Pensioners Party

I am now officially a state pensioner. I never thought I'd live to see the day. I feel very grown up.
I have several 'thank you notes' to write. In particular one to an old school friend who sent me a watercolour of 3 fancy goldfish. It was a real surprise. I have admired many of her works since I discovered her website.

We first met age 7 years in infant school. We had just moved into the area. She thought I looked 'strange' or 'interesting' (I'm not sure which) and followed me home from school. Apparently I took the long way round. She lived towards the bottom of my road and I at the top end. We were inseparable until we had to leave school and join the world of work. Marriage and various moves around the country mean we see each other rarely. But this year to celebrate our becoming pensioners we hope to meet up in Worthing to party together.

Thank you Marion. It was a lovely surprise gift.

Pauline Prescott

Much has been written in various articles on Pauline Prescott since the nation heard her speak on her husband's TV special on the class system. I'm not a fan of John Prescott. It's only since I read so much about Pauline in the media I decided to watch the repeat of the programme to decide for myself. The press articles are absolutely spot on. She's wonderful. I'd love to pop in and have cup of tea and chat with her.

I consider myself working class. Well, my father thought of himself as working class and I am my father's daughter. Both my father and uncle were stewards in the merchant service. They joined at the age of 16 . To 'do their bit for the war'. They met during training on the training ship in Sharpness Docks, Gloucestershire. They always enjoyed reminiscing and regaling the younger generation with their tales of life at sea.

My father eventually met and married my uncle's sister. And my uncle married my father's sister. At a double wedding in 1948. A close knit family this marriage halved the number of aunts and uncles available to their offspring.

Unlike John Prescott the two of them were proud of their days at sea. I think Prescott gives working class people 'bad press'. Whatever his origins he's just full of envy, twisted bitterness and is lacking in self esteem. How he managed to win the hand of his 'fair lady' I'll never know.

Penny Pincher

After a tightfisted 8 years living off our retirement capital I've become rather used to Penny Pinching. Perhaps I should change my blogging name to Penny Pincher. I could re invent myself. That's the beauty of the blogging life. But however much one tries to write as if this is a fictional account real life creeps in. It's hard to keep it out.

Over the last few months I've become much better off. It started last year with being granted, on compassionate grounds, my work pension several years early. I wasn't due to receive it till I was 65. Once my pension came in I was able to cash in my AVC pension. Finally I've been awarded a Carer's Allowance. With several months arrears. Such riches.

Just at the time the whole world appears to be going into financial meltdown I appear to be bucking the trend. Hooray.

Now Swiftly Moving On . .

When I started this Blog I was very unhappy. Looking back I can see I was more depressed than I realised. Suffering from unresolved grief through many bereavements over a 3-year period. The loss of my 2 very old cats compounded that feeling of bereavement so severe I lost sight of myself for a while. It was only my recent attendance at two funerals that made me realise that I no longer feel emotionally overwhelmed. I still feel sad but it is no longer an all enveloping sadness.

I've been reading 'The Book of Happiness' . It is helping me to focus. It defined the difference in the feelings of sadness and unhappiness. "Sadness is a part of life and we experience it as a result of life's events . . ."! Well I have had plenty of those of the last few years. Ithas been energy sapping. Now I am trying to come to terms with those events and 'move on'.

To move on I need to make several changes. We moved into our present house [1999] from a larger 4 bedroom house. As it was a sudden move we didn't have time to de-clutter. We just packed up and moved with more stuff than we needed. We were going to expand into the roof here with a loft conversion. It was going to be my husband's home office. Suddenly our circumstances changed and he no longer needed a home office. We never did the loft conversion. Meanwhile the spare bedroom and garage held all his office papers, tax and VAT files, etc .

To move on we need to de-clutter. We have sold all the office furniture. My husband is slowly trawling through paperwork, archiving financial information and shredding personal client papers. It's a slow process. We also need to make a decision on life changes about where we will live out our retirement years. Home is very important to me. I need to feel settled, rooted, in order to regain my equilibrium. I love it here and so it adds to my feelings of sadness on thinking of leaving. But it is not suitable for our situation now. My husband now has a strong desire to move elsewhere. We just don't know where yet. It needs to be somewhere less hilly.

