4 Kinds of Cloud

Happy Days!

2010-10-23T13:03:00.005+01:00

Great news! Ed and I are getting married!

He popped the question on holiday in Gozo, the little island next to Malta, in what is undoubtedly the finest restaurant on the Maltese islands, Ta' Frenc. The place has the look of a roman villa with a beautifully-kept herb garden with a statue in it and palm trees. Too expensive for anything but a special treat, but the food is a bit special and the service is excellent. Though we'd been to Gozo before together (this was the third time), this was the first time we'd been to Ta' Frenc.

It might sound strange given previous posts, but I wasn't expecting the proposal at that particular moment. To explain: I had just achieved my PADI Open Water over three days, which was very intense, doing exercises and dives during the day and studying until midnight each night. I was exhausted and pleased with my achievement. Taking a mask off at depth underwater, swimming for a distance and then refilling it with air, for example, is one of the tasks you must accomplish - this is daunting. Such was the intensity of my underwater experience and the hard work I had put in, I was relieved to be doing something different and figured the meal out was a celebration of my achievement. Thus, I was actually a little surprised when he knelt down on one knee and opened a small box with a ring.

I think I said, "Oh really?"

He smiled and asked, "Will you marry me?"
"Of course." I replied, without missing a beat.

He ordered champagne, which seemed appropriate, and we enjoyed a pleasant meal outside under the palm trees, chatting about places we might go on our honeymoon and when we might get married.

I thought to myself: this was worth waiting for.

Two Caravans by Marina Lewycka

2010-07-26T13:05:00.003+01:00

I have been reading this book aloud to two people - a blind lady I support and my boyfriend. I strongly believe that is a book that needs to be spoken out loud, so that the different voices can be heard. I actually think that this is one of the best books I have read, though I admit I haven't yet read "A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian" also by Marina Lewycka, which has good reviews also.

I understand from reading other reviews, that many people have found the voice of Dog annoying. I also found him hard to tolerate at first, since he has no grammar and always uses capital letters, but there is a point to him being one of the story's narrators. I believe that the author intended Dog's voice to be a stepping stone to that of the chickens in the factory farm. It left me thinking, what would the chickens say if we could interpret their squawks and screams? We are used to seeing images of factory chickens, but it is easy to be so horrified that we cut off emotionally and then we cannot really think about what to do about it. Lweycka uses humour and little breaks in the plotline to allow the reality of the chicken factory to settle in. The reader is reminded that animals, of course, are sentient beings and we recognise, of course, that this situation is deeply, morally wrong. We are told that the chickens are being prepared for a supermarket BOGOF offer and it does not take much to connect the dots. When we buy chicken, even if it has a nice name - in this case the pleasing sounding "Buttercup Meadow Farmfresh Poultry" - we are getting a chicken or pieces of a chicken that has been tortured for the whole of its short life, burning in excrement, stressed, stuffed cheek-to-jowl with other chickens, stuffed full of food and antibiotics to the point where it cannot well support its own weight.

I assure you that while I aim to buy Free Range, I have not always done so. After all, you can sometimes buy a whole chicken for £2. To quote Ciocia Yola (admiring the man with calves like marrows) "Well, in this situation, what woman would not?" After reading this, I cannot look at the chickens in the supermarket in quite the same way again, even the cheapest ones seem to be too high a cost to me. Poor chickens.

Back to Dog and to respond to those who do not see his purpose within the story. It is clear to me that Dog, as well as being the stepping stone to our connection with the poor chickens, is also the voice of freedom. While the humans are bound by the chains of so-called 'civilisation' and must work hard for their money (and see little of it unless they are willing to sacrfice their morals in some way), dog is a pure voice. He does what he wants, when he wants and he shows kindness and compassion for the immigrants that he attaches himself to. Even Dog has his opinions, though these are based mainly on smell and doggy values/ preferences. Dog is self-sufficient. He is an excellent hunter and catches (free-range) birds and rabbits whenever he likes. He plays when he likes and he sleeps deeply and contently whenever he likes, unlike some of the humans.

I think that this is a novel that asks the reader to think deeply about their morals, but does this through plenty of humour and character interest.

If you read this story, do yourself a favour and speak the words out loud. Have a go at speaking the different accents and get to grips with 'being' the different characters within the story. See what it feels like to play Vulk who is big and dumb and dangerous, or Neil, the teenager at the chicken factory who is trying oh-so-hard to learn how to smoke properly.

Great Expectations

2010-07-23T12:06:00.015+01:00

A beautiful hotel just twenty minutes from home. Two nights together, just the two of us. A romantic dinner for two in the hotel's classy restaurant. I thought I knew what this was about. "You alright?" I asked, sipping on a small glass of white wine. "Bit nervous." he admitted.

I bet you are, I thought. I smiled at him.

****

So, he was nervous, but that wasn't the only sign. Only a couple of days ago, he'd gone to see a cricket match with his Dad. He got back just before 10pm and put his arms around me, giving me a big hug. "So how was it, then?" I asked. "Did you enjoy it?"

"It was good," he said, "but on the way there, all I could think about what where I'd like to take you on our honeymoon."
"Really?" I asked, "Where?"
"Barbados."

Wow, I thought. Things were definitely looking up. We had been talking about getting married almost since we'd first got together, but he still hadn't popped the question. It was driving me crazy. Every time we'd go out for a meal or did something special together, I'd be sure it was going to happen. And each time, I'd been wrong. But this time he'd been so keen to arrange this romantic break together and now he was talking about honeymoons.

I was confident that something special was brewing. And clearly I wasn't the only one who thought so. Apparently, his work colleagues had got wind of our upcoming romantic break and had teased him with renditions of the Wedding March. Dum-Dum-dee-Dum! His boss even joked that he should leave early to buy me a ring. I smiled when he related this to me. I really hoped that this would be the time. I really hoped so.

****

We chatted easily, happily. Our starters arrived. I was enjoying every moment, even as the rain fell outside, soaking the plants and flowers. Sweet, summer rain. The main course came. It tasted wonderful.

Ed excused himself. I figured he was still nervous and was going to compose himself. I smiled to himself, thinking that it would be very sweet if he did get down on one knee, because he'd 'slid out' at a roundabout earlier in the week on his commute to work and his knee was still very raw.

He returned and seemed more at ease. He sat back in his chair and carried on eating. Time passed. The waitress cleared our plates.

I realised my chances were ebbing away. Surely he wouldn't propose over desert? I sipped my mint tea, trying to keep my cool as he tucked into his apple and rhubarb crumble.

"Delicious." he proclaimed, pushing the dish away.
"I guess that's that, then." I said, quietly.
"Yep." he said. He leaned back in chair and rubbed his belly, looking full and content.

I managed to keep a certain level of composure in the restaurant, but back in the room, it was obvious that something was wrong. He watched, alarmed, as my face broke into tears. "What's wrong?" he asked.

I pulled away, still sobbing. "I can't talk about it! It'll ruin everything!"

Except not talking about it would mean he'd be left to guess, which might make things a lot worse. Dammit. I would have to talk about it. I met his eyes, took a deep breath and told him, straight. "I just thought that this was it! I thought you'd ask."

He let my words sink in and then spoke slowly, carefully: "You thought I would ask you to marry me." I nodded. The tears kept coming. He watched, helpless.

"I'm so sorry." he said, meaning it. "Please don't be sad. I love you so much and I really do want to ask you."

"I know." I said, sighing. I tried to smile, but with no success.

"Oh no!" he said, suddenly. "These last few days, you must have thought I was giving you signs." I nodded, then blew noisily into a tissue. I let my shoulders drop. "Well, yes... but, people often see what's on their mind. It's like when you break up, every song is about heartbreak."

I was so annoyed at myself. He was a good man and not only had I ruined our romantic break, but I had also screwed up any future proposal.

A good friend of mine advised me to forget about a proposal now. She pointed out that men have very different ideas about things and cannot be relied upon to know what is going on in a woman's head. Her now-husband had tortured her by nonchalently displaying the engagement ring in its little box on their mantlepiece for three whole months before proposing.* She suggested that I opt out of the pain of waiting and just discuss what it means to get married like adults, decide whether we want to and take it from there.

That sounded good to me. What a ridiculous charade we put ourselves through, anyway! Dreaming of fairytales. Ruining perfectly good realities with impossible expectations. I decided to reject romance for a more realisitic outlook and proposed this alternative to Ed.

My handsome young man thought it over. He said that this was all very well, but he'd already decided what he was going to do and that actually he'd been thinking about it for months. I felt a dawning sense of regret and apologised, sheepishly.

