Seasonal Changes

I felt a change was needed, to many aspects of my life, and so I have started off with a new blog template. Hope you like it... If anyone knows how I can put a nice design either side in the blank spaces, please let me know. I have no idea how to do it, or even if I can. But it would look nice, don't you think? Maybe a leafy design, something autumnal perhaps. Oh listen to me, can't you tell I haven't been out much recently. The Farmer is chauffeuring me about, in between tractor work and doing the school run, whilst I feel totally inadequate, lounging around the house wondering what to do next. It's a big house, most of it a tip, and very dusty, so I'm never stuck for cleaning jobs but a girl can only do so much with a feather duster.

The stupid thing is I've lost my confidence. I can't even take the dogs for a walk anymore. Frightened I'll keel over and never wake up. So I have four collies, chomping at the bit, wondering why I only stand on the garden with them. Bonnie pinched my grapefruit the other day, my fault for holding it within reach I guess. And they're still not toilet trained. I get quite cross now if I go into them and find a mess. Only I don't know which one made the mess, so I end up shouting at both of them and then remember that there's no point shouting at the poor mites after the event, because they won't have a clue what I'm going on about. And it won't be helping my blood pressure either.

In light of what happened to me last week, I have considerably limited my time on the computer and do hope you will forgive me for being a slow reader of your blogs. It will get better. "I'll be back." And in the meantime, thank you for your loyalty to my blog, it's appreciated more than you know. I'll leave you with a picture I took recently of our faithful pups and their fascination for the cat.


p.s. I should tell you, especially my newer readers, that I am an epileptic and the kind of black out I had isn't unheard of, but still a shock nonetheless. There is some information on my side bar if you want to learn more about the condition. And if anyone wants to discuss it, I am always reachable via email. Thanks, CJ xx

When The Sky Went Black

It was a beautiful morning; sunny, a slight breeze and the distant roar of tractor engines in surrounding fields, keen to plough and sow, seagulls diving behind to catch the early worm. I gathered four collies, two on a lead, two without, and made my way to the field in which the Farmer reaped his rewards. I made it through the gate. I walked towards the opposite corner, watching as he waved to me.

The next thing I remember was lying on the ground. Dogs over me. Then I remember opening my eyes again. Looking around, wondering where the car was. I tried to get up but fell back down to the earth beneath me.

The next thing I remember was two puppies licking my face, my hand gripping something which I thought were car keys. The Farmer came over to me, kneeling by my side. I tried to act as though I was fine, but I couldn't get up.

The next thing I remember was the Farmer driving into the field in the Land Rover, and I managed to stand up. I was dizzy, unsure of my surroundings, unable to get my bearings. But I was conscious. I knew what had happened. And I knew I had to get home. I managed to get into the car, feeling much better by now. We got back to the house and I saw the other car. The morning came back to me; I had already taken Amy to school, arrived home and parked the car next to the house, then taken the dogs for their morning walk. The items in my hands were leads, not car keys.

I had a blackout, a seizure. It happened last Thursday. I had no idea it was going to happen, but I have been thinking about it ever since, trying to make sense of why it happened. Lack of food, hadn't taken medication, no sunglasses, walking on extremely uneven ground. I am the biggest idiot alive. I've learnt my lesson. Now I may not be able to drive for twelve months and will have to see my doctor umpteen times. It makes one realise how precious life is. Because I'm still here to tell you about it.

Home Time

I have to question what actually happens at school, when each day I ask Amy what she did, her reply is a simple, "don't know", occasionally we go one better when she answers, "nothing". So that's that then. For the six and a half hours that I let my eyes go square, wash, clean, shop, feed and sometimes, drink tea, not to mention tidy up, sweep up and wipe-pup, my daughter does.... nothing. "What did you have for lunch?" I ask, having given up on the day's activities. "Can't remember," she replies as she gobbles up a chocolate bar and swigs down a strawberry Fruitshoot. Hopeless. Which is why Amy keeps a diary, her 'home-school diary' to be precise; the only window through which I can clearly see "nothing" is actually "something". She writes in it every day. Announces what she had for lunch, anything unusual that took place, and if she has to do some homework which, by kind arrangement of teachers, only consists of reading with the occasional light weight task. Amy cannot cope with homework. She often struggles to concentrate in the structured environment of a classroom and unless her support worker moved in (which I personally would welcome!!) it was suggested not to bombard her with any more education once the bell rings at home time. A suggestion I welcomed.

But something that Amy does tell me about are the friends she has made in the short space of time whilst in her new school. It takes us more than five minutes to get in to the car, just a few strides away from the school gate, due to the fact that several voices echo "bye Amy, see you tomorrow," whilst Amy shouts her farewells in return. It resembles somewhat of a "Waltons" scene. Once in the car, the guzzling starts on her part and the questions start on mine. I guess I'm just making conversation because I know her answers before the words leave my mouth. But it's so nice to see her, even when she does keep the chocolate to herself.

