Bloody Ears!!

Ok so Richard took Jamie to the ENT department while I whimpered at home with a migraine. The doctor was not as helpful as he might have been and insisted in squirting something nasty in Jamie's ears. He then declared that there was nothing wrong. Well, to be fair they haven't been weeping lately so we thought great, problem solved. Or not.



About ten this morning school phoned to say that there was blood coming from Jamie's left ear (the one that was most trouble). Instant panic. With the hydrocephalus we have to be watchful of the signs that the pressure has gone up. One of the signs id bleeding ears. So it was a dash to school and then to the doctors.



Turns out that the infection is back. Whatever the ENT doc did caused more harm than good. Our GP was NOT impressed. SO Jamie's back on the antibiotics. Which means another delay in his lumber puncture. We have already had to cancel it twice because of this ruddy infection. Ho hum.

Now the lovely Lane recently asked us what the fourth picture in the fourth file was on our computers. Well I was sure it would be a picture of the roof in various stages of decay. Bit its wasn't it was Charlie. ( I can't seem to get blogger to put the photo here where I want it!!
Charlie was a very superior Siamese fighting fish, no longer with us.

And for those of you following it, Mulberry Gin Chapters 4 and 5 and on number 2 blog.

My little Polyotter.

Jamie had his second proper swimming lesson yesterday. We started last week and he really wasn't sure to begin with. I was a little apprehensive because we tried last year and he didn't engage with it at all. Then he had one of those inflatable rings with a built in seat. He would just sit there and bob about and take no notice of anything much.

But he loved it! His little face was a picture, he just lit up. He hung back to start with. But Vicky (the teacher) lifted him into the water and he was away. She has to keep hold of him and help him, but he giggled and sang the whole time.

This time we got him a Polyotter suit. It's like a regular swimming costume that we girlies wear, but with built in floats all around. So he can get into the water properly. And he has a different teacher this time, and only H instead of all the other Little Rays. So there are just the two of them with Vicky. And I haven't been going in with him this time, so he takes more notice of Vicky. And I get to watch him. He looks so cute! I'll try and get some pics next week.

The week will start with yet another hospital appointment. This one is with the ENT chap. Jamie had grommets put in in 07 and his GP thinks something might be going wrong with one of them, which is why his ear infection is hanging on so stubbornly. Saying this his left ear had stopped weeping now. Isn't that just the way!

New Chapters.

Just to let you know that chapters 2 and 3 are now on Writing not Reading.

Mulberry Gin

If you look to your right you will see a link to 'Writing not Reading'. I have just set this up to post Mulberry Gin, and anything else that might follow. Click there if you want to read the opening chapter. I don't know if I'll post the whole thing, I'll see how it goes.

She said no...

Had an email a few minuets ago from the agent who had the manuscript for Mulberry Gin. She has had it since September and I was hoping that was a good sign. But it wasn't.

It was a no. A quite nice no, but still a no. She was my last hope. So now, when it comes back, it'll go in a draw. I'm not going to waste anymore time on it. I'm half way through DV so I'll just carry on with that.

She gave her reasons, and I have to say I can see her point. My writing has come on since I wrote MG so hopefully DV will do better. It certainly couldn't do any worse. But at least I had a go.

Maybe I'll post a chapter a week on here or something, then at least it won't have been a complete waste of time.

A bump on the head and a bit of a rant.

Well I had just sat down to catch up on all your lovely blogs when the phone rang. It was Jamie's teacher to say he had had a fall in the playground, which had resulted in a bump on the head and a nose bleed. They are very aware that the hydrocephalus means we have to be very careful about him bumping his head, especially on his front right side where most of the fluid is. Today he had fallen backwards, which he usually does as his head is so much bigger and heavier than average.

She was very calm but wanted to know if I wanted him to go to the local medical centre or should they call an ambulance? I also stayed calm, and said that it would be best if they took him to the medical centre and we would meet them there. It takes twenty odd minuets to get into town from here and they were only just down the road. So the deputy head and one of the TA's took him down. I dashed upstairs to fetch Pooh Bear and off we went.

