Ready, Set

Just a few days left to ponder over those New Year resolutions, the ones that so many of us give up on by the middle of January. I used to convince every one around me that I would stop biting my nails but I never did. I have made so many over the years that I can't remember them, never mind remembering why I actually made them in the first place. Perhaps one was made because I used to be impatient. Maybe I decided another because commitment proved to be a difficult way of life. As time has progressed, throwing those unsuspecting scenarios in my path, I have learned that resolutions could never have been kept anyway.

Trying times have beckoned me to bite my nails, it's what I have always done when I feel nervous. I find it difficult to stay committed as life dictates otherwise. It is easy to lose patience as parents with special needs children will so fairly agree. Yet I am content in my life, I have done what I feel is important. Now I rest. Watch my beautiful girl as she draws me a picture of the sunshine; observe my wonderful husband while he feeds the sheep. I know what awaits me as I enter the kitchen each morning, two collies with unconditional love in their hearts; and usually a sink full of the farmer's dirty pots.

If I have decided anything new for 2009 it will be to concentrate harder on my book. In these hard times of financial pressure I am aware that publication may prove more difficult than it would otherwise. Yet I know how determined I am to tell my story. To let others read my words and imagine my thoughts. There will be a necessity to find that hidden commitment as there will be a need for patience.

This Christmas has been quiet. One of those perfect ends to a roller coaster year. It makes life worth living, gives a purpose to all the days that could have ended before they began. My family means more to me than anything. To them, I am totally committed and offer the patience of a thousand saints.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!

Let's hope it brings peace and joy to your homes, love to your hearts and light to your lives.

Take care over the festive period. See you next week.

Crystal, Farmer, Amy,

Molly, Sparky, Jessica, Sheep & Hens xx

Christmas Future

It was a festive weekend at my mum's. My sister has decorated the tree, beauty adorned on an artificial spruce. No one dare go near in case a bauble dislodges or a string of beads unavoidably drops from its branch. Cards and ornaments are displayed, all thoughtful and full of spirit. Smiles and laughter now fill a once empty heart, crackers on the dining table by each place set to enjoy an early Christmas roast. No one looked lost amidst expected cheer; every one showed eyes sparkling in the light of a strand of colour.

Yet drowning in a bed of recollections, questioning same old-same old. Thoughts face the future, eyes see the present while our hearts remember the past, the days we once had little to question whilst waiting for cracker to snap and the little paper hat to fall gently to the floor. Now that I have seen my mum's face with Christmas glory surrounding her home, I am hopeful that one day she will remember this Christmas present, with the laughter and excitement she had during Christmases past.

A Message from Sparky

Mummy let me use the computer to say thank you. I'm feeling much better today after being poorly yesterday. Mummy and Daddy have no idea what I get up to when I run off and they don't seem to realise that the more they shout me to come back the more I'll stay away. Just to be awkward. They think I'm so cute and are always saying, "aww, look at that adorable face," but underneath my gorgeousness I'm really a crafty little beggar. Molly just sits there all day like Lady Muck while I have to do all the running but when I pinched her basket yesterday she was seething with temper. I could see her pacing up and down in the kitchen while mummy and daddy were worrying about me. I think mummy was more worried about a possible vet's bill after all the money I cost them last year when I dislocated my hip. Do you remember that? Here's a photo of me, in major milking pose:-




I kept pulling the silly green sling off, it was playing havoc with my street cred and my boyfriend Saracen thought I looked like a total moppet. The tups just kept laughing at me and I got fed up of telling them all to look in a mirror themselves; they'd have got a terrible shock. But on the whole I'm as fit as a fiddle and enjoy nothing more than a good run with my daddy and a quick bite at the quad bike wheels. That really annoys him and at one point he kept throwing plastic bottles at me every time I did it. They made no difference of course because I have a mind of my own and I always use it. I could drive that big green tractor if he left me alone with the keys but Molly always gets there first.


And then of course there's that daft moggy. Another black and white fur ball, parading round the farm like she owns it. Sits on the window sill outside the boot room and meows in my ear hole then gets let in the house by mummy. Tail in the air, she wanders over to her food bowl then has a fight with the scratching post before drifting up the stairs to have her nap.

