Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Shame on us...
Despite my parents' various problems, I believe I had very secure and happy childhood. I was never abused. How lucky I was. It seems that accounts of child abuse, cruelty and even murder are now commonplace, almost everyday occurences. How terrible that is, particularly for those of us who have a horror of any kind of hurt or damage being inflicted on any child. I know that when I was a child, there was a completely different view of children from that which prevails now. Childhood was not idealized as it often is today. We were disciplined, by which I mean that we had clear definitions of what we were allowed and expected to do. Perhaps some of my contemporaries were physically abused in the course of that discipline, but I was not aware of that. Mostly, we accepted that we had to do what our parents expected of us. We probably didn't like it much, but that was life. And I'm pretty sure that that was one of the reasons why so many of us married young - to get away from our parents and their way of life. If this seems a very matter-of-fact description, it probably is. And I'm not saying that our lives were either better or worse. They were simply different. I only know that when I came to have my own children, and when I had the sole responsibility of bringing them up, I was a more compassionate and loving parent than my own had been. As many of my contemporaries did, I felt that showing my love for my children was more important than disciplining them - I didn't mind admitting that I was wrong either (and I often was). Don't get me wrong, I did have reasonable expectations of my children, and they knew where their boundaries lay, but I also wanted them to be happy and to know that they were loved. I'm sure that this belief brings its own complications - it's unrealistic to expect happiness to be a constant in our lives. And if we had no sadness, arguably we couldn't appreciate happiness when it came along. But how, when, where did it become so threaded through our society that little children should come into this world so unloved and uncared for that they are almost routinely abused and cruelly treated? How is it that our society actually tolerates this? I have seen, as most of us probably have, children being abused, shouted at and and hit in the street. And I have sometimes spoken out, and sometimes not. Why are we, as a society, afraid of these bullies. I wish I had the answer - and I wish that our society had the courage and the strength to actually do something about these abuses and frightful crimes. So our Social Workers are now overloading the system with cases of child abuse and neglect (in the wake of the fallout after the case of poor little Baby Peter) - because they are afraid that they will be seen to be inefficient. They might even lose their jobs! But how do the children feel? How do those poor little neglected scraps of humanity feel when they see yet another Social Worker walking away from them and leaving them in the "care" of brutal, ignorant and abusive adults? I don't have the answers, but I do have many questions. How many bruises to you have to see on a child before you realize that that child is being cruelly treated? How many reports of crying and screaming can you ignore? How many times do you send an injured mother and her children back to live with a violent and abusive partner? I often wonder how we continue to live in a society that allows these, and many, many more crimes against humanity. Heads down, we scurry on about our business, living our own lives, seeing only what is closest to us. Of course we can look after our own dear children, to the very best of our abilities. We can hold them close to our hearts and make the best possible future for them. And perhaps, in the end, that is the most we can do. I'm not religious, but I surely know that any person who abuses or hurts a child and ruins a young life is going to Hell for it. And for that reason alone, I hope there is a particularly nasty Hell reserved just for them.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Never mind, things could be worse.
For some reason I'm feeling nostalgic this evening. I've had a mixed couple of weeks, with worries about both Son and Daughter, and I've been looking back "in my mind's eye" to the days when, whatever was wrong, we would sort it out and settle down for a cosy evening cuddled up on the sofa at home. Ah, those were the days...
What's been happening? Well, Daughter seems to be continuing on her path towards a Wedding, if not a marriage. It seems to me that "Planning a Wedding" is about the day, the dress and the party, while a marriage is about a future life together. I'm far from convinced that the future even comes into it for her - I think it's all about the fantasy and fluff of getting married. Anyway, there has also been a new addition to their household - a very large dragon or something similar. I walked, all unsuspecting, into their sitting room, to be confronted by a huge black cabinet with a glass front, inside which was a large gecko, I screamed and jumped backwards. Its tank hissed. It has light, heat and water, and what look like live crickets, obviously as food for the monster. I beat a hasty retreat to collect Grandson from school and refused to go back in again. I told Daughter that I thought she had completely lost it, and she told me that I was being negative. I guess it's the ultimate chav accessory. It goes perfectly with the boyfriend's dreadful chav haircuts, the non-stop video gaming and the obssession with his car. Perhaps this sounds amusing, but when I think that this is the "Daddy" influence on my Grandson, along with his unswerving avoidance of anything remotely intellectual, it makes me feel both angry and helpless. Just for a change...