When we got there he was sitting on his TA's knee having a lovely time being fussed over by two lovely nurses. He was fine. After a bit of paper work we were allowed to go home. He spent the rest of the afternoon on the computer and has just gone up to bed as if nothing had happened! The nurse said he is to have tomorrow off school and to let him have a quiet day! Some hope. To be honest I'd rather have him bouncing around than sitting quiet, at least I know he's ok if he's bouncing.

And now to the aforementioned rant.
Did anyone else read the Daily Mail article last week about the new test for autism? Now I don't get the Mail, but my parents do. So there we were sitting having a cup of tea and the paper was on the table. I started flicking through and saw a headline mentioning autism, so I read on. And I was horrified. This woman was telling the tale of some friends of hers who have an autistic son. I don't think it could have been any more negative. According to her he was a monster who had ruined his whole families lives. Now I know some autistic children can be very challenging, Jamie is at school with a couple who are. But to label them as monsters!!
The article ended by saying that it would have been better if the mother had been able to have the test and had aborted him.

Now I accept that the test might be welcomed by some. And I can see that having advanced warning that there is going to be something going on with your child that you need to prepare for might be a good thing. Having one autistic child it is quite likely that any more children could also be. But to suggest that people should abort because of autism is a very dangerous, and irresponsible thing to imply. There is enough prejudice out there without adding to it without even having first hand experience.
So I wrote and told them so. I suggested that they talk to a family like ours who have had nothing but positive experiences. A debate like this must be balanced. I have had no reply.

Ok, rant over. Sorry but it got up my nose. Normal service will be resumed in the next post.

The fantasy man and the ruddy tax man!

I'm so chuffed that so many of you liked my story 'Living the Dream'. I thought you (rainbowmummy) might like to know who the fantasy man is that Ally drifts off with to escape her vile husband. Well here he is (I can't seem to get blogger to inset pic into the text, it always puts them above!). He is Morten Harket. If any f you over 30's remember the 80's pop group A-ha, then you will know who I mean. I was mad about him in my teens and, now and again, he pops back into my head. This makes me sound like a nutty fan, but I've come across some of those and I promise you I'm not. But the first few lines of the story are from a dream I had involving Mr Harket a few months ago. I have had ideas come out of dreams before, they can be very fruitful source material.

Someone I will NOT be dreaming about is the ruddy tax man. I stupidly decided this year that we would do the business tax return online this time. Well I won't be doing that again! I've already waisted half the morning. Still I won't bore you with a rant, I might call their help line and rant direct! If anyone else is doing the same at the mo, then you have my sympathies.

Now a brief technical question. I'm having a blond moment (and as I am blond with an hons degree I can say that). I notice that most of you have names or words highlighted and we can click on them and be taken to another blog or a web site. Ok so how do I do that then? I've tried and failed so far. Maybe I'm just not cut out for this technology business!! All advice gladly welcome.

Snow Cake and lost cats.

A few weeks ago rainbowmummy told of the film Snow Cake and how good it was. I have just opened the Radio Times to see that it is on tonight at 11.10pm on BBC Two. I have the machine set up to record it.

Some very sad news. One of our oldest cats, Poppy, has left us. Thursday night she suddenly became quite unwell, struggling to breath and rather unhappy looking. It was late so we decided to keep an eye on her. By bedtime she seemed a little better so it was decided to take her to the vets first thing in the morning. Richard was the last to bed and said that she had asked to go out about 1am. He let her go, followed her a little way down the garden with a torch and was happy that she seemed ok.

I was the first up yesterday morning and was instantly aware that something was not right because she was not miaowing for her breakfast. She was always a very vocal little cat. I had a horrid feeling and went in search. She was no where downstairs so I had a look out of the back door. And there she was. She was half curled up on the grass by the door, covered in frost. She had obviously taken herself out to die. It upset me so much that she had to die outside in the bitter cold like that. I know cats will do this sort of thing, but even so. I gathered her stiff little body up and brought her in to the warm. We buried her in a nice spot in the garden.

Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive about my story in the last post. It makes me think that I may not be waisting my time!

Please be kind

Decided not to have a wallow in the current bought of depression. Instead I thought I'd post a short story. I realised that although I bang on about it all the time I haven't actually posted much writing. I posted this story ages ago before anyone was listening.

