Strange Comes With Age?

I just had one of those moments where you clearly see yourself and realise that you may be slightly strange.

Mike just called upstairs to me that he had been surprised to find himself enthralled by the Curling on the Winter Olympics. Now if that isn't a barmy sport, I don't know what is. Sliding about on the ice following a polished rock, while your mates jiggle about with brushes in front of you. And we won a medal for it last time!

His comment made me think about what I was doing at that moment. I was gazing, enviously at the photo above, which is of some blue paving bricks found in Hamburg. The photo had just been emailed to me by a man I have been talking to in Germany. He found them twenty years ago, when they were digging up the pavement.

He put them in his daughter's pram, took them home and they have now gone through four house moves with him. He didn't say if his wife is still with him.

I have had a passion for blue bricks since I was a child, many of the pavements in The Black Country were paved with them. Proper blue bricks, as made by The Cakemore Brick Company, are tougher than granite and impervious to water. St Pancras Goods Station was buit with their bricks.

My interest in this particular Company is because Cakemore is where my Harper family farmed throughout the 19th Century, at the time these bricks were made.

I know it's odd but I would love to get my hands on one. But then, even odder surely to put half a dozen in your daughter's pram!

So it not just us Brits who have strange, quirky interests, obviously the Germans do too.

I have further proof of the strangeness of my daughter's chosen homeland.She and Flo were at a party at the weekend. Someone decided to take the shelves out of the fridge and attempt to fit themselves into it. They failed.

Flo, in his delightful German/American/English accent said " I cun du that." And in doing so he had to remove one shoe to enable the door to be shut. That produced great hilarity, bordering on hysteria, as his revealed sock was one of the pairs I bought him as a tree present at Christmas, black with florescent pink toes and heel. Obviously Germans don't understand Marks and Spencer style! 

Catherine said it would have been funnier if he had taken both shoes off, as his other sock was grey.

I'm very pleased to hear that Flo has a stong streak of the peculiar running through him, he should fit well into my family. With a Punk Rock Star father and my daughter as it's mother I am expecting new heights of quirkiness from their offspring. After all my daughter at the age of three took to wearing a Welsh ladies hat and rarely took it off for the next two years and then went into black and became a Goth at twelve.

Mike thought Flo wanted to get in the fridge to test the theory that the light really does go off when you shut the door, which apparently, it does.

We think we have everything sorted to get my mother and her zimmer frame to Germany for the wedding. Flo's stepfather decided to take us all one step nearer the wedding from Hell, by rupturing himself at the gym. He had an operation today. He thought, that as they said he would be in and out in one day, that meant he would be walking around tonight. Ha! Niave Bif. It's obviously the same in Germany as it is here, they have you out of the ward the moment you're concious. He's lying down feeling sorry for himself tonight.

We went to the gym today and I weighed myself. I've lost another six pounds!!!! And their scales have just been checked. I haven't been this weight for years! In fact I'm feeling so good about myself, I shall be on the lookout for a nice German toyboy next week and if he's wheeling a pram with some blue bricks in....so much the better.

I still haven't got over my mother in the hospital on Sunday, she had a couple of visitors I didn't know, as well as Wilf and the four bed room had several other visitors at the time. For a start she was on top of the bed in a fairly short nightie and kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, a la Sharon Stone. With half a leg in plaster and aged 77 this was not a good image. Then she was discussing what clothes she needed for travelling home and said she could dress herself, apart from putting her knickers on. She said, so Wilf will have to help me do that, which will make a change from him taking them off!

Well! ....I didn't know he wore her knickers anyway.

I'm hoping she behaves herself in Germany. I just know we won't get through it without one of them mentioning the war.

 

I'm Back!

I've had a bit of time off from Journal writing, as I felt it my entries were getting depressing, which was how I was feeling and as the last entry received no comments, I was obviously depressing everyone who read it. I made it Private, while I considered it's fate.

I feel a lot better now, which is just as well considering the week I've just had! More of that later.

