Friday, 8 January 2010
05:58 | Posted by
Dale Darley |
I guess that a 2 year old dog, previously homed in Fulham, has possibly never seen snow before.
Wednesday I dressed up warmly for the deep white stuff that surrounded our house and coaxed a unhelpful Ferdy into his lead.
He gingerly stepped out into the snow, then sniffed and sniffed, bounded and ran head long into it.
The walk to the park was littered with Heel Ferdys and a look on his face that said but mum its snow, me play me play!!! And very probably you old cow.
In the park I let Ferdy free, it was such fun watching him race around in the fresh untouched snow, galloping towards me, skidding to a halt, turning around and dashing in another direction.
The best bit was playing snowballs. He chased and leaped at every snowball and the look of total confusion on his face when is 'ball' disappeared was priceless.
So much fun, wish I had filmed it.
Wednesday I dressed up warmly for the deep white stuff that surrounded our house and coaxed a unhelpful Ferdy into his lead.
He gingerly stepped out into the snow, then sniffed and sniffed, bounded and ran head long into it.
The walk to the park was littered with Heel Ferdys and a look on his face that said but mum its snow, me play me play!!! And very probably you old cow.
In the park I let Ferdy free, it was such fun watching him race around in the fresh untouched snow, galloping towards me, skidding to a halt, turning around and dashing in another direction.
The best bit was playing snowballs. He chased and leaped at every snowball and the look of total confusion on his face when is 'ball' disappeared was priceless.
So much fun, wish I had filmed it.
Its 5:09 and I have been awake since 3:39. When I tried to sleep thoughts wandered aimlessly into my mind.....
Outputs for today's meeting, things to improve the spreadsheet, will the house contracts be ready today, what's on the news, I must stop eating crap, how can I stop eating crap, I need a swish, should have bought my gym kit to the hotel, better do some Pilates later, should I go to Pilates on Sat before I head to Bridgend, shall I give Tuesday to Simon or wait for Mike and Debbie to reply, better bring the scales back to Newport, and on and on.......
To stop the brain whirring and crashing I got up and turned on my computer to tackle my priority, prep for today's meeting, that's now completed. Other emails are sent and now I am tired and bored, however there is brightness in my life, I have remembered that I have Earl Grey tea in my purse. I have no idea why. It makes me happy to know that I don't have to wring out the dregs of the Tetleys that has been left in my room.
When my mind zig zags into chaos there is always EGT.......................
Its the simple things in life that bring so much pleasure to me.
Later when I get home there will be a wagging tail with my slipper grasped with intent in his slobbery mouth. He will run around like a loony eventually racing upstairs to await me. Then and only then can I get my kiss and cwtch from my man.
A cup of tea, we will chat.
Simple things.
Outputs for today's meeting, things to improve the spreadsheet, will the house contracts be ready today, what's on the news, I must stop eating crap, how can I stop eating crap, I need a swish, should have bought my gym kit to the hotel, better do some Pilates later, should I go to Pilates on Sat before I head to Bridgend, shall I give Tuesday to Simon or wait for Mike and Debbie to reply, better bring the scales back to Newport, and on and on.......
To stop the brain whirring and crashing I got up and turned on my computer to tackle my priority, prep for today's meeting, that's now completed. Other emails are sent and now I am tired and bored, however there is brightness in my life, I have remembered that I have Earl Grey tea in my purse. I have no idea why. It makes me happy to know that I don't have to wring out the dregs of the Tetleys that has been left in my room.
When my mind zig zags into chaos there is always EGT.......................
Its the simple things in life that bring so much pleasure to me.
Later when I get home there will be a wagging tail with my slipper grasped with intent in his slobbery mouth. He will run around like a loony eventually racing upstairs to await me. Then and only then can I get my kiss and cwtch from my man.
A cup of tea, we will chat.
Simple things.
Thursday, 7 January 2010
I am standing quite still, looking. I am the eye of the storm, calm. Around me madness. Bright colours whizz by, people, problems. They are calling my name, which way to turn? My body like a statue, tall and firm, like a rock, unyielding. Hands reach out and touch me, help me they cry. My eyes turn side to side, watching, blue, green, red, black, brown, faster and faster. Arms by my side, I don’t reach out, but someone touches me, too late. Their essence like a spiders web clings to me, wraps itself around me. Their voices, sad, pitiful, lonely, whispers in my ears. I didn’t mean it, it wasn’t me, them, its always them. The words drift in and out. I make soothing sounds, I am the voice of reason, sense and kindness. In my brain the alarm is triggered, escape, how can I escape? Body rigid, trapped, mind says run, run as fast as you can. The eyes look deep into my soul, don’t go. Go, go, let me go. Grief, sadness, sorrow, dumped, they are gone. I am standing quite still, the storm has gone, for now.
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
It's the house, I need it to complete this week. The ex is being a bit odd but in a strange way it seems its the catalyst to ending it all. Well when I say ending it all I mean that he gets his cash I get mine and then I work with the new owner to sort out some final bits of legal things. Which is fine, except the ex gets away once again with doing as little as possible and contributing even less.