All comments would be welcome, but if you really hate it say so nicely please!

Living the Dream.

I push the glass door and glide into the hotel. It’s full of light and air. The huge space seems to go up and up for ever. I’m wearing a floral dress of the finest cotton. It floats in the air, but also clings around my body. The off the shoulder cut and bias skirt is sexy, but the floral print is innocent and feminine, the perfect combination. My hair is down and flowing over my shoulders, falling around in long, soft curls. My ballet pumps make no sound on the tiled floor, and to begin with he doesn’t notice me. Then the swish of my skirt catches his eye and he turns. Once he’s seen me he can’t take his eyes off me. His gaze follows me as I walk across to the reception desk. I turn, catching his eye. I glance down quickly, but I can’t help the smile that escapes. He has turned around so that he can still watch me as I wait at the desk. I can feel him behind me, even though he is still on the other side of the room. I glance over my shoulder and give him the smallest of smiles. Then the receptionist greets me and gives me my key. As I turn away to go to the stairs I can see him approaching the desk. He’s saying something to the girl and gesturing in my direction. She’s smiling and I see her write something down for him. Then he turns to watch as I disappear up the stairs to my room…

His fist comes crashing down on the kitchen table and I feel myself jump.
‘I said where’s the tea?!’ He shouts into my left ear. I wince as the sound hits my eardrums.
‘Sorry. Sorry. I’ll do it now.’ I hurry up and go to the kettle. Shit. I should have heard him come in. I was listening for him. Then I closed my eyes for a second. Shit.
‘Is that all you do all day? While I work myself to death eh? Sit around daydreaming? Bloody hell.’ He pulls his boots off and flings them in the corner, bits of dried mud scattering across the floor I’d spent all morning mopping. I sigh.
‘What was that? What have you got to sigh about?’
‘Nothing. I wasn’t sighing, just taking a deep breath.’
‘Huh.’ He snorts and lights up. Now the kitchen will reek of cigarette smoke as well. I don’t sigh again.
‘What’s for dinner?’
‘Bacon and eggs. Is that ok?’
‘ ‘Spose it’ll have to be won’t it?’
‘I can do something else if you’d rather.’ I rack my brains trying to think what else we might be able to have. My money doesn’t come thought till tomorrow so I haven’t done the shopping yet.
‘Don’t bother. I’m going for a bath.’ And he’s gone. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Well it could have been worse. I take his boots out to the back step and scrape the mud off with an old knife, banging them together to get the last bits off. Then I sweep the kitchen floor and empty and wash the ashtray. I listen to the sounds coming from the bathroom. When I hear the water start to gurgle down the plughole I put the bacon on and start the oil heating. By the time he re-emerges it’s ready. He sits down in silence and I put his plate in front of him. He attacks his food, shovels it in. Egg drips down his chin and I have to look down. I can’t eat anymore and push my plate away. He looks up.
‘I don’t work all hours so you can chuck it in the bin you know. Give it here it you’re not going to eat it.’ I hand him my plate and he scrapes the remains onto his own. I sit back down and stare at the floor until he’s finished.
‘Right.’ He says getting up and rubbing his hands together. ‘Pub.’ I watch him go to my bag, get my purse out, empty it, and fling it back on the chair. Without another word he’s gone. He’ll be out all evening now.