Son, on the other hand, has a lovely girlfriend who is both intelligent and sensitive. They have been getting on very well and she has been staying with him for a while since she had problems with her boss and her last flat. This seemed to be working out well until hiccoughs appeared in the shape of Son's flatmate (they bought the flat together), who objected to her continuing presence. Poor old Son, just as he had settled into a home for the first time (not a rental) and was feeling secure, along comes trouble. I can't imagine how the Girlfriend managed to upset the flatmate, since she has clearly improved the place and has also made Son pretty happy. Apparently though, he had become used to having the place to himself (not that that was part of the deal). He is also an avid computer "gamer", so I suppose that having a happy young couple coming home in the evenings pissed him off. Well I can tell you, his response has also pissed me off. Not to mention Son, who has found another flat for the Girlfriend and is seriously contemplating moving out himself. Now does that sound fair to you?
So, you can see why I'm feeling nostalgic. Give me the good old days when I could put on a plaster, or kiss it better, or just send the troublemaker home after tea....
Oh, and another thing that's really upset me is the news that the lovely Terry Wogan is deserting me. I don't quite know what to do about this - he has been my support and stay for more than 30 years. Of course he is now 71, and is probably fed up with getting up at some ungodly hour in the mornings. I do understand, but I just don't know what I'm going to do.
And if the BBC seriously thinks I'm going to listen to that w***** Chris Evans instead, they've made a big mistake. Oh what the hell, just call me Grumpy.
What's been happening? Well, Daughter seems to be continuing on her path towards a Wedding, if not a marriage. It seems to me that "Planning a Wedding" is about the day, the dress and the party, while a marriage is about a future life together. I'm far from convinced that the future even comes into it for her - I think it's all about the fantasy and fluff of getting married. Anyway, there has also been a new addition to their household - a very large dragon or something similar. I walked, all unsuspecting, into their sitting room, to be confronted by a huge black cabinet with a glass front, inside which was a large gecko, I screamed and jumped backwards. Its tank hissed. It has light, heat and water, and what look like live crickets, obviously as food for the monster. I beat a hasty retreat to collect Grandson from school and refused to go back in again. I told Daughter that I thought she had completely lost it, and she told me that I was being negative. I guess it's the ultimate chav accessory. It goes perfectly with the boyfriend's dreadful chav haircuts, the non-stop video gaming and the obssession with his car. Perhaps this sounds amusing, but when I think that this is the "Daddy" influence on my Grandson, along with his unswerving avoidance of anything remotely intellectual, it makes me feel both angry and helpless. Just for a change...
Son, on the other hand, has a lovely girlfriend who is both intelligent and sensitive. They have been getting on very well and she has been staying with him for a while since she had problems with her boss and her last flat. This seemed to be working out well until hiccoughs appeared in the shape of Son's flatmate (they bought the flat together), who objected to her continuing presence. Poor old Son, just as he had settled into a home for the first time (not a rental) and was feeling secure, along comes trouble. I can't imagine how the Girlfriend managed to upset the flatmate, since she has clearly improved the place and has also made Son pretty happy. Apparently though, he had become used to having the place to himself (not that that was part of the deal). He is also an avid computer "gamer", so I suppose that having a happy young couple coming home in the evenings pissed him off. Well I can tell you, his response has also pissed me off. Not to mention Son, who has found another flat for the Girlfriend and is seriously contemplating moving out himself. Now does that sound fair to you?
So, you can see why I'm feeling nostalgic. Give me the good old days when I could put on a plaster, or kiss it better, or just send the troublemaker home after tea....
Oh, and another thing that's really upset me is the news that the lovely Terry Wogan is deserting me. I don't quite know what to do about this - he has been my support and stay for more than 30 years. Of course he is now 71, and is probably fed up with getting up at some ungodly hour in the mornings. I do understand, but I just don't know what I'm going to do.
And if the BBC seriously thinks I'm going to listen to that w***** Chris Evans instead, they've made a big mistake. Oh what the hell, just call me Grumpy.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Anyone for Summer Pudding?
I was just sitting here eating some of my Summer Pudding, well actually my Grandma's recipe Summer Pudding, and it occurred to me that you might like to try it.
Actually, it seems a funny old time to be making this, as it's well and truly Autumn now, but here goes - I made this one because the berries were all on special offer in Tesco!
