I'm An Armadillo

I am having to put my armor back in place. I had got rather good at it, this self defense malarkey. Of course it means I don't get to feel much at all....not even the nice stuff. Have you ever tried stroking an armadillo, they don't respond much....not like a cat, the purrs and mews and pushes itself against your hand desperate for that extra attention, the tickle behind the ear, the gentle tummy rub. No, armadillos don't react much at all, the tough shell preventing the touch from reaching them.

But they don't get hurt as often, can't feel the sticks and stones thrown, defended against a vicious kick or jab.
I'd rather be a cat. But, for now at least, I am an armadillo.............

A Thin Veneer

I am in trouble. Biiiiiig trouble.

I am terrified I am spiraling down a rather long dark path again. It's occurred to me a number of times of the last few weeks. And there is no one thing that I can pinpoint that has made me feel this way, I can only admit to a number of things that have made me feel fragile, scared, raw, numb and out of control.

I miss my Mum in a way I never thought I would. I always knew that I would miss her physical presence, her smile, her hugs, her 'I love you's. I accepted that her home would feel strange without her in it. That I would expect to feel her there when I visited. In fact I don't that much. My parents home is always pristine, it is one of those homes that you could invite people to view at any given moment, there were never magazines, books, knitting or random things lying about, nothing for me to physically miss. All things had a proper place, all things were put away and stored where they were supposed to be. It still does. So yes, I miss her and yes I miss her sitting in her place at the kitchen table or being in her favourite chair in the lounge or the sight of her sitting up in bed when I pass her room. But more than that I MISS her. Do any of you out there know what I mean?

I simply haven't got a Mum any more. Oh I know I have, she will always be my Mum, that death doesn't steal the relationship or love we shared. But the here and now is that I am Mum-less. And there are times it completely floors me how much I ache for her, what I wouldn't give to have just one more day with her.

Add to that my Dad. I love my Dad but we have shared an odd relationship over the years. I have never felt quite good enough, a bit of a disappointment to him, so many things that over the years I have felt he hasn't approved of. I can never remember him telling me he loves me.

Sex at the age of 16.
Leaving home and 'carrying on' out on the town at 21.
Marrying a black man at the age of 27.
Never managing to put any money into savings age 30.
Getting fat age 35.

I have felt the weight of his disappointment  all through my life. But I love him, I love him utterly and his disapproval has coloured my life. Now there is just him. No Mum to cushion the relationship, to bridge the gap in us. Just him and me.
I visit him 2 or 3 times a week and we talk more than we have done for many many years. Finally I have seen hints in his words and actions that show his love for me, that express his approval and recognition of the person I have become.
He is sad and lonely and feels he has no purpose anymore, he had made it his personal aim to out live my Mum so he could take care of her. He has achieved it and he now feels he doesn't really have a reason to go on. I know that his one small pleasure is his garden, its winter and damp, cold and dreary, not the weather to go out and potter outside. Especially at 87 and only 2 weeks after a bout of bronchitis and 3 weeks after an operation!

Anyway, as with any elderly parent he gives me cause for concern. I hate the thought of him being sad and yet feel powerless to do anything. I hate the thought of him being lonely and yet he declines all offers of company, invitations and visits. I hate the thought that he has no future to look forward to as such and yet have no answers in the face of his determination to remain in the past.

And I am utterly terrified of losing him too. It means I will then have to grow up, be a grown up myself......

And then of course there is K. I must be totally fucking mad!!! I had just about got myself to a place I could function. Just about, it had been 20 months and he was still my first waking thought and the last when I closed my eyes but at least i thought I knew it was over, that I had to get over it. And now it appears I am back up to my neck in it! We are in contact each and every day, many times a day. We utter I love you's and forevers. We shared 'intimate' moments of a sexual nature (he is my sex life). We chat by phone as often as is possible and have plans for lunch together in a mere 11 days.

Of course you could just accuse him of having his cake and eating it too. And I don't blame you. Except he isn't. He has told me we can't be intimate in real life, that its too much of a betrayal. (Yeah yeah, how can he make love to me with words, tell me he loves me, chat to me for hours, write me poems and send me pictures and it not count as a betrayal? How the hell do I know!!) and yet that is the way he sees it, its the way he can cope with sharing his time, days, thoughts, emotions with me. Quite frankly I would rip any mans head off that had even a smidgen of the intimacy that we shared with another woman, sex or no sex!! But hey, thats me.

And so once again I find myself dangerously embroiled in a love affair that can only end in tears, probably for us both but its mine I am most concerned about.

So I feel my days are spent walking a tightrope, teetering on the edge of a precipice that I might tumble into, crashing through this thin veneer of happiness if I allow myself to wallow in any of these emotions, and that once tumbling I shall just free-fall myself back into a bucket of Happy-Pills once again.......and one of the worst things? I can't tell K, one of my best friends, the one I tell all too. He has just let slip to me this very morning that he thinks his wife is heading for another bout of depression in response to their being issues with his son.....so how can I tell him that his long-distance-lover is also turning into a nutball.........

Inner Child

I recently found this posted on the adult site I am a member of, a lady there had written about her changing life and the way she is attempting to discover a more light hearted approach to life. A few members had replied to her with thoughts and mentioned the 'inner child' in all of us. One posted this link below!

I defy any of you not to smile while watching this......how many of us have watched our children play with a feeling of envy....would you remember how to play? I have to admit that while grinning inanely at the screen my eyes also filled up, I so don't want to be a grown-up some days.



One of my favourite films is "Big" with Tom Hanks, and my favourite scene of that is where he and his 'girlfriend' trampoline in his apartment! That makes me fill up too LOL jeez i need to get out more!

Friend or Foe?

When I was a little girl I had a 'best friend'. Our Mums knew each other and we played together a bit in her garden when my Mum was invited round for coffee. They then moved away and lost touch but a few years later they returned to the house whose garden runs down almost to the bottom of ours. The girl and I resumed our friendship, now teetering on the cusp of being teenagers.

We experimented with our new found fashion sense and kissing skills (yes she really was my very first snog!) There was the natural young girl jealousies, she was petite, dark haired and tanned easily, her eyes were large, dark and framed by lashes that sneered at mascara, she had boobs before me and whenever I managed to cajole or pester my Mum into eventually buying a much wanted 'fashion item' (namely some hideous platform shoes, some hot pants and a pink butterfly dress) she would admire, note and appear in just the same outfit the next week.....

Every boy I liked during my early teenage years she threw herself at and 'got', being so much louder, forward and seemingly confident than me. Even the boy I went out with on and off for 5 years (age 15-20) wasn't off bounds to her, and during a couple of 'off' periods hung around with her. You get the picture? But we remained friends....... until at the age of 20 and then she finally blew it for me.