I fell asleep on the sofa last night with daddy. He was pretending to watch the telly but he was snoring his head off so I figured it was pretty safe to drift off into dreamland myself. Having been starved after eating dung, it was no surprise that I dreamt of biscuits. Huge, big, tasty ones, covered in turkey breast. And I didn't give any to Molly.


Anyway, I suppose I should clear off otherwise I'll be ordered to my basket again. Mummy put a nice clean blanket it in for me but I really prefer my cushion. If they think I'm going to turn into a working collie, they've another thing coming. There's nothing better than a roll in badger poo and being able to smell it on my fur, especially when I'm in the kitchen and mummy is playing with my ears.


Love Sparky xxx

The Dog is getting fat

With the birthday weekend over I now find I am meeting myself coming back as I realise how much I have planned during the next three weeks. Amy has a friend coming for tea, we have invited another friend for a meal, the farmer brings home the pheasants while I gather a sack of festiveness to take to my mum's at the weekend. I am so looking forward to a quiet family Christmas Day followed by another family day on the 26th. We have a close friend joining us on Boxing Day and the house becomes incredibly quiet. For some reason, Amy won't speak out loud to her. She will whisper and play charades but the mute button seems permanently on. It isn't such a bad thing as we go to my mum's again on the 27th to spend a few days with my family in Manchester. That will be hectic, a time when I will be wishing for the mute button to work. Wouldn't it be nice if we could turn our kids volume down, just once in a while.

On our return from Manchester I have one day to prepare the guest room before our friends from Essex turn up, happy to brave the freezing temperatures and the mess. Only to witness another day of presents and excitement when it's Amy's birthday on the 3rd January. It's all go in the Jigsaw household and I love it.

But I wasn't greeted with the usual tail wagging extravaganza this morning from the mad dog Sparky. She lay in her basket, a curled up red and white collie reaching out for sympathy. The farmer thinks she's eaten something outside. "Probably 'ad 'er nose in shit," he said, rather like a farmer would. The problem with Sparky is that she runs off. And doesn't come back. She tears off into the tup field, possibly feasting on badger poo and various other deposits left by the wildlife then saunters back to the house with a full belly and a burning backside. This morning she was sick, "just fluid like stuff," the farmer added, whilst he was eating his toast and watching me make up Amy's packed lunch.

Molly is beginning to look overweight. Cutting down her food and separating her from Sparky at supper time has had to happen. Molly couldn't get anymore laid back than she is now. She's an incredible guard dog and would protect us to the end but she rarely runs anywhere, unless she sees a rabbit or the farmer with her supper.

That One Day

13th December 1969. My birth date. A date that now seems to go by like every other, as I display the cards and wow at the slippers I always buy myself. My sister sent me a text the other day: "what are you doing for your birthday?" My reply: "having a night in with my family". I wanted her to join us too but she can't get away and my mum won't come up because according to her, Northumberland in winter is like going to the North Pole. "Not in the house, mum," I keep saying. But the message that we have central heating not to mention an open fire in the new dining room just doesn't sink in. And getting back to what I'm doing on this last birthday before "life begins" is simple; enjoying fish 'n' chips, mushy peas and a portion of curry sauce from the chippy, washed down with a can of Sprite whilst watching my favourite program of current viewing, "Strictly Come Dancing". And do you know what? I'll have a bloody good time because that's what I enjoy doing the most; being with my loved ones in my beautiful home with my adorable pets and the telly. The farmer might get lucky but hey, it's my birthday, not his.

My dad always took us out for our birthdays. It's today that I really miss him. He could tell a good restaurant before he stepped through the door and so we were always guaranteed a top quality night out. My mum kept on the tradition to an extent but since I moved away it has never been easy to arrange. I don't think she can understand why going out isn't important to me anymore when at one time I would have bitten her hand off. I'm just a home bird. I don't drink and neither does the farmer so it's not like sitting in a pub is something we do. We don't. Ever. Having the odd meal out has been known but the farmer is even more of a stay-at-home bird than I am. Perhaps borderline boring but I love him all the same.

I shall leave you today with a few pictures of the dining room. Another room in the house of which I have fallen in love with. My next project: to enjoy it.

