Surprise

When I went to bed last night I had no idea.

This morning we had visitors. My eldest brought his little girl to visit. He had been planning to visit in the next week or two but because I have to isolate next week prior to my hospital treatment, decided to come today.

It was a shame it was just the two of them. Mummy had to work. Our little lady is almost 20 months. She chatters non stop, not that we know what she’s saying most of the time. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have any words yet. She most certainly does and can be very clear when she wants to be.

There is a large framed picture on the wall showing a group of ducks. She was very certain that they are ducks (my grandson thinks they are geese). Ducks say quack she tells us. Drawing was the main activity of the visit. Both with my coloured pencils and the crayons that daddy brought with them.

Before they left (before the rain) we had a spell in the garden. Looking at the plants and the ceramic duck. We found a ball that belongs to the dog that visits. So we had “kick” the ball which also involved throwing it “goal kick”.

I was a bit surprised when she took my hand and started running down the garden, with daddy saying” not too fast Granny can’t run”. He is sort of right but I could keep up with her thank you very much.

It was so lovely to see them both. I think my highlight was when she kept coming to stand next to me and resting her head against me.

When it was time for them to go she clearly said “stay”. I’m happy that she enjoyed her visit as much as we did.

Oh and I got a big hug from my son. I am so glad that we are allowed now. (He did get a test before he came, which I thought was very good of him.)

That’s how you say cheese

Rainy Sunday

I’m afraid to say that I’m in danger. Only a teensy bit of danger but it’s there. I have never been a particularly domestic woman. I do what I need to. I don’t enjoy cooking or cleaning.

Today I dodged the showers to pot up some of my plants. I managed to get 3 pots done before the heavy rain started again.

When i went into the kitchen to get myself some lunch I did something that is very rare for me. I made a Victoria sponge cake. Which we both had a slice of with our late afternoon cup of tea. It must be over a year since I last made a cake. Certainly not since my hospital stay last August, or even the weeks leading up to that as I was too poorly.

I have also occupied my time today reading and knitting. I’m making the sleeves for a cat face jumper. This will be my third one. I have made two for my granddaughter. One with a cream background and one grey. This one is white and has been commissioned by my daughter in law for her niece.

During the afternoon while I was knitting we watched two episodes of a Danish crime serial. I generally listen to the TV more than watch but with the foreign programs that mother likes I really have to keep up with the sub titles if I want to follow the plot.

This afternoon seems to have flown by but then I realised that I fell asleep for about half an hour.

The table

I thought I would post something a little more light hearted

lady in red again

I am spending  my sunny Saturday morning cleaning and writing.

Among the things I want to clean is the glass coffee table.

I have cleared everything from it, dusted it.

The furniture polish is upstairs, on my way upstairs I spot the dead flowers in a vase on the dining table.

Take vase to kitchen. Take dead flowers out to refuse bin in front garden by the hedge.

Pass hanging baskets looking a bit dreary.

Fill watering can from water butt hiding behind now wildly growing clematis.

Water 4 baskets, 2 of which contain nasturtians, these have become infested with black fly. Its a pity ladybugs are in short supply this year.

Pour remaining water into bird bath.

Go through to back garden to find appropriate fly spray in shed.

It isn’t there but whilst I’m in the back garden I will set up the garden chairs for later.

Check…

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Waiting

Last week I wrote about Abbie Greaves book The Silent Treatment and I was looking forward to reading her second book The Ends of The Earth. I finished reading it a couple of days ago. I would recommend it however it is a heart felt tale of love and pain.

Reading this book was bitter sweet for me. I enjoy Abbie’s writing but some of the characters took me back to my past. I’m not saying that these characters in anyway resemble me or my past. There are aspects of this sad tale which remind me of one of the bad times in my life.

Some people in my real life know bits of my story but I guess my mother is the only one who knows most of it and even so I didn’t divulge some of my truth until many years later.

When i was 20 I had been engaged for 2 years to M. After a falling out with his mother I was treated more like his mistress/dirty secret than his fiancé. Eventually I had had enough and broke it off. Some months later I began seeing A. He was an older man but we got on really well and he treated me so much better. He was serving in the army but we spent as much time as we could together. We had mutual friend that he stayed with at weekends.

At the time I had joined the Territorial Army in my spare time. I remember once being embarrassed when A had dropped me off for my weekly training. Someone commented about my dad dropping me off. Anyway it was t few days after my 21st birthday that I had been away on a weekend training exercise on Salisbury Plain. When I got back on Sunday night A met me at the barracks to take me home. He took me to our friend’s flat.

He wanted sex. I was tired, battered and bruised. I wanted nothing more than to sleep. He forced himself on me. I made it clear I wasn’t in the right frame of mind or body for sex. That didn’t stop him. I don’t remember how I got home, I guess A drove me. The following Saturday he came to see me. I told him we were finished. He was not happy. He raped me in my parents living room. I never saw him again for which I was glad. I never told anyone what had happened.

At that time police were not sympathetic and I knew that I wouldn’t be taken seriously, after all he was my boyfriend and this was years before domestic rape was recognised. Later I. The year I got back together with M. It didn’t work out, I had changed. Not only that but I found being alone with him difficult. I couldn’t cope with intimacy, I would always see the face of A looming over me. After several months I broke off my relationship again.

