Anyway.

Write, time to sort out this ABOUT page thingy.

I’m blogging today for the Teenage Cancer Trust because:

every day in the UK, up to 6 teenagers/ young adults can find out that they have cancer. Yes, I did say – every day, 6 young people aged 13 – 24 – discover that they have cancer. Hat’s 2100 new cases per year. That doesn’t lose the ones who were already diagnosed and fighting their illness, but it adds 2100 young people per year.

Young adults contract some of the most aggressive cancers, which can be made worse by their growth spurts.

Sadly because only 0.5% of all cancers occur in teenagers and young adults, they are often misdiagnosed at first. If diagnosis is delayed, the cancer has time to progress thus decreasing chances of survival and excluding young people from clinical trials.

Up until the age of 16, most teenagers will probably be treated in a paediatric ward where toddlers and young children are also being cared for.

Over the age of 16 and our young person is likely to find themselves in an adult ward with much older and probably quite elderly patients. I experienced this when I was 25 (not with cancer, but a woman in the bed next to mine who screamed all night and was delirious all day with alzheimer’s and the lady opposite who seeking the fastest way out of this world). Youngsters aged 16-24, faced with a disease that threatens their own lives, should not have to deal with this added burden.

Even after finishing treatment, teens can struggle with personal and professional issues that are inadequately addressed.
– There is a lack of ongoing support from the NHS and other services once treatment is finished and there can be difficulty pursuing a chosen career because they are considered a health risk.
– Insurers or pension schemes can be reluctant to provide cover, and ex-patients often find it a struggle to get a mortgage—the list goes on and on.
Teenagers need support beyond treatment, and general awareness of the issues they face, to help them move forward. Can you imagine facing prejudice your whole life, because you were lucky enough to survive a killer disease that struck you in your teens?

· Cancer is the most common cause of non-accidental death at this age. Incidence rates are now higher in teenagers and young adults than in children, yet survival rates fall behind those of children and older adults.

Teenage Cancer Trust exists to ensure that teenagers and young adults are diagnosed efficiently, treated effectively, and have the support they need to make it through their treatment and rebuild their lives after cancer.

There are so many different types of cancer that when I first thought of blogging with cancer in mind, I initially began thinking of breast cancer, prostrate cancer, skin cancer, lung cancer, bowel cancer. All of these have struck people I love and care about. I thought of raising money for MacMillan Cancer Support who has supported those I have cared about. In all of these areas there are honorable and deserving charities and many fellow bloggers will be raising money for Cancer Research.

Two weeks ago I went to an open concert organised in an orchard in the heart of Kent. It is organised each year by a brave and hard-working family for Teenage Cancer Trust. As of that moment I decided to blog for them today, as they encompass all types of cancer and work for those who may be hardest hit, but from whom there is so little support.

Can you imagine being 15? Hormones away? Your biggest worry should be how to chat up the girl in the front row, or who Jonny fancies or is your hair straightened properly and suddenly it becomes,” Will I live to be 20?”

If we can give some hope to these youngsters, some comfort, some adequate support and some appropriate treatment, then let’s try together to do just that.

I hate asking for money, but if you can, please just pop along here to sponsor me and raise money for the Teenage Cancer Support!

Many, many thanks in advance,

Moira

And then the general FAQ

What is a ‘Day of Blogs?’

Day of Blogs has been invented this year to replace the ‘blogathon’ by a really brave bunch of individuals, notably Khouria Jen. She decided to initiate the Day of Blogs when the life stepped up and got in the way for the three fantastic organisers of the usual Blogathon. You can find her blog here: http://khouria.wordpress.com/, and she’ s blogging for a really worthy charity called First Book which makes books available for primary age children. Very important that. And just importantly, Jen deserves real Kudos as she has been organising this despite bad migraines and more recently a broken foot.

So… frustrated yet? What is a blogthon?

Well, a blog – short for Weblog – is a little personal site that is updated regularly and can be on any topic, theme or whatever else you fancy.

A thon – well, think of a marathon – think any race that you have to continue over an extended period of time.

So, a blogathon – 48 entries over 24 hours, one every 30 minutes.

Oh and look…. I have one minute left to get this posted.

If you want to know more about the blogathon and Cat Connor the original insitgator of all this fun and madness, not to mention huge benefits for charity, then why not pop along here? ttp://www.dayofblogs.org/?page_id=2

And now I’m warming up for the thon 2009 and can’t remember how this blog actually works. ahhhhhh. Need to change the header and can’t remember how. Bum diddy bum diddy bum bum bum.

Of course, this year is a tad different to the last two. This year I have a little baby to think of too. He’ll just have turned three months old when the blogathon begins and I’ll be needing to feed him, change nappies and most of all, sleep or I’ll become a foul mum just for a few quid. So, forgive me, but this year I will be pre-writing some of the entries and I will be enlisting the assistance of my hubby to help me post in dire moments.  I’m sure you understand why though.

