I have been suffering with writers block, boredom and lack of motivation. Never mind the Winter Solstice approaches, then it's all downhill from there, the dark evenings getting lighter as each day passes.
Bit of an odd week in the Muse household. The weather has been spectacular, horizontal rain and high winds. My parents could not get out of the farm where they live because of fallen trees. Serves them right for living in the middle of nowhere. I still maintain they got so tired of answering the phone and of various offspring coming to squat, that they moved into a one bed farm cottage on purpose! Oh and let me tell you about the pigs. They live about two hundred yards from a barn containing a couple of pigs. Said pigs bred and lo and behold, lots of piglets. Now, my mother is animal mad and has fed these little bacon rashers from very young. Sorry you veggies out there but I could not resist. I love piggies, especially with apple sauce! The upshot is they think she is their mother, so instead of children she has now become the proud parent of almost fully grown piglets. A typical phone conversation with her goes something like this:
Me - Hi mum just wanted to tell you about....
Mum - Hang on darling one of the pigs wants to come in.
Me - Why are you letting a pig into the house?
Mum - Ahh he wants to play with his ball, come here boy. Ahh do you want some apples?
Me - Anyway mum I just wanted....
Mum - No piggy don't put your head in the fridge, no, no...good boy come to me.
Me - You are completely barking mother.
Mum - I have to go darling, he's lost his ball under the sofa...
I promise you I am NOT making this up. Picture all of this with my mother in her rollers, speaking in her best Mrs Bouquet voice and you should have some idea of what I have to deal with!
As I said before, it has been a bit of an odd week. The Git has been driving me mad as he needs to run free and that has been impossible during the stormy weather. The poor little man has had a few nightmares after his brush with the bullies but when he woke me at 2 am this morning I had no sympathy. We watched Dr Who together last night and I was cowering behind the sofa (I am such a girl...) whilst he laughed at me. I think last nights viewing was responsible. Absolutely no chance of him admitting that, after all he is a bloke!
A police officer finally visited him tonight after a missed appointment on Friday, to which my father grumpily commented that I should proceed to the nearest motorway, where I would find hundreds of the boys in blue. I have to admit he has a point. Okay, so the upshot is that The Git does not want to go to court as he finds the very concept terrifying and we have agreed to go to mediation at the school, where the bullies will be formally warned by a Community Beat Officer. I asked Josh what he thought the police should do. 'Send them to boarding school' was his reply. Interesting, I would have given my left ear to go to boarding school! I was going to say that I was reading Enid Blyton and Mallory Towers at that age but I wasn't. I was actually reading Daphne Du Maurier and The Bronte Sisters.
The 'Other Animals' in the title does not refer to the pigs. It refers to a human being who has no social skills or grey matter at all. An old school friend of mine has a son in the forces. She is currently overseas with her husband and we keep in touch via Facebook. Her son went into a kebab shop in Portsmouth with a few mates last week. They were all wearing 'Help for Heroes' wristbands. They ordered and paid for their food and were chatting to the owner. He asked them what the wristbands were for and they duly explained what they were. The owner ordered them to leave the shop straight away, saying he thought the war was wrong and he wasn't going to serve them. ....
As you all know, I am a big supporter of our Armed Forces so what follows may be biased but I don't care. (I should also point out that there are 17,600, tri-service, serving personnel in GREAT BRITAIN. Of them, only 4,200 are English. Thanks for the information, John.) I feel utterly sick and bloody furious with this ignorant Fecker. If I lived there, I would bloody picket the place. The man has no brains and deserves to be publicly outed. Don't get me wrong, I advocate free speech and debate but to throw those guys out was an extreme and unwarranted action. There were 32 comments reacting to her post on Facebook, some of the more severe calling for him to be 'sent back to where he came from'. Hmmm....very scary how we can all revert to our most basic of instincts in times of trouble. Not very practical either as like it, or not, we have become a multicultural society. So, lets return to the 'Lead by Example' in an earlier blog and twist it a little. Make an 'example' of this individual. Name him, shame him and hit him where it hurts...his pocket! Simple but deadly.
Be Kind to each other
Muse x
PS Alistair, we are all very proud of you for doing a great job. Oh! and I still have the video of you at Sians second birthday party, how much is it worth mate ! :-)
Monday, 16 November 2009
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Violence and Vandals
I am tired, tired, tired tonight and blogging a little earlier than usual. It has been a bit of a traumatic week in the Muse household and not for the happiest of reasons. I have avoided blogging about it as I just wanted to move on and get over it. As usual, Mr S has given me food for thought and I need to get it out of my system so I CAN move on.