I hear a quiet tap at my hotel room door. My heart skips a beat and I hold my breath. The tapping comes again. I look in the mirror and run my fingers through my hair. Slowly I walk across the room and gently open the door. There he is. Oh God he’s beautiful. My breath catches in the back of my throat.
‘The girl at the desk gave me your room number. I hope you don’t mind?’
‘No.’ I whisper. He’s wearing those tight black leather trousers he wears on stage sometimes, and his white shirt is open just enough. I bite my bottom lip and look away, I mustn’t stare. When I look up again his eyes are on me and he has that smile, the one I’ve seen so often in photos.
‘I was wondering if I might take you out for dinner?’ He has one hand resting on the top of the door frame and he’s looking into my eyes.
‘I’d like that.’ And I take the hand he offers me. As soon as my fingers touch the palm of his hand my whole body explodes, and it feels like a hundred ice cubes have been dropped down the back of my dress, my spine quivers.
The food is wonderful I’m sure, but I don’t taste it. I ache all over with longing. Every time I look up he’s looking at me, and it’s a look that makes me tremble, I know he’s thinking what I’m thinking.
Neither of us eats very much and we both pass on coffee. Slowly we walk back up to my room. As soon as we leave the restaurant he takes my hand again and he doesn’t let it go. My skin seems to have melted into his and I have to look down to see where I stop and he begins. Finally we reach my room. I linger over getting my key and opening the door. Silently he watches me, I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. In a moment I’m going to turn, I’m going to have to say goodnight, the evening will be over.
Before I can say anything he has taken my hand and pulled me towards him. I press my other hand on his chest; his heart is beating as fast as mine and I wonder who will expire first. I open my mouth to say something but he dips his head and kisses me. His arms slip round my waist and I feel his hands on my back, burning through the thin fabric of my dress. I lace my fingers around the back of his neck, his hair brushing against my skin. I don’t close my eyes, I want to see him. I want to be sure he’s really there, that this is really happening.
He shifts his weight and pushes me gently against the door frame. He stops kissing my mouth and moves down to my neck and bare shoulders. Oh God. I can hear myself gasp every time his lips touch me. With a quick movement that I don’t see he spins us round and in through the open door, kicking it shut behind him. He stands before me panting slightly, I’m sure I’ve stopped breathing.
‘God you’re beautiful’ He whispers. When he pulls me to him again I can feel the effect I’m having on him thought the leather of his trousers. I let my hand slide down and over. I hear him groan and feel his back arch towards me.