And now, I’ll be blogging for the ME Association this year. A cause very close to my heart. You want to find out why, then you’ll have to stop by and check out the blog.

I’m doing it, because I can. Because this may be the last year that I can. Just because I can.

To everyone else who signed up to help and make this possible.

To my monitorees who have blogged bravely throughout the night and have given me a purpose and a goal and an occupation other than thinking of my own weariness.

To Renee who held my hand without being my monitor. Who took part in my Best Entry competition and who has written from the soul about depression.

To Jessica my monitor who looked in on me and encouraged me. Who understood.

To ALL my friends who took the time to come and support me – most of them yesterday AND today and some in the deep dark hours of the nigth. THANK YOU. THANK YOU

To those friends who delved deep into their pockets to help me reach my target. THANK YOU TOO!!

To my husband, who has fed me (wasaby?????? – sorry where was I?) delicious things, brought me bread today and a yummy cream cake from the bakers. Who pretended to watch Nemo last night.

And lastly, to Mischief, who shared my sandwich, kept me warm, didn’t leave my side for a minute during the night, who tried to keep me awake with a ball and who is now, clearly, completely exhausted by the whole thing.

THANK YOU!!!

I’m likely to come back in the coming days and link  up entries from other blogs I didn’t get to read, just cos there wasn’t enought time.

And I’m likely to come back and try out some of the prompts I didn’t get to use and more specifically, use this blog as a place to store pics and tales that I’m happy to share with my friends here.

And… I might just do that cancer awareness thing I was meant to be doing. I do believe the work that TCT does is important and if I’ve learnt one thing today, it’s to get those entries at least written and perhaps even up and posted before the event.  19 people checked in here before I began and the site was empty….. shame on me….

but hey, I was here, flying by the seat of my pants. good job I wear big fat woolley bloomers. Not.

A bit of history. Last year I won this in the main thon with the entry below. It totally rocked my world because I’d been doing this to ‘write’ and to ‘make a difference’ and I’d told virtually no one and therfore got a small amount of sponsorship.  And, it swelled my ego, honestly, what else do you think?

Anyway, the young man in question told me this year that he’s training to run a big sponsored race next year. I promised that if he got of the teachers to let me know, I’d sponsor him next year. He kept me going last year and taught me a huge lesson. A special thanks to him.

On my last post I forgot a B-Blogger so please, if you have time to come after you’ve had a nap, it would bbe great if you could look in on Linda. She is blogging for Christian Children’s Fund. http://www.christianchildrensfund.org/

And on that note, I’d like to say thank you too to all the people who have kept me going, all my monitees who are still going strong and particulary Aurora Lamour , Renee  and Jessica.

And bugger – this is on the wrong blog again. How do I keep doing that? GRRRRR.

I wish she had sent me some sort of message before… I mean, I’ve leaving messages every 2-3 hours over the last 24 hours.  I feel sad. That I couldn’t/didn’t help her more.

Anyway.

And when I tried to find them, I couldn’t. I ended up going up the hill into every shop  because everyone looked the same. I remember this woman chasing me and telling Dad she was going to take me to the police. It was actually quite terrifying and my Dad was my hero for years. Perhaps he still is some way.

But it didn’t stop me from getting lost again.  Next holiday, I was interested in the tanks and wandered off and got lost in one. My parents were going crazy.  I guess it was that curiosity that always led me into deep water. Why not?

I remembered what my mummy had said. Don’t talk to strangers. Who were these people who wanted to catch me. My breath caught in my throat. Please legs, work. Not like in my dreams where I always get stuck, glued to the spot.

And then I new. I bolted out into the street and down the hill. Quick as lightening. Through the legs and bags of people struggling up the hill, I hurtled down. I could her shouting out, coming after me. Her shoes clip clopping, mine flap flapping. And I could hear a wailing, a screaming and then I realised it was me. Why was she chasing me? And how would I ever find my Daddy again? How did I lose them? Didn’t they want me? Where was I?

I  ran and ran down hill, hurtling through the people who turned to stare at the four-year-old being chased by the young woman.

And then, through the crowds, his strong shoulders, his kind face, worried, running too, up the hill. I leapt into his arms and burried my face in his thick neck, wrapping my chubby legs around his  chest. Giants hands held me tight, rubbed my curls.

My Dad.

So I had to watch… and she’s short but she’s not really rude. She’s defensive. She’s wary and he picks up on that and someone he does nothing from beginning to end to put her in her comfort zone and she’s not rude, she just wants to put across her vision of the character she plays and not be judged for it. In the second part, her voice even cracks when he touches on the subject of her divorce. She knows where the interview will go and she’s not at ease. I even think the opening gambit on  fashion was the thing that really got her because, well, she’s not, but not fashion queen surely? hark at me!!!

If I had one things to say, in the video she looks too much like Rene Russo or another famous actress I can’t think of now.

and here she looks like she’s copying a certain Miss Jolie:
How can her mouth change so much?   That sexy sultry look.