"Don't worry," he said, cheerfully, "I'll just have to surprise you."

So romance isn't dead after all. Although it looks like I'm back to waiting.

Dammit.

*Although she now gets her revenge by reminding him of this fact whenever she likes, which luckily he takes in reasonably good humour.

Thumping Hell

2010-07-01T09:43:00.011+01:00

Those who know me on Facebook or otherwise will know that I recently got hit at work in my duties as a support worker. This is the story behind it. It's a bit long, but it needs to be to understand a bit about the lady who hit me and what happened to me next, including how my workplace responded.

Two weeks ago, I was working with a lady in her sixties. This lady, who I shall call Joan, has complex mental health problems, including dementia and schizophrenia, as well as mild learning disabilities. The dementia means she will forget staff names (so it is common to be called 'Thingy') and the names of common words (milk, coffee, cigarettes). The schizophrenia means she thinks she knows people on TV and is sure that her father is alive and goes to her local church. She lives in her own home, a rented bungalow, and has staff 24/7 to support her in her daily living.

This is one of the rare times when she has 'double up', which means there are two staff working with her.

The other staff member goes off to buy food for Joan.

This is better done without Joan, since she can get rather upset in supermarkets. Joan doesn't understand the value of money and its limits. This has led to her causing scenes (shouting, wailing, hitting) and it is usually staff who get the brunt of her aggression.

Meanwhile, I help Joan get showered and get dressed. I shower her, getting half-soaked in the process. Joan seems in a good mood, but her memory is poor today. A sign that she is not so well.

After her shower, I help her get dressed and we have a bit of a laugh while doing this. I brush her hair - quickly since she doesn't have much patience and I ask if I can dry her hair. Joan is already distracted and says no. She asks for a cigarette, which I provide and light for her, then I take back the lighter to stop it from being lost by her. She often takes her most important things and puts them somewhere 'safe' - in a bag, cupboard or drawer - and then forgets where they have been put. She then blames the staff for stealing it. Again, this can be a trigger point for aggressive behaviour.

The other staff member returns and we prepare a picnic for Joan. Joan loves picnics. She has a large thermos flask to fill with coffee and is very pleased with it. However, today, Joan becomes upset when we cannot find her picnic blanket. We reassure her that it will turn up; it always does. I feel that I have seen in somewhere and eventually come across it on her bookshelf and show her that I have found it. She seems pleased, but continues to be focused on looking for things. I do not know what she is looking for and she cannot tell me since she has forgotten the names for things. She seems lost.

Before we go, we examine the bag of belongings she has collected for the journey. Some are completely unnecessary, so we talk her through what we have collected - sun lotion, picinic blanket, thermos, plates, cups, sandwiches etc. and encourage her to put down some of her things she really will not need: A coat, not needed on this pleasantly hot day. Shampoo. A broken toy. And many many other things. She agrees to take just a few items.

We go out to a beautiful spot on the moors - suitable for Joan because there is a fairly level, short track to a river. The spot is perfect this time of year, lined with rhodedendrons and the weather is fine. On the way, we have stopped at a supermarket and purchased a fold-up chair for Joan to sit on when she is at the picnic, since it is very hard to her to get up the floor once she sits down. This is achieved by me going into the store alone while the other staff member keeps her company and they both smoke cigarettes.

While we are there, Joan seems disappointed that there are no shops and keeps mentioning things that she would like to buy. We assure her that she will have her chance on another day and try to draw her into the surroundings, which she normally enjoys - flowers, birds, stream, passing dogs and a horse, the odd sheep as well as the picnic itself. .

We return to Joan's bungalow and Joan seems focused on one thing - her Blue Badge, which allows staff to park their cars in a spot that is sometimes more helpful for Joan. The other staff member and I quickly discuss it and decide that we should really try and keep the Blue Badge in the staff room since otherwise it can be lost by Joan and lead to her blaming us and attacking us. Joan becomes very demanding and we try to convince her that we can hang on to it for her, but that of course she can take it with us next time we go out.

This doesn't work. Joan becomes distressed and we try to make a compromise and give her the leather pouch that the Blue Badge is kept in. This does not please Joan who is now in tears, asking why we are doing this to her? We ask her to leave the staff room to give her the space to calm down (and us the protection from her aggression). Instead, she punches me hard and square on the jaw. I am shocked and find myself shouting at her, "How dare you! Get out!". Joan continues to stand in front of me, threatening me. I tip her off balance so that she falls back safely onto the staff bed in a sitting position (and so less able to punch me again) and then the other staff member and I forcibly escort her from the staff room and lock the door.

My heart is pumping madly.

Joan shouts at us through the door, tries to break down the door, smashes some of her plates. She then goes out onto the road and is shouting at anyone who speaks to her.

I call the office. Somewhat tearfully, I ask for a manager to get down here, explain what happened and that they may wish to call the police since she is heading for a populated area. I also request that they find someone else to fill the shift I had agreed to do later in the day. The other staff member goes out to try to control or at least monitor the situation while I fill out the Incident Report Form. I am not ready to interact with Joan right now.

My jaw is swelling up and is painful, so I get some frozen peas from her freezer and apply that. The manager shows up and is able to convince Joan to return in from the street to her house for coffee.

I can't get through to my doctors and so I end up going down to A & E, who tell me it will probably hurt pretty bad for a couple of days, but that it isn't fractured and I should be okay if I take painkillers and that unless I am entitled to free prescriptions, I am best off taking paracetamol and ibuprofen together. I am very annoyed that I have to pay for parking. Someone who has suffered an accident or sudden illness and has driven themselves to hospital shouldn't have to worry about parking charges.

I return home via my local shop, which will not sell me more than one type of painkiller, despite me explaining my situation. I assure them that I'm not suicidal; I would just prefer not to be in pain after being thumped in the face. The cashier is adamant. Apparently, they can be personally prosecuted. I also have to buy something over £5 to use my card. Some joker in the shop suggests I go for a 'Lucky Dip' scratchcard. I grumble back that I'm pretty sure it's not my lucky day.

I head five minutes' walk down the road to the nearest chemist, grumpy and raw. I burst into tears. The staff there seem a little shocked when I say I've been hit.

A few days pass. Work calls. Am I willing to work with Joan again? I say no, I am not. She has attacked me many times. Generally, I have been able to flee or block the attack, but this has been the second time she's really 'clocked' me and it is not good. I am concerned that when working on my own, what might happen if I was knocked out? How long might it be before someone finds me?

I ask if pressing charges could be helpful to Joan since it might force more staffing hours to appear, so that she gets double up all the time. I am told that this will not happen, that funding is poor at the moment and more cuts are being made.

I ask for a Supervision, which I get, and counselling, which I don't. I am told that they don't have a 'counselling infrastructure' in place at the moment and that meanwhile I can get counselling through my GP. I counter that this can take months and I need support now. I am advised to get 'emotional support' from Victim Support.

My resentment for my employer grows and is not helped by a letter from the Director saying that we will no longer be able to share the food we have helped purchase and cook and will have to bring our own. This seems impractical on a long shift, since it would require us to bring breakfast, lunch and dinner. It also means us spending more money on our living expenses, without being offered a proportionate pay rise.

Do you hear that? The winds of change are calling...

The Truth About False Memories

2010-02-04T18:38:00.017Z

I was outraged that this week another support worker basically accused me of trying to plant false memories into one of the clients that I support - can you believe that??

My colleague's accusation floundered me. I mean, how would you even go about doing such a thing?! Creating a false memory? Let's try creating a relatively nice memory - how might that go?

* * *

"Remember that rose garden where we sat together, sipping lemonade and eating jam tarts?"

"Uh, no."

"Sure you do, the sun was setting and you told me how much you loved my company."

"No, really. That didn't happen."

"The wind was just tickling the leaves of the pear tree and we laughed at how there was only one strawberry jam tart left and that was your favourite."

"That's a fantasy you just made up. Anyway, I prefer raspberry."

"Remember how I dropped the strawberry tart as I was passing it to you and you cried and I said not to worry, it had landed jam side up."

"Stop it. You're annoying me. Leave me alone."

"I dried your tears and you ate the tart and you smiled. Such a lovely smile."

"If you speak to me again, I'll punch you, I swear."

***

Sure, see how easy it is??

I can't respond to this without pointing out with all seriousness that so-called 'False Memory Syndrome' was invented by people accused of sexual abuse and in particular, abusing children. Check out this interview made by one of the founders, Ralph Underwager. And then try to work out why this man, who sees paedophilia as a 'responsible choice' for individuals who have that inclination, might also be a proponent of False Memory Syndrome? It is so dodgy! And there is something very disturbing about the idea that he is also a priest.

