Chinese Curses

I am living in Interesting Times. The cats in their infinite wisdom deemed our freeview digibox as a target for their insurrection against kittens. One of them kindly scented it and in so doing it died. Non plussed I took off for Argos to buy one that they advertised. I diligently wrote the number down and checked with their machine that it was correct and in stock. Sorry said the machine we are out of that product. I was not perturbed. I selected a similar machine and that too was out of stock as were three and four. At this point the prices had risen considerably and I could have been better off purchasing something that gave me other channels. I though this through and decided that the new cat flap (Pukwadji who is very large has broken out existing one) and a new toilet seat were more pressing and that I could probably get a digibox from Tesco the following day. I therefore took down the numbers of the cat flap and tested the machine which indicated I was in luck. I then took down the numbers of the toilet seat and this too looked good. I advanced on their self service machines and again inserted the numbers. Wrong said the machine we do not recognise these codes. Back I went to the catalogue section. By this time the store was beginning to overflow with people. I rechecked the numbers and as this was in a different catalogue position yes they were not the same as I had originally written. I returned to self service. Wrong numbers said the machine. I returned to the catalogue section. This time that machine declared everything to be out of stock. I left.

Arriving back in Greenford I noted the bus for our giant Tesco was approaching and decided to go there rather than waste two days on this quest. I came out with lots of interesting cooking spices and no digibox. They had decided to discontinue their cheaper ones. Our Tesco is interesting in that someone steals the panties from the underwear section one at a time. Obviously this is so that they cannot set of any alarms but it is very frustrating if you wanted to buy a pack of the items.

I crossed the giant car park. It had once again started to rain. I crossed the road and before me I saw the countrywide stores of the washing machine people or rather our one of the same. I admitted defeat and continued through their giant car park to the front doors. The wonderful sales staff sold me a slightly more expensive than I had wanted to pay digibox but at least it was cheaper than Argos or Tesco. It was raining again when I left. The next day I was suffering from a chill and too wobbly to connect anything but such is life.

It Will Not All Come Out In The Wash

There are days when you ask yourself why? I guess this has become one of those days. It started pleasantly enough with much kitten entertaining. There were some off colour clouds on the horizon but not enough to take my spirits totally over. I was considering some work on the forest but first I needed to start the washing machine, which I did. I noticed that it was behaving strangely and then that the drum was not turning. I stopped the machine. I pumped the water out. I checked the pump trap and found the curtain clips that had been going missing. I started the machine. I stopped the machine. I tried all the different programmes. I pumped even more water out.

Eureka said a voice in my head it must be that belt thing. I dragged the machine out from its position under the work top. This left me feeling faint. I took up my trusty collection of screwdrivers and discovered that the fiends who construct washing machines do not use normal screws. Stumped for a short while I investigated the cost of washing machines on the Internet and in a catalogue. One of the local super stores seemed to have the best deal, but then I remembered that I had some amazingly odd screw pieces in with my new hammer drill. I unpacked them all and yes I had the perfect bit to open up the machine. I manoeuvred it into a position that was reachable but it did put a lot of pressure on my knees. I was feeling distinctly unhappy crouched under the work top trying to dismantle the beast but eventually I did and I replaced the fan belt. Then I had to get everything back into place and this took what felt like hours. I started the machine. The drum did not function. I drained the machine and resigned myself to a bearing problem. Defeat was inevitable.

I went back to the Internet and with many misgivings ordered a new washing machine from the well known company. Free delivery it said. Well only if I wanted to wait a week. Why was that not up front with the other information? I paid the delivery charge as it was necessary to finish the washing and do some three other loads. It was all in order and I printed out my confirmation. Did I actually say confirmation? Did they call it confirmation? Why yes they did do so. Odd then that I received an automatic email stating that it was not in stock and that one of their amazing customer advisors would contact me within twenty four hours to discuss alternatives. Did they imagine I buy washing machines on a whim? Did they think I might choose them to match my shoes and handbags? Had it not crossed someone in head offices mind that certain people buy machines because they need them and they need them as soon as possible? I have no alternative but to wait. I have a washing line covered in sodden, dirty, soapy washing. I did have things to do that rated some importance today. It would seem that it is not to be. The one certainty is that I will not be buying anything else from the well known retailer with country wide stores.

It Isn't Easy Being Green

My second son decided to turn forty on Friday. This necessitated his lovely partner organising a party and this they decided to do in the fields belonging to her mother who is also one of my oldest friends. This was entitled the Summer of Love tent festival, 1969 revisited. Originally second daughter was attending for me but as she had just started a new position within the BBC she was exhausted and in the end I agreed to take her place. To those that are not au fait, I have been undergoing a series of tests stretching back some eight months now and the latest is an attempt to resolve a pain in my side, which has unfortunately or perhaps fortunately, not shown up on a gallstone scan. In the absence of any other sacrifices I was therefore despatched to Norfolk pain et al. Number one son and his partner took me. It was a good thing that I was not being put up in a tent as there would have been no room in the car as they had all the creature comforts that they could muster with them.

We arrived after six hours as they wanted to stop and have a proper pub meal and then a trip around Asda to buy supplies. I was desperately in need of a gin and tonic by this time as they had started the bickering common to people travelling and not map reading properly. Several G & Ts later I inspected my sleeping arrangements (the old camper van next to the new hay barn) The original barn is still there but the new one is almost three times the size and they have permission to convert it into a house. The main field leading up to the home wood was the camping area and on the level section they had laid out bales for a quad bike circuit. A badminton net was also set up and various other entertainments were available to tire out children. It did start on to rain around 10pm but at this point we were retiring to the hay barn for a karaoke session. They have lots of electrical points and two televisions were set up in the barn for karaoke and games. My friend dragged me off for a much appreciated coffee, to the main farm house, and I actually went to bed without joining in with the singing. This was probably a good thing as I lost my voice many years back and three blind mice is about the extent of my present repertoire.

I made a trip to the porta loo in the night minus a torch and walked into a giant puddle followed by stinging nettles. I woke twice more and read some of my book and watched the dawn come up which is always better out of town. I saw one of the planets close to the Eastern horizon and also a satellite passing over. (they move slower than aeroplanes, or rather they appear to in relation to their distance from the earth) Then I fell into a deep sleep and everyone else got up. They had a barbequed breakfast back on the hill, which was very good and I greatly enjoyed the forbidden fruits of fried bacon, and when the tents were dry (it poured all night) they started to break up camp. At this point and without provocation, I was stung by a wasp. I took a large dose of piriton and sat very still until I was certain I would not react any further but the area is horribly swollen and I have continued with some more piriton in an attempt to curtail its spread. I have also used marigold leaves as my Krishna friend in New Zealand swears by them. I am now green and swollen but I itch less!

Needless to say coming back also took time as we had to stop for yet another meal. To add to this, Second daughter, in her infinite wisdom had saved me a kebab from Saturday with rice and then cooked me a huge chicken dinner. How I am supposed to reduce cholesterol and lose weight whilst amongst certain sections of my family I dread to think. I may go on a prolonged visit to Youngest daughter as at least she is a student and not inclined to feed me more than beans. (Actually she is a great cook but a vegetarian so there are fewer calories!)

Yesterday I saw the physiotherapist for the first time and what a beautiful young man he was. I have some fun exercises to do ha ha and I am due back in September. The next consultation regarding the pain in my side is on the thirteenth. The odd thing is that it did not affect me in Norfolk. Perhaps the stones have passed, if it was that or maybe I do have pulled muscles of some description in that area.

Whilst I was away, my friend John rang again and invited us to a dinner party later in the month so I will get to visit the garden of wondrous delights yet again. This is fast becoming a summer of strange experiences and too much food. Meanwhile the remaining kits are still marauding and have discovered the delights of knocking plants over whilst ensuring ornaments are destroyed. Two are due off in a week’s time Two are still available. (Note the faint pleading tone in that last statement.)

The Secret Garden

On Saturday we were invited to attend a garden party. It was set in Hanwell on the West Ealing borders and to anyone who is cognisant with the area this does not necessarily indicate a palatial setting when the word garden is referenced. However hidden behind high fencing we came across the most beautiful and creative oasis that you could ever hope to find. A veritable poem of a secret garden. The front area was domed over by tree branches creating a tunnelled effect adding to the sense of entering another world. It was obviously appreciated by wild life as I noted a birds nest high up in the branches. The flat itself was outstanding but the rear garden literally took my breath away. Everywhere you turned there was something exceptional to marvel at. The real wonder was the size of the garden as it was in reality quite a small space but crammed into it and not looking as if they were fighting for that space were various shrubs, ponds, fountains, a Jacuzzi, barbeque area and a variety of open spaces for sitting including what they had cleverly labelled a quadroundel as it was a fourth of a round seating summer house. Stones and statues peeped out and created juxtapositions with the various bushes and flagged mounds. Coloured solar and white lights were cunningly placed to accentuate the areas of interest and split bamboo screens hid the roadway from behind fir trees. In contrast to those garden plants that we look upon as ‘normal’ in relation to the British weather, there were large cacti openly growing and in a small but compact greenhouse an incredible display of cacti of various sizes, many of which were in flower. Philip the creator of this space admitted that it had taken eighteen years to bring it to perfection. It was truly a work of art.