Things that have happened since I last wrote.

My daughter had her second scan and was hoping to find out the sex of her baby. This child is obviously going to take after it's mother. Contrary. It turned it's back and refused to turn round again to reveal whether it was a boy of a girl. So we have to wait another two weeks to see if all is to be revealed.

My son went and had a little trip on his submarine, they were doing some tests. How considerate of The Royal Navy to arrange for him a short taster before they sent him away on his big trip.

 God, was that a worry. I was dreading the phone call when he got back, in case he was a mental wreck and couldn't bear the thought he was going back under for several weeks. Thankfully he said it was fine and although he knew the time would drag until he was home again, he was quite happy about it. Phew!!!

The wedding plans are going well and everyone that is going has booked their flight and a coach has been laid on at the German end. The Hotel is booked and flowers sorted. The Reception is to be in an old pub, which has a room upstairs that we are using, it has bits of old brewing equipment in it, so sounds interesting. The town they live in is Bad Laasphe, which is very rural according to my daughter.

My niece Emma has now left  sunny Wolverhampton and is on her 11 month tour of the world. She has started in Thailand and is writing a Blog, so if she can access mine, we can both keep up with what's happening.

My son's Ex girlfriend, no, not the nutter, another one, is also on her travels and is in Thailand at the moment but moves to Cambodia next week. She sent me the photos, shown here, yesterday. The wonders of the Internet! I think the first picture above is so beautiful, it looks like a photo from a travel magazine......Lucy, I never realised you were so artistic! 

My friend Catherine, who moved to Lyon just before Christmas tells me she has found herself a home now and I hope to visit her later in the year. I was a little concerned to hear they have found Bird Flu there. I read it is carried by migrating swans, so no snogging a swan Catherine!

This week has been half term and I really needed the break, as we had an OFSTED inspection just two weeks ago and that was stressful to say the least.

The week started with a visit to Mike's family. His Mum, who is 86 was looking well.

Wednesday we were being taken out to lunch by my Mum and stepfather Wilf. I'd only just got up when the phone rang. It was Wilf, to say Mum had fallen the night before, on her way out of a pub, for heavens sake, she's 77!. He insists she was sober and had only had a tomato juice. Hmmmmm!

Anyway, unlike the fall she had a couple of weeks earlier, when she JUST needed a couple of stitches in her forehead. This time she'd made a good job of it and broke her leg in 3 places. One of the fractures needed pinning, so she was having an operation the next day.

Can you imagine the distress this caused? Apart from the worry of her injuries, what about the wedding? Someone at the hospital told her she couldn't fly while she was in plaster.

I went to see her that afternoon and was relieved to see she was cheerful and only plastered  up to just below her knee. I came home with thoughts of driving her there. I checked the Eurotunnel and then the distance from Calais to Bad Laasphe its 350 miles, no more than when I drove up to see my son in Faslane last summer. And I did that with just two hours notice. I could surely do this drive when so much was at stake.

The next morning, panic mode had settled to reasoned thought. Why couldn't she fly. What happened to skiers when they broke their leg/legs. Did they all get left in The Alps for several months? I think not!

So I turned to my friend, the Internet, looked up the airlines website and found there was actually no difficulty with a lower leg plaster. As long as she was certified fit to fly. I have long thought my mother should be certified but that's another matter!

Last night came the good news. The doctor will sign her fit to fly to Germany, as it is a short flight. She was moving around well on a Zimmer frame yesterday and today she will get plastered again. They have even said that if she goes in the Tuesday before she flies, they will put a split cast on , which is bandaged together. Then if she has any problem with her leg swelling on the plane, we can remove it and put it back on later. No, not her leg, the plaster!!  

So, hopefully, all is sorted. 

