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 |  A third blog? A good idea? A fresh start? A disaster? An omen? ...who knows anything? |
I nearly gave up on blogging and WDC. Then life threw another huge curveball and I felt like giving up on everything. But I'm Scarlett...I keep trying and hoping. I know not where this will go but I take it one day at a time.   |
| For as long as I can remember I've had a passion for stationary and craft materials. Notebooks, paper, pens, crayons, paints, wool, stamping and die cutting materials seem to accumulate at a rate I can't really justify and I know there is no chance of ever using all those things in several lifetimes never mind the short time left of this one. Time is always the biggest excuse, but I must admit these things are most pleasing in their pristine condition and sometimes it's difficult to force myself to spoil them. But the time has come as the walrus said. Over years, months, weeks and days I have attempted to declutter my home and my life as much as I can. Most things I don't have a problem handing over to charity shops or selling for a small profit, but my two weaknesses are sentimental items like letters and cards and the stationary stockpile. I have made a pact to acquire no more wool, craft materials or stationary, but to aim to use as much as I possibly can. Knitting and paper crafts can be tackled on a daily basis hopefully, but the drawer full of empty notebooks is a much bigger thing to deal with. I already keep notebooks of lists, reading, writing ideas, computer tasks, recipes, things to do etc but what to write in all these others? I so regret the diaries I threw out from my younger years. All that teenage angst and romantic drama would have made great fodder for writing. Since then my diary input has been sporadic and pretty boring and I haven't kept one recently, feeling uninspired by daily life. Amongst my empty notebooks I discovered a small journal entitled ' Hello. This is your life speaking, ' subtitled ' You have no idea what you’re doing do you?’ Correct on that one. Instead of a diary I have determined to use this book as a daily record of positive events, actions, thoughts, ideas and surprises. Complaining and negativity come easily to me, so it will take an effort to ignore lousy weather, frustrating phone calls, annoying people, unexpected disruptions and negative comments as I write on each page. But try it I will. There are always things to be grateful for. Looking for the positives, even if only small things can make a bad day better, heartache softer and improve our general outlook as we move through the days, regardless of what they throw at us. Of course I shall still complain and grumble verbally, but only Dennis will be here to witness that and he doesn’t seem to mind. Besides, he's pretty verbal himself at times and frequently sounds to be grumping about something. |
| Thirty-seven years ago today on a bright and breezy afternoon at four 'o clock my life was about to completely change. I was perfectly aware of this as it was the day I first became a married woman. I remember it all very clearly, despite feeling very nervous and a little apprehensive if I'm honest. I'd just turned thirty, which seemed old in those days to be getting hitched for the first time. My husband had been married before and at that time a second marriage could not take place in a church, so it was a simple register office wedding. I wore purple. I think back to the morning visit to the hairdressers, the favourite dinner my mother cooked for me before the event, all the wonderful family and friends who shared our day, many gone from this earth and others gone from my life for other reasons and it all seems such a short time ago. I remember writing a blog entry on our silver wedding anniversary and can hardly believe that was twelve years ago and here I am still blogging on WDC. This will be my second anniversary alone. Last year I was still in hospital, though thankfully recovering and surrounded by new friends and caring staff. My husband always presented me with red roses on our anniversary no matter what the circumstances or mood, so last year I bought some myself and everyone commented on how beautifully they opened up and the length of time they lasted, almost as if they were blessed. This year is harder. Time is a strange thing and it's not a simple matter of it being a healer as some think. The things I miss now are not what I would have predicted or expected and my life is totally different from last year as well as the thirty-five years I spent with my husband. I feel more vulnerable somehow and life problems with family, finances, formalities, health and loneliness are constant companions. Change is a given in this life and none of us know what can happen in a moment to send us reeling onto a different and often difficult path. But I have purchased my roses and arranged them carefully, hoping against hope they will flourish as last year's did. Happy Anniversary David.  I miss you more than I could ever have imagined. |