We are also trying to sort out a new car. Just normal activities but very time consuming and demanding. Especially when trying to make decisions with someone who doesn't feel at all able or capable of making decisions. I'm pressing on as I don't feel we can waste time. I've reached the age where time seems to gallop by at an alarming pace.

I've missed posting a regular blog. . . .. this is just a short note to let you know why I haven't had time to call by to meet up with you and chat at yours on a regular basis.

A Right Royal Garden Party

I was looking forward to attending a party this week. Until the weather changed for the better. I'd been looking forward to an indoor party. But with the change in the weather it changed to a garden party. Except that it was so hot and sunny most wanted to remain indoors in the shade.

Shade there was a plenty but it was hotter in than out. The huge conservatory heated the already scorching air and shepherded it in thorugh the french doors into the lounge. It was like sitting next to a huge glass Aga. The wine didn't help. It just enhanced the rosey glow on everyone's cheeks. The ice melted before it had chance to chill the drinks clasped in our hot little hands. Sandwiches and cakes began to wilt.

A few of the hardier guests [who took holidays in exotic locations] with skin like crisp brown leather, sat outdoors on the sunbaked south facing patio under the scant protection of one sun shade.

Late in the afternoon as the sun slowly sank those of us timid pale skinned folk who had already survived skin cancer or malignant melanoma ventured out to partake of the slightly cooler air. A lovely fresh 80+* F rather than 100+*F indoors. The house bricks emitting all the days stored radiation as if from a baker's oven.

By this time even the hardy brownites wanted to keep in the shade. We all huddled together at the end of the patio - squeezing up close in a friendly manner to share the measly amount of precious shade. Like penguins on an ever decreasing ice flow. Someone suggested the sun shade could be tilted to provide a bit more shade but as soon as it was tilted it caught the slightest breeze and swung like a gib to the east. Hauled back to the west someone kindly sat there with his arm up to hold it in place. Then with the next breeze it billowed like a spinnaker and slowly toppled dragging the patio table and wine glasses with it. Jim the host leapt to attention from his sun drowsed slumber and made an athletic lunge. Anchoring the table down before it hit the deck. So there we sat us ladies, with Jim clutching the table and Mark holding on to the sunshade.

The breeze dropped and the heat stored in the house walls began to leach into our small shady spot. We all started to glow. I suggested we all move the table, chairs and ourselves a few feet across the patio into the shade cast by the house as the sun continued on its westerly dip. Nobody picked me up on the idea. I repeated it in a louder voice. Still no response. I shut up. maybe it was too close to that giant Aga of a glasshouse.

I thought that if only I had been a traveller and visited South Africa or Ayers Rock then I wouldn't be so affected by a hot English summer evening. But no, Jim later confessed that it had been far too hot for him too and he'd lived for many years in Australia.

Do you Agree With Me?...

I have this hanging in my kitchen - a warning to any who dare to disagree with me. If she had glasses she would look just like me.

Tags and Meme

Way back when - so long ago now I expect she has forgotten all about it - teeni - tagged me to share 7 random or weird bits of information about myself with my readers/blurkers or virtual friends. Finally I have managed to put my mind to this engrossing task. Here are my confessional 7:

1. I have no ankles. By that I mean although I have shapely [according to my husband] legs my ankles are pudgy and weak. I wish I had boney ankles with a taut visible Achilles tendons. I have to wear sensible shoes when all I crave are high heel scrappy strappy expensive things.
2. My legs - shapely or not - take up more than half my height. I have a small squat body. I can't wear a dress I look far too funny with the waist up under my boobs - so tight around my ribs I can't breathe. I should have made my own dresses so that I could place the waist where it is rather than where dressmakers think it should be.
3. I am by nature an optimist and look at the world through rose tinted specs; believing the best of everyone I meet. However, having a met a lot of people, I do keep a healthy scepticism.
4. I will help anyone but will not allow anyone to 'take advantage'. I believe that God helps those who help themselves. I always try to see the best in people and make allowances for the fact that we all have our own selfish need to get through life the best way we can.
5. I am an imaginative dreamer. I could lose hours in my own thoughts and day dreams - given the chance.
6. I wish I had been a teacher. If we have a second life I will train to be a teacher - juniors 7 - 11 year olds - when they are full of curiosity and imagination.
7. I am opinionated and could run the world far better than any politician - other than the lovely amusing , Boris Johnson that is.