I had parted from my long term boyfriend and she took me under her wing and dragged me off to the city centre night clubs, to spread my wings and stop me moping. Of course what it then turned out was she wanted to snare the DJ there and hadn't got anyone to go with and I was left on my own for most of the night while she pouted, flirted and displayed herself in front of his 'booth'. Fortunately for me there was a girl there who had just started work at the same store as me and she let me join her and her friends (she so happens to be one of the ladies I now go on my annual Girlie Holiday with 30 years later!)

During one of these nights out, when I would accompany her into town and to the club and she would then latch onto DJ-Man and I would join my 'new friends' I bumped into a lad I had gone to school with. He had been my first crush, I had adored him for my 4 years of Junior School. He had grown, my how he had grown! Now 6'2" of gorgeous, golden haired, blue eyed lusciousness! We chatted and laughed and flirted and he asked me to go for a drink with him. I went out on a couple of dates with him and was quite smitten....... you can sort of guess what happened can't you? You can see it coming......

One particular night my 'friend' was going to a party, she asked for my help so I did her makeup, her hair and she borrowed my new bright yellow out fit (it was in then! it was the 80's!) I even dropped her off at the damn place she was going and then headed off into town to meet 'new friends' at the club and with the promise that First Crush would meet me there later in the night. He never appeared and 2am arrived and the clubs closed, I headed for my car (yes you are reading correctly, Clubs really did once close at 2 am and yes no one frowned and thought you were bad for drink-driving.....madness!) I dropped off all my friends and heading home happened to pass First Crushes car parked up next to 'friends' house. Yep, there she was a tangled mess of hair, makeup and my yellow outfit, wrapped round my new love interest in the front seat of his car.........

That truly was it! There was a calm but small scene and I told her she better be at my house in the morning to return my clothes! We never socialised again.

It was 9 years later that I saw her, I was married and pregnant with my first baby and knowing she had recently come back to the area and was working for her step-dad I called into the office one afternoon. She was thrilled to see me and we chatted a while. We talked about old times and teenage years (skirting over the unpleasant bits of course) and she told me she had always wanted to be like me! Me!?! Me????? Why????

Because apparently everyone loved me, I was sensible, people took me seriously, she loved my smooth golden brown hair, my blue eyes, my gentle golden tan. She liked my height, my long legs, my straight teeth! Jeez isn't being a teen mad! We had been total opposites and yet we had compared and envied each other all those years! She invited herself round that night to see my house and meet my husband (I can't say I wasn't a little bit uneasy at this LOL). We spent the evening catching up, drinking wine and talking about the impending birth of my new baby!

I never saw her after that........we never kept in touch....

A few months ago, 21 years later, she has found me on Facebook through a friend of a friend. She now lives down south and is married and has 2 boys much younger than my girls. We have chatted briefly on FB chat and we have commented on a few of each others photos. She then announced that she and her hubby were coming up to my home city in February and maybe we could meet up and go for Sunday lunch somewhere. I hesitantly agreed.

I then got a further message a few weeks later telling me that they were coming up to watch the Rugby (some corporate event of her husbands) and that could they join us for a meal or take-away in the evening....oh and could they sleep on my floor?????? I replied that I could do better than that, they could have my daughters room for the night as she would be at her boyfriends. Why did I do that?? Why didn't I just say no?? What got into me??

I have now received a message to say that they will be at our house around lunch time Saturday, that hubby 'may' go an visit an old friend of his and she could 'spend some time' with me and have a 'massive catch up' before they head off to the rugby match and then come back to us for food and bed....

Am I wrong to feel royally pissed off at all this? I know that I have gone along with it, that I could have said No, that I could have made excuses or said we were away.... I am not sure why I haven't. Perhaps some bizarre need to not let the past influence me, to still appear to be lovely, warm, friendly, forgiving me, it was after all 30 years ago, we are different people......aren't we?

Then there is the part of me that thinks I have managed perfectly without being in contact with her for all that time, why the hell should I feel any need to resume that contact now?

I also know that part of my reluctance and worry is that my hubby and now won't be able to put on a believable 'front', all our friends know how things are between us, we don't have to pretend or hide the distance between us, we are usually seen in public at do's or parties, plenty of people to mingle and mix with, we don't have to put on the facade of the 'Happy Couple'. This time it will be just the 2 of us with the 2 of them, so much harder to hide the cracks, I'm truly not sure how apparent our cracks are to an outsider.
I also feel I am once again 'being used'......or is that a terribly cynical assumption? Had it been the other way round I wouldn't have dreamed of inviting myself to stop over with what are effectively strangers, I would have booked a cheap hotel for my weekend and asked if they would be free for a drink and a meal..... So maybe we are still SO so different......

*sighs and wonders whether to feign some personal drama that means I have to leave the country that weekend*

The Gift

I have recently finished reading a book, one of my favourite type, fiction, a bit of a tear jerker, funny in places, you know the sort, an easy read. 
The main character wasn't a particularly good man, bogged down by misplaced loyalties and personal goals, self centred and blind to the person he had become and yet cleverly he was delivered to you in a way that made you care about him, you wanted to find him likable. 

He befriended a mysterious stranger who seemed down on his luck and in return was given The Gift. The Gift of being able to be two people, to be in two places at any one time, to carry out two sets of commitments simultaneously. What an amazing feat, how utterly brilliant that would be if only it were possible! 


 


I could be here living in the bosom of my once-adequate marriage, loving and caring for my girls, close by my widowed father, not in the least concerned with the lack of passion, intimacy and companionship in my love life. Because elsewhere there was the 'Other' me, loving and living, laughing and sharing my 'Other' life with my lover, the 'Other' K, the one who was free of commitments and guilt, free to love me and be mine and full of the life and love I crave....... 

And he in turn could remain where he needs to be, with his children and their mother, with his friends, family and neighbours, unrocking their world and not caring about its similar inadequacies because his 'Other' self had me....!

Of course the price for this wondrous gift for our questionable hero was his life  (there's always the kill joy downside eh!) ....The Gift was given to him so he could tie up loose ends, make amends and complete his personal goals all before his untimely end...... 

So with that in mind I'll happily give it a miss and carry on with my imperfect lives and loves  ....but it was a lovely dream on a damp dreary windy Sunday afternoon 

A Vent into the Void...Not

Its hardly a void is it? Not when there are people out there reading my words. Of course I admit there aren't many of you, a handful of folks intrigued or bored enough to devour my meagre words...but hey my lovelies! you fill the void! So I shall vent to you!