Birthdays, like all things, come and go. Some really look forward to them, some are unaware of them and some don't really want any more. So another group of family birthdays are now behind us. Dennis turned one, Dylan turned nine and I turned over in bed and tried to ignore it. This year there was no boat trip or fancy dress or crazy party, but that doesn't mean there won’t be any more in the future, God willing. I chose a quiet day with just my son and family and a meal out. This was followed the next day by two rounds of crazy golf with a group of lively nine year-olds. If I wasn't crazy before the day I’d certainly have been crazy at the end of it. Despite the quiet birthday, most days I have been surrounded by friends and family whose company I am always grateful for. I spent three days with my dearest sister, have had meals out with friends and enjoyed some quality time with special people. And ultimately people are all that matter. The downside of this is once parted from the good company the isolation, loneliness and feelings of uncertainty become very evident, but then as my dear mother used to say, you have to say goodbye to people in order to look forward to seeing them the next time. Hopefully there will be many more next times to look forward to though as usual it's one day at a time sweet Jesus. I do intend to look into cancelling any further birthdays however or finding a way to start counting backwards. Surely someone has to find a way in these times of advanced technology. |
I'm wondering if there's a name for a phobia of alarms. Before my move I wrote about a rather long winded, annoying yet comical incident with the smoke alarm at the house. Six months later I found myself confronting a similar situation in my new home. I have endured having a new bathroom and kitchen fitted by two different workmen at the same time. Anyone with any sense wouldn't have done that, but then I've never claimed to be sensible. During procedures the kitchen carbon monoxide alarm had to be removed. Upon completion, the said alarm was deemed useless and disposed of amongst the sacks of rubbish. Several days later I returned home from a day out and could hear a faint beeping noise outside which I could not locate. Thinking it was something to do with a parked car or someone's house alarm I thought no more about it. I always keep bedroom windows open and during the night I woke several times and could still hear the faint beeping. I decided next day to conduct a thorough search in order to find the irritating noise. Upon opening my dustbin the sound increased in volume and it was then I remembered the faulty alarm and realised the unpleasant task of searching the bin to find it was unavoidable. Thankfully it didn't take long to find, but it didn't matter what combination of buttons I pressed the beeping would not stop. In fact it became increasingly louder which resulted in me having to bring it into the house so as not to draw attention to it. I tried for ages to turn it off but all to no avail. At times it stopped and I'd leave it in the hope the problem was solved, but sure enough once I sighed with relief it started its wretched beeping again. No amount of brute force would prise it open to remove the batteries so in the end I had to search out my tool box and apply my engineering knowledge to shut the damn thing up. In other words I smashed it with a hammer then went in search of a waste bin as far away as possible from any housing just in case it decided to start up again. I'm reaching the point where alarm bells go off in my head every time I see or hear any kind of alarm which is quite alarming in a way. |
| Does anyone ever understand or feel at ease with this thing we call life? Things change constantly. I know that much. Nothing is guaranteed and no one can predict the future. When I started this blog over ten years ago, I could never have envisioned what lay ahead and a good job too. I could never have imagined I'd be living here, alone with a cat and a scattered family with problems I could never have predicted. But such is life. I don't regret my decision to move to a new town and am happy with my home, neighbourhood and surroundings. But nothing is ever perfect and of course there are things I miss.  I miss my church. Regular readers will know of my Spiritualist beliefs and even though you need no church to believe, I always enjoyed the light hearted services and uplifting messages I received in the little church in my old place of residence. Surprisingly there is no Spiritualist church in Newark and the closest one only holds services on Sundays which is when my son and family generally visit. I hope to be able to attend at some stage, even though it's not easy to get there. I miss my hairdresser. The salon I used in Kirkby was more like family to me, but it would be difficult for me to return there regularly. I have tried one new one here, but am not impressed. There are loads of salons to choose from, but many are far out of my price range and I could keep on trying different ones and still not find someone who could cope with my mane. Hair is in limbo. I miss my Knitters and Natters group. It was a small one, but always very relaxed and good fun. I've found one here and reserve judgement, but so far I don't feel like I fit in and am conscious there is no evident wackiness. Same with a writing group I've attended. I will be patient and hopefully find the wacky company I crave at some stage. I miss the Craft shop in Kirkby. As a