Keep Moving.

I am feeling so short of the necessary light of life today that I can hardly put one letter in front of another. It's just the fact that I can't seem to make anything more happen with Son's flat sale - try as I might. We are all on hold, and it just needs someone to take their finger off the 'pause' button and hit 'play'. If the Great all-providing Universe is listening, let's just get moving, please!

Grandson stayed with me last night, and that was lovely - though he didn't particularly want to go to bed, which is unusual for him. I left him in my bed at 7pm, and about 10 minutes later he wandered into the sitting room saying "I not tired." I was watching Doctor Who (a repeat of course), so he sat down and said
"I like Doctor Who". We cuddled up for a while, and then watched some of "Aladdin", which he knows off by heart. I finally got him into bed and asleep by 8.30pm. Maybe the fact that I'm a bit down is due to being tired - he was awake again at 6am - and when Grandson is awake, no-one sleeps!

It's a grey, windy, cold and cheerless morning, more like instant Winter than Autumn and I'm glad I don't live down on the seafront. When I was house-hunting here I thought I wanted a sea view, but now I know that would have been a mistake. In the South of France I'm sure it would be divine, but with our winters, often six months long, the reality is grey and rather depressing for much of the year. I often walk or cycle by the sea, as I'm only 5 minutes away from the beach, but that's close enough on a day like today. Come to think of it, it's exactly 5 years today since we moved to Brighton, or Hove actually. How time has flown and how our lives have changed. And now it's time we were all moving on again. Please..

Morning sickness...

Monday is living up to its reputation as a bloody awful day again. I'm feeling sick again, because any movement seems to have ground to a halt on the flat front. And let's face it, the current panic around Northern Rock isn't helping at all. I do wonder if anything else nasty can happen. I'm sure that people with their life savings at stake would feel nervous, but as someone on the radio said, haven't any of them seen "It's a Wonderful Life"? Of course, the global nature of financial situations makes the current crisis quite different - but I do feel that the financial world brings these things on itself. The banks are so greedy, and so are the Building Societies. In every respect, it's their customers who pay, usually through the nose, for everything. Believe me, their profits are not going to suffer overall - it's us who'll end up paying. Mr Bank of England, Mr Chancellor of the Exchequer, et al, they will go on piling up the profits and living off the fat of the land while we, the suckers, will pay. As James Stewart said, in the aforementioned movie "Is it too much to ask that all the little people who do all the living and dying and paying around here should have a decent home to live in?" That may not be word for word perfect, but it's pretty close, and the sentiments are spot on. The money men are greedy bastards, and that's about it.

Going back to my weekend with Sister, we uncovered a few inconsistencies with regard to our past. For one, she has apparently attempted an investigation into our family tree, only to find that our Father's birth does not seem to have been registered anywhere. We have always believed that his birthday was 25th May 1915, and that he was named Jasper Stanley. This may be true, but the fact does not seem to have been recorded anywhere. His mother, Martha, is long dead and so are any other relatives, so we can't check the facts with anyone else. His whole birth and history have always been mysterious, and Sister confirmed that he did indeed die without knowing who his father was. So the mystery deepens. Who are we? God knows, but I guess we will have to try and find out.

Sister and I laughed about our Mother and her obsession with illnesses. I had forgotten that I apparently had cerebral spinal fever when I was a baby - this sounds serious and Sister thought it highly amusing that I didn't remember any of the conversations about it. I knew that I had had double pneumonia, and that my little life had been saved by 'M & B' tablets: the first readily available antibiotics. What a sickly wimp I was; it's amazing that I'm in such rude good health now. In fact, we're both ridiculously healthy 60 somethings, though perhaps I shouldn't tempt providence...

Today is your Birthday..

The weekend has been a great success. Sister turned up yesterday and it was a real reunion. When I looked at her (after something like 6 years!), it was like looking at a different version of my own face. Strange. We sat drinking wine,on the balcony in the last of the sun, and then eating supper on our laps and talking non-stop. The things we remembered, and laughed about. We talked about Mum and Dad, Grandmothers, Aunties (real and pretend),and all the things we recalled from our childhood. We finally got to bed at about 11.30, and had to get up at 7am for the Car Boot Sale.

It has been a lovely day, weatherwise and otherwise. Blustery and sunny and very good fun. We sold lots of things at the Car Boot; Sister made enough money to feel it was all worthwhile, and all my friends turned up to say hello too, plus Daughter, Grandson and boyfriend with his daughter. Grandson was lovely, he ran up to my Sister (whom he has never seen) and threw his arms around her, giving her one of his special kisses (this involves his little tongue being poked out and is a real smacker). She picked him up and cuddled him, and it was wonderful to see. While we were there, the Shoreham Air Show was in full swing, so we had a perfect view of all the old aeroplanes, and the new ones, helicopters and scary aerobatics. We ate bacon rolls and drank stewed tea. And a good time was had by all.