You now know that the relationship with 'K' has been, at least partially, resumed. We chat on an almost daily basis, have arranged a lunch date in early March and are hoping to plan a 'holiday' together ....ha ha ha its a day stolen from his time owed from work but it means we can spend a whole day together, we may go into London and explore!

Now for those of you of a delicate disposition please shield your eyes but I have written that we engage in sexual play of an adult nature before so you shouldn't be too shocked. We manage to lose ourselves in the erotic world of cyber, we make love with words and voices over the phone and we also play Femdom D/s games through the mediums of email, text and the web....shocking stuff!

This is the sum total of my sex life at the moment having not had any intimate contact with my husband for 19 months....nothing....zilch. It makes me sad. Not because I am not having sex with my husband, more because I am not having sex at all! I am a mere *@$?# years old and I have so much love and passion and warmth to give, truly the thought of never making love again makes me groan....and so NOT in a good way! But I have found that amazing 'cyber' sex is better than unsatisfactory real sex and so.........

I also am honest with my husband, as I have previously written, I never saw the point in creating more lies once I had been honest and everything was in the open, I don't go out to be cruel and I don't tell if I'm not ask but if I am I don't lie or pretend.

My Love and I have reverted to our past ways and tell each other often of our affections and thoughts and feelings, its what we do and do it exceptionally well.

So when this weekend he and I got into a wee discussion about morals and I 'jokingly' referred to them as a 'pile of poo' he retorted that was something we have never agreed on and that he was still making "a pathetic attempt at morality" (He means because he has spelled out to me at the end of last year that although he loves me intensely he can "never act on that love" - in other words I don't get shagged!) A follow up text confirmed what I was already thinking, that the irony of that comment wasn't lost on him as he was at that very moment walking around a Garden Centre wearing a pair of ladies panties at my instruction with a semi-erection! Enough said!

I was furious! I bit my tongue and simmered for a while before replying. But when I did I brought to his attention that whatever he thought of MY morals or views on them, it wasn't me that was living a lie or deceiving my spouse. When he and I first met and delved into our 'affair' he seemingly did an extremely good job at convincing wifey that all was good and dandy, for when he finally came clean and told her all she was shocked, she hadn't got a clue, she hadn't been suspicious, she was upset that he claimed he had been so unhappy with her and she hadn't been aware, as a husband he had 'ticked all her boxes'!

We now once again have lots of contact, we speak most days, he tells me he loves me, we share sexual times arousing each other with words and playing games when I know we are both focussed on each other and not our immediate surroundings....so either she is blind or he is doing another bloody good job of making all appear hunky dory at home!

I don't think its my view of 'poo-shaped-morals' that needs to be questioned at all at this moment in time!

End of vent *grins broadly* Thank you for listening..... 

The Missing Piece

I perhaps feel that when I first joined here all my words were anonymous, ramblings and rants, cathartic mind clearings, gentle unravelling of thought processes. I reposted all my old MySpace blogs and I've written about my life, my loves, my desires, my disappointments. My blogs have told the story of my 'sad' marriage, explained my discovery of Femdom through the reign of my glorious love-affair and acted as therapy during the eventual heart break of recovering from that. 

But as you get regular readers it becomes less anonymous, less venting into the void and although many comments bring support, advise, words of wisdom and insight, some can feel critical and judgemental. 

The adult site I am a member of and used to blog on also lost its feeling of anonymity and I found I lost the ability to open up and let the words flow....I also felt I lost my ‘Tormentress’ mojo. I stopped posting in the forum there, I stopped reading the posts, I avoided the blogs of others, I stomped around their chatroom still a little but felt I had lost the essence of being the dominant woman I had discovered. 

It was in the middle of last year that 2 very important things happened. Firstly I met up with 'K' again, a gorgeous summer’s afternoon spent picnicking and sitting on a blanket in our country park. The most significant part of that meeting was the admission by him that his love for me hadn’t altered, it hadn’t gone away, it still remained and felt as intense as it had done 20 months earlier when we had parted. 


Now this was a bit of a shock for me, I had been working hard on being the ‘friendly-ex-who-could-maintain-casual-contact’. It thrilled me, it terrified me, it comforted me. 
He loved me YAY! 
Oh fuck he loved me!!! 
Awww he DID love me, I wasn’t mad to still feel it myself!


But of course along with that came all sorts of other emotions. Where did we go from here? I simply didn't dare begin to examine what was going on in my head and heart in case I just couldn't get the lid on it all again! 

Later that month my Mum suffered heart failure and had her pacemaker fitted. As I previously wrote she never fully recovered and when I met up with 'K' again at the start of October I sobbed to him that I was so afraid that I would lose her before Christmas, that I knew she was dying and how scared I was. My beautiful Mummy was admitted back in hospital a mere 4 days later and suffered a horrendous stroke 3 days after that. I leaned on ‘K’ heavily. 

I always wrote that he was my dearest friend as well as my lover and submissive and if anything put that friendship to the test, it was then. He was simply wonderful. He held my hand from afar, messages of comfort and support, an ear to rant into when the world felt unjust, words of love and gentle guidance when I felt alone. I can never thank him enough for the time he held me across the miles through Mums last days and over the time of her funeral….. 

But although all this time I had so many emotions and thoughts raging through me I found I simply couldn't face putting words onto a page. Everything seemed too huge, too painful, too dangerous, like a split bean-bag, it would stay intact if left alone but if you moved it you were likely to end up with its guts bursting over the entire space...... 

After the funeral I let go of his hand, I needed him to know that although I was eternally grateful for his care of me when I needed it he was free to turn away once more if he needed to. He hasn’t done. We have maintained wonderful daily contact, we have laughter and chatter and gossipy giggles on the phone! We both have wonderful new fancy-pants phones that mean we can keep in contact by email, text, chat, skype, carrier pigeon…..any number of mediums! And tentatively we have explored what was always utterly wonderful D/s play. 

Now I am not sure where quite this leads us or where it will end up. I do know that I am in a very different place than before, but I don’t need to dissect and examine any of what is still us…not just yet at least. he tells me he simply stopped feeling angry at himself for loving me, at me for loving him. Our future is uncertain and imperfect but we know that we still want each other in our lives.......in his words he is "pretty sure our journeys lie on parallel tracks"....so only time will tell, after all we have forever.....don't we? 

What I will say is that I had (almost) forgotten how consuming, intense, mind-melting and intimate play can be, even remotely performed for each other. I feel like I have found my missing piece, and I shall do whatever it takes to keep that piece safe and protected, I don’t intend losing it again…. 
 