Two of the other founders are a couple. Their daughter claimed that her father abused her when she was a child. The daughter's therapist was accused of somehow implanting these false memories into their daughter's mind.

This woman at work has got me rather worked up, because the whole idea of 'False Memory Syndrome' is a weapon to be used to cloud and manipulate people who have had real memories of abuse, which they may have not been able to fully remember in an unconscious attempt to protect themselves from pain. This is known as disassociative amnesia, which is a real phenomenon.

I'd like to add a quote from an article, about why False Memory Syndrome is appealing to some people even those who are not abusers seeking a plausible-sounding defence:

"The notion that therapists can implant scenarios of horror in the minds of their patients is easily accepted because it appeals to common prejudices. It resonates with popular fears of manipulation by therapists and popular stereotypes of women as irrational, suggestible, or vengeful. It appeals to the common wish to deny or minimize the reality of sexual violence. In actuality, false claims of childhood sexual abuse are demonstrably rare, and false memories of childhood trauma are no doubt equally so. The evidence comes from epidemiological research, investigations of sexual abuse reports, and studies on the nature of traumatic memory."

From The False Memory Debate: Social Science or Social Backlash? by Judith L. Herman and Mary R. Harvey, The Harvard Mental Health Letter, Vol. 9, No. 10, April, 1993.

2010-01-19T17:25:00.002Z

I had one New Year's Resolution - to get fit.

My partner Ed is extremely fit. He rides 9 miles to and from work most days. He can do hours of downhill cycling and cross country. I can do minutes.

I admire him a lot. I don't need to be quite that fit, but I know I need to make an effort to get fitter. It will give me more energy and confidence, help me lose a little weight and improve my overall health.

I want to join a gym so that I have access to some good facilities. In my home town of Plymouth, Devon, there is a lot of choice.

The cheapest gym in my area is a membership of £4 per year and then £1.50 per session. This is Heartbeat, a gym intended to support those with heart problems, but that is also open to the public. It is really a charity that accepts your donation and offers you use of their facilities. I haven't visited it yet or made any enquiries, but that is a very reasonable price.

The most expensive is The Devonshire Racquet and Squash Club, run by Esporta. Their Off Peak membership is £56 per month. This does include a lot for the money, to be fair, such as personal trainers etc., but I just can't justify the expense!!

Labour of Love

2010-01-12T11:16:00.006Z

It's been so long since I've written anything here at all.

Ed and I finally got the keys to our house at the end of October 2009. We were disappointed when we stepped inside. It hadn't been properly cleaned and there was lots of rubbish to get rid of - broken pictures, odd bits of junk. So we spent our first day just cleaning.

We soon discovered that the oven didn't work - we tried cooking a pizza and managed only to defrost it! It turned out that the previous owners had been going down to the shed at the bottom of their garden to cook on a camping stove - amazing! Ed's folks lent us their convection oven/ microwave. After a while, they said we could keep it, because they'd bought a new one. I changed the filter on the extractor fan to get rid of the smell of fish. Ed's Mum helped us clean up the gas hobs and we could use them for cooking again.

We ripped out the hallway carpet that smelt of dog and looked very dirty indeed, but decided not to put down fresh carpet until we had painted the hall.

We discovered that the old lathe and plaster wall in the larder under the stairs was crumbling, so we had to pull it down. The plaster was made from lime, sand and horse hair and the original lathes were nailed on with square head iron nails. It could well have been as old as the building itself (1850s). I had wanted to keep the old plasterwork, or fix it up somehow, but it just wasn't possible. I would have to go and shave some horses for a start to get the horsehair, and I can't imagine that they'd have been best pleased about that! So, to spare the horses, we had a plasterer put up some plasterboard and once the plaster dried, we painted over. The end result was clean looking walls, with the old lathes hidden beneath, should anyone want to see them in a few decades. Ripping out the old plaster produced this fine, dry dust that seemed to get under the facemasks and settled over everything we owned. Thanks to Kate, who did the bulk of this job.

By this point we had already painted the master bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. The wooden floor was waxed and polished. Curtains and blinds were hung up and furniture moved in. We bought a king sized bed from John Lewis for £275 and a mattress from Furniture Village for £299 (reduced from £999). It was incredibly heavy, but it seems to be great quality and tough enough to last for years and years - we hope!

Ed wallpapered the living room due to this room still having the original lumpy-bumpy walls. We realised that trying to take off the lining paper etc. would result in a cracking and collapse and we'd have to get that plastered too, and this would cost us time and money. It was the first time that Ed had done any wallpapering and he really struggled to get a good finish on these walls. At least he is tall and didn't have to use a stepladder, as I would have. The end result is quite beautiful. We used Laura Ashley wallpaper so that the fine quality would help hide the lumps and bumps, which I think worked.

And so, in these different ways, we personalised the house and began to feel like it was ours.

Unfortunately, we had a lonely Christmas after contracting both the Norovirus. We were horribly sick and were aware just how contagious it was, so shut ourselves in to try and contain it. All in all, we were sick for about 1 month, having also caught the flu at the same time. Worst luck.

Our To Do List for when we are fully recovered :

the hallway (strip old gloss paint, repaint, paint walls and ceiling, lay carpet)

the larder (shelves need putting up)

the spare bedroom (ceiling, walls, skirting and carpet, furnishings).
mirrors (I have no idea how I look anymore. The largest mirror I have is 8cm in diameter! Mirrors will also help to reflect light in the smaller rooms.)
door frames (need to paint or sand down to original wood)
built in wardrobe (needs finishing)

the shed (needs painting, securing and to be supplied with electricity)
the garden (sawing back the budleias, growing flowers, deciding what to do with the tiny pond).

So still lots to do! I think we will be working on this for a long time to come. I think it is really a labour of love. Big thanks to Kate, Gerald and Valerie for all their help.

2009-07-25T11:44:00.004+01:00

Woooooh! We had an offer accepted! It is a 2 bedroomed cottage originally built in the 1850s to house railway workers. The old part of the house is pretty tiny, but it does have this fabulous kitchen extension with a partially glazed roof. There are 2 woodburners downstairs and 2 fireplaces upstairs and oak floors almost everywhere. It is efficient to heat. The kitchen is lovely and light.

The south-facing garden has a lawn, a pond, a marble table and a number of trees - pear, apple, cherry, eucalyptus and some overgrown budleias that should provide fuel for the woodburners!!

Ed and I are super-happy! When we made the offer, the vendors hadn't made an offer on anywhere themselves, which was a bit worrying. But now they've made an offer, it's been accepted and it's chain-free. So we're hoping that the process will go smoothly and we'll be able to move in sometime in September.

Yeah! Exciting times!! Our own house! It is not a large house, nor does it have a large garden, but it has everything we need to be happy.

We have been offered furniture donations from friends and family, which will come in really handy, but still need to buy a bed and a few other things, like a washing machine. We're looking at selling a few things we no longer need to give us extra space.

Still Looking

2009-05-21T18:53:00.003+01:00

Update: we haven't bought a house. I guess we will if we find one we really like. But I'm not in any hurry.

It seems to me that house prices are likely to carry on falling overall and I'm not sure I want to buy somewhere that will lose value. It seems like house prices have fallen around 25% from peak prices, but it seems as thought the debt-to-income ratio is still much higher than in previous decades and so has a way to go before we're back on track. And really it might be a while before we begin to get our way out of the sludge that is the credit crunch.

Anyhow, for now, we continue to live in our shared house with fellow housemates. Which is okay I guess.

Buying A House

2009-02-20T16:02:00.004Z

OOh ooh oooh! I am so excited. Ed and I are buying a house together. It just seems like a natural thing for us to do.

Okay, well, we haven't picked out the exact house yet, but looking for somewhere near where we already live, ideally a period property with a garden.

We've done the first bit, which is got our heads around the baffling world of mortgages. I won't bore you with details, but the important thing to know is that we can afford somewhere, maybe a two or three bedroom house.

The next step is really about finding the right place, checking it over and making an offer. I understand that the market is so poor at the moment that sellers are accepting cheeky offers of 20% below asking price. I think that despite this, there are not that many folk buying, especially first time buyers, because without a decent deposit, mortgages are very expensive. But we are lucky enough to be able to put down a good deposit.

It's a bit like everything has conspired in our favour and I'm just stupidly happy right now, hooray!