I had a look at future son in laws website for his group this week and found they have now put a video on there of the tour they did in  England in November and there is a link here to the site. Go to Media and the link to the video is on that page.

http://www.acaseofgrenada.com/NEW/frameset.htm

If  anyone reading this is interested in Punk, of a German type (ie screamed, not sung) have a look. If you don't like the sound you can mute it and still have a look. Flo is the Lead Screamer, the one with black hair and a lovely smile and my daughter is the pretty blonde girl. They do look a little unkempt on some of the shots as they were living in the TourBus most of the time.

I think that brings my life up to date and will start doing my weekly Blog from now on.

If you visit, please leave a comment, as I have just taken that stupid counter off, it has just reset itself to zero again and I really can't be bothered to go through all the crap of resetting it again.So it would be nice to know if anyone stopped by.

It's a pity AOL can't be more bothered about sorting out these problems than they are with putting adverts onto the My Picture pages!!! 

 

Life Moves On.

The ear is improving but when all is quiet, it sounds like I have a washing machine on the spin cyle in there. The doctor says the infection has gone and I just have to wait for the tubes to clear.

The last few days have been emotional turmoil.

Daughter is worried about upsetting her future German mother in law who would like them to wait for Flo's brother to return from duty in the army in Afghanistan before gettting married. As he doesn't expect to be back until late March, then the earliest they could marry is the first Friday in April, by which time she would be nearly seven months pregnant. Catherine does not want to look like a beached whale on her wedding photos AND if they wait for Sebastian to come back then they really should wait for her own brother Simon to return from duty on his submarine, which will not be until the middle of April, or thereabouts, she doesn't feel it would be fair to wait for one and not the other. I have to agree with her point of view but I would much rather have both the boys there. I must remember it is her wedding day and she must be able to feel as good as possible. I know she would rather have them both there if she could.

Thursday, we got THE CALL. These days you only get two days notice when OFSTED are coming in to assess you. If you don't have anything to do with the teaching profession this will mean nothing to you but just think, major surgery without anaesthetic and you will be somewhere near.

I think today went alright but tomorrow is my day for taking a class, on my own, for computer studies. I'm taking a pack of Tena Lady with me, just in case. You have to live with this report for about four years. Please don't let me be the one that cocks up!

I spoke to my son last night, for the last time for nearly three months. He is to be living below the sea for all that time. When he comes home, apparently, he will look like a maggot, having been so deprived of daylight. I can't bear the thought of him being shut away for so long and missing his sister's wedding. 

My stepfather was 80 today and we had a surprise party for him yesterday. It was a lovely party, with 100 guests. If I get to that age and have that many friends, I will be very surprised, so it would be a surprise party for me.

One of the guests was a Black Country comedian, Tommy Munden. He said he had bought his wife a hamster fur coat for Christmas, trouble was, he took her to Birmingham at the weekend and they went on the big wheel......he couldn't get her off!

He recommend Viagra for Wilf and Mum to put the zest back into their sex life. Wilf said 'Can you get it over the counter?' Tommy said'Yes. If you take two!'   

One of the chickens escaped through the fence on Thursday afternoon and we couldn't find her. I thought she was dead, that something had eaten her. I spent hours out with a torch looking for her. The next morning we were out at the crack of day. I was calling 'Where's my girl', which usually brings her running and sure enough, there she was next door. I hopped over the fence and brought her home. It was so sweet, as I held her she stretched her neck over my shoulder and snuggled into my neck, as if she was saying 'It's so good to be home'. I really am daft when it comes to my animals.

Harper Dog has to go to the vet tomorrow, he has developed a worrying cough and I have just discovered a large, soft lump in his neck. He's thirteen. I haven't told Simon about Fliss yet, I don't want him to come home and find half the pets have gone. What sort of a negligent Mother would that make me, on his first trip under the sea?

 

It's Life Jim But Not As We Know It.

I've spent the last two weeks feeling as if someone took a carrot, stuck it in my ear and then rammed it home with the aid of a few hefty whacks from a baseball bat. If ever you have the chance to avoid an infected Eustachion Tube, then I recommend you do so.

