Goodbye, Lucewoman

Not going to apologise for, or excuse my absence. Apologising would be like saying; "sorry fans! I've been busy working on new material (just like all those has-beens on Nevermind the Buzzcocks). I know you've all been on the edge of your seat waiting for the next installment of uncouth nonsense  from your  smalltown under-stimulated narsisisstic blogger".
I need a laptop, having a computer must be an enormous boon to aid blogging?

I met some extraordinarily beautiful ladies recently. Really, no exaggeration. The proof exists here here here and here.
I met Curtise and Clare first and was struck by their clear-skinned radiance and style.There was no awkwardness or bullshit. Clare speaks exactly how people who read stories should speak - softly but concisely and with the right level of animation. Curtise is as wry, funny  and engaging in person as she is on her blog.
Krista and Vix were waiting at the station and looked like a pair of ornate pained dolls; so petite, colourful, and pretty with the widest smiles possible. Positivity, fun and a zest for life oozes from their pores and I am so glad Krista was able to come to the UK to meet her soul sister.
Louise and her lovely mum had the most sparkly blue eyes, were so friendly and warm.I want to do it all again, but with ten hours in Second to None (the best second-hand shop I've ever been to) and a whole night of eating, drinking and laughing.

It's time to delete this blog. It will not be easy, it changed my life and catalogued a range of emotions which will be unique to the time.
 I will start a new one, I will keep up with all my favourites, as I have been throughout despite not commenting much.

I thank everyone who has taken the time to read and comment, everyone who has supported this 'diary'.

I will see you on my new blog, hopefully.

Thanks again for reading,

I'm of for a beautiful tomato Ainsley Harriet Cup a Soup with soya and linseed bread. Jealous?



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The Itchy and Scratchy Show

I write my blog posts on the smallest, crappest piece of equipment. It doesn't even belong to me; it's Liam's.

Liam reclaimed the Netbook recently, mainly to watch videos on YouTube showing how to teach your Gerbil tricks.

Liam saved his pocket money (heavily subsidised by his paternal grandfather, who 'slips' him £20 notes  regularly) to buy a a cage and two Gerbils. 

I agreed to let him have them with the age old warning "you'll have to clean the cage and look after them".

Itchy and Scratchy are vile creatures. They smell like charity shops used to; of dried wee, greasy hair and dirty bottoms. One Gerbil spends the day trying to scratch a tunnel through the cage, the other hides, like some kind of neurotic, agoraphobic old lady who only eats Nairn's oatcakes, apples and runny yoghurt.

I watch the desert creatures and feel pity for them, despite all their needs being met, it just doesn't seem right that they live under a fine mist of Lynx in a metal and plastic enclosure. Pink eyes seem to focus on mine every now and then. I melt. What is is about us humans, we HAVE to humanise animals. "Aw, the little one is so clever, the big one is wild, he loves to play". 

What do I find myself doing at 11pm the other night? Why, fashioning an ad-hoc activity centre for the Gerbils from items in the recycling bag (toilet roll tubes and small boxes). "Look Liam, they LOVE it!". All I need to do now is create a little coffee shop for them, and make some bow ties and...a sports car, all pets need a sports car. If only I'd kept my Barbie's Ferrari, they'd look great in that sporting mirrored shades and maybe a sun visor. 

The 'summer' holidays feel strange owing to the absence of summer. I baked bread and cakes with the boys today. It poured with rain solidly and the curtains were drawn early.

Trips into town are 'in and out' events. I did hear a good line last week though, I'm never switched off;

"I'm not being funny love, but why order a full English if you don't fucking like pork?"

Quite.

Maybe September will be warm, I'll be blogging regularly and commenting regularly. Stranger things have happened..

Bye for now...

This Summer

Hooray! Some sunshine; cloudless skies and fully dressed washing lines. Small pleasures.

I have missed writing nonsense on here. There have been thoughts, tales and so many unanswered questions but also, a sense that I  need to make a few changes. Not sure what I want to write about any more. I just want to write.

I have missed commenting regularly too, I will resume as soon as possible.

There have been numerous encounters with interesting people, especially since I've been using public transport more often.
Charity shopping has been avoided in favour of de-cluttering.
I did buy some curtains from a charity shop last week, though. The shop manageress was measuring the curtains (which had just arrived) when I walked into the shop. "These will sell as soon as we put them out" she said.


 Quite right, I bought them there and then.

Unfortunately, I ended up being party to a conversation which is one of my least favourite topics - home décor.

Gesturing, as if to give an accurate representation of dimensions, she offered a detailed description of  he living-room furnishings

 ('yuh' = 'here').

"I got my wall art yuh" 
"then I got my silver buddha 'ead yuh"
"I got my coffee table yuh, and I got my plasma on tha' wall, then my 'uge mirror on tha' wall. I got teal and terracotta theme I have, and I got all cushions what match, but don't match like, if you know what I mean?"

They coordinate? I said.

"yeah! That's the word. I like stuff to match, but I don't like identical stuff. I love my living room, I even keep the table all laid tidy, like they do on TV when they do a makeover. We eat our food on our lap though, nuts, we are!"