Joseph & A Pain in the Neck

We put the Christmas decorations up over the weekend. Well I did anyway. The farmer conveniently found other jobs to do - think sweeping up the barn was mentioned - and Amy got let off after she managed to decapitate Joseph. A quick break for a superglue fix followed by "why don't you watch a DVD instead?" found me, as usual, creating Santa's Grotto on my own. I'm not complaining though. Putting the decorations up is one of the few jobs I love doing inside the house. It makes me feel all festive and I heard myself humming that very catchy song starting with the words 'It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas'.

It was dark by the time I'd finished the lounge so the photos haven't come out too well. I never have been any good at using a camera and couldn't for the life of me fathom out how to get that wonderful twinkling-tree-lights image but they do look awfully pretty. Amy also has a tree in her bedroom and many lovely ornaments on her shelves together with tinsel in a kind of 'not too tacky' look. I could just feel my dad's presence as he would have smiled that tremendously broad smile he always gave when admiring the Christmas lights. Incidentally, mum and dad used to have a magnificent monkey puzzle tree in their front garden of which dad adorned with white lights. He would take a good couple of hours standing on a ladder, positioning lights in every unwelcome gap. I would give anything to listen to the cursing and tutting that we would have to endure, just one more time.

But I have also been in agony since Sunday. I have a muscle spasm in my back and it seems I could have one in my neck. It's a sharp pain that takes my breath away if I move my head in a certain way. Unfortunately I haven't been able to work out which way not to move my head because the pain seems to come whichever way I go. I was hoping it would have gone by now but it hasn't. I can't get comfortable in bed, or while sitting and standing. It's what you might call a right pain in the neck. A friend has recommended a good Osteopath so it looks like I'm going to have to bite the bullet and have some treatment. I haven't been able to read so many blogs these last few days simply due to this but I will catch up, slowly but surely.

Grandma's Cottage Pie

One of my culinary specialities is cottage pie. I use mince steak, potatoes, carrots and onions. Adding a little seasoning which consists only of two Oxo cubes and a sprinkling of salt. The three of us love it and Sunday's was no exception. I don't cook like the traditional farmer's wife; I have no interest in culinary undertakings. But I do ensure my family are well fed, making sure we all have at least one hot meal a day. Lunch usually consists of salads and sandwiches but I often pick. Sunday's cottage pie was delicious. Having made it many times it has become an easy meal for me to prepare and cook whilst being a pleasure to watch Amy and the farmer devour every last bit on their plates. I usually have the kitchen to myself when I'm cooking. Can't stand hovering humans, thinking they can help. Too many cooks etc. Then again, I can't stand bone idle humans either, sitting around while I'm doing all the hard work.

It was quiet in the kitchen. No television noise or a child's voice. No tractor nearby or trains racing along the track. I was completely alone. Until the tapping started. Until my instinct told me another soul had decided to descend on me, perhaps offer assistance as I cried at the onion. I turned round, slowly, so as not to seem afraid. I had two pans on the hob, waiting for vegetables. But a familiar noise emitted from them; as though someone repeatedly tapped the tips of their fingers against the lids. It was a comforting feeling. My Grandma was the first soul that alerted me to her presence back in 1993. One afternoon, I had baked some cakes in my oven, now it would have been seen as an old-fashioned appliance. Grandma sent me a message through a medium saying she had watched me that afternoon and my cakes should have turned out better than hers ever did. But of course they hadn't.

Something was telling me that it was Grandma who now stood in my modern kitchen on Sunday afternoon, tapping gently on my pans. But I think what gave the game away was when I went upstairs after supper, satisfied from a good meal, to check my forthcoming weekly appointments on the calendar. Monday, 8th December. "Grandma's Birthday, 96".

Pictures and Bad Weather

The decorator has finally finished. Walls painted, woodwork glossed and fireplace revamped. We are very pleased with his work and waved him on his way yesterday. The photo's show a clutter but I'm looking forward to getting my new pictures on those red walls. The carpet is being fitted next Friday so have to wait another week before we can put the sideboard back against the wall and position other furniture too. We have a new dining table and chairs arriving on the 19th, just in time for Christmas. It's some transformation I can tell you. For those who saw it before you will think it's a different room.

Amy is off school today due to atrocious weather conditions. She's been playing hide and seek with the farmer all morning while she waits for me to take her out in the snow. It's probably too wet for a snowman build but she might get away with trying out her new sled down the hill. I don't like the snow. Never have. It's cold, wet and dangerous and I would rather it stayed away. When I was about 13 I got bullied by a horrid older girl at my school. The snow always reminds me of the time she walloped me with a huge snow ball and it cut into my cheek. It's funny how an experience in one's younger days can have an effect for years to come, if not for the rest of your life.

