Appreciation...

Ah the end of another year.

The time to reflect back and look at our high's and our low's, to consider what we have achieved and perhaps to think about maybe what we would like to have another bash at next year...

Pootle and I have watched TV this evening and are earnestly watching the clock for the midnight toll...just so we can go to bed. Not that this detracts from the year, but if I am completely honest...New Year's Eve just doesn't really do it for me.

All a great deal of hype for just a few minutes, however, it has made Pootle and I sit and make plans for our forthcoming year, which is worth doing.

Setting goals that may seem far fetched, but hey what is life without a challenge? Merely existing...

So goals for 2014?
Pootle is gonna be wild and wear more red lipstick...she no longer feels the need to reign in her sexual goddess and wants to show off her deviant side. Scarily, I think the caged goddess may be about to create havoc in the coming year...

As for me, red lipstick was never my colour - so 2014 will be the year for concentrating on the book. There are a lot of rejections around the corner, a lot of tears, but it feels like the last two years has been working towards this. So I will be aiming to try and get it published...it will be hard to let go of it, because it is my baby and I am not sure if it will ever be truly ready in my mind, but at some point I just have to try...

However someone said to me earlier this year, that anything worth achieving should be hard, otherwise you don't appreciate it...

So, I wish everyone who reads my blog a very Happy New Year, make a plan, meet your goals, go wild and wear red lipstick, enjoy it....and if it is a hard decision or hard work then I hope you appreciate it even more...

Have a good one :-)

Standards....

OK I am mad. At Facebook. Again.

I wrote a status about it on my Facebook page, but it wasn't enough...I feel the need to vent my anger further.

This morning while going through my newsfeed I came across a picture of a severely disabled woman, clearly disfigured - or in essence someone who doesn't fit the mould of 'attractive'. On the picture is a message saying, 'Tag a friend who would smash her'.

Thousands of people had commented and indeed done what was asked. One of my friends had commented (I am unsure in what capacity, perhaps he was disgusted as I was) and consequently, Facebook deemed it appropriate to share on my news feed as something I might like. This is not the first time something like this happened, so I reported the photo.

I reported it under the limited reasons that Facebook allows me to do....because I believe that it was harassment, suggesting sexual violence, and in general intimidating.

All good so far. I was pleased about my contribution to keeping some level of decency on Facebook. It is a wonderful networking tool, and I enjoy the fact that I can keep up with friends all over the world on it - however, Facebook apparently did not believe that I had a point. It refused to remove the photo, stating that it did not violate their standards....doesn't that say it all?

Some of you will know that a friend of my recently posted a photo in memory of her new born baby who had died in childbirth. This photo was removed under Facebook's standards of decency.

So encouraging aggression, sexual violence, harassment, intimidation to someone is perfectly adequate, but the memory of a child is inappropriate? Sorry, but who's f**king standards are these?

My only options as advised by the standards police at Facebook was for me to block the page that had posted the photo; that I had to choose to 'opt out'. Well, because of the way Facebook is run I was never given the chance to actually bloody 'opt in'.

I am sick of it. I have no interest in things I have never signed up for, just simply because a friend of mine may or may not have found something of interest, or because they commented on their great aunt's photo - stop suggesting things for me Mark Zuckerberg, and stop judging everyone by Facebook's disgustingly immoral standards.

Learning to say no...

Now I am happy to give to charities.

I have no issues with dropping money in collection boxes, supporting charitable causes when I can, however I do have issues with charitable causes who bully others into 'signing up' to their cause.

This evening I have had one at my front door. (So clearly my home isn't safe anymore from being pestered.)

This lady proceeded to give her patter about her cause, just sign up for one pound a week and I could potentially win a thousand pounds in return by committing to her charity.

I politely explained to her that I have charities that I support on a regular basis, and whilst I was in no doubt that her cause was more than worthy, I was unable to commit.

She continued with her communication of coercion, when I eventually stopped her and said again, "I am sorry but I am unable to commit to that at this present time."

Which was when her attitude changed. Her annoyance, her tactics became almost bullying and I ended up feeling guilty.

I wanted to say, why does someone have to sign up to something for the promise of something in return? Why not use the one thousand pound weekly winner cheque towards the charity? Or alternatively, please don't make me feel so god damn guilty and leave me alone!!!

