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Welcome to the family

While our family photo's are rare, we would have put the Addams Family to shame, not that we all wore weird black outfits and my Dad certainly didn't rock a pinstripe suit and pencil, moustache.  The thought of my Mum and Dad doing the tango is just so far out of my experience it boggles my mind.  No, we looked, to the outside World as perfectly normal, however, the things we got up to when we were bored is a little odd.

Sunday afternoons, especially rainy day ones, usually saw us all bored.  We had stuffed our faces on dinner and pudding, dishes done and a bag of sweets for us all,  The afternoon film was usually left unwatched while me and my dad sat doing the broadsheet crossword, me doing the checking for answers in the encyclopedia, I mean, who really knows names of obscure lakes and rivers in the Andes?  No Google then, just heaps of books everywhere, including a really old medical one that had graphic pictures of smallpox that I had written Trevor by the side of in a n…
Recent posts

2018 I wonder what's in store

Well Hello 2018, when I was young 2018 seemed like forever away. I always imagined that after 2000 we would be wearing tin foil catsuits, little ankle boots and everyone would have platinum blonde hair cut in a very sharp bob.  We would be flying around on little jet ski type things and food would come out of a machine you hit buttons to order in your kitchen.  Obviously I was influenced by Lost in Space and Blakes Seven.

I never for one moment imagined home computers, iphones and people glued to their phones all the time, I never imagined snap chat, Face time or text messages.  Don't know that I think humanity has really benefitted from them, I loved getting proper letters with paper and ink, I enjoyed ringing someone just for a chat and I hate that when you go anywhere people are forever looking down at their phones instead of up at people's faces.

I came out of Marks the other day (that's M&S, not a bloke called Mark) and, as I am wont to do, smiled at a lady going…

Just another old fashioned love story

When I was little, that's younger not smaller, my Mam and Dad always seemed to be either in the throes of an argument, starting one or not speaking after having one.  When they had a row, my Mam would take herself off to the parlour and get her old Jones sewing machine out and make me clothes. Now, my Mam was a wonderful cook but a seamstress? nope, not on your Nellie. In the absence of fabric, she would root about and often ended up cutting up old curtains or a bedspread and fashion me something to wear.  The resulting clothing bore no resemblance to the lovely frocks Julie Andrews made from curtains in The Sound of Music, if they had sleeves I ended up looking like I was on a slant, and had to lean to one side to move my arms, she never managed sleeves very well.  On one occasion she decided to make me a beach tunic so I could wear it and not get sunburned.  I am a redhead, I have never, ever done sun very well and always, but always end up a very bright red, if I was a colour o…

On being afraid

On Being Afraid

I can honestly say that I am not a scardery cat, it isn't in my nature. In life there are the careful people who, if a large fire breathing Dragon pitched up in their garden, breathing fire, would stay indoors, get the water buckets out and ring for the Police, Fire Brigade and Ambulance just incase. They would be very quiet and probably hide under the table.  I am the opposite, I am the Dragon Slayer, I would in all probability, march out and demand to know what the Dragon was doing in my garden, lecture it on the dangers of fire breathing near houses and tell it, very assertively to F Off.  I would have no plan A or Plan B for that matter, but I would have an underlying and absolute faith in my ability to succeed.
I have no fail factor built into my psyche.  It has landed me in trouble more than a few times and I have, at times, said to myself, walk away from the drama.  But, I also have that little voice in my ear that says, go on, take it on, you know you can s…

Mister, Van Gough and Gabrielle who was bitten by a rabid dog.

This is The Mister cat, he woke me this morning by doing a four footed splat onto my chest, when he does this I am never sure if I am either having a heart attack or Mr T has pounced on me while I sleep. The first is possible, the latter not so much, he sleeps like no one else I know.

I get up, take my tablets which are growing in number by the week. I look like I have gone into the medication sweetie shop and ordered a quarter of mixed meds please.  They are all so pretty, no wonder kids take them instead of sweets.
I have pills for inflammation, pills for blood pressure, for keeping my heart beat regular, pills for pain relief, deep shit pain relief pains that rip the shit out of my stomach lining, pills to help stop them doing that, pills for diabetes, pills for my bone pain, pills to dampen my immune system and the mega pills that are slowly swiping my autoimmune system out until even a sneeze could cause me to become infected and end up in A&E.
Oh and the insulin pen that I have…

The little voice in my head

The little voice in my head that is my conscience, even when I would like it to be quiet.
I have this little voice in my head a bit like Jimmany Cricket and Pinnochio, the one that when I am going to do something or decide something says, hang on, wait a minute if you do that, then all you have said about the other is hypocritical, can you live with that Missy? (the voice calls me Missy at these times).
In this instance it is the General Election quandary I am in at the moment. I belong to our local Labour Party, I have joined every local Party when I moved house, I have been an active member, not just a supporter on elections, but always, the lobbying, the not so popular times, the leaflet drops, even when I would rather stay at home. 
I don't support my Party's Leader, I love the manifesto in much the same way I love all good news and wish lists. It almost feels like the Party has sat down with a catalogue of good things we all want and need and has gone, I'll have one of …

Back in the day ......

This is a photo of me, taken in Aberavon Beach Bier Keller, back when no one had cameras, other than our parents who only used it on holidays, if you were lucky enough to go on one.  This was taken the night before I left to join the RAF, I was 17, a hippy type, but needed to see more of the world and was unlikely to do that staying in Aberavon.

I loved and love where I come from. It is industrial, a steel town, but has the most wonderful beach, miles and miles of sand and sea, mountains and forests all peopled by the funniest, kindest, modest people I have ever met. It was full of eccentrics and characters as we called the drunks and don't give a toss people. The area has produced many, many famous people, actors and singers and politicians and artists. Why this small town has produced so many I have no idea, but maybe it is because there was a can do attitude. Burton, Anthony Hopkins, Michael Sheen are just a few.

I was and still am a bit of an oddball, I don't need people …