Not Dead

Hey, look, I’m not dead!

I just felt like I was dead for the best part of a month. It is my own fault for teaching the children to share.

I got the bug, I got all the different symptoms and I got it hard. Combine that with what I lovingly refer to as ‘all my pre-existing shite’ and I haven’t really been sharing the same planet as everybody else and even something as simple as throwing some words together and hitting ‘publish’ has been too much to contemplate at the end of the day.

Good news is that I am over most of the bug now and while the ‘pre-existing shite’ is having a bit of a party having gained my hard defended higher ground I shall be seeing the aptly named ‘pain team’ just as soon as I get to the head of the lovely waiting list and we can then hopefully tweak some of my medication, maybe throw in some more physio therapy and regain the upper hand. Until then I am just a bit slower, more tired, dealing with more pain and just ever so slightly off the ball. Try and stick with me as I build myself back up again terminator style.


Pictured: Mad Cat playing Rambo up a tree because… cat

So what else has been going on, well lets see, my laptop hard drive felt a bit like I did and gave up so the laptop went for a holiday to the sick Mac hospital but has come back strong post transplant. The children have kept me ever amused with gems like when the girl exclaimed while playing a game ‘Oh, maybe I am not as good as I thought I was!’ and when the boy pitched a 10 minute fit about the location of his other shoe only to find it on his foot. The banned topic has also kept me busy banging my head against brick walls so thats been fun.

Time now to move onward and upward. We find ourselves just a week away from yet another school holiday and another daily holiday diary. I am throwing a curveball on this one by actually taking the children on holiday! We have to be out of the home while we have a new bathroom fitted to replace the one that was badly installed when the house was built in the early 80’s. For a moment I will put aside the terrible drainage, poor workmanship and lack of shower to say the most offensive thing that I will be glad to see the back of it the fact the sorry mess of a bathroom is peach in colour and more 80’s than shoulder pads.

So on the 16th The girl, The boy and myself shall take Bob on his first trip north as we head off first to Liverpool and then the following weekend Greater Manchester. For our time in Liverpool we are booked in for some solid Grandma time but if anybody in the geographical area wants to get together and be bored senseless by me and or the boy and girl please, let me know, I am needy and would love to see anyone who is willing to put up with me. If anybody is up for a grown up evening for one week only I could even get a babysitter or you could join Grandma and me for a night in. I’m deprived (also depraved) needy and willing!

On that sad, sad note I will sign off with the hope I will write again before the holiday diary starts because so far my blog plans for the year haven’t got off to the best of starts!


Don’t call the doctor

The Doctor failed to come through on the lone of the Tardis. Selfish git.

I decided in fine fashion that if I was not going get everything done I would instead get next to nothing done and promptly gave myself the day off. I said ‘ahhhh’ and skipped home from the school drop off feeling light as a feather. Walking away from school on the first day of term is quite a glorious feeling and the rejuvenating properties of this experience should not be overlooked. Unfortunately they get very tetchy if you fail to return at 3.15pm to pick the little blighters up but I recommend that rather than dwelling on this you should rather focus on the fact you get to drop them off again the next morning.

Tomorrows joy shall be blighted slightly by having to haul myself up to the hospital in the morning for the biannual ritual of having doctors look deeply into my eyes, shake their heads and suck air through their teeth just like a plumber about to give a quote. Again I look on the bright side, a good couple of hours to sit and read my rather neglected book guilt free, as long as they don’t decide they need to dilate my eyes and spoil my fun. It is remarkably hard to read with pupils that resemble daft cat when he gets into one of ‘those’ moods and any movement at all triggers a flying ginger ball of claws and teeth that attaches it’s self to any uncovered flesh and is only sated once it has tasted blood. Caution should be used however about being too forthright about this wanton sabotage of reading time.


Pictured: Eye hospital complaints procedure

I hope to get onto delivering the next and overdue part of the ‘Mothering the Apocalypse’ series over the next day or so eye sight and laziness permitting. I think there is a good 2 – 4 more parts in that one left to tell. Then there is also my reckless decision to kick off a new fiction series that I must address, there are 2 more parts of ‘The Holiday’ and they will come along as soon as my crippling procrastination allows.

My hope is to get the blog on something resembling a schedule with one fiction piece coming out on a set day each week. Even though the daily posting of the holiday diary has at times been exhausting I have found that overall I quite enjoyed knowing I needed to produce something every day and this evening I sat down thinking ‘At least I don’t have to blog’ but it didn’t take long before the fingers started to twitch and for better or worse here we are. So I am setting myself a loose goal to be getting something up 6 days as week.

Please let me know what you think in regard to the posting frequency and content, it can be quite nerve wracking working in a vacuum and trying to judge the balance between fiction and horror life. I am as always keen to hear what you think, what you like and what you would like to change. You are also welcome to tell me that I am hopelessly deluded and self centred (unless you are the bitch), all feedback is good (unless you are the bitch)!

School night

Day 17

Sorry. skipped a day. I did it just to keep you on your toes or because I took a last moment holiday, got bored of relaxing in the warm winter sun and came back after only 24 hours or because I had spent the day mainly in mud and was tired. You choose.

Back to school tomorrow. Am I ready? Well, I may just flee the country abandoning the children to the care of the first pack of wolves I can find (a slightly grumpy dog would do) just to get a moment of peace if they didn’t go back to school tomorrow so in that sense, yes, so ready for them to go back but am I ready as in school bags located and packed, everything labeled and P.E kits replenished then no, don’t be silly, of cause I am not.