You'll need one medium-sized pudding bowl (the old-fashioned china kind), a loaf of stale white bread (this is more tricky than you think, as no-one sells day-old bread any more), a punnet each of redcurrants, blackcurrants and raspberries, roughly 2 ounces of caster sugar (I use vanilla sugar, which is simply caster sugar into which I put a vanilla pod so that it absorbs the flavour.) Plus a little water in which to barely cook the fruit. And, of course, cream to serve.
First cut the crusts off the bread and cut out the slices to make a lining for your pudding basin. This is great fun - children love helping because it's like doing a jigsaw puzzle. You can even use a mixture of white and brown bread if you like, which gives a rather nice patchwork effect. And stale bread really is best because it soaks up the fruit juices so beautifully. Then string the currants, wash all the fruit and put it altogether with the sugar and a little water into a saucepan. Warm the fruit, rather than acually cooking it, so that the juices run. You don't want the fruit to be overcooked and mushy. Leave it to cool a little, and then spoon the fruit mixture into your lined basin, nearly to the top. Cut out a bread lid for your pudding and spoon some juice over it. If you have any juice left over, save it for serving later. Now you need to find a saucer or small plate which will just fit into the top of your basin. Put some heavy weights onto this, so that the bread is pushed down firmly, and then put your pudding in the 'fridge for at least 12 hours. (I always leave mine for at least a day, and my Grandma used to put hers on a marble slab in the larder for 24 hours.) When you come to turn it out, the pudding should have a lovely purply marbled effect on the outside and a sweet/sharp mix of fruit on the inside. And you can now pour on your reserved juice if there are any stubborn white patches. If you have done it right, you can cut this gorgeous pudding into firm slices, but even if it's not perfect, it is without doubt the best pudding I have ever tasted. Served with Jersey cream or clotted cream it's just divine. And it looks very pretty on a white plate too.
Actually, it seems a funny old time to be making this, as it's well and truly Autumn now, but here goes - I made this one because the berries were all on special offer in Tesco!
You'll need one medium-sized pudding bowl (the old-fashioned china kind), a loaf of stale white bread (this is more tricky than you think, as no-one sells day-old bread any more), a punnet each of redcurrants, blackcurrants and raspberries, roughly 2 ounces of caster sugar (I use vanilla sugar, which is simply caster sugar into which I put a vanilla pod so that it absorbs the flavour.) Plus a little water in which to barely cook the fruit. And, of course, cream to serve.
First cut the crusts off the bread and cut out the slices to make a lining for your pudding basin. This is great fun - children love helping because it's like doing a jigsaw puzzle. You can even use a mixture of white and brown bread if you like, which gives a rather nice patchwork effect. And stale bread really is best because it soaks up the fruit juices so beautifully. Then string the currants, wash all the fruit and put it altogether with the sugar and a little water into a saucepan. Warm the fruit, rather than acually cooking it, so that the juices run. You don't want the fruit to be overcooked and mushy. Leave it to cool a little, and then spoon the fruit mixture into your lined basin, nearly to the top. Cut out a bread lid for your pudding and spoon some juice over it. If you have any juice left over, save it for serving later. Now you need to find a saucer or small plate which will just fit into the top of your basin. Put some heavy weights onto this, so that the bread is pushed down firmly, and then put your pudding in the 'fridge for at least 12 hours. (I always leave mine for at least a day, and my Grandma used to put hers on a marble slab in the larder for 24 hours.) When you come to turn it out, the pudding should have a lovely purply marbled effect on the outside and a sweet/sharp mix of fruit on the inside. And you can now pour on your reserved juice if there are any stubborn white patches. If you have done it right, you can cut this gorgeous pudding into firm slices, but even if it's not perfect, it is without doubt the best pudding I have ever tasted. Served with Jersey cream or clotted cream it's just divine. And it looks very pretty on a white plate too.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Champagne Days.
The trouble with this laptop is that I find myself doing even less Blogging because I can sit here watching a film and time just flies. To get back to the old news, I had not one but two Students because a last-minute French girl turned up rather unexpectedly. She joined my Spanish student, and they were both very nice - though the French girl spoke almost no English. It didn't seem to matter because they got on famously and went out most evenings after supper for a friendly drink.
