You'd think less time spent in Blogville reading and writing would mean more time for serious writing, housework or achievements of some worth. Not so in my case I'm afraid.

Halloween and Bonfire Night are done and dusted thank God, but the Humbug hype is escalating daily. The weather has deteriorated and the nights are getting darker by the day, but at least my black eye is now a mere memory.

I enjoyed a lovely lunch and drink with an old schoolfriend on Thursday and then my sister arrived, so I enjoyed a lovely dinner and drink in the same venue. We then caught the train home and enjoyed a lovely evening and drink, by which time things became a little hazy. The next two days continued in a similar vein but we enjoyed them, though I doubt our livers would agree.

Paul and family came over yesterday for dinner again. Would you believe he was involved in another road accident on Saturday? But yet again it was not his fault. The driver of the vehicle responsible drove off leaving the car he hit and the one that shunted into Paul to sort things out. Thankfully no one was hurt and the courtesy car Paul was driving suffered no damage apart from a tiny scratch.

The grandmonsters were in good form, but Mey Ling didn't feel too well so spent the afternoon asleep on the settee. We'll soon have permanent Mey Ling shaped indentations in our suite. Still no house secured, but they are looking at some more tomorrow. With under three weeks to go before they are due to move out of their present accommodation it's going to be a busy, expensive and worrying time for us all. Still, that's pretty much the way things always are these days, so I should be used to it.

I phoned the tax office about the underpayment I mentioned last entry, who then asked for the details in writing. I have now sent a letter and am awaiting the outcome. I'm hoping they will at least agree the error is not mine and therefore see it is not my responsibility to put it right. I don't expect things will go my way for one minute, but will keep fighting to the last.

My Dad has stayed upright and out of hospital for over a month, so that's almost a record for this year. Touching wood. Hubby seems to be physically recovered, but bad weather means no golf and more sport on television, so more physical injury may be on the cards. I will hide the weapons and any evidence very carefully however.

Nothing much else to report. I seem to have lost interest in a lot of things lately, even the price of carrots.
 

It is now officially November here in the U.K. Not a month I dislike apart from the bonfire night hype and increasing humbug mania. Colours and weather conditions are generally better than anticipated and I'm quite content to draw the curtains at four in the afternoon and chill out for the rest of the evening, hubby and football on TV permitting.

The black eye has gone through all its colour spectrums and I anticipate looking as human as possible by Thursday. There are reasons for this apart from meeting my sis for one of her more than welcome visits, but I'm not disclosing them here. Eat your hearts out. All may or may not be revealed, but it's nothing too scandalous I assure you.

I managed the hike last Thursday and thoroughly enjoyed it apart from the one muddy incline. I love walking, but hate slopes. I guess I'm going to have to get used to them however as I really want to join in as many walks as possible. My new walking boots are now declared comfortable and decidedly mucky.

Paul and family visited yesterday. Mey Ling resisted retiring to bed, but did lie down on the sofa as she claimed Dylan had kept her awake most of the night. Dylan didn't seem to have been affected however and was his usual lively, amusing self, although I was very careful to avoid his concrete head. They are still looking for a suitable house to move to and I hope and pray they'll find something soon.

Hubby has spent the week nursing one of his arthritic attacks which render him immobile and fit for nothing. No golf, no help in the home but he is still able to fall asleep in front of the football on TV. Hopefully things will improve in the next week or there could be a murder most horrid or a Scarlett with no hair.

The third blow did arrive, but not in the physical sense. Having reached pensionable age I've had to fill in a multitude of forms regarding finances and income. For whatever reasons and because of some neglect, I received notification my tax code has been wrongly assessed and I now need to pay back a serious amount of money. It seems I can say goodbye to any pension for at least a year.

Oh well, it's only money. But money I haven't got. I guess my path in life never intended me to be rich, lucky or blessed. But I have to ask one question.

WHY NOT?

It seems my telepathic skills and gut feelings aren't completely useless. My forecast that something untoward was imminent was nothing like I'd expected or as bad as I feared, but nevertheless it was a bumpy weekend, in more ways than one.

