from "no room at the inn" to "a room with a...

. . .view" and I like it!
.
no doubt endless descriptions of herons, swans, gulls; pools, ripples, waves; bridges, cars, taxis, buses, tube trains; helicopters, planes just overhead on a flight path to Heathrow with landing gear emerging from their bellies, planes so high above the only evidence of which is their vapour trails criss-crossing in the sky; dawns, sunsets, the moon appearing over the horizon whilst edging its way towards a sliver; the river, the flow of which at this point goes due east and due west (the direction of which depends on the tide); etc etc will follow
.
right now I have to go food shopping: the cupboard is bare and this Old Mother Hubbard is hungry
.

have a good day,
dear reader
(that'll be YOU!!)

.

ps dave: for some reason I can't even comment on my own blog, but I don't dance because I have two right feet

beautiful rhythm

.
remember, a while ago,
when I was contemplating the life of a phoenix?
.
possibly not,
why should you recall all that I jabber on about?
.
(I was singing a different tune then)
.
well. . .

. . .the above is my new perch

it has very good views!
I hope you'll join me there

XXX

no room at the inn

so the NHS hasn't managed to come up trumps - there's no bed for me (and from what I've heard from reliable sources about the Local Loony Bin - this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black, I do apologise - this might be a VERY GOOD THING in disguise)

XCH's very generous medical insurance cover finally runs out tomorrow - they gave me two extra weeks gratis, I'm very grateful for what I've had

I'm not well enough to look after the children, they are safe and sound in the new house with XCH and a nanny - but I am determined that one day I will be
.

2 + 2 = 4
.

there are some things
you just can't fiddle. . .

..
I won't be out on the street, I won't be "home" (funny, I can't even remember living there for the two weeks that I apparently did) but I do have a stable

I'm alive
.

I'm thankful
.

I have a second chance at life
.
I'm going to try my hardest
in a relaxed manner
not to screw up again. . .
..

:-)

in the evenings I sit in the corridor and copy the artwork on the walls; I managed to swap one drawing (a Van Gogh image of lillies) for two packets of Opal Fruits (or "Starburst", as they are currently known), my favourite so far is the Hepworth "holes" picture. . .

. . . some people walk straight past as I draw others want to look (but I'm shy!), some sit down and we talk about art - have had some lovely converstations about Hepworth's studio and the sculpture in its garden atop the hill at St Ives (now part of The Tate)

yesterday I had all day with which to occupy myself so I sat in the garden and drew (or attempted to) the things I can see from my "not raining/50%+" place

the well stocked garden border which I look along the length of stretched out in front of me - the "daisy" plant, with its dead heads, its new buds, the white petalled bright yellow centred flowers and all; something with big curly thick leaves and short fibrous stems, that look like stubby rhubarb, but isn't rhubarb; something with big zig-zaggedy-jaggedy-spikey leaves and long stalks of many individual flowers that are a little like a cross between snap dragons and foxgloves; something with big crinkly purple petalled flowers with orangey-yellow centres, on the end of long straggley stalks; the generously proportioned poppy, upon which originally when I arrived there were many pale lilac coloured petals, now it's just the seed heads, slowly turning from a pea green to a crisp dried up yellow; some orange lilies, some yellow lilies and some deep deeep deep almost black purple lilies; a hugely-tall-elongated-reaching-to-the sky thistle, the flower heads of which have had waves of tiny lilac flowers travelling up and down them - attracting many a bumble bee. . .

the view looking up thru the blossoming cherry tree I drew the branch, twigs, and stalks of the leaves, and the leaves themselves as they overlapped and their colours changed as the sunlight dappled thru them

then! it occured to me that was was most interesting was the dappled sunlight - coming thru the gaps between the leaves - rippling over my paper (like many small pebbles being thrown in a pond at random intervals) as I drew my chosen image

so I drew the shapes of the sunlight on the page quite tricky, as it was very breezy and the leaf shadow sunlight ripples were moving and flowing across the page totally randomly

I ended up with some lovely sheets in my sketch book full of odd-shaped-not-quite-circular/oval/elipse/rings and overlapping curly lines. . .

it was a strange sensation, drawing light and I have no idea if I will be able to add colour, or how - but the simple black lines on a white background are quite effective

:-)

back to life, back to reality

Smallest Person had the day off school yesterday due to a teachers' training day, which I hadn't realised she was due to have when I arranged that yesterday would be the day I was going to meet my father. . .