I found an ad in the local paper for a week in Austria traveling by coach. By this time I was 22 and in need of a break. I was travelling alone. Being one of the last passengers to catch the coach I had a seat behind the driver. During the long drive I got chatting to both drivers. Once in Austria we were split up around the village. If memory serves me right there were three of us staying in the house where I was staying.

Through out our stay there were events and trips each day. Most of the group were couples or groups. I was just me and often found myself with the drivers and our tour rep. Looking back I know that was a mistake. I was beginning to feel an attachment to the taller of the drivers C. We were spending more and more of our spare time together. Until I ended up spending the night with him. C was an older man (apparently I prefer older men), but younger than A. Amazingly when I was with C I didn’t see A’s face.

By the time I returned home we had swapped phone numbers. He had my home number and my work number. Whenever he was between trips I would catch a train to London where we would stay in cheap hotels. He told me he wouldn’t marry me but he wanted us to live together. I spent a few days with him staying with a friend of his. I applied for a job at his local airport.

Then the unthinkable happened. I hit a call from an older woman claiming to be his wife. S was 14 years older than him and he was 14 years older than me. I guess I will never know the real truth. C told me that he had married S to help her and her two daughters (my age). Every time he tried to leave her she cut her wrists or some other cry for attention.

For months I had to have my calls screened both at home and at work. S or her daughter would call me saying nasty things. I stopped seeing C. Then one night he arrived at my home saying he had left her. He couldn’t take it anymore. The next day we found a bedsit near to my work. That first week it was great coming back every evening to my meal cooked for me. The two of us together making plans. It wasn’t so great for C, he wasn’t used to being in a strange town alone all day with no work. It was his off season.

He told me that he had a friend in Norfolk who could give him work as a taxi driver Monday to Friday. He would be back at the weekends. He never came back. I refused to get upset. I couldn’t phone him, we didn’t have mobile phones in those days. After a few weeks I had a phone call from the Samaritans supposedly searching for C on S’s behalf.

I stayed at the bedsit until the end of our 3 month contract then moved back to my parents. While I was at the bedsit I didn’t see anyone outside of work and a few visits to my parents in the next town. I couldn’t give up on C, I couldn’t forget about him and move on. I needed to know where he was and what had happened. I kept my grief tucked inside me. I never cried, my health began to suffer.

I remember one day phoning my mother at work in a panic. I felt as though my life had collapsed, I didn’t know how I would get through the next minute let alone the next hour. I don’t remember what happened next but I got through the day. My work was suffering, eventually I handed in my notice. I knew I couldn’t carry on with my job in the state I was in.

I managed to persuade my Dr that I needed help but I didn’t want pills. He arranged for a councillor to visit me at home. Unfortunately he was about to change jobs so I only saw him the once. He told me that I was clinically depressed. We went through everything in my life that was making me feel so bad. That helped, just breaking it all down into different problems.

About a month later I got a job working in a bar then a job as an hotel receptionist. One afternoon on my way home I stopped at our local supermarket. On the way out I saw a face I never expected to see again. It was C. He waited for me to walk me home. As soon as I was home I ran to the bathroom to be sick.

It was 11 months since he had left me. He thought he could pick up where he left me. He explained that he had gone to Norfolk as planned but he had phoned home to check how S was. She was in hospital after another suicide attempt. So he went back to look after her. Now she was well and he was able to leave. I saw him a few times over the next couple of months.

I became pregnant, he said he was decorating the flat for S then we would be together. I lost the baby. Suddenly he was unavailable again. He did arrange to see me over the August bank holiday. Bizarrely I stayed with his younger step daughter and partner. We had become friends over the phone. She didn’t agree with how her mother and sister had been towards me. Anyway when I was supposed to see C it was S who turned up. I was suddenly very ill in the bathroom. Later we spoke and found that neither if us were the bitch we had thought.

Over the years I have wondered what happened to C and S. I moved on with my life. I met the man who gave me my four sons.

Abbie’s book was nothing like my story but it did get me thinking about it. I just remembered that one of my colleagues way back then once said to me. ” Your live life might not be happy but it’s interesting” . Thinking back on that comment I don’t know why she thought it was interesting.

Was my body ever a temple?

I’m thinking obviously about the saying that your body is a temple.

This is how I thought of my body three years ago https://ladyinredagain.com/2018/01/10/my-body-is-a-temple/

Now I think my body is more like a colander. Until you plug the holes the water or in my case iron will just keep running out.

Happy Easter

It’s Easter Sunday. There is a small amount of chocolate in the house. Mother got me a pouch of maltesers and I got her a chocolate rabbit.

This morning I had a video call with my grandson who actually managed to talk to me. Usually I talk to his daddy whilst he plays with his toys or watches his cartoons. Hopefully if nothing changes we should get a chance to see them in person next week. I have his birthday present here ready to be wrapped. He will be three in a few weeks time.