Anyway, make your own minds up….

If my husband had a nickel for every time I stopped half way through a sentence and just walked off, because in my head I had already said it all, or because I had thought about something else and that was it.

Early menopause? Senile dementia?

I’m just busy?

Yeah… I am … and guess what? I’m going to dance the Time Warp… And if you aren’t or haven’t then get ye to the Day of Blogs site: http://www.dayofblogs.org/

This is from a book written in 1998 by Judy Blume called Summer Sisters and is basically about a life-long friendship between a girl named “Vix” and another named “Caitlin”:

Maia and Paisley are wrong. Caitln isn’t someone to get over. She’s someone to come to terms with, the way you have to come to terms with your parents, your siblings. You can’t deny they ever happened. You can’t deny you ever loved them, love them still, even if loving them causes you pain.

I’ve pondered it a bit. Actually, I’ve concluded that this relates to anyone that you love and from whom, for some reason, that love is not reciprocated. Or perhaps that love is bad for you in some way, like a partner who is physically abusive. You still love them, but you know, hopefully, that you have to leave.

I suppose the person who most springs to mind is my brother who I have loved dearly and I suppose, still love, although this love does cause me pain. However, as time goes by, I wonder to what you ‘attach’ that love, on what is it based, why does it exist? We have very little contact and I have no real place in his life which I accept and try to remain a ‘presence’ in his life in case some day he needs me. But is this just my need to be needed? Or my refusal to give up hope that although I let him fly away, that he may one day return?  How can you love someone who may have changed, who has undoubtably changed, and who if I were now to spend a prolonged period of time with, I may realise is a complete jerk? 

So I figure, you love someone, you accept that that love is not reciprocated or cannot be or is unhealthy and you step away. Let the person go or create your own space. And if its meant to be, then it will return. And if not, one day you realise that it simply doesn’t hurt any more and that your heart is free.

I was going to blog from every room but if I thought the place was the pits before I started blogging it somehow got worse overnight. How did that happen? Did the fairies come and make a mess? Or is it just my perception.

I was going to scan in pics of the house as it was and then do pics of it as it is.  Would’ve been fun for people who know me … and the house… and probably really scary for those who don’t.

I was going to really raise awareness of all the valuable work the Teenage Cancer Trust do. I was going to raise awareness about serious types of cancer.  I didn’t  want to do this in advance because I wanted to keep all the juice and emotional stuff for the day as a potential sponsor catcher.

But when it came to it, I just wanted to enjoy the event. Last year I wanted every entry to ‘count’, to ‘make a difference’ and I go so het up and stressed that after 8 hours you could’ve thrown me in the bin. This year I was just, Mrs Cool, blazé, relaxed…. a bit busy and bit stressed at one point. Oh, and also a bit majorly in agony at one point too (wasabi).

And in the end, you know what? Sod it.  I’ve got four hours left to do some cancer awareness stuff.

The house and my plans, well you know, this site will remain – for folk who are interested I will update from time to time because I’ve come out of the cupboard now and actually, its fine out here. Not that I wrote any fiction mind, but I could, perhaps. Still four more hours to go.

So…and its been better this year, with my blogroll, but …I didn’t read all the blogs I would have like to have done. I guess that is something that happens every year.

This is Destroyer the Dog – be warned, she is trained to take out bears!!!

In the space of three mini hours this morning, after having been slumped ungraciously across my legs for most of the night, this mini thing has already totally destroyed 2 tennis balls and lost one down a well. Great huh.

The well actually isn’t good news. Because this is where we were going to put our new fence, so, discovering that there is a well where we were going to put the concrete for the fence post is not cool.  Really. Tooo bad.

My mad hubby is trying to convince me that he watched Nemo last night…. He sure has a strange technique of watching films:

Thank you for all your notes too and for coming to find me (multiple times Nel – I was your notes too late last ngith but they kept me happy in the early hours of the morning).

Thank you!!!

It seems easier to post this here than to leave a note… I prefer OD…but this seems easier for those who have never used a blog before.

my husband has his talking pants on, bless him. This will be another rushed post.

Earlier on, someone asked me to do an entry on the difference between British and Belgian lifestyles. Which I could but didn’t and may still do.

So how about this for the French and American?

I’m  not sure I have a hero, but I have long had an admiration for Meg Ryan and if not for her as an actress, because I know very little about her, then the roles that she plays. She generally plays very sweet, very likeable, very gentle characters and I imagine her to be similar.  I always hated the fact that she had an affair with Russel Crowe and broke off her marriage though she could have innumerable reasons for doing so, including that Russel Crowe used to be totally irresistable. I think he’s a bit of a jerk actually, but hey ho, its not like we have a picnic every Friday together. Could be a really nice guy I spose instead of a complete using tosspot. Is this slander? No idea.

(Actually I just did some looking up and apparently she had a bit of a rude interview with Michael Parkinson – to follow I think).

Anyway…. my favourite all time feel good film is “French Kiss” so, as I was struggling abit this morning, I thought a few clips could be in order….