The children seem in a similar state of high excitement about returning to school. It seems they share my feelings about enforced long periods of ‘togetherness’. The girl was jumping around the place in glee about the promise of school and the boy was just as joyful about giving his new pencil case it’s first run. He was a little more reserved about leaving his baby though. The much anticipated Furby that landed on Christmas day has had the boy fretful each time he leaves it in my ‘care’. He checks I know all the details of the care it required before he goes anywhere, the last thing he is thinking of as we say our goodbyes is that I know how to get it off to sleep and will feed it. He even refers to me as its Grandma. As a result I spent well over an hour last night tending to every whim it had as well as keeping it fed and bathed. Not quite sure how this gels with my New Years promise to be more social in my childless time.


Pictured: Uncanny family resemblance

I am going to have to hit the Doctor up for a loan of the Tardis if I am to have a hope to do all the things I have in mind to get done tomorrow. My list just keeps getting longer every time I think of a task that has either been halted or put off due to the children being off school and the new beds, lord, don’t want to think of the beds.


Pictured: Not thinking about beds.

Better late

Day 13

So yesterday, when I said I would double post today and fill in on the events of yesterday properly… well, I have slept since then and I have lost all the little details and my brain has reordered little more than was in the placeholder so, I shall leave to all to wonder for ever more. If you want to, you don’t have to or anything, feel free to never think of it again. As you were.

Onto today, the last day of a long, long year that seems to have only begun a week or so ago, it is a wonderful paradox that we all know so well. A year can be so full of so much both good and bad yet over in a flash. This is the way our brains save us from ourselves. I really hope it is most people and not just me otherwise you, my reader, are going to find me even more odd than you do all ready and I am going to have to admit that my life is a never ending chain of denial. I beg of you to just humour me.

First job of the day was to be very grateful for the friend who gave me and the children a lift to go and pick up my keys and Bob from the impromptu cinema sleep (park?) over. When we arrived at Bob we had some news for him. Within the flurry of slightly desperate text messages tinged with shame that followed the realisation of lost keys that enquired if a spare key for Bob was something that was in this realm of existence came the news that our fostering of Bob had been approved for a move to permanence, Bob shall be officially adopted into the family within the next few weeks. This approval may have simply been away to avoid having slightly crazed texts from a mad woman wittering on about keys and a mix up due to the odd reference to orphan Annie. Who knows, who cares, Bob is home.

Today was also the day of my Christmas dinner. I didn’t get one on Christmas day as the Christmas ready meals for one where all sold out and although I had a lovely roast dinner with the Bitch and Progeny on Boxing day a Christmas meal with the Boy and Girl was something the three of us wanted to share. Well they begged for ‘A Mummy roast’ and who could turn down that kind of charm (it is also possible that they asked to roast Mummy, I will just gloss over that possibility). So a week late but who is counting, the three of us sat down to eat far too much food on one plate and watch the Christmas Dr Who special. We had a cracking argument about crackers while our food sat cooling on plates in front of us so it was defiantly and without doubt a Christmas dinner. We scared the life out of daft cat by pulling said crackers and he retaliated by jumping into the Christmas tree and then setting upon LooBoo the Furby (Furby and cat have been engaged in a stand off worthy of a weston movie since the Furby landed on Christmas morning). Defiantly Christmas. The children then made it their life work to give me a headache bigger than my laundry pile until I sent them to bed at the first possibly opportunity. Defiantly Christmas.

So now I have the children tucked in upstairs, daft cat is just about ready to start talks on the level of compensation he requires for his trauma and I am ready to face the new year (or go to bed because I am old, broken and very sleepy). I don’t do new years resolutions. They often seem so definitive and rigid that it is only a matter of time until they are broken. In place of resolutions I do new years promises.

They are often broad and open to interpretation (got to love a good get out plan). I can not know where this next year may lead me or what kind of obstacles I may face so I like to give myself some options and hope for the best. This time last year for example I would not have predicted that by the end of the year I would be a single parent facing a very different type of future and if I have made a new years resolution to stop smoking you can be sure I never would have done so (because I am a contrary cow and happy to fight myself tooth and nail) but my not putting that kind of pressure upon myself I stopped smoking cigarettes in June (surprising myself more than anyone else I think).

So for 2015, what are my new years promises? I hope to remember to think of myself more, to remember that I matter. That I need things for myself and in doing so I am better for my children. I have been building this year on year for some time now and I am really starting to see results in the way I feel about myself and the way I am viewing my life as a separate yet harmonious entity from the lives of my children. I promise to work very, very hard at building my business, to gently push at my physical capabilities in order to earn the best living I can for my children and myself (I haven’t forgotten about the promise of a more detailed post on this subject). I promise to try and be just a little more social, to say yes a little more and use my new found ‘childfree’ evenings to best effect. Finally I promise to continue to champion my children’s needs. To make sure the boy is getting every bit of help and support he requires to allow him to access his education and the wider world to the same level as any other child of his age. To nurture the girls interests and talents, to find every way I can to help her get over her own hurdles. To help her find her way as she leaves young childhood and starts on the difficult road to puberty and all that brings. I guess it comes down to me simply promising to be the best Mum I can be to each of them on any given day. I am far from perfect and I will get it wrong but I hope we can learn from those times and above all have fun and love each other.

Urgh. That was entirely to soppy and ‘lifestyle’ Mummy. I promise I won’t be so vomit inducing for another year, hows that?

Happy new year!


My name is Castiel Whats His Name Albatross The Third and…

I am Cat.

I am the apex predator.

I eat mice in two simple bites.

I disembowel rabbits just for the kicks.

I am stealth, the ninja in the mist hedge.

I growl at colourful explosions in the night.

Fear Feed me as I am king of all that I see.

Let us just pretend that you never saw this okay?

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