I hate bullies - in their many forms, and these people think it is ok to go around to pester people to the point of making them feel so bloody guilty that they will sign anything. I remember one woman grabbing my attention as I left a well known supermarket, gripping five shopping bags and my car keys in my mouth. I was clearly in a rush. Before I knew it I had merrily signed up to a years subscription to the RSPB for my children...it wasn't until I was back home that I remembered I don't even bloody like birds!!

Needless to say, I got my mum to cancel it as I was terrified of calling them and being signed up to something else.

They are that good at making you feel guilty that you feel you have to sign up. You have to support them, because without you everything will fail and people all over the world, or in the trees or in the air will suffer - and god help you if you ever need an air ambulance, it will be my fault if they are late as my 52 quid a year would have paid for the overtime...

That's another thing - 52 quid a year!!?? That is one hell of a yearly pledge in this day and age, when we are all watching every pound and penny.

Charitable donations should be done because it is a cause that is close to your heart. Not because you have some scary female on your doorstep making you feel that the world will end if you don't. So let's be brave, let's learn to say no...I know I am.

Well, that and I was considering turning the lights off so she thinks I've gone out.

Mother Tiger...

Something terrible has happened.

As I was tucking my eldest hobbit into bed this evening he uttered the immortal words, "Mummy, I love a girl at school."

He had this big smile on his face as he was clearly so pleased that he had finally come to this decision after much emotional angst, and of course I gave him a big hug and told him I was pleased for him.

It was the conversation afterwards that has left me in a tizz. He then told me that she smiled at him at a party, but there was another boy that was want of her affections. Mother tiger on alert. Poised to strike down any potential competition lying in wait.

Then he wasn't completely sure if she liked him more and perhaps she liked the other boy more, so what could he do?
Rats.
I am not ready for this. I am not prepared to have this conversation with my baby. What resulted was a conversation that suggested it is ok to like girls, it is ok to smile back at them, it is ok to be friends with them - but sometimes they like other boys too.

I wanted to protect him. I wanted to pre-empt any anguish he may uncover if he finds out that this girl is not making eyes at him only.

Then I had this vision of years to come and quite frankly I don't like it. I want to keep him at home, surrounded by only mother love and wrapped up in a cocktail of strawberry laces, duvets and Disney films...I don't want any of them to grow up and be hurt.

I know that isn't practical. I don't want my son turning into the next Norman Bates with only a love for his mother, but I suddenly had that dreaded feeling - the realisation that they will grow into young men who will get hurt; because quite frankly they are a soppy bunch of boys who will fall in love easily.

Therefore there is nothing else for it. I will home school them and keep them away from the community at large until they are 35. That should help a bit surely?

The dark side...

Ok - I have done it. I have gone to the dark side...

I know I said I would never.
I know I promised that I simply couldn't.
I know that I suggested that it just wasn't me...but yeah, I kind of forgot about that when I saw it.

In my desire to become more organised in my hectic, plate spinning, ball juggling life - I have answered Apple's call and embraced the new iPhone C.

I confess - I love it...it is very sleek, sexy and smooth.
Does that make me a bad person? Are you ashamed of me? Does that make me...dirty?

It has already transformed my life - it talks to my Mac and it talks to my iPad - now if I can just get it to talk to the hobbits, pop the dinner on and put the cleaner around the house while I am out, my life will be complete. If Apple made cars or washing machines, think what heaven we would be living in?

In fact I was so super organised today, that I took clothes into the school for Spiderman's school production a week early...ok, admittedly I took the wrong colour in, but my little icon on my calendar told me that was my job for the day today and I did it. I was so hashtag proud of my new organisational skills...

I have added birthdays', parties invites for hobbits, anniversaries, school dates, important poker nights , etc, etc - in fact I actually don't know how I managed before with a simple handwritten diary!

The last few weeks have been a bit messy, so this has made me feel that for once - I might actually be able to truly organise Wonder Woman and her hobbits - I am invincible, I am amaze balls, I know exactly what I am doing and when...

...well, at least until the battery runs down anyway.

The sad truth...

I had the misfortune to visit an elderly relative in hospital this evening.

Not just because he has broken his hip and is suffering from a chest infection, but alas because of the lack of nursing empathy I witnessed first hand today.

I am a big supporter of the NHS. I love the fact that we have free health care and for the most part, amazing staff who help us in so many ways; in an emergency; with our concerns over our children; GP support etc etc - however sometimes, just sometimes, there are shit nurses who do crappy jobs.

My elderly relative is tired of trying to excuse their non-responsive behaviour, lack of compassion and general ignorance of his condition. He is actually becoming more unwell by their attitude and lack of caring, to the point that I fear he may lose the will to continue living.