Tonights post is about vandalism and mindless violence and how it makes me feel physically sick to bear witness to it. What makes a person attack another for no apparent reason? Why are we even tolerating these people? Hmmm...questions I have to ask myself as I have been a victim of it this week.
Bonfire night arrived, cold and clear, perfect weather for watching the Fireworks. I didn't go, I hate the damn things and as far as I am concerned the best place to be on Bonfire Night is under the duvet with a torch and a good book. My kids are usually escorted to these events by their grandparents. That night, three cars parked outside my home (mine included) had their back windows smashed. I was bloody irritated when I discovered this the next morning. It had only been about a month since one of the council grass cutters had inadvertently put my side window in with a stone. However,it is only a car and not really worth getting too stressed about. I cleaned up the glass, battled howling gales to seal up the window and logged the incident with the police. I haven't heard anything from them thus far. Ce la vie...at least no one was hurt...or so I thought.
I live in a small market town in Cornwall and the news that followed that day was utterly shocking. On the night the vandals had been busy breaking glass, a firework had been put through the letterbox of a middle aged woman. The house went up in flames and whilst she heroically managed to get her 16 year old son out, she went back for her cats and lost her life. Awful, just awful and all because of a supposed prank? This was no prank. She was targeted. Her son has a learning disability and she was known to be victim of local thugs.
Yesterday the 11 year old (also fondly known as The Git) came in from school. He had been helped home by two friends. He was walking home in a daydream, as usual, when he was attacked by two boys in the same year as him. They smashed his head up against a fence post, kicked him to the ground and stabbed him in the hand with a compass. The two friends that helped him home were some way behind and witnessed this random and completely unprovoked attack. I am so angry that the moment I finally give him some personal freedom, two disgusting bullies are responsible for stealing his confidence. My heart breaks for my little boy.
The Git is pretty bruised and stressed, he has a sore head and is complaining of a ringing in his left ear. His hand has three wounds. Last night was difficult, he woke several times crying out for me. His friends have been bloody marvellous... bless their hearts. They were equally shocked and have been round several times to check on him.
My day has been spent dealing with his school and The Police. The school have reacted strongly and swiftly. Both boys have been excluded, they will decide whether to exclude them permanently when the police report comes in. The Police are sending an officer around tomorrow to take a statement from my son. All I can do is give him lots of love and reassurance and hope that this has not completely destroyed his new found self-reliance.
Deep breath! I heard today that 'The Washington Sniper' was executed in the early hours of this morning. An eye for an eye...The very thought makes me shudder. Are we any better than him if we kill another? Would I be any better than the bullies if I physically retaliated? What of the thugs that killed an innocent woman and orphaned her son? Three teenage suspects are being questioned as I write. Should we lock them in a house and set fire to it?
I cannot debate this with you, for the answer is simple to me. The answer is NO. We must lead by example. I, personally could not hurt another. I have the power of words to do that and I abhor physical violence. You will have to decide for yourselves.
Sorry the Blog has been a bit serious of late but shit happens and you have to deal with it.
Namaste
Muse x
Tonights post is about vandalism and mindless violence and how it makes me feel physically sick to bear witness to it. What makes a person attack another for no apparent reason? Why are we even tolerating these people? Hmmm...questions I have to ask myself as I have been a victim of it this week.
Bonfire night arrived, cold and clear, perfect weather for watching the Fireworks. I didn't go, I hate the damn things and as far as I am concerned the best place to be on Bonfire Night is under the duvet with a torch and a good book. My kids are usually escorted to these events by their grandparents. That night, three cars parked outside my home (mine included) had their back windows smashed. I was bloody irritated when I discovered this the next morning. It had only been about a month since one of the council grass cutters had inadvertently put my side window in with a stone. However,it is only a car and not really worth getting too stressed about. I cleaned up the glass, battled howling gales to seal up the window and logged the incident with the police. I haven't heard anything from them thus far. Ce la vie...at least no one was hurt...or so I thought.
I live in a small market town in Cornwall and the news that followed that day was utterly shocking. On the night the vandals had been busy breaking glass, a firework had been put through the letterbox of a middle aged woman. The house went up in flames and whilst she heroically managed to get her 16 year old son out, she went back for her cats and lost her life. Awful, just awful and all because of a supposed prank? This was no prank. She was targeted. Her son has a learning disability and she was known to be victim of local thugs.
