Thursday, September 29, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
I thought I was running out of energy a while back. And I thought it was going to be forever, but I was wrong.
I have just spent time with Miss Martha for four days in a row. The night she stayed over was tiring but it did not take me long to get over it.
Since the beginning of August I have started blackcurrant, rhubarb, damson, parsnip and more rhubarb wine. All of these have been made from home-grown fruit and vegetables. It was not always me that grew them but that is no matter. I still have in my freezer enough peaches and damsons to make another four gallons of wine. Today Miss Martha and I gathered blackberries. They are not that plentiful this year but I'll get enough to make another gallon of wine. Miss Martha ate more than she picked and she asked to be carried which rather stayed my foraging frenzy. Still I carried her and it wasn't too hard – more proof that my energy is returning.
I have started to cook proper meals again.
And Bert and I have resumed watching The Sopranos. When Matty got ill we stopped watching at the end of Season 4. Said we'd start again when all was over. I only felt like again it a few weeks back and asked my darling Katy to gift Season 5 for my birthday. Just three more episodes left now. Bert is waiting impatiently for our evening's so I must go.
Not before I tell how I've resumed my audio books. Two Austens redd up and a Hardy on the go. I'm also proper reading Wuthering Heights and realise it's for the first time! I thought I'd read it but it turned out I'd just heard a song.
Still I'm overweight and haven't properly got back to walking, I have a sore shoulder and hives all over. So what! I'm on the right track.
I thought of Matty today and felt very sad that she was not here. I still miss her so much and my eyes well up as I write this. She would have loved this beautiful day, wouldn't have approved of my manic wine-making, “Why not make jam?” she'd have said. She'd have been excited about her new great grandchild Miss Ava and would have been looking forward to the new one due in a few weeks time (Miss Martha's brother or sister) Miss you very much Mammy but for now I am, and we all are, moving on. I even got my hair cut.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Is Elton John American?
Wee Manny got that tattooed on his arm.What! Steppenwolf?No. Born To Be Wild.Ha ha! Born To Have An Early Night you mean!No! He was wild in his time.Wild! Your arse. what way was he wild?Well - he would have went anywhere, done anything, ceilidhed with any mob, anywhere, took any drug you would have offered him.Huh! That's not being wild, that's just being sociable.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
According to FlyLady CHAOS stands for Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome because the damn house is such a mess.
Well - my problem is slightly different . My house is chaotic because I can't keep people from coming over and cannot get round them to clean.
But at least the attic is much more orderly since Miss Hannah and I had the massive clear out on Tuesday. We carried two car loads to the charity shops and Bert carried a van load to the recycling centre at the council yard.
Some people have said I could have made money out of that stuff and I daresay they are right but that would have been more procrastination. If I hadn't got round to selling any of it in 30 years, I doubt the next 30 years would be any different. Anyway, if I ever get the selling urge, hasn't Bert a tunnelful of clematee?
The picture above shows that I am not the only one living in clutter. Big Blessed Virgin Mary and Little Blessed Virgin Mary keep a very throughother shrine but it hasn't stopped Saint Bernadette Soubirous from calling over.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
My 25th year found me living alone in Drumtara, pregnant, poor and lonely. I was also very bored so, to pass the time, I kept a journal. It ran to two volumes and I have to admit it was one of the most tedious, self-obsessed and whiney journals ever written. It didn't contain an ounce of humour or interest and every time I've looked at those two notebooks since I have cringed.
So why did it take me more than three decades to rid myself of these woeful books ?
Today, during an epic attic clearance, I decided the time had come to burn the dreary things and the only place in the house with a burning fire is in Pearlie's room.
What's that ye have there?
Just some old diaries.
What! Reach them to me!
They're not yours Pearlie. They're mine. Just some old diaries I kept when I was in my 20s.
Setting them carefully on the fire.
I'd love to read those!
You would not.
Piling the coal around them.
I'd have been very interested in those.
I bet you would.
I felt a tiny bit guilty depriving Pearlie of the pleasure of finding out what a shallow twat I was when I was 24 but very, very happy to be rid of the reminder. Thanks be for the cleansing power of flames.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
A few days ago I had a call from a fellow blogger. He and his lady were shooting a video in the vicinity and did I know of any young couples. preferably late teens, boy being dark and girl being fair? I said that I did not but I knew a suitable couple who, despite being well into their twenties, were still able to get half-fare on public transport if they so desired, although being good honest people always told the fare collector that they were liable for the full whack. They also wanted someone dark and mid-thirties for an older version of the boy. I knew of a fairly fresh young fellow with the mature, dark looks that they were looking for.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
I had a similar issue with my hair but, unlike Miss Martha, I lack the necessary cuteness factor to carry off the hair fountain look. I had to rely on pinning the offending hank back with clips and grips. But it would come down and tickle me horribly. Most annoying.
I lost patience with it last night, grabbed the nearest pair of blunt scissors and whacked it off. Feels great.
But what does it look like? It looks like this!
Of course I haven't the sideburns.