Then we packed up and drove back home - happily with less than half of the stuff we started with. My Gay Friend came round for tea and toast and damson jam and to look at the clothes Sister had brought with her - she works in film and had bags full of fabulous 'wardrobe' clothes which no-one apparently wanted. Some sold at the Car Boot, and some have ended up in my wardrobe. New clothes! What a treat.

Son's Birthday too, and it was about 6 o'clock this evening before I managed to talk to him. He was watching 'Lord of the Rings' in bed, and sounded really tired - but I suppose if you were up all night celebrating, that's rather a nice end to the day.
Happy Birthday Son, and Many Happy Returns...

We're moving on..

Well, there is movement in the situation at last. I have done my Feng Shui best (as recommended by Sister), and it does seem to be having results. Yesterday we had a viewing at Son's flat, which today resulted in an offer - not a great offer, but not bad - and we also have another viewing tomorrow. This is about 200% more movement than we have had over the last six weeks, so I'm daring to feel hopeful. And we are still optimistic about the broken chain. So we do at least have a couple of options where we had none before.

When I told Son about the Feng Shui ritual, and suggested that he might like to have a go, he laughed and said "Does it matter if you're sceptical?" "Yes" I said, "I rather think it does." No comment.

The weather appears to be set fair, so Sister is coming down tomorrow and we are going to do the Car Boot Sale on Sunday. I'm so looking forward to seeing her, and do hope that she will be able to make some money selling her stuff. I haven't got much to sell, but will just enjoy the occasion and, hopefully, a bit of sunshine.
Daughter and Grandson will also come along to the Boot Sale, with the boyfriend, which will be a bit of a family reunion. It's probably five years since Daughter saw her only Auntie, and Grandson has never seen her, being only three! As Sunday is also Son's 28th Birthday, it looks like being a significant date to remember. Incidentally, I have promised not to phone and wake Son on Sunday, singing Happy Birthday, at 8 am. (Every year I remind him that when he was born he woke me at 6 am - and it was a Sunday.) As they are having a party in London tomorrow night, which will probably go on until Sunday morning, it only seems fair. He said "Don't worry Mum, I'll turn my phone off anyway." I guess I'll have to wait until the afternoon to wish him Many Happy Returns.

Terrible news, Terry Wogan is going on another holiday for two weeks. I felt quite down when he told us this morning - especially when I heard that Johnnie Walker will be taking over again. It's too bad. What am I supposed to listen to instead? I keep meaning to buy a 'docking' set-up for my Ipod, then I could listen to my music in any room in the house, and that would be a reasonable substitute for a while. I suppose another option is to use the 'listen again' facility on Radio 2, and just repeat old Terry Wogan shows for two weeks. Pathetic really, I must get out more.

Another day, another dollar.

Today was a much better day, gloriously warm and sunny, and we have all calmed down a bit since yesterday. A good night's sleep usually helps to get things into better perspective, and sure enough everything looks brighter today. (Though that Landlord is about to get a nasty shock, which he thoroughly deserves!)

I cycled along the sea front to meet up with Daughter at a beach cafe and we sat drinking coffee and watching the sun sparkling on the sea. Grandson was in his pre-school today, until 2pm, so we had plenty of time to be idle for a change. Daughter now has nursery vouchers for his pre-school, which means that most of his hours are free. This comes into effect after the child is 3, and it means that she has gone from paying £53 a week to paying £10, and he gets an extra two hours a week. It's a very good scheme, and means that she can pay her bills without having to save quite so hard! He obviously feels very grown-up now that he is 'upstairs' with the big children - though they all look like tiny little scraps to me. And I don't want him to grow up anyway!

I was trying to buy a Birthday present for Son today on the Internet. I succeeded in the end, but it wasn't easy, and I always worry about giving my credit card details. I expect that's just my age. Son and his friends regularly leave their cards 'behind the bar' when they are out drinking. And I remember one occasion last year when he casually said that he'd forgotten and left his card there overnight, going back for it the next day. It really is a different world out there - I'd be paranoid about leaving my credit card in a pub. But, heigh-ho, they don't seem to think it's a problem, so I suppose it isn't.

I really must get back to my Ebay activities. A year ago I was doing a roaring trade in antique linens, eiderdowns and embroidered hankies - the sort of thing I've been collecting for years. I'm not quite sure why, but I now feel like clearing all this stuff out; I look at it and think "It's lovely, but I don't need it any more." Quite cleansing, and very good Feng Shui to clear the clutter. I was very impressed with the Ebay setup. It's a democratic organisation, and because every transaction is scrutinised, you can't get away with bad trading. They expect you to be honest and to behave with absolute integrity; every item has to be described, and photographed, in precise detail and each person, buyer and seller, leaves feedback on their experience at the end of each sale. I have sold items to people from around the world, and I've had really nice comments and feedback from buyers.(I'm very proud of my 100% positive feedback.) It's a bit like a global supermarket. Someone, somewhere will want what you have to sell, you just have to put it out there on display. It's good fun, and I thoroughly recommend it.