I've taken to having three hour naps in the afternoon so that I can continue working in the mornings. Alcohol tastes vile (can there be a worse punishment) and after a course of run of the mill antibiotics, I am now on a course of orange and grey nuclear warheads.

I am going through the motions of life but don't seem to be here. Mike has gone out in the afternoons to do various shopping and household errands as I don't seem aware of what needs doing and I don't seem to notice he went out.

Worst of all, I took mum to meet a cousin today, she is the lady I mentioned previously who had an article published in a local paper about her visit to our mutual great uncle's grave in France. He died in WW1. On the way home from meeting her I used the F word !!!!!. In front of my Mother.

We had a lovely time looking at photos but after two hours I was getting tired and in need of my afternooon nap. As I was driving Mum home we came to a large traffic roundabout with three lanes around it. As we approached it three cars were coming from the right, only one seemed to be coming very fast and it then accelerated in clouds of black smoke and a huge roar. I expected it to be going straight on at that speed but no, it skidded round the roundabout and went three quarter's of the way round, most of it on two wheels. I have never seen anything like it outside of the movies. I fully expected  it to overturn in front of us and was so startled that a word not to be used in front of my mother popped out. I'm sure it was because I was tired and not feeling well.

Thankfully Mum was so frightened by what we saw that she didn't seems to notice, which was just as well as I was fully expecting a sharp slap across my bad ear.

Which made me think, at what age do we stop being scared of our mothers? At 52 I still have to temper any difference of opinion with Mum, for fear of a telling off.

Mike has the same problem. He's 60 and his mother is 86. For his 60th birthday she bought him a half hour flight in a light aircraft, despite knowing the he has been terrified of heights all his life. Yet he daren't tell her he doesn't want to go in case he gets a sharp backhander.

No doubt  on the day he finally plucks up courage to go on his flight, she will be there, spitting in her hankie and wiping imaginary dirt from his face.

Is it something peculiar to our generation, that we live in fear of our mothers but also our children? I'm always doing what I think my mother would like and at the same time what my children tell me to do.

When will it be my turn? When do I get to be top of the food chain? Is life like this for everyone, or is it just me that constantly rides the guilt train to nowhere? Trying to please everyone and consequently pleasing no one, certainly not yourself.

My Mother is a funny woman, she's quite clever but there is a faulty connection somewhere and often comes out with the wrong word. A sort of modern day Mrs Malaprop.

I may have aleady recounted the tale of my sister's singing lesson and being patted on the scrotum. But you are not allowed to question what she said, even when it was blatantly incorrect and has people falling about laughing. Yet things I say, which I know to be correct have to be disputed and I am made to feel a silly little girl.

Could someone please tell me at what age, in my Mother's eyes, I become an adult?

 

 

 

 

Catching Up and Finding I have Tourette's!

The New Year started off well enough but quickly took a down turn.

I woke up last Saturday to find that overnight I had started an ear and sinus infection. This now seems to have grown into a whole head infection and I have virtually lost the hearing in my left ear.

Monday morning saw me at the GP Surgery. As, in their infinite wisdom, Saturday Emergency Surgery has been stopped, Monday's Duty Surgery was a sight to behold.

You have to go at 10.30 and take a number and wait. At 10.30 the morning appointments hadn't  finished, so those people were still clogging up the waiting room and there were 60 people for the Duty GP's. I honestly thought I must now be living in a Third World Country. There wasn't enough room to accomodate everyone, so a number had to stand out in the garden.

As I had arrived at 10.15 I had managed to get a seat and a young man sat next to me. He then started to tell me about his life. He was an attractive young man, who obviously had problems. His clothes were rags and his trainers were falling to bits, with no toes.

I felt so sorry for him as his tale of physical and sexual abuse unfolded. His self harming, the bites he'd taken out of his hand were something you wanted to not look at but somehow your eyes kept being drawn there.

