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Land Army Photos
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These two layouts are of my husband's Grandmother and his Aunt. His Grandmother served in the land army during the first world war, and this is how she met her husband, as she was working on his family's farm. The other layout is of her daughter, Florence, Eric's Aunt, who served in the land army during the second world war.
Holidays Long Forgotten
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I must be getting old because the days and weeks just fly by. I managed to scrap another photo yesterday at the crop from our Canadian holiday last year. The photo isn't instantly what you think of when Canada is mentioned but we did see quite a few scenes like this one. Unusually, the sky seems to have been blue, something that was distinctly lacking for most of the holiday.
My First Crop
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You'd have thought that since I've been scrapbooking since 2003, I'd have attended a crop before now. But, no, Sunday I attended my very first one. Normally, I'd hate going and being in a room of people I don't know, but I actually enjoyed it. Everybody was very friendly and nice and I wouldn't hesitate to go again.
I attempted the class and discovered Bazzill stitching templates which for somebody who doesn't sew are brilliant. I came home and of course had to order a couple. I finished the layout off at home and have to admit to getting "leaky elbows" but it's still basically the same class that was taught.
The Perils Of Ample Cleavage
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I usually hate shopping in any form, but, last week I dragged Eric out kicking and screaming to buy clothes. The intention was to buy clothes for me....which I did with a vengeance, but we also ended up buying a few things for Eric and Ashleigh.
The one thing that always strikes me when I go shopping for clothes is that manufacturers always seem to design for some bustless woman. This is definitely a problem for me! First stop on my shopping trip was Marks and Spencers. None of my bras fitted properly, so, taking advice from Trinny and Susannah I decided to have a bra fitting session. Only problem was, there were only two bras in the entire store in my size. That's right two. Not two styles, with several in each style...TWO bras only. Now this is why I hate shopping for clothes. I always end up feeling like some kind of freak, which obviously I am.
Normally at this stage I would decide it was all a very bad idea and slink back home, but for some reason last week I continued shopping and unusually for me, I wasn't even feeling bad or deformed. I needed some new trousers and tops, and a few other things took my fancy along the way. It wasn't easy finding tops. Being somewhat busty, but still having a waist is obviously unheard of. To find anything that fitted my bust but wasn't a shapeless tent that made me look double the size I am, was difficult to say the least. Believe me, smocks and tops that fall from the bust do not look good if you're large busted. Something with sufficient material across the bust and then fitted and shaped to your body with a lower neckline does. Things that button down the front gape, tops without buttons work far better. Now this is not exactly rocket science, and I can't be the only woman with an ample cleavage, so why do designers not design for us?
This brings me on to problem number two. Trouser leg length! Designers and buyers please note, not all women have legs that go up to their arm pits. I wandered round the men's departments with Eric and there were a variety of leg lengths in all waist sizes, most relatively easy to find. However, returning to the women's section no such luxury existed. True the petite sections do tend to stock trousers with a shorter leg - usually too short, but the whole cut of the garment is different and they tend to be too low on the hips as well. So, I ended up buying trousers that are too long and being useless with a sewing needle, will now have to find someone to shorten them for me so that they still look half way decent.
All this reminds me of exactly why I don't usually go shopping for clothes - I end up feeling deformed and close to tears. I'm told that most women love clothes shopping and I think that if I could ever find anything that fitted properly I could too, but that day seems as far away as ever. But, last week was an achievement for me, I no longer felt odd or close to tears. I am who I am. When I look in a mirror with my rational head on, I know that I'm not a freak. The problem isn't me, it's the designers and the buyers and the commercial world that places us all in little boxes.
Half Way To A Diagnosis
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Some days remain clearly etched in your mind, where you were and what you were doing at a particular moment in time remain with you for ever. Friday April 13th 2007 was just such a day. I received a phone call from the Warwick Justice Centre to say that Eric had collapsed in agony at work and they'd called an ambulance to take him to hospital.
Arriving at the hospital, I had no need to ask where he was, I only had to follow the screams. The doctors were concerned that even with using what they referred to as hefty does of morphine and anti-spasmatic drugs they were still unable to control his pain. However, despite various tests over the following months, they weren't able to establish what was causing the pain despite surmising it was neurological in nature and controlling it, to some extent, with drugs.
After months of waiting Eric eventually had a CT scan in December. This in it self was a story. Various scan appointments had been sent to some made up address that doesn't exist - nobody was able to say why as the address on his medical records is correct. We eventually discovered this when our brilliant postman eventually managed to deliver one of them some months later based only on a name. Having eventually received an appointment Eric arrived at the hospital at the duly appointed time. They asked him to take his top off and sit in the waiting room in a pretty little floral gown which didn't go round him and left him exposed and looking pretty silly. I hate the way in which hospitals do this, especially as it's so unnecessary and would never happen if you were paying privately. The story of what happened once they called him for the scan can only do told second hand, but they couldn't find a vein, so had to call a doctor for help. By the time they'd managed to insert the necessary tubes they'd managed to send his blood shooting all round the room. Eric being the brave soul that he is.....NOT, by this time was in pain and was telling them in no uncertain terms that he would not EVER be having another scan and why wasn't it like they show on the television where you simply lie down and go into a tube!!