My friend John, and Wesley another of the flat mates had produced a very appetising display of party food and the wine flowed freely. There were so many interesting people to chat too and some had come from as far away as Norfolk to attend. It was a real pleasure to have been there and to meet them all. We arrived home around midnight, perhaps a little merrier than we should have been. The cats complained that we had been gone too long and demanded food before we were permitted to fall into our beds.

Cat has Trophies

Just when I thought it could not get any worse the kitten invasion spread to the living room. This occurred largely through the machinations of Youngest daughter and her affianced, who trapped the critters in an attempt to impose order on their chaos. The results were howling in various keys that continued into the small hours. They hid in every recess available and in a major breakout two fled for the upstairs. Youngest daughter throwing herself in the path of the main Tuxedo culprit suffered various scratches and abrasions. The howling continued as Tuxedo two missed his sibling and eventually for the sake of those needing sleep he too was released into the care of his mother.

Angel meanwhile had visited the veterinary surgeon to be neutered. She was extremely well behaved during this ordeal and decided that the cat carrier was a suitable cave to hide out in from the unwanted attention of the kittens during the next two days.

We originally named the upstairs group ‘the renegade three’. They have established a bridge head in the storage room from which they can occasionally erupt to cause maximum destruction. However, yesterday the managed to earn themselves yet another nickname. I was awakened by the thundering of tiny paws and realised that they were racing up and down the stairs. As the main house cats are not particularly kitten friendly I went to investigate and make sure they were properly chaperoned. Middle daughter has a habit of leaving her clean washing on the stairs until her brain synapses click into carry it up mode. The kittens had used a pile of clean washing to form a sledge run and it lay in confusion about the lower hall. That is apart from socks. They had been selecting socks and carrying them upstairs as some form of trophy. I retrieved the aforementioned socks and replaced the washing in a neat pile. The guilty parties hung over the top of the banisters with angelic expressions on their faces. They are now known as the Tuxedo Mafia.

London Visit

On Saturday Eldest daughter arrived in London for an educational conference. Happy to have another chance of a grand day out Middle daughter and Eldest son, complete with his partner, were dragged into Paddington to meet up at the Hilton hotel. From this salubrious venue we made out way to a public house that had been researched for its good food and real ale content by Eldest son. It was a good choice apart from the fact that it has been some time since my body experienced a good British bitter and it chose to be upset by a pint of this substance. The meal that I had was amazingly good both for the money and the actual content. I chose a beef steak pie with seasonal vegetables and the pastry alone was a hymn to the powers of their cook.

Following this we caught a bus (this turned out to be a bad move) from the Paddington area along Oxford Street to the British Museum. It was an exceptionally hot day and two elderly passengers had to get off the bus and escape from the heat. I felt considerably faint and actually had to sit out the museum trip in the shade. The others visited the Syrian and the Egyptian exhibit and were thoroughly worn out by the time the museum closed. They are holding an exhibition of Aztec works later in the year and this is probably a good time for me to go back and visit again.

We intended to move on to Museum Street and visit Atlantis. This bookshop sells many different books and articles that relate to the esoteric. Some of their books being secondhand copies of works that are no longer available. We did arrive in time to see part of the stock and I unfortunately bought three books just prior to their closing which coincided with the first drops of storm rain. The need to seek shelter took us into another public house and there we sat and watched some tennis in between drinking a few glasses of white wine. By the time we emerged Forbidden Planet, which was also on our list to visit, had long since closed. There was nothing left to do but depart for China Town and visit the Malaysian restaurant that Eldest son’s partner had researched on the Internet.

Again we had a very good meal and making our way to Piccadilly and from their Paddington, everyone departed in their own directions. Middle daughter and myself made our way back to Southall Station and thence the bus stop where we encountered an old diving school friend who had been on the same train. It was such an eventful day and we were exhausted by the time we arrived home. The cats were not happy. Some were on the missing list. A dead rat had been left in the kitchen for our supper (this is a sure sign of their displeasure). During the night I was awoken by Demon who had caught yet another juvenile rat and was playing with it in the hallway. Middle daughter commented that they must have been sacrificing them at the alter of their particular cat gods to make sure we returned. The dead bodies were removed and all seemed to have settled when in the living room I came across a frog pretending to be a statue. It was very much alive and certainly not happy about being indoors. I transported it back to the garden now sodden with rain.
Later this afternoon we are off to a barbeque in celebration of a first communion. I dread to think what will await us on our return.

The Great Escape

On Wednesday evenings I attend the local Spiritualist Church Circle, where we meditate and attempt to contact those that have passed over. I arrive home from this at around ten o’clock and usually Middle daughter is asleep. Last night was just a little different as when I opened the door three of the house cats met me with pitiful expressions. (This is not entirely unusual as I frequently have one meet me with reproach for daring to leave them alone) This time however there was a general air of “It wasn’t my fault”.

I placed my bag down in the hallway and started to take out some bits and pieces when the door to youngest daughter’s room creaked open and the thunder of size six feet descended the stairs with Middle daughter attached. She had the look of someone who has been through a major crisis and I was suitably alarmed. “I can’t find one of them”, she said. (This is also not unusual so I was puzzled at her concern).

“I found Batman half way down the stairs,” she continued, “and Mini me was in my bedroom. Also two of the Tuxedo’s were in the bathroom with the Tabby.” It seems that Angel decided to have an evening out as well and in her absence the tribe decided to check out some more suitable territory. Kittens had streamed out of their room and over the entire upper floor. (Not to mention down the stairs into house cat territory). The problem with this adventure is that they are still only half tame and also extremely willful. Scare tactics had worked on Batman and to some extent on the others and she had lured those unresponsive to fear with their favourite toy, however one of the Tuxedo’s was missing.

As I originally had a much larger area to contain my many pastimes the small bedroom at this house is packed full of boxes and bags containing bits that seemed to be of great importance once upon a time. I have been thinking of sorting through these at some future point when there was less for me to do like watching CSI or chatting on the telephone, so to find one small and largely black kitten in amongst a badly constructed pyramid of belongings was not something that I could swear to being keen on. We checked the usual places that furry bodies liked to sleep in and found no extra kittens. I sat in the room until Angel returned in the hope of getting them to come out and play en masse but this too turned up no extra Tuxedo bodies. Eventually I crawled off to sleep.

This morning all the monsters were there bright eyed and bushy tailed. I begin to suspect that they are deliberately toying with us. I await the arrival of Youngest daughter next week with some satisfaction as she can throw her energy into catching them and I can retire to the forest for some gentle tree dismantling.

Kitty Update

It is such a delight to have kittens as the first thing I managed to do was pull an already stressed muscle in my back whilst dragging more food home for them. They have increased our food to cat ratio by double which is no mean feat for such small beings. After their initial aversion to all things human they are now condescending to allow us to entertain them with string and other wonders. This requires a human to kitten input of some two hours per human per day and is drastically curtailing other forms of pursuit such as house cleaning and garden clearance. The forest is now distinctly threatening the house.

I managed a trek into Southall and a brief visit to one of the church ladies but this did set me back the next day. On the plus side I collected some feathers that she had found for me, that I need to finish decorating a shamanic drum. I have already strung beads from this and I am hoping the final effect will rival the North American Indian variety of drum. Why am I doing this? I really cannot find a suitable answer to that apart from the fact that I bought the drum and it looks a little bare. In theory I can, once it is suitably enhanced either call good spirits to me or banish bad ones. This may save them from becoming entangled in the various dream catchers that hang in my room courtesy of various offspring. I have also been beading other things, as there are a limited number of occupations open to one whose back refuses to support more mundane tasks.

What should I be doing, apart from lion (ooops kitten) training? Well there are two proofs waiting for me to read them and make comments and also other pressing projects that should have been finalized some three months back. The year is beginning to slip away from me and tomorrow is the summer solstice. Unfortunately I am having difficulty staying in a focused frame of mind. To add to my general sense of anxiety and confusion, I also await the return of youngest daughter complete with fiancé and lots of washing together with a social calendar that is rapidly becoming swamped with soirees and barbeques. I am also waiting to hear from the organisor of the local carnivals to see if I will be annoying the local religious sycophants with my presence at the infamous Greenford carnival. A psychic’s fun is never over.

As an after thought, I have managed to determine the sex of batman, mostly as he got stuck upside down whilst trying to haul his now rotund body through a narrow gap. It is a giant leap forward.

Now We are Six: with apologies to A.A.Milne

Angel made a second attempt and this time the small monster ran between our neighbours garage and fence. It took ages for her to coax him out of there and once more she tried. This time he got as far as the house before scuttling off yet again. On the fourth attempt she managed to convince him to enter but then he saw Middle daughter’s feet and off he went. We were now pretending to be statues. Time ticked slowly by and yes he made it to the bottom of the stairs at which point Middle daughter raced to shut the door.

We then had to detach him from the bookcase but he was struggling wildly. She passed him to me and I made it up half the stairs before he sank fangs into my thumb. He flew through the air for a couple more steps and then bolted into the bathroom and took up residence under the bath (yet another story). We pushed Angel into the bathroom but she did not want to look for him and got quite assertive about this. We retired to have some refreshments.

Whilst we were discussing further moves Angel reappeared with another kitten. This one was more amenable and was raced up the stairs to join the others. We were pleased as now we felt the family was complete and safe but off Angel went again and yes there was yet another. Five kittens, most amazing from such a small cat, but they seemed fairly well fed and healthy. This kitten tried to dive behind the bookcase in the hallway. It was remarkably like Mimi apart from its facial adornment, which made it look like a miniature batman. Having extricated it from its chosen hiding place we wrapped it in (more smothered it in) a sweatshirt to carry it to its siblings.