Dubai Trip Jan/Feb 2009

2009-02-05T13:12:00.008Z

Dubai

I have just come back from 2 weeks in Dubai with my boyfriend, Ed. We were visiting my parents. It was his first opportunity to meet them because they moved there just before Ed and I got together. He also met my sister Rachel who was there for the first week as well as my Uncle Michael, who was there for the last few days. He was a little daunted at first, but soon relaxed into being there.

Mum and Dad have an appartment in Dubai Marina. We visited the Atlantis Hotel on Palm Jumeirah (the manmade island in the shape of a giant palm tree). This is the hotel that had the largest firework display in the world when it opened in November 2008. We were impressed with the huge aquarium full of fish (complete with SCUBA diver!), giant marbles turning under a flow of water and a blown glass sculpture stretching up towards the very high ceilings in the lobby.

The Grand Opening to Atlantis had the biggest firework display the world has ever seen. Check this out:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nF7jnCcKpPM

My sister went skiing at the Mall of the Emirates at their purpose-built indoor ski slope. Here's a link to a story on the Mall and the ski slope if you're interested. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeMcIKnPLdA

There was a toy shop with everything a child could ever want from remote control cars to hand puppets to giant stuffed toys. We checked out the price of a giant stuffed toy mammoth. 25,000 dirhams (£5,000).

We went out into the desert, chatted to farmed camels, witnessed a beautiful sunset and warmed ourselves around a roaring campfire under the stars.

We went to the beach, were treated to the sight of some rather well-dressed camels. I enjoyed a mocha frappucino and became uncharacteristically animatedly thanks to the caffeine and sugar rush.

We went to top Morroccan restaurant, 'Tagine' set in the lush, tranquil, palm-lined setting of The 1 & Only Royal Mirage. I wanted to steal the beautiful, blue and white, mozaic style plates, but resisted.

We went to the gold souks, perfume souk, spice souk, textile souk. My parents bought me a stunning gold necklace as a belated birthday present. They haggled down the jeweller from 1,500 dirhams to 1,000 dirhams (just under £200). They also treated me to sandalwood perfume, frankincense and myrrh. Mum bought me an animal print nightwear set.

Ed got hungry in the textile souks and Mum asked directions from an Indian woman who offered to show us to The Golden Fox, which I imagined to be some British style pub. Actually, it turned out to be The Golden Fork, which is a budget level chain-restaurant serving Chinese food. We were quite happy with the 22 meal deal - two kinds of curry etc. with rice, salad and a drink for 22 dirhams (just over £4).

We went to Abu Dhabi and saw the most beautiful mosque - pure white with domes and minarets, the size of a cathedral and decorated with wonderful patterns inside. We had to remove our shoes and women were expected to wear an abaya and headscarf. We stopped briefly at Heritage Village, which was closed, but we could still wander around. It was a little tacky, but not too bad.

Next was the Rainbow Sheikh's car museum, some 40 minutes or more from Abu Dhabi and in the middle of nowhere, but well worth a visit. At first it seemed like it was shut. There were no cars in the car park. We were discouraged by a large sign in English and Arabic basically saying thanks for visiting, we hope to be open sometime in 2005. The doors to the pyramid shaped warhouse were locked, but we were let in and the lights were turned on. This is where Sheikh Hamad bin Hamdan Al Nahyan keeps his vast personal collection of cars (over 200 according to Wiki), including some custom-made curiosities.

There is a giant Power Wagon (a pick-up truck designed as a pulling machine). It is eight times the size of a normal Power Wagon and has been set up with a series of bedrooms. It does actually move and can pull a giant globe (a replica of Earth, a million times smaller and with its own set of rooms within) that is sat outside the Pyramid garage. There is also his signature set of cars - seven Mercedes, each one decorated inside and out with a colour of the rainbow. There are so many cars, from tiny minis, a rainbow-painted Fiat 500 and a little Smart Car through to Firebirds, Cadillacs and Rolls Royces, military vehicles, dune buggies, 4 x 4s. It really is quite a collection.

You get the sense that as well as having a huge amount of disposable cash, the Rainbow Sheikh has a serious passion for cars and a great sense of humour.

I'll try to get some more pictures up when I get a chance.

2009

2008-12-31T17:16:00.009Z

Well it's a new year starting tomorrow and I'm really looking forward to this one!

I have been seeing a lovely man called Ed since September, which all came about because I moved house, because he is renting the room above me. He is tall, sexy, handsome, romantic, fit, intelligent, thoughtful, kind, considerate and fun. I am very much in love with him!

He has invited me to move in with him to our own place, in Spring/ Summer, which I'm really excited and happy about. The future seems bright and I'm hopeful that life is just getting better and better for me. He's even coming to meet my parents and sister in Dubai next month. I think they're going to like him as much as I do.

He says he would like to go travelling with me. I think I would really like that.

No New Years Resolutions this year because I feel pretty good about what I already do. I'm just enjoying what comes.

Congratulations to my lovely friend Zarah who gave birth to her new baby girl on Dec 19th by emergency C-section. After a difficult start, they are both doing well, with lots of much appreciated support from husband Kevin and their friends and family. I am so pleased for them!

30

2008-12-15T14:02:00.007Z

It's my birthday next Saturday and I'm excited because I'll be 30!

I'm having a tea party and invited some good friends. I guess some might be able to come :-) I've been neglecting some of them because I'm falling in love with this lovely man I'm seeing. But I hope they will forgive me and show up anyway!!

My boyfriend Ed is also cooking me dinner, taking me on a walk in Cornwall and meal out the day after. He is also taking me out to see a lecture at the university with his parents, about art and Dartmoor. Illustrator, Alan Lee, who created images for "Lord of the Rings" will be there, so I expect it will be good.

There's a chance my sister will come and see me. It's a long way for her to travel, but it would be great if she could make it. I love her so much - I don't see her as much as I'd like. I'd love her to visit.

Things Are Looking Up

2008-11-29T11:05:00.007Z

This is a photo of my Mum (right) with her sister (left) back home after her operation. She looks remarkably well for someone who has just had a tumour removed - if fact I'm not sure I've seen her smile so broadly for a long time! I think it must be a big relief to be out of hospital and I think she was very touched because my aunt flew out from Florida just to see her and be with her.

The surgeon said that the tumour was 2cm in size and he felt confident he had removed it all. We still need to find out if it is malignant. This is likely, but we are expecting to learn that it is a low grade, Oa or 1a. There are four grades of cancer, 1-4 and the higher the number, the more advanced and aggressive it is. So this would be good news.

Incidentally, would you believe that Mum is now in her sixties? She's very fit and trim.

Ma

2008-11-20T18:24:00.007Z

Uggh. My Mum had an operation today, on her kidney. They initially thought it was a kidney stone, but a couple of days ago the urologist had some doubts and she's been fast-tracked into surgery.

I understand that the operation seemed to go well and that she is feeling fine. Her sister is there, flown in from the States.

We don't know yet if it's cancer. It is hard not to be scared.

Sharpitor, Leather Tor and Burritor in Autum

2008-11-17T09:03:00.014Z

I love being out in the rugged, ancient landscape of Dartmoor.

It was a bright day, with the distant sun illuminating soft, warm oranges and golds. I climbed Sharpitor and walked to Leather Tor, climbed that, then followed the leat through Burritor, through the pine woods, along water-soaked logging trails and back to the road.

It was a steep climb to Sharpitor over haphazard clitter. At the top, I ate my lunch and took in the wonderful view. It was such a clear day, I could see the sea. As I continued, I passed dartmoor ponies huddling at the base of Leather Tor. I had a good climb over the clitter and tor there, enjoying the challenge of using my arms to lift myself up into granite crevices. I sat there for a while just enjoying the view and taking photos.

I headed down into Burrator, past some old trees coated with thick, green moss, into the pine woodland. I came across a sheep nibbling on grass in amongst the trees. Its wool coat was thick, making it seem very fat indeed. It seemed oblivious to the bramble it was carrying.

I reached the leat. The flowing water chimed and resonated. It was refreshing and energising, as if I had quenched a thirst I did not know I had. Onwards through the woods, past more ponies and suddenly so many mushrooms, lurking around roots and rotting logs. I flicked through my mushroom book, but couldn't tell what was what.

I noticed the light was fading. I was making slow process today, being much more interested in taking photos and investigating everything I came across. I couldn't resist stopping every time I came across an interesting mushroom or toadstool!!

