What a difference a year can make

I looked up my blogging account today, and was surprised that it's almost a year since my last post. What a difference a year can make, so many things have changed in such a short space of time and not just in my life, in those around me. Some are happy changes, some are not but all of them have had a huge impact on me and the people in my life.

I've neglected blogging duties and now I'm back tip tapping I've got to admit I've missed it. I started this blog as a way to get my writing out there. Now I have a feeling it's going to be more therapeutic rather than creative. That said, I'll give it my best shot to keep it light and upbeat.

So, what's happened in the last twelve months, well I haven't got time to put it all in one blog so I'll start off being a little self indulgent and talk about myself!

My health has taken a turn for the worse, after being born with a genetic condition I was finally diagnosed as a teenager. The condition presents problems in my kidneys and after spending much of my teenage years in and out of hospital having numerous procedures and surgeries I wound up having one of my kidneys removed in 2005. Following that I did have a couple of years where my health stabilised, I still had bouts of severe flair ups and I'd learnt to live with the constant pain. Throughout my life I've always been able to hold down a job, and enjoyed the freedom from my condition that working gave me. Last year things began to deteriorate, I tried to keep going but the flair ups were becoming more frequent, I was permanently exhausted and after several months of running myself into the ground I was forced into making a decison.

My doctor discussed things with me and made me see that working was just not an option, I was putting pressure on my body that it just couldn't take. I handed in my notice toward the end of last year, and if I'm honest I had mixed feelings about it. I was devastated in one respect, it was almost like I was giving in to the disease, it had finally won and I was admitting defeat. On the other hand, I was relieved, I knew my condition was worsening and by resigning I was taking the pressure off myself.

So, I've joined the world of being unemployed, officially declared unfit for work. Another statistic in the government figures. I've got to say after never being in this situation before that it's not a bed of roses. The system which is put in place to help people in my predicament is flawed, and I can understand the hopelessness people feel. There has been several documentaries on TV recently about the world of unemployment, so it got me thinking whether I'd rate the experiences I've had as positive. I can only speak from my personal view point, and I've got to say most of the people I've spoken to or dealt with have been very helpful and supportive. However, the system itself is complicated and complex, this makes the process of getting what you are entitled to stressful and difficult. The forms are repetitive and often the format means that you are answering the same question over and over again. I've never really been involved in the benefit system, but the more I find myself immersed in it, the more I empathise with others going through a similar process. I'd never really had an opinion about sickness benefit or those claiming it, I was thankful before that I wasn't in that position. Now, I hear about forms being lost, doctors making up replies and inaccurate reports and it's making me nervous. I already feel like I've had quite a few obstacles put in my path and I'm dreading the upcoming months.

Most days my health has me tormented, I take tablets constantly just to get through the day, I can barely muster the energy to get out of bed. I dread the post man arriving with yet another form, or a letter informing me of yet another delay. There must be people who are much worse off than me and I can't imagine their despair when another brown envelope drops on the mat. Even when you telephone for help or information, often you can be on the phone for up to an hour just waiting to get through.

So if I've ever thought that claiming any kind of benefit was easy, or a kop out - I was very much mistaken. In order to receive what the government says you are entitled to, you must first go through this ordeal. However, that said there are people out there who can help with advice and support. I've found help via the local welfare rights office, most council's have their own. Their advice is free and impartial. Also the disability helplines have been a great source of strength and some days just someone to talk to. Don't suffer in silence, if you are struggling with the system, there is help out there.

Like I said, I'm not intending to moan in every blog, but even typing this has helped. Another day, another story and I may even get my sense of humour back!

Look at me now!

Why is it you always bump into someone you didn't want to when you look like a pile of crap? Guaranteed, they will look fabulous, have their fabulous partner/friend with them and gush all over you in between telling you how fabulous their life is. This is a phenomenon known as "Shit On Me" and seems to follow a selection of unfortunate people (like me) around. It first happened when I was in my late teens, I was returning home after crashing on my friends sofa after a particularly heavy night out clubbing. I'm walking home in last night's clothes, believe me Lycra does crease in ways you can't imagine. My make up has spent the night slithering off my face and is now streaked down my cheeks. I have Alice Cooper eyes and the can of hairspray I used making my hair look fabulous 12 hrs before has turned to snow like flakes and is literally blowing out of my hair as I'm walking. I look like I'm fighting my way through a blizzard which is probably why I didn't notice the school bitch walking toward me. Before I can re-focus my sight and scuttle across the road she's already seen me. And not satisfied that she's observed me looking like some tramp she instigates a conversation. While looking fabulously fresh with glowing (or gloating) cheeks she begins interrogating me. With dry mouth, bloodshot eyes, feet that are cut to ribbons from the shoes I have danced the night away in I try to brazen it out. It didn't work. I knew she was loving every minute.
That wasn't exactly an isolated incident either, oh no. Over the years I have bumped into a whole array of people that I just didn't want to. Always when I look like crap and they look great. Ex-boyfriends are usually the worst, you always want them to see you looking fantastic, so you can tell them how successful your life has been since they weren't in it. Instead you bump into them at the petrol station or in the supermarket when you've only ran in for a loaf of bread, wearing your biggest most unflattering jumper, your oldest trainers, and jogging bottoms that are fraying at the crotch. They, on the other hand are shopping for a romantic dinner (you only know this because they take great pleasure in telling you). And the tall, skinny woman with glossy hair and her arms wrapped round his waist is a bit of a give away.
I've even tried to become pro-active in this. I've taken time to get myself all glammed up, walked out of the house feeling great and deliberately wandered around places I thought I may bump into someone I normally didn't want to. Did I bump into anyone? No, of course I didn't. I didn't see a single person who I would want to see me looking effortlessly gorgeous and successful. After my sixteenth lap of the supermarket I was attracting attention from the security guards and had to leave. So you see, I'm not destined to have "look at me now" moments unless it's immediately followed by "I look like shit"!