Number three was still under the bath at this point and doing a very good impression of being part of the plumbing. It was getting late and we were exhausted so it was decided to cook dinner as obviously we now had five kittens relatively safe. I was just chopping onions when Angel appeared. She had another kitten. This one sighted the space under the sink cupboard and bolted into it. I put down my chef knife and dived after it. Luckily it was fairly docile on the upward trip and soon it had vanished into the mysterious depths of youngest daughter’s old room.

We were so tired by the time dinner was cooked that we could not remember how many kittens there were as much of the afternoon seemed to have extended into the Dream Time. It was no good trying to count them as they were firmly hidden behind musical instruments and computer parts.

I put in an emergency plea for a much larger dirt tray and one of my neighbours came racing round the next day full of kitten hopes. I told her she would be lucky but she tried and saw zero kittens. Somebody up there is eating all the food and using the dirt tray. The Tuxedo gentleman is out from under the bath and back with the brood. He is obviously the most hyperactive and they have formed a three aside football team as I can hear them thundering across the floor after the balls I thoughtfully (I am an idiot) provided. They are waking me up at least twice a night. (Only an idiot would choose to sleep in the room below a herd of kittens with big boots on). I have moved some things around to make sure they are fairly safe and Angel is doing her own thing whilst expecting me to baby-sit at a moments notice. I must add here that donations of food are always welcome.

Tuxedo Sunday

What a fun day we are having. Angel has reappeared with yet another kitten. This one is Tuxedo marked. However as she was not carrying it but encouraging it to walk the other cats gathered round to see the show and the kitten taking its first look at human beings ran screaming. This proved very diverting for the resident cat population however the two Gemini siblings started to argue with each other. I threatened them that the kittens were their birthday presents and that they would have to take care of them. Tequila moved off in disgust but Pukwadji tried to hide herself in the rose bushes. It is their first real view of kittens since they too were at that stage.

Bobo, who is slightly jealous of the attention Angel has received, was watching from one vantage point whilst Fatso (I hate all other black cats but me) was also in evidence. Demon perceiving that his presence might prove detrimental to his on going status in the house walked off to find more interesting things and Genghis remained at her post guarding my bed.

Meanwhile Middle daughter and myself became entangled in various bushes and brambles. The kitten was eventually picked up by Middle daughter but, as she was frightened of hurting it, the small monster jumped free and again speeded off. Angel is now attempting to lure it in once more. We wait with baited breathe for the next development.

Stop the Press

Another kitten has been sighted. This one is a tuxedo cat (with white bib and beard and four white paws, the rest being black). It is a good size for seven weeks but so far is evading both its mother's and our attempts to capture it.

Rhubarb and Custard

Due to the drop in temperature and rainy conditions, we moved the twins (and I am using this term as their relative sizes reminds me of the Hollywood film ‘Twins’.) into youngest daughter’s old bedroom. Angel was transported there to view them and plates of various baby foods were placed at their disposal. Angel then took herself off and vanished for some twelve hours.

On her return I fed her and then took her upstairs to see the babies. She called for them and the tiny one immediately came out from under the desk. The larger kitten that I have started to call Custard eventually crept out from under the wardrobe. Angel seemed pleased to see them and fed them herself, but was more interested in getting back out into the garden. We checked on the kittens at regular intervals and it was not until six hours later that Angel returned.

I had begun to grow worried as previously she was feeding every two hours. Once again she was carried up to see them and this time the larger one did not come out, but then she did not call. The tiny one joined her in a dish of cat food and egg yolk. They came close to eating the same amount as each other. Eventually, however kitty toddled off under the desk once again without a backwards glance and Angel strolled out as if this was what she had always intended. I said it was strange that she was not teaching them to hunt and Middle daughter stated that she thought Angel had shown them how to adopt human beings to hunt for them. I am inclined to agree with this.

To those that have been following this and also read the obituary for Mimi, I have to add that the tiny one is remarkably similar in colour and markings and most definitely similar with regard to food consumption

Angel: The Saga Continues

Angel continues to feed at regular two hourly intervals. However her body mass seems to be dropping radically so the lack of solid food for the kittens is beginning to show. Middle daughter took a trip through the forest, bearing a food gift, and could not find any sign of them but considering that despite her slender size she does sound like a rhino charging through the undergrowth, I was not surprised.

We have enjoyed two days without the builders next door but today they are back with some form of sawing machine and thoroughly enjoying themselves once more. It is therefore very unlikely that Angel will attempt to shift her offspring today. They are now at seven weeks and I suppose, considering how tiny she is, they must be fairly small kittens. The Magpies out back are raising a commotion, which usually indicates a cat is moving in their vicinity, so the potential is there. However, another draw back could be the state of my grassland, which is now rivaling a wheat field. I can just imagine small kittens trying to plough their way through the endless sea of green. Perhaps I should keep goats or sheep instead of cats.

I started this section over three days ago and then was distracted by other matters. A surprising turn around occurred yesterday. It was youngest daughter’s birthday and she being in Preston we were not expected to attend her birthday barbeque. It was around four in the afternoon when I saw Angel on her way to the back door with a large furry bundle in her mouth. I shouted to Middle daughter and she came rushing down the stairs. The bundle being unceremoniously dropped outside the door decided that I represented a major threat and slunk off to hide in an old Tea chest that is outside in the garden. (Don’t ask me to explain the significance of this ornament). Angel ate. We looked at the kitten. The kitten cowered. Middle daughter got some food into a bowl and offered this to the kitten. Angel finished eating and went off up the garden. We waited.

I decided to telephone youngest daughter and report on the arrival. As I was describing the kitten, some twenty odd minutes later, back she came and collided with Pukwadji who had taken herself off into the shrubbery. There was hissing and a bundle was dropped. I came off the telephone. Middle daughter rushed to pick the baby up. The second kitten was one third of the size of the first. It was an amazing bundle of fur with bat ears and not at all perturbed by its adventure. We placed it into the Tea chest and it threw itself at the food plate biting the plastic at first until it discovered the content was slightly more amenable. If prizes were given for food consumption that tiny creature would rival its ravenous mother.

Angel marched back into the kitchen and ate some more. We moved the tiny one into the rabbit hutch with the plate of food. I then turned the Tea chest up and dragged the larger rebel out and placed it with its sibling. Angel seemed to appreciate this act and off she went again. Twenty odd minutes passed during which time I telephoned youngest yet again. Finally Angel reappeared but this time there was no kitten. She gave a brief look at the others and went off again. Again time passed and she returned empty handed. From her belly it is obvious that she has been feeding at least four kittens. I do not like to weigh the alternatives but many a first litter fails through lack of sufficient milk and number two arrival was painfully thin.

Snow Angel

For all those that have queried the exact nature of the small and aggressive Angel, I have uploaded this photograph of her taken by Middle Daughter in the snow. It is quite reasonable camouflage. Those offspring of hers are six weeks old today and must be hungry as she has been in for food four times so far and the day is only half begun.

Angel: An Update

Her ladyship is gaining weight again and has still not brought her offspring home. I was considering renaming her Attila the Hun as she engages with the cat flap in the manner of a battering ram. This ensures that I fall out of bed and rush to the door. Today this occurred at ten minutes to three am. She repeated it at six as well but by that time middle daughter was up and cat feeding. There has been one successful entry made and we suspect that her small size is causing a problem with coming in, as the gap between the flap and the ground is rather large. I may install a step for her.

The building works continue unabated next door and the banging has been horrendous. They also have a masonry drill that was chewing its way through the brickwork yesterday. I was heard to mutter that if it broke through my wall I would charge them rent. The noise and general melee of male builders has upset some of the cats, Angel included, so we see little of them during the working hours. I suspect that this is the main reason for no kittens appearing but she is going to have to make a decision regarding them soon as at five weeks they should be weaning.

The house cats appear to have declared a state of truce with her for the present. I suspect that they are all exhausted from swearing at each other and the odd chase. There was a storm brewing yesterday and in the manner of cats they were rushing about play chasing. Angel was most stunned by this behaviour and probably will try and curtail such action in her own family. She has started purring like mad at the sight of me (Or is it the food sachets?) Hmmmm.

Mimi; An Obituary

The one plus of being in poor health is it gives you time to reflect on life, the universe and the nature of cheese. I have had a fun filled week with yet another hospital visit where after I fainted. This was mainly due to the fact that I have a flu style virus although I do not feel that it has porcine connotations. I managed to miss circle yet again and in place of that delight I was woken by some of the local youths who had witnessed a cat being run over and thoughtfully carried it to my door. The young man and his companions were very distressed and thinking about it in retrospect he must have been heavily blood stained. There was nothing that could have been done as from the injury I conjectured that the poor thing had died instantly. He was not one of my cats but a regular visitor. We had originally named him ‘Hissy Fit’ as he had a strange guttural hiss, the like of which I had never come across. From the manner in which he lunged at food we decided that someone was not feeding him.