The ground was getting increasingly boggy underfoot and I was struggling to find a way through. It was a race against the coming darkness. There are no bears or wolves in this part of the world, but still I felt my fear of getting lost in such a place at night. How easy it would be to get confused in the strange shadows! I finally found a narrow point of the stream and jumped, landing a little awkwardly so that my ankle turned over. It is the same ankle that I have sprained three times. It was not sprained this time, just a little sore.

I made it back to the car before the last of the light had faded, wondering at the beauty of this rugged place.

2 Weeks of Bliss

2008-10-27T11:35:00.009Z

It is so wonderful being off work for a couple of weeks. I can do whatever I want!
So far that has been:
sleeping in late
making dark chocolate and mango brownies with pine nuts, walnuts and brazil
making lavendar-scented candles with layers of purple and pink and real roses in them
making a huge pumpkin and mushroom soup
making Christmas cards
going for a (short) run
making plans to go and see my favourite singer-songwriter play in London
planning to visit the British Museum and an exhibition of 'Weird and Wonderful Inventions'
planning to have an Action Day with my best friend's husband - walking/ caves/ canoeing
inviting my friend and husband over for dinner
planning my friend's baby shower

Scratch n' Sniff

2008-10-17T22:18:00.005+01:00

I have been very excited about smells today. I bought some sandalwood incense from the Chinese shop on the Barbican and a mandarin orange soap in a tin from the Woollen Mill.

I think I have sniffed both items about 8 times each already. Yes! They still smell wonderful!

I have also forced other people to smell them as well and they complied, but perhaps that was just so they didn't upset me too much!

Far Away

2008-10-15T14:16:00.008+01:00

My family are far, far away. I try not to feel abandoned. After all, it was me who went far, far away from them many years ago. I put 5 and a half hours between them and me, just so that I could feel sure they wouldn't sneak up on me.

My parents are in the Middle East and my sister is in California.

Sometimes I want to fly away. But when you've moved a lot growing up, like I have, it feels important to stay still for a while, to establish a sense of home. I guess I might have got to the stage where I've internalised a sense of home, so that I could go anywhere and feel safe and stable and loved.

They are a good family these days. They write to me and tell me that they think about me, that they care. I do the same. We say what we really think. We look out for one another.

It's not bad really. Maybe they're not so far away, after all.

My New Friend

2008-10-15T13:16:00.005+01:00

I have a new friend who is tall with a mass of light brown, curly hair. He is very gentle and kind. We cook together and he makes me happy. He took me out riding in the woods and I was frightened, because I don't feel safe on bikes, but I feel safe with him so I did it. I even enjoyed some of it - zipping over the roots of trees!

He seems to like me just the way I am. He is a good artist and he says he likes my writing. He says he would like to illustrate one of my stories, so who knows, maybe he will! I would like to see how he draws the Moon Girl, whether she is beautiful in her despair and how he draws the moon (is it as strong and silent as I imagine?).

I feel happy today because there is someone I can share things with.

On Not Getting What You Want

2008-09-23T15:34:00.015+01:00

I didn't get the job. I am gutted. I've been in floods of tears. I cried myself to sleep and as I woke up I had this feeling that something was horribly wrong, before I even knew what it was, before I remembered.

I didn't get the job is that I performed poorly at interview. I performed poorly because I was sick.

My answers were vague and imcomplete. My mind kept going blank. I started wishing for the damn thing to be over. I was exhausted. I hadn't realised how much energy this would take.

Here are some learning points for myself re: Interviews.

1) Never go to an interview when you're sick - it's a waste of time!

2) Deal with anxiety by being prepared. Come up with a list of interview questions. Spend time preparing your answers and then practice with another person as interviewer (ideally in the same field) who can give you feedback on your performance.

3) Warm up by talking to someone before you get there.

4) Use formal language where possible - the vocabulary of your profession.

5) Smile, breathe and make good eye contact. Your performance is part of what you will be judged on. If there are a few of you with similar qualifications/ experience, this could make all the difference.

6) Get there early. You are going to be a bit nervous anyway - you don't need to be stressing about traffic or directions.

If the worst happens and you don't get the job, remember that you're not the only one to be hit by disappointment - it happens to all of us sometimes.

If this is what you really want, it won't matter too much that you didn't get it straight away. So what? Someone else got the job? Good for them. It will be your time before long.

Gently pick yourself up, gather strength and try again.

Keep On Trekking

2008-09-10T13:39:00.019+01:00

So, now that I'm single, I am free to focus on areas of my life I have had on a back burner.

For a long time now, I've wanted to earn more money by working as a counsellor. Finally, an opportunity has arrived at the centre that I volunteer at. It's a really exciting time. The job is part-time, only 10 hours a week, but it's something that could lead to more work or could be supplemented by private clients and other work.

What do you do? I'm a counsellor.

That's what I want to be able to say, instead of: "I earn my money as a support worker, but I'm also qualified as counsellor and I'm trying to build up by client base and get a job so that can become my main thing."

It's easier to say, for a start.

Well, as great as it is to focus on my career, I find it quite hard being single. It's hard not to feel lonely. My friendships seem more important; my job seems more important; my happiness seems more important. Otherwise, I don't know. My life is in flux, I guess.

There's this little voice that pipes up sometimes saying, You're 30 soon! What are you doing with your life? I get this sense of panic rising, that I should be in a loving relationship, that I should be having kids, that I should have a mortgage, that I should have my career path sorted!

I have to remember to stay calm and think of all the other folk I know who are making their way through life in the best way they know how, just like me. I have to remember that few people get to a point where they can say to themselves: this is 100% where I want to be.

It is better to be open to finding the right path than to be on the wrong one and too stubborn or frightened to change!

I need to get out for a long hike in the wilds, go canoeing, climb a mountain. Maybe that will remind me that I am strong and that there is great beauty in the world. It will also remind me that life is not always about what I did or what I'm going to do, but what I'm doing right now.

I need to remember to savour the moment. :-)

Maker Sunshine Festival

2008-08-09T17:37:00.014+01:00

I've got to be honest: I had pretty mixed feelings about going to this festival and it had nothing to do with the festival itself. I was nervous to be spending time with Ciarin so soon after we'd split. I needn't have worried; it was fine. He was friendly, but not awkward or overly intimate - a real gentleman, as ever. There were maybe 30 people there that I knew, so I didn't have to be around him and his friends (my friends, too, these days). However, I did enjoy his company and theirs. :-)

I did have a couple of 'moments'. I started sobbing just as Dreadzone came on! The music made me want to dance, but I felt a bit sad. The contrast made me feel disconnected from the moment. Fortunately, I was 'bundled' by three friends who hugged me fiercely and got me dancing. Before long, I was enjoying myself.

The truth is that I had a great festival. The festival itself is by no means large, but there's plenty going on - there's the Main Stage, the 2nd Stage, the Energy Rooms, The Cabaret Tent, the Bunkers and the Hemp Tent, plus a number of different hangouts - hookah pipes, cafes, tea shops, the firepit and a dome tent that welcomed all types of smokers. There were brave men and women performing the fire poi for our entertainment. I saw comedy acts (the delightful and very funny Totnes poet Matt Harvey), burlesque dancing (the unforgettable Miss Zelma du Noir) and some brilliant local bands live (sexy blues chick, Kat Marsh, the oh-so-pleasing dreadlocked Willie and the Bandits, the stomp-around, yes-they-play-everywhere-but-who-cares, Mad Dog McRae) as well as some from futher afield (The New York Ska and Jazz Ensemble, The Beat and, yes, Dreadzone). There was around 100 acts over four days, so there was lots I didn't see, but those were my favourites.

It was small enough not to get lost. Well, except for one foggy night when every tent looked remarkably like the next, especially sillouetted by bright lights near the Bunker. I got rather disorientated looking for my friends' tents, but not for long.

It did rain a lot, but that didn't stop the fun - so what if the sunshine was more a mindset than a reality! In fact, the deeper the mud got, the more it broke down my inhibitions - I was more free to accept myself for who I am (a muddy scruffbag!), kick back and relax.

I stayed awake dancing on Saturday night until 6:30am with a little help from my friends. We danced almost all the way through, starting from 8pm. More excercise than I'd had in ages! I reckon I came back from the festival fitter than before. Actually, though I did indulge in burgers, cakes and breakfast rolls, I also enjoyed lots of salad and fruit and I managed to stay off tobacco, so pretty good all round.

Leaving involved negotiating seriously muddy roads in my Ford Focus. I kept my momentum going and though I slid around in a somewhat alarming fashion, I wasn't one of the unlucky stuck.