Someone Like You........

This is a truly beautiful song, I love her voice and the lyrics to this are just wonderfully poignant for me...
I hope you enjoy........

A Terrible End of a Beautiful Life

This is really hard to write. My head has been full of so much stuff over the last few weeks and yet despite the fact that this is the precise reason I started this blog, to anonymously vent into the void of the World Wide Weird, I haven't been able to put down the thought patterns, processes and consuming ideas into real words.

Lets start at the beginning, or is it the end? The main focus and purpose of this here blog was to decipher cerebral ramblings and untangle the web of hurt I had found myself in.....or had I wrapped myself in it? Who knows, it all feels pretty irrelevant at the moment, and yet it does still tinge all my thoughts and emotions.

October 1st was to be the day that I was to meet K after our self imposed quarantine from each other. From my perspective I had given him the space I had presumed he needed, space to succeed or fail with getting relationship clearer, for me it gave me breathing space a little and although as I wrote, I found it incredibly hard at first, I did get used to it knowing that I had a firm date to see him again.

From his perspective it seems he felt I was waiting for a response, a decision as to whether he could still find a way for us to be together or whether he was going to 'make' his marriage work.

We had a afternoon together, we chatted, laughed and cried. He told me that he couldn't be with me, that he loved me but that he had to be with his children and ultimately, because of his certain desire to be a 'family man', the mother of his children. I accepted it. What else could I do? We toyed gently with the idea of both trying to remain friends while at the same admitting that neither of us knew if this was possible for either of our heads or hearts.

Three days later my darling Mum was admitted back into hospital with heart failure. And this is where my writing will become a little erratic so I forewarn you now, that this is a jumble of fact, regret, wishes and what-ifs.......

As I previously wrote, Mum had a pacemaker fitted back in July when we were told her heart and arteries were severely damaged and the pacemaker was the only option they could take as it was too risky to perform more invasive surgery. On Monday 4 October the ambulance took her into the A&E Department at 10.30am. My Dad rang me when he knew I would be home from work at 5.30pm, I went straight to see him. He was a bit upset that when he had rang the hospital she had still been in A&E and they hadn't located a bed for her. I rang the hospital, it 6.15pm and she was still in the Accident & Emergency bays. Not in the Decisions Unit Ward I asked the staff nurse? No, we have no beds and we decided it would be better for her to be where we could see her..... But she is 84, alone, suffering from heart failure and has now been in your department since 10.30 this morning! Yes, I'm afraid so..... And do you think that is acceptable?? No its not ideal I'm afraid.....But an ambulance crew has just arrived this minute to take her to the other hospital......

Dad and I went to the other hospital to meet her when she got there, we stayed till after 10 at night when it was obvious we were in the way and they would get her into a proper bed as soon as they could. Twelve hours on a trolley......... God bless her, not one complaint.....

I visited her Monday night, and Tuesday night and Wednesday night, when she was in good spirits and bright, sitting by the bed, dressed, made-up and making us laugh out loud at her observations of hospital life, all spoken rather too loudly to be discreet which amused my girls all the more! I text K on the way home to say how much brighter she was and how I felt happier after seeing her that night.

Thursday at about 5pm before I could visit her she suffered a stroke. Apparently a clot from her damaged heart had caused it. Dad and I rushed to the hospital as soon as we got the word. Oh what a mess, what a different Mum we found! Propped up in the bed, incoherent, wig removed, teeth removed, in a hospital gown, distressed and agitated. We spoke to her, she knew we were there, she wanted to pee but refused point blank to use a bed pan saying she was in her chair at home and Dad would be cross if she wet it. No amount of persuasion from either me or Dad could convince her otherwise. She became more and more distressed and finally after what seemed like hours they catheterised her.

Still she shrieked and wailed and thrashed about not believing that she didn't need to sit on a toilet. I stopped the night with her. I got one hours sleep,so did the rest of the ward, after I finally convinced the registrar to sedate her for her own sake as surely being so agitated wasn't good for her.....

I'd called my brother the previous night and told him what had happened, so at 7am my Dad came to take over from me and I went home to shower, breakfast, rest and wait for my brother to arrive from Wales. We returned to the hospital.

She was transferred back to the original hospital now as a stroke patient, she was examined and we were gently told there was little hope and we were to expect the worse. My girls came to visit her despite my Dad not wanting them to see her like that, I felt that they were grown up enough to face it, they were both in tears but she was thrilled to know they were there. They told her they loved her and she told them she loved them too. They were so distraught when they left I was left wondering whether I had done the right thing, until about an hour later I got a text from my eldest to say they were so glad they had come, that they could still see their Nana there and were happy they had been able to hold her and kiss her.

They moved her to a side room.

She couldn't feel or move her left leg and arm with any control, she couldn't see well and her left eye never opened fully, her speech was slurred and she failed each 'swallow test' they did on her and after 4 days they put in a feeding tube and began to treat her for a chest infection that was brewing. She got weaker each day, barely opened her eyes. The upside of this was that she became too weak to thrash about, she had already taken chunks out of both her shins kicking her legs about while so terribly agitated and it took another day for them to locate 'bumpers' to cover the cot sides to protect her. Some nurses would ensure that the pillows were pushed between bed sides and mattress to keep her safe then another would come in to change the bed and not put them back! More bumps, more bruises, more blood stained sheets and so it went on.

I watched as my warm, beautiful, radiant Mummy faded away. We sat with her for almost 12 hours a day that first weekend, Dad and my brother relieving me for 2 or 3 hours at a time, I hated leaving her at night as I feared it would the last time I saw her. She dreamt vividly and was fully aware of her predicament. One evening sitting beside her I suddenly had this terrible fear that this bloody pacemaker was keeping her alive!! She should have gone, she should be at peace and that fucking thing sent its electric pulses into her irreparably damaged heart and kept her alive!! I was so upset and angry! I dashed home and googled and was partially reassured when it told me that a pacemaker only had the ability to 'pace' healthy heart tissue, that once heart tissue was truly dead it couldn't make it beat. But still I was tormented that it was stopping her from having a swifter, more dignified end.

More sitting beside her while she alternated between gasping desperately for breath and not breathing at all despite the permanent oxygen feed. The Consultant told me it was the way with a brain damaged by stroke, the bodies finely tuned breathing mechanism was buggered, so instead of even breaths ensuring oxygen levels remained stable the brain stopped the body breathing when oxygen levels rose and when they dropped they would start this pattern of gasped breaths till the levels were sufficient again. It made it slightly less heartbreaking to watch. I was told that evening that her organs were failing, we knew for certain then that there was no hope. And it was a relief......