town it had little to offer, but the paper crafting shop was unlike any other I've found. I can find and buy any craft materials I need here or online, but there is no place dedicated to crafting or offering workshops like the one there. I return when I can, but wish I could find something similar in this area. But ultimately all these things are trivia. Most of all I miss my husband and the life we shared, even if it was rather mundane. I think the times we spent in the USA and our holidays abroad were probably the best times of my later life and now I miss them so much it hurts. I don't think I'll ever be able to holiday alone and even if I did, memories would haunt me. Sometimes it's the small things you miss, even the irritating and annoying ones. I don't profess to have had a perfect marriage and admit there were times I resented my husband's possessiveness, insular attitude and annoying habits, but that was my life for thirty five years and adjusting isn't easy, particularly as I'm perfectly aware things aren't going to improve or get easier as I age. Losing him so suddenly, in such awful circumstances will always mar any feelings of joie de vivre and knowing the ensuing family problems would break his heart, breaks mine too. One day at a time sweet Jesus has been my motto for many years, but without my parents and my partner I confess I feel like I'm walking on a tightrope on a daily basis. Life is surreal and ever changing. I know not what the future holds, none of us do, but if I had one wish it would be for peace of mind. Anyone have the recipe? |
| The house I moved from mostly had fitted furniture, so there wasn't a lot to bring to my new abode. On top of that, due to a tricky entrance porch and no access to the back of the property or any patio windows my old three piece suite was too large and had to be left behind. Dennis and I spent several weeks fighting over one chair while we waited to select a new suite. He of course owns two cat beds, but neither of them seem to appeal to him. Typical feline behaviour. I found a suite in the right colour that would fit through the doors and in the positions I had chosen. The company I bought it from used to advertise on the television using a cute sloth called Neal as the main character. He became so popular with the public he was almost a cult figure and the company promised a replica toy Neal to every customer who purchased furniture from them. The advert hasn't been seen in a while and I'd forgotten about Neal when I ordered my suite. I was delighted when they reminded me I would receive my very own free Neal with my new suite. When it was finally delivered it was accompanied by a note explaining because Neal is a sloth he's very slow, but was on his way and would arrive at a later date. I waited and waited, but no Neal turned up. In the end I phoned the company and was assured they would send one out within twelve days. Twelve days passed and still no Neal, so I phoned again only to be told that Neal was now extinct and they were very sorry but I wouldn't be receiving one after all.  Obviously I was disappointed, but knowing some people don't like Neal or don't want one with their new suite I was aware people sell them on eBay, sometimes for quite extortionate prices. I checked and there were quite a few for sale at a reasonable price. I was going to buy one, then thought just a minute, a promise is a promise, so emailed the company and suggested they buy me one instead. I didn't think for a minute they'd agree but it was worth a try. A couple of days later a squishy parcel arrived in the post and I was delighted to find it contained a brand new Neal. There was no letter with it and the address on the envelope was handwritten, so I thought maybe one of my friends had bought it for me after I'd complained about the situation to them. I asked around, but no, it seemed Neal had arrived from the company concerned so I duly thanked them and now Neal spends his days slothing about on one of my new sofas. I don't know why, but every time I look at him it makes me think of Kåre Enga in Udon Thani    |
I'm not sure where all the days have disappeared to since my last blog entry, but mainly in a blur of phone calls, visitors and deliveries. I now have six interior doors in my porch, a cooker, fridge, microwave, cupboard doors, pelmets, tiles and miscellaneous joinery items in my lounge and a full bathroom suite behind my sofa. The kitchen is full of boxes and stacked flooring, surrounding a skeleton framework and my staircase houses a shower unit, panel, bathroom cabinet and various other sundries. I now await plumbers, joiners, electricians, fitters and a Lottery win to ensure everything ends up in the right place and this sawdust covered jumble starts to resemble a home. In truth, the reason it's taken me such a long time to post a blog entry is it's taken me until now to find the computer.  |