The back door bangs and my eyes snap open. I pull the duvet up tighter round me and bury down into the pillows. I can hear him thumping about, the fridge door bangs, that’ll be the milk gone for the morning. I close my eyes tight and calm my breathing, turning to face the wall. By the time he fumbles up the stairs and into the bedroom I’m breathing deeply and evenly. Now he’s hopping around on one leg getting his trousers and socks off, now he’s taking his shirt off. I hear a thud and a curse; he’s banged his arm on the wardrobe again. There’s silence, then I feel him flop into bed. I keep my breathing level and keep perfectly still. I can feel his hand, clammy and cold, on my back, I screw my eyes up tighter. His stale breath clouds round me and I have to stifle a cough. He’s pushing his whole body up against my back now. His breath is coming faster and faster and I can feel him rubbing himself against my thighs. He starts grunting like a stuck pig and I have to focus on the patterns dancing on the backs of my eyes to stop myself gagging. Eventually he lets out a loud groan and lolls onto his back. Seconds later there’s snoring.
Carefully I get out of bed and plod to the bathroom. I put on a clean pair of pyjama bottoms from the airing cupboard. Then I go to the kitchen and make myself black tea.
When I get back to bed he’s rolled over to face the wall, taking the duvet with him. Carefully I climb back onto my side and hope the heating comes on soon.
I wake with a start and look at the bedside clock, six. His alarm will go off in half an hour and he’ll want his tea. I ease myself up and creep downstairs. I pull my coat on over my pyjamas and push my bare feet into shoes. I take the five-pound note from behind the hall mirror and shove it in my pocket. With practiced skill I silently open the front door and hurry to the corner shop. I’ve got the milk got back home and got back into bed before the alarm goes off. When it does he roll out of bed with eyes still half closed, and his feet take him to the bathroom without his knowledge. While he’s in there I go and make breakfast.
‘I’ll be late tonight.’ He says, spraying toast crumbs across the table.
‘Oh that’s a shame.’ I turn away so he can’t see the smile that has escaped.
‘Yeah well, can’t be helped.’ He doesn’t look up. I wonder what this one’s called.
‘Will you want dinner?’
‘I’m still eating my bloody breakfast woman. Christ.’
‘I was just wondering if you’ll be home for dinner that’s all.’
‘For fuck sake stop nagging will you. I don’t know what time I’ll be home. For God’s sake you’re not my fucking mother, I don’t have to get your permission for every little thing.’ He raises his hand and I flinch before I can stop myself. He burst out laughing. I relax a little and start collecting the breakfast things. When the blow comes I’m not expecting it and I stagger and have to grab hold of a chair to steady myself. The laugh goes up a gear and he brings his face right up close to mine. I can smell the stale beer from last night. I straighten myself and pick up the knife I’d dropped. I carry everything over to the sink and start washing up. I keep my back to him so he can’t see the tears. I hear him go out into the hall, then the door slams. I slump against the sink and put my hand up to my face. He used to be careful and make sure it never showed. I didn’t need to go and look, I knew what I’d see.
I plunge my hands back in the hot water and carry on with the dishes.
I feel his arms circling around my waist, his firm body pressed against my back and I lean into him. As I wash mugs and plates I feel his lips start to caress my neck and his hands slide up to my breasts. I gasp and grip the edge of the sink. I close my eyes and give myself over to him. It was more real than it had ever been before and I let it take me, let him take me.
It’s past eight and he’s still not home. I made dinner anyway, salad, and put his in the fridge. I do the ironing, tidy round, take the rubbish out. Eventually I make a cup of tea and put the telly on. Just as I sit down he burst through the door.
‘Sitting on your fat arse again I see.’ He slurs and leers at me.
‘No, no I was just…’
‘Being a lazy cow as usual, I can see that.’ He staggers through to the kitchen and sits down at the table.
‘Well?’ he looks up at me as I follow him in. I get the plate from the fridge and unwrap the cling film.
‘What the fuck’s this?’ He’s staring at his plate.
‘Salad. I wasn’t sure what time you’d be in so I thought I’d do something that wouldn’t spoil.’ I can hear my voice getting higher and tighter and I can feel the tea towel being throttled in my hand.
‘Salad!? Christ woman I’ve been working like a dog all day and you give me fucking salad.’ He picks the plate up and hurls it across the kitchen at me. I duck just in time and it crashes against the wall, tomato sliding down onto the floor. I pick up the dishcloth and go over to the mess.
‘Leave it!’ He yells. ‘Leave it and get me something proper to eat.’
I scuttle to the freezer and thank God today was giro day. I pull out a steak pie that will microwave, and a bag of chips. He watches me, hand twitching. When he sees what I’ve got he frowns and sits back down to read the paper. While the food cooks I make him more tea, but he waves it away and points to the fridge for beer. Reluctantly I pull one out for him. He knows I get the money today, he knows there’ll be beer in the fridge, and I know that by the time he’s finished eating it’ll be gone.
And I’m right. He goes to the fridge and mutters when he realises there’s no more.
‘Is that all I’m worth eh? One lousy four pack?’ He turns to glare at me.
‘It’s all I could afford.’ I say meekly.
‘You could get more if you didn’t waste so much money on yourself.’
‘I didn’t, I don’t…’ And I don’t. I can’t remember the last time I bought something for myself.
‘Crap. Where else does it all go?’
‘Food, electric, the phone….’ I know it’s no use, I don’t know why I still try to defend myself.
‘Bollocks. That’s bollocks. With what you get and what I give you there should be plenty.’ I watch him clench and unclench his fists.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Oh you will be.’