Since then, we've sat and waited and waited for the results, because of course it's not important to tell somebody why they are experiencing so much pain. But, eventually on Wednesday, nine months after he collapsed, Eric had half an answer as to what is causing the pain. I say half an answer, because they still aren't sure exactly what is going on and have named two possibilities. It would appear that Eric has a problem with his spine. The scan has shown that he has extensive growths of bone off his spine that are compressing on nerves, hence the pain and the reason for the pain not being in a consistent place. There is also significant inflammation which would explain his tiredness and sweats. The doctor had an accent that was difficult to understand, but, we think he said that it was caused by either Ankylosing Spondylitis or Forestier's Disease. Not being an expert rheumatologist he was unable to give us much information, other than to say that he'd refer the matter back to our GP who he hoped would refer Eric to a Rheumatologist.
Me being me, then wanted to know why we'd previously been told that tests had shown that Eric did not have an autoimmune disorder since it would appear to me that both scenarios being presented to us were in fact just that. Having checked Eric's notes, the Dr said that they'd only checked for a small number of autoimmune disorders that normally affect the chest. That definitely wasn't what was said to us previously.
As I've said before, I'm a real worrier, but I worry about the unknown not the known. Knowing what was causing the pain was a real relief. Yes, neither of these two options are the best news that we could have had, but hey, we're both getting old and have to expect things to go wrong with our bodies. The reassuring aspects of the whole thing is that Eric's now had a number of scans, xrays and tests and they haven't come up with anything life threatening.
Removing Barriers To Success
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I've always said that I could never work in a civil service position. Having autistic tendencies, I'm rule bound, and the multitude of regulations, and statutory requirements which stifle initiative and prevent improvements or anything happening would drive me to distraction.
So, how was I persuaded to become a parish councillor? Moreover, not just a parish councillor, but one who chairs a committee charged with regenerating business within a large hall in need of renovation. I've only been trying for a month, but already it's apparent that many of the problems that the hall faces are caused by it being shackled by being run by committee. Things that should be sorted at the discretion of the Manager in minutes, take months to be resolved, if at all. Every little move, that differs in the slightest form needs committee approval. Requests for quotes again need committee approval.
Just over a week ago, it was agreed by committee that we should organise a Mother's Day Event and an International Women's Day. Both to be organised and run with no money and relying totally on the goodwill of the community. A hard enough job in itself but, virtually impossible when you add in the petty bureaucracy that stifles parish councils. I'm now told that I can't speak to anybody or write to anybody to ask for help until I have specific approval from the committee when they meet again on February 20th. So, I'm now expected to pull Mother's Day together including getting performers, advertising and selling tickets in the few days between February 21st and March 2nd.
Because of my autistic tendencies, I have no problems in obeying rules. Indeed, I find it difficult to deviate from them and worry endlessly when I do. But, I've read and read the rule books and statute law and no where is there anything that requires all this. Yes, I'm not allowed to act on behalf of the council without their approval, but in agreeing to allow the events to be organised, and it was a unanimous vote, I thought we had such approval.
Since I've stopped working to look after Ashleigh, I've gradually got out of the habit of needing to sleep every minute that I'm not actually fully occupied. Since I've been interacting with the outside world again, I find myself slipping back into the need for excessive sleep. It's my safety valve and the only way I can cope with the confusion of a world that I really don't understand. The job of promoting the hall is one I can do quite easily if I'm allowed to. The task of coping with people is something that I know I will continue to find difficult and confusing.
So, how was I persuaded to become a parish councillor? Moreover, not just a parish councillor, but one who chairs a committee charged with regenerating business within a large hall in need of renovation. I've only been trying for a month, but already it's apparent that many of the problems that the hall faces are caused by it being shackled by being run by committee. Things that should be sorted at the discretion of the Manager in minutes, take months to be resolved, if at all. Every little move, that differs in the slightest form needs committee approval. Requests for quotes again need committee approval.
Just over a week ago, it was agreed by committee that we should organise a Mother's Day Event and an International Women's Day. Both to be organised and run with no money and relying totally on the goodwill of the community. A hard enough job in itself but, virtually impossible when you add in the petty bureaucracy that stifles parish councils. I'm now told that I can't speak to anybody or write to anybody to ask for help until I have specific approval from the committee when they meet again on February 20th. So, I'm now expected to pull Mother's Day together including getting performers, advertising and selling tickets in the few days between February 21st and March 2nd.
Because of my autistic tendencies, I have no problems in obeying rules. Indeed, I find it difficult to deviate from them and worry endlessly when I do. But, I've read and read the rule books and statute law and no where is there anything that requires all this. Yes, I'm not allowed to act on behalf of the council without their approval, but in agreeing to allow the events to be organised, and it was a unanimous vote, I thought we had such approval.