My life is wonderful.
During 2009 I was offered an opportunity to go on a course and so chose an ILM level 7 certificate in executive coaching and mentoring. Being a sucker for the hardest of everything, I thought mmm this will stretch me.
All was well until I was made redundant and the very kind Welsh Assembly Government gave me some cash to retrain and I chose to become an NLP practitioner,
Let me tell you doing 2 courses that require you to go out and practise (with humans) and write detailed assignments and diary is not easy. Especially when your dog often whines for a walk and puts his whole face on your books or computers.
I am a rude studier, leave me alone or else. I learnt however, that the Ferdy face in my face meant time for a break. I took my breaks but it naffed me off, I had my head in something and I wanted to complete it.
To add insult to injury my gorgeous new man kept talking to me.
So doubly disturbed everything just took so long!
I looked back to 1994 and studying for the last year (of 3) of my MBA. Recently separated, divorce pending, new man in my life. Whoa, echoes here. This one though didn't talk much, he left me to it and did his thing. Which seemed great at the time. Time passes and when I was decorating the house I am now trying to sell, he left me too it and did his own thing. Do we (or is that me) ever learn?
In 2009 I wrote a note to the universe with a picture of a stick man. All of the attributes, I thought I wanted in a man were on this paper. With my girlfriends we conducted a letter to the universe session.
The session led my me was along the lines of drink lots of wine, write what you want in a positive way on a piece of paper shaped like a man and burn it. Not only that write a short story about forgiveness and burn that.
Mine was easy I wanted the perfect, for me, man. They wanted to forgive their exes. They burned and stamped, I sat smiled and waited, drunkenness is a marvellous thing for removing your inhibitions.
I wasn't expecting the man who did come into my life. We had met the year before and I kept getting cold feet. The cold feet didn't stop me fancying him like mad and sending the odd drunken email.
After the burning ceremony, he turned up. That's not entirely true, fed up with rubbish dates, I asked him out, just expecting a casual romance with no strings. Bugger me I fell in love.
Here we are 2010 man, dog, 3 chickens and back to working for myself.
Life is wonderful.
So you want to know me eh?
1. I like to draw/paint naked people (canvas or paper not their bodies)
2. I once wore my new red shoes to bed as I loved them so much
3. In 2009 re pierced my ears after doing it at 13 with a frozen sausage and needle
4. I will help anyone BUT they have to want to help themselves first
5. When I give my heart I give it totally
6. The first band I saw was Ian Dury and The Blockheads at 19 in Sophia Gardens
7. I was expelled from school but now have an MBA, and a load of other qualifications, I am a real girly swot now
8. I have a devil tattoo on my shoulder but I am really an angel
9. My first cat was called Bert Watkins from Planet Earth
10. I can sew and own a sewing machine, I cut a dress out over 6 years ago and its still waiting to be sewn together
11. I love to roll down grassy hills
12. I believe that we walk this earth many times learning our lessons, but I don’t know where we go when our bodies die
13. I HATE being told what to do
14. If you want to control something, find something with a knob on it and leave me alone
15. I once took all my clothes off for a stop on in a pub
16. I let my furry alarm clock sleep with me
17. I am in the middle of writing 2 books and looking for inspiration
18. I want to do something worthwhile that benefits people less fortunate than me that really makes a difference before I die
19. I can knit and used to knit a jumper a week when mohair jumpers were in fashion
20. I love cabbage and gravy, with my favourite meal roast beef, Yorkshire pud, with horse radish
21. My first car was a beige beetle with an orange wing
22. My first big bike was a Triumph Trident 750 but my favourite was my Ducati 600SS
23. I am an morning person, I love the sense that a new start is dawning
24. I don’t eat pork, prawns or pasta
25. I hate to be trapped inside and just adore walking around this beautiful country
He drags me to the pond and then if by magic opens his bowels and gives me one of his finest poohs, watched by a crowed of boys.
The boys champion, far enough away from me so that I can't kick him up the arse, shouts 'shit picker'. He friends now brave enough to join the chorus collaborate with the tubby one in a grey tracksuit. Not being one to keep quiet I shout back, something innocent and silly really... 'what you would rather me leave it in the park?'
Oh and if I did......
They then chanted at me and the fat brave one shouts 'I am going to shag your daughter'. 'Sorry mate' I shout 'I don't have a daughter'.
Eh, am I as thick as them? Then I suddenly realise that I am closer to 50 than 15 and I should just let the ignorant kids shout at me.
For a fleeting moment I saw myself as the saviour of stupid kids, shake myself down, have a giggle and carry on my way. I was of course young and horrible once!
But just for fun after I walked around the pond and park headed back towards them, this time with my gob shut!!!!
Despite the passing of time, they somehow remembered that I picked up my dog shit and off they went. I smiled. Twats!
Sunday, 22 November 2009
The voice belongs to a 50 something bimbette. Blond hair threatened into place frames the face with gold clad bulging eyes and pink lipsticked mouth, out of which comes the ceaseless noise. I wonder why it never stops, endless mumbles which get louder when it wants us to snap to attention.