I traced him to a Somalian family living some ten houses away and one of their neighbours told me that he often came into their house for a feed as well. He used our cat flap to the manner born and he did not harass my cat family unduly so I did not mind the odd plateful. He was about three years old and once I had established that his actual name was Mimi (A strange name for a rather butch un-neutered male) I proceeded to call him by this. He only responded if I said it in a way that mimicked Somalian speech, which reminded me of how French cats sound French when they meow and to some extent, explained his strange hiss.

Unfortunately the family moved about six weeks ago and he was left behind. A cat basket was visible through the windows of their house so the intent to take him seemed obvious. I can only surmise that they had to make a move and he was not around at that time. He came twice a day after this and also made an appearance at one of my neighbour’s houses that borders the main road where he met his end. She named him ‘Del Boy’ after the character in ‘Only Fools and Horses’ and this strangely suited him. I have not yet been able to tell her that he has passed away as my virus is keeping me housebound at the present. I did make a foray into the wood that I jokingly call a garden and buried him under the lilac bushes. He will be missed as he was such a character but we do suspect that Angel’s offspring may show similar genetic traits. Time will tell.

A Medium Day Out

On Saturday I went to the Stanstead Hall for the first of their weeklong open days. Stanstead Hall is the seat of the Arthur Findlay College and belongs to the SNU. The day included many lectures and demonstrations culminating in an evening demonstration of mediumship with Tony Stockwell and Mavis Pittilla. The day was bright and sunny with just a little breeze. The grounds were stunning and beautifully maintained, the main drawback being a journey around the M25 to Stanstead.

Trevor who is our circle leader set up the visit and he arranged to pick up Carol and myself to drive us there. I have often thought of attending the college for either a day or week course but the cost is rather prohibitive if you are of straightened means, or relying on self-employment, although people do manage to come from all over the world to stay there for weeklong courses.

Trevor has been there for a few courses over the years and is on good terms with some of the best tutors so we had some guidance as to which lectures and demonstrations were the most productive for us as a circle to attend. One of his friend’s from those courses was also there with her circle and we joined forces for most of the time apart from occasional meal breaks.

I have been trying to articulate exactly what I got from the day and it is proving difficult. I was extremely tired by the time that we arrived back and I am still, to an extent, digesting the contents of the day. Small flashbacks are occurring and gradually I am piecing together the whole. I suppose it would help to talk about it to the others and see what they recollected.

We saw a trance medium working and also had out consciousness raised. (I fell asleep during the latter which says very little for the level of my consciousness) We also experienced claustrophobia from the number of people thronging the hallways and lecture rooms. There was a restaurant and also a marquee had been set up in the grounds to serve snacks and hot drinks as a form of overspill. They made most of the pastries served there, on the premises, and the Cornish pasties in particular, looked delicious. I had thoughtfully made myself some pasta and gravilux with salad for lunch so I did not participate in tasting the other delights.

Trevor purchased the consciousness raising CD so that we can practice it in the circle. As it is circle tonight I am looking forward to the extra sleep and may take my pillow with me.

Angel Update

Angel has still not condescended to bring her children home for a meal. She is visiting three times a day for food and consuming most of it in the kitchen rather than al fresco as in the past. She was even tolerant of the door blowing shut as we have had strong winds of late. I know have offers on two more kittens as long as they are female. Hopefully the kittens will appreciate my efforts even if Angel does not.

The builders next door seem to have demolished most of the houses internal structure. I am really curious as to what they are planning to do with the remaining shell. Unfortunately for me they have white washed the windows. Sometimes life is very unfair.

The Beginning and an Overview

Although I officially met the Dragon at the local Dance School, I also had seen her in the local Wholesalers. I was I admit somewhat surprised when I read somewhere in her ramblings that she had always held management positions. I knew that she was for some years the receptionist at an opticians and at the Wholesalers she was one of the people that picked out the goods ordered by postal and similar clients as well as the goods needed by the shops that the wholesaler owned, her sister being the actual wholesale manager. There were brief periods of other work at the British Telecom offices where she was in a clerical position and then with an Egyptian travel company where for a short time before they became bankrupt, she was the administrative manager. The final official working position, apart from the self employed card manufacture and the Triangle of Life, which effectively collapsed, was as the main administration for her friend’s plumbing concession that also collapsed within a year of being implemented.

There is, of course, the brief interlude that has been mentioned by a YouTube member named Mandelajo that is something that I may write about at another time but this too was certainly not of the managerial nature. Therefore I can state effectively that during the time that I was officially one of the Dragon’s ‘friends’ that I did not really know of her holding any management position that I would as a professional person deem to be such.

However, when we write our own stories we do need that leeway of elastication that allows some of our truth through and gives the fantasy extrudation a space to breathe. But I can only state that I originally knew the Dragon more through her work at the local wholesalers, where I was sometimes a client, as I ran a small stall at the Dance School and also sold party plan for a while whilst I was a self-employed designer.

They say that “Needs must when the Devil drives”; so perhaps that also provides the area of fabrication and elasticity around the Dragon’s truths. How can I say, as I am no longer au fait with her immediate mindset? The one thing that I am certain of from my acquaintance with psychological analysis, is that many people need to establish a place of safety where they appear to be effective and to have contributed to society (witness many of our politicians and their need for aggrandizement). We are human and humans do have the drive to show themselves as functioning on more than a mundane level, particularly when they have nothing else in their psychological make-up to project as a lasting image of contribution to life itself.

I knew that some time in the past she had joined a group who looked at esoteric phenomena and that she no longer liked to participate in such matters. I knew that she had a computer and that she was linked to the Internet but that she rarely used it for anything other than playing solitaire or scrabble. It must be some twelve to thirteen years now since I first discovered Delphi, a psychic chat site. I talked Dragon into going into this and having a look around. She obviously liked what she found there as she stayed and in time became regarded as almost an oracle by many of the staff and members. During this period we attended ‘Meets’ in Wales, Birmingham and Luton with other members and some friendships were formed. It was at the Luton ‘Meet’ that she became truly acquainted with the now owner of Mediumystics, who had traveled there with her husband to be and two of her children. At some point around this time she was also one of the Delphi group that attended Stanstead Hall on one of their open days and her photograph was taken with some of the Delphi mediums and the owners of the Delphi site. Unfortunately things turned suddenly awry when there was a major reshuffle of staff members in Delphi and many of us who were not staff but ordinary members, were deemed superfluous by a woman known as Psyche. It was from this expulsion that Mediumystics was created, originally by a lady known as Aphrodite with the help of the now owner. Afterwards, when it had been commercialized to an extent, she sold out to the now owner.

I was staff for a while but eventually I left and joined another site named Spirit and Soul that was more user friendly. It was a very well constructed site as the owner had built it for his wife who was a psychic, although much of the time she was too ill to use it. As it had so much effort put into it, there were groups attracted to the facilities that tried to take it over. I always found this odd as all sites have an owner and the owner should be the one appointing staff as after all the owner is the one paying the hosting. The Internet does not sprout sites willy-nilly for the sake of those that feel they need to feed their egos. But such people still exist and still try and storm the palisades. Sometimes they destroy by attacking all and sundry so that people coming to find comfort are driven away. Many good small sites have come and gone in the years since I have been on the Internet and it is a shame that they have gone and that people feel the need to attack those to whom they should feel related. I have also seen other sites where the original staff members have walked away in disgust when owners have taken a back seat against the more virulent attackers and then the lunatics truly do end up running a mad house.

I no longer frequent Psychic sites although I am welcomed to the circles on some of the better ones.

Martyring or Marketing; Pardon My Dyslexia

I was one of the original creators of the Triangle of Life cards and as such spent time looking at the marketing of the product. I was not allowed to actually engage with this apart from producing names and addresses of potential suppliers so that Dragon or her son could contact these. My actual expertise in marketing was considered non-essential, as they were both natural entrepreneurs. Dragon’s son had the idea to launch the product in an up market restaurant/wine bar that a friend of his owned. I was informed that we would be doing this and that there would be celebrity guests there, in general a glittering evening where the cards would be demonstrated for the amusement of the guests and media. This sounded perfect and I was pleased to fall in with the suggestion.

Time slowly passed and I queried the event date. It seemed there was a holdup. Eventually I was informed that it would now be held at Dragon’s house so that there was no further delay and that a marquee would be erected to take the large number of guests. There was nothing for me to do but turn up. I considered writing a piece for the local newspaper, a form of advertorial that new companies are inclined to produce in the hope of gaining free space. This was disregarded, as Dragon is well known for her erudite writing. I reminded her that if she was going to contact both the local paper and any other press that this should be done in advance of their deadlines. I got the impression that I was somehow telling my grandmother how to suck eggs, and so I left everything in her capable hands.

I checked in on the Friday prior to the launch and was slightly perturbed when Dragon asked me if I had telephoned the local paper. I began to get the feeling that my previous advice had been totally disregarded. “No,” I replied to her, “You said that you were taking care of the press”. It was certainly too late to catch a reporter but I did email the local office in the vague hope that one might be looking for copy for next weeks edition and also there was the possibility of sending a belated advertorial regarding the launch.

The day, or rather the evening dawned. I dressed in my glittery, eveningwear and swaned into the assembly. The usual suspects were occupying the comfortable seats in the lounge area. These comprised Dragon’s family and close friends. There were old friends’ of Dragon’s son there and numerous neighbours. I espied two psychics that I knew through the Delphi chat site and it was a pleasure to see them again. I was placed on the upper landing of the house at a card table and a queue was formed up the stairs for me to read. As Dragon does not read for her family and friends, I was allotted the task of so doing. I stated that there were certain of her friends that I would not read for as I found them singularly unpleasant, and this was accepted. Eventually as I neared total exhaustion Dragon took over and I had the chance to speak to some of the guests.