Yesterday the 11 year old (also fondly known as The Git) came in from school. He had been helped home by two friends. He was walking home in a daydream, as usual, when he was attacked by two boys in the same year as him. They smashed his head up against a fence post, kicked him to the ground and stabbed him in the hand with a compass. The two friends that helped him home were some way behind and witnessed this random and completely unprovoked attack. I am so angry that the moment I finally give him some personal freedom, two disgusting bullies are responsible for stealing his confidence. My heart breaks for my little boy.
The Git is pretty bruised and stressed, he has a sore head and is complaining of a ringing in his left ear. His hand has three wounds. Last night was difficult, he woke several times crying out for me. His friends have been bloody marvellous... bless their hearts. They were equally shocked and have been round several times to check on him.
My day has been spent dealing with his school and The Police. The school have reacted strongly and swiftly. Both boys have been excluded, they will decide whether to exclude them permanently when the police report comes in. The Police are sending an officer around tomorrow to take a statement from my son. All I can do is give him lots of love and reassurance and hope that this has not completely destroyed his new found self-reliance.
Deep breath! I heard today that 'The Washington Sniper' was executed in the early hours of this morning. An eye for an eye...The very thought makes me shudder. Are we any better than him if we kill another? Would I be any better than the bullies if I physically retaliated? What of the thugs that killed an innocent woman and orphaned her son? Three teenage suspects are being questioned as I write. Should we lock them in a house and set fire to it?
I cannot debate this with you, for the answer is simple to me. The answer is NO. We must lead by example. I, personally could not hurt another. I have the power of words to do that and I abhor physical violence. You will have to decide for yourselves.
Sorry the Blog has been a bit serious of late but shit happens and you have to deal with it.
Namaste
Muse x
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Bloggers Beware
I have been talking to Mr S tonight about why we blog. As tired as I am, I have got to get this down on paper or should I say screen! He is writing about something similar tonight but from a different angle.
My biggest reason is the arm injury that has stopped me writing and I missed keeping my Journal so much. That said, Blogging is totally different form of Journal keeping. Writing a Journal is a private experience, you can say what you want, when you want, safe in the knowledge that it stays with you, at least until you go to your grave. I have read bits of my Journal to others but even those have been heavily censored, sharing only the tamest parts with them. I still maintain there is something very satisfying about beautiful suede bound creamy paper, just begging to be marked with a pen. I had no choice so here I am.
Mr S and I talked about this a few weeks ago, asking ourselves why we even bothered. I think you have to be a bit of a frustrated writer to start with. My Journal was my safe space, somewhere I could let my innermost feelings run free. Forget therapy of any sort, writing and recording events was better than telling any counsellor your thoughts, fears and dreams. Then on a lonely night awake (as usual) it was a place to go back and look at how you had dealt with certain things in your life.
I wandered happily onto Blogspot and was just relieved to be writing again. But I did not question the bigger picture and how different an experience it was until I had posted for about three weeks. I also posted a link to my Blog on FB, I did not even justify that, as I was always careful about who had access to my FB wall. It's a contrasting experience because by making your Blog public, even to a small number of people, you are opening up you private life, so it is inevitable that it must be somewhat sanitised. Then you ask yourself the question... why don't I just block my Blog to anyone apart from me? Hmmm....that is where I start to question the validity of my statement, 'I had no choice....'.
Lets go back to the frustrated writer in me. Every writer wants to be published and when you look at this at its most basic, it is a form of vanity publishing. Friends have encouraged me, egged me on after my first few posts and I loved that, yeah, I was at least giving others enjoyment. Then I got frustrated because I found myself not wanting to Blog if I did not have something positive to say. It has taken a while, and I am not completely comfortable with letting you into my most private moments but I have become more confident and hope to relax just a little more with it.
The Beware in the title is a warning to those that think their Blog is bomb proof and they can say exactly what they want, on any subject. As well as the usual libel laws, Blogs are now admissible as court evidence and are routinely being used as such. Oh, by the way, I am as guilty as the rest of using my Blog for propaganda purposes, as my recent posts regarding our Armed Forces show. On the plus side, it is an excellent way of staying in touch with your friends, soothing your ego and trying to give someone a smile. The Blogs out there are a fascinating insight into other peoples lives. One thing is for sure, it is highly addictive!
Be Kind to yourself
Muse x
My biggest reason is the arm injury that has stopped me writing and I missed keeping my Journal so much. That said, Blogging is totally different form of Journal keeping. Writing a Journal is a private experience, you can say what you want, when you want, safe in the knowledge that it stays with you, at least until you go to your grave. I have read bits of my Journal to others but even those have been heavily censored, sharing only the tamest parts with them. I still maintain there is something very satisfying about beautiful suede bound creamy paper, just begging to be marked with a pen. I had no choice so here I am.