But then there are so many that this is going to become, mega youtube clip entry of the thon probably….

Little do I care, so here goes:

French Kiss

My favourite bit:
I love the smells and tastes and feel of things and flowers and the air outside and food and wine… oh yes wine.  And France. And French cheese and oh, everything really.

But its closely challenged by “you make my ass twitch”… “fester fester fester, rot rot rot”

oh and apparently we have the same stomache.

oh dear, now this reminds me of something recent…let me see… could it be……. wasabi?????

don’t you just adore a loveable rogue?

I love it… its so Frrrreeenncccch

Anway, I’ll stop now. Its time to post. I think I now all the words off by heart and yet I still laugh at the jokes, still mist up at the misty bits. How sad is that?  But you know what, it never fails to cheer me up on a sad day. Better than chocolate cake any day.

Only a fool would sit,
with its feet too close to the fire
where soon the blaze
will melt the soles of his shoes.

… sorry ….  its what dribbled through my fingers.

I posted. That means I’m still in. I mean – even if I were theoretically 15 mins late, that’s ok.

Was a close call.

#whistles in the air unsuspicioulsy and walks off #

There is soooo much clutter in this house it is untrue. I once said to a dear friend “I’m quite into the idea of Feng-Shui.”  He looked at me in horror and said “really?” “Yes,” I replied. “Why? Don’t you like it?” “No,” he replied perplexed. “It’s just that you really can’t tell.”

Bless him. He is so right. But I’m winning, slowly.

A long time ago I realised that if there is such a thing as reincarnation and lessons to be learnt in life, then my lesson is PATIENCE.  Without any doubt at all.

I can be very patient. I can sit and wait for hours if I have to.
And yet I can also be annoyingly impatient and when I want something, its now.  I mean, the garden, the house, the holiday to Hawaii… no just kidding.

The same friend told me once “A kettle never boils if you watch it.” Oh wise grasshopper, you speak true. I’m learning.

Anyway, back to the alien. I just had a shower to try to revive myself. It did the opposite. I am now completely dizzy, the world is actually spinning and I feel really rough. I also look about 10 years older than I4 hous ago and we still have 7 hours left to .

I’m not giving up, so there.  But there does seem to be an alien sitting on my sofa right now with a laptop attached to it somehow.

Well, this isn’t the one that I thought I would be answering, because I realised afterwards that the last entry wasn’t a ‘real’ entry either. However this ties in with the theme of FIRSTS that I had earlier.

My First Year at Uni

I was sitting on the bed when I heard the knock at the door.  I paniced.  There was some kind of party going on out there in the living room but I was tired and sad and …not really dressed for a party. I opened the door, hoping that they wouldn’t notice my funny pyjamas or the fact that I’d been crying.

A lovely girl stood in the door way, a piece of chocolate cake in hand. She pushed back her long curls and tucked them behind her right ear with long slender fingers. She licked her lips nervously and her large eyes popped in her oliver skin.

“We know you’re tired,” she said. “But we thought you might like some cake.”

I couldn’t place her accent. I smiled, thanked her and then she left.

This was my first night in my new home. The one I  had waited for so many years to find. I lived, for one year only in fact,  in a student residence in Glasgow. We had two flats that shared the same living room in which Irish, Scottish, Northern English and Southern English were mixed with Malaysian, Indonesian and Sri Lankan from Singapore. That year taught me a great deal about living with others, prejudice and cultural differences… and not always from the people that you would think.

As the supposedly ‘rich’ southerner, I was the only student completely entitled to a student grant. I was lucky – they still existed back then. In fact, my parents had the lowest income and I came from the ‘lowest’ background, the first in the village and the first in the family to go to University. This ‘class difference’ was a struggle for me back then.

We lived with friends who had to deal with arranged marraiges and family expectations, who could not meet men unless they were chaperoned and who would not dare to do so because news would filter back.  Who needed to cover their head if a man entered the flat. With different cultural understandings of hygiene. Learning about Ramadan and Diwali.  Muslims, Hindus, Catholics and Protestants together.

My own judgements were challenged. I watched the little rich girl who had always had a servant to cook for her, learn how to cook from her mother in a weekend and become one of the greatest culinary hosts I have ever seen. A mother who had had to leave her one year old son and husband behind in a far away country because her company wanted her to acquire an MBA. A lady who could massage with her feet.

I learnt a great deal that year.  Not in the seminars or lecture theatres, nor from the books.  But I learnt the best lessons there are and I learnt about friendship.

However, I thought a lot of the prompts might need some time for me to answer them properly. Then this one popped up and I KNOW the answer to this one:

If you disappeared today, who would be affected?

Simple, and actually not so simple.

I was going to say my mum, but the reality is that it might be my Dad or my Husband. … or the dog.

No, not the dog. I think, to be honest, my Mum. She has already lost my brother in a way and I’m not sure how she would cope if I were to disappear too. I remember that a lot.