There were no members of the press present and no people from the trade. The celebrities were noticeable by their absence and I was left feeling very used and greatly saddened that all that hard work and potential had been in vain. The marquee that was specially bought for the occasion and could have been used again or even hired out to regain costs was left to fall apart in the autumn storms.

The Angel Saga Continues

Over the weekend we have acquired some new neighbours. The father of the new owner, being a builder, has dedicated this next week to renovating the property and fixing fences. There is some muted banging going on at present, for which they have apologised in advance. An attempt was made on the bushes and parts of the path weeded during Saturday afternoon and I must admit that I did feel guilty as I could not clip my overhanging bushes as I would have normally done.

The cats meanwhile are about to face climbing fences rather than sauntering through the gaps left by the winter storms. My main concern is that Angel brings the kittens through before her passageway is impeded entirely. She has largely ignored us for two days apart from an evening feast but today she demanded breakfast and part of this was eaten in the kitchen. This is a major breakthrough as she has not had the courage to do this before and the other cats settled to eating with her despite her bad language.

Last Monday I was in hospital for some more interesting tests one of which being a somewhat lengthy procedure. I had undergone three quarters of this when they equipment decided to malfunction and as there were no other machines available they had to stop. I must admit I was not happy at this as it necessitates my attendance for another try tomorrow and the consumption today of some quite evil medicines. I will be in the house for the first part of the morning but then I will have to leave to reach my appointment in time so I am slightly worried that if Angel repeats today’s activities that she will feel I am dismissing her needs. The best scenario would be for her to transfer the kittens to the hutch during this evening, but I am not holding my breath as I can see she is a small cat of little sense.

Bluebells and Fey Folk

My garden(s) both front and back are at present a sea of blue and mauve flowers, with the occasional white hybrid thrown in for good measure. It is the time of bluebells and forget-me-nots, which thrive in this soil. Technically we have heavy clay but my mother worked quite an amount of sand and manure into parts of it and I have added composted manure and vegetable waste. It is still clay and prone to dry hard and crack at the slightest sign of sun but fertile clay.

I was looking at data on bluebells as mine have hybridized over the years and it would seem that the real English bluebell is the one that gives off a pleasant scent on warm days. I have always brought some into the house because of the scent but I had not realized that all parts of the plant are poisonous or that they are linked so intensely to fairy folklore. So to any fairies reading this I extend my apologies for marauding through their favourite plants so ungallantly.

There are a variety of versions regarding the link to the wee folk but mostly it seems they decorate their ponies with the flowers and like to dance to the sound of their ringing bells. For a human to hear the bells ring may indicate the need to make a will rather fast or (I prefer the or version) herald their entrance into the fairylands that exist in a form of parallel world pocket to our own. The downside of expecting to be transferred is that they are not likely to want to abduct someone of my advanced years.

I first learned of their link to bluebells in Liverpool at the November conference that I attended. I always find it strange to come across apiece of folklore that intrudes into my reality segment, as if I should have known that bluebells were so closely connected. I was aware of the Oak, Ash and Thorn connection courtesy of Rudyard Kipling and Puck of Pooks Hill. I was also familiar with the ring of toadstools, which can also be a ring of mushrooms. I have even seen and stepped into such a ring in the vague hope that something magical will come to pass. Perhaps it did and this is an alternate universe to the one I started off in but somehow even my fantasizing brain doubts this.

We have had too much sun this year so the life cycle of my bluebells will soon be reduced to the shedding of seed and the slow withering of the leaves. On the upside I do not have to strim those areas of the grass that they have colonized until they die completely away. In the meantime, this is the best time of the year to look out and appreciate my forest clearing.

Meanwhile to any who are reading my blogs, Angel did stop by for a large meal yesterday evening before vanishing yet again.

From Here to Maternity

There are a surprisingly large number of cats in our road. Many households now have two or three each. The area is not as concreted over as many in the locale but there are a few gardens both front and rear that boast hard surfaces. Our back garden is a fairly chaotic place with trees and shrubs in abundance and this attracts not only the local birds but also foxes and cats, making it an ideal vantage point to see wildlife in an urban setting. The house cats are not particularly fond of sharing their territory, although the younger ones do sometimes play tag with each other and their chosen neighbours. One of our visitors is called Angel, mostly because she is so dainty and really beautiful. She is a long-haired white and black cat with some grey tones. The effect with large saucer eyes is quite haunting. We have never been able to find where she came from but judging from her initial size, which has not changed that greatly she was approximately three to four months when she first appeared in our garden. She naturally shuns much of humanity and even other cats but she truly loves being in touch with nature.

It was early summer when we first became aware of her and as the season lengthened and finally dissolved into autumn she was still there, hiding from the others and looking at a world, that should have seemed natural through slightly fearful glasses. We tried to tempt her in but she evaded our efforts.

Eventually winter took hold and I felt that she would look on this askance and soon we could treat her as one of the family. This proved untrue and even when, with the help of the local Cat Rescue person I managed to trap her in the house she proved unco-operative and escaped during the night via the cat flap. That was not to say that she was averse to lying on the sofa, with me, and having her fur ruffled, because that she seemed to enjoy. To those with new cats this may seem strange as mostly kittens take between one to three weeks to engage with a cat flap. It was at this point that we were certain she had been a house kitten and chosen to live outside.

As the seasons turn so do female cats come in to their natural season and thus our small Angel became a rather hippy child that middle daughter referred to as suffering from gas. My youngest daughter and her partner were overjoyed as they saw her as the epitome of all that was desirable in a house pet. (Sometimes I wonder about the young and their perception of reality) Much speculation ensued and orders were placed for potential offspring. We waited. Easter turned and there was little response until the early hours of the Easter Monday. She displayed all the signs of a cat in the progress of labour. We were not allowed to leave her alone. Youngest daughter and I sat out in the dark until gone three am despite the heavy dew and the inevitable damage to our lungs. Eventually she climbed into the rabbit hutch, which we had streamlined for her comfort and went to sleep. We crawled off to bed. No kittens were forthcoming.

Life resumed some sense of normality for two days until she suddenly walked off into the sunset and no more was seen of her for some four days. By this time I had been back to the local hospital for more tests and was not in the mood or physical condition to follow small felines on a creative kitten search. Luckily she came back the next evening and for this we were delighted. Youngest daughter had by this time returned to Preston and I immediately telephoned her with the good news.

Meanwhile in the depths of Hungary and just returned from her Milan trip eldest daughter was also fretting about the state of kittendom. I had to email reassurance of her return. The next day I awoke to find Angel at my bedroom window looking starved. (I am sure that she took an acting course to achieve this look as it is so professionally carried out.) Although I was very tired I got up and stayed within her reach for the next six hours. She had numerous food pouches and lots of concentrated dried food, together with a tin of red salmon I had saved for my lunch and some evaporated milk that I had purchased in case I needed to hand rear kittens. She spent much of the morning close to the hutch and we were again excited. The kittens had obviously been born elsewhere and it is unusual for a mother cat to move too far away from them. We surmised that they had been moved during the night into the hutch. As if to prove this she then started a tour of my room and the kitchen area of the house seeking another place for her brood. Eventually she took off over my neighbour’s wall and I went outside and peered into the rabbit hutch. There were no kittens.


It was some twenty minutes later that Angel re-appeared. She ate some more and then she had a dust bath before taking over a sunny spot for a long sleep. If ever a cat was happy she was definitely it. She ate yet again and sauntered off with out a care in the world. I had spent by this time, twelve hours on Angel watch and I felt exhausted. It is now the next day and she has not yet shown her face.

They Came From Internet Space

And finally I got a round tuit, thus enabling myself to do a little writing, so as promised a reprise on the Invasion of the Mad Mollys.

A few weeks ago YouTube was invaded by a group of ‘Molly’s’. These appeared to be creatures of simplistic intelligence guided by two slightly more superior brained individuals. I am basing my premise on the fact that they did not make logical sense and were inclined to disrupt whilst there main leader was addicted to chimpanzee clips that they were frantically re-titling to prove the people they were attacking were in someway related to apes. Odd that, as all humans are related to apes and many apes are better behaved than man. I mused on their choice of name and thought perhaps they were linked to the children’s tales of “Milly Molly Mandy”. The age range suited but then I took a gargantuan step for mankind and all others who are naturally enamored with themselves and connected their insanity to the name Maguire.

For those who have managed to avoid the film (yes someone made a film about it) there are dubious historical references to a group of Irish catholic miners named the Molly Maguire’s. I am stating that the references are dubious as they are mainly documented by their adversaries and therefore open to an interpretation that may be far from truth.

However for the unenlightened the supposed group may have been named after a woman who ran an illegal ‘ale’ house, or a woman who was some form of martyr to their cause, or after a woman who helped them find their way to their meeting places or, and more aptly, as they were inclined to dress up as women to escape detection. I prefer to think of an anonymous group of Irish miners skulking through the night in dresses and bonnets as it has obviously more humorous connotations. Although from the behaviour of our very own group of Maguire’s they may have been in the illegal ale house prior to escaping Sunday sermon.