Mr S and I talked about this a few weeks ago, asking ourselves why we even bothered. I think you have to be a bit of a frustrated writer to start with. My Journal was my safe space, somewhere I could let my innermost feelings run free. Forget therapy of any sort, writing and recording events was better than telling any counsellor your thoughts, fears and dreams. Then on a lonely night awake (as usual) it was a place to go back and look at how you had dealt with certain things in your life.
I wandered happily onto Blogspot and was just relieved to be writing again. But I did not question the bigger picture and how different an experience it was until I had posted for about three weeks. I also posted a link to my Blog on FB, I did not even justify that, as I was always careful about who had access to my FB wall. It's a contrasting experience because by making your Blog public, even to a small number of people, you are opening up you private life, so it is inevitable that it must be somewhat sanitised. Then you ask yourself the question... why don't I just block my Blog to anyone apart from me? Hmmm....that is where I start to question the validity of my statement, 'I had no choice....'.
Lets go back to the frustrated writer in me. Every writer wants to be published and when you look at this at its most basic, it is a form of vanity publishing. Friends have encouraged me, egged me on after my first few posts and I loved that, yeah, I was at least giving others enjoyment. Then I got frustrated because I found myself not wanting to Blog if I did not have something positive to say. It has taken a while, and I am not completely comfortable with letting you into my most private moments but I have become more confident and hope to relax just a little more with it.
The Beware in the title is a warning to those that think their Blog is bomb proof and they can say exactly what they want, on any subject. As well as the usual libel laws, Blogs are now admissible as court evidence and are routinely being used as such. Oh, by the way, I am as guilty as the rest of using my Blog for propaganda purposes, as my recent posts regarding our Armed Forces show. On the plus side, it is an excellent way of staying in touch with your friends, soothing your ego and trying to give someone a smile. The Blogs out there are a fascinating insight into other peoples lives. One thing is for sure, it is highly addictive!
Be Kind to yourself
Muse x
Monday, 9 November 2009
Sandstorms, Soldiers and My Son
I am supposed to be asleep. In fact, I am proverbially on my knees as have only managed about 6 hours in the the last 48! (No cheeky comments from you please Mr S!) I wanted this post to be uplifting and enlightening but sorry folks, just gotta get it out of my system.
Much of my sleeplessness and angst stems from today (actually 44 minutes into tomorrow as I write this) and of course Remembrance Sunday. Forgive me, whilst I dwell on it for a moment. I will try and make you smile later....honest.
I watched the ceremony at Camp Bastion very early this morning. Somehow, they had managed to gather about 2,000 troops (quite a 3 line whip!) and hold a simple but very poignant Remembrance Service. A sandstorm was threatening, the desert wind, stealing voices and the visibility low. The men and women stood, proud and straight in their dusty desert colours, cap badges displayed and faces grave and sombre. I wondered, whilst watching them, what was running through their minds. Fear, pride, sadness, thoughts of home and memories of funny lively guys, who, were no longer with them but at home, at peace, their lives tragically cut short.
Every one of those men and women feeling the force of that moment in time that we could not possibly imagine as civilians. I had a little tear as they sang, no music accompanying them just the hearty voice of the Chaplin and those roped into the hastily assembled choir. Forget all the pomp and ceremony of The Cenotaph. This beautiful and moving moment in time captured our hearts. Anyone who watched this live will agree with me.
One more thing, before I attempt to lighten the subject. Today is about remembering our Heroes. It is not about gaining political points and jumping on any band wagon that may pass. I am angry about Politicians and News Editors using it for their own gains. What easy, corpulent lives they lead. They disgust me.
Yesterday has passed into today as I write. My son, James also known as Harri is 22 today. I mentioned forces hospitals and their excellence in a previous blog. My son was born at RAF Wroughton in 1987. He has never given me a moments trouble in his 22 years but his birth was a very funny and surreal experience.
My then, husband and I were at RAF Brize Norton, living in dear old Carterton, Oxfordshire, existing amongst the Vicky 10's coming in from far climes and the Hercky Birds droning overhead. Very soothing for us forces brats. My father was serving a tour of Ascension Island at the time and I would regularly 'feed and bribe' flight crew to take emergency pork pies out to ASI for them. They were fairly keen, as most of them were single and I am a Cordon Bleu cook.