Now for the meme, here are the rules:

Link to the person who tagged you. Post the rules on your blog. Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog. Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.

Unfortunately as I am still suffering from/ recovering from this flu type bug along with nursing my husband through it too (He claims he feels far worse than I did/do!) I do not have time to tag 7 people. If you would like to pick up the challenge and do this meme then please pick up the flame and carry it forth proudly. But do let me know via a comment so that I can come over to your place to blurk a look.

Birthday Treat

Today was my 59th birthday. Well yesterday to be precise. I see it is now 12.45 a.m.as I write so I should have said 'yesterday was my birthday'. But as I've not slept yet I still count it as today. so .....

Today was my 59th birthday. How did I celebrate? You may well ask. I had an extra dose of cough medicine and plenty of decongestants thoughout the day in an endeavour to maintain breathing function. Next to eating it is my favourite activity. I allowed myself a break from a sensible diet and purchased a jam doughnut from the village baker. The texture was interesting. I don't know if it had any flavour. The decongestants don't work that well.

I had several cards and gifts but felt too tired to open them till 4 p.m. A strange birthday. And stranger still to think that this time next year I'll be 60 and a pensioner with a bus pass.

I am very tired after a week of coughing more than sleeping most nights. I feel as if could sleep for a week. But the decongestants have me all wired up...

Noisy Neighbours

Apart from the Rookery at the top of our garden we have quiet neighbours. But Rooks do make rather noisy neighbours. There is a small copse at the top of our rear garden. It contains a fair sized Rookery. It increases in numbers yearly. I've lived with Rooks for nearly 27 years - from Gloucestershire to Devon. I rarely notice their chatter. Visitors find them noisy and distracting. Especially when we are having a garden tea party. I love having them around. They are far less of a distraction than a passing plane or an air sea rescue helicopter clattering overhead. I'm glad to say there are not as many as was shown recently on a BBC television programme.

I can see the rookery from my kitchen window so am aware of thier daily goings on. I don't know what it is but something makes them suddenly swirl up in the air with a clamour of calls, wheel about for a while then settle back on the perches. I usually notice the movement first then I hear the sound. On reading this article I see it may predict weather patterns; I'll have to try and see if it does fit with this observation during this year.

The raucous calls, the arguments, disputes and gossiping chatter. No wonder the collective nouns for rooks are Parliament, Building or Clamour. The make fascinating neighbours. Always industrious they are invariably repairing or rebuilding their nests. Sometimes their chatter continues intermittently throughout the night. Less so in the cold depths of midwinter nights.

Now behind the copse of trees at the top of our garden there are many arable fields. These fields are always full of feeding rooks during the day. But not from 'our' rookery. No our rooks fly off each morning in a north easterly direction. They cross paths with rooks flying in from a north westerly direction to feed in the fields behind us. Rooks commute. Single rooks also have an odd way of flying. As we live almost at the top of a hill we get to see many individual birds flying towards us at eye level. Rooks have a strange sideways flight. They rarely seem to fly from A to B in a direct manner. They seem to flap their wings, looking left and right as they fly and travel at a drifting angle. It's very hard to predict exactly where they intend to go. In spring when they are carrying large twigs back to the nest they often drop them just short and our garden rapidly becomes littered with very large twigs.

A Personal Experience

I started blogging for many reasons. Initially it was a way of finding out how the technical side of blogging worked. I experimented with Yahoo 360 but quickly migrated to Blogger. In the early days I was alarmed at the thought of being identified or 'found out'. So I invented a Pen Name for myself. I had the idea of writing outrageously about the the good people who live in East Devon, my husband, the health services, social services and many other things that I found increasingly irritating in daily life. In short I wanted to Blog as a Grumpy Old Woman.

