The Grief Tap. Full On

Wimbledon.
Not the same without my lovely mummy.
I've been looking forward to it too. When I've been up to my eyes in caravanalia and missing husbands I hung onto the prospect of Wimbledon fortnight for dear life.
Dear Life
Dearest Life.
How fragile you are.
One minute you're alive on a hot beach the next your distant family in England cry.

My husband the ever reliable Mr Horsehound has gone. To pastures far away. And I don't and can't blame him. Infact I welcome it. God knows he deserves happiness.
I just wish he'd told me first.
If he'd bought a motorbike or grown a beard or even found the Lord I'd have kept him in my bed and heart but he fell into that old hole called love and vanished. 
I see him occasionally. I worry all the time. But it is his choice and I must respect it.

It's nearly a year since mum fell asleep forever and that awful bullish undertaker took her away leaving me behind. My God I've lost count of the times I've wished I could see her sultry blue eyes and hear her caustic observations on life. Laugh? I nearly died. Nearly? On reflection maybe I did. The afternoon she ceased to be a sentient being I kind of stopped being a being too.
The being I was, the one that kept the bungalow afloat and made love and cakes accompanied her on that sad little day to her final residence. 
My body still exhausts itself likewise my mind but I have a heaviness about me, one that wasn't there before.
'Oh bugger' I sometimes say.

I keep crying.
Last week in Morrisons I crumbled by the pet food, Mr Hairy Suit held me up.
Then in a charity shop when I had to get out and get in the car before I scratched someones eyes out. I didn't feel very Christian in the Church Shop.
Hairy Suit again steering me home.

I've been spending a lot of time with Hairy Suit's family. Mum, Dad and young Mark. And Mrs Hairy Suit too. We get on very well.
And they are fine.
Good people doing crafts and loving each other.
I like them.

But if a dream had foretold that my parents would die and my husband leave me without a word or a penny to bless myself with I'd have dashed out of bed, had a strong cup of tea and thanked God it was only a dream.


I didn't get the job I applied for.
My back hurts.
I ache for mum and dad
but
I'm loved
A family of swans hang out at our caravan
I've started writing again
and Andy Murray plays tomorrow...

What a lovely day.
The sunshine has lifted my drooping sprits.
Out in the garden tidying and creating has been the tonic to beat all tonics. Thank you Lord.
On the inside I made some curtains for the conservatory and completed the look with the addition of wicker baskets and retro wireless. I think I'll do my sewing out there seeing as Spring is making a welcomereturn.
And as Mr Horsehound is away for a day or two (friends barbeque etc etc) I'll have time to read, sew and generally let my hair down. Hey anyone want to join me?

All this hoo hah over debates and whether or not Cameron will do a head-to-head with Mr Miliband has whetted my already big appetite for the circus of the soon to be held General Election. What a debacle.
I know very little about what goes on in the corridors of power or inside the head of politicians but even my small brain has figured  that a Cameron non-show with Miliband will do the leader a great deal of harm indeed.
A seven person event is going ahead featuring the main party leaders and non-entities like the Greens ( apologies to Green supporters) will be abysmal. There they'll be...The Welsh, The Scots, UKIP and others answering quick fire questions quickly in order to get on to the next quick fire question.

Cameron should be ashamed of himself.
Instead of standing erect as leader of the Conservatives and Prime Minster he'll be no more than one of the group, one of the others..
Imagine Mrs Thatcher agreeing to that? She would want top billing and centre stage. It'll be interesting to see where Dave stands.
I see a picture in my mind....
Dave in the middle and fanning out around him like small tattered inconsequential wings the leaders of several other parties. Who, I wonder, will make up the appendages... UKIP I'm sure. Probably a little party like Plaid Cymru, Respect Party, Ulster Unionists, Labour Party, Cleggs Lot and just to add to the fun of it ...The right wingish Britanicca Party, The Communist Party of Great Britain (Marxist-Leninist) and for good measure the No Candidate Deserves My Vote party.
I can't wait....

Turkey Balls

Um....
Now you all know I'm old. And seen and done a lot of things. A few even legal. And I came to the conclusion that not a lot freaks me out. But when I heard that the World Cup finals would be held very near to Christmas Day I got choked up.
Never in the history of Ridiculous Stuff Happening At Ridiculous Times has a stupid decision like this been made.

Christmas is frantic enough as it is but to have Supreme Footie shot at us while we're thinking of stuffing Turkeys is too much for my plate. Mate.

Having said that I CAN'T WAIT!

My New Bathroom

Work in progress but chuffed with it so far...

Right Said Fred Gotta Do The Ceiling

Apart from doing the ceiling, the bathroom is almost complete.
Plumber man was a dream. No fuss. No rush. Entire life history expelled over tea and ham rolls. Nice chap. reminded me of Hugh Laurie. Only Laurie is posher.
He and Mr Hairy Suit did a fine job of converting my rust bucket hell hole of a bathroom into a white Victorian STYLE bathroom complete with mouldings and flowers and little taps.
I spent yesterday just looking at it.
Today, however I went in and Gloriafied it. Flowers in fine jugs, white and brown wicker baskets, lace doileys, a yellow metal kitty, mirrors that shine brilliantly and all signs of John's dandruff shampoo locked away in the white cupboard I rescued from a charity shop for £2.
It's beautiful.
Pictures to come......

Bit Early

The plumber arrived a tad early but I was overjoyed to see him. Mr Hairy Suit likewise.
They are still at it.
Maybe if they didn't chatter over tea so much it might get done sooner. But I'm not complaining, no not at all, I love my plumber. He's short in stature but big in cleverness and ideas. He and Hairy Suit are getting on very well. Two know alls!

Apart from being tea lady I've kept myself out of the way by making bread and vegetable dishes and puddings (info on My Table).

I peeped in while the lads supped tea and it's looking awful/wonderful. Tiles missing/water damage from years of drips/cupboard yanked from wall/sparkly lavatory.

As the bread rises I'm planning the decor. A couple of artificial ferns and a gaily coloured blind for starters...

Saturday Disco At Rayleigh Conservative Club

Mark and I waiting for our fish and chips before going to the disco

Mark with one of his lady friends dancing in front of a group of his peers from the Mushroom Theatre Company

Two Marks. Rt Honourable Mark Francois MP and Gorgeous Mark receiving a cheque for the group.

Yes Sir, we can boogie

Spot the wacko

One cider