What would we have done with her if she were to survive, she was trapped in this body that had let her down, still with a catheter, in diapers now she was being fed, couldn't eat, couldn't move, could barely talk, drifting in and out of consciousness the whole time....shit what sort of existence was that?!? You wouldn't keep an animal alive like that and yet there they were still treating her and feeding her and talking like we had decisions to make about her future!

On day 6 I took compassionate leave from work (though I had only been there 2 afternoons anyway) and sat by her bed from early morning till late at night. When she stirred she knew I was there, I brushed her baby fine hair and washed and moisturised her face when she woke, I moistened her mouth with wet swabs and coated her lips in a soft salve, she knew I was there as I held her hand for countless hours and talked gently to her when she woke wanting to know what time it was, what day it was, had my nephews baby been born yet,  where was my Dad, how were my girls. Dad came and sat with her for the afternoons, I watched as he held her hand, called her darling and smoothed her face, kissing her mouth when he left, a love affair that had lasted a lifetime, the only woman he had ever 'known'...... I felt his heart breaking as he watched her.

On the 8th day I arrived at the hospital in the morning to find her distressed and with a temperature, my brother had arrived back that morning and he and Dad joined me an hour and a half later. The doctors did their rounds, we were once again taken to a private room and told that a new infection had taken a hold on her, that there was 2 options, we could let them treat her with stronger drugs that may work and give her an extra few days/weeks or we could opt to stop all treatment and 'let nature take its course'. We all agreed on the latter, we all felt that was what was best and right and always had been.

The intravenous was removed within 15 minutes, I took the oxygen tube away myself, the nurse withdrew the feeding tube and I cleansed and moisturised my Mums face for the last time. The doctor had said we would probably have around a day with her. I wanted her clean so asked the nurses to come in and do her morning wash. They spent what turned out to be a precious 30 minutes washing her, changing her and putting her into a clean night dress. My Dad and brother decided to go grab some lunch (brother is diabetic) and return later when I could go and grab something to eat.

They left at 12.10pm. I sat with her and held her hand, her face pale and cool to touch. Her breathing slowed and became uneven. I leaned over her and kissed her lovely face, I told her how much I loved her and thanked her for being a wonderful Mum and for loving my girls, I told her I wanted her to rest, that she wasn't alone and that she should let go and as my tears fell on the pillow beside her face she took 3 strangled breaths and stopped.

I watched and waited, knowing really that there wasn't going to be another but desperately not wanting to believe it. I stroked her face and cried. In relief and fear and sorrow. It had been just an hour and 25 minutes since they had removed all the tubes.

And now for the wishes, what-ifs and regrets.....

I wish they had never put the pacemaker in, I wish they had discussed it with us all before doing it not just taking my Mums consent into consideration. My Mum would agree to anything to be an easy patient, that was her way. If they had said to her "We're going to amputate your legs Margaret, so the podiatrist doesn't have to deal with those feet of yours any more" she would have agreed, to be helpful, to be easy for them. I wish we had insisted on knowing the implications of her having it placed.

I wish that my Dad had told me when she was admitted that second time, I would have gone to be with her at the hospital, I wouldn't have had her there in A&E, alone, frightened and stuck on a trolley for over 9 hours. Perhaps if I had been there they would have made more of an effort to get her a bed sooner, maybe that all contributed to the clot developing and heading off round her body....

I wish I hadn't insisted that they bathe and sort her the morning she died, I wish we'd had those extra precious 30 minutes or so to be with her, I'd thought I was doing what was best, I had wanted her feeling clean and fresh, I thought we had longer....

I wish she had died sooner, I wish she hadn't had to suffer the indignity, the distress, the fear of a prolonged death, I wish that if there was no hope that there wasn't a way of making a persons exit from this world smoother, kinder, gentler....

None of these things are helpful, none will change anything or bring my Mum back, I have spent the last 4 weeks trying to squash them and not think about them but finally I have had the courage to write them down hoping that in some cathartic way that it will bring them to a close. The things I have to try and forget are the times she told Dad and I that she wanted to die, that "it takes an awfully long time to die after a heart attack", the murmurs and mumbled "what an dreadful dreadful way to live". Those are the things I can't let myself dwell on.

What I do have to be glad of is the time I did have with my Mum, I feel honoured to have been with her to the end, I feel grateful to have had the chance to tell her and show her how much she was loved. Small things are the ones I have to nurture in my extensive library of memories, like while doing the little ritual of her face cleansing one morning, she said slowly to me "You are so clever, you know just what I need", the times I took her hand and kissed her when I arrived and she told me how she loved it when she heard my voice, the small smiles we shared when I was doing things for her, the glimpses of her humour that showed through even to the very end. They are the things that I have to hold onto and remember.

All through this K has been wonderful, held my hand and supported me from afar, been there with words of comfort and advise, let me weep to him on the phone when I couldn't bear to talk to any one else, and I shall never forget that nor be able to thank him adequately. I know I can think of him as a very dear friend.

What Do You See?

This poem was found in the bedside locker on a ward at one of our local hospitals when it was being cleared out after the death of an elderly patient. It was published in the daily newspaper a number of years ago and for some reason my father kept the cutting. He showed me it this weekend and it struck a special cord as I have so recently lost my own Mum in the very same hospital.

It makes poignant reading........

What do you think you see nurses, what do you think you see?

What are you thinking when you are looking at me?

A crabbit old woman, not very wise,

Uncertain of habit, with far away eyes,

Who dribbles her food and makes no reply,

When you say in a loud voice “I do wish you’d try”

Who seems not to notice the things that you do,

And forever is losing a stocking or shoe,

Who unresisting or not, lets you do as you will,

With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill,

Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see?

Then open your eyes nurse, you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,

As I move at your bidding, as I eat at your will,

I’m a small child of ten with a father and mother,

Brothers and sisters who love one another,

A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet,

Dreaming now soon that a lover she’ll meet;

A bride soon at twenty my heart skips a beat,

Remembering the vows that I promised to keep,

At twenty-five now I have young of my own,

Who need me to build a secure, happy home;

 A woman of thirty, my young now grow fast,

Bound to each other with ties that should last,

At forty my young sons, now grown, shall be gone,

But my man stays beside me to see I don’t mourn.

At fifty once more babies play round my knees,

Again we know children, my loved one and me,

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead,

I look to the future, I shudder with dread,

My young are all busy rearing young of their own,

And I think of the years and the love I have known.

I’m an old woman now and nature is cruel,

‘Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool,

The body it crumbles, grace and vigour depart.

There is now a stone where once was a heart.

