spread myself about doing different things. Okay...so we are using the net in a positive way but we are not communicating. This all smacks of BAD mother. Yeah! I agree, he is my third child, perhaps I am not able to parent as I once did. I remember, as the eldest of five kids, my little sister Jax, was at one point in her teenage years, allowed to stay out until two in the morning! I actually had a row with my mother about it as I was given a curfew of 10.30.
There are two sides to the coin here. Do you realise that times change and become a more relaxed parent? Or do you understand that you must step up to the mark, embrace the change and still instill values and routine in your child?
Talking of 'Bored Little Boys' and the Internet. I have quoted this on my Blog before but this quote is so topical at the moment.
The Internet is the first thing that humanity has built that humanity doesn't understand, the largest experiment in anarchy that we have ever had.
Eric Schmidt
We have a lot of 'Bored Little Boys' in the Middle East at the moment and as this is not a political Blog, I shall just say that watching certain people smack a load of propoganda on the Net and sitting back to watch it explode is interesting to say the least.
Be careful What You Wish For.
Muse x
I do try to be a good parent...honest. But three weeks in the company of my son was pushing my sanity to the limit. We started out quite well. I live in a three bed 60's house with virtually no heating and am used to wandering around in the evening looking like a homeless person. Scarf, check! Furry boots, check! Large cardi, check! Fingerless gloves, check! The Lodge has state of the art heating, insulation and is fecking boiling. I spent a week hanging out of a window with my face in a force nine gale blustering off the Atlantic. Seriously though the weather was horizontal rain and a force nine ALL week. Pretty awful for the poor Git.
We went to McDonalds, the Beach and the Aquarium. Tried the swimming pools but they were all closed and I was not going to wander around a very small Zoo looking at grumpy, wet and fed up animals! A further complication was that there was no landline, no mobile signal and as for Broadband...forget it! This meant we had sporadic electricity, a TV and ourselves.
The Git was really good but bored little boys are not the easiest to deal with. I suppose the whole week made me appreciate how insular we have all become. All readers of this Blog know that I did not have a TV as a child due to the many postings abroad. I did not know any better and am very grateful for that. Instead I buried my head in books. The Git has slowly grown into the age of the Internet and now knows more about 'Putes than I have forgotten. This is a reality check for me as a parent.
The Git does not spend hours on games, online. He spreads himself around, talking to friends, shopping, playing the odd game and editing his You Tube page which is all about skate boarding. I don't play games online and also spread myself about doing different things. Okay...so we are using the net in a positive way but we are not communicating. This all smacks of BAD mother. Yeah! I agree, he is my third child, perhaps I am not able to parent as I once did. I remember, as the eldest of five kids, my little sister Jax, was at one point in her teenage years, allowed to stay out until two in the morning! I actually had a row with my mother about it as I was given a curfew of 10.30.
There are two sides to the coin here. Do you realise that times change and become a more relaxed parent? Or do you understand that you must step up to the mark, embrace the change and still instill values and routine in your child?
Talking of 'Bored Little Boys' and the Internet. I have quoted this on my Blog before but this quote is so topical at the moment.
The Internet is the first thing that humanity has built that humanity doesn't understand, the largest experiment in anarchy that we have ever had.
Eric Schmidt
We have a lot of 'Bored Little Boys' in the Middle East at the moment and as this is not a political Blog, I shall just say that watching certain people smack a load of propoganda on the Net and sitting back to watch it explode is interesting to say the least.
Be careful What You Wish For.
Muse x
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