My son was involved in a road accident on Sunday. Fortunately, the children and Mey Ling were at a park and he'd just nipped to fetch the car to park it closer, so he was the only one inside. Fortunately too, the accident wasn't his fault and he was the third vehicle to be hit, so suffered less damage than others. Even more fortunately he was unhurt and his car is repairable. Unfortunately, the driver of the vehicle who caused the accident was uninsured, but hopefully this can be resolved without any conflict or payments from my son.

They'd been over to see us on Saturday and to all intents and purposes things are pretty much back to being reasonable. We enjoyed dinner together and helped them look for rental accommodation on the internet. However, later in the afternoon there was an incident of domestic violence.

After reading Dylan his one and only favourite story 'The three billy goats gruff' he decided to swing his head rather swiftly towards mine and somehow managed to collide with the bone around my eye. Trip trap, trip trap, bang, bang, bang indeed. After waiting for the excruciating pain to subside I noticed there'd not been a murmur from him. That kid is made of concrete I swear.

Anyway, come Sunday morning I was greeted by this awful apparition and it's got a lot worse since then, believe me.

I had a blog entry forming in my head about men and heating, but then it sort of fizzled and I couldn't be bothered.

I woke up one night with some ideas about hair and connected issues, but forgot what my brilliant thoughts were on awakening.

I contemplated waxing lyrical about my wonderful life, but I know you wouldn't believe me for a minute.

I thought about writing my schedule for NaNo, but seeing as I'm not taking part for the hundreth year in succession it seemed a waste of time,

I could write about why I feel I have nothing to write about, but I'm not writing anything much lately so there's no point writing about it.

So, what to tell you?

Erm...My virus is thankfully slowly abating, but I seem to feel permanently tired.

Erm...I'm hoping to go out with a hiking group next week, but have yet to find walking boots.

Erm...I can't find anything exciting or particularly interesting to do with my iPad. Am I missing something?

Erm...I find the news that England and Man United footballer Wayne Rooney is now reportedly earning over £200,000 a week very disconcerting.

Erm...The price of carrots, like eveything else apart from income is steadily rising.

But I've been having extremely weird and disturbing dreams and have this feeling something big, but not good is about to blow. A little to do with investigation and a lot to do with an unused, vivid imagination I suspect. I may be right or more likely may be wrong. We shall see.

But for now I'm clueless, hopeless, useless, joyless and blogless. So, forgive me if I decide not to blog.




 

It is now one hundred and forty-five hours, thirty-nine minutes and fifteen seconds since I have been outside the house or seen another human being apart from hubby and characters on the TV. I've spoken to a few people on the phone between coughing fits but am going stir crazy as all this goes against my nature.

But what can you do when a nasty virus renders you incapable of doing anything apart from blowing your nose, coughing, taking medicine and turning over in bed? I hate being ill!

It's almost two weeks since I visited my Dad and that must be a record. He's okay as far as I know, but it leaves me feeling anxious and guilty.

I spoke to my son last Monday but have heard nothing since. When we've phoned his home there is no answer so we can only assume Mey Ling is deliberately not answering the phone. I can't be doing with sullen, childish behaviour but it hurts to think I could be hospitalised or worse for all they know.

Paul did send a text however to inform us there was a programme on television tonight about the sex trade in Cambodia. It was very interesting, heartbreaking, yet deeply disturbing and leaves me wondering if we can ever fully come to terms with the enormous differences in culture between our own and Mey Ling's. There are no right or wrongs or judgmental opinions but it's so difficult to take on board the values and morals of a totally different society. I wish I could discuss such things with her, but her mindset is Cambodian through and through as far as I can see and much as I know it's important she retains her identity, I still feel she has to adapt for the sake of the children.

Maybe they'll decide to return and settle in Cambodia. Who knows? But what I've seen tonight confirms it is not a safe, healthy or desirable place to live. I can't dwell on it, but there seems to be no ideal solution. I sometimes rue the day my son decided to go travelling but what's done is done. I just want to see him settled and reasonably content and that's not something I've witnessed as yet.