I also tried to video call my granddaughter. Hopefully later I shall get through. I think her daddy must have been driving when I was calling. I have seen a photo of her and her cousin at the beach with their parents.

I have done more gardening. Planting seeds in pots. They are the sun at the moment in the hope of giving them some warmth. I shall bring them inside later as temperatures are due to plummet.

Yesterday I went to the car sales where my potential new car is. Due to covid restrictions I wasn’t able to examine it but I could look through the windows. We have arranged to talk to the sales man on Wednesday to go ahead with the deal.

Today I am grateful

I feel as though I have been moaning about my lot in life quite a lot lately. So I have decided to think about the things I am grateful for.

  1. My family
  2. I will soon be able to spend time with my family again.
  3. Sunshine
  4. Having a garden
  5. The ability to bring life into our garden
  6. The wildlife that I get to see from my armchair
  7. Living near to various beaches
  8. Avon – my sanity
  9. Knitting
  10. Reading
  11. Technology – video calls
  12. Technology – research and talk to others with my health issues
  13. A roof over my head
  14. Enough food to eat (even with an unconventional diet).
  15. Being single
  16. Friends
  17. Independence
  18. Sense of humour
  19. Love of colour
  20. BEING ALIVE

Peach and orange tea with macarons

Today I am feeling blessed. Not only did I finally receive my flowers from #1 son I also received a package from #2 son. A box of seasonal flavoured macarons. These were from the company who had provided their unusual wedding cake. (Pyramid of macarons). Last night the gift from #4 son arrived. A set of marble plant pots.

This morning I had a video call as my grandson played in a play area on his way to nursery. Then this afternoon I had a video call with my granddaughter who now associates talking to granny with time to draw.

I finished my afternoon (prior to having a much needed nap) with a cup of peach and orange tea together with a jasmine earl grey macaron. Mother chose rose petal rhubarb. Other flavours to try are lavender petal lemon curd, chocolate caramel sea salt and gin cucumber.

Not on my neck!

I missed the start of the item on the news so I only caught the end of it. A lady was speaking about not wearing polo neck jumpers. It was something about her neck. At first I thought she had had her thyroid removed. As the news item continued I became confused. The journalist was talking about domestic violence.

I have never claimed to be a victim of domestic violence. I was a victim of emotional abuse/coercive control. However during our divorce, (a time when we still lived in the same house for 7 excruciating months). He thought it was funny to put his hands around my neck on an almost daily occurrence. He didn’t use pressure, he never left any marks.

He was aware that I didn’t like anything around my neck so he used it as a form of mental torture.

I hadn’t given it much thought in the last 15 years but having said that it does limit my choice in clothing. I can’t wear anything with a high neckline. Anything that is anywhere near my neck and I start to panic.

15 years later we are friends now. It helps having two grandchildren in common. He was here (as our support bubble) for coffee and a chat this morning. We don’t talk about the bad times. However I don’t think I will ever wear a high necked top/jumper again. Just thinking about it gives me the shivers.

FEAR

I have recently been following The Hot Goddess. In truth she started following me first. The last post I read was about fear. It got me thinking about fear too. She talked about her fear of heights and her drive along a road in Montana that scared the life out of her, it reminded me of the trip I made on my honeymoon with second husband. Here

I personally don’t have a fear of heights but that doesn’t mean I am not fearless in certain situations. I really don’t think I would be able to go on any of those glass walkways at various landmarks. I don’t take risks, I will look over the side of a cliff but from a safe distance. I do have a fear of rodents of any kind, yet I am fine with spiders.

Are you aware that there are two very different definitions of FEAR.

Forget Everything And Run which I guess is the more common reaction to fear.

Then there is

Face Everything And Rise

I do try to go with the second definition but that doesn’t always work. For many years I would do anything to avoid rollercoasters. After I recovered from my /cancer treatment I decided that I needed to learn to live life not just let life pass me by. On a trip to Belgium with my #2 son’s football team I went on my first rollercoaster at a water park we visited. I actually enjoyed that.

Being an introvert it is not easy for me to approach strangers. Joining Avon has helped me with that. I can’t always do it but I am getting better at talking to people I don’t know. Either to ask if they would be interested in becoming a customer or a Rep or just for a chat about anything.

In 2019 my #2 son was getting married and asked me to do a reading at the wedding. I’m ok talking to 2 or 3 people but a gathering of 6 or more leaves me feeling extremely red in the face with my eyes watering. It really isn’t something I enjoy. So imagine how I felt being asked to read to 100+ people mostly strangers to me. I did it though and I am very proud of myself.

More recently I had to face my fears on medical grounds. I was facing major surgery which terrified me. It wasn’t the operation that scared me but the waking up and recovery together with the change in my life that was that I feared. Each time I was given a date for surgery I bravely psyched myself up it was cancelled. Third time lucky. I tried not to think about it until I had no choice. I just had to get on with it. Last week I had to face my fear of needles. I kept myself busy until half an hour before my appointment. What made it worse for me was that on arrival I had to join a long queue. If I could have just gone straight in and got it over with that would have helped. However I held on to my courage and gradually moved ever nearer to the dreaded needle.

What has you trembling with fear? Do you face it or do you run?