I telephoned mum on the 7th of November and said I thought I was in labour. My contractions stopped and I thought nothing more of it. We did not have the Internet back then and the phone was hideously expensive. Apparently, on hearing my news, Ma had jumped on a plane and had forgotten to mention it to me. Further complications came about when the stewardess (coz that is what they were called in those days) the gorgeous Ali Blindell (old school friend.....erm...small world) asked Ma if she was ok. Ma duly explained the situation and Ali (obviously being very capable, organized and going out with the pilot at the time!) went to the flight deck. What followed was hilarious. I was sat at home getting twinges and a pilot 36,000 feet above the Atlantic radioed in and asked Air Traffic Control to patch him through to RAF Wroughton! Feck! Some poor midwife putting her feet up at two in the morning had to deal with his radio call!
By the time I was admitted on the morning of the 9th of November (ma had flown in that morning) I was met by a welcoming committee of senior staff and midwives, all thinking I was a big noise, flown in from ASI. All very embarrassing! I was given an Officers 'Ladies' bed for the first night and as soon as they had checked me out, I was moved, very swiftly to the big ward where the lowly CPL's wives resided!
No matter. My beautiful son James was born at 5.38pm, after a 3 hour labour....fast asleep and he stayed that way for 24 hours. Hey....he was three weeks early and needed to rest a bit. I will never forget what my wristband said. W/O 244837835 CPL Harrison and James...S/O 244837835 CPL Harrison. No worries about hospital security in those days! Oh, and after lunch we were visited by a drop dead gorgeous PTI. He would take us through our 'post natal' exercises. I could not be bothered and he asked me 'If you are unable to manage the pelvic thrust Mrs Harrison, what the hell are you doing in here?' Bloody funny but cheeky!
Ali Blindell came to visit me a few days later on her next flight in. I was in my nightie and feeding James. Unfortunately we were unable to find her for the school reunion this year. James is in his last year at Uni and I am so proud of him. He is a fabulous camera man and has found his niche in life. My ex is working in Ghana and is fairly happy.
Peace to you all
Muse x
PS When my husband collected his 15 years of Undetected Crime Medal, the Brig who was presenting it said 'Fucking Hell Old Chap, you are more decorated than me!' Time we gave the wives some medals I think.
Much of my sleeplessness and angst stems from today (actually 44 minutes into tomorrow as I write this) and of course Remembrance Sunday. Forgive me, whilst I dwell on it for a moment. I will try and make you smile later....honest.
I watched the ceremony at Camp Bastion very early this morning. Somehow, they had managed to gather about 2,000 troops (quite a 3 line whip!) and hold a simple but very poignant Remembrance Service. A sandstorm was threatening, the desert wind, stealing voices and the visibility low. The men and women stood, proud and straight in their dusty desert colours, cap badges displayed and faces grave and sombre. I wondered, whilst watching them, what was running through their minds. Fear, pride, sadness, thoughts of home and memories of funny lively guys, who, were no longer with them but at home, at peace, their lives tragically cut short.
Every one of those men and women feeling the force of that moment in time that we could not possibly imagine as civilians. I had a little tear as they sang, no music accompanying them just the hearty voice of the Chaplin and those roped into the hastily assembled choir. Forget all the pomp and ceremony of The Cenotaph. This beautiful and moving moment in time captured our hearts. Anyone who watched this live will agree with me.
One more thing, before I attempt to lighten the subject. Today is about remembering our Heroes. It is not about gaining political points and jumping on any band wagon that may pass. I am angry about Politicians and News Editors using it for their own gains. What easy, corpulent lives they lead. They disgust me.
Yesterday has passed into today as I write. My son, James also known as Harri is 22 today. I mentioned forces hospitals and their excellence in a previous blog. My son was born at RAF Wroughton in 1987. He has never given me a moments trouble in his 22 years but his birth was a very funny and surreal experience.
My then, husband and I were at RAF Brize Norton, living in dear old Carterton, Oxfordshire, existing amongst the Vicky 10's coming in from far climes and the Hercky Birds droning overhead. Very soothing for us forces brats. My father was serving a tour of Ascension Island at the time and I would regularly 'feed and bribe' flight crew to take emergency pork pies out to ASI for them. They were fairly keen, as most of them were single and I am a Cordon Bleu cook.
I telephoned mum on the 7th of November and said I thought I was in labour. My contractions stopped and I thought nothing more of it. We did not have the Internet back then and the phone was hideously expensive. Apparently, on hearing my news, Ma had jumped on a plane and had forgotten to mention it to me. Further complications came about when the stewardess (coz that is what they were called in those days) the gorgeous Ali Blindell (old school friend.....erm...small world) asked Ma if she was ok. Ma duly explained the situation and Ali (obviously being very capable, organized and going out with the pilot at the time!) went to the flight deck. What followed was hilarious. I was sat at home getting twinges and a pilot 36,000 feet above the Atlantic radioed in and asked Air Traffic Control to patch him through to RAF Wroughton! Feck! Some poor midwife putting her feet up at two in the morning had to deal with his radio call!