The reason for this invasion seems to have been an all out attempt to ridicule and berate those who were originally the innocent and bullied into submitting to the will of the minority ruling class in one rather small and badly run chat site. That they intimidated and threatened others into closing their accounts is palpably true but they do not seem to have honored their side of some supposed bargain in that there still exists a MollyMop (probably waiting to clean the blood of the floor after the victims have thoroughly demised.)

Other people with no reason whatsoever to be involved also took a delight in harassing those that they had a grudge against. One particularly nasty creature with an ego large enough to sink the titanic flaunted a slightly sad ability in Italian as she attempted to tell all and sundry how superior her intelligence was. I was not present for the entirety of the onslaught as I do have ongoing health problems but from the swathe of devastation I saw in the wake of their passing I am deeply saddened that these people consider themselves a) psychic, b) healers, c) empathic or d) spiritual.

Star Dancer

I dance amongst the stars
My atoms spread vast
Upon the energies flow
Space into Space
Wild with the rhythm of the planets
I dance amongst the stars

Within the ever flowing dark of light
No vacuum cold touches
Joy that is my souls beat
Space into space
I dance amongst the stars

As above so below
Perception is all energies flow
And time a spiralling compression
Existing in all times and space
I move between
I dance amongst the stars

But eternity’s voice whispers
Raging above the music of the spheres
Its siren song

Vast silence mirror of my own
Finally I know thy face
Heart of my soul
I hear

24th May 2001 (C)

I wrote this poem for yet another friend of mine called David. Strangely there have been quite a few that have shaped my life in one way or another. The many David friend's have proved a meaningful contact and development point for me and without them I might not have questioned and strived to find some measure of enlightenment. They have also forced me to face my own value system and more than that my own shadow.

Sick Note

To all those that have wondered where I was and to all those that were hopeful that I had gone for good, greetings.

A pulled back muscle has precluded my sitting for any length of time anywhere let alone at this console. I have seen a few odd bits of the recent interaction including a portion of the Mad Molly McGuire invasion on which I will write further perhaps later. I have also heard that they were ordered to come and cause disturbance and harassment by their leaders, one of whom is the infamous Dragon. (Do I hear rumblings of panzer tanks?)

I also saw an amusing Video that covers a Dragon’s tail from a different perspective to the one that she told to me and I will feature this in the future as well. My heartfelt thanks to Mandela Jo for bringing this back to my attention.

Flies on the Dung Heap: with apologies to Zola

Sometimes the things that we do are amusing but in themselves silly. Sometimes what we do is hurtful but does not sink to the level of being disgusting. It is always better not to hurt people and it is also better not to gauge their level and drop lower. But what do you do when there is no recourse other than to speak out against their nastiness. I feel that for a spiritual person this requires a degree of restraint and also it should not involve other people as in other than those who have struck the first blow. It would be lovely to turn the other cheek, but then we live in a world of rabid barracudas and small minds who fester and grow with their bullying techniques and attempts at distortion and invalidation using technology to oppress and demean.

What I saw today will haunt me as probably the lowest that these sick beings can sink to. All children have a right to be treated as innocent and vulnerable not exploited by twisted and manic minds and used for the furtherance of a so called spiritual site. A site I might add that is supposedly in the honour of one of their father’s who must be writhing in his grave at this excess of perversion.

They have already made jokes about a baby whose organs were removed in the Alder Hay scandal. They have made suggestive and sickening remarks regarding a young schoolgirl. All of this despite their statements that the police are investigating and that they have legal representatives working on it. I am sure that if they have, all of these people are as disgusted and horrified as I am at the depths to which they have plunged themselves. So now to their sins they have added child pornography.

Why are they doing this? The very woman who hit out at myself also drew the woman, whose child has been demeaned by these perverts, into this argument. They are attempting to use her as a tool to hurt yet another woman who had the courage to stand up and be counted against their evil ways. This latest horror is a direct result of her not becoming their weapon of choice. How dare they create victims and then victimize them further with their obscenities. May God have mercy on their sick souls.

Why am I surprised at this behaviour? I guess it is because I do not believe that people that I have known are capable of this but the evidence is there and it is clearly stated by the moronic trio that they employ to do their bestial work, that they are involved. Why I have any faith left in people that hit out at myself for no reason other than their petulant bitterness I am also at a loss to qualify.

I could have died through the machinations of one of this group’s leaders but have I been apologized to? No, I have been slandered further for daring to speak up with the real truth. Yes real truth. I have no reason to lie or misrepresent anything to anyone and I have held back from tales that are truly horrible but would effect the well being of those innocent.

Innocent is as innocent does. My next blogs may well be encompassing the reality behind a certain persons ‘innocent’ behaviour.

In Memorium

Today is the anniversary of the death of my dear friend Roy. He was someone very special and a brilliant Scrabble player. He died of a heart attack whilst out shopping for herbs and spices. He was also a great cook and at one time had worked as a butler. Through him I met another great and long term friend who was his partner for so many years. There were times when he could be quite acerbic but that was true Yorkshire coming through the London polish. I miss him as I know that John does too.

I did a small reading for a local Medium, a few months back, and he came through during it. The Medium described him as a father figure to which I had to giggle, but he often spoke to me as if he was one, as well as a friend, and I always felt deep down that he saw my middle daughter as a grandchild.

I wrote this small Capulet for him many years back when we were both in hospital together.

One person cannot hold up the world,
Even though it clamours to be held.
Sometimes we all need space to breathe,
Who gives to those that cannot take, but need.

I miss the scrabble, Roy.

“Master, when do we return to Transylvania? I grow weary of this world.”

Games are an important tool in the development of the human child and even as adults we do not outgrow their attraction. In fact many grow up to manufacture the games of a new generation. My first husband was a chess master and if you have ever played the game with any interest then you will realize how humiliating and counter productive it can be to lose continually. A game needs a learning curve and that curve should build gradually to the point where the participant has mastered the skills necessary to the best of their ability. At this point there has to be a manifestation of their achievement either in a scoreboard or the personal satisfaction of beating a known opponent.

I taught my friend’s teenage son to play chess and many years later he informed me that one of the high spots of his life was the time that he finally won a game from me. I never had that satisfaction from my ex husband and to this day I no longer play. Childish in its way, which is a strange overused statement. Children apply the ‘not fair’ rule to anything that stands in their way, but then so do the majority of adults. My moment of satisfaction came when one year we bought the board game Risk and played it non-stop for twenty-four hours. It took that long for me to form a tactic that ultimately defeated him and then we never played the game again. I guess that proves that we all hate to lose, particularly when we feel a certain amount of superiority to others.

Some people like to move outside the structured safe area of games, or maybe they are just not as good at certain games as others, (this is a hypothesis that requires further deliberation), and they prefer to play with the lives of real people. This gives them a feeling of being powerful and in control of their own narrow existences. This is one reason why the manipulators and bullies exist and why they self perpetuate their nastiness in a never ending drive to achieve mastery over others. The trouble occurs when the would be masters are the puppets of other would be masters. You can “cry havoc and let slip the hounds of war” but then you have to take some responsibility for the damage that those beings inflict, and it is not uncommon for the rabid pack to turn on those that have thrust them out upon the world.

I see the three-headed dog is back and this time the puppet master’s strings are even more visible. The name of the game is divide and conquer but the trouble is most of the participants have not mastered Risk yet let alone World Domination. As usual there is one amongst them that is attempting to be intelligent. Always a bad mistake when your English language skills are not up to par, but then everyone has to commit to their own learning curve in this life. True to the type they are also producing a satellite of neophyte bullies who are drawn like jackals to where the hounds feed. You could say that they live in Interesting Times but I hear that that is a curse.

Flood Tide

I was sitting by the river bank at Twickenham, just down stream from Richmond, which was visible from where I was seated on some concrete steps of a mooring place. It had rained heavily and somehow it reflected all the mixed emotions I felt concerning my friend David. He had sent me a postcard a month or so before his suicide and he seemed to be happy, but then he was good at covering up pain with humour. He had accompanied his mother on a trek across the Yorskshire Dales and he referred to himself as Sherpa Tensing, as she was using him to carry the backpacks.

I have always wanted to put a tribute together for him as he was a wonderful raconteur and a very caring friend. He would have made a brilliant mark on the world if he had lived. It is so hard to be caught between two worlds.



Floodtide
The River swollen like a toothache.
Waterfowl fight the currents.
Mud brown water
Runs like treacle.
Eddies, eddies, eddies.

Floodtide.
I cast my soul into these waters,
Watch it fight against the current.
Watching from the bank,
I’m drowning.
Floodtide.

If it rains anymore,
How will I take the shore?
Floodtide

(c) 1994 December

Some Days it is Good to be a Mother

There are people for whom the truth is a strange and convoluted device specifically designed to hide the inadequacies of their home lives. That is to say that they have to manipulate the actual truth to make it seem as if they do indeed enjoy basking in the warmth of their children’s adulation and care. This is sad and on a day such as this when Mothers are being remembered it must seem even sadder. It is little fun to receive an expensive bunch of flowers when no one visits, or to wave at an ensemble of cards when the reality is respect for tradition rather than love.

