I attended a memorial service this morning dedicated to loved ones we have lost. I was there last year at the same time, yet somehow it was more painful and upsetting today. I guess as time moves on the clarity of what we miss becomes more apparent.

For the first time in my life I think I'm experiencing loneliness. It's an alien concept in a way, something I've never even contemplated before, but it pains me to admit at times I feel so alone it scares me.

I miss my Mum every day of my life, but I know I wouldn't wish her back with the problems she was experiencing and I was having to deal with. It's true time softens those last painful years and it's the good times you tend to remember and long for. I'm left with a great big hole in my heart I can't fill and too much time spent with men who cannot relate.

My Dad is not a bad man, but shows little affection or sensitivity. Much of my time is spent seeing to his needs, dealing with problems that crop up and it feels more of a duty than a loving role. I find it so hard cleaning and going about business in a house that has my mother's stamp all over it, yet my mother is no longer there. Dad doesn't talk about it and so neither do I, but still the tears roll down my face every time I go through that front door.

When my duties are done I return to my own home, where the man who claims he loves me so much is usually in a grumpy mood, has little in the way of conversation and I suspect had a sense of humour bypass at birth. He's constantly tetchy, makes me feel edgy and has no understanding of my needs. Like my Dad, he's not a totally bad man. but he cannot understand my need for space and my desire to enjoy some fun away from family responsibilities. Neither does he see how much I despise his foul language and critical comments.

Then my son and family descend. I love my son unconditionally, but the speed at which he has changed his circumstances still leaves me reeling. From bachelor boy to full blown, dysfunctional family within a matter of months is a hard thing to take on board. I try very hard, I am still prepared to accept his choices and love the grandchildren equally. I will do my best to get on with Mey Ling; I see her strengths and likeable qualities but there is always the fear of what may happen if things don't pan out. It's hard work.

I have a lot of friends, but they have their own lives and without sounding rude they aren't always on my wavelength. I have a lovely sister I truly appreciate but she lives away and I don't see her too often. My online friends have diminished somewhat, but I still appreciate their friendship a great deal. But for whatever reason, at this late stage in life I'm experiencing feelings of loneliness I've never had before and just wish there was someone I could really relate to and talk things through.

Maybe that's what my long time friend Mr/Mrs WDC Blog is here for. I think it's about four years now since I started this blogging thing. Heart on sleeve right from the start and much as things have changed a great deal from when I started, there's no place like home. All I need now are some ruby slippers, a tin man, a scarecrow and a cowardly lion and I'll go skipping down that yellow brick road to see the wizard who can give me all the answers. Well, what is life without fantasies?


 

I'm having serious relationship problems with my Wii Fit and at present we are not communicating after a serious misunderstanding.

A couple of days ago I decided to brave the Body Test, gritted my teeth and waited for the results. 'You have lost five pounds,' announced the little Wii avatar on the screen.

After I'd picked myself up off the floor I had a serious think about how this could possibly have happened. In the past even after a haircut and wearing no make up or jewellery, it has made not a jot of difference. A diet of too many chips, biscuits and cheese accompanied by plenty of booze surely couldn't justify such a dramatic weight loss.

The Wii then informed me it was worried about my health, as it seemed too much weight to shed since my last test and suggested I should maybe seek medical advice. There was only one answer then. I'd developed a deadly disease and my blogging days were numbered. Oh woe is me.

After a couple of days of worrying, burying my head in the sand and trying to convince myself maybe it's just a hormonal thing or I'm in the process of transferring into a scraggy old woman instead of a mere grumpy one, I decided to try the Body Test again.

'You have gained five pounds,' announced the Wii. The line on my weight chart went up to almost horizontal and then the Wii had the nerve to ask me what I thought I'd done wrong to gain so much weight in such a short time. My answer was something along the lines of '*&%$@?X+* stupid machine.'

So nothing lost and nothing gained, but I'll never trust an inanimate object ever again. As a punishment I'm grounding the Wii for a fortnight and refuse to go anywhere near it until it apologises for messing with my head and causing me unnecessary worry. Well, it's a good excuse anyway.
 

I'm sure most of us need and crave our personal space. To me, some time alone is as important as precious time spent with family and friends. I'm certainly not a loner, but since retiring I've realised just how much I appreciate a little time all to myself, preferably in my own surroundings. Sadly, it's a rare occasion I ever get any. Mental claustraphobia is as bad as the physical equivalent.

I may have mentioned a few (hundred) times before my hubby is not an outgoing, social animal and prefers his armchair and television to people outside of the family circle. Since we gave up work at the same time it has become a problem of ever-increasing proportions for me. He cannot understand my need to be alone and refuses to make any effort to improve the situation. Sometimes the thought I'll never spend one evening alone in my home for the rest of my days sends me into panic mode. But you know me, never one to complain.

The only respite I ever get are his intermittent rounds of golf, but as they start in the early hours of the morning and I don't, it's not the best of solutions. Besides, as winter approaches, many games are cancelled due to inclement weather. Being a fair weather golfer in England means a lot of cancellations.