But inside this old body a young girl still dwells

And now and again my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys, I remember the pain,

And I’m loving and living all over again.

And I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast

And accept the stark fact that nothing will last.

So open your eyes nurse, open and see,

Not a crabbit old woman, look closer – see me!

RIP MY Darling Migglets

My Mummy finally lost her fight at 12.40 yesterday lunchtime. I was with her...alone....which was a little scary and bizarre and surreal, but ultimately I wouldn't have had it any other way. I had the honour of spending the last moments of her life with her and being able to tell her between sobs, how much she was loved and admired, I thanked her for being a warm and wonderful Mum and Nana to my girls, I was able to tell her it was ok to let go, that she wasn't alone and that there would be peace......

I shall miss her with all my heart but am relieved that she has no more suffering to endure. She was ceaselessly bright and cheerful despite many years of ill health, she always, what my Dad refers to as, 'took care of herself'. He meant she always made the effort with a little make-up and never failed to emerge with her pearls and earrings in place......she was a lady.

My Silence

My darling Mummy is extremely ill. We were warned to expect the worse this last weekend but it seems she is still fighting....
I am exhausted and emotional and trying to be brave for everyone.
I read all your blogs when I get a moment to catch up and lose myself in your words, funnies and antics. I just can't write any of my own at the moment. Part of me wants to rant and rave into the page ...... but I just can't.

Keep writing guys, they are my moments escape from what is going on here.....and I shall be back when I can..
x

Close Encounter......

Quite amusingly my husband teased me when we first met many years ago that he was an alien, from a different planet. It was a silly tease and I can't remember all these years later how it began, something to do with the shape his fingers made when held close together. It used to make me chuckle when if anything occurred that was a little extraordinary we would grin and agree that it was probably due to his alien background!

When the girls were smaller I told them of this silliness and a few times they joined in with the giggle, a chorus of "it's cos daddy's an alien!!" when he did something peculiar.

Of course it now doesn't seem quite so funny, when I think back to how detached we have become, how hard he is to relate to, how 'deep' he keeps his feelings. Sometimes I wonder how I ever thought I could get beneath the surface and know him.

My Mummy isn't doing so well, unlike the warm, radiant lady I have known all my life she is now struggling. She is pale, cool, gaunt. Her once unwavering appetite has diminished. She is constantly breathless. She is fading, her heart failing. It was her birthday on Friday, and too many visitors, all well meaning, wore her out. She'd had a bad night and when I visited on Saturday she wasn't very bright. When I got home I got a upset and tearful and hubby gave me a hug and said it was understandable, it was only human to get upset about seeing my Mum like that.

And that made me think back to when his Mum (remember MIL?) was so ill and stopping with us. So with a (regrettably) scathing remark I mumbled about him obviously not being human as he had shown no emotion over the demise of his own Mum.......
The 'idea' that he might be from another world fleeted across my mind and this time it didn't seem funny at all!

I read a lovely book the recently where there was marital disharmony (of course it all turned out all right and had a happy ending - damn) but there was a single line in there that so summed up how I often feel at times when hubby and I 'share' a moment, I felt I had to quote it.....

"...the mortar of misunderstanding filled the small crack I had made in my hard, dark shell"

A perfect line, one I would love to claim as my own but sadly not. But there it is, my feelings in a nutshell.

The Empty Swan Song

I have lost my voice.....

Not in the physical sense, but I have lost my blog voice. I simply can't write at the moment. Nothing that is in my head and heart feels exposable. I can't write of my darkest fears for fear they actually may look simply too frightening written here in black and white (or whatever colour my font turns them into on the page) Equally I dare not reveal my deepest hopes, they too may look hideously selfish and fantastical when staring right back at me from the screen.

I feel the only way I am surviving at the present time is by being swan-like.....serene, calm and pure, all surface beauty....the frantic paddling of my feet below the line of the water unseen by the passer-by or casual observer.

In a nutshell I am missing contact with K like mad! The first 3 weeks were hideous! I was totally obsessed with the thought of him, everything I did or thought felt like I simply had to tell him about it! I am not sure whether it was helped or hindered by the fact he was away on his annual family holiday, so would have been unavailable to me much of the time even if we had still been a red-hot-item! I knew that I couldn't make contact, but I also imagined him having a fabby-dabby family time and life being all rosy and sunshiny!

Last week I did contact him, regretted it the moment I had pressed the send button on the damn phone but ultimately was glad I did. He called me, we spoke, for close on an hour. We won't make contact again now until the allotted day of Friday October 1st, we have both agreed, but it never ceases to surprise me how once we have spoken I am filled with this wonderful calm, a feeling of still and warmth.....it wears off, but it is comforting and welcome while it lasts.

The reason for this break on the embargo was I have secured myself a new role at work.
I have spent the last 2 years and 9 months working 3 days in a position that for the most part I have loathed. I have become fairly good at it, I have been recognised and rewarded for being good at it and although I hate to admit it there are days I have come home and felt I have had a good day but for the most part I have felt frustrated and constrained. So back in June I applied for a position as a seconded Training Partner. I was invited for a second interview and was successful! I am thrilled to bits to finally be able to use some of my other people skills in the work place and work in a role that I hope to find more fulfilling.....I simply had to let him know I had got it!

But that leads to another seed of niggly stuff in my head. The position is full time. I originally took my job because they gave me a contract of 3 full days, Mon - Weds each week, allowing me to have every Thursday and Friday free, free to speak on the phone for hours to K, free to indulge my time at home to thinking thoughts of us, free to jump in my car at any given moment and drive to a rendezvous spot to meet him. It was one of the things that made us possible. The full time hours will keep me busy and focussed, they will give me a personal strength and a little more financial security. But they also mean that Friday 1st October could be the last time I may see K, if not for ever...for a very long time...and that is one of those 'frantic-underwater-swan-feet" moments that I dare not let myself think of.

The situation at home is calmer too. We attended 2 sessions of Relate marriage guidance counselling. We needed far more, we can't really afford the fees and both felt after the second meeting that while it had opened up a little communication it wasn't perhaps the best time for us to get the most out of it...... we haven't discounted future appointments but recognise that we both need to feel committed to either resolve (which I don't feel is possible) or compromise and find another route for settling. It appears to have acted a little like a lot of stressful situations do, it draws together those that have the shared experience..the 'ooh we survived that  together' syndrome! So we are being a little kinder to each other, a little gentler, though we still negotiate our world like two housemates as opposed to lovers or spouses....

So I will continue to paddle serenely across this water, watch out for strong currents, avoid the weirs and keep an eye of for thick weeds and perhaps no one will notice the frantic feet paddling desperately underneath......

