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.
Thursday 26 March 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday 25 March 2009
“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.
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.
Tuesday 24 March 2009
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
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
Sunday 22 March 2009
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
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
Wednesday 18 March 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday 17 March 2009
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
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
Saturday 14 March 2009
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.
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.
Friday 13 March 2009
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.
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.
Thursday 12 March 2009
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
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
Wednesday 11 March 2009
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.
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.
Monday 9 March 2009
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.
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.
Saturday 7 March 2009
Celebration Time
I will not be putting in a full blog today as we are off to a birthday party. Middle daughter is celebrating and my first son and his lovely partner will be hosting the festivities. My daughter-in-law is a brilliant cook so we will be having Thai curries and one of her famous chocolate and cherry cakes to finish. Sadly there will be no Tesco Value Sponges in sight.
I will be thinking of you all particularly John who cannot stop laughing x
Unicorn
I will be thinking of you all particularly John who cannot stop laughing x
Unicorn
Thursday 5 March 2009
Syon Christmas
Blue.
Bamboo and clatter.
Listen and response.
David Pen is poised.
Words on a page.
Plaster roses between the fruit.
Redwine and synthetic sweetcorn.
Honi Soit.
Cream gateau with coffee
Impressions paint a picture
Christmas Syon
Sunday November 6th in anticipation of a report on a lump in my breast, I sat and had lunch at Syon House cafe. It is a little more upmarket than an ordinary café as it is part of a stately home that prides itself on its Christmas displays and also its arts and crafts fairs. They had kites in the Christmas display hall and I wanted so much to see my friend David and invite him to have tea with me there. Kites were a special delight to him and he really loved the film Mary Poppins. I always found that a strange choice but I can see now, in retrospect, that he was rather a Mary Poppins figure. I wrote this piece whilst waiting for my meal to arrive. I remember everything seemed so surreal and somehow larger than life. On the 7th November David killed himself. He was just twenty-three. On the 8th they told me I had nothing to worry about.
Today would have been his birthday.
Bamboo and clatter.
Listen and response.
David Pen is poised.
Words on a page.
Plaster roses between the fruit.
Redwine and synthetic sweetcorn.
Honi Soit.
Cream gateau with coffee
Impressions paint a picture
Christmas Syon
Sunday November 6th in anticipation of a report on a lump in my breast, I sat and had lunch at Syon House cafe. It is a little more upmarket than an ordinary café as it is part of a stately home that prides itself on its Christmas displays and also its arts and crafts fairs. They had kites in the Christmas display hall and I wanted so much to see my friend David and invite him to have tea with me there. Kites were a special delight to him and he really loved the film Mary Poppins. I always found that a strange choice but I can see now, in retrospect, that he was rather a Mary Poppins figure. I wrote this piece whilst waiting for my meal to arrive. I remember everything seemed so surreal and somehow larger than life. On the 7th November David killed himself. He was just twenty-three. On the 8th they told me I had nothing to worry about.
Today would have been his birthday.
Sunday 1 March 2009
Tales of Christmas Past: or How I learned the Graceful Art of Plaster boarding
When we moved back into what once was my ancestral home it was in rather a state. I will not bore you with the details here, but we needed to do extensive work to make it livable. This became a living work in progress and even today I have not finished the plastering. (I sort of ran out of energy somewhere along the line) One of the places in need of some tlc was the bathroom but as funds were low at that point I held off. The original tenant had broken the toilet. (He did weigh around thirty stone). This he had replaced but the down pipe from the cistern was cut just a little too short. The damage from the original downpour showed on the kitchen ceiling and I had spent many a happy hour trying to white wash it out.
Christmas for my remaining, home festering offspring was and still is a big production. The middle daughter and the youngest were with me at the time and we were expecting the eldest son to stay over the festivities. Middle daughter started the process of on the first of December with dispatching me to the attic for retrieval of the decorations. She then hung them and whilst the youngest assembled the tree and they both argued over what should go where I began the food lists. Lights are very important to Middle daughter so these were hung outside via a series of extensions. I used my power saw to cut a wedge for cable to run out of the front door surround and this was all gaffer taped. Then Middle daughter checked the rest of the road to see if anyone had put their decorations up before her. (She gets rather aggressive around this time of year and I have noted that the number of outside lights has increased. I did draw the line at the herd of deer lights as I foresaw them being the target of revelers on their way home form the local public house.) (In fact they did mistake our outside stick lights one year for stand alones and ripped one off its wiring.)
This was in the happy days before youngest daughter became a vegetarian and everybody ate the same food. In general there were so many arguments over what to serve for the main dinner that we had compromised on a turkey (enough for two days) a small piece of beef and a large piece of boiled bacon (two days and breakfasts) We have a large freezer so items were purchased as and when bargains occurred and stored ready.
