Wednesday 13 April 2011
Eggshells
You never know you have been walking on eggshells until you dont have to anymore. You wake up one day and realise that you dont actually have to slide out of bed trying not to move any of the sheets and tip toe out the bedroom and down the stairs so as not to wake the man in the bed beside you. Life was a lot simpler when his eyes were shut. One day you wake up and the bed is empty next to you and you can jump out of bed singing throwing the covers back and sitting on the side of the bed looking at the sun coming up and its only then that the deep realisation that you have been tip toeing around that person for many years. Its only then that the perfection you had achieved comes to light. Spending 20 years making yourself invisible and quiet has been your lifes work and you have totally perfected it to the point where it was a way of life and you didnt give it a thought. Have you ever sat and watched someone asleep on the sofa and just wishing that the breath your watching them take would be their last and that would be it, freedom. Life doesnt work like that and on this occassion this person decided that he would try and make it my last breath he watched. Taking into his hands to try and put my head through the bannisters of the stairs then with one swift movemnt pulling my hair and thrusting my head down onto the coffee table and finally trying to strangle me. This wasnt my desired ending but at the time something kicks in and you fight for your life. An inner strength takes over and although I was not able to fight him off I did give him a run for his money before he pinned me to the ground and I started going blue. It was at this point my son stepped in and jumped on his back, breaking his spell and giving me a chance to break free. When you hear people say that life begins at 40 well I know what they mean as I had just turned 40 and this was the beginning of a chapter in my life I wouldnt wish on anyone and hopefully this book will help others to recognise the signs and avoid them.
Friday 18 February 2011
Housesitting
Today I am on a housesit. This means me throwing everything I think I might need into an old suitcase and heading off into the countryside in my 20 year old Renault with my trusty GSP in search of houses buried deep in the rural outback of France. I am looking after three goats, three chickens, two dogs, two cats and a parrot. The first time I came to this housesit I arrived after the owners had gone and was greeted by a very large black dog who lept up and knocked me flat on my back and preceeded to stand over me and lick my face. There is never a dull moment when housesitting, like the dog that has to be given daily pills, the cat you have to hand feed,heating that wont work in the middle of winter and the dog that pees up your leg!
I also housesit a variety of cats all having their own routines and quirky habits. I have 9 cats at home one of which is deaf. We have taught him sign language which amounts to feeding time and come here. He cant hear his meow and lets out an ear shattering scream that would curdle milk. He is white and has to have cat sun cream on to go outside so we generally keep him indoors. We are thinking of designing him a sun hat which would enable him to spread his wings and go off exploring. He is learning to feel vibration and can tell if someone enters the room or there is a loud noise, we blow on him to get his attention otherwise he jumps several feet in the air if you just turn up in his line of vision. People call me the flower power cat lady, but thats ok with me.
I also housesit a variety of cats all having their own routines and quirky habits. I have 9 cats at home one of which is deaf. We have taught him sign language which amounts to feeding time and come here. He cant hear his meow and lets out an ear shattering scream that would curdle milk. He is white and has to have cat sun cream on to go outside so we generally keep him indoors. We are thinking of designing him a sun hat which would enable him to spread his wings and go off exploring. He is learning to feel vibration and can tell if someone enters the room or there is a loud noise, we blow on him to get his attention otherwise he jumps several feet in the air if you just turn up in his line of vision. People call me the flower power cat lady, but thats ok with me.
Thursday 17 February 2011
Word from the Funny Farm
Well here I am sitting in someone elses house in rural France looking after three goats, three chickens, two dogs, two cats and a parrot – thinking back to how I actually arrived at this place in my life but it really is quite a funny sad story. I am writing a book about it and thought I would share bits of it with you. Hopefully it will make you laugh and cheer your day up. Enjoy!!
It all began when I turned forty. I think I know now why people say that life begins at forty, as I can honestly say mine changed forever. I had been married for 16 years to an aggressive short person and had spent many years optimistically hoping that one day he would just suddenly stop breathing. I had always been a person who believed that nothing ever lasted good or bad but realise now that I was totally ill prepared for the following catalogue of events that were to leave me penniless with no job in the rural outback of France.
I had worked all my life in the printing industry, had a degree in print management and was a proud owner of a lovely three bedroom house. My husband, on the other hand, had been in and out of jobs, always having trouble seeing eye to eye with any boss. Preferring the slower pace of life he spent most of his days sitting in his brown plastic recliner, something he considered his best skip find. He didn’t really contribute to the household other than filling the garage up with mounds of rubbish, found while delving into other peoples skips. He hated everyone in the world, other than the ones lucky enough to live within a mile radius of him. He had a massive chip on his shoulder, big enough to feed America and was someone you could laugh at when he was not around. In the summer he wore tiny cut down jeans that just about managed to cover his manhood and a pair of beige moccasins in an effort to gain an all over manly tan, something he felt was essential to his tough image.
We had a very strange neighbour called Lucy who was extremely tall, wore crocheted tops and no bra, was permanently drunk and would cry regularly about not knowing who she really was. She was divorced and had two children who, surprisingly enough, were well adjusted and doing very nicely in school. She spent most of her days sitting in the dark with a glass of wine, stroking pieces of fur from, once loved, long gone, pets and looking at old pictures of happier times. She had a crush on my husband and would regularly lay in waiting for him. Once in sight she would pounce on him giggling her ample breasts while grabbing him firmly with both arms and proffering her cheek. This was something he hated with a passion as he was just the right height to be wedged inbetween her breasts with little room to breathe and was unable to move………..
More to follow
It all began when I turned forty. I think I know now why people say that life begins at forty, as I can honestly say mine changed forever. I had been married for 16 years to an aggressive short person and had spent many years optimistically hoping that one day he would just suddenly stop breathing. I had always been a person who believed that nothing ever lasted good or bad but realise now that I was totally ill prepared for the following catalogue of events that were to leave me penniless with no job in the rural outback of France.
I had worked all my life in the printing industry, had a degree in print management and was a proud owner of a lovely three bedroom house. My husband, on the other hand, had been in and out of jobs, always having trouble seeing eye to eye with any boss. Preferring the slower pace of life he spent most of his days sitting in his brown plastic recliner, something he considered his best skip find. He didn’t really contribute to the household other than filling the garage up with mounds of rubbish, found while delving into other peoples skips. He hated everyone in the world, other than the ones lucky enough to live within a mile radius of him. He had a massive chip on his shoulder, big enough to feed America and was someone you could laugh at when he was not around. In the summer he wore tiny cut down jeans that just about managed to cover his manhood and a pair of beige moccasins in an effort to gain an all over manly tan, something he felt was essential to his tough image.
We had a very strange neighbour called Lucy who was extremely tall, wore crocheted tops and no bra, was permanently drunk and would cry regularly about not knowing who she really was. She was divorced and had two children who, surprisingly enough, were well adjusted and doing very nicely in school. She spent most of her days sitting in the dark with a glass of wine, stroking pieces of fur from, once loved, long gone, pets and looking at old pictures of happier times. She had a crush on my husband and would regularly lay in waiting for him. Once in sight she would pounce on him giggling her ample breasts while grabbing him firmly with both arms and proffering her cheek. This was something he hated with a passion as he was just the right height to be wedged inbetween her breasts with little room to breathe and was unable to move………..
More to follow
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