Picnics, parks, streams, scooters, bikes, half-eaten ice-lollies, sunscreen peppered with grit, water pistols, hard skin on my feet, deodorant twice daily, gawping at creosote tans, a red and freckled nose, sweaty grizzly babies, the echoing noises unique to warm open-windowed evenings...all say it's PROPER summertime. Albeit for one week only.

I'll catch up with you all soon - I've missed you (really!)

Reflection

Life-changing events are often punctuated with bizarre, moving and downright banal encounters and observations.

There was the accidental discovery of this video (an attempt to distract the boys) during an emotionally charged exchange with Rob.

A guy with a personality disorder latched on to me, I was already late for the school run. He'd emptied a large bag of peanuts for some crazed pigeons to feast on, and my niece, captivated, approved. I was loathe to deny her the chance to witness such an entertaining spectacle (she's only 1) and also loathe to engage with the chap (but he had other ideas). 

A mother at the school telling me she'd had a "horrendous day" because she had passed loose stools. I listened and made all the right sympathetic noises, while all the time thinking that my day had been possibly more challenging than hers, for reasons I won't go into.

Watching the boys eat Fairtrade bananas (the headmaster is obsessed with the Eco-Schools concept) smothered in chocolate sauce, with obvious enthusiasm and delight, while swallowing the tears of sadness and pangs of guilt. Such innocence.

My birthday (Wednesday) was celebrated in two parts. Drinks at The Merlin; a pub around the corner. Mid-nineties decor; terracotta and Fluer de Lys; too many televisions; a man who should have gone home at lunchtime. I just wanted a quiet chat. Firmly but politely, I told the animated gent that although I found his anecdotes very entertaining, I'd appreciate some time to talk to my friends without distraction. "Some people got no fuckin' sense of humour" was his sharply observed reply.

Later on, at home, I enjoyed coffee and cake with a friend from childhood. We chatted to the very open, honest, warm, beautiful and funny Krista at midnight via Skype. Krista sent me a parcel full of delightful treats, handmade gifts and wonderful garments for my birthday. I cannot thank her enough.

I cannot thank my readers enough for their support. 

Thanks to Lakota for the beautiful Origami card and hand made earrings.

Thanks to Rob for being being such a loving father to our wonderful boys. 

Interlude

Hello.

A quick update:

Rob and I split up on Tuesday.

I am fine,the boys are fine, so is Rob. I am going to keep the blog going, but an obvious recovery period will be needed.

Hope to catch up with your posts soon.

Lucy 

Celebrating mediocrity

I see so many inspiring photographs on blogs. Beautifully captured moments which tell a story. Artistic skill and attention to detail, sound knowledge of software, photography techniques and creative display methods.

You can tell a lot about someone's life by the photographs they share.

The boys were home from school on Friday. They watched The Incredibles.

Something Mr Incredible said caught my attention:

"They keep finding new ways to celebrate mediocrity"

I think that's my life summed up!

Here's the photographic evidence...

Iron bridge (no sore lips for me)

Being of Sound Mind

Spilt dog biscuits looked like camouflage once wet

At my friend's flat, she looks nonplussed 

Love the font

Once is unfortunate, twice...

I'd love to know what they overhear

Hope to share something more interesting next time.

What does your photography say about you?

The Human Chrysalis

The novelty of being able to traipse the charity shops alone is starting to wear off. Weekday meanders through Pontypridd are rarely uplifting experiences.
Today, I felt out of place owing to  the absence of a walking stick, buggy, carer or bag of cans.

I entered Barnrdo's charity shop.  Upon noticing the volunteer on duty, I steeled myself. 
In her early seventies; tall, slender and immaculately groomed, Barbara cuts a rather elegant figure. Long fingernails coated in thick pearlised pink polish set off her heavily accessorised fingers. Beige hair and custard-cream toned clothing lead you down to three-tone metallic leather shoes.
Barbara loves to chat,  I have lost count of the number of times she's told me about her successful. childless daughters. "I wish one of them was simple, I'd have had grandchildren then!"


The conversation starts,


"Hiya love, how's the boy doing?"


"Sonny loves school Barbara, how are you?"


Why do I ask? Why?


"Well, I'm still alive love!!"


A young man enters the shop with an unlit rolled-up cigarette perched between his dry lips. His demeanour is       
nervous, impatient, like a criminal waiting for an accomplice to finish the 'job'.


Barbara often attempts to engage the whole shop in a conversation, even on very busy days, gesturing at his roll-up, she says:


"Never smoked, me. Never tried it. Don't know what it tastes like"


Still rifling through a rail of faded mid-nineties t-shirts, the nervy smoker pipes up:


"Wish I'd never bloody tried it" 


Barbara then treated us to a rather fantastical story (though who I am to doubt the truth in it?)

My mother smoked all her life, loved her fags, she did.  I had to take my burgundy velvet curtains to the dry cleaners after her visits.
When she was dying, I had her living with me, I kept her alive for a year, I did, the doctor told me that. Anyway, she gave up smoking. 
One day, she was in the bathroom [I've got TWO bathrooms in my detached bungalow] and she called me, screaming, she was.
I walked in, and had the shock of my life! All of her skin had shed, in one layer. Like a sheet, it was.
The doctor said it's from giving up smoking. She looked like a young girl.


Bemused, I left the shop and headed home.

Why the detail about two bathrooms?

At home, I thought about looking for a job.