But once my anonymous blog was set up, the bland postings started and I quickly found that I couldn't quite stick the knife in where I wanted or as I imagined. What I did find, however, was that while I was at a particularly low ebb [with the Winter Blues and general frustration caused by our sudden enforced retirement] I had inadvertently discovered that I could post about some of my feelings. I could let off some steam. Blow my top. Whinge. Luckily, my husband was quite content for me to sound off about how his illness has affected me. After all with a pen name and vague address there is no way of identifying us. Close friends and family recognise my blog when, and if, they find it. But there's no problem with that as we have been quite open with everyone who matters to us.

Some people write because they are born writers. They take the opportunity to write fiction and receive feedback from readers. Others just want to have fun and socialise. Others want to voice political opinions. Some for a way to spread around their sense of humour. And some of us as a means of distraction. To divert our minds from our worries .

Now from my blogroll I usually call in on everyone on a regular basis. Some people once a fortnight, some once a week and others on a daily basis. The bloggers who make me laugh are the ones I call in on daily. My favourites are linked to my home page by the RSS feed so i can quickly see if they've posted very recently - well that's how it's supposed to work but it seems a little unreliable. I've sometimes found a new post is up there when I call in on their blog yet my homepage says 'last posted 3 days ago'.

Besides the writers who make me laugh are one or two who start to feel like 'friends' - rather like old fashioned pen pals. Now one of these cyber friends is Teeni of the Vauguetarian Tearooms. Her place is a general have a cup of coffee and hang out for a while to see what'll happen next kind of place. It's all lighthearted and fun. Imagine my surprise when I found a rather sombre posting from her a few days ago. I admit I read it very quickly and then quietly left. I was low spirited at the time and didn't feel able to comment. But once I was in a better mood I called back to see her. I wanted to explain that I was somewhat aware of how her feelings must be when she was diagnosed and had to undergo treatment for cancer.

I too had cancer diagnosed at a young age. I was lucky in that it was found early and surgery was the only treatment I needed. I was thirty when on a visit to the optician to be assessed for contact lens he quickly identified that I had a malignant tumour in my left eye. He didn't tell me this - he just referred me to see my doctor who had very quickly made an appointment for me to see the local ophthalmic surgeon. My feet barely touched the ground. From seeing the optician I had seen the local specialist, been referred to Moorfields' Eye Hospital for a second opinion and was back in Gloucester Royal Hospital to have my left eye removed - all within less than 3 weeks.

I was 30 years of age and it was a bit of a shock to find that I had malignant melanoma. Luckily the surrounding tissue of the eye was healthy. It had been found and removed in a timely manner. The adjustment to monocular vision took a while. But adjust I did. Although I still find it difficult to walk over rough ground; with no depth of vision it does pose a challenge.

Now having been lucky enough to survive that episode I am rather paranoid about how much time I spend in the sun. I slap on sun protection so thick I look like a greased up channel swimmer. I'm never out in the sun between 11 - 3. But as I don't want rickets or osteoporosis either I do allow 30 minutes a day of sun to get to my skin as often as I can during spring and autumn.

It's for this reason that I believe I need a light box. Ever since I lost my eye 28 years ago today I've experienced a feeling of gloom which descends from October onwards. Initially I used to blame the 'anniversary' for reminding me of my mortality and lack of binocular vision. It was my least short sighted eye - almost normal vision' -too which was the real **** law of life. When I had to rely on my right eye only I was so shortsighted I had to become a permanent specs wearer. I was also told it would help to disguise my artifical eye. So I never did get fitted for that contact lens.

Now if we do indeed rely on needing bright light to keep us cheerful then with my desire to keep a low profile during hot, sunny summers and with only one eye to take in the light it could be why I experience the winter blues. I also read that Gordon Brown may be a depressive s**t too. Maybe that's because he also is blind in one eye. Perhaps I should write and suggest he buys himself a lightbox to go along with his red boxes.

Now some of you'll know why one of my most often used emoticon is a ;-) - it doesn't always represent a wink!

Finally, I would like to suggest that if you haven't had your eyesight checked out for more than a couple of years then do so. You never know what signal of ill health may be lurking there. A quick visit to the optician may save your life.

