Bye Bye Little Olly

Today we lost our little furry friend Olly the hamster. This morning I opened the door to the playroom and took my customary look at his green cage with all amenities, including en-suite toilet, and strained to see his tiny fluffy body in it`s usual place.  My first thought was "Oh, he must be in the toilet upstairs".  But then as I waited for his descent from the capsule, my eyes fell upon one of the many tubes in his all-singing, all-dancing deluxe cage.  In the tube leading into the lower section of the cage I could see something at the very bottom of it, which was not usual.   On closer inspection and with the aid of my specs, I realised it was Olly.

Gingerly, I edged closer to the cage, an uneasy feeling of trepidation overwhelming me.  Olly had been known to occasionally sleep in other places than his little hideaway bedroom, and I hoped, somewhat dubiously, that this was the case again this morning.  Sixth sense however, was warning me otherwise. Why would he choose to sleep in a tube rather than his cosy bedroom filled with deluxe hamster bedding?  Peering into the cage I could not see any movement at all, so figured the best thing to do would be to open the top flap of the cage.  Ordinarily this action would precipitate Olly wakening and scurrying towards the sound on the promise of food.

On opening the lid, I watched his lifeless body in the hope that I might see movement.  But there was none.  Not a flicker.  Nothing.  The fur blockage remained in the tube.  The stillness and silence was deafening as the realisation hit me. 

Backing out of the room I prepared to tell my son Cain that we had lost our funny, furry little friend Olly.

RIP Olly the Hamster



  

Brighton

Our trip to Brighton very nearly didnt happen as we nervously consulted weather updates.

Although only two and a half hours from home, the thought of spending our couple of days away dodging showers did not appeal to us at all.  The seaside can be a depressing place seen from under an umbrella.

The photos I took do not give justice to the beautifully warm weather we enjoyed in Brighton.  The first day, although not particularly sunny, was as warm as toast.  The sea breeze complimentary, with no chill, made our strolls along the seafront most enjoyable. 

Our arrival coincided with lunchtime so it wasn`t long before the traditional coastal aromas tempted us into finding a suitable eatery.  An extremely proud propietor whom I nicknamed Mario served us with the biggest chips I had ever seen and we all hungrily consumed his food with gusto watched intently by large squawking seagulls the size of small dogs. 

A local airshow provided further entertainment by flying planes in formation overhead.

Families, lovers, the world and his wife, walked leisurely along the busy seafront; narrowly missing each other due to the volume of people. Pushchairs, dogs and children jostled for position of the designated footpath. Despite this, the atmosphere was pleasant, friendly and relaxing.

We walked along the lively pier, taking in the noises, lights and ambience of such a vibrant place.  Money was pushed expectantly into slots in the pulsating arcade.  More money was lost as my daughter and I tried desperately to win a big teddy for baby Eden. The grabber just would not do as we willed it to do!

My son tried his luck on the mechanical horse race. His fist flew into the air when his nominated horse creaked across the line first!

Outside the covered arcade, on the wood slatted pier, the sea could be seen far underneath our feet. I held tightly to the pushchair.  My son and son-in-law tried scoring a goal by shooting a ball through holes in a plasterboard wall.  Unsuccessful, they watched amazed when I very nearly managed it!  I surreptiously limped for a full half hour as a result.

Down by the marina, the riggings clanked together loudly as the evening drew in.  After the hustle and bustle of the promenade, the peace and tranquility of the marina was in stark contrast.  Restaurants plied their trade by seating their diners outside overlooking the many boats anchored in the marina.  It was such a vision of beauty and serenity. 

We chose a pasta restaurant, one we hadnt tried before and eagerly awaited our meals as we had become hungry again after our afternoon by the sea.  Unfortunately the restaurant served my son-in-law a mussel dish which  resulted in him vomiting twelve times throughout the night! My daughter will be sending them an uncomplimentary email in the very near future.

Luckily, once the dodgy mussels were unceremoniously dispensed off, my son-in-law was able to enjoy our next day.  Shopping!

After a short meander through the shopping centre we headed out to the more interesting shops. The shops in Brighton are colourful, flamboyant, bohemiam and welcoming.  It soon became apparent however that dragging a nine month old baby, an eleven year old boy and a decidedly delicate son-in-law was just a tad cruel and unfair. My daughter and  I tried nipping into little shops that we couldnt resist but felt increasingly guilty as they waited in the searing heat outside.

