Striking

 

 

I'm spending today on my own, as usual for a Sunday, so I'm sitting here with a coffee and taking advantage of the quiet time to catch up with my journal.

 

Last Sunday I was on my own but I had some lovely Mother's Day cards. My daughter and step daughter rang me. Obviously my son couldn't from the depths of the Atlantic but his girlfriend did, so I felt loved. I also had a lovely surprise In the card from Catherine. A photo of her baby's face at 24 weeks. Where they live in Germany, these 3 D scans were developed. I think it's amazing and on this one she definitely has Flo's profile.

 

                    

 

Poor thing, there's no privacy anywhere these days, is there?

 

The weather has been horrible this week. I admit there has been some sun, which was a welcome change but the wind! It just never stopped, it was cold and made my hair constantly stand on end, which I hate and every half an hour or so, it would blow up a big black cloud that would deposit icy, stinging rain, which made just getting to the car an ordeal.

 

This morning, I’m pleased to see, the wind has lessened considerably and I may be tempted to get out in the garden this afternoon, after I’ve watched the Grand Prix of course.

 

The slight increase in the temperature and a few hours of sun has brought lots of leaves and flowers bursting forth, hopefully Spring ‘proper’ is just around the corner.

 

I had a new experience this week, something I never thought I would do. I went out on strike. My father would be spinning in his grave, only he was cremated, so I’m not sure what the equivalent would be, whirling up a dust storm maybe? Anyway, he wouldn’t be very pleased.

 

I remember his reaction when I joined the local Labour Club, so I could go to the weekly disco with my friends. You’d have thought I’d said I was a fully paid up member of the Communist Party.

 

I didn’t choose to strike, I am a member of UNISON, if I was asked to vote, I don’t remember it. But, 80% of members voted to strike and I had joined the union to protect my interests, so I felt I had no choice but to go along with it. Also, if I wanted to continue working at my school and to enjoy a happy relationship with my fellow Teaching Assistants, then I had to be out for the day on Tuesday.

 

I drew the line at picketing. I don’t do confrontation. I can go one of two ways. Completely lose my rag and start ranting, which then leads me to abusive and insulting. Or, I start crying. I didn’t think either of these two qualities would enhance any picket line. So I went out for the day with Mike, to the Bull Ring in Birmingham and bought some fish.

 

The Bull Ring Market is one of the few places in the Midlands that you can buy real fish these days, other than supermarkets and they mostly sell farmed salmon.

 

What happened to all those lovely fishmongers we used to have? We had a wonderful Mac Fisheries in Stourbridge and I seem to remember Housewife’s Corner had a good selection too, before they decided to put the Ring Road through it.

 

Some of the Governors of the school came in to cover our duties on the strike day and that has not gone down well with some of the staff. One of the Teaching Assistants is a Governor and at the Goverors meeting on Wednesday night she berated the Parent Governors for undermining our action, there was a right Hoo Haa about it. The result being, I was snubbed by one of the Parent Governors on Friday morning and she is usually very friendly towards me. As I had nothing to say about them covering our duties, I felt it a bit unfair to be tarred with the same brush. I knew this strike would cause trouble, which I do not like one bit and I have a horrible feeling it will get worse, as the situation looks unlikely to be resolved.

 

I’m not looking forward to my son hearing about the strike when he returns from his tour of duty. He takes after his grandfather and great grandfather (who was Chairman and President of his local Conservative Club, for many years.) I can see I will be in for some name calling and a bit of friendly head slapping. Horrid child!

 

Catherine and Flo have moved into their new flat and have nearly finished installing the kitchen. I find it very odd that in Germany you don’t get a kitchen with your house or flat, you have to install one yourself and you take it with you when you move! Barmy if you ask me, that’s the whole point of moving house, isn’t it? Because the oven needs a damn good clean, you move to a new house with a cleaner oven!

 

One of my distant relatives wrote to me this week, to say how much she enjoyed the wedding photos. She is a lady I met through my family research. She lives in Ohio but came to England on a visit with her daughter. I met them and took them on a tour of where our shared ancestors lived and then a trip round The Black Country Museum, with a wonderful fish and chip lunch, cooked in an ancient range, in dripping. Mmmm!

 

Our shared Hadley family had a yeoman farmer, John Hadley, who made a fortune making and selling iron ramrods to the British Army, during the American War of Independence. With the money he made he rebuilt his farm, which was then called Ramrod Hall. What a wonderful name to have as your family ancestral pile. Sadly it was demolished before I was born andto date no photos have been found of the place.

 

This American 5th cousin had a bad start to the year. She had developed a worrying cough and they found she had cancer of the colon. They removed a three-pound tumour, which had been pressing up into her diaphragm, causing the cough.

 

She is having chemo but sounds very positive. She is such a lovely lady, so if you think about it, say a prayer for Sandra and that all goes well with her.

 

The wind is getting up and it's just started to rain, so it looks like the garden will have to wait again.

 

I seem to have managed to lose a pound in weight, not much but a step in the right direction, this picture below, fron D's Designs is how I see myself looking soon!!!!!!!