Despite her strange belief that I spent vast hours visiting her I did try and keep my trips to the Dragon’s Den to two or three hours a week. This was largely due to the fact that it was boring having to listen to endless details of people that I did not know on the Internet or again listening to the inane happenings of reality TV shows. My middle daughter had a period of unemployment some two years back when she was made redundant from the BBC. I was happily at work on my computer as I do on occasion sell readings on Ebay. The telephone rang. It was Dragon. She was upset. She radiated panic and anxiety. This was not normal Dragon mode and it was also unusual for her to telephone me. She had bad news and no she could not say it on the telephone. She seemed near to tears.

I put the telephone down and middle daughter asked me what was wrong. “I am worried about Dragon”, I said. “She sounded so distressed and she has had bad news from the hospital.

“What is wrong with her?”

“I do not know as she would not say over the telephone so it must be bad.”

I will point out at this stage that there are people who do not dance to the Dragon’s piping and one of these is her daughter. It is not just that the girl has her army career to think about or her marriage to take care of. She enjoys the company of her cousins and is frequently a visitor to their house two streets away from Dragon. This has been a bone of contention for some time now as her trips home are a trifle infrequent, but then children grow and live their own lives, and a good parent understands this. In fact the obvious answer would be to take a walk to her sister’s house where she would be welcomed and then able to enjoy the company of all. I can even remember that the consultant at the hospital recommended that she get out for a short walk every day so that she would not be putting on so much weight, as I had tried to encourage her in this.

Middle daughter thought briefly and then she pulled a ten-pound note from her purse. “Buy her some flowers, Mum, “ she said.

“Are you sure, I queried?” As she was surviving on unemployment benefit.

“It is okay,” she said I will manage.

I stopped at the local shop to buy flowers and secured these in my backpack. Then I cycled to the Dragon’s house.

She seemed bemused to see me and a little surprised at the flowers. She did not seem anxious or upset now.

“We were worried,” I explained, “Worried about your telephone call.”

“Oh that she,” said and at this she looked a little shifty. “They said I have to have a diabetes test”.

I swallowed and took a deep breath. I have had three such tests in my life and they are fairly standard, but then who am I to judge others. I smiled wanly.

“Did you phone my daughter,” she asked

Crime and Punishment

Many years back, in fact so far back that my middle daughter had great difficulty remembering it, an incident occurred in the local park. The park that backs on to Dragon’s house was also the local sports ground and had a cricket pavilion with tearoom. Not quite as posh as it sounds but definitely better that Greenford’s local park that boasts none of these wonders. Teenagers like to hang out. I can remember from when I was a young teenager that we would hang out in the local recreation ground. My daughter being no different and needing the company of her own ilk hung out at the park with Dragon’s daughter, as they were once great friends. The main focus of this behaviour being to hang out either inside or outside the tea room/café and get chatted up by the local boys.

The lady that ran the tearoom lived locally but not on the actual estate. She made the mistake of sensing that the girls had psychic potential and offered to help them develop this. Dragon was furious. She did not want anyone but herself to teach her daughter and she telephoned me in a great temper to suggest that we descended on the park and confront this usurper. This we dually did on the following Sunday. The tearoom was shut when we arrived and I heard no further on the subject.

Years past as they tend to when you are not watching them. (The years actually numbered twelve at this point but then one of Dragon’s favourite sayings is “Revenge is a dish best tasted cold”) The chat site had been running for just over a year when a new member joined. She was a lady from Lincolnshire way who claimed to be a medium. At first Dragon was happy to have her on board, so to speak but then, as she told us more about herself, this started to change. It seemed that she had moved from Southall to set up a cat sanctuary in Lincolnshire and yes you have guessed it she used to work in the local tearoom in the local park. It did not take long for Dragon to humiliate and belittle her and her abilities as a Medium. It did not take anytime at all to degrade her in front of other members and to drive her away. They say that punishment should fit the crime. I would hate to be Dragon.

You can Change the He to She; One Size Fits All

You have no substance
Only shadow, merging into shadow.
A bright technicoloured screen.
Dream state images,
Of a mind,
Wrapped in the grey, ice-calmed fog of unreality.

But he’s a kind man,
(They say),
Sensitive, kind to others.
All part of the illusion. Build yourself a personality.
Easy stage assembly kit,
As used...worldwide....
By the professional classes.
Paint this section with a touch of sympathy,
And here a small trace of humanity.
(Words shielding emptiness).
You too can have the ‘Good Image’,
Build yourself a personality.

You have no substance,
Behind the bright colours, I see,
Only shadow,
Merging,
Into shadow.
Dream state Images,
Of a mind,
Wrapped in the grey, ice-calmed fog of unreality.


© 1973

Cerberus

In Greek times Cerberus who was a three-headed dog guarded the mouth to hell. (Do not confuse with kitty from the Harry Potter series). It does seem to me that there are people inhabiting YouTube who arrive in threes and set up multiple web sites in threes, and hang together in threes. It could be all Greek or maybe a play on Macbeth as in “When shall we three meet again”.

I would also like to point out that we tended to hang witches rather than burn them alive. We were more likely to burn saints alive as in Joan D’ Arc. Guess it is something in the typical British temperament. I am lucky to be a vast portion French so maybe beheading would be my game of choice! Well certainment non. The French in me is Huguenot and they massacred our people who were unable to escape because we were Protestants. Rather like the Cathers that they burned alive at the same port my ancestors fled from La Rochelle. My genetic makeup is used to being slandered and accused by those that know no better, which is maybe why in this incarnation I am reluctant to take anymore from those who are small minded and incapable of empathic response.

However, I did believe that there was one clear and shining energy in that awful place and that was Astral. I am humiliated to say that I was so far from the truth and that she is indeed one with the likes of such an evil energy as the other parts of the dog of hell. J’ai desolute.

Having Your Sponge and Eating it Too.

Originally I found Delphi through typing psychic into Google. It was very exciting to find that there were places like it on the Internet, and at the time I thought that it was the only one. Such innocence was soon dispelled but it was certainly the biggest and busiest. This is going back some ten to eleven years ago.

I knew that Dragon had a computer but she did not really use the Internet that much. Although she had given up reading seriously many years back before I knew her she did still talk a lot about reincarnation and where she had lived in previous lives, however there was little real contact with the psychic side of things apart from attempts to guess the sex of babies (I did tell her it was a girl and I tried not to rub it in when it was.)

Therefore armed with a mission I descended on her house and introduced her to the delights of the psychic chat room. Yes I do have an awful lot to answer for and for all those that have suffered through my ill thought out act I humble beg forgiveness.

Anonymity allows one to be whatever one wishes to be and if you work hard at it you can create a wonderful new personality in a chat room. It also allows you to meet new and interesting people and this Dragon did. She was very popular with many at Delphi including the manager who was then called ‘Mother’. Craig eventually went potty over mythical names and renamed her Aphrodite. Kathryn was her second in command then and she was one who had come in seeking solace after her father’s death. Neither appeared to have any psychic ability. Eventually the site was disemboweled in a coup by a medium called Psyche. She was not a pleasant person and as her first act she banned everyone who had any loyalty to Aphrodite and also anyone who might possibly be a better medium than she was. (This was not difficult.)

So there we all were huddled together in MSN. Aphrodite decided to set up a new chat room called Mediumystics and this she did with Kathy’s help. It was wonderful until Aphrodite was ill and then fun and games broke lose in the chat room and new ideas that were lacking somewhat in spirituality were pushed through. Aphrodite was incensed when she came back and sold the chat room to Kathy in disgust.

Dragon had made a special friend in Delphi. She spent a lot of time talking both in pm and on the telephone to him and this continued with him actually coming down to London for the weekend. However it became too serious and he was talking of leaving his wife and moving in with her so she stopped the relationship. He was extremely upset. Dragon meanwhile had made another special friend, or so she hinted to me and then suddenly there was no more innuendos linking their names and she spoke of yet another who had the same sense of humour as she and how they got on so famously but in this case she was worried that his partner might become jealous. I was fast coming to the conclusion that she sought out this type of situation and I do admit that although I could sympathize with her first affair that it did seem to be getting slightly out of control.

I had left Mediumystics before some of these later events occurred so I had no opportunity to verify much of this at first hand, so to speak, but I do believe that she fully felt that she was telling me the truth when she boasted of her conquests. It makes me glad that I did leave as to be honest I do not see such actions as being right in a supposed spiritual setting.

Kew Watercolour

The queue at Kew is back gate
On the river,
A mud flat armada fresh dined on
Autumn squalls
Seek sanctuary and my bread roll,
Turning the air sharp
With their soap opera cries.
And around the bend
There comes in view
A lonely water boatman
Cambridge with cold,
Skulling lockward to Richmond.
Mallards transvestite with their
Last fat chicks of summer
Rush to and fro like excited
Coach trippers.
And overhead I see
The Canadian aerobatics team wheel
The sky
Winter one last nesting flight away
Whilst mud flatted,
Rust chipped,
And clinker built
A boat lazily leans against the mooring pillars
And banks burst to silver
In the misty mid-day air.

(c) 1994

Her Name was Anna

I am used to the beggars that frequent the West End of London. Not that I visit there frequently. I used to make at least three trips a year to the bookshops when I was more affluent but you get to know the regulars. Well at least I suppose I do. I was once part of that world, and there is a certain look that tells you who is operating as a team and who is making a good living at the game. To be honest no one chooses to live rough but it is seductive in its own way.