On the way back into civilisation, we stopped at the Co-op in Torpoint. In that moment, we realised 1) that the world had continued without us quite successfully as evidenced by numerous newspapers 2) it was no longer acceptable to speak to random strangers and ask if they were having a good time 3) it was slightly frowned upon to be covered with mud, in need of a good bath and have unbrushed hair.

When I got home, I realised the car was splattered with mud as if I'd had a fight with an enraged hippo. There was so much mud glued into the wheel arches, I easily scraped off a carrier bag's worth.

I've left the car muddy just as a reminder of the fun I had (well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it!). ;-)

If you want to know more about the Maker Sunshine festival, here's a link to their myspace. They also have a main website. I can't seem to link that one, but you can always google it :-)

http://www.myspace.com/makerfestival

A Good Move

2008-07-27T23:51:00.012+01:00

News - I'm going to move house.

There's a place just round the corner with other young professionals. Here's the advert pretty much as it was, except I couldn't help putting the first "i" back in Victorian. Doesn't it sound good?

Rooms to rent in Lovely Victorian House

Great sized, fully furnished quiet rooms in shared house. House has undergone recent refurb to include fully fitted kitchen with integrated double oven, hob, extractor and dishwasher. 2x Fridge & Freezer. Slate floor in kitchen and polished wood flooring throughout all other rooms. Communal LCD TV included. Downstairs shower cubicle with blue mosaic and concealed shower. WC.

Beautiful original stairwell with crystal chandalier and stained glass door. Main bathroom with contemporary styled bowl sink, WC, bath with large head shower & chromed towel radiator. Fully DG & GCH. Spotlights throughout to add to the contemporary feel whilst retaining original features such as feature fireplaces in all rooms.

Outside is a decked area with table & chairs and parking for 1 car. Free parking in street. Wireless broadband. Rent includes Electric, Gas & Water.

Working Pro's only. No pets, DSS, Smokers.

I'm really happy about this. I've been to look at the place and I like the feel of it straight away. I think it will be a good move. I only met one housemate, but he seemed sound. A guy called Jon, a photograpner. He said, "You're the kind of person we'd like to have here." So guess he felt the same way. It will be a good move for me:

1) Meeting new people
2) Having a bigger room with a desk and more space
3) Having an indoor washing machine (!)
4) A fresh start, but not far from 'home'
5) I'll even have a cleaner!

I've got just under 3 weeks to pack up and move over, but it is literally 2 streets away from where I am now, so not too much of a hassle I reckon!

Things To Make Me Happy

2008-07-24T14:20:00.021+01:00

Quick blog today just to recommend a music video from the fabulous Fatlab "Things To Make Me Happy" which you can watch for yourself if you click on the video in the top right of this blog (there's two; click on the one with Becky playing on a tree stump!). I can't help listening to it obsessively at the moment!! Fatlab are an unsigned band describing themselves as comedy/ alternative. This song is less strange and more accessible than most.

They live here in Devon, England and they do have a myspace. Click on the link below. If you do check out any of their other tunes/ videos, try not to be frightened by "Teddy" or the "Black Mouse of Doom". MWA HA HA!

http://www.myspace.com/fatlabtastic

Au Revoir

2008-07-23T15:03:00.007+01:00

I brought his things over to the boat. I came to say good-bye.

I felt better after speaking with him. I felt that actually he knew too that the break up was absolutely the right thing: probably we should have done it a while ago, but the truth is we weren't ready until we were ready. Well, truthfully, it took some stupid incident to push us in the right direction. As he says, it was a catalyst for what needed to happen.

He has been very sure about one thing: that he wants us to be friends if possible. I didn't think that was a good idea, but I listened and thought about it. You know what, maybe it could work. It would be lovely to keep some of the connection we've had with one another - one that his been built out of truth and respect and care. I came to say good-bye, but ended up saying Au Revoir - see you later.

I feel I am in the process of finding my feet again. (I literally had trouble with this on Sunday after meeting Esther Rantzen - lost my balance and fell into an oak bench. I have the most wonderful, dappled, red and purple bruise.)

My mind is clearer, my heart less heavy.

2008-07-17T23:53:00.009+01:00

I split up with Ciarin.

I am strong, much stronger than I have been. I know exactly how I feel and it's much better than I would have expected. Suddenly, the balance tipped over and my situation has gained great clarity.

I've been up on Dartmoor with Zarah, her partner Kevin, and my Mum this evening, picking bilberries.

Zarah and Mum have already been deciding on the qualities that my future boyfriend should have. They are like witches, making a spell, stirring up their cauldron. They say he is just around the corner, that he will meet me soon, that he has been waiting for me. They pick bilberries and they are talking about this man I will meet while their pots get higher. The berries stain their fingers blue. They pick and they talk about me.

I smile and listen. I feel full of how much they care about me.

"When do you think she will meet him?"
"Within six months."
"Yes, that's what I thought. And he will be loving and respectful."
"Oh yes, very important. And he will be affluent and money-wise."
"Yes, he will have a trade that is always in demand, so that he can support her even when times are hard."
"He will adore Charlie."
"Yes. And he will appreciate how loving she is."
"He will be adventurous."
"Adventurous, yes, but not crazy. He will have a good family and they will be very pleased that he has found someone so wonderful. They will welcome her."
"That will be nice for her."
"He will be comfortable in social situations."
"Yes."

They go on.

"He will be a wonderful cook and love cooking with her."
"Mmm. He will know when she needs to get out for a walk, when she's a bit fed up."
"He will have a nice home, perhaps with Moroccan wood and cushions with red silk in the bedroom!"
"Mmm. He will be worldly and exotic."
"He will be a wonderful dancer."
"Yes! He will be attractive, but not arrogant."
"He will be faithful."
"True."

We move on to a better patch with bigger, juicier berries. The tops of our fingers are purple with the juice.

"He will become interested in some of the things that she is interested in. She will become interested in some of the things that he is."
"He will support Charlie in her career."
"He will be an inspiration."
"He will be wonderful in bed!"
"He will know himself."
"He will take care of her."
"He will make her feel special."

I taste some of the berries we are picking. They are just right. My ears are focused on what they say next.

"I was wondering... do you think he's had a relationship before?"
"He may have had other relationships, but he doesn't have any baggage."
"Ah, yes. She won't have to worry about her relationship at all; it will just be taken care of."

"How old will this wonderful man be?"
"He might be in his mid-thirties. And when he meets her, he will know she is what he wants!"
"He will be ready to settle down."
"He will ask Charlie to move into his lovely house."
"How long before they get married?"
"He will ask her to marry him within two years - they will both know that this is what they want to do much sooner though and they will talk about it."
"And he will ask her how many children she wants to have!"
"They will have children, but it won't limit their lifestyle very much. They'll still do adventurous things."
"Yes. He may or may not be academic, but he will be able to share ideas."

"They might meet unexpectedly - a chance encounter - something unconventional."
"That sounds just right."

I am feel valued and appreciated by my best friend and my mother. While I do not know if such magic thinking really works, I am happy to believe it may. I feel hopeful; I feel that anything could happen and why shouldn't it be wonderful?

They have taken all the best qualities and attributes and conjured together a magical man who would give me everything I want and need to be really, deeply fulfilled and happy right down to my toes.

Enlightenment in Swampy Sandals

2008-07-07T21:24:00.006+01:00

Well, life continues as normal. For me that means cancelling a canoeing trip with friends, because it's too damn stormy. Instead, I head out to an alternative spiritual show out on a field that is normally a racecourse. I'm not hugely into hippy-dippy spiritual stuff, but I'm interested. I try to enter with an open mind. I guess I've experienced a few strange things that seem to go beyond mere coincidence, things that can't be explained - nor explained away.

The weather is pretty powerful and I am so glad we decided not to head out in our little canoes. We really would be at the mercy of the elements. I optimistically wear my 'action sandals', because I've become used to wearing open shoes through the summer and at least these have a good tread if it's a bit muddy. Actually, it's so wet the ground is saturated and swamplike that my feet are wet through. It's so windy, the outside stalls seem very much in danger of becoming airbourne and the ones that have instruments take on a rhythm of their own.

Despite that, I have an interesting time, including a deep and meaningful with my friend's Mum, who seem to have a breakthrough while we were talking to her. My friend - who seems far more intuitive than me with crystals - chooses a couple that she thinks will be helpful to me. A blue-grey calcite and a rose-quartz stick. They seem gentle, revitalising and kind.

Later that night, I read my friend's Mum's tarot for her - using a book to make sense of the symbols. The cards seem to have a message for her that fits with the deep and meaningful we had earlier. I fall asleep with the rose quartz crystal in my hand.