I was feeling dreadful before, (in fact so bad, Mike had driven me to the Surgery and when he saw the crowd he said he'd go home and do some housework and come back later with a packed lunch, that wasn't far from the truth) but two hours with this young man was more than I, in my temperature ridden, weak state should have had to endure. When I felt I could stand no more, I said I was feeling a bit dizzy and needed some fresh air. Bless him, he was so concerned he insisted on coming with me to make sure I was alright. He was such a nice lad and I gave him as much advice as I could but WHY in this day and age, in a so called civilised society, are children allowed to be dragged up in this way?

The only bright spot was his girlfriend, whom he told me was the first person in his life to show him love, turned up looking for him. She'd brought his jacket, in case he was cold and as they sat holding hands and cuddling, he looked so lit up and happy that it brought a lump to my throat and tears to my eyes

I would love to think they may find a happy future but I'm not hopeful.   

When I came out at 12.30 I was less than impressed and feeling even worse than when I had arrived. The rest of the day was spent in bed.

Wednesday started as usual with Fliss, my bathroom cat, in her usual place besides the bath. She was purring and warbling as always. By mid afternoon she had lost the ability to walk. Fliss was quite elderly, in fact probably about 15 and had been getting thinner over the last year or so. I guessed it was kidney failure, which the vet confirmed.

We could have tried blood tests and an injection, which we tried with another cat who died five years ago. It only prolonged his life by a couple of weeks and I wouldn't say they were quality time.

This time I made the decision, that to me was the kindest. To have Fliss put to sleep there and then. Another part of this decision was because she had taken, lately, to standing in the middle of the road and not moving when cars came round the bend. Luckily because of the way our road is, cars are normally going slowly and have so far managed to stop but I just didn't want to take the risks.

She was lying peacfully on the table and died, while I was stroking her, in just a few seconds.

Sorry this has got off to such a miserable start but I can't make things up, can I?

The two photos of Fliss were taken the night before she died. The close up was testing out the Macro setting on my new camera, she was sitting alongside me and I literally had the camera a couple of inches from her face, I'm quite pleased with the result. The other picture was taken minutes earlier, when she was making up her mind whose settee she wanted to sit onDaddy, or Mummy. She chose me, hence the close up.

The other picture was taken a few days ago, we went on one of our 'Unsuitable for Heavy Vehicles' trips. This is when we go to a chosen place but not on the main roads, not even the B roads but those little white ones that have no name or number on the map.

We went to Tenbury Wells for tea and toasted teacakes. On the way there we stopped at the 12thC church of Rochford and met some friendly sheep just outside the churchyard, who seemed to want their photo taken, so I obliged. There is a grave in this churchyard for a Fanny Adams, which made us laugh. Couldn't help wondering whether she had been sweet or not. This particular route will be wonderful in about a month as most of the lanes are full of wild snowdrops.

I must be getting better because today I had the energy to have an attack of Tourette's. I'm sure I am un undiagnosed sufferer. My language is appalling when I get really stressed, or as happened today, something really annoys me.

In fact I was so concerned about this mornings attack I looked up the syptoms on the web and I think I am a mild sufferer, which explains a lot about the way things have gone in my life.

What started this morning's attack? Well I'll tell you....Gordon Effing Brown!

I was listening, quite happily to the news, in bed with my  cup of coffee, when the newsreader told me that Gordon Brown is suggesting that we drop Remembrance Day and have a British Day instead. Well he can jolly well contend with me first because as far as I'm concerned he can stick his effing British Day up his effing @!s*. How dare he? If he wants a British Day put it on another date and make it a Bank Holiday and we can all do something special, apart from all the people who still have to work bank holidays of course. Just leave Remembrance Day alone, that day is to remember the sacrfice made by so many and not to be cheapened by some political publicity stunt.

Oh well! There we go, what a bright happy start to my Journal for this year. I can only hope life and myinfected head improve and I shall try to think positively, after all I have a wedding and grandchild to look forward. Things can only get better...can't they?

PS Later news suggests Gordon Brown meant a different day, so hopefully the first report was incorrrect.