But, tomorrow is another day. I think I have to make the effort to get out into the real world, go and see my Dad, breathe some fresh air and hope for the best. A case of kill or cure I think but a risk I'm prepared to take as the alternative of death by cabin fever isn't too attractive. Wish me luck.





 

The most relevant sentence from my last entry is now 'I realise I've started with a streaming cold.'

The streaming cold has turned into something a lot nastier and rendered me almost good for nothing.

The doctor at the drop in centre informed me I do not have an infection, but a virus and therefore do not need aunty biotics.

I don't think I understand that but feel too poorly to start any debates.

My instructions are to drink plenty of fluids and rest. I can manage the first but not sure the latter's a possibility.
 

I wasn't anticipating a peaceful weekend or expecting to enjoy a minute's peace, but as it is things have spiralled out of control once more and I find myself in a dark place yet again on this dreary, wet Sunday evening.

I wonder at times if I'm just a doom and gloom merchant who sees the downside of everything instead of counting the positives. I feel guilty because I seem to do nothing but complain about my lot in life and find it nigh on impossible to change the way I see things. I think I've had a pretty hard life if I'm honest and the last few years have thrown up more than the average number of stressful problems that are not only highly unusual, but are ongoing and I believe many would find very difficult to handle. I'm only human and not a particularly strong character at the best of times, but I've tried to cling onto the last knot in the rope, though it's rapidly fraying. Let me describe our weekend, then you tell me if your reaction would be the same as mine.

Paul and family arrived on Friday evening and Mey Ling went straight to the kitchen to prepare food for the buddhist festival they were attending the following day. I gritted my teeth as usual as I entertained the kids between demands for sugar, oil, help with opening cans and the chaos in my kitchen. I'm used to it in some ways by now and don't mind helping out if it means it will make life happier and easier for my son. Eventually everyone retires, the snoring starts and because there are no spare beds anywhere, I spend a fitful and uncomfortable night on the sofa.

Saturday morning Paul and Mey Ling set off, but not before we discover they are not actually spending the night at the festival, but plan on returning home so she can travel to Sheffield to go out with friends and Paul can go out in Derby with his own mates. I don't think it very fair of them to leave the children with us just so they can have a night out on the tiles, but accept things have been very stressful for them lately and maybe a fun night out and a lie in may help, so I say nothing.

Hubby takes the children with him to help his 96-year-old mother with her shopping and I dash to my 90-year-old father's house to sort things out there as best I can. We later take the kids to a park, play, feed, bathe and get them off to sleep. My stepdaughter phones to inform us her dog has died and my Dad phones in a flap because he can't get his fire to work. All in all a very tiring and stressful day with not a minute to spare for relaxation or leisurely pursuits.

We're woken early this morning by the kids, I realise I've started with a streaming cold, but it's up and into the fray regardless. It's pouring with rain,the kids are fractious and demanding, we've had no word from Derby as to when their real parents will collect them, so take them to the local playden which they love. Paul and Mey Ling turn up on our return around four this afternoon and after greeting the children agree they'll stay for dinner. The children decide they want a playdoh session. so I supervise them in the kitchen while Mey Ling catches up on her laptop.

Later they want to paint, so we traipse upstairs to fetch the materials, only to discover their mother asleep in bed. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but if someone three times my age had looked after my kids all weekend, the last thing I'd ever contemplate doing would be to sneak off for a lie down. Soft I may be and generally will avoid confrontation, but even I have my limits. I make one sarcastic remark to Paul and expect that to be that. But no...

He wakes Mey Ling, she stomps downstairs with that now familiar, sullen hard done by expression and demands they go home immediately. The kids are snatched angrily from their painting session, shouted at and end up screaming. Paul is stressed to the hilt I can tell, but not wishing to make matters worse loads up the car. Mey Ling goes away without a word of thanks or goodbye and honestly thinks she's been treated unfairly.

Paul phones later, obviously upset and attempts to explain why Mey Ling is so tired and defends her actions, while admitting he can see my point. I have no wish to make things more difficult for him and am not totally without understanding, but am not prepared to stand by and say nothing when situations arise that I feel are totally unacceptable. But it seems each time I do, I'll suffer the wrath and silent treatment from Mey Ling. This time I say so be it. What say you?