Too many years of loud music have rendered me somewhat hard of hearing. I always tell the voice I wasn’t aware that it was addressing me, so that I don’t have to be drawn into its shapeless world.
The voice troubles me, I can’t place its owner who lives in Bristol but doesn’t have that West Country twang. There’s a falseness, its hiding its origins, I know because, because is becoorse.
I learn to hate the voice, it criticizes my clothes, tucks me in and its hands touch my body uninvited. Its only been sending shrill messages for a week and I already need to escape. The pink hole is open more than it is shut and after a short while I move my desk to the other side of the room, for some much needed peace. The voice mutters under its breath only to rise to a nasty hiss when it demands ‘how dare I move’ it snarls and threatens me.
It’s too late I lose my temper; its snotty falseness grates me. The voice has landed on a nerve and jars me; the code imprinted on the ganglia, bullets in place the voice pulls the trigger. I can never hear it again without the bile rising.
Its another day, I am deliberately ignoring it. It rises higher lamenting the journey to work, no one is listening, the monkey screeches louder as if to declare ‘you will listen to me’. We all, my colleagues and I continue to tap tap on our computers; no one lifts their eyes, for to catch its eye will give it life. Its stops, silence, but the lingering echo wraps itself around each of us, rubbing harsh salt into our ears. I daren’t look up, until the extra tap tap of its keyboard is added to ours.
Eventually my bladder betrays me and I try to sneak across the uncarpeted room, past its desk. No chance. ‘Oi missus’. The pink circled hole opens and the brittle irritating false notes clatter out. The commentary on the inadequacy of the last person it had barked at flies over my head. I rush by and out of the door. Silence. The temptation not to return is great and I linger by the coffee machine, take a deep breath and eventually head back, I fly through the door and straight to my desk. Tap tap.
We place bets on when will the voice leave, its only been with us a few months. I write its name on a piece paper and stamp on it, then burn it gleefully hoping that my magic incantation will bring the leaving date closer. No such luck. In the office voice speaks differently to the men it wants to manipulate, its light and fluffy, it tinkles girlishly and coo coo’s like a dove. To the women who its thinks are beneath it, it is harsh and wintery, sharp like broken glass as it cuts you with its demands. To the women it perceives as equal it rallies along with jokey anecdotes and giggles sympathetically to their problems and plight. People complain about the voice, it is shocked and sniffles to show that it has feeling. No one cares, too late the damage is done and the voice must leave.
Copyright : Jacqui Malpass : 2008
Too many years of loud music have rendered me somewhat hard of hearing. I always tell the voice I wasn’t aware that it was addressing me, so that I don’t have to be drawn into its shapeless world.
The voice troubles me, I can’t place its owner who lives in Bristol but doesn’t have that West Country twang. There’s a falseness, its hiding its origins, I know because, because is becoorse.
I learn to hate the voice, it criticizes my clothes, tucks me in and its hands touch my body uninvited. Its only been sending shrill messages for a week and I already need to escape. The pink hole is open more than it is shut and after a short while I move my desk to the other side of the room, for some much needed peace. The voice mutters under its breath only to rise to a nasty hiss when it demands ‘how dare I move’ it snarls and threatens me.
It’s too late I lose my temper; its snotty falseness grates me. The voice has landed on a nerve and jars me; the code imprinted on the ganglia, bullets in place the voice pulls the trigger. I can never hear it again without the bile rising.
Its another day, I am deliberately ignoring it. It rises higher lamenting the journey to work, no one is listening, the monkey screeches louder as if to declare ‘you will listen to me’. We all, my colleagues and I continue to tap tap on our computers; no one lifts their eyes, for to catch its eye will give it life. Its stops, silence, but the lingering echo wraps itself around each of us, rubbing harsh salt into our ears. I daren’t look up, until the extra tap tap of its keyboard is added to ours.
Eventually my bladder betrays me and I try to sneak across the uncarpeted room, past its desk. No chance. ‘Oi missus’. The pink circled hole opens and the brittle irritating false notes clatter out. The commentary on the inadequacy of the last person it had barked at flies over my head. I rush by and out of the door. Silence. The temptation not to return is great and I linger by the coffee machine, take a deep breath and eventually head back, I fly through the door and straight to my desk. Tap tap.
We place bets on when will the voice leave, its only been with us a few months. I write its name on a piece paper and stamp on it, then burn it gleefully hoping that my magic incantation will bring the leaving date closer. No such luck. In the office voice speaks differently to the men it wants to manipulate, its light and fluffy, it tinkles girlishly and coo coo’s like a dove. To the women who its thinks are beneath it, it is harsh and wintery, sharp like broken glass as it cuts you with its demands. To the women it perceives as equal it rallies along with jokey anecdotes and giggles sympathetically to their problems and plight. People complain about the voice, it is shocked and sniffles to show that it has feeling. No one cares, too late the damage is done and the voice must leave.
Copyright : Jacqui Malpass : 2008
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