He is talked over whenever he does actually get someone to answer his bell call. His opinion and knowledge on his own long standing condition of diabetes is ignored and dismissed, even though he has been managing his diabetes for over 50 years; and today I actually witnessed a Staff Nurse call him a 'muppet' whilst he tried to explain how he felt about something.

They have taken everything away from him. His independence, his ability to talk coherently and converse...he has even been waiting for five days for his personal effects to be transferred from the previous hospital he was at, so they have managed to leave him without any dignity either. Just consider what an 80 year old's man personal effects may be.

Being a patient in hospital is not something any of us would choose to do. None of us want to be in an environment where we are effectively bed bound, or living with five other strangers on a permanent basis so why do some nurses behave as though we are an inconvenience? Why is it necessary to mistreat and dismiss the simple basic human requirement of company, conversation and compassion?

Once again - I know this story is not something we witness on a daily basis. I am aware that there are some amazing nurses out there, who really do make it their vocation in life. Alas, there are also others who really, quite honestly, couldn't give a shit. It is those who are dangerous in my mind. Through their actions, people that we love are being bullied and being made to feel even more vulnerable than they already feel.

Now while I, and my family, are able to complain and fight on his behalf - get annoyed, check drugs charts, blood sugar levels etc, unfortunately we can not be there all the time, and the time that he is alone is exactly what I am worried about. As why go on living when you feel completely worthless...which makes that, the sad truth.

A sequel...

I am rather pleased to report that the first draft of the 'novel' is now complete.

It has now gone to four separate corners of the globe (well, the UK) to be dissected, discussed and mocked by those in the know.

Four poor unsuspecting souls who are quite prepared to read the worst insult to the English language, have offered to proof read my 'novel'. All 73,000 words (and counting) of it...I will owe them much beer, wine and a fatted calf.

It was not easy to choose four different people to read it and I thank those others who have offered to subject themselves through such pain. Please do not take offence at not being asked, as I may yet ask you for your services in the future. However for now I chose these four people because I trust that they will tell me if it's crap, where it must be re-written or alternatively burnt in some strange ceremony involving three feathers, a candle made by witches, the blood of a toad and a match.

I have everything ready but the match...

We are still a long way off from being complete. There is bound to be draft 2, 3 or 4 yet...but initial signs look hopeful and positive.

However what these four poor souls are subjecting themselves is not just reading it the once, but it is quite possible with their feedback that they will be reading it so often that they will be having nightmares about it in their sleep.

So I wanted to thank them. Lady London, Big A, Intelligent Totty and Mr 'I will motivate you if it kills me' S. I do not want to detract how important other people have been in supporting me through this venture, Pootle, L, my Dad...however the big four mentioned were all chosen for a very specific reason.

Lady London and Big A have been pushing me to write a novel for years. They have been behind the scenes encouraging and boosting my self esteem to make me feel like I should at least try. When you have friends who believe enough in you to make you want to try something that feels like it has been a dream for too many years to mention, it is incredibly empowering.

They individually have a role however, as Lady London will check my grammar whereas Big A will judge certain scenes with a fine tooth comb and check timelines and research. Being an ex-teacher and all.

As for Mr S; not only do I value his opinion greatly and am a little bit in awe of his knowledge about how to write, he has also been motivating me gradually and gently since I first told him I wanted to write a book. An excellent writer himself, he has actually been quietly giving me advice on how to overcome re-write panics, editing hang-ups, character definition and much much more. His advice has been invaluable and I know I wouldn't have finished the story by now if it wasn't for him.

Finally there is Intelligent Totty; the woman who not only has to deal with Mr S on a daily basis, but also her over anxious, stressed out friends; she is much like the feeling of calm after a storm.  I know she will read it with the freshest eyes of all and read it as it is intended to be - simply a novel. It will be her that I will look to as to whether or not it has a market, whether it really is a page turner - or just an acknowledgement of some stuff that I threw together in a few months and called it a book.

As for me, I confess to feeling a little bit of a loss while they dissect my words and make some sense out of them. The thing that has occupied my mind for far too long to mention has now been passed over  to those who will possibly make me cry with their feedback.

Hard isn't it? To let go of something that you love and know that it is quite likely not going to come back in the same way you released it.

So, I have discovered that I am a little bored of an evening now, I have a bit of extra time on my hands...well, I did...until Pootle suggested writing a sequel.

Now that is an idea....there is always gotta be a sequel eh?