Costa Coffee provided some refreshment in the shape of cupcakes and red berry coolers, but the heat of the day was proving to be unbearable for shopping, so we reluctantly headed back to the beach for one last wander before heading back to the car. 

I was happy with my purchase of an unusal mirror decorated by skillfully placed piano keys.  My son bought himself a "never-ending" bouncing ball, a moneybox and an extremely loud harmonica, which serenaded us for most of the journey back to Hertfordshire! 

The Rising of The Sun

Again in bed

almost asleep;

thoughts surfaced demanding my attention,

refusing to return to the dark corners of my mind

where I have sent them

many moons ago.

Nightly silence  magnifies these thoughts

and troubled memories,

bringing them to the fore

like a raging river

splashing and crashing heavily into rocks.

Images  forgotten

now projected in technocolour

inside my mind;

as clear as the brightest day

yet confused and jumbled.

Words spoken

repeated over and over again

in time with the beating of my heart

as each memory

increases in speed and ferocity.

Awake in the darkness

nothing to hear

 but the constant replays inside my head;

replays that disappear

with the rising of the sun.

Our First Date

“Hello !”

I yelled down the receiver as I squashed and balanced the handset between my shoulder and my left ear whilst holding the hot saucepan in my right hand.


“Er…is it a bad time?” came the reply.
I recognised the Irish accent and cursed quietly to myself.


“Why did I have to pick the damn phone up?”
“No, No….its fine” I lied.
“Its Mick, Do you remember me from last night?” he asked.
“Of course I do,” I giggled, rolling my eyes in exasperation.
“Hang on!” I added, “You told me your name was Jon”
“Oh, I did?” he chuckled,
“doesn’t matter, you can call me whatever you like”
“Ok, i`ll call you Jon then, i`m not calling an Irishman Mick!”
We both laughed. 

Their eyes shone with mischievousness as I explained my plans to my two youngest children.
“What if he sees us Mum?” Jemma asked.
“He wont be expecting two children to be looking for him, will he?” I replied.
“Go now and remember – man standing outside pub or sitting in convertible car outside pub”,


With that, the two of them were gone - out the front door, giggling as they ran up to the end of the road. Within three minutes they were back, standing, panting in the lounge, obviously exhilarated by their introduction to espionage.

“There was no-one there Mum” Charley squeaked, struggling for breathe as they had run the whole distance.


I sighed with relief.

I didn’t fancy him anyway and had no intention whatsoever in going on a date with him. I had agreed to meet him whilst in a state of drunkenness at my local club the previous week, even though I was not the slightest bit attracted to the gentle-speaking Irishman. I had seen him in the club on several occasions and was a little intrigued by his manner. He didn’t appear to be overly confident and didn’t look as if he was enjoying himself particularly either. My group of friends were familiar with his group of friends, but no-one took much notice of the silent Irishman with the glazed-over eyes.

“You alright Love?”,

I felt someone`s hand shaking my shoulder to rouse me. I slowly raised my head to see three men standing in front of me. I smiled and assured them I would be fine once I had found my friend, who had disappeared a while ago. I remember waffling on about us girls always sticking together and being somewhat perplexed as to why they had not returned sooner. I recognised the three guys as Frank and his two friends – one of them being Jon. They stood and attempted a light conversation with me but I was well past wanting to converse with anyone. It must have been about 1am, I had had enough to drink and my feet ached from dancing. All I wanted was for my friends to return so we could leave the club.
Eventually, it dawned on me that neither of the girls I had gone with were going to return. I was angry and confused. Jon offered to walk me to my car as long as I dropped him off in Harrow. I agreed to being escorted to the car but was not prepared to drive into Harrow.


“I`ll drop you at the end of my road in Harrow Weald” I told him.


He was happy with my offer and we took the long path back to the car together, me leaning on him for support. The club was within a mile of my home, so I saw nothing wrong in rolling the car down the hill towards home with a little alcohol in my blood. After all, there were no traffic lights to encounter and only one smallish roundabout to negotiate that was always clear in the early hours of the morning. I had a convertible escort at the time and was having trouble with a stiff catch on the roof. Consequently, I was not always able to do the left hand side of the roof up properly. On this particular occasion the roof was loose as I had been unable to force the catch closed. I informed Jon that he must hold on to the roof as we drove down hill. I was passed the point of being embarrassed about my cars` inadequacies and giggled at the silliness of the situation all the way home. As promised, he happily left me at the top of my road without so much as a kiss goodbye. I was relieved and somewhat touched by his gentlemanly behaviour.