Happy New Year!

Dear Lord, today has been absolutely the pits. This morning had an upsetting phone call from Son, who was furious beyond belief that the bastard Landlord has actually had the nerve to withold £200 from their deposit. Given that they lived for 12 months in a dangerously damp environment, with black spot, mould and mildew growing in cupboards and up the walls, and that the flat was declared a Category 1 Health Hazard by the Environment Agency, Department of Community Protection, it's astonishing that he isn't in prison. How he can sleep at night I don't know. And if I get within a mile of him, he'll never sleep again. It's a scandal that both Agents and Landlords can get away with treating young tenants in this way. They are charged exorbitant rents, and deposits, for the most crappy living spaces that are in the most appalling condition. Son and his friend not only lived with this damp problem, but had to endure supposedly remedial works (which involved stripping the interior walls of plaster, and creating unimaginable dust and dirt but did nothing to solve the problem), and were then expected to both leave the heating on and open the windows to 'help the drying process'! Never mind the expense - or the security problems! And they also lived without electricity in the bathroom - they bathed by candlelight! And the washing machine remained unrepaired for a month - so they had the extra expense of having to use a launderette. And their bread and fruit all went mouldy in a couple of days. And their clothes never dried! I could go on and on. This man deserves to rot in hell. And the Agents who 'represent' him, but refuse to take any actual responsibility, deserve to rot in hell too.

I spoke to our Solicitor, who has given advice, but it was a very upsetting day all round. Here are two young men who have behaved with integrity, and paid their rent in full through all these problems, in the belief that everything would be sorted. Sadly, the truth is that the rotten Landlord was only interested in getting his filthy hands on their money. There is no doubt that I would kill for my children!

I heard on Terry Wogan this morning that it's the beginning of the Jewish New Year. I do wonder if I might be Jewish, because I have always felt that the New Year started in September, when the new school term starts. It just seems more logical to me. My father had mysterious parentage, so it could be so. He was born to my grandmother when she was forty, and unmarried. (She had her first child when she was 25, and also unmarried.) She was a cook in a castle in Wales at the time (this was in 1915), and was apparently sworn to secrecy about who the father was. The price for her silence was a private boarding-school education for my father, and a secure future for her. She called my father Jasper Stanley, and absolutely adored him, but she died without telling him who his father was! I have always thought that quite amazing - to keep such a secret even on your death bed, is worthy of the darkest drama. Of course she was a true Victorian. She was born in 1875, so she was 26 already when Queen Victoria died. And she was always suspicious of the telephone. She only married for the first time when she was 70, and then she married her sister's husband after her sister died. Dear old Martha, she lived to be 95, and was a tough old bird. Her Summer Pudding was the best thing I ever tasted.

Friday to Monday.

Home again, having had a very relaxing time with my Aristocratic Best Friend. We pottered in the garden and talked non-stop. I love to hear stories of her aristocratic family; they are all out of this world, rather like characters in an Evelyn Waugh novel.And they are all incredibly rich (the sort of rich that doesn't buy designer clothes or smart cars, but never wants for anything). BF has never had to work to earn her living. She lives on the proverbial Trust Fund. And yet she works very hard every day, mostly in her garden. It's not the kind of work that most of us would associate with real life, but she would be genuinely surprised to think that she is considered elite - though she definitely is. She is surprisingly plebeian however, in her choice of newspaper. I only ever read this tabloid when I visit her, and am horrified at the poison it drips into the mind. ABF had me wondering, by the end of the weekend, whether Madeleine McCann's parents had caused their daughter's disappearance or even death. I just don't believe it - but it's amazing what a newspaper can do with a lot of suggestion and circumstantial
evidence. It's pure scandal and sensation and it obviously sells newspapers. Thankfully I'm back home now, and can ignore the awful drip drip of insane repetition that wears away at reason and integrity.


We did actually spend an awful lot of time eating - the risotto, which I cooked for lunch with friends on Saturday, was a great success, and we also went out to Sunday Lunch in a country pub, and had roast beef, yorkshire pudding and loads of veg. We sat overlooking the High Weald on a glorious afternoon, outside in the sunshine, and enjoying the food and a very good wine. Not surprisingly, we ate very little in the evenings. I went to bed early and consequently have nearly finished reading the latest Harry Potter. I'm not giving anything away, but it is very exciting and somehow very satisfactory to be coming to the end of a saga that has defined childrens' literature for the last few years. I wonder what will come next - and there's sure to be something wonderful out there. Books are forever.