The Teen (who was angling for the day off anyhow, as he's excited about the new house) then decided he would have to miss school to make sure I was OK about the whole "meeting my father" thing. . .

(Middle One said he'd rather go to school and not bunk off, thank you very much - clever boy)

so, rather than my father and I meeting - for only the second time since autumn of the year 2000 - alone, I had two of the three most precious people in my life with me

it was excruciatingly awful

that's all I'll say for now, (she writes, but then rabbits on a little anyhow) apart from the fact the lawyer phoned me at half ten to say the house was mine and the three of us were just about to go over and have a whoop and a holler and run about our new home and take photos of the view from the roof terrace, and my father wasn't due until "just before lunch" (which was going to be at one o'clock) when he turned up early. . .

.
really early. . .

really really early. . .

(just after the lawyer phoned)

(quite how I could have forgotten that as a child under his jurisdiction we always turned up everywhere two hours early, I do not know) (I kid you not) (not just about the "two hours early", that used to be pretty awful, but I also don't know why I'd forgotten that aspect of his character) (and we always had to leave early, as my mother used to say it was "impolite to overstay one's welcome") (FUCK IT - what's that Phillip Larkin poem about your parents?)

*deep breath*

he tried his hardest to take over proceedings, I tried my hardest to be an adult about it and not let my inner child cower before his "authority", not have my children feel he was their father and they had to cower. . .
.

he kept calling me Glenda

what took the biscuit was when the estate agent who sold me the house was handing over the keys to my new abode, and my father reached over to take them. . .

that was when I proactively drew on all my inner strength
and the learning from the past few years kicked in

. . .I have learned a lot in the past few years

anyhow

anyhow. . .

*relaxed breathing*

what else happened yesterday? someone I care about very very deeply said some very hurtful things about me. . .

*calm*

.
XCH flew back in from wherever he'd been on business and cycled over to the new abode a little later in the afternoon and got really excited about it and started suggesting masses of things I could do to it - really really good ideas! things I'd love to do! - I gave him a slightly withering look and reminded him that he was my current and only source of income and the budget I'm on might not quite stretch to the cosmetic delights he's suggesting seeing as I'm doing structural work (and have cushions to buy)

I think he has house envy actually, and wishes he had bought it instead of me. . . perhaps I should suggest we swap, and I'll live in his swanky flat with a view of the river!

The Teen, who was planning to stay with me "at home" yesterday evening, to keep me company, his idea not mine, he knew I was a little stressed out after my day, got the roundup call from his tribe and went out. . .

but, as they say, today is a new day. . .

I hope yours is a good one!

let's have a little Nina
.

and some more
of the good feelings
from MUSE

.
(cos we all know, if it's good we want more, don't we!)
.

and on that basis
check out the horns in
this. . .
.
dontcha just love the way
they slip in the
James Bond theme tune chords. . .
I do!

minor change of plan

it's a sit down dinner -
we're having pasta!
.
(homemade,
by yours truly)

today I am learning how to make pasta

this is a bit of a departure for me. . .