By the time I was admitted on the morning of the 9th of November (ma had flown in that morning) I was met by a welcoming committee of senior staff and midwives, all thinking I was a big noise, flown in from ASI. All very embarrassing! I was given an Officers 'Ladies' bed for the first night and as soon as they had checked me out, I was moved, very swiftly to the big ward where the lowly CPL's wives resided!
No matter. My beautiful son James was born at 5.38pm, after a 3 hour labour....fast asleep and he stayed that way for 24 hours. Hey....he was three weeks early and needed to rest a bit. I will never forget what my wristband said. W/O 244837835 CPL Harrison and James...S/O 244837835 CPL Harrison. No worries about hospital security in those days! Oh, and after lunch we were visited by a drop dead gorgeous PTI. He would take us through our 'post natal' exercises. I could not be bothered and he asked me 'If you are unable to manage the pelvic thrust Mrs Harrison, what the hell are you doing in here?' Bloody funny but cheeky!
Ali Blindell came to visit me a few days later on her next flight in. I was in my nightie and feeding James. Unfortunately we were unable to find her for the school reunion this year. James is in his last year at Uni and I am so proud of him. He is a fabulous camera man and has found his niche in life. My ex is working in Ghana and is fairly happy.
Peace to you all
Muse x
PS When my husband collected his 15 years of Undetected Crime Medal, the Brig who was presenting it said 'Fucking Hell Old Chap, you are more decorated than me!' Time we gave the wives some medals I think.
Friday, 6 November 2009
Remembering The Lost Souls.
I have been dreading this post. I honestly thought that I could leave it until the eve of Remembrance Sunday. It seems not. My heart is breaking for the lost soldiers, 5 of ours 8 of theirs. Sorry, but that is how I feel about it.
Trying to think about politics but to be honest I am just angry.
Brown is an accountant, not a leader. Yeah, harsh words but true ones. Get off your Ass Brown and give our guys the kit and support they need. Not just in the field, but when they come home with serious physical and psychological injuries. As a 'Forces Brat', I enjoyed fantastic health care, right up to the birth of my second son, who is now 3 days short of his 22nd birthday. All the forces Hospitals that I knew as a child and a young woman are now closed.
The names Obama and Osama sit badly with me. What is the difference? Apparently, we are waiting for Obama to give us 'the nod'. Why?
We need to stand up for our troops, support them, give them what they need and stop being pulled around by powers that think they know better than us. We have the history, we have the know how and we need to stand up and be counted.
We may be a small Island but we have the knowledge and true grit to show others the way.
An emotive post, I know, but I am passionate in the belief that with our support our troops will win through, whatever the politics. We are the best and the most heartened and always will be.
Leaving you tonight with a poem from Rupert Brooke. I read a lot of his stuff before he went to war and he was 'happy'. Shame I cannot find it on the net. I still have my treasured volume of a young man going to war.
Brown is an accountant, not a leader. Yeah, harsh words but true ones. Get off your Ass Brown and give our guys the kit and support they need. Not just in the field, but when they come home with serious physical and psychological injuries. As a 'Forces Brat', I enjoyed fantastic health care, right up to the birth of my second son, who is now 3 days short of his 22nd birthday. All the forces Hospitals that I knew as a child and a young woman are now closed.
The names Obama and Osama sit badly with me. What is the difference? Apparently, we are waiting for Obama to give us 'the nod'. Why?
We need to stand up for our troops, support them, give them what they need and stop being pulled around by powers that think they know better than us. We have the history, we have the know how and we need to stand up and be counted.
We may be a small Island but we have the knowledge and true grit to show others the way.
An emotive post, I know, but I am passionate in the belief that with our support our troops will win through, whatever the politics. We are the best and the most heartened and always will be.
Leaving you tonight with a poem from Rupert Brooke. I read a lot of his stuff before he went to war and he was 'happy'. Shame I cannot find it on the net. I still have my treasured volume of a young man going to war.
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
Muse x
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
Insomnia Rules
Talking tonight about Insomnia. I have, so far, refused to admit I am an Insomniac but meeting Mr S has put a different slant on things and I must now hold my hands up and be counted. Mr S had counselled me about this but I am still reluctant to admit that I suffer. He is a true Insomniac, he gets up when others do but generally only sleeps between the hours of 3 am and 8am.