The kitchen had limited work surfaces as this was prior to my carpentry extravaganza and we also had limited storage capacity. The boiling bacon was no problem as I defrost it and cook it on Christmas Eve, the turkey on the other hand needs about forty-eight hours so this was moved from pillar to post as meals had to be cooked and mince pies made. Did I mention I have cats? They are quite excitable at this time of year too.
It was the night before Christmas. The turkey was now in the cooled oven for safety and the boiled bacon was cooling down in the microwave. I removed the beef from the freezer and placed it next to the microwave on the top of the freezer. Guests arrived and glasses of wine were poured. I knew that I had to somehow fit the beef into the microwave and move the cooled bacon to the fridge but memory gets a little fuzzy when you are chatting and laughing. It had been a long day and I retired to my bed.
Christmas morning dawned and as it is my second childhood I bounced out of bed around dawn. I walked into the kitchen. Sometime during the night the down pipe from the cistern had come loose and water was covering a large part of the kitchen floor, together with half the ceiling. I stood in shock. Then I noticed that the beef had vanished. There were two alternatives. a) Burst into tears or b) go into hysterics. I chose to burst out laughing (I must speak to my psychiatrist regarding my reactions),
It did not take too long to clean out the kitchen and make a cup of tea. I finally traced ninety percent of the beef under the dining room table. I rinsed it and cut away the fang marks. It cooked quite well considering its adventure.
These days I have other means of protecting the Christmas fare. A neighbour had bought a rabbit hutch and now wanted to get rid of it. It was unused and quite attractive, but best of all free. It acts as a stand for our barbeque in the summer and in winter as a cold store for turkey and beef. The real pleasure is that the cats cannot get into it. It drives them mad.
Christmas for my remaining, home festering offspring was and still is a big production. The middle daughter and the youngest were with me at the time and we were expecting the eldest son to stay over the festivities. Middle daughter started the process of on the first of December with dispatching me to the attic for retrieval of the decorations. She then hung them and whilst the youngest assembled the tree and they both argued over what should go where I began the food lists. Lights are very important to Middle daughter so these were hung outside via a series of extensions. I used my power saw to cut a wedge for cable to run out of the front door surround and this was all gaffer taped. Then Middle daughter checked the rest of the road to see if anyone had put their decorations up before her. (She gets rather aggressive around this time of year and I have noted that the number of outside lights has increased. I did draw the line at the herd of deer lights as I foresaw them being the target of revelers on their way home form the local public house.) (In fact they did mistake our outside stick lights one year for stand alones and ripped one off its wiring.)
This was in the happy days before youngest daughter became a vegetarian and everybody ate the same food. In general there were so many arguments over what to serve for the main dinner that we had compromised on a turkey (enough for two days) a small piece of beef and a large piece of boiled bacon (two days and breakfasts) We have a large freezer so items were purchased as and when bargains occurred and stored ready.
The kitchen had limited work surfaces as this was prior to my carpentry extravaganza and we also had limited storage capacity. The boiling bacon was no problem as I defrost it and cook it on Christmas Eve, the turkey on the other hand needs about forty-eight hours so this was moved from pillar to post as meals had to be cooked and mince pies made. Did I mention I have cats? They are quite excitable at this time of year too.
It was the night before Christmas. The turkey was now in the cooled oven for safety and the boiled bacon was cooling down in the microwave. I removed the beef from the freezer and placed it next to the microwave on the top of the freezer. Guests arrived and glasses of wine were poured. I knew that I had to somehow fit the beef into the microwave and move the cooled bacon to the fridge but memory gets a little fuzzy when you are chatting and laughing. It had been a long day and I retired to my bed.
Christmas morning dawned and as it is my second childhood I bounced out of bed around dawn. I walked into the kitchen. Sometime during the night the down pipe from the cistern had come loose and water was covering a large part of the kitchen floor, together with half the ceiling. I stood in shock. Then I noticed that the beef had vanished. There were two alternatives. a) Burst into tears or b) go into hysterics. I chose to burst out laughing (I must speak to my psychiatrist regarding my reactions),
It did not take too long to clean out the kitchen and make a cup of tea. I finally traced ninety percent of the beef under the dining room table. I rinsed it and cut away the fang marks. It cooked quite well considering its adventure.
These days I have other means of protecting the Christmas fare. A neighbour had bought a rabbit hutch and now wanted to get rid of it. It was unused and quite attractive, but best of all free. It acts as a stand for our barbeque in the summer and in winter as a cold store for turkey and beef. The real pleasure is that the cats cannot get into it. It drives them mad.
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