I’m back in my hotel room. I’ve no idea what the time is or how long I’ve been here. I can hear soft breathing beside me and I turn over. There he is, lying beside me. He’s on his front with his head turned towards me. The sheet has slipped and is just covering his buttocks. I stare at his naked back, burn the image on my memory. I want to touch him; I want to cover his bare skin in kisses. But that would wake him. I realise that I’m naked too and I smile as I remember.
After he told me how beautiful I was he gently unzipped my dress. I gave a small shrug and it fell to the ground. I hear him catch his breath and he started pulling at his shirt, I went and helped him. In moments we were both naked, facing each other. I never found naked men very attractive, not full frontal like that. But he was fabulous, I mean really fabulous. My eyes ran over every inch of him, locking it all away for later, he was doing the same. But it didn’t last; we couldn’t stand there like that for long. We lunged at each other and soon we were smothering each other in fat, wet kisses. I wasn’t nervous anymore; I didn’t care about anything but this one moment.
By the time we hit the bed we were breathless and sweating and giggling like children. When was the last time I laughed? He pulled me to him and we clung together to steady ourselves. Calmer now he rolled me over onto my back and rolled himself on to me. I felt him slip his knee between my legs, but I didn’t need the encouragement. I wrapped my legs around his waist and arched my back to bring him in. I held my breath to stop the cry I knew was coming. The room pitched and rolled around us and at one point I was sure we were floating. When it came I felt it from my toes to my hair roots, wave after wave shacking through me. My eyes snapped open and I was sure I had died of it. It was only when I heard, and then felt him following me that I knew I hadn’t.
And now we are lying here in the soft light of the early morning and I’m watching him sleep. I can hear something outside, out through the open window. It reminds me that there are other people in this world, but I don’t care. Whatever it is they might be doing it has nothing to do with me anymore. I prop myself up on my elbow and watch him sleeping. Gently I run my finger down his spine and he twitches. The noise comes again, someone shouting. Briefly I look across at the window, but there’s nothing there. I turn my eyes back to him. I want him to wake; I want him to make love to me again. But I also want him to stay like that so that I can look at him forever.
‘Oi! Hey!’
I can feel something slipping, moving away. He’s getting fuzzy and out of focus.
‘Bloody hell! Oi!’
A heaviness comes over me, a darkness. He’s fading, leaving me. No, I’m leaving him. I can feel my feet on the cold kitchen floor and the cold water. I can feel a pain in my shoulders and all I can see now is the darkness of my closed eyes. A sudden pain in my shin snaps my eyes open and I gaze at my kitchen. I’m up to my elbows in cold washing up water and my feet have gone to sleep.
‘I’m talking to you.’ He kicks me again. ‘What the bloody hell’s going on?’
I look round at him blankly. I was washing up. We’d had breakfast, he’d hit me again, gone to work and I was doing the washing up. What was he doing back so soon?
‘I’m washing the breakfast things. I thought you’d gone to work?’
‘That was nine hours ago you stupid bitch. Have you been stood there all day? Jesus Christ! What about dinner?’
I look round in confusion. He’s right though, the clock says six and it’s getting dark out. When I look down my hands are deeply wrinkled and bloodless. I pull them out of the water and dry them quickly. I don’t say anything. I dash around the kitchen doing all the things it usually takes me all morning to do. He’s watching me closely but I’m moving to quickly. In half an hour he’s sitting down to sausage and mash, the ironing's done and I’ve mopped the floor. While he eats I fleet around the rest of the house, and by the time he’s eaten it’s all done. I’ve lost a whole day, I’ve never managed that before. A few minutes, maybe as long as an hour, but a whole day!
He’s wary when I come back into the kitchen. I see him watching me out of the corner of his eye. I gather up his dirty dishes and fill the sink again with hot water. While I wash up he circles round me.
‘So what was that about?’
‘What’s that?’
‘You’re not telling me that’s normal.’
‘It’s easy to loose track of time sometimes.’ I give a small laugh.
He frowns and shakes his head. ‘I’m going out. You better be acting normal when I get back.’ He empties my purse and leaves.

I hear the back door bang and look at the bedside clock, it’s gone midnight. He’s drunk again. I hear him stumble up the stairs and curse. He leaves the bathroom door open and I can hear him. He flings the bedroom door open and I know what’s coming. I keep still and slow my breathing. He pulls my shoulder and rolls me onto my back. I keep my eyes closed.
‘Wake up.’ He slaps my face and I slowly open my eyes, trying to look like I’ve just woken up.
‘Don’t pretend you’re asleep again.’ He’s standing there in his grey underpants and socks. When he sees my eyes are open he tugs his pants down and makes for the bed. I lay still and wait. He leans over me and pushes my pyjama top up. He takes a breast roughly in each hand and squeezes. He’s making a gurgling sound in the back of his throat as he kneads me like dough. When he’s had enough of this he starts yanking at my pyjama bottoms until he’s got one leg off, that’ll do. He grabs my knees and pushes them apart. As he climbs up I close my eyes and turn my face to the wall.
‘Fucking look at me while I’m screwing you!’ And he slaps my face again. I turn back and fix my eyes somewhere near his ear. He thumps and bumps, and huffs and puffs, and then rolls off with a satisfied sigh. He flops off the bed and fumbles back into his pants, then he goes for another loud pee with background farting. While he’s gone I straiten myself up and pull the covers back over me. I see him come back in scratching and stretching. He plonks himself back on the bed and is asleep within seconds. Finally I close my eyes and roll over to face the wall.