Anyway.

Am suddenly, all of a sudden actually, really seriously struggling. I think I might well need a nap. And some pain killers!

Don’t dare to nap though – will have a shower as soon as Sebby is up.

I think the difference is that last year I wanted EVERY entry to MAKE A DIFFERENCE and some people can do that. But I can’t. Not unless I write them all in advance and that’s not really what its about.  This year I chilled and thought I’d take what came.

The other things is that I’ve been monitoring and reading other people’s blogs. The time passes sooo fast you have no time to get bored.

There are a few more folk I want to visit and then I’m getting on wtih some fiction – if I can, but certainly some prompts.

Dog is still sleeping tightly. I’m a bit worried about her. She seems so thin. But then she was at the kennels this week and since then she has been eating a little but probably not enough given that she is tearing around the garden like crazy with me.  I’m going to feed her up and fatten her up a bit.

The other reason of course, is because I can’t resist a challenge. Simple.

And then, there’s something about it. Each time you think you’re down and out, something turns up and puts right back up there. Someone sends you a note, makes you smile. Usually just because they bothered to check in on you – its costs them effort and time. Commodities that are rare in today’s world. Sometimes they say lovely things. Sometimes they are folk you don’t see much of.  These notes are gold dust to me. 

And then there is the gold dust that some people send to the charity. So far today I have raised £50. Its not huge, but its £50 more than the charity would have had otherwise. It takes many bricks to build a house. (:-) Believe me I know). And this £50 comes from my friends generosity. Doesn’t that warm your cockles a bit?

That’s why I do this. The warm fuzzies count too. And everyone should have as many warm fuzzies in life as they can.

That glimmer has stolen the sky, turning it into a sluggish grey. I had to go out to check on that glimmer and discovered the sky awash.  The lone blackbird was joined by the waking cockrel who woke the donkey who brayed its miscontent.

I went and padded through the grass in my bare feet. Chill, wet grass and something out there snuffling. A hedgehog? Or martin hunting?

I left it to its business… before I made the mistake of stepping on a slug.

I’m not waiting for 15 mins to post this. A lone blackbird has burst into song. Its still dark outside… but there’s a faint light around the edge of the stable. Could be the moon but.

Anyway, this is my reaction to said bird.

Yes, I look like a grinning fool, with a double-chin. Or drunk.

Am perhaps both of the former, but not the later and I don’t care anyway.

I made THREE posts to the main blog in the last 30 mins all to help out fellow bloggers. If you’re bored with me, go check this out.

I don’t mean it… although I do miss the beach…and the sheep…(no comments please)… and the fields …(not that there aren’t any here, but they’re different)….. All right, I’m stopping now.

So… first bike then?

Well, my uncle was a bike salesman – bit of an easy one that. I ended up with the sort of bike you wouldn’t have bought normally, probably the one he couldn’t flog elsewhere. It had little wheels and was a ‘budgee’ I think. Now was that mine or my brother’s? Or…did I inherit my brothers?

Yes… that’s it. In that case it might have been a rayleigh. It had a cool metal bit on the back,  a big loop like the stunt bikes used to have and if you sat on it you could do wheelies all the way down the road. It was cool.

Maybe I’m mixing up two bikes?

The first REAL memory of any bike is simple. In our house, you didn’t have stabilizers. You either learnt, or you fell off. And in our house, if you fell off, you got up and got back on again and you didn’t make a fuss.

Except,  my brother was supposed to hold the back of the bike for me so that I could ride around the garden in safety. I think I was about 5 or 6 ish. We had some strange wooden clothes pole in the garden to which there was a television arial attached. And in the middle of the garden was a concrete path. The other side of the path was a small bank. So… we rode of round one end, up the bank and round again and about this point my brother either got bored or he thought I could do without him. He let go of the bike… and I rode straight down the bank, over the path and slap bang into the pole.

It hurt.  I looked like I’d been in a fight for weeks.

I’m skipping a few bits here….but one of the most important FIRSTs for me was my first car. In fact, I still have the key to that little beauty.

She was a red polo aged 10 years when I first had her. She had surprisingly little on the clock and I always suspected that she’d already gone round once. I took her round again… and almost again in only two years.  She was great and I drove her almost into the ground. Poor thing.

She was my freedom. That’s why I still have the key.

She came after that year on crushes when no-one could tell me how long it would take my leg to heal or if I would ever walk again, let alone run, or dance. She died just before I got married. In fact, the day of my wedding I was under the car tying on the exhaust pipe with my shoelaces with a tiara in my hair. (My mother despaired). I never drove her again until I had to take her to the garage to trade her in.  The pot fell off the exhaust in the rode, flicked up and made a whole in the back of the car. I traded her in anway for parts.

Two things come to mind…. she came from Pforzheim. This is where I went when I was 14 to meet a lovely German family.  This is also where I met my first ‘love’. His name was Gert. I count him as my first kiss, and could he ever. He was also my first true heart break -  because I left before it began. Fool that I was. But then I was 15 by that time - give me a break. Oddly enough, he used to drive a red polo. I remember that quite clearly.