Freddie Mercury

A surprisingly secret and private person, yet incredibly flamboyant on the surface, one of my favourite singers of all time is the iconic Freddie Mercury. His group, Queen, made, in my opinion, some of the most unforgettable songs in the history of rock, many of which became all-time greats. There are many of Queen's and Mercury's (as a solo artist) songs which I adore but one or two stand out as I find it almost impossible not to read between the lines of the lyrics. Mercury was an amazing performer. He entertained, capturing an audience until they were truly in his grasp. My only regret is that I was never fortunate enough to see him in concert. Making do with the CD's I have, listening to the incredible instrumentals and the outstanding voice of this wonderful man.

Since Freddie Mercury's passing in November 1991, Queen have continued to perform and entertain their lifelong fans. Remaining band members, Brian May, Roger Taylor and John Deacon have paid tribute several times over to their lead singer, staging concerts with the help of other well known artists such as George Michael, Elton John and David Bowie, to name only a small few. One of my favourite songs performed by Queen was called "Too much Love will kill you"; a hauntingly beautiful song, emotional lyrics (below) and a real heart breaking message, one in which I wonder was part of Mercury's Chronicles. To me, he was a fascinating person. He was indeed capable of 'too much love' and his life style may have proved that he carried out this act of affection within the last decade of his life. Was he indeed the Great Pretender? Did he really need to love somebody? With all his millions of fans around the world he would have had no trouble in finding the adoration he so craved. Such a shame to have lost this man who would have been 62 should he have lived.

I'm just the pieces of the man I used to be

Too many bitter tears are raining down on me

I'm far away from home

And I've been facing this alone

For much too long

I feel like no-one ever told the truth to me

About growing up and what a struggle it would be

In my tangled state of mind

I've been looking back to find

Where I went wrong

Too much love will kill you

If you can't make up your mind

Torn between the lover

And the love you leave behind

You're headed for disaster'cos you never read the signs

Too much love will kill you

Every time

I'm just the shadow of the man I used to be

And it seems like there's no way out of this for me

I used to bring you sunshine

Now all I ever do is bring you down

How would it be if you were standing in my shoes

Can't you see that it's impossible to choose

No there's no making sense of it

Every way I go I'm bound to lose

Too much love will kill you

Just as sure as none at all

It'll drain the power that's in you

Make you plead and scream and crawl

And the pain will make you crazy

You're the victim of your crime

Too much love will kill you

Every time

Too much love will kill you

It'll make your life a lie

Yes, too much love will kill you

And you won't understand why

You'd give your life, you'd sell your soul

But here it comes again

Too much love will kill you

In the end...In the end.

Gift of Riches

Having received a lovely gift from a fellow member of the Purple Coo site, it made me realise how much friends actually mean to me. All my life I have been a loner; never interested in making new friends, mixing with others or taking part in group activities. I have continuously shied away from companionship, preferring my own company to that of a fresh face. Of course Amy has had a huge bearing on my life in so far that she has now become a part of my space. The quiet life I led before is now filled with a child's voice making me accept that being on my own is great; being with someone I love is even better. Many of us enjoy the freedom of our own company however, following a path in which only we are able to discover the end.

But since living up here, friends have entered my life and shown me the joy of the companionship I would once have avoided. Some friends have now gone, moved towards a different direction to the one I wish to take while some have stayed with me, and I with them. On Sunday afternoon I received a phone call from a very good friend whom I have not spoken to since June of this year. I have thought about her often but through circumstances concerning that path of life I did not ring her and we seemingly lost touch. I was thrilled to hear her voice and to know that she and her family have made a new start by moving house and changing their careers. I only felt guilty for not making the effort to phone first. But that did not matter to her.

After our conversation had ended and we had made arrangements to meet up next week, I smiled so broadly I was in danger of creating wrinkles. Companionship is important to me now. My outlook on life has changed somewhat giving me a choice in which, one day not too long ago, I would have ignored. The riches in life do not materialise from one's purse, but from their heart. After receiving Ivy's gift in the post yesterday, all the way from Germany, it dawned on me that I am very well-off indeed.