Ciarin, meanwhile, rides his bike with mates through Cornwall. But the weather makes the trip much more hazardous and less fun. I am relieved and happy to see him. I get the sense of someone who knows me so well and loves me easily. His beard is starting to take shape. It has definition and form. I see someone who is deep-rooted and powerful, who doesn't apologise for who they are. This makes me feel proud of him and happy.

He has toothache and I try fixing it with a bit of hands-on healing. I don't know if I help him, but I end up restless and sick myself. Perhaps it backfired. ;-)

My Mother-To-Be Friend

2008-06-26T10:51:00.012+01:00

My beautiful friend is four months' pregnant and she is glowing. The midwife says her bump is impressively big, the sign of a healthy baby. She has reached the stage of needing to wear maternity clothes, trousers with large elasticated waistbands. Her husband is working on 'the porch' - an extension to the house which will allow a bit of extra room for when Baby is here. There is plenty to do.

Still, we all find time to go for a walk in the woods past a huge variety of dogs (cocker spaniel, golden retriever, sausage dog, dalmatian, plus some like small bears, sporting long strings of saliva) and their owners.

We plough through a catalogue and look at the paraphenalia of motherhood - breast pumps, breast pads and special clothes that allow easy, discreet breast-feeding (though some of them just look wrong - fleeces with velcro nipple flaps, rugby-style shirts with nipple buttons).

She has decided to buy terry towel nappies and other washable nappies rather than contribute to the landfill with more rubbish. She thinks she will need 30 nappies, and has 10 so far. I said that I would buy her a few really nice cloth nappies which her baby could use on special occasions perhaps. I want her to know that I'm there for her and will help as much as I can. She is lucky that both her parents and her husband's parents live nearby and will all help out in their own way. She points out that she has joined the 'mummies' club' - other mothers have welcomed her into the clan. She will be someone new to share experiences with.

I hear the news that the family from my friends' wedding have a new addition. Mum had a third baby girl and all seems well.

So how do I feel? Well, I am genuinely happy for my beautiful friend - she is happily married and I love them both very much. Each new stage she reaches will bring out my love for her, curiosity about her life experience and, no doubt, plenty more self-reflection.

I See Pregnant Women

2008-06-12T13:13:00.007+01:00

When there's something on your mind, you see it everywhere. It haunts you.

Maybe you know what I mean - when your heart is in tatters, every song on the radio is a sad one, every advert makes you bawl.

I see pregnant women everywhere. I see couples with wedding rings, going on honeymoons, signing up for mortgages, taking their kids to school.

It was so hard being at my friends' wedding last Saturday watching these two beautiful little girls, the younger one hopping around on the dance floor with a helium balloon, while Mum and Dad looked on. Now I know it's just a snapshot and it's all quite idealised, but I loved watching them. I don't know the parents that well, but they seemed to really love their girls. They were keeping a good distance - they were there in case they were needed, but not interfering. Mum was heavily pregnant again with their third child.

Before I might have thought: "one day that might be me" and smiled, wondering how I'd cope and what my experience would be. Instead, I thought: "I don't know if that will ever be me". I felt tremendously sad. I found myself sobbing (only two glasses of wine, so it wasn't just the booze). Zarah (now 3 months pregnant) put her arm around me and then Ciarin came to see if I was okay. I told him why I was crying. I then made a swift exit to the car, because I couldn't face being so sad in front of everyone. I didn't want to ruin the celebrations. He came and he sat with me while I cried, talked and cried some more. He was patient and I felt no pressure to pretend or to change how I was feeling. Nor did he didn't try to distract me or 'fix' what was wrong. He was just there for me. One of many things I love dearly about him.

Ciarin is really well suited to me: he's extremely kind, thoughtful, relaxed, insightful, easy to be around, great company. But that's what makes it so hard when I think about our future together. I don't want to give him up.

It's easy for people to say that I should split up with him to avoid the heartache a few years down the line. "I know it's hard, but why couldn't he stay in your life as a good friend instead?" I could split up with him and look for someone else to settle with. I know I could find someone if I wanted to, but I don't want anyone else. I don't want to be without him. I would be missing out on a very special, honest and warm connection, not to mention the promise of good company on a grand adventure. I know I can't do everything in my life, that I have to make choices about what I want most - career, family or adventure - but I'm not ready to throw anything away just yet, not until I'm sure.

Unless he changes his mind, it seems like I have a choice to make. But I'm not ready to make it. Until I know clearly what to do, I will just be carrying on. I feel sure that the right answer will become clear before long. Life has a way of forcing an answer when things are uncertain. I just hope that it's not unbearably painful when it comes.

Coffee Beans and Sailing Dreams

2008-05-20T13:58:00.017+01:00

So, Ciarin and I are back together and things are going well. I love him so much. It's been a year now since we first started seeing each other.

There is a nagging thought about how it's all going to fit together, but I am letting go for now. So long as we keep working towards our respective goals and so long as we want to be together, we will find a way forward. I have faith.

More and more, I dream about adventuring and being on the sea with him. More and more, it seems possible. I can see the sails leaning into the wind. I hold my head up high so that my hair is pulled off my face and trails behind me. The air is salty and my cheeks are windwhipped. I can feel the boat swaying and nudging its way along. We are going somewhere. The journey is in progress. I dream I have found my sea legs, no longer sickened by the movement.

When I last visited his boat, it was as if I'd seen it for the first time. Not just an awkward place to live, but somewhere with the potential for movement, grace and power.

I gave him a gift for his birthday that makes him smile - a baseball cap that says CAPTAIN. Cheesy, I know, but it suits him. He is currently growing a Bluto-like beard that seems fitting. Perhaps he is feeling more like the Captain of his own 34-foot sailing ketch.

My own, more immediate, dream of being a counsellor is also just about ripe for the picking after years of time, effort, energy and process. Later this week, I will have my first on-line advertisement and I'm proud of that. Soon, too, there will be a website. I am lucky to have plenty of help. Ciarin will be making the site with help from his mentor, Mark.

*******

Last Saturday I helped on a stall at the Devon County Show promoting Fair Trade, something I feel quite strongly about. I enjoyed giving out free Fair Trade chocolate samples. I put a lot of smiles on people's faces! It was good fun, though I was exhausted by the end.

*******

Last night, I watched the docu-film, Black Gold. It really doesn't seem fair that coffee producers get such a raw deal, while their coffee is sold in the West for so much. Why should the farmers and other labourers go without basic food, shoes and schoolteachers, while coffee companies in the West make an absolute fortune? Why has the amount paid for coffee to growers gone down in the last thirty years while the cost of coffee in the West has gone up? It feels so disrespectful, so wrong.

Well, the coffee beans looked beautiful in the film, being grown, picked, sorted, roasted, ground and tasted. I found myself going to my local Co-op today and buying some Fair Trade coffee - even though I don't normally drink the stuff!

Childhood Ponderings

2008-04-06T22:00:00.004+01:00

I've been thinking a lot about my childhood. It's something that I've thought about a lot over the years. My perspective has changed over time. The reason it's been on my mind recently is because Ciarin has said he is uncertain about being a Dad because there are certain things he wouldn't want to repeat.

Well, I certainly understand where he's coming from.

I'm very happy with my life now and have good relationships with my family, but it hasn't always been that way.

The last years at home were the worst. As a family, we had been through a lot – three bereavements and moving back to the UK after years away. We went through all the symptoms of culture shock returning to our home country. We had a lot to get used to. This was a time of transition, where I was supposed to be to gaining independence. This appeared to be in opposition to my parents, who seemed to feel that the teenage world I was exploring was threatening/ dangerous.

In reality, I was far more sensible than many of my peers. Perhaps I didn't convey this very well to my parents, who seemed very fearful about what would become of me. I felt misunderstood. We argued a lot and no one was willing to back down. I grew tired of hearing about my mother’s sleepless nights, where she was tossing and turning in worry for me.

I was depressed and had no idea what to do to make things better. Some people make suicide pacts. I made pacts with myself to keep living, just three more days and after that, just three more days. My approach for improving the situation was just to wait it out. I had no idea how I’d ended up feeling like this, so it was hard to know what could help. I was cutting my wrists with knives and scissors. This seemed to help my frustration and ‘cut through’ my feelings of dread and numbness. I was quite unable to focus on my studies and despite having a history as an excellent student, I failed my A’levels and spent a miserable year doing them again.