Too many choices

I was brought up in quite a large family, I had three younger siblings and parents who would probably be considered quite strict in today's society. We had six basic rules of play. 1. Learn to share (toys, food and hand me down clothes were the main contenders). 2. Read body language (my dad very rarely raised his voice, but one look would give you clear direction as to where you were going wrong). 3. Eat what you were given without complaining (no flexibility on this one, no eating dinner, no eating dessert - or anything else until the following day). 4. Always use your manners, wherever you were and whoever you spoke to. 5. Behave respectfully, particularly when visiting other people's homes. 6. Always look people in the eye. (My dad was of the opinion that if you didn't look people in the eye you were hiding something).



I don't feel that these rules were exceptionally harsh, they were there for a reason and I believe we grew up all the better for them. I try to use similar rules for my own daughter (well, apart from the if looks could kill one, my dad did have the advantage of looking like he was about to turn into the hulk. Which kind of gave us a head start. Unfortunately, despite my gallant efforts and hours of practising in the mirror, the only two faces I've managed to achieve are the one where I look like I'm about to sneeze or the one where I cross my eyes. Neither of them very scary so I've abandoned that one altogether.



Maybe I've been running into lots of parents who don't employ basic house rules, but it does seem to me that children are becoming fussier, less polite (sometimes downright rude) and more demanding. It did get me wondering who made them like that in the first place. I know I wouldn't have dreamt of, firstly refusing to eat what my mother had made for dinner, secondly bawling and shouting until I was given something else. A friend of mine used to ask her toddler every evening what he would like for dinner. He would inevitably ask for the same thing every time and when she then tried to introduce something new he would throw a wobbler. We never had those choices when I was a child. Are we giving our children too many choices? Perhaps that's where the problem lies - perhaps we are overwhelming them with choice.



Manners also seem to be a thing of the past, please and thank you's are a rarity from adults these days, never mind children. If parents don't teach their children that manners are a fundamental part of communication we will we be in ten years time? My daughter recently had a friend over to play. Call me old fashioned but I was shocked when I found this child helping herself to food in my cupboards and fridge. Don't get me wrong I have no problem with children asking for things (as long as there is a please) but to just take it upon herself to take whatever she fancied took me by surprise. I've always gone by the rule that no child is allowed to take food without asking first.



I may be getting old, I may be getting grouchy, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Children respond positively to rules. It seems to me that the children of today have more to say and choose from than ever before. Some would say that's a good thing. I'm not so sure, I think boundaries are good for children. How will they know when they've crossed the line if the line wasn't made clear, or they didn't know there was a line in the first place?

Easy Street

Is it me or do the men just seem to get an unbelieveably easy deal? Returning home after work one day, I found my other half asleep on the sofa, legs hanging over the arm, cushions all bent and squashed. The noise of my arrival barely disturbing his obviously blissful sleep. Looking around, I could see everything exactly as I left it. This man had spent the entire day doing absolutely nothing. The bed hadn't been made (despite him being the last one out of it), his breakfast and lunch dishes were left in the sink with the remnants cementing on the plates. The butter was out on the worktop, along with the milk and the jam. Our neighbours probably thought we'd had a death in the family, what with all the curtains having remained closed for most of the day. When I enquired (through gritted teeth) what he had been doing all day he informed me, cheerfully that he had done nothing as "it's my day off". I could have launched him through the cloaked windows of my messy house! I fought with myself in a bid to keep calm and asked if he knew when my day off was. He gave me a look that said oh crap I've done it now. Taking this opportunity to exercise my vocal chords I answered my own question with "NEVER". My days off departed as quickly as my youth the moment I became a mother. Apparently though, I could have a day off whenever I like. When asked who would do my jobs whilst I'm enjoying day off I get the blank look again. Oh, so you're not offering to help out so that I can actually benefit from the day off then? No, it seems that the only suggestion coming my way is "Leave it" and seemingly do it tomorrow when you have twice as much to do, in twice as less time! Of course, I don't expect these mere mortals to perfect, but sometimes, just sometimes it would be nice to know that when you come home they have had the forethought to make the bed, pick up their dirty clothes, wash their own dishes and I know it's pushing the boat out - but shock, horror ...put a casserole in the oven! I live in hope and a bit of desperation!