When I look across he’s still asleep, the sheet has slipped a bit further and he’s almost naked. I bite my lip and resist the urge to run my hands all over him. I should let him sleep, after last night he needs it. I should be asleep myself, but I don’t care if I never sleep again. I tuck my hands under my pillow and content myself with watching and waiting.
Eventually his eyes start to open. He shifts slightly and looks right into my eyes, a huge beaming smile spreads across his face.
‘Good morning.’ I say.
‘It is now.’ He rolls towards me and plants a kiss on my forehead. I put my hand up and stroke his cheek. He grabs my hand and kisses my palm, oh God it’s like fireworks going off everywhere. I try and keep myself under control, but I can see the smile on his face and I know he’s teasing me. Before I can take another breath his hands are over my hips and ohh!
By lunchtime we’re exhausted and famished, reluctantly we get showered and dressed and go in search of lunch. Walking down the street I can see heads turning and people whispering as they recognise him. A few pluck up the courage to approach and ask for autographs and photos. I step aside and watch. I was like that once, dreaming and wishing. He turns back to me and takes my hand. The girls watch and I can feel their jealous eyes burning into me as we carry on down the street.
We find somewhere quiet and spend the afternoon eating and chatting. I tell him things I never thought I would tell anyone, and he listens. I find out thing about him you never read in the magazines. Together we find each other, and ourselves.
Days pass like this. I know the time is coming when he will have to go off again on tour. The holiday between finishing the last album and going on the promotional tour is ending. And I must think about what that will mean for me. Up to now we have avoided talking about the future, but it’s looming and needs to be faced.
‘I’ve been thinking.’ He says one golden afternoon. We’re sitting under a tree in Hyde Park; he’s laying with his head in my lap looking up at me. I stroke his hair and try to concentrate on what he’s saying.
‘I’ve got to go back next week and get things ready for the tour.’
‘I know.’ I sigh. ‘I’ve been trying not to think about it.’
‘Well I have been thinking about it.’ He sits up and faces me. ‘I want you to come with me. I want you to come on the tour with me. I can’t leave you here.’
I can feel the tears pricking at the backs of my eyes. He takes hold of my hand and grips it hard.
‘I love you.’ He says at last. And that’s it. The tears are streaming and I can’t speak I’m so happy; I never thought I could be this happy. All I can do is nod, but it’s enough. He kisses me and kisses me and I never, ever want him to stop.

Dean knew Ally wasn’t asleep. She’d been like that when he got up. To begin with he had been cross because he wanted his tea and his breakfast. He’d shaken her and shouted at her, he’d slapped her face a couple of times, but still she stayed there. When he got home that evening she was still there, it didn’t look like she’d moved at all. He tried again, this time he left his handprint on her cheek. Still she lay there with her face to the wall. He sat on the end of the bed and watched her for a while. Every now and then her hands would make small movements and her lips would move as if she were talking to someone. Sometimes her mouth would open and her breath would come faster, her face would flush. He banged around all evening trying to make as much noise as possible, until the neighbours started banging on the walls. Still she stayed there.
Days past. Dean moved out into the spare room, it was starting to freak him out. She hadn’t moved at all. And then there was the smell. Her mind may be somewhere else but her body was still in the here and now, and functioning. The sheets were beyond rescue and he was starting to worry. Nothing he tried worked. On the fifth day he called the doctor.
‘How long has she been like this?’ The doctor asked.
‘Five or six days.’
‘And you only just thought to call me?’ The doctor shot Dean a look that shrank him to half his size. Dean just nodded. The doctor sighed and called an ambulance.