Anyway…what was the other thing? No idea… clearly not important.

So… here we go…

First Kiss…. ahhh, well, it was awful.   Guy was a paedophile and a complete jerk. End of.

First boyfriend… was a complete jerk as well, but not a paedophile fortunately.

First crush…well, I had lots of these so I don’t really know when the first one was. I think I grew up in love with the idea of being in love. Perhaps I just needed to be needed? (oooh, this is the bit where I become aware of  having given this link to ALL and sundry – but hey ho, in for a penny, in for a pound – or more….:-))   I think the first REAL crush, the one where I spoke utter jibberish and started blushing was during the Xmas play when I was 11 in my first year of secondary school. HIs name was Scott…Scott dunno-what, although I did quite recently. He had died blonde hair and I thought he was God himself. I played one of the girls in the Crucible. I had to moan and lay in bed and dear Scott was my father who had to lean over the bed. He was gorgeous.  Anyway, the one thing I really remember about that play was that at the dress rehearsal we couldn’t stop giggling and there is photographic evidence of me leaping out of bed and across the stage in complete depravity wearing ….my finest dunlop trainers…….:-)

Yep, I met my drama teacher’s wrath. But he was a perv who was later removed from school so I have no remorse.
A

And Scott  left school the following summer and that was the end of that.

I personally am waiting for the sun to come up. I LOVE that four in the morning bit where the birds burst their lungs and the first little glimpses of light come slipping through the sky. I love going out in the garden when everyone else is asleep…. of course, this doesn’t happen often because I also LOVE rolling over and pulling the duvet snug up around my ears.

But TODAY it WILL!!

Even if it sodding well rains!

Passing thought – it probably reminds me of Glasgow a bit where the sun never seemed to set properly in summer and there would still be a bit of light at midnight…. or is it just that I was still up quite a lot at 4am when I lived in Glasgow?? Hmm… p’raps I should change the subject….

So I’m getting my second wind for which I can thank the number of notes that popped up on that island I just left at 2 in the morning!! What are you doing guys?? Well, I’m not complaining – its lovely. But that makes you more crazy than me!!

Ooops, I just managed to save my dog from falling off the sofa onto her head!!! And she has gone straight back to sleep!!! Incredible!

And I have gone from cold shivers to hot flush. Not good me thinks, not good. I shall carry on with my treatment of diet coke and madonna.

Have almost been around my monitees one more time and left them all notes. Patting myself on the back. And a few outside of my little list.

But now, there has been no fiction at all…. And there has been a special request. So, with no further ado, I must press on!!!

Oh – and thanks guys, you are wonderful!! (as always)

Have to laugh at this pic… but not too much because I look like my grandmother and I find that slightly worrying…and sad… and nice I suppose too. Its just that she is in such a bad way at the moment.

Anyway, then.. a VERY SPECIAL FRIEND left me a very special donation just when I thought that everyone on the island was abed. Some folk are full of lovely surprises.

So that woke me up again and I’m back to reading and noting and griping about wazabe.

Ohhhh, if you’ve logged in, then I need to stop writing pure gibberish.

I’ll be sending you mail soon. 

Well, I was going to go to a party in Second World – but I’m so suspiscious of facebook and avatars and all the rest of the tralala that I didn’t download the avatar in the end, so I couldn’t go to the party.  I did go to facebook though which I swore not to do with my new laptop because I believe I got some nasty virus on the old one from there. Anyway, I did it and discovered that a very old friend is expecting a baby and another just got married in January. Good stuff.

I sent dear old Sebby to bed, the dog went with him and returned. Please please don’t snore too loudly or I’ll collapse and spontanously combust. In fact, I think that I am combusting. I think that is why my belly hurts so much. I did wander out into the kitchen. There is a smell of fish out there. I thought I might throw up on the spot. I think the fish might have been dodgy. Or its the wazabee. All I can say is that it shouldn’t have been. Not tonight.

Never mind.

I should have got sebbies photo card things doda bobby thingamajig off him before he went to bed. Mine is…somewhere. Not found since the move… amongst everything else. Well, I can tell you where it is… in a heap on the kitchen floor… We have a large kitchen…with a huge heap…and there is no where to put the stuff anyway…

Anyway. I’d post this random waffle.

I just picked up this idea on somone else’s blog. Probably should be deep an meaningful but think I run to deep and anythingful at the moment.

So. You have to find something to say about yourself with each letter of your name. … Thank God I only have a short name…

M   – moribund – what does that mean again?   Morose – sometimes. Moron??? Marvelous…yes, marvelous, that will do!

O – orrible.   original…

I – idiotic – Gawd, why are these always the first words I find? Imbecile? In…. oh, interesting. Yes, that thing I’m finding it hard to be right now. Yes. That one.

R – Right. Always Right. Even when I’m Rong.