Since I've stopped working to look after Ashleigh, I've gradually got out of the habit of needing to sleep every minute that I'm not actually fully occupied. Since I've been interacting with the outside world again, I find myself slipping back into the need for excessive sleep. It's my safety valve and the only way I can cope with the confusion of a world that I really don't understand. The job of promoting the hall is one I can do quite easily if I'm allowed to. The task of coping with people is something that I know I will continue to find difficult and confusing.
Disorganised Thinking
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The lion in the Wizard of Oz always thought he was cowardly but he was told that he was merely the victim of disorganised thinking. Sometimes walking away from something and returning to fight another day is wisdom not cowardice, being scared doesn't make you weak if you face those fears. Courage is about facing up to what you are afraid of.
Ashleigh always used to tell me that he was a a "scaredy cat," because he was afraid of just about everything. He thought he was a coward, but actually he was and is, one of the bravest people I know. Ashleigh faces up to his fears in a way that few other people are able. Imagine a world where the sounds that you hear cause you unbearable pain and stop you functioning and thinking, imagine a world where you don't recognise the faces of the people you know, imagine a world where you don't understand the subtle body language, facial expressions and tone of voice that give you clues as to the unspoken meaning of words. Ashleigh has to cope with that everyday, of course the world is frightening to him, but he still faces it. That's courage, not cowardice.
I'm proud of my son, and I hope that he knows it. I admire his courage, and I hope that some day I can make him believe that he's one of the bravest, most courageous people that I know.
Brrrrr.... Cold
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It seems a long time ago now that we were in Canada. The photos are not the best I've ever taken, it was too overcast to get many good photos, but even with poor photos, it's hard not to be impressed by the beauty and grandeur that is Canada.
I miss the solitude, the peace and quiet, the tranquility. I love getting back to nature and being away from the worries of modern life. If I ever win multi-millions, I'm going to make sure that I live somewhere away from it all. I still want all the modern conveniences, and to be able to get to civilisation within a two hour drive, but I want to be away from the hassle of having to deal with things I don't understand, complications that seem to arise from nowhere and the anxiety that it causes.
Have Bike, Will Travel
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I don't blog for months, and then I post twice in one day.
This layout has been lying around for months unfinished because it just would not go right, but I love the photo and so have have decided not to bin it.
Eric commented on how formally he's dressed with his jacket and shirt. He seems to remember that he was always dressed in this way. Life was definitely very different when Eric and I were young. We both remember having the freedom to roam for miles unsupervised from quite a young age. We'd spend hours outside only returning home when we were hungry.
Of course. all sorts of other things were different then too, television was only on for a few hours, videos, computers and dvds unheard of, so we had to entertain ourselves. Was it a safer age? Well, there wasn't as much traffic, so in that respect, yes. But, I'm not convinced it was safer in any other respect. Children did go misiing and were killed. I spent many hours in hospital because of the accidents I had. But, you learnt to be independent and most children survived despite some minor injuries. Were those days better or worse? Probably neither, just different.
The Important Things In My Life
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Itā??s been a long time since I did any scrapbooking or blogging, but today Iā??ve done both. Life has been busy, sometimes challenging, sometimes interesting, sometimes just plain confusing. Scrapbooking and blogging help me to sort out the confusion and to put into perspective what is important to me.
Throughout the last twenty years, there has been one steady, supportive influence in my life, my husband, Eric. I am such a worrier. Itā??s really important to me to do the right thing. When I make mistakes, I obsess constantly over them. I have this absolute need to put them right. Rationally, I know that often what I regard as mistakes arenā??t. I know that there are shades of grey and that things are rarely black and white. I know that I donā??t treat others as harshly as I treat myself, judging others is something that I just donā??t do, I just accept them as they are. So why am I so hard on myself? Why do I apply such wonky thinking to my own actions but, not to others? Why do I worry so much about upsetting others when I really donā??t care what others think of me? Who listens to all these worries and supports me through them? My husband, Eric.
I know that I donā??t tell Eric enough how much I love him. Itā??s something that I find very difficult. But, I know that he knows that heā??s everything to me. Itā??s Eric who is always there as a sounding board. Itā??s Eric who helps me to rationalise my thoughts. Itā??s Eric who puts up with all my anxieties and helps me through them. I have found that through the most difficult times of my life, I have also found the greatest happiness. Such times always make me realise what is most important in life, and helps me to take pleasure in the small things that often go overlooked. I am truly lucky. Not because I win lots of prizes, I donā??t. Not because I lead a charmed life in which things always go well for me, they donā??t. Not because I can have everything I could possibly want in life, I canā??t. But, because I have a family who support me 100%, who donā??t judge me, and who accept me as I am. However confusing life outside my front door may be, within the safety of my home I have the luxury of a loving husband and son. At the end of the phone, I have the luxury of a brother or two sisters who will help me put things into perspective and who will be there for me. And, I have a friend, who despite her own problems and difficulties, will listen to my concerns and help me work through them.
I have what is really important is life, so I know I'm really lucky.
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