Sorry - technical hitch - I was trying to write an updated note. However, Blogger suddenly changed the date of the post from original - I wrote this on 29/10 - there is no way it will let me put it back in its rightful place. I'm hoping its back there now - ?

Panic Attacks in the North

Panic Attacks appear to be catching. The news is full of people queueing to get their money out of Northern Rock bank. They can't see that to demand their money back now will cause even more mayhem. I heard Angela Knight on the Today programme this morning. Now unlike her last appearance on that programme when she really got up my nose, this morning I thought she sounded calm, caring and reassuring. However, no matter who they haul out to speak on the TV/radio about Northern Rock Bank security I can't help thinking 'well, they would say that wouldn't they'.

I must admit to being not entirely calm - I've had few palpitations and extra trips to the loo - as NR bank is my chosen institution for the large majority of my savings. They have been the most efficient bank I've dealt. I hope they are able to turn this situation around and calm my beating heart.

Update: 17/9/07 at 4.15 am. http://www.moneysavingexpert.com/banking/Northern-Rock-Crisis

Panic Attacks

I was reading Flowerpot's posting on panic attacks earlier. It's a strange thing to have to cope with to be sure. I have often wondered whether panic attacks are caused by some kind of hormonal imbalance.

My little sister used to suffer them (so I believe, with hindsight) as a teenager. She could not bear to be in large airless stores and would often rush out after 15 minutes of shopping. I always thought it most strange of her. She grew out of the problem at some point and has not shown any such signs of discomfort after becoming a mother.

I first experienced a panic attack standing in a queue at a supermarket checkout. I thought I was about to faint. My heart started to race, a hot flush overwhelmed me and I felt I couldn't get enough air. I contemplated rushing out for fresh cool air. But part of my sensible pragmatic brain wondered whether this could be a 'panic attack'. I knew that if it was I shouldn't react or the next occasion I would feel the need to take the same action. I stood there and rode the storm. Deep breathing exercises and thinking coolly about how I felt and wondering why? I'm glad I didn't take the strong urge to flee. These attacks occurred frequently in queues. Rarely while I was hauling a supermarket trolley around but always while I had to stand in a queue. I remember once being so distracted by how I was feeling that I almost became a blatant shoplifter. My groceries were on the belt but before the checkout girl could scan the goods I started to collect it together again and pack it away. Oooh - we did Laff. I'm just relieved she didn't call the store detective. I've never fancied the idea of a body search.

Now it was only reading Flower's post that I remembered these attacks. They must have started for me just as I entered the pre-menopause stage. I'm not quite sure that I can think of the last one ... but I'm not aware of any for a 2-3years. Obviously from Flower's observations my natural inclination to take deep slow breaths helped. So next time, if I have them again, I'll try singing. It sounds much more fun.

Early Rising

I was awake very early this morning - 5.30. I'd just had a dream of our cat - Lacey. She was fussing and purring around me as she often did when she thought it was time I should wake and feed her. It was a very comforting dream I thought how fine she appeared even though I knew she was now dead. I suppose this was my brain's way of letting me know I've come to terms with being in a pet free zone. The trouble is that as we have no children our pets over the years were child substitutes. I did invest a great deal of emotional energy into them - especially the 2 cats. Cagney and Lacey were with us for almost 20 years - a lot of love builds in that time.

Name Game MeMe

Teeni who likes to keep us all on our toes tagged me for the Name Game meme.

These are the “official” rules ( cut and pasted)

• Players must list one fact, word, or tidbit that is somehow relevant to their life for each letter of your first or middle name.
  
• When you are tagged you need to write your own post containing your first or middle name game facts, word, or tidbit.
  
• At the end of your post choose one person for each letter of your name to tag.
  
• Don’t forget to leave a comment telling them that they have been tagged, and to read your blog.
  
• If I’ve tagged YOU (see below), please join in on the fun!

P represents Pink - my favourite colour for blogs [in fact all shades of red]. I frequently turn pink when I blush. When in a crowd I have a quick, bawdy, sarcastic wit. I make people laugh. Sometimes words will escape before I've thought through the consequences - then I start to blush - especailly when someone comes back with a bawdier rejoinder.

E stands for Escapism - a chance to dream, reminisce and write about whatever comes into my head. I love the chance to take time to just sit and dream while looking at the garden.