| In the midst of all the tragic and senseless traumas I still maintain the majority of people have good hearts and loving souls. I've made a real friend of Donna, the lady from St Louis. At 83 she's a sprightly and amazing woman. Other people in the neighbourhood seem to be friendly and often stop for a chat. I have been lucky to find such a lovely spot. But I am acutely conscious of being alone now and don't think that feeling is ever going to subside. Even my furry companion is proving to be fickle and sneaky. But then I knew when I took him on that you never own or control a cat. The other day I was out at the front of my house when the next door but one neighbour pulled up in her car, just as Dennis was entering the yard. 'Is that your cat?' she asked. Turns out he's been slipping through her cat flap, eating her cat's food, sleeping on her beds and generally acting as if he owns the place. At least she saw the funny side of it, but said she had now taped up her cat flap to keep him out. I apologised for my devious pet's behaviour, but we both know there isn't much chance of disciplining felines. She said her cat and most others are quite nervous and scuttle off when shouted at, but mine appears to be fearless. I have noticed this. There's a whole gang of cats around here and I have deduced Dennis seems to be the feline Mafia leader. He knew he'd been rumbled however and slunk inside with a guilty expression, then went off to skulk in the dog cat house.  |
For most of my adult life I've dabbled in painting even though I'm perfectly aware I'm not very good at it. Watercolours, glass painting, acrylics and oils I've tried the lot, but never in my life have I ever been involved in home painting and decorating. My husband did all that and seemed to enjoy it. I was never tempted, contemplating whether painting a wall or ceiling was any more interesting than watching paint dry. But now, in the midst of attempting to turn my new house into some sort of home and one that is aesthetically pleasing I have had to succumb to the advice to do it yourself. Not the major tasks, but the smaller areas like skirting boards and door frames. I look at my efforts and conclude like my other attempts at painting they aren't very good, but it's a case of needs must and who is going to inspect things closely anyway? The mind wanders during such underwhelming activities and I found myself thinking I'd never have predicted trying to paint interior walls and such at my age. But life is what happens while we're busy making other plans as we all know and proof there are always 'firsts' in life no matter how old we are. This set me thinking what other 'firsts' I have experienced since turning sixty and I was surprised at how long a list I compiled. I won't number them as this list goes well over my favourite number, but here are just some of the new experiences from this decade of my life. Some good, some bad, some small, some massive, some chosen and some thrust upon me, but all things new to me. Became an orphan Acquired a new scar Started geocaching Switched to a Mac computer Became a widow Met a millionaire Adopted a kitten Became a great aunt Bought a toolbox Published a book Experienced a family feud It's an interesting exercise and one I suggest you try whatever decade of your life you are presently living in. I have several years left of my present decade God willing, but won't contemplate what new things they may hold, be they good or bad. One day at a time sweet Jesus. |
| The morning after my lockout I sat thinking how kind it was of a total stranger to risk life and limb to help out a silly old woman who'd locked herself out. I decided to purchase a bottle of wine and a thank you card to take to my rescuer across the way. I knew the number of his abode and walked over the road to find his door. I discovered it was an apartment in a building with several others. I rang the appropriate bell on the outside of the building but there was no answer. I did not want to leave the bottle outside the building just in case it didn't arrive at the correct destination. I decided I'd knock on one of the neighbour's doors nearby, of which there were several. Eventually I plucked up courage and chose a random one, not having a clue who lived there. An elderly lady opened the door and after explaining my mission I asked her advice as to what to do. She informed me the main door to the building of apartments was open so I should be able to go inside and leave the bottle of wine outside the gentleman's flat. At the start of the conversation it had been obvious from the lady's accent that she did not originate from this area. Some accents I find hard to recognise, but not so an American one. I asked her how long she had lived in England and what had brought her to this part of the country. It transpired she had moved here 22 years ago with her husband after falling in love with the history and the beauty of this particular area. She lost her husband three years ago but continues to enjoy her beautiful home. I then told her the story of my family and how my dad had met my mum here during the war and how I was born in America. I cannot describe the look on her face when I told her my family came from St Louis. What are the chances of two people living in the same tiny area of a small town like this in England both originating from the same place on a continent the size of America? There is no such thing as coincidence they say. |
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) I try to dress according to the color of the day. Thursday is orange. Once I dress accordingly I only need to look at what I'm wearing to be reminded. 
