Woman Down – 13.03

27 07 2008

I just lost one of my monitorees. I got to her blog 13 minutes after she posted she was off. That was it.

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.

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fiction that isn’t

27 07 2008

that was my little attempt at speed fiction. Except it wasn’t. I did get lost in Devon somewhere when I was, actually, probably five not four. My brother used to wander off but I didn’t know that bigger, cleverer than me, he always had an eye on my parents’ whereabouts. When he said we had to go back, I didn’t that he was losing them from site. When I wanted to stay on the plastic horse, he chose to leave me there and find. Survival of the fittest I guess.

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?





Lost? How come? – 12.29 – actually, now 12.38

27 07 2008

I saw the woman come towards me and stoop down. Suddenly it seemed wrong and turned to run. I went as fast as my little legs would carry me  and straight into the open arms of an older man. Older than my Daddy. He was trying to catch me too. I leapt back. The soles of red sandals flapping on the ground, my little content dress flying.  I ran back, but there she was again, her arms outstretched, stooping down, hurrying towards me. Him or Her?

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.





The Parkinson interview

27 07 2008

Well, now this may or may not interest you at all… but I like Meg Ryan and will continue to like her. I had to check this out because on the ever-so-trusted resource that is Wikipedia (;-)) it was claimed that dear old Meg had been very rude to Parky and that she had told him to cut the interview short.

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: Meg Ryan, 2007.
How can her mouth change so much?   That sexy sultry look.

 

Anyway, make your own minds up….





If you had a nickel for every time… 11.35

27 07 2008

I said ‘thingy’ ‘thingydoda’, ‘whatjamacallit’… well, just for every time I forget the name of the thing I’m looking for.

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/





Prompt from LizzieLu

27 07 2008

LizzieLu gave me this earlier and challenged me to identify with someone and write about it.

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 – 11.00

27 07 2008

LizzieLu gave me this prompt a while back when I was struggling to survive even. I am oddly alert now, have establisehed that it is far too warm in this living room and that I need to head outside for a bit. Wireless works out there – that’ll be cool.

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.