. . .I'm not a LWL and I'm not a person to go on cookery courses in the morning and then eat what I prepared for lunch either really

I also hope that I don't like it much because if I did I might be tempted to buy some pasta making equipment for the new abode, and to be honest I'd rather spend the money (if I had it) on cushions for my new sofa

yes! I'll have a new sofa instead of the crappy one that XCH left behind (not that I blame him, I wouldn't have taken it by choice) and some new armchairs; there is method in my percuniary madness - the POVS argue about who is going to sit on the sofa and the only solution seems to be me sitting with them, so all four of us end up crammed onto a three-seater sofa and one of them always feels left out as I only have two sides (if you see what I mean)

so, in the new abode there will only be three seats in front of the tv and my sofa will be in front of the fire place; however, I like a hug 'n' cuddle as much as the next person - so one of the seats is a slightly larger size, dubbed a "love seat". . .

thus I will be able to cuddle with one the other two won't have to put up with each other and if the four of us want the good treatment we can all sit in front of the fire and then noone gets to argue about which channel we're going to watch

what that has to do with pasta I have no idea - oh, I know! cushions! I don't think I'll be making raviolli, as that would involve making a filling and I think all I'm learning what to do this morning is make the pasta dough itself (I'm good at pastry, and figured it was probably the same kind of skill)

I'll fill you in later

(that was a joke,
about raviolli. . .)

have a good day until then

.

post script! I'm converted: sod the cushions, I'm going to buy a pasta machine right now!!

Smallest Person and I were singing in the car on the school run this morning - it was a beautiful morning and we had the roof down; I was BVing and she was lead vocals (she then told me my task for the day was to learn the words to the song, so I could sing harmonies with her on the way back this afternoon)

it's odd to think that this (singing in the car on the way to school) will end in July (partly because I'll have no car to drive from then), from September she'll be on the bus on her own but with thousands of other children (if you see what I mean); a very silly mother spoke to me today and suggested that next autumn I drive SP back to the village so that she could travel in with the silly woman's daughter. . . I laughed and pointed out she was my third and I'd do the trip ahead of the school term but from day one she'd be on her own, as the boys had been; the silly mother looked shocked (possibly because I also added that once SP has left her current school the last place I'd want to be driving to first thing in the morning was back to the village)

so I guess I've moved on!

.

(in at least one way)

.
which I think is a good thing, and thus the song that SP and I were singing holds many levels of meaning for me (altho I know I will have a happy okay ending, when I get to the end - after all: if it's not OK, it's not the end - is it?)

.

have a good day y'all

shopping?

when XCH left we split our accumulated possessions

he got the wedding cutlery, I got the wedding dinner service; needless to say, I don't have dinner parties anymore so the posh stuff is still boxed up in the cellar. . .

he got the decent wine glasses, I got the ordinary wine glasses; I don't drink, so the ordinary wine glasses are still boxed up in the cellar. . .

we divided the everyday plates and glasses between us; he bought some new everyday glasses and some new plates, the children and I have been using the plates and glasses I brought here and they are all becoming a little worse for wear. . . (I'm thinking of investing some of his hard earned money in some new everyday plates and glasses)

I got the wedding saucepans (which I'd never liked), he bought some new ones (of which I am very envious). . .

we were given everything on our wedding list when we married, because the list was very minimal and we didn't have many people coming to our wedding: decent dinner service, decent posh cutlery and a set of Le Creuset saucepans (oh, and a fondue pot). . .

so, if I go out and but some new stuff what ought I do with the posh dinner service (barely used, but no longer my choice of dinnerware should I ever have another party again) and the (rather battered after almost sixteen years of heavy use and now going a little rusty, but still perfectly functioning) Le Creuset saucepans?

(and should I bother taking the ordinary wine glasses with me, seeing as how I don't drink?)

playgrounds

the current house backs onto one (hence the "school yard" this morning - not because SP went back, but because the children are once again yelling and screaming all day long a few yards from where I sit and type)

I like that - the noise

.

it makes me feel connected
to a reality other than my own

.
as much as I like the peace and quiet when they're not there, the contrast I suppose; I'll miss it when I move; the new abode has a tiny little courtyard hemmed in on all sides - open to the sky above and I guess soon enough I'll find out how much sun there will be in the courtyard and when

of course, I am fortunate to also have the roof terrace as well - from which I'll be able to see the tube trains trundling past on their tracks which back onto the houses on the other side of the road; The Teen is obsessed with the idea of the roof terrace. . . but more on that another time, back to playgrounds

life's a little like a playground,
isn't it?