Anna was sitting in Tottenham Court Road Station at the bottom of the entrance stairs. My daughter was buying something at the kiosk so as I was about to descend the stairs I had to stop and wait. She was looking up and it was her eyes that haunted me. I had little enough money to throw away but I fished out 50 pence and then my daughter added a pound coin. Anna did not ask for the money I walked up and gave it to her. She said I will give this back if you could spare a few minutes just to talk to me.

So I found myself sitting at the bottom of the steps to Tottenham Court Road Station flanked by both my daughters while Anna talked, and the crowds rushed by curious but dismissive.

A few weeks before three drunks had thought it fun to set fire to her while she slept rough. They poured lighter fluid over her sleeping bag. It must have been a great laugh for them. She showed me the marks left on her legs, breast, arms and shoulder. They had become infected from the life she leads. The sores were huge and will scar horribly. The hospital is refusing to help her out because they said she would only re-infect them again through her life style.

She is 23 years old. It was not her choice to be where she was. Well in part, perhaps it was. Her father had abused her and then her little brother. She told her story and he went to prison for seven years. Her mother could not forgive her so at 13 years she had run away to London. She ended up in care but this did not give her enough to prepare her for living alone. She realised she had no support system like the rest of us and there was no way out. She ended up back on the streets.

A few months ago she gave birth to a daughter on the streets. To protect the child she could not properly support she had her placed into a foster care with visiting rights every month. These had now been denied to her because of the fear of infection from her wounds. She had spent the day doing the rounds of Social Services, Centre Point, the church, Citizens Advice, etc. No one had anything to offer her. The Social Services refused to set up a bed and breakfast arrangement in total. They said she would have to pay for part of it. How she was supposed to get the money they did not disclose. Perhaps they wanted her to enter prostitution. Perhaps they felt she had had enough from them already.

She was suicidal. She had thought of throwing herself in front of a bus but the burning drive within her was to find a home and have her baby back. In desperation she had lost her temper giving Social Services the opportunity to ban her. What had she left. The station would close in half an hour and she had until 1am to make £15 for a place to sleep safe. Her hands were black with the dirt from the streets and she smelt as only those that cannot wash regularly do. Her clothes were grimed and torn. Her jacket several sizes too large for her tiny frame. She looked 15 but her eyes were old and hopeless.

She told me she was not into drugs and had never drunk and I believed her. She was intelligent and analytical. I asked her name she had not said before but I felt that asking her made her feel more human. I told her mine and introduced my daughters. I could do no more. We had to catch the train for home and there was so little time. I had no real gift to offer but my time and my understanding of how it feels to be churned round by the system. All I could say was do not give up they make you feel small but you have to fight back. What use was that to someone who had had the fight kicked out of her. What use to the pain her body was experiencing from the inflamed wounds left by stupid drunks with more money than humanity.

Our society has spawned a lost generation of street people. Children damaged and bewildered in the middle of affluence. Children unable to cope, lacking the skills that we have absorbed slowly and surely through nurturing or education. Okay I do accept that many out there are doing quite nicely within their terms and a fair living can be made from begging. I know that many are supporting a drug habit and that we should not encourage the way of life they have chosen. But the others are real and for many of us it is so easy to blank out the true hopelessness of their lives.

So for Anna and her like I ask your compassion.

Truth, Lies and Internetscape

I would like to thank 4nnie71(who also appears to be ravenspirit and also some one called Lucy) and her good friend Pooh for setting up a blog site where I could obtain a copy of this statement from the Dragon that had previously been deleted from the Mediumysticss blog site for some unknown reason. Thank you so much and I am sure that Dragon appreciates all that you have done for her.

I quote "This I swear on all i hold sacred to me. You mis read what was written on a blog. Jill was challenging me to go on JK, my response was I would not have so little dignity as I considered it a bear baiting pit and I still do. Never will you find i said anything about chav's and scum. Read through jillstruth it was Raiden that said that. Max you can shout your ill informed mouth off about me all you like, but don't you dare bring my family and children into this again. You again have false information fed to you and as always as you are the weakest link they give you the bulletts and you fire them. You are a loose cannon max and they know it. My son's token prison sentence is no secret and I have never hidden it and nor has he, to put the record straight the judge at the trial said the worst he could say was he was a fool for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and there were no proceeds of crime as he had nothing to do with the dealers. As they all got 15 years and he had 7 months I think that speaks for itself. So think carefully before you libel people in public again Max. " end quote

And Now some of the Real Truth

Many years ago Dragon’s son sold his house to buy his best friend ‘S’ out of a close corner in South America. He was therefore owed quite a large financial amount in return. He received a set amount of money per week and of course his regular own use supply. I had met ‘S’ a few times at Dragon’s house and she was on very friendly terms with him and his lady friend. The real luck on the day of the raid went to Dragon’s son as he had nothing in his possession despite being the person who lived in the house for ‘S’, in order to safe guard the drugs that were kept in a locked room.

How then he managed to have nothing to do with his best friend the ‘dealer’ I am at a loss to say.

The local paper certainly gave this front page space so I doubt that Maxine was ill informed, that is of course unless the journalists were not doing their job correctly. I also feel that to state any prison sentence as a mere token is a bad reflection on some people’s attitude to crime and punishment. All prison sentences are for a good reason and that is to protect the public from those who cause harm.

I also fail to see how stating a known truth that has already been aired in the public domain sets Maxine up for a libel suit.


I quote "Also I did not make a threatening phone call to an ex friend of mine and if the police care to go and listen to it they will see that is so." end quote

No of course it was a friendly telephone call to let me know that people for some reason unknown to me, and people that I did not know had somehow conspired to spread rumours about me on the Internet.

However a few hours prior to this she had telephoned the president of the church that I am a member of and accused me of being linked to a lady called Maxine who I had only met once some eighteen months past. In this she stated that we had bandied the church’s name about on the Internet. (This I believe constitutes slander but then as our president is very ill I would not want to force her into a court situation.)

Imagine how that sounded to someone who was up and down to the local hospital undergoing tests prior to surgery. Someone who had not done anything to anyone, and who was also a pensioner. Someone who not only is suffering from a serious life threatening illness, but also high blood pressure and yes I too have been for the heart tests.

I feel that most people would think that they were being attacked and I knew that she knew I was unwell, as her sister had seen me in the hospital about a week before.

I quote "What was said as she had been a friend for more than 20 years and our children went to dancing school together, and she would spend countless hours every week in my home, I thought she should know her name was being bandied about the net and statements being made intimating they had come from her. I told her this and said I did not know if she was aware of it but in case she wasn't the police were involved. That was no threat that was a fact. " end quote

This section is really odd as when I approached the local police with a complain against her harassment they had trouble keeping a straight face and told me it was simply a civil matter and that I should just ignore her Internet ramblings. So how does she have an investigation going forward? Are there two sets of rules in this country? Am I not a pensioner in ill health too? Were the police her daughter and son-in-law who are merely army red caps or perhaps do they have friends in Acton police station? Why if she lives in Southall is Acton station involved when Southall is much larger? Perhaps I should contact my relatives in the police force regarding this.

I quote "I also at the beginning of january as I had, had enough of your lies contacted the president of SSC to confirm I had never been a member of their congregation, I had never been banned from there and also never been banned anywhere else in Middlesex and neither had any of my family. She confirmed this and has stated she will write a letter confirming it should i wish her to. So before you go listening to gossip max stop and think of peoples motives. I protected that womans back for 20 years to save her the pain of what people were saying about her. We would still be friends today if she had not come to a birthday party my daughter and son in law gave in my honour and got paraletically drunk and insulted my daughters fellow officers and friends under my daughters roof. I never argued with her my sister and I just gave her a lift home and i never spoke another word to her, i would still not have done so until she apologised to my daughter and son in law if i had not felt some compassion for those 20 years of friendship thrown away, and her name being dragged about the net. " end quote


There was nothing but her imagination to suggest that I was involved in her crusade so how nasty and spiteful to make such horrible statements. I have never wished to be involved with some of her particularly unbearable and low moral friends. (I would also like to point out that not all her friends are like that but that I knew that some were and that they delighted in such derogatory gossip.) Why would I care about the statements of evil gossipmongers and low life’s?

As to the pathetic excuse for a soiree check my previous blogs and in addition I have only a few words and these are Tesco Value Sponge.

Finally, her, and I must add badly spelled, statement was posted approximately one hour after I told her not to telephone me as I did not wish to be involved in whatever nastiness was going on and that I had sought legal advice. She then telephoned me back and tried to be really nice and supposedly caring but hey then she posted her little diatribe. What a wonderful, spiritual, person she truly is.

I had to be chauffeured to a committee meeting at my church. I had to go through the most awful nasty messages, left mostly I must add by members of her chat site, to uncover the fact that Dragon was the one who had named me and spoken out against our church. The committee also searched and found this to be true and they also found that Maxine and I had not been involved with each other but drawn into this conflict by the mind of this silly woman.

She was then sent a letter stating that they found no evidence against us and telling her not to drag our church’s name into disrepute.

My blood pressure then required complete bed rest prior to my operation and one weeks later, after even more bed rest, I finally posted a blog explaining some of her fantasies for what they were, at which she telephoned our president again to call me a drunk. (This is also slander.)

They actually had a good laugh at this, but did she stop for one moment to think that she was harassing our president who had just had surgery for breast cancer and was now undergoing radiotherapy? Not at all. No one matters apart from the Dragon.