On the Wednesday I left them to their own devices because I went up to London to meet Son for his Birthday. He was 30 on 16th, hard to believe really. Anyway, I had spent several days putting together an album of photos, one for each year of his life. It was hard to choose which to include - but it was rather good in the end. I also gave him Squirrel's gold watch; a lovely old Garrard Fob Watch with a gold chain, which I'd had serviced and repaired. (It was given to dear old Squirrel in 1963, as a reward for 25 years service at Vauxhall Motors.) One of my Brighton BF's gave me a card and a chocolate cake to take for him too , so he was rather spoiled.
When I arrived in Town, I hopped on the bus and started off taking a look at the Trafalgar Square plinth, which seemed to me to be nothing much. There was a bloke up there throwing down sugar lollies and party blowers - and writing strange stuff on a pad, which he then screwed up and threw down into the crowd. Odd and rather pointless. After that I cruised round the National Portrait Gallery, looking at their latest exhibitions, and took some tea in their little cafe.
Son phoned while I was there and invited me to join all the jolly office people as they were having champagne in Soho. Hard to resist! It was so lovely to see him, and he did look wonderful. We drank a toast to him, or several, and then he and I went back to his flat to meet up with his Girlfriend. More champagne and he opened all his presents, which he really loved. And then I took them out for dinner at a Tapas Restaurant not far from where he lives in Vauxhall. It was the most delightful evening, and I ended up sleeping on their sofa because I just couldn't bear the thought of running to catch a train at that time of night. It was such fun. I finally got back to Brighton on Thursday afternoon, having had a lovely time. Son was also having a drinks party for all his friends on the Friday (which was his Girlfriend's Birthday too!), but I didn't plan to go to that. Daughter did go, and I think they all had a great time. It was a wonderful and very special occasion.
Since then, time has flown again. My Spanish student went back to Madrid last Saturday, and we have had some amazingly hot weather; I've been on the beach and swimming in the sea nearly every day. I'm off to London again tomorrow, to stay with a London BF for a couple of days, and will probably see Son for lunch on Thursday. Hopefully. Back on Friday, by which time it will be October. Autumn already.
On the Wednesday I left them to their own devices because I went up to London to meet Son for his Birthday. He was 30 on 16th, hard to believe really. Anyway, I had spent several days putting together an album of photos, one for each year of his life. It was hard to choose which to include - but it was rather good in the end. I also gave him Squirrel's gold watch; a lovely old Garrard Fob Watch with a gold chain, which I'd had serviced and repaired. (It was given to dear old Squirrel in 1963, as a reward for 25 years service at Vauxhall Motors.) One of my Brighton BF's gave me a card and a chocolate cake to take for him too , so he was rather spoiled.
When I arrived in Town, I hopped on the bus and started off taking a look at the Trafalgar Square plinth, which seemed to me to be nothing much. There was a bloke up there throwing down sugar lollies and party blowers - and writing strange stuff on a pad, which he then screwed up and threw down into the crowd. Odd and rather pointless. After that I cruised round the National Portrait Gallery, looking at their latest exhibitions, and took some tea in their little cafe.
Son phoned while I was there and invited me to join all the jolly office people as they were having champagne in Soho. Hard to resist! It was so lovely to see him, and he did look wonderful. We drank a toast to him, or several, and then he and I went back to his flat to meet up with his Girlfriend. More champagne and he opened all his presents, which he really loved. And then I took them out for dinner at a Tapas Restaurant not far from where he lives in Vauxhall. It was the most delightful evening, and I ended up sleeping on their sofa because I just couldn't bear the thought of running to catch a train at that time of night. It was such fun. I finally got back to Brighton on Thursday afternoon, having had a lovely time. Son was also having a drinks party for all his friends on the Friday (which was his Girlfriend's Birthday too!), but I didn't plan to go to that. Daughter did go, and I think they all had a great time. It was a wonderful and very special occasion.
Since then, time has flown again. My Spanish student went back to Madrid last Saturday, and we have had some amazingly hot weather; I've been on the beach and swimming in the sea nearly every day. I'm off to London again tomorrow, to stay with a London BF for a couple of days, and will probably see Son for lunch on Thursday. Hopefully. Back on Friday, by which time it will be October. Autumn already.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
What's Up Doc?
How time flies when you're having fun! And what a week it has been. I'm sitting here now at my laptop (get me!) in the sitting room, semi-watching a movie, but basically using my wireless connection. It's blooming great to have said goodbye to all those wires.