.swings . . .

.
roundabouts. . .
.

.

and so on. . .

slides sometimes really really shiney and slippery and you whizz down them so fast that you come off the bottom at speed and bump your backside on the ground, sometimes huge ones which you climb to the top of and then carefully go all the way back down the stairs because it looked a little too scary and then you watch other people do it and they whoop and holler as if it's really really good fun and you wonder why you're such a scaredy cat. . .

those precarious timber stumps which you step across one by one and if you're not careful and loose your footing you carve huge out chunks of your thigh. . .

five- or six-seater metal rocking horses that are okay to ride on your own, but more fun with others (I never liked being on the front of those - always thought if someone at the back rocked too hard I'd go flying over the top and land on my face)(might have been an improvement tho). . .

maybe a water fountain if you're thirsty

and if you are tired there's always a bench to sit on from which to watch everyone else having fun whilst you gather your energies again

I've been doing a little too much sitting about in the last nine months. . . and I am far removed now from my previous playground
.

I was thinking about band yesterday. . .

.

I don't really miss it, which I found odd,
perhaps because it was part of my "old life"

..

. . .I have a new one now

.
and today I was thinking about a song which we rehearsed but never put into the set list of a gig; it was a strange mix of A Town Called Malice by The Jam and You Can't Hurry Love - the first segued into the second and then it segued back again, and the most difficult thing was keeing the rhythm between the two; life is like that too - segueing from one thing to another and sometimes back again, keeping the rhythm, altho now I have no "back" to go to now - only forwards. . .

.
and as for bookbinding
.

well, the new abode is just around the corner from the local Art and Design school and I've looked at their courses and some do really really appeal - the individual aspects of some of the skills I was acquiring during my fledgling bookbinding/design/printing tuition, only not with regards to a making a book
.
some of the courses are on a Saturday which is good because I hate Saturdays; some are on weekday evenings - which might be okay, altho it means leaving the People of Varying Sizes on their own. . . which I have not been keen to do, seeing as I don't have them about all the time, but often means I am so bored of the fights and arguments that by nine o'clock I just leave them to it and "escape" to bed
.
(which is odd, eh? because I want to be with them, but they drive me nuts, and then when they are not with me I miss them terribly and wish I were with them)
.
so, new playgrounds for me, I think, is the order of the day and the courage to climb to the top of the highest slide and go down it, sit on a horse at the front, and step really really carefully over those thigh skinning timber stumps. . .
.

"a change is as good as a rest",
as my mother used to say
.
(which totally contradicted her saying:
"better the devil you know, than the devil you don't")
.
that woman has a lot to answer for
.

(won't give this up, mind. . .)(!)

doesn't time fly

(especially if your magic carpet is in tip-top condition)

remember a short while ago I was telling you about Keith. . . (no? it was half five in the morning on the 18th March - not that long ago really)

anyway, strangely, Smallest Person the other evening asked me who my first boyfriend was - so I ended up telling her all about Keith . . .

. . .she got him mixed up with one of my mother's boyfriends, Colin, who had painted in huge letters on the fence opposite the police flats in Greenwich, where my mother grew up:

"COLIN LOVES GLENDA"

(SP thought that "KEITH LOVES ILTV" had been painted on a fence opposite my parents' house) (noone ever loved me that much!) (or expressed it in that way, perhaps is a more reasonable thing to say) (and just as well, my mother's father was amused by the incident but my father would have been furious and I'd have gotten into the most dreadful trouble)