No, my only escape is to go out. I take a lot of walks, visit my dad, go to the local shops and meet with friends and much as it's not ideal, it's the best on offer. Wednesday is my favourite day, when I board a train with friends for a whole day and evening in the city of Nottingham. We shop and drop, have lots of laughs then finish off with a pub meal and vino. I look forward to it.

This week the city seemed incredibly crowded and very much unlike the way we expect it to be. There were queues outside the doors of one shop holding a Penny Bazaar and bodies battling at the counter of another offering a ten per cent discount. On arrival at the town centre Market Square we were confronted by knee deep crowds awaiting the official switching on of the Humbug lights.

Turkeys, puddings, elves, crackers and fairies batted around on skateboards while Santas Ho Ho Ho'd in every shop doorway. Vulgar coloured lights assaulted our eyeballs from all angles and the scent of mulled wine and cinnamon filled the air. Carols in the right ear; Humbug Hip Hop in the left. It was all we could do to fight our way through the crowds to slump down in our favourite pub and have a good grump.

What are we coming to? It's the middle of November for God's sake. Five more weeks of this and I really may be tempted to leave the planet, if I could find a way. I know about being stuck between a rock and a hard place, trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea, but it seems I'm sandwiched between Hubby and Humbug. Something I really don't relish. Want fries with that?
 

My sister stayed over this weekend which led to two very late nights and feeling ropey. Last night I was determined to get to bed earlier, so quickly caught up with mail and WDC, then made a warm drink and signed out of everything. My last port of call most evenings is Facebook; I try not to spend too much time on the site and don't consider the activities on there my top priority. I like the idea of leaving simple messages for people, but am getting a little bogged down with everything else. I hadn't signed into Facebook for three nights, but was staggered when I did to find almost 100 requests for various things.

I'm someone who doesn't like to click on Ignore buttons or hurt anyone's feelings, but I found myself clicking on gifts for so many different activities and returning so many hearts, smiles, hugs, farkle chips and such I ended up staying up later than intended just to clear the backlog. So, for anyone here who uses Facebook and the applications involved, can I just make a request please. For the sake of my sleep, clicking finger, time and (in) sanity could you please only send the very occasional gift or request.

I appreciate friendship very much, but just don't have the time or energy to run virtual farms, zoos, cafes, towns or play never-ending games. I think Facebook has far too many activities going on now, most are counter-productive and I also am wary of the rumours of hackers on the site attempting to steal identities. So, please help me limit the time I spend on there and I will respect your wishes too. I realise it's my choice and I could simply not bother using Facebook, but would feel guilty if I thought you considered I was ignoring you. Even computers mess with our heads.

It was back to the humdrum today with sis back home , so of course the supermarket was first port of call. It's starting to get busier every week now, more frantic as those who can't wait start stocking up as if there's no tomorrow. The glittery, sparkly, tinselly aisles are expanding and it grows ever more difficult to ignore the Humbug hype. Every year sees the introduction of more and more frivolous, ridiculous, over-priced and unnecessary items for the great day. But this morning I noticed something that took the biscuit. Literally in a way.

Advent calendars for dogs and cats. Now, no one loves animals more than me and I believe their intelligence is much undervalued. But I have yet to meet a canine or feline who can quote the story of the Nativity, makes a list for Santa or gets excited at counting down the days before it can open its presents. I'm glad I have no pets any longer, although I do feed the birds every day. Maybe I need to produce advent calendars for starlings, sparrows, wood pigeons and robins. Then there's the squirrel, the fieldmouse and stoat who sometimes visit my garden. What about the worms I rescue? Do they all need one too?

So you can see how busy I might be, without the added pressures of Facebook. I guess some of you will conclude I'm just a grumpy old woman and you're probably quite correct. Bah Humbug. My first of the season might as well get earlier each year along with everything else.
 

Hot on the heels of the revelation that carrots are posing topless in local supermarkets, I've had a few surprises today. Well, surprises in my little life may not measure up to the standards of others, but overall it's been a better day than anticipated.

First of all when I crawled out of bed this morning and signed into WDC I was delighted to receive a site burpday greeting for EIGHT years of service. Where the hell did all that time go? But you know, it reminded me I still love this site for its personal touches and the comments on my last mad blog confirmed people here get me on the whole. Not so much in other places but hey ho, that's life. Maybe like mould I take time to grow on people.

Then off we went to the supermarket. The eleventh commandment - thou shalt shop on Mondays goes back even further than my WDC membership. I carefully perused all the carrots, but am relieved to report I did not come across one with no top. There were peeled ones, scrubbed ones, ones with headgear on and innocent baby ones, but thankfully not a topless one in sight. My sister obviously shops at far sleazier supermarkets than I.