Going back to where I left you, I have to say that nothing went quite as planned! The piano delivery was delayed because they were minus one van, so it finally arrived on Wednesday last week. I had been expecting it on either Monday or Tuesday, so there was a lot of hanging around, but never mind. The Piano People, when they did appear, were just wonderful, and made light work of getting the piano out of their van and up two flights of stairs. They soon had the old girl standing on her ornate mahogany legs, and looking very comfortable. Apparently the piano is strung like a harpsichord and so needs special treatment. Luckily the guys knew some names of people who can do this, so hopefully we will soon have the piano sounding reasonable. Then all I have to do is learn to play it again. Don't hold your breath!
I had been planning to go and spend a couple of days (Wednesday and Thursday) with one of my London BFs, but the great Laptop initiation was also delayed because the lovely Dan (and his equally lovely partner, James) couldn't get here until Friday morning and I just knew that rushing back and forth to London wasn't going to work. Especially since I had finally managed to get a Dentist appointment on Friday afternoon. So, as luck would have it, I was here, sitting on the loo on Thursday evening, when I looked down and saw water. Everywhere. I quickly opened the water meter door to discover that there was a fine mist spraying out from one of my pipes. Panic. I phoned the Water Board and then my lovely downstairs neighbour. Roz arrived first (of course) and gamely sat with her finger over the leak (just like the little Dutch Boy) until the water man arrived. Surprisingly, the leak turned out to be my responsibility and all he could do was turn the water off. Great. No water except what was leaking from the pipe. And did I forget to mention that Daughter was staying because she was going to a wedding the next day (not hers, I hasten to add). I sat up until the water stopped dripping (1.30 am) and fervently thanked Divine Providence that I hadn't gone to London, only to return to a flooded house.
I really am very lucky though, because the lovely Roz phoned her friend, and he came and fixed my leaking pipe the next day. What's more, the dear man refused to take any money, so I am in his debt and will have to think of something nice for him. And I had Dan and James setting up my Laptop and transferring all my backed-up stuff at the same time, which was tricky because I couldn't really concentrate on them, and I felt pretty bad about that. Next was the dentist, which wasn't good news - I need maybe an extraction, definitely a crown for a broken tooth and also a new filling, plus a "deep clean" which sounds painful to me.
After all that, I had to get ready for the Wedding Reception, to which I had been invited so that I could bring Grandson home after a couple of hours, leaving Daughter and the Boyfriend to dance the night away. We came home in a taxi at 10pm, and were both tucked up in my bed and fast asleep five minutes later. I was just exhausted, and so was Grandson, who had been dancing on on his own on the stage for a couple of hours, apparently. What Larks!
Oops, is that the time, and my battery is about to run out. I'll have to finish for now and re-charge. More later, bringing you up to date with all the latest news, including the rest of the weekend, new Student(s) and Son's 30th Birthday. Night, night. Sleep tight.
Going back to where I left you, I have to say that nothing went quite as planned! The piano delivery was delayed because they were minus one van, so it finally arrived on Wednesday last week. I had been expecting it on either Monday or Tuesday, so there was a lot of hanging around, but never mind. The Piano People, when they did appear, were just wonderful, and made light work of getting the piano out of their van and up two flights of stairs. They soon had the old girl standing on her ornate mahogany legs, and looking very comfortable. Apparently the piano is strung like a harpsichord and so needs special treatment. Luckily the guys knew some names of people who can do this, so hopefully we will soon have the piano sounding reasonable. Then all I have to do is learn to play it again. Don't hold your breath!
I had been planning to go and spend a couple of days (Wednesday and Thursday) with one of my London BFs, but the great Laptop initiation was also delayed because the lovely Dan (and his equally lovely partner, James) couldn't get here until Friday morning and I just knew that rushing back and forth to London wasn't going to work. Especially since I had finally managed to get a Dentist appointment on Friday afternoon. So, as luck would have it, I was here, sitting on the loo on Thursday evening, when I looked down and saw water. Everywhere. I quickly opened the water meter door to discover that there was a fine mist spraying out from one of my pipes. Panic. I phoned the Water Board and then my lovely downstairs neighbour. Roz arrived first (of course) and gamely sat with her finger over the leak (just like the little Dutch Boy) until the water man arrived. Surprisingly, the leak turned out to be my responsibility and all he could do was turn the water off. Great. No water except what was leaking from the pipe. And did I forget to mention that Daughter was staying because she was going to a wedding the next day (not hers, I hasten to add). I sat up until the water stopped dripping (1.30 am) and fervently thanked Divine Providence that I hadn't gone to London, only to return to a flooded house.