(how do you express the way you love someone? or do you keep it to yourself) (anyhow, I digress)

so "there I was", to coin a phrase, telling SP about Keith - and lo and behold, blow me down with a feather, if Keith isn't still about in the 21st century and working in the same organisation as Blind Date (we'll call him BD, shall we?)

isn't it a small world!

that's a little scary actually: but I have nothing to hide - and I was only 13 when I knew Keith and if the two of them have nothing more constructive to talk about than my good self, what would that say about either of them

BD and I, seeing as we didn't know each other, actually didn't have anything particuarly constructive to talk about, in the sense that we were just checking each other out - as you might do in that situation - so Keith was a hot topic

of course, I have many small world hot topics, but I didn't bore him with all of them (well, who knows if I bored him or not, but I didn't share everything)

it's really weird meeting someone new - a little like when I met the Head Doctor (woah - that's going way back now, isn't it) - you see snapshot of someone, akin to viewing a house for the first time: it's quite superficial, one might overlook important details and one can easily get the wrong impression or make the wrong impression, like the first time you read someone's blog and perhaps leave a comment which you may then later wonder if they will misconstrue because they don't know you or get you or you haven't clicked yet

there is a safety in the familiar, isn't there

better the devil you know, than the devil you don't and all that (as my mother would have said) (not hugely adventurous that woman, which accounts for a lot)

and there is a risk in trying something new

offset by the potential of a reward if it works out

at this point I do have to add that the value of your investment can go down as well as up, and I hope you are all aware of that. . .

so, we'll see - did the risk pay off? there is an instrinsic reward (other than my knowing I can still scrub up reasonably well and turn up on time in the right place and not make a complete fool of myself) (the operative word being "complete") in the fact I did something I have never done before and the experience may well give me the confidence to do it again if it turns out I did bore BD (perhaps we should call him BD1?) (!). . .

(at this point, I should add, he wasn't boring - and his answers to the Q20 were very, very funny and I think you guys may have approved) (altho I forgot to ask him who begat Cain or Abel's wife - sorry dave, have already forgotten which one died) (and for whoever it was who wanted to know what I wore, I'll spare you the satorial details, but needless to say I looked as low-key super slick as you'd expect)

so there we have it: it wasn't a disaster, I'd do it again and I met someone interesting

:-)

now - I'm kinda interested in how you express your feelings of love for someone. . .

and as requested by the very talented and

equally fascinating dinahmow here is another one! what links these books:
.

Lolita Vladimir Nabakov

Anna Karenina Leo Tolstoy

So Long, See You Tomorrow William Maxwell

The Human Stain Philip Roth

Miss Lonelyhearts Nathanael West

The Magic Mountain Thomas Mann

One Hundred Years of Solitude Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Autobiography of a Face Lucy Grealy

The Giant's House Elizabeth McCracken

Random Family Adrian Nicole LeBlanc

.
.

?

do you know what links these songs. . .

San Antiono Rose Bob Wills

Louisiana Man Rusty and Doug

Chattanooga Choo Choo Glenn Miller

Can't Take My Eyes Off You Vikki Carr

Wichita Lineman Glen Campbell

The Girl From Ipanema Astrud Gilberto

Sugar, Sugar The Archies

Suspicious Minds Elvis

Little Woman Bobby Sherman

Son of a Preacher Man Dusty

it has nothing to do with me (altho I have listed them)

it has nothing to do with here (altho I have listed them here) (one of them used to be on my favourite LP from the Croydon Public Lending Library, where my life long affair with books and the persuit of genius began)(as you can tell, I didn't get very far with that, probably because I got sidetracked by music, initially Glenn Miller - that man has a lot to answer for) (A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I got a guy. . . sorry, digressing)

it has nothing to do with the old band (even tho I did a Dusty number myself and one of the band members once described me as his Girl From Ipanema) (which, because I had never placed the title and the song together, was meaningless at the time) (altho I took it as a compliment, of sorts, later)

it has nothing to do with what's on the radio. . .

right, that's enough clues

over to you guys!