AND

I forgot.

HAPPY NEW YEAR to you all and thanks for the kind wishes I have already received today. XXX

 

 

The Party's Over

The colour is RED......

The colour of my bank account balance, my eyes, my cheeks, even my feet!

I have spent a million hours cooking and doing all the other chores that kept a houseful of six adults happy over the festive period. There was one major falling out, which resulted in my son and daughter making up and really talking to each other for the first time in years, the odd broken household item (we have a few clumsy bods in this house) and the dog bit me. All in all, a fairly normal Christmas. It's never total 'Peace and Harmony' in this house, no matter how hard I try.

I think the dog bit me because he is now getting very old (13) and cannot adjust to a sudden invasion of people. Mike had gone up to bed and I was still downstairs with the children and their partners, probably being a bit louder than he is used to, so he sloped off upstairs and got on the bed with his 'Daddy'.

When we all wanted to go to bed I went and told him it was bedtime, meaning, get off our bed and go to the kitchen, to yours. He didn't want to and started growling at me, I got hold of his collar to give him a bit of encouragement in the right direction, I had barely touched him and he bit me. Really hard! I was not impressed, so regardless of the bite, yanked him off the bed and hustled him down the stairs, where he got a severe telling off and the error of his ways was pointed out to him. I'm used to the children getting overwrought at Christmas but the dog is a complication I can do without.

Christmas day went without a hitch and dinner was excellent, every single plate was cleared which has to be a first, although we were all stuffed, nobody wanted to leave a morsel.

Boxing day and the day after was wedding dress hunting. I was in town at 8am yesterday, for the start of Monsoon's sale and we got 'The Dress'. which I have to say is beautiful. As they are having a smaller wedding now, seeing as a baby is on the way, a full length wedding dress seemed inappropriate but the dress we found is made of the gossamer of dreams, bound together with silk and silver.

If we do get through the minefield of administration in Germany and get this wedding sorted before they both go off the idea, then she will look like the Ice Princess, marrying, hopefully in a snowy forested mountain setting in Germany. I daren't put a picture on here of it yet, just in case someone sees it that shouldn't but I can tell you, she brought the fitting rooms to a stop when she came out wearing it, all the other ladies in there wanted to coo over her , which made me feel very proud.

Today was for Mike and I alone. It was his first day without work in ages and Simon has gone back to Faslane and Catherine has gone to spend a couple of days with Nan and my stepfather Wilf.

Wilf fell down the stairs the night before last and when all the family went over to their house yesterday for a get together, he was not at all well. He will be 80 at the end of January. Catherine is always very bossy but for once this worked out well. Last night, after the rest of the family had gone home, she insisted that he went to hospital, which he had been refusing to do all day. Nobody can stand up to Catherine for very long and after an hour or so he agreed to go to A&E, where they said he had broken a rib and gave him some strong painkillers. 

Flo had to fly back to Germany unexpectedly today, his band had a booking for a show tonight, which should have been cancelled but for some reason hadn't been. He got a call on Boxing Day saying, 'get your ass over here ', as this was from his record company, he didn't have much choice but as the band hasn't played together for 6 weeks it could be an interesting experience in front of 1500 Punk Rockers!

Mike and I went to the Radnor Forest today, on the border of England & Wales, not too far from Hereford.

The Radnor Forest is very interesting, as it isn't (a forest that is). It has very few trees but it is an incredibly beautiful area of valleys, mountains (large hills) and sheep, with some wonderful old farmhouses, which today all had their log fires going and you could see the smoke rising up in the still atmosphere. In places there was a slight sprinkling of snow.

We had lunch in an ancient coaching inn, sat beside a log fire which was in a fireplace the size of my office. I have a strong belief in the healing of the spirit and that's what I think I did today. In fact I think if anyone has  problems, a day out in the border lands of England and Wales can be a wonderful tonic. There is something truely magical and soothing about the area. All of the towns on the border, from North to South, have a strange similarity and for the most part, have been left wonderfully intact. Here's a link to a property we really liked the look of, I can't believe the price, you could just about buy something grotty in Worcester for that.