I really am very lucky though, because the lovely Roz phoned her friend, and he came and fixed my leaking pipe the next day. What's more, the dear man refused to take any money, so I am in his debt and will have to think of something nice for him. And I had Dan and James setting up my Laptop and transferring all my backed-up stuff at the same time, which was tricky because I couldn't really concentrate on them, and I felt pretty bad about that. Next was the dentist, which wasn't good news - I need maybe an extraction, definitely a crown for a broken tooth and also a new filling, plus a "deep clean" which sounds painful to me.
After all that, I had to get ready for the Wedding Reception, to which I had been invited so that I could bring Grandson home after a couple of hours, leaving Daughter and the Boyfriend to dance the night away. We came home in a taxi at 10pm, and were both tucked up in my bed and fast asleep five minutes later. I was just exhausted, and so was Grandson, who had been dancing on on his own on the stage for a couple of hours, apparently. What Larks!
Oops, is that the time, and my battery is about to run out. I'll have to finish for now and re-charge. More later, bringing you up to date with all the latest news, including the rest of the weekend, new Student(s) and Son's 30th Birthday. Night, night. Sleep tight.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Bye for now..
Not that I'm in a panic or anything, but today is the day when I switch off this dear old computer and pass it on to KT and Hon.G, with the fervent hope that it will give them a couple of years service. This means that I have to lose contact for a couple of days (no great loss, I hear you say!) while I get to grips with my new laptop. (I haven't even dared to open the box yet, but that's another story.) I'm also expecting delivery (on Tuesday) of the piano which belonged to my Grandmother. It's a beautiful old Broadwood grand piano which has a smaller than average keyboard, and is actually rectangular; basically a polished mahogany box on very ornate legs. I used to play it as a girl, when Sister and I were on holidays with Nana, so it will bring a lot of memories with it. I'm planning that it will sit where my computer desk now sits. I have checked and double-checked the measurements, and it should all fall into place, but the upheaval it has caused has been major. I didn't realise how much stuff I had been hoarding in my "Study", my desk and my filing boxes, and so I have spent the last few days clearing it all out and moving everything around. I do hope it works.
Added to that, it is Son's 30th Birthday in ten days (on 16th), and I have been trying to find photographs that summarize his 30 years of life so far. More boxes (under beds and in top cupboards) stuffed with so many photos I simply didn't remember. Am I alone in keeping all these memories? I have found Son's first photo (the scan of him at 16 weeks), plus lovely school ones of him with gaps in his teeth, and cards which date back to when both my children were at Primary School, and of course there are drawings they did then, poems they wrote. It's probably something I had to do anyway, but it certainly has brought the memories flooding back.
Well, I must get on. Switch-off time approaches, and I'm feeling nervous. Dan, my lovely computer man, has backed up all my files, and I've changed my "package" so that I get a much better deal (from the same people). It will give me up to 7mg Broadband, a wireless router, landline rental and all my calls, and will cost me £10 less per month. (Not bad when you consider that I have been paying over the odds for a good couple of years!) And I don't have to change my email address, which is a blessing when you're as technologically incompetent as I am.
So, happy Sunday to you all, and I fervently hope to be back with you in a few days (or at least by the end of the week). "Wish me luck as you wave me Goodbye.."
Added to that, it is Son's 30th Birthday in ten days (on 16th), and I have been trying to find photographs that summarize his 30 years of life so far. More boxes (under beds and in top cupboards) stuffed with so many photos I simply didn't remember. Am I alone in keeping all these memories? I have found Son's first photo (the scan of him at 16 weeks), plus lovely school ones of him with gaps in his teeth, and cards which date back to when both my children were at Primary School, and of course there are drawings they did then, poems they wrote. It's probably something I had to do anyway, but it certainly has brought the memories flooding back.
Well, I must get on. Switch-off time approaches, and I'm feeling nervous. Dan, my lovely computer man, has backed up all my files, and I've changed my "package" so that I get a much better deal (from the same people). It will give me up to 7mg Broadband, a wireless router, landline rental and all my calls, and will cost me £10 less per month. (Not bad when you consider that I have been paying over the odds for a good couple of years!) And I don't have to change my email address, which is a blessing when you're as technologically incompetent as I am.