Fretting Mother Alert

Ok I am officially a Fretty-Mum!
Among all the other things I have described myself as on this here blog, I am now fully admitting to having "frantic-Mummy" colly-wobbles! My baby girl has headed off today to her first festival!

There is a part of me that is totally envious. The first 'concert' I ever went to was at the age of about 13 to see Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel at a local venue, the crowd capacity a staggering 1800 (I don't think it was full...). Both my girls have been attending concerts of NEC and G-Mex proportions since the tender age of 5!

But now my baby girl has gone for 5 days of festival festivities with a crowd of her college friends to Reading!
I fear she is terribly ill-prepared but all advise, suggestions, prods and offers of assistance were firmly sneered at.... she knew it was going to be 'immense', she knew the toilets would be 'gross', she knew she would have to sleep on hard ground in the cold, she knew she would have to feed herself etc etc etc....

She is sensible and careful and trustworthy. She is not stupid or foolish. But jeezeroony! It has taken all of my 'cool-Mum' legendary status to let her calmly leave today and wish her a wonderful time!

Tonight it had rained heavily, it is now 9.30pm, I have not heard from her yet. I imagine her tired and wet and possibly hungry (if they haven't eaten all their supplies on the coach down there) and trying to get their tent put up in the dark.... She won't be home till Monday......I can see this feeling a very long fretty weekend!

That Tiny Glimmer

Thursday 5 August 2010 

I miss him. It has only been 5 days and I stupidly miss him. I check my phone and my emails even while knowing that he will not make contact, I categorically know that there will be no words and yet still I check. And when there is a text or mail I am still disappointed once open to see it is not from him. Even though in my heart I know it won’t be.

What is it about human nature that clings to the tiny atoms of hope? That however much you say to yourself that there is none, that you know there is none, that you have accepted there is none…that deep down in your subconscious there is that weenie glimmer, like a tiny spark in a burned out campfire, that with the smallest waft of a breeze can glow fiercely……well that is my hope…..

And my hope is tied into so many other things. Ok, we get through the next 57 days and we reach the fated day of Friday 1^st October, because we will, God willing there is little doubt of that. And what then? A few more wafts to reignite that tiny ember and then nothing…..because in my heart I also know that, that there really is no solution to any of this. That something has got to give, there is no happy ending.

Is it selfish to want a happy ending? Sometimes I think it is and that’s probably because the ending that would feel happy for me would be the ending that would cause deep sadness to others (therefore not happy at all as that in turn would hurt me still). Yet at other times it doesn’t feel selfish, because we would all heal, everyone of us touched by this would heal in time….and maybe things would feel happier by then….

There is no happy ending. If I get what I want others feel deep pain. If I don’t get what I want there is still deep pain. It’s mess, a dreadful mess.

I have tried so hard over recent months to move on from this. In the initial period I know I wallowed and clung, I was scared that if I got over him he wouldn’t come back to me, that if I wiped it all away I would forget it all and him. Over the last year I have tried to put it behind me.

The feelings I had for him, for us, for what we shared I stuck in a box, but the temptation at first to peep and peer in and poke about was immense. So I fitted it with a tight lid. But they seemed to effervesce every so often and blow the lid clean off! So out came the sticky tape and elastic bands, wrapped tightly over the lid to keep in place but gradually they have eroded the bottom of the box and seeped out and now all I seem to be left with is a nasty mess, not contained in the pretty box at all.

So when in 57 days time we meet and talk and smile and laugh (because we will, we always do, so totally maddeningly easily and comfortably) where will it leave things then?

When we met last time we kissed. It was the first time we have kissed for 21 months. I told my friend. She said how was it? And I said like coming home………

Day 5

I was chatting to a friend today, telling them about my impending visit to the marriage guidance counsellor tomorrow.....the self imposed period of no contact with 'K' (I guess after all this time I really ought to give him a name other that 'ex-lover', My Love and 'db' ~ so you can have his initial!)

My friend asked me among all the other soul searching bits if I remember being happy with hubby in the beginning. Of course I do I replied! "Would you marry 'K'?" came one of the next lines......Yes I said. "So you know him well then???"

And I thought about it a moment....

Yes I do, I know him, after not far off 4 years of contact, hours of conversation, thousands of written words and text messages and precious hours spent together, I know him as well if not better than I knew my husband after 9 months together when we bought our first home and then married him less than a year later!

Another query followed. "Where you as happy with 'K' as you were with hubby at the start?"

And I answered that with a line that is very telling...and I have pondered on much tonight.....
I answered,  Yes I was as happy, they are 2 different things, hubby and I were in a young love, inventing a life, a home, a wedding and babies. 'K' and I were a grown up relationship based on what I love now, who I am now......

And that perhaps says an awful lot.......

A Day of Surprises and Head Muddling

Hmmm such a long time since I blogged properly! Two reasons, one I have been having serious issues with my broadband and many times have been unable to log in properly, so forgive the lack of comments and responses on your own blogs, I have tried to catch up a little this morning......and secondly I have had a lot of stuff in my head but seem to have drawn a complete blank when considering putting it down in words...... Not usually a problem for me.....

So....where to begin. Well as one of my previous blogs stated I have turned 50, its an age that has struck dread in my heart for a couple of years or more, my bestest friend and I have marvelled at how fast the years have sped by to get us to this point, how the hell have our lives passed so quickly!
It wasn't as painful as I had dreaded and I can now actually say the number without stuttering, gagging or feeling faint, I am still me, still the same, still don't feel grown up enough to be thinking any of the stuff I have to deal with.

I wanted to write then that its a defining moment in your life when you think that to be considered middle-aged is incorrect, that to be literally in my mid-life would mean I would have to live to be 100.....a highly unlikely event! This sounds a little depressing and I nearly didn't write it but in fact I think it just makes my life feel more precious, the fact I know that I have fewer years left to live than I have lived means that I have to make them important, real, worthy and memorable! It doesn't feel like a downward slope more like a peaking of my world!

I have applied for a development role at work, a position in the Training department and I am currently waiting to hear if I have been successful. Its no major career move but I am quite proud that I have re-discovered my confidence enough to consider such stuff, there have been many months passed where I felt the stuffing had been so well and truly knocked out of me that I would never have it in me again to go-out-and-get! Its felt like a long process.

Anyway we will see, I shall hear this week and if successful it will mean that my part-time 3 days a week will come to an end while I complete the secondment and I shall be working full time with less time to waste, wallow and generally loiter in corners of my head and heart that I should avoid.