Property For Sale - Cromwell Lodge, 45 Hereford Street, Presteigne, Powys - Mc

I have taken a number of photos with our Christmas present, a Fuji Finepix S5600. I mention the make in case someone is looking for a new camera. I haven't had time to read how to do more complex things with it yet, all of the pictures above were taken on Auto but I must say I'm very impressed.

To all my friends whom I know in person, a very Happy New Year  and  to all the friends I know through my Blog a very Happy New Year to you too.

 

It's CHRISTMAAAAAASS!

If you don't understand the title, I'm quoting Noddy Holder from what must surely be his Pension Fund, seeing as that record has been dragged out every year for the last 30 something Christmases.

And to me, that is what Christmas is all about. Tradition. The same old, safe, things. Nothing too surprising, unless it's something wrapped underneath the tree.If you're lucky, a loving family around you, the usual, excessive amount of food, helped down by the best wines your budget will stretch to.

In our house, it also means watching The Amazing Mr Blunden, this year on DVD, rather than the slightly foggy video copy recorded from the telly about 15 years ago. As usual I shall cry when the pretty, teenage, Lynne Frederick (Peter Sellers widow, herself, no longer with us) is distraught at being sent back to her own time without her brother. As she screams 'I won't go without Jamie' and berates Mr Blunden for always being too late, I will be  there, trying to deal with the tears running down my face without  anyone noticing but Mike is normally having a similar problem. Diana Dors is wonderfully horrible as the  murderous housekeeper.

Although the main part of the film takes place during the summer, it starts of on a snowy winter's night, where an impoverished family are trying to make the most of Christmas after their father had been killed in the First World War but everything comes good at the end. What more could you ask from a Christmas film?

Whether you believe in 'The Christmas Story,'  or not, surely the message is still just as important. It's a time to demonstrate our love to one another, something we hope we do all the time but sadly, in the traumas of day to day life, that message isn't always coming through loud and clear.

Unfortunately the pressures put on us by the Media and the High Street stores, turns what should be a happy and joyous time into something more akin to 'going over the top' at The Somme.

Every year I say 'That's It! Next year I shall scale it all down but I can't help myself, I love everyone to have a pile of presents to open on Christmas Day, even though some of them are only silly little things, each one has been bought with all the love I feel for the person receiving it.

This year Mike will be on the radio from 3 till 6 in the afternoon, instead of his usual Breakfast Show, that means we can't eat until the evening, which means a change to our usual routine. A few weeks ago, we thought my son wouldn't be here on Christmas Day, as he will be very busy on his submarine getting ready to go to sea.

As I thought it would just be Mike and myself, plus daughter and boyfriend, I had the temerity to think of making things a little easier for myself and not cook the usual Ostrich sized turkey. I asked the 'Germans' what they thought about Beef Wellington. Wonderful, they said.

Jolly good, this would be a special meal but so much easier.................................... Deep inside my brain little voices were saying 'What are you thinking?' 'Where's the tradition in Beef Wellington?' 'Grandma would never have served Beef Wellington!'

That last thought was very true, it would never have served 12 for lunch and supper for 30. What size bird she used to buy I have no idea but there was always plenty to go round. No wonder it had to go on the night before to be cooked in time!

I was not happy with myself, I felt I was letting myself down but , 'Fear not, said she, for mighty dread had siezed my troubled mind'. My son was about to save the day!

I received a text saying son and girlfriend would now be arriving on the 23rd and staying till Boxing Day. The Royal Navy have decided he can come home for Christmas after all.

If I had nagging doubts before, I was now into panic mode. He wasn't going to like the Beef Wellington idea. Even though he's not keen on roast dinners, my son is a traditionalist. I don't know where he gets it from, he's like my dad in some respects. 