When I left home at 18, I wasn't ready. Although there was a sense of relief that I'd made it out of home, I was numb and terrified, too. I had little idea how to look after myself. I had a lot of learning to do. Some of this learning was practical - how to cook, how to pay bills, how to drive. But there was other things too.

I needed to heal, release lingering self-doubts, and unlearn ways of being in the world that no longer helped me. I wasn’t sure how to begin, but I read a lot of self-help books! I wrote down my thoughts. I got counselling. I befriended people who had qualities that I admired and studied them hard, trying to adopt their ways of being. I read books on Parenting, Psychology, Sociology, Progressive Education. It isn’t so surprising that this led on to training to be a counsellor myself, since this gave me the opportunity to discuss theory, undertake more counselling, begin journal-writing and group therapy. I was honouring a pledge I had made to myself when I was still at home: If I ever make it out of here, I’ve got to get better.

And things did get better. I learnt to relax and play. I learnt how to get my needs met and to be real with people. I healed and then I blossomed. Several times, I worked on problem areas, got knee-deep into the pain and allowed things to fall apart so they could settle down in a new formation. I learnt how to trust people. I developed firm, intimate friendships rather than rotating a circle of acquaintances. I began to trust myself and trust the people I cared about. I learnt how to ask for help and get my needs met.

I wanted to get better for myself, but also because I knew I wanted kids one day. I wanted to pass on this emotional learning onto my children. My parents wanted me to grow up to be a morally sound person and I think they achieved that. I want to do that and something else too: I want my children to know how to manage their feelings. There is always a risk that I could repeat the unconscious experiences of childhood, but I hope that I have reduced this risk as much as possible through the work I have done.

I think my parents really wanted my sister and I to have a much warmer, more supportive experience than they themselves had, but they lacked the tools to do this. When they became stressed and anxious, they naturally reverted back to their old ways of being - the more punishing, more emotionally deprived experience of their own upbringing.

I’ve thought long and hard about what sort of parent I would hope to be. The following ideas feel important:

I don’t want to hit my kids. (Really, what do we teach children if we hit them - that it's okay to be aggressive/ that you can’t trust people?)

I would like my children to feel that they can trust me and themselves.

I want my children to be able to think for themselves as much as possible. I would like to help them come to their own opinions.

I would like my children to have plenty of choice about the things that matter to them, but for these choices to be informed by their thoughts/ research/ discussions with us. I would intervene if I thought they were at undue risk.

I would want my children to feel safe.

I would like my children to feel that they could ask for help and know that they could get it.

I would like my children to feel a sense of belonging and acceptance.

I would like my children to develop a feeling of pride and self-worth.

I would like my children to feel loved.

I would like my children to feel that it’s okay to be themselves.

I would like my children to know that we all make mistakes sometimes and the important thing is what you do after you've made the mistake - taking steps to put things right if appropriate and learn from what has happened.

I now have a pretty balanced, happy relationship with both of my parents these days, which is brilliant. We've come a long way.

Lost Dreams

2008-03-31T20:17:00.004+01:00

This has been the worst day in a long, long time. I have just split up with someone I love completely.

Everyone who knows the two of us says we're great together, that we seem really happy. He's respectful, kind, generous, warm, loyal. He is uncomplicated; no strange undercurrents. Genuine. What You See Is What You Get. Someone you could rely on in a storm. A good guy, would help someone out if he could. He has old school values, in that he would urge people to do the right thing in any given situation and he looks for a solution that benefits everyone.

He is a man with a dream. He wants to sail a boat around the world. He's already got the boat. He is still paying it off and except for this Winter when he spent most of his time at mine, he was living in it. In a boatyard. In dry dock.

I would have gone on that adventure with him when he left. We'd have cracked a bottle of champagne at the launch party and played lots of songs like 'Sailing Away' and 'Ship to Shore' and 'Message in a Bottle' and lots of pirate songs. Then we'd have sailed off together and explored the world. It would be the trip of a lifetime, stopping at all sorts of strange ports and inlets, meeting people, tasting strange food and seeing strange sights. We'd have drifted along happily, tanning well and searching the world for a place to explore and settle. Then, we would have had many children and they would all grow up to be tanned and tall and we would all be very happy together.

Well, at least, that's how I saw it. But of course, it's his dream and although he was pleased to have a lovely lady like myself in his life, he hadn't envisioned any sprogs. Ok, so I'm 30 this year and I hope I've got perhaps ten childbearing years left. So how long will the boat adventure take? We're looking at 4-8 years before we can set sail and who knows how long the adventure itself will take? I suddenly realised that I had to know if he was prepared to even consider kids. After 3 days of hell, he said, clearly, calmly and reasonably: no, he would not have children with me.

He says that he's wanted to sail around the world for as long as he can remember. I wouldn't dream of trying to stop that. In fact, I would actively encourage for him to pursure that, if that's what makes him happy. I would have come along for the adventure just because I love him and I think we'd make a great team.

But then I have my own dream - and it's fairly ordinary. I always knew I'd be a mother one day. I knew that as a woman, I was capable of being pregnant and giving birth. The human body is amazing. The woman's internal organs shift up to make room for the baby to grow inside her womb. The baby grows inside, unseen yet slowly making its presence known. The baby's head squishes up to make its way out of the birth canal. After birth, the placenta is born too and some people eat this - perhaps the only semi-acceptable opportunity to be a cannibal. The mother produces milk for the baby and it provides everything the baby needs nutritionally and even contains antibodies that protects the baby from disease.

I have always known the importance of a man in such a relationship, who's duty is to love and protect his family when the baby is small and as the child gets older and is ready to be introduced to the wider world, he can lead the way.

I could never imagine being a single mum. I could never imagine being a career woman who choses work over family. In nearly a decade of care work and counselling, I have spent time looking after people and meeting their needs. I want to put those skills to good work on someone I really care about. I want to create a new family. It's common enough, but still one of the greatest adventures. I can't accept the idea of not having that. It was with huge sadness that I have to speak my truth - that without the possibility of children, it's over.

4 Kinds of Cloud

2008-03-19T14:37:00.007Z

It's been a long night.

Technically, it's daytime now, but my body clock has gone into another dimension. For me, the sight of bright sunshine is surreal. Earlier, coming back from the hospital, I nearly swerved into a parked car, but I felt calm and peaceful. I had one of those peak moments where I felt like I'd really been present to something special. I wondered if anyone else in the city had seen what I had: that there were four types of cloud in the sky.

One was airy cirrhus, a horse-tail flick so high up that no one could touch it. Below that was a neat, light formation of clouds that looked like the ridge and furrows of a freshly ploughed field. Below that, were cumulous clouds, fat cauliflower heads, looked full and comfortable. And last of all , there was a fine, even, unformed cloud like a breath that appeared to be gaining strength, bit by bit.

The weather recently has been strange: where I live had experienced the lowest air pressure for 50 years which drew in some mighty storms - 80 m.p.h winds, flooding and wild waves along coastal areas. Somehow, looking at those clouds, I felt as though I was seeing the aftermath to all that - the breakthrough that comes after stormy times.

You've got to understand that before the glory of the clouds, I'd had a terrible night's work. It's a Sleep In, so you're supposed to be able to sleep - though ,occasionally if someone is anxious or unwell, you might need to work for a bit of the night.

The client I was supporting had the worst kind of diarrhoea - pure liquid shit - and it was splattered on carpet, floor, round the toilet, in clothing, down her leg and back, in her bedding and on the sofa. The foul stench thickened the air and made me heave.

The worst thing was that we didn't have enough gloves (one red rubber left-handed glove and some ancient vinyl gloves that split as we tried to put them on). Also, she'd used up a whole roll of toilet tissue, so had nothing left to wipe herself. It was 3am and I had no idea where might be open to sell us rubber gloves and toilet paper. Even with this, she would have nothing to wear and no bed linen.

Eventually, after a few heated phone calls, we were able to get some help.

With the right tools, we could set to work on getting her and anywhere she'd come near cleaned up. Windows were opened and the smell was disguised with air freshener, the sweetness of vanilla making the job bearable. The only thing we couldn't manage was to scrub the carpets, but I tried not to think about that. My boss could figure something out in the next day or so. I'd done my share.

I was shattered.

I went home to learn that my housemate had suffered 2 seizures, gone into hospital and had one more. She needed a change of clothes, so I headed up to the hospital. I was relieved to see that she was doing okay. It was on the way back that I noticed the bright sky and four kinds of cloud; the sorts of clouds that come after a storm.

Funny how after the darkest hour, we can still be struck by beauty and light and promise of new things.