A – Ass.   Yes I have a big one too…. Able. nah, that’s not great. Aimiable – most of the time. Angry – occasionally.  Angelic…… Ok, let’s leave it at that then.

What’s yours?

Had to happen, right?

Here goes….ooooohh,, ahhhhh, grump, grump.

The two sleeping beauties just rolled over and got more comfy – they make me laugh how that synchronize their movements together. They stretch together, open one eye and look at me together, roll and turn over together. I may have to suggest that they actually go to bed so that I can watch a film, or something.

The grump – oh yes, I think that bloody wazabee has seriously done something nasty to my insides. Call the fire brigade please, cos I am on fire. Not nice… and there are a whole 14 hours left to go…. and I need to find something more interestiing to write about because I’m even boring myself.

In the meantime, just keep….

So what does easy over, sunny side up mean?  Sounds like it should be in a song by Catrina and the Waves.

And this is where I realize that it must be getting late, because now I’m going to get personal. In the film “Runnaway Bride” Richard Gere (or his character) points out to Julia Roberts (or her character rather) that she doesn’t know herself. She doesn’t even know how she likes her eggs. 

I remember that striking a pretty loud chord with me. I once had a boyfriend (well, an ex-boyfriend at the time of the asking) who asked me whether I had liked going to football matches but I genuinely like football, or whether it was just because of him.

Simple really, I went because I wanted to know what it was like to stand in a stadium and cheer as part of a crowd. It was great. I crossed Germany to Chemnitz to see the local team play with him and a mate because it seemed like a crazy dumb thing to do and that it would be fun… and so it was…even the bit where I tried to jump on a moving tram and got pushed out onto the road. Anyway. Moving along.

But there were many things I did and have done because I was ‘fitting in’ with what someone else wanted and somehow I was forgetting to be me and who I am.

I figure that’s part of being a couple in a way and I figure it’s a problem that probably concerns women more. All couples need compromise, but a compromise is something that respects both persons limits and allows them to carry on being who they are without damaging the other person. It’s about growing together, each other with each other. Not shrinking together. Until neither of you recognize the person you first fell in love with.

So many people haven’t understood how I could live away from my husband (and dog) for the past  three years but for me, those three years have allowed me to return in more ways than one.

I have been able to remember who I am, what it is I want and need in life and from life and to find the strength in me to go and get it without leaning on anyone. You can’t give someone support if you are leaning on them and you cannot grow yourself if you are laying down.

Anyway, I know how I like me eggs – break them into the pan, move the yolk and the white around (but don’t beat it – its not an omelette) and then fry both sides. I have no idea what they call that, but served with ketchup that’ll do fine.

This is me:

And these are my two lovely supporters…. we were going to go for a walk an hour ago … or even two hours ago. Do you think I missed my chance?

Scuse the excessively bad image quality – I was WAY too idle to go get my camera.

Coffee is coffee as far as I’m concerned and not something I necessarily used to like. It used to be milky with sugar if it was strong. Now I love strong… but not too strong …Caffe Latte. I hate that being back in Belgium will mean that I can’t just stroll into Café Nero (or Costa) with a good book, slump in one of those lovely sofas and just read and enjoy my lovely Caffe Latte.  Or write. I used to write in the Outlet Centre in Ashford. I could have written for hours over a Chai Latte.  Honest-to-goodness-from-the guts-fiction too. 

That reminds me – there was meant to be SOME fiction on here today. Still – there are another 16 hours to go. 16 hours !!!!!!!!!! No way!!!

Anyway, here we go, on our little way. Another post posted.

And this is one of my MAJOR cheer me up vids. Cos this could be me actually. ))))))

I have been known to watch this at midnight on very bad days. Never fails to bring a smile for some reason.

“I’m in pretty serious trouble nah”  Am almost 10 mins late!!

I’m blogging today for the Teenage Cancer Trust because:

• every day in the UK, up to 6 teenagers/ young adults can find out that they have cancer. Yes, I did say – every day, 6 young people aged 13 – 24 – discover that they have cancer. Hat’s 2100 new cases per year. That doesn’t lose the ones who were already diagnosed and fighting their illness, but it adds 2100 young people per year. 

• Young adults contract some of the most aggressive cancers, which can be made worse by their growth spurts. 

• Sadly because only 0.5% of all cancers occur in teenagers and young adults, they are often misdiagnosed at first.  If diagnosis is delayed, the cancer has time to progress thus decreasing chances of survival and excluding young people from clinical trials.

• Up until the age of 16, most teenagers will probably be treated in a paediatric ward where toddlers and young children are also being cared for.

• Over the age of 16 and our young person is likely to find themselves in an adult ward with much older and probably quite elderly patients.  I experienced this when I was 25 (not with cancer, but a woman in the bed next to mine who screamed all night and was delirious all day with alzheimer’s and the lady opposite who seeking the fastest way out of this world). Youngsters aged 16-24, faced with a disease that threatens their own lives, should not have to deal with this added burden. 