So, happy Sunday to you all, and I fervently hope to be back with you in a few days (or at least by the end of the week). "Wish me luck as you wave me Goodbye.."
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Life's Rich Pattern...
Never has a truer word been spoke (sic), as my dear old Mother used to say. I am well and truly "in the wrong" now, as never before. I have been absent, as you may know, for nearly a month, and that is because things have taken a nasty turn in our family affairs since I last blogged. Three weeks ago I was totally blasted by a phone call from Daughter, who was on holiday in Greece, to say that the Boyfriend had proposed, and that she had accepted! This, as you may gather, was a total shock, given the upheaval three months ago when it looked as if her return from Dorking was imminent. At that time, they had had the mother and father of all upsets, and she couldn't wait to move back to Brighton. There were several reasons: they had been having "violent" rows, they didn't speak to each other at all, the previous year had been "terrible", she wished she had never left Brighton and couldn't wait to get back, her intellectual stimulus came from work, not from the Boyfriend, she wasn't sure if she could or should "settle for" what they had, she was going to be looking for someone else, and she didn't want to meet anyone who already had a child (as the Boyfriend has). Add to this the state she was in, and the fact that she said to me (however uncharacteristically) "Mum, you were right. You're always right." As I think I said at the time, this did not bode well!
OK, so now it's a complete "volte face", and they are engaged. She has the "gorgeous" diamond ring, to go with the two Chloe handbags, the Dior and Armani sunglasses, and the free Greek Island Holiday (just the two of them of course, Nanny Daisy and I were looking after Grandson). At the time of the upset, the Boyfriend had said that he would not apply any pressure if she would just give him another chance, a chance to change. And then he got his cheque book out. Forgive me if this sounds cynical, but I know that my lovely Daughter can be swayed by pretty things. He has been, very cleverly, playing the Daddy to her Daughter. The Daddy she didn't have to spoil her and tell her how lovely and special she is. However much I tried, I couldn't be that Daddy. And now I'm completely and utterly in the wrong because I can't smile and say, "How wonderful". Actually, I feel sick a lot of the time. And I'm not alone. The friends I have spoken to have voiced varied opinions, mostly in the region of "She could do so much better." Which is all very well, but it's not what she thinks now, three months later. I guess she was afraid to take that step, to be on her own again (not for long, I believe, with her looks, intellect and personality), to be moving back - though she would have had tons of support from family and friends - and despite all her qualities, she doesn't have a great deal of self esteem. And I'm sure that she was afraid of the effect it might have on Grandson - although we all reassured her at the time that children are very resilient and brave - which is another problem because sooner or later he will have to learn that the Boyfriend isn't his Father anyway. Oh God, life's a Bitch for sure. I'm in the wrong, and in the Dog House (arguably that's where I belong) and I don't know what to do next. Help!!
OK, so now it's a complete "volte face", and they are engaged. She has the "gorgeous" diamond ring, to go with the two Chloe handbags, the Dior and Armani sunglasses, and the free Greek Island Holiday (just the two of them of course, Nanny Daisy and I were looking after Grandson). At the time of the upset, the Boyfriend had said that he would not apply any pressure if she would just give him another chance, a chance to change. And then he got his cheque book out. Forgive me if this sounds cynical, but I know that my lovely Daughter can be swayed by pretty things. He has been, very cleverly, playing the Daddy to her Daughter. The Daddy she didn't have to spoil her and tell her how lovely and special she is. However much I tried, I couldn't be that Daddy. And now I'm completely and utterly in the wrong because I can't smile and say, "How wonderful". Actually, I feel sick a lot of the time. And I'm not alone. The friends I have spoken to have voiced varied opinions, mostly in the region of "She could do so much better." Which is all very well, but it's not what she thinks now, three months later. I guess she was afraid to take that step, to be on her own again (not for long, I believe, with her looks, intellect and personality), to be moving back - though she would have had tons of support from family and friends - and despite all her qualities, she doesn't have a great deal of self esteem. And I'm sure that she was afraid of the effect it might have on Grandson - although we all reassured her at the time that children are very resilient and brave - which is another problem because sooner or later he will have to learn that the Boyfriend isn't his Father anyway. Oh God, life's a Bitch for sure. I'm in the wrong, and in the Dog House (arguably that's where I belong) and I don't know what to do next. Help!!
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