It was in the supermarket I discovered Robbie Williams latest album, released today at a snip of a price. I came away clutching my hero's latest batch of songs and know it will be played continuously until I know every word. I just love the song about to be released as his latest single, but when I saw the associated video, I just about bust a gut. (My first attempt at embedding a YouTube clip - bear with me) If you have time to see it through you'll realise how much he and I have in common. Singing vegetables and carrots rule the day.

Sis and I generally have a chat on the computer on Saturday nights. Last night we’d discussed the latest departure from Strictly Come Dancing and dissected the performances on the X Factor, then concluded we were sad sods for having nothing to type about but what we’ve watched on television. I suggested we change the subject, but having little to report sis concluded we should discuss the price of carrots.

I’ve been neglecting to check up lately , but told her I would study them carefully at the supermarket on Monday. She then informed me lately she’s noticed full carrots are generally more expensive than those without tops .

Now erotic vegetables are one thing, but topless carrots exposing themselves in shops is quite another. I suggested to her we should maybe report this to the Naughty Vegetable Society. She agreed possibly it would be an idea to whisper quietly in a few cauliflower ears and I said I would perhaps leek the information to the appropriate body. We concluded we could pass a few tips to a european asparagus group, but thought it better to keep it out of the hands of the swedes.

Moving on, I enquired what she was doing to marrow and she replied she wasn’t sure courgette. I told her we’d probably turn ip at our son’s place and they’d be welcome to join us, but as she pointed out there wouldn’t be mush room for everyone.

It was then hubby noisily blew his nose and I told her he’d almost given me a celeriac while clearing his broccolis. She warned me if he keeps blowing it that hard he could avocado arrest, but as I stated only in my aubergines. Left only with the weather to discuss we concluded it had been rather chilli but peppered with some sunny intervals. By this time I thought I might artichoke and she decided she needed a pea.

It had bean an interesting chat but we decided it was thyme to go to our seed beds and sleep, if our brains would lettuce. Mine was pickled, hers was mashed and we didn’t want to end up in a stew.

So another intellectual evening bit the dust, but I’ll certainly be on the lookout for those topless carrots tomorrow. Don’t you wish your life was as exciting as mine?


 

I've not felt much like writing recently and indeed have little to write about. But I'm wondering if my head has some sort of word storage compartment in it and left unemptied, it just gets more and more cramped and confused in there. Like a water tank, left unused it seems to fill up to the brim then rapidly overflow. And just like a water tank it chooses the most inconvenient times to spill over.

I was out all day yesterday, tired and a little overwrought by late evening and perfectly aware I needed a good night's sleep. I tried tossing and turning for around half an hour next to the fifty-six piece brass band in the other half of the bed, but all to no avail. Reluctantly I moved to the spare bedroom.

My neck was aching, my heart rate too rapid, but I attempted to relax. I became aware my brain was thinking about my Mum, as it does at least once an hour, but I didn't want to become upset, so tried to empty my thoughts. That's when the songs kicked in but this time, nothing from the charts or my favourites. Having looked after the grandmonsters all last weekend renditions of 'If you're happy and you know it,' 'Heads, shoulders, knees and toes,' and 'Daddy's taking us to the zoo tomorrow,' rattled round my bonce.

I turned over, tried again then realised my thoughts had wandered to my son and his family and I relived the whole bizarre event all over again. Concerns will never completely disappear but I can't allow it to eat away at me. I visited the loo, climbed back in bed and tried once more.

Minutes or even hours passed. I became conscious I'd been thinking about all my family and friends from the past, boyfriends I did and didn't make a mistake with, wondering what they're all doing now and pondering why some are no longer on the mortal coil. Then I started wondering why I still am, how long I have left, what it's all about Alfie and why the hell I couldn't sleep.

Next, I was back at work, thinking about days in the classroom, people I worked with, kids I taught, some no longer here and the traumas leading up to my leaving. Problems since retiring buzzed through my brain at a rapid rate of knots and I realised sleep was not an option, no matter how tired I felt.

I got up, made a warm drink and finished reading a book. Rather an unsatisfactory ending, but then much in life is n'est pas? I started reading a new novel, then realised if I went back to bed with two novel plots bombarding my weary brain cell I'd probably never sleep. The brass bands had started a new concerto at an even higher level of volume, so I crawled back into my single bed and suddenly felt so alone.

Over the next hour or so I think I mentally relived my whole life. The highs, but mostly the lows. The good times, but mostly the bad. The successes, but mostly the failures. The choices, but mostly the regrets. It's a good job it's not been a really eventful life or I'd probably still be there now. I hate my negativity but don't seem to have any control over what thoughts invade my weary head in the wee small hours. Maybe it's just S.A.D. Been there before and with luck will be again.

Strangely enough I didn't feel too bad this morning and have been more energetic today than of late. But I am really tired again now, so maybe now I've emptied the word tank a little I'll be able to sleep better tonight. If I could channel all the jumbled, chaotic and confusing words that invade my head in the sleepless hours I'd manage a NaNo every month of the year. But maybe it's a good job I can't as they'd make crap novels.