But I know I'll start questioning whether it's me who's over reacted. Honestly, how would you feel? If you'd looked after your grandkids all weekend, on top of dealing with added problems and feeling unwell, then your daughter-in-law returned and hit the sack, how would you react?




 

I was planning on going out for the day with my friend Big Pam yesterday, but had to cancel as it was our son's burpday and he wanted us to go out for a meal with the family.

I was planning on going out for the day with my friend Joy today, but have had to cancel as the hospital have suddenly decided to discharge my Dad and I need to be available for his arrival home.

I was planning on going to Newark tomorrow to see my friend Jane, but will probably have to cancel as it's Angel's burpday and they're bringing her over to open presents and stay the night.

I was planning on a quiet weekend seeing as I've not been able to see my friends, but Paul and Mey Ling are going to a buddhist festival, so we'll be entertaining the grandmonsters on Saturday and Sunday.

If anyone comes across a website called lifeswap.com please let me know.
 

Corfu is now a distant and surreal memory and apart from a few photographs and a rapidly fading tan I have little to show for the break. Being back in England is certainly a reminder life can and will continue to be problematic however.

Dad is still in hospital with a chest infection. The only place I believe he could have picked it up is during a hospital check up prior to our holiday. The moral of the story seems to be to avoid hospitals if you wish to stay well. It looks likely he'll be in for a while yet, so that means his care package will be cancelled at the end of this week and the hunt will be on to establish a new one before he can be released. The hamster wheel of my life continues to grind.

So, it’s back to hospital visits, fetching and carrying laundry, sorting out his house and all the other business I’ve become so familiar with. There are only two months of this year so far that have been hospital free and I can confirm it does little to raise dampened spirits. Particularly in light of the cold snap already reminding me of another long, hard winter ahead. But, one day at a time...

To add to our joys, it seems the landlord of the property my son is renting is splitting up with his wife and the landlady has requested the house back. They have two months to find a new abode, which is going to cause all sorts of concerns. Finances are tight, housing is ridiculously expensive and Paul needs to be close enough to his workplace to ensure he can be available for any problems which may arise with Mey Ling or the children.

The options are limited and time is short, but if we were put in a position where they had to move in with us, I think it would just about finish me off. In two months the manic season will be at its full height and I may very well end up screaming hysterically along with the rest of the nation, but for very different reasons.

I didn’t take too many photographs in Corfu, but think the one below most appropriate to match my present frame of mind.

I've been round the bend and back for years, but think I’m staying there this time.

It appears the part of the island of Corfu where we are staying probably isn’t the best spot for sightseeing. Glyfada is small beach resort with a few restaurants and little else. The only bus out goes to Corfu town and takes around forty-five minutes to arrive.

Neither is our accommodation quite up to the standard we expected. It’s a steep climb of uneven steps from the beach area and lacking in many basic facilities. However, I’m not one to normally complain as you well know.

I must admit the views from our lofty position are quite breathtaking and the sunshine a welcome break from dreary England. On our first morning here I sat on the patio soaking up the rays and listening to the sounds of the Ionian waves lapping on the golden sands, when I was interrupted from my reading by the more annoying sound of my mobile phone ringing.

It was my Dad’s carer. She informed me Dad wasn’t well and was having breathing difficulties. He didn’t want her to phone for an ambulance but had asked her to call me. Well, thank you very much. Not a lot I can do from this distance apart from return to my gibbering wreck status and wonder why my life seems to just reel from one trauma to another.

So, to cut a long story short, he’s now back in hospital, phone calls and texts to my sister for updates are now an inclusive part of my days on supposed holiday yet again and I suspect we’ll probably be returning home to hospital visiting, collecting laundry, official formalities and complications.

I wonder what the odds are of taking three separate week’s holidays in a year and your father being in hospital for all of them? About as likely as winning the Lottery I bet.

So, why don’t I ever have that sort of luck? Answers on a postcard please.