Now on the subject of my heart I have met my wonderful ex-love again. Since we met back at the end of April there has been pretty regular contact, nothing of mind blowing importance just gentle forays into each others world, emails a few days apart, funnies sent to make each other smile. I have wondered quite why and how he has suddenly been so comfortable with the contact that he once rejected and told me was unwelcome. For a woman whose glass is always half full I have a very negative thought pattern when it comes to my Love.....surely it must be that he has met me, realised he feels nothing for me at all now and feels comfortable simply being a buddy with me?......or maybe his life is so complete in his hard-worked-for-marriage that now contact doesnt touch him?.....or maybe he has had another huge deluge of guilt at how I was hurt and feels an obligation to keep my chin up??

So during these 'happy' email exchanges before my holiday in Portugal it went like this.......

He:  ...Forgot to tell you I have had a haircut. A proper one, will send pic when it is looking ok, currently looks bedheady :-S Can't be long till your hol. Sunshine soon :) x

Me:  ...a proper one? last time you told me that you'd had all of 2 " off lol :) x

He: .......as for haircut its traumatically shorter! :) x

Me: ........me too! I have been cropped today! I'll show you mine if you show me yours :) x

He:     Deal! x

Me:   2nd July? x

He: ....should be cool for coffee and gossip x

So on Friday I once again set off to meet up with him.  Last time had been odd, I blogged about the distance between us, the awkward hug, but despite that there was comfortable chatter, laughter, giggles and smiles, all the stuff that we were so good at (well...not ALL the stuff...hee hee) in the snatched 45 minutes I had with him. After last time I pondered how I felt about it all and felt what I had wanted was to meet and look at him with new eyes, not the love soaked ones I had seen him through before, but with a clearer head, calmer thoughts and a few barriers in place. It worked but only in respect that I didn't fling myself at him, I didn't weep and I didn't beg him to reconsider. I spent gentle time with him and parted from him intact but I knew that my love for him hadn't altered or diminished, it was simply now under control, in a place that I could regard it......

I had decided that depending on how we approached each other this time, that I would maybe ask outright, what was all this new 'comfortable' contact really about? What was it that was now keeping us in touch?
This time was so different, apart from the contact in between times it felt so much more comfortable. He plonked himself down beside me dispensing the need for the picnic-table-barrier between us, he had brought us a picnic lunch to share in the park, the things he knew I loved, the things we shared as lovers. There was a marked difference in his body language that I felt able to mirror as opposed to having to hold myself in check.

And so we chatted, we did what we are so damn good at, we made each other smile and feel wonderful, we spoke of how things were in our lives at present. Not wonderful, for either of us. And then he suddenly said a sentence that surprised me and had my head muddled......he said "It doesn't go away does it?"

No it doesn't, it hasn't. And I was brave enough to ask if he still loved me and he does......For the first time since he put up the barriers between us more than a year ago he let me into his true thoughts and feelings.
It felt like a revelation. It felt comforting, that I wasn't the only one that felt like this, I haven't been going mad, it really was all real.

Nothing has altered. He is still doing his damnedest to make his marriage survive, he has to and I so understand that.

He spent his lunch break with me and told me he only had to go back for an hour then would be finished for the day, I said I would wait for him. I got the blanket out the car and lay on the grass under a tree and read my book, lost myself in the black and white words on the pages rather than think about the words that had been spoken. He came back full of smiles and apologised, said he felt cruel for telling me this stuff when it really altered nothing for us but I didn't want his apology, I felt relief. I know now that what we felt was real and true and good, it wasn't just about the sex, the femdom play, the kink, the lust, it was about us, him and me.....it was real. It is real still I guess......We spent another 2 hours chatting, smiling and enjoying each others company.

So now I am left with a muddled head and a jam packed heart and I have to learn to live with this knowledge and believe that if its meant to be it will be.....and if its not....well I have the most wonderful love to carry me through years......

A Heart Full of Love

I have loved 4 men in my life, deeply, intensely and irrevocably. I have been honoured to be loved back by each of them with the same fervency. Its more than some ever get to experience.

Maybe that's more than any girl deserves in one lifetime.....

Maybe I have had my lifetime share of love........

Maybe this is it.......

A Big Fat "0"

Well its been a while since I put finger to keyboard and quite a lot has happened since I did!

Firstly, well not firstly but I guess most significantly I have had a 'land-mark' birthday, you know, one of those nasty ones with a '0' at the end of it, one you seriously consider lying about, leaving the country during or simply claiming alzheimers and denying all knowledge of.....yes it was one of those.

Being the mother of two beautiful, firm, slender, wrinkle free children who only see that a birthday is something to be excited about and should be celebrated there was no chance to get away with any of the above options and not being a recent lottery winner I didn't have the option of a 2 months round the world cruise!

The 'big' day itself fell on a Saturday and so in a rash moment I decided what the hell! I would have a party!! Completely bottling the idea of a venue (in case no one came and there ended up about 15 of us rattling in a beautifully balloon festooned room) I chose to have a house party.

I had the time of my life! My celebration really started on the preceding Thursday when a 'friend' took me out for dinner (I shall save that for another blog) save to say that I was treated wonderfully, laughed lots, easy chatter and company, delicious food and went home feeling as smiley and content as Cheshire Cat.....

Friday I met friend for coffee and breakfast and then after saying our goodbye met an old school friend for lunch. I have known this elegant lady for over 30 years and lost touch completely after we left school, (another blog material) but we now meet every so often to catch up. Another lovely treat. In the evening we were joined by my brother and daughters boyfriend and we shared wonderful chinese food and much laughter.....

And then my big day arrived! My girls spoilt me utterly and among other gifts I have a spa day to look forward to! I had a much longed for ipod (can't work the damn thing but its tiny, sleek, 8GB and orange!) and oodles of gifts and cards to open.

Night saw my garden alight with fairy lights in the gazebo and balloons! Lots of people, family, friends, neighbours, work colleagues all descended and filled my home with laughter and chatter, more gifts and cards and flowers! To be honest I was a little over-whelmed by it all, I barely drank until about 11 as I kept putting down my glass to greet and hug people and by the time i had been swept along my new arrivals I had lost the still almost full beverage and had another one poured, only to be repeated after a couple of sips!

I danced and laughed my way to the wee hours and then fell gratefully into bed. Sunday saw family and birthday tea and finally my 4 days of celebrations drew to a gentle close. Although I have dreaded that particular birthdays impending approach for many many months, I can honestly say I had a ball.

Perhaps I can start a new decade, afresh and clean, the last one contained some monumental highs and some heart shattering lows.....perhaps this one will be kind enough to be a little gentler on me as I started it so well??