Me....hmmm... I am a bit more complicated than that. I am a 'Binge' Insomniac. I can do 48 hours without sleep and then I will fall over for 12 but this pattern repeats with me, again and again. Sometimes I go for 72 hours and manage to cope (note, I do not ever drive during this phase). So am I an Insomniac? or do I need to re-learn my sleeping habits?
I think I am scared of missing something. I do not normally watch TV nowadays but a few years ago, when I was still ensconced in the Green Eyed Monster, I drove myself mad, channel hopping as I thought I might be missing something! NOT! A DVD box that records has solved that, so where does that leave me?
I did try and re-learn my sleeping habits when in Hospital with a shattered elbow. The nurses were pretty fed up with me, as despite morphine, sleeping tablets, I could not sleep and give them peace to stand at their station and gossip. One nurse came up to me at 3 in the morning and asked me very gently if I was a drug addict!!!!!....I was in terrible pain and just cried in front of her. When I recovered I found her and explained to her that not everyone sleeps as she does. She was mortified and apologised to me.
In the wee small hours, there are not many like me and I am grateful to have found Mr S. I am not sure there is not any cure but meeting him has, at least, shown me that I am not alone.
Hope you are sleeping safe in your beds.
Muse x
Me....hmmm... I am a bit more complicated than that. I am a 'Binge' Insomniac. I can do 48 hours without sleep and then I will fall over for 12 but this pattern repeats with me, again and again. Sometimes I go for 72 hours and manage to cope (note, I do not ever drive during this phase). So am I an Insomniac? or do I need to re-learn my sleeping habits?
I think I am scared of missing something. I do not normally watch TV nowadays but a few years ago, when I was still ensconced in the Green Eyed Monster, I drove myself mad, channel hopping as I thought I might be missing something! NOT! A DVD box that records has solved that, so where does that leave me?
I did try and re-learn my sleeping habits when in Hospital with a shattered elbow. The nurses were pretty fed up with me, as despite morphine, sleeping tablets, I could not sleep and give them peace to stand at their station and gossip. One nurse came up to me at 3 in the morning and asked me very gently if I was a drug addict!!!!!....I was in terrible pain and just cried in front of her. When I recovered I found her and explained to her that not everyone sleeps as she does. She was mortified and apologised to me.
In the wee small hours, there are not many like me and I am grateful to have found Mr S. I am not sure there is not any cure but meeting him has, at least, shown me that I am not alone.
Hope you are sleeping safe in your beds.
Muse x
Monday, 2 November 2009
The Power of Music
It is late or perhaps early, dependant where you are in the world. I cannot sleep, but no matter as I have had an excellent evening.... on my own. The Git sleeping safe, a warm fire, scented candles and me catching up on some songs I have not listened to for years. More in a minute.
The power of Music is unbelievable. Organised Religion sets my own teeth on edge ( hey, each to their own) but Music....now that is a freedom that every one of us has from an early age. We are (or used to be) taught Hymns at school (Lord of the Dance), silly songs that our fathers sang (You are my Sunshine), Brownie/Cub songs (Kookaburra ....yeah, you are all swearing at me, so I won't give you the full title as you will sing it all day tomorrow!) Ad infinitum. Tears in my eyes now as when we grow up we can't sing in public, only in the shower or the car. Actually I am not allowed to sing in the car as The Git has the gift of perfect pitch and shouts at me when I do.....spoilsport.
Why don't we sing more, why don't we get together and sing our hearts and worries out? It is such a blast to sing out loud and free. The western world frowns upon singing. Other cultures know better and they sing throughout their adult lives. It is about time we bloody did. Doesn't matter what you sing, just do your best and have fun.
I don't usually watch the Green Eyed Monster that most of you know as Television. My grandfather, Samuel, was one of the very first TV Engineers and always told me that unless TV was used to educate, it would be the drug of the masses. I think I was about 9 or 10 at the time. How right he was. Sorry digressing again! What I meant to say was I loved watching The Choir programmes (one about teaching inner city kids to sing, the other a competition). My point is that you do not need to worship any God, Church or other to be able to stick on a pair of headphones or whack the volume up and SING! You never know it might just unwind you a bit and pull you back to that place in your heart.
That is exactly what happened to me tonight. Headphones on and volume up! I started with Hallelujah by Jeff Beck then somehow it morphed into Eric Clapton and Stevie Winwood singing, Had To Cry Today, Presence Of The Lord, Georgia On My Mind and Cocaine. On it went ,Led Zep with Stairway to Heaven and Kashmir, which somehow led me neatly into George Harrison. My Sweet Lord and Here Comes The Sun, among others.