He did however make me promise to turn up for our next date.

My Children - My World

My children hold the most important position in my life. My heart would not beat without them for they are so instrumental in holding it together and filling it with love.

To see them happy is of paramount importance to me and I have strived to do so since the day they were conceived. I had separated from their father in 1992 and the following five or six years had been a roller-coaster of emotions for all of us. Joanna, the eldest was a headstrong teenager who had been persecuted by bullies before we had moved away from our previous family home. This had made her very challenging when it came to disciplining.

There were many shouting matches between us, tantrums that I struggled to defuse and deal with, but I always felt that she respected and trusted me when I made certain demands for her improvement in behaviour within the new family environment. This was made frustratingly more difficult for me as it had become obvious that my two girls, although having only two and a half years between them in age, were never going to be close friends and confidants.

Almost from the day she was born, Jemma seemed to take an instant dislike to her older sister. Joanna would try to boss Jemma about and Jemma would physically attack her.

Despite reassurances from well-meaning friends, sadly, things have not significantly improved and the girls remain as different as chalk and cheese. The arrival of a baby brother four years after Jemmas` birth, did not bond the girls, they fought over him as if he were a favourite toy.

One memory sticks in my mind of when they both demanded he look at both of them at the same time! I despaired. Jemma was to win the baby brother war as they bonded from the start and are still very close emotionally to this day.

Jemma survived her life as the middle child remarkably well. Despite seeing the devastating effect bullies had not only on her elder sister, but also on us all as a family, she grew with an inner confidence to be admired. She would stand for no nonsense and was focused on her ultimate aim to be successful and independent. I once overheard Joanna proclaiming that she was going to marry a millionaire, to hear Jemma respond by stating:

“I`m not going to marry a millionaire, I`m going to be one!”

Jemma is an achiever, I can emotionally support her when she allows me. Joanna wants to be an achiever, but is easily distracted away from her ambitions and will seldom allow me to be instructive or emotionally supportive.

Charley is a combination of the two girls…………..an achiever who fiercly rejects my emotional input. He has been blessed with musical talent which allows him to travel the country as a professional singer.

My Devon

I penned this poem for my eldest granddaughter Devon when she reached her first birthday.  Devon was born with PFFD which is a debilitating disability and means she was born without a femur in her left leg; consequently she wears a prosthetic leg.  Despite this she thrives magnificently and is growing into a beautiful, self-assured young lady. 

When you were born the angels cried, they had to say "Goodbye"

they wished you every happiness and sang a lullaby

they sent you on a journey to join us here on earth

we welcomed you with open hearts, cherished you from birth.

From the moment you were born, twelve months ago today

you have filled our lives with happiness in your own special way,

You have taught us what`s important - put us all to shame;

helped us learn life can be cruel, yet we can smile again.

Devon, you are beautiful - your face beyond compare;

you generate such loving - enough for all to share.

Big blue eyes, a button nose, a star from head to toe,

commanding much attention everywhere you go.

You shine just like a twinkling star up in a darkened sky;

beaming down on everyone as they pass you by.

Radiating happiness, our worries disappear

You are such a special angel, we need not shed a tear.

You make us proud to love you - we love you more each day

We thank the Lord for giving us the best in every way.

One year old! We are truly blessed, each day has been a dream

We will cherish you forever - our very own sunbeam.

Hannah

I wrote this poem when a six year old girl choked to death in the canteen at my son`s school a few years ago.

It was a time of intense grieving not only for the parents but for other pupils and mothers connected to the school.  Tears were shed in the playground for many weeks as we all publicly mourned the loss of little Hannah.  Stunned by the cruelty and poignant realities of life and death, we shared our grief and disbelief at such a significant and devastating loss of a beautiful little girl.

Our school has lost an angel

He called her to his side;

Wanted her beside Him

no matter how we cried.

Took away her smiling face,

her golden curls, her joy

to play with other angels;

a cherub to enjoy.

Many friends she left behind

United in our grief

but blessed to have known this "shining star"

Although her life was brief.

RIP Hannah x