Three Men and A Dressing Gown

I got to thinking that it's almost a year since my last birthday. The time has just flown and I now realise that I'm getting older because I'm saying things like the time has flown! My mother told me that would happen, I never believed her - now I sound just like her.

Anyway, it made me think about my last birthday and what an interesting night it turned out to be. The man in my life had planned a surprise party, invited my friends and family to a celebration at a lovely restaurant. Some of our friends had travelled up from the south and our neighbour and friend had offered to put them up in his house as we didn't have enough room. Our neighbour was a lovely man, he was a good friend of ours and of course he'd been invited to join in the celebrations. He wasn't able to make it as he'd made plans to go out with a lady he'd recently starting dating. These opportnities didn't come around very often, he was a really shy man, female company tended to unnerve him so we were pleased that he was out having fun. Alas later in the evening we heard that his date had gone wrong and he had decided to stay for drinks at his local pub. This generated some sympathy from my female friends as we all felt he never had any luck where women were concerned.
A group of us arrived at our home after our night out, some of our friends were staying with us, some with our neighbour (who'd very kindly given them a key so they could go over when they were ready). We weren't quite ready for bed though and the night looked to be a long one so our friends who were staying at our neighbours house wanted to change their shoes and get out of their fancy clothes into something more comfortable. We rang our neighbour to see if he was home before our friends let themselves into his house but had got no reply so they decided he must be out and it would be fine to use the key. My other half and two of his friends trundled over there but found that the door was double locked from the inside, thinking this was strange they began calling his mobile phone, they could hear the ring tone from inside the house but still there was no reply from their rather loud knocking. At our house we could hear the commotion but shortly after we heard his door open, and presumed all was well. A few minutes later the three men walked back into our house, ashen faced and suprisingly quiet considering their rowdiness only minutes before. The rest of us were asking questions by now, assuming that something awful was wrong. I can't describe how disturbed these three big burly men looked, they all seemed to be in shock. Finally after much interrogation the story began to unfold. They'd hammered on his door concerned for his safety (why do men suddenly turn into drama queens after a few drinks?) and eventually they'd heard our neighbour running down the stairs. He didn't open the door but instead informed them from behind it that he was busy, he couldn't speak to them right now. They'd insisted he open the door as they were worried something was wrong (if it had been a bunch of women they'd have taken the hint and gone home). Reluctantly he'd opened the door, roaring drunk and naked apart from a pink silky dressing gown which he'd attempted to wrap round himself but was clearly too small and didn't meet in the middle. The parts of his body he'd so gallantly tried to cover where the exact parts he was exposing. Speechless, the three men looked at each other, looked at him, one of them asked him what he was doing and had he forgotten that he had guests that evening. Our shy, timid neighbour brazenly told them that he had pulled and could they come back later. With that he'd flounced back up the stairs, exposing his backside as he went and shouting over his shoulder to shut the door behind them. By the time the tale had been told, we were all roaring laughing, it was like a scene from a carry on film. The best of it was half an hour later he knocked on our door, acting like nothing had happened, with his conquest trailing behind him (looking dishevelled with a definite case of bed head) and asking if we minded if they joined us for drinks! The tale does go on but I think I'll have to save it for Three Men and A Dressing Gown Part 2!

I have a friend who is beautiful, generous, funny and loyal. There have been times in my life when I don't know I'd have got through without her. We've laughed with tears rolling down our face, cried with tears (and a bit of snot) running down our face, we've danced together (although I have to admit she put's me to shame), shopped together, been heartbroken together, and talked till our ears hurt or one of us fell asleep! It's a wonderful thing to have a friend who knows you inside out, who recognises that quiver in your voice means something is wrong. I know my life wouldn't be the same without her in it - and I want to say thank you. For everything. You know who you are missy!

Secret Keeper

Most of us have at least one person in our life who we know we can trust. We’d probably go to them in a crisis and confide our problems in them. But what if you’re the one everyone goes to in a crisis? What if you’re the one who is carrying everyone else’s secrets, they say knowledge is power but I say knowledge can sometimes be a burden. The world is full of secrets, so that must mean that the world is full of secret keepers. Secrets come in all shapes and sizes so you’d think the life of a secret keeper would be fun and exciting. Secrets can be wonderful things, the surprise birthday party, the engagement proposal, and it’s lovely to think that everyone is confiding in you, that they trust you enough to share their secrets with. But being a secret keeper is a double sided coin, what if the secret isn’t wonderful. What if someone told you a secret you wish you didn’t know. What if the consequences of the secret being exposed would hurt people. That’s the thing with secret keeping, you sometimes know things you’d rather not. Personally, my biggest secret keeper bug bear is affairs, particularly if it involves people I know. That’s the problem with secrets, you don’t know what someone is going to confide in you until they’ve said it – and then it’s too late. Some would say that type of knowledge means you have an obligation to do something about it, try to intervene. Rightly, or wrongly my stance would be to discourage of course but it’s not my life and not my business. The consequences of interference could be devastating.
So you see, secret keeping is not all it’s cracked up to be, yes we may know all the gossip, we may know more than you – but we probably know things you’d be glad you don’t.