N for Name - Penny is my 'pen name' - I still have this horror of imagining all friends and acquaintances in East Devon leaping from behind the trees to confront me for some entry I posted on my blog.

N for Not being brave enough to write under my real name ... but then I'm only trying to protect the innocent - my man, my friends, my family.

Y is for You - all of you out there who read this - this blog of what sometimes only amounts to vague mementos of life, the occasional rage, whinge, irritable whisper of waspish humour. I know I do have some really improtant message to impart - it's just that at the moment I'm so tired I've forgotten what it is....

Now to pass the baton to some bloggers who I feel have a more honest approach to blogging and/or a definite style of blog.

1. Merryw
2. Mopsa
3. Flowerpot
4. Rilly Super
5. Glamourpuss or Glamourpuss the clairvoyant

All I have to do now - is get some tea and then run round to deliver the invites. meanwhile if any of you do happen to drop in please collect and carry forward

Sunday Stroll

Well, we managed to get out a bit earlier this morning. Now that I've no dog to take on walks with me I take my husband instead. The only trouble is he's nowhere near as much fun as a dog. So I walk along watching other people exercise their dogs instead. Seeing these 2 black labs swimming off Sidmouth beach this morning reminded me of how much Velvet used to love a swim. Sometimes she would just leap in and paddle away, on and on, as if she was planning to emigrate to Spain. Once she leapt off an embankment wall into a river; she then couldn't get out again. We had to walk about a mile downriver till we could reach her and haul her back onto dry land. I've bought myself a step counter for the days I go out walking alone. Or I may have to set up a small business as a dog walker . Twenty years ago we had an Irish Setter. He was a bit of a rogue dog. A fine looking dog and most people wanted to fuss him. But he was always on the verge of 'biting'. I could never trust him. We used to have to go out at the first crack of dawn to give him a good run. At a time when hardly any other poeple around. He didn't like people, children, cats or other dogs. He was a real handful. And yet in other asspects he was beautifully trained - if I say so myself - well , he was, I did a good job. It was a heartbreaking decision but at the age of 8 we had to put him down - I wasn't sure I even trusted him not to go for me in the end.

Life Goes On ...

Well there have been a few gloomy, introverted posts recently. I'm blaming it on the lack of sleep and August through to October being full of sad memories. Added to which I experience SAD which has not been helped this summer which has been more dreary than usual. Although I am now revelling in this indian summer I may have to invest in a light box to get me through the winter. I've started to take St John's Wort again which I usually only take during the darkest winter months.

However, I saw this in a newspaper today and thought it was bizarre beyond belief. I feel this is carrying grief beyond what is reasonable. I don't know what your thoughts are.

Now I'm picking up a bottle and am off to visit teeni to see what mad idea she has for another party. What would we do without friends to keep us on the right track? ....

Mothers - How We Miss Them

When I wrote recently about Fear and Grief and Fearing the Worst - it set my mind to wondering about some of our friends. Everyone I know has experienced loss and sadness in their life. (Well, you'll see by the very next sentence that's a bit of a contradiction). I have 2 friends who have suffered nothing. Neither one of them has had to cope with loss, fear, major illness, grief. Even though they are well over 60 years old they still have parents. Their children have grown up happy, confident, secure and found partners; married and are now raising the next generation. Both families have been incredibly blessed.

Good Friends for Good Times. Not people I choose to be around when I feel cocooned and trapped in a glass bubble of grief. They neither of them understand what it is like. I sometimes wonder how hard an experience it will be when they do, eventually have it thrust upon them.

It's the natural order of life to lose parents first. I lost my mother when I was 16. I still miss her. I'm still taken by surprise when I talk to women older than I and discover they still have their mother. I remember an old lady of 80 telling me she was "now an orphan" when her mother had just died. She was not quite as I imagine an orphan - but I know how she felt.

Man's Best Friend

I am trying to re-dress the balance re dogs. I do seem to have a rather cat heavy blog here. I have just been to visit some of my pen pals and I see that Clever Dick claims not to be a dog fancier. But as he only appears to have come across waltzing or tap dancing dogs then it's not surprising. I would have thought he'd enjoy the slavish devotion from a dog. After all they do say a dog is a man's best friend.