My son is the most complex person I know, he was born Conservative and old fashioned and his sense of humour is a delicate thing, he never finds anything about himself amusing, you are not allowed to laugh at his mistakes but he's always the first to point out others. His mission in life is to correct his wayward, embarrassing mother, yet, when he worked with me, thought nothing of wearing a mini skirt, make up and blonde wig and being Britney Spears at the office Christmas Party and topping it off with a Full Monty routine!

I knew he wasn't going to like the Beef Wellington idea.

I phoned him.

Me. "Hi"

Son. "Hello, what do you want?"

(He's sussed me out already!)

Me."You know you said you wouldn't be here for Christmas and I thought it was just going to be four of us, well your sister and I thought Beef Wellington would be a good idea"

Son. Pause for effect " Are you sure about this?" This is said in the tone you would explain something to a backward child.

Me "But you don't like roast dinners"

Son. "That's not the point, turkey is what we have"

Well, I'm glad we cleared that up, we're now having Turkey and Beef Wellington. That should make things a little easier for me! At least this year I have all day to prepare and cook it.

I missed writing last week's journal, partly because I didn't have very much free time but mainly because I was tired and emotionally drained. School at this time of year is enough on it's own, add to that the worries of my daughter over in Germany awaiting her first scan, plus the general logistics of Christmas. My head felt like it had a million thoughts banging around in there and not one managed to come to the forefront for more than a moment, the result was I felt exhausted and mildly depressed.

Things are a littlebetter now but I still don't feel my usual self, hopefully it will improve now I'm getting on top of things, rather than the other way around.

Daughter had her scan on Thursday and I have now met my first grandchild, she sent me a picture of the scan. What a wonderful tool the Internet is. Everything is fine and it has the right number of the usual bits and pieces, we have been given a date in late June.

I 'met' another member of my family for the first time this week. That came as a bit of a shock, as I was in bed at the time.

Just over two years ago I found my mother's Uncle, who died in WW1, on the CWGC website and was able to tell her when he died and where he was buried. He was my mother's mother's oldest brother, his name was Isaac Tromans and he died aged 22 in July 1918 and is buried in Acheux in Northern France. We don't have a photo of him but Mum had been told he looked like a film star.

So there I was, in bed, leafing through The Black Country Bugle, which is a weekly newspaper devoted to the area I come from, and contains, mainly, people's old photos and memories and is a family researcher's bible.

There was a full page article about a woman fulfilling a long cherished ambition of going to vist her great Uncle's grave in Acheux. There were various photos, including one of the young man who was tragically killed. As I started to look at the photo I didn't need to look at the name to know who this was, after all, those eyes look back at me from the mirror every morning. I've often wondered where I got those slightly down turned, almond shaped eyes from. I know now which branch of the family they come from.

Here for the first time, I was looking at my great Uncle Isaac. If you think this photo would have been taken about 90 years ago, you can see why he was thought to have film star looks. In an area where poverty was commonplace and poor diet led to children looking old before their time, you can understand why this young man was considered a bit special. I confess I cried at the loss and the waste.

This of course brings unanswered questions, who is this unknown second cousin, also called Linda. I shall have to try to contact her through The Bugle, as I'm sure we must have plenty to talk about, I wonder if she knows about Joseph (seen in an earlier post), who was Isaac's youngest brother and died from Diptheria in the late 1920's?

My son's Ex girlfriend, who is still very much part of the family, thankfully without any difficulties (not like the Stalker), has just gone on her travels. She was made redundant from her job and is using a little of her payoff to see the World. I hope she has a wonderful time. My only niece is going to do the same thing in February, how life has changed from when I was young. Then, the only people who went travelling were hippies, who mostly went to Morrocco and smoked 'herbal' cigarettses. 

Well, I can't stop here chatting. Time to go and get more things done in preparation.

If Catherine, in France, has time to read this, much love to you and if you are over here and have a spare minute, try to pop in.

Merry Christmas Everyone. xxxx