• Even after finishing treatment, teens can struggle with personal and professional issues that are inadequately addressed.
   - There is a lack of ongoing support from the NHS and other services once treatment is finished and there can be difficulty pursuing a chosen career because they are considered a health risk.
   - Insurers or pension schemes can be reluctant to provide cover, and ex-patients often find it a struggle to get a mortgage—the list goes on and on.

Teenagers need support beyond treatment, and general awareness of the issues they face, to help them move forward.  Can you imagine facing prejudice your whole life, because you were lucky enough to survive a killer disease that struck you in your teens?

·         Cancer is the most common cause of non-accidental death at this age. Incidence rates are now higher in teenagers and young adults than in children, yet survival rates fall behind those of children and older adults.

Teenage Cancer Trust exists to ensure that teenagers and young adults are diagnosed efficiently, treated effectively, and have the support they need to make it through their treatment and rebuild their lives after cancer.

There are so many different types of cancer that when I first thought of blogging with cancer in mind, I initially began thinking of breast cancer, prostrate cancer, skin cancer, lung cancer, bowel cancer.  All of these have struck people I love and care about.  I thought of raising money for MacMillan Cancer Support who has supported those I have cared about.  In all of these areas there are honorable and deserving charities and many fellow bloggers will be raising money for Cancer Research.

Two weeks ago I went to an open concert organised in an orchard in the heart of Kent.  It is organised each year by a brave and hard-working family for Teenage Cancer Trust. As of that moment I decided to blog for them today, as they encompass all types of cancer and work for those who may be hardest hit, but from whom there is so little support.

Can you imagine being 15? Hormones away?  Your biggest worry should be how to chat up the girl in the front row, or who Jonny fancies or is your hair straightened properly and suddenly it becomes,” Will I live to be 20?”

If we can give some hope to these youngsters, some comfort, some adequate support and some appropriate treatment, then let’s try together to do just that.

I hate asking for money, but if you can, please just pop along here to sponsor me and raise money for the Teenage Cancer Support!

Many, many thanks in advance,

Moira

I entirely agree.  Somewhen I thought that my opening gambit would be: “let the party begin!!  Will there be song and dancing? Certainly, but I might not show you unless you pay me.”

However, somehow it was just TOOO Busy.

And still is.

I STILL haven’t done my ABOUT page! Maybe I should go and do that.

ps – sorry if this is NOT discrete. I just haven’t got time to go and find your email.  [insert delirious stress related (and hunger related) laughter here]

The sky is a very strange colour outside…it looked like it had been raining but apparently not. Just funny colourish. I think I’d like to go for a wander outside after.

That being said, I put the washing machine on at 2.15 and thought “I’ll hang thought out between entries.”

Bwahhahahahahahaah

Right.

I only just remembered that I put it on.

I also just realised that I am completely COMPLETELY starving. Thank God Sebbie has been feeding me Sushi!!

Mind you, I think the wazabee could be burning a pit in the bottom of my stomache. Perhaps that’s not a bad thing?

Time for another one of these:

and time to post.

Am late.

Have nought much to say – was posting on the main site for two fellow bloggers are who doin great stuff. One is in the entry  before. One is here: http://community.livejournal.com/er_imaginethis/  If you are fellow blogger, get yourself along there as there is a chance of winning $ for your charity.
And I’m going to have a go too. Nah.

And on this low energy note, a little something to cheer me up:

So, what’s the motto with you???

If you are feeling a bit short of ideas, it might worth heading across to Adam. He has some great prompt ideas, and I’m sure that for a little of bit of sponsorship, he might not mind you borrowing some. Alternatively, he is just worth the read for a little giggle.

Adam is blogging for the American Cancer Society in memory of his grandfather. I love the name of his site: “Get that wasp off my sandwich.” Go take a look!

1. A pneumatic drill going outside, making the hole building shake, the windows and all.
2. A child having thrown up all over the bed….(yeah I did this too… likely to happen one day).
3. Someone else wet the bed….(yep, this one happened too….long time ago and it wasn’t me who did the wetting…yeeeuuuch)
4. A policeman standing at the door. (yep, this one happened too – 5.30 – or was it 6? in the morning. Thank God it wasn’t bad news.)
5. A rat, dead or alive, there because it is a gift from my dog/cat or of its own accord. Not nice. No thank you.
6. The roof has fallen in… hopefully we are safe on this one.

It also means you get to nick other people’s good ideas…. which I will avidly do in, oh, possibly an hour. Because now I need to post to the main site, which is here: http://www.dayofblogs.org/

Three hours ago… oh no!! FIVE hours ago!!! I wanted to write a first quick entry and then move to the kitchen because its cooler in there than here. I only just had time to nip to the loo. Still. Time flies when you are having fun they say.

This is a good place to stop by for a giggle: http://slipjig.livejournal.com/   There are some great prompt ideas here too and some really quirky entires. Adam is blogging in honour of his grandfather who had cancer.