I thought I'd trawl the net and look for a site to add to my blog roll to balance the Cool Cat's Blog: George online. Then I found this Give a Dog a Home Blog. I'm wondering whether we could take on another house pet. I believe the perfect home includes, an Aga , a pantry, a cat and dog. I don't have an Aga or a pantry, but ....... I started to trawl through the site looking at all the dogs that need a home. And then I found this beautiful lady - Sky - and I'm in love. I'll go to sleep on it .... I want to let my heart rule my head but ..... tomorrow I may revel in a clean and tidy house and decide to let my head rule my heart.

I'll just have to ask myself do I want a perfectly clean and tidy house or do I want a home?

Fearing the Worst

My post on Fear and Grief the other day set me to thinking about how and why I often 'waste' time - worrying over the 'what if' scenarios. I am always prepared for the worst to happen. This can be an annoying and a stressful waste of time. But I have been told that I am good in an emergency. People like having me around as they feel I am a calming influence. I keep a cool calm head when all about me are in a panic. I don't panic. I'm decisive. I quickly gather the facts and decide what line of action to take. Because I've been there - in my imagination. Thought the worst. Worked out how best to deal with it. I have had practise. Even if I feel the fear too I don't show it. Deadpan Annie, that's me.

I remember once when MyMan was late home from work. A 200 mile drive. Our young 12 year old niece was visiting. She and I had a film video on. Something she found really absorbing. But I found it scary. So I avoided watching some of the time. I averted my gaze from time to time. Looked out the window every now and then. Saw a police car pull up outside. A Policeman and a Policewoman. This was in the days when WPC's were sent out to pass on the bad news or to help mothers and/or children in distress, domestic cases. I was sure they had come to tell me BAD news. Sure that MyMan had been involved in an accident. I left the room to put the kettle on and get the tea things out of the cupboard. I knew they would want me to have a cuppa for the shock. I didn't like to think of them having to forage for everything for themselves in a strange kitchen. I am thoughtful of others feelings.

I'd made the pot of tea and still no knock at the door. I started to plan how to care for niece. How to get to the hospital if MyMan was in fact a survivor. I also started to make long terms plans if I was now a widow. Well, by long term, I mean the funeral and what to wear. Still no knock at the door so I had a peek through the window again. Saw then they were inspecting a newly built house just down the road. They did in fact buy it. Mr and Mrs PC moved in to become neighbours a few months later.

I returned to the film and enjoyed the pot of tea. Wondering when my travelling husband was going to get home for supper. At least nowadays mobile phones help us to keep in contact with reasons for late arrivals.

Fear and Grief

From where does the fear of loss come? What comes first? The fear or the feeling of loss which then sets up the fear? When do we first experience the concept of grief and loss? I can remember as a quite young child (about 6yrs) contemplating the grief I would leave behind if I died. I wept for my poor sad parents.as I imagined them coping without me. I obviously started 'thinking' at an early age. In the event it was my mother's death when I was just turned 16 yrs old that was my first experience of loss and bereavement. But maybe when I was about 3 yrs old I had picked up the awareness of grief from my mother after the death of my maternal gt grandmother.

Over these last 5 yearsI have had several losses. One after another. Each loss reminds me of previous losses. Until my whole body feels as if it is one huge receptacle of sadness. The last two were our much loved cats. The first Cagney, almost 2 years ago, followed by his 'wife' Lacey just a year ago. We had them both as 8 week old kittens from separate litters. They were almost 20 years old when they died. Our dog also; we still grieve, many years later. Our pets were our 'children'. Now I am an empty nester.

What set me thinking down this path is the latest posting from the Wife in the North. Wifey isn't the only "fright filled soul". My fears now - are over suffering any more losses of my nearest and dearest. My widowed sister who, if I've not heard from her for 12 hours, I become convinced is lying dead at the foot of the stairs. Nephews and nieces living in the City (prone to possible terroists attacks) or travelling on a gap year (terroism, natural acts of God and plane crashes) or partaking in adrenaline sports activity. All fill me with dread and anxiety.