‘We can find nothing wrong Mr Caby. Your wife is physically in good health. We ran a number of tests and Mrs Caby is not in a coma, in fact she seems to be awake. We have never come across anything like this before. There is really nothing more we can do for her here and so we are going to let her come home. We will arrange for a counsellor to come in and talk to her, try and get through to her. Something very traumatic must have happened to her to put her in this state, any idea what that might be?’ The doctor looked at Dean hard. Dean looked away and shook his head.
The next day Ally was brought home and settled in bed. A nurse came and showed Dean how to turn her and dress her bedsores. A therapist came once a week and sat on the edge of the bed softly talking to her, Dean watched from the door.
‘She moved her eyes today, they flickered slightly. That should be a good sign.’ The therapist said brightly, Dean nodded.
He made sure her feeding tube was set up properly and the drip was secure before he slipped out to the pub. He couldn’t be too long; she would need turning again in an hour. He took half a pint into the corner and watched the lads playing darts. They called him to join them, but he shook his head.
‘Poor bugger’ he heard one of them say, ‘wife’s bedridden you know, gone funny in the head they say.’
Dean pretended he hadn’t heard and left.

It’s lovely here, I’d never been out of the country before and now I’ve been to more places than I can remember. I liked Australia, but it smelled funny. America was nice, but loud, lots of bright lights as noise. No, if I had to choose a favourite stop so far it would be here, in Norway. It’s quiet and warm and safe feeling. And he’s happier than he’s been all tour, well he’s home of course. He’s taking me to all his childhood haunts, all those places that were special to him. When we get back to England I’ll do the same. It’s tiring though, all this travelling. But it’s worth it. He loves me, he tells me every day. And I’m so happy, I’ve never been so happy.

Reading Not Writing

I have just finished reading Restoring Grace by the wonderful Katie Fforde. I love her books and hate it when I finish them. This has been one of her best and I recommend it. And thank you to Debs for telling me how to get the image.

A proper post will follow soon. It might be a bit grim though as I woke this morning with the big grey cloud looming.

Minus Four! But no snow.

Jamie had his first appointment of the year today. We had to go to Holsworthy after school to see the eye lady. He did NOT want to co-operate. Every time she held up a card he looked everywhere else except at the card. He was totally in Jamie land. He can be so unpredictable. He was good, no paddying or stropping, he just smiled sweetly and looked the other way. Still she was reasonably happy and doesn't want to see him again until April.

On the way home the thermometer on the car said minus 4!!! This is Cornwall for goodness sake! Thank goodness they came and insulated the roof back in the autumn. All this cold and still no snow. Everyone else seems to be getting snow except me. I'm a big kid about snow, I love it. Mind you know I can drive I might not like it quite so much. We have had it a couple of times. The village is so beautiful in the now. It's been looking quite nice with all the frost, very Christmas cardy.

I've just been looking back over some older posts and I saw that I rashly promised myself I'd have the first draft of DV finished by my birthday, Hahahaha. Easter maybe. My birthday is six weeks(ish) away and I'm only just over half way. Still considering Mulberry Gin took several years, on and off, to finally get right I don't think I'm doing too bad. My diary says I started DV on 13th August '08 and I'm half way, not bad all things considered.

New years resolutions (!!)

Welcome 2009, please wipe you feet as I've just shampooed the carpet.

So is anyone making new years resolutions then? Every year I think about it, then decide not because I never stick to them. I thought I might try again this year. So here goes (if I make them public I might stick to them!!!).

Write more, and be more organised about it.

Get published if it kills me.

Be a better mum to Jamie.

Stop letting my own mother get to me so much.

Be calmer (when you suffer from anxiety disorder this is harder than it sounds).

Organise my time better.

Loose 2 stone (this has been on my list every year since I was 17!! never happened yet!).

Read all those books that sit there glaring at me, and don't buy anymore until I have.

No more fish tanks (3 is enough!). Although I'm with Bonnie on the Siamese fighters the house is not big enough!

Get a handle on Jamie's autism.


These are in no order of impotence. And I make no promises that in 12 months I won't be in exactly the same place I am now (oh God I hope not). But one thing the last four years had taught me is that you just don't know what is going to happen. I give you permission to nag and give me a kick up the bum now and then (just not too hard, I bruise easy).