John Lennon was next. Fabulous writer and musician. Shame he had a large thumb print in middle of forehead! Listened to about an hour of his stuff and of course the song 'Woman' came up. Playing it brought back some wonderful memories for me. Sweet sixteen and a dalliance with a fairly famous older man, known to many in Cyprus. All very innocent. Sweet kisses, lots of respect and true friends. When he returned to the UK he sent me a record. That record was 'Woman' and I was heartbroken he had left me without a backward glance. Back in London in the 80's we met and finally came together. A perfect six months between us, where we shared our souls. He has gone to another place now and I miss him. Ever the romantic...that's me!
Finally back to my roots. Yep. Van The Man. Thirteen years old and 'Into The Mystic' blew me away. Had a lot of fun listening to him tonight. Funny really as I never listen to him now because his songs bring so much of my past back to me and sometimes that is hard.
So former old schoolies out there and all you 'Gypsy Souls'....I will attempt a link to a wonderful and beautiful cover of the song.....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAft9O0Lsss&feature=related
I hope it works as I am IT incontinent. His name is Lukas Grant.
I'm tired but happy tonight.
Stay strong and true to yourselves and Bloody Sing!
Muse x
PS Mr S. Your last post was lovely but I could not comment on it for some reason. Big Hugs. Muse xx
The power of Music is unbelievable. Organised Religion sets my own teeth on edge ( hey, each to their own) but Music....now that is a freedom that every one of us has from an early age. We are (or used to be) taught Hymns at school (Lord of the Dance), silly songs that our fathers sang (You are my Sunshine), Brownie/Cub songs (Kookaburra ....yeah, you are all swearing at me, so I won't give you the full title as you will sing it all day tomorrow!) Ad infinitum. Tears in my eyes now as when we grow up we can't sing in public, only in the shower or the car. Actually I am not allowed to sing in the car as The Git has the gift of perfect pitch and shouts at me when I do.....spoilsport.
Why don't we sing more, why don't we get together and sing our hearts and worries out? It is such a blast to sing out loud and free. The western world frowns upon singing. Other cultures know better and they sing throughout their adult lives. It is about time we bloody did. Doesn't matter what you sing, just do your best and have fun.
I don't usually watch the Green Eyed Monster that most of you know as Television. My grandfather, Samuel, was one of the very first TV Engineers and always told me that unless TV was used to educate, it would be the drug of the masses. I think I was about 9 or 10 at the time. How right he was. Sorry digressing again! What I meant to say was I loved watching The Choir programmes (one about teaching inner city kids to sing, the other a competition). My point is that you do not need to worship any God, Church or other to be able to stick on a pair of headphones or whack the volume up and SING! You never know it might just unwind you a bit and pull you back to that place in your heart.
That is exactly what happened to me tonight. Headphones on and volume up! I started with Hallelujah by Jeff Beck then somehow it morphed into Eric Clapton and Stevie Winwood singing, Had To Cry Today, Presence Of The Lord, Georgia On My Mind and Cocaine. On it went ,Led Zep with Stairway to Heaven and Kashmir, which somehow led me neatly into George Harrison. My Sweet Lord and Here Comes The Sun, among others.
John Lennon was next. Fabulous writer and musician. Shame he had a large thumb print in middle of forehead! Listened to about an hour of his stuff and of course the song 'Woman' came up. Playing it brought back some wonderful memories for me. Sweet sixteen and a dalliance with a fairly famous older man, known to many in Cyprus. All very innocent. Sweet kisses, lots of respect and true friends. When he returned to the UK he sent me a record. That record was 'Woman' and I was heartbroken he had left me without a backward glance. Back in London in the 80's we met and finally came together. A perfect six months between us, where we shared our souls. He has gone to another place now and I miss him. Ever the romantic...that's me!
Finally back to my roots. Yep. Van The Man. Thirteen years old and 'Into The Mystic' blew me away. Had a lot of fun listening to him tonight. Funny really as I never listen to him now because his songs bring so much of my past back to me and sometimes that is hard.
So former old schoolies out there and all you 'Gypsy Souls'....I will attempt a link to a wonderful and beautiful cover of the song.....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAft9O0Lsss&feature=related
I hope it works as I am IT incontinent. His name is Lukas Grant.
I'm tired but happy tonight.
Stay strong and true to yourselves and Bloody Sing!
Muse x
PS Mr S. Your last post was lovely but I could not comment on it for some reason. Big Hugs. Muse xx
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