The Farmer; The Optimist

During the last few weeks it is no secret that we have realised our farming business is not recession-proof. It was a shock to the system to learn of the depressive figures on the accounts, not to mention the lack of funds being paid into the bank. But we got through those meetings of doom and gloom, and feel, even though things are financially hard, that a light will shine albeit not this year. Apart from my lovely mum and my sister who have always been there for me offering either financial or emotional support, the one person who has lifted me from the low state I found myself in, is my husband, the Farmer. He has lived on this farm all his life, that's almost sixty years. He has been through many difficult years where the business was close to collapse only to pull himself and his family out of it. He has known hard times, much harder than I have, yet he has carried on with a spring in his step and a smile on his face, a powerful optimism embracing his thoughts. And so I felt fortunate to look around me and realise that with his spirit, and strong partnership, the business will survive. Even if we do have to cut back considerably.

The Farmer was always the one who stayed at home whilst his parents went abroad, he was the one who didn't get paid when bills came in, he was the one who sat in his tractor and had a heart attack not long after his mum passed. He never has a bad word to say about anybody; he won't be part of a conversation if it involves disrespect to an absentee; he lies on the cold floor in front of the Aga, four dogs snuggling into him, together with dust, dog hair and goodness knows what else. His life is this farm. Amy and I are part of that and I feel like the luckiest woman alive knowing he is my husband. He's lucky too of course, he would live on beans on toast and boiled eggs if I wasn't here. But even with the worry of a crumbling business, debating what crops to grow because, as it's proved this year, the costs of growing are higher than those of sale, the Farmer still stopped his tractor mid-field to say a quick hello to the dogs and me whilst out walking. His face lit up when he saw us, tears fighting back his emotion. He told me things will get better, and I believe him.

Alien Planet

If there's one thing I hate to hear it's parents swearing at their kids. "Don't arse around on the f***ing road," one shouted to a beautiful little girl recently, within feet from where I stood with Amy. The child must have been younger than 9, but really that shouldn't matter. What kind of example is that giving to a young child. The parent was rather busy on a mobile phone, looked like she was sending a text, whilst the child danced to the other side. I'm a stickler when it comes to safety on the roads, simply because Amy has no road sense. She would, if I let her, just wander into the road, despite the fact a lorry could be coming towards her. I suspect this child was rather more streetwise, but it surely wouldn't have hurt the mother to hold her hand, instead of sending a text which probably could have waited a few more minutes.

I remember years ago, when Amy was a baby, being in a town center where I lived back then, and witnessing an argument between two adults, parents I think, in front of their young son. The mother turned round to the child and said, "you started this, you little bastard," before clipping him round the ear, very hard. A few passers-by went to the child's aid, pulling him away from the couple before he succumbed to any more violence, only to receive the usual effing and blinding for their supposed interfering. I was pushing Amy in her pram quite close by, desperate to leave the scene. But to this day, I will never forget what that mother said next because every time I see or hear of any child being abused I remember her words, "f**k off, we don't want ya, nobody wants ya." That child will be about seventeen, maybe eighteen by now if my estimations are correct. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if he hasn't been in trouble, even been locked up. And through no fault of his own, don't you think? With parents like that, what hope is there for our future generation.

How Old?

My friend, Ali, and I, have grown up together. We met aged 6 and got friendly through Brownies. I remember those days quite clearly and also remember the old Morris Minor in which Ali's mum drove us to and from meetings. It was such fun. Brownies was pretty good too. But since those early days of our childhood, Ali and I have stayed in touch, albeit drifting apart somewhat through growing up and making new friends. Her birthday is mid October, whereas mine is mid December; Ali used to be ever so proud about being two months older than me (and perhaps a little wiser). We both turn 40 this year, not old I know, but the prospect of no longer being in our 30's seems rather strange. However, recently a couple of texts bouncing from me to her jokingly remarked on our forthcoming milestones, me saying I'd forgotten how old we would be and she saying "25, isn't it?"

But perhaps on a more serious note, it really doesn't feel like 15 years since we clinked glassed together and wished each other a Happy 25th, commenting on us being quarter of a century old! Those years have flown by, and so much has happened. People have been and gone, made their mark upon our individual lives whilst we have stayed put, living 200 miles apart, but still close friends. There are so many things which remind me of Ali, not least a bar of soap (sorry, it's a private joke), but having been friends for such a long time we know that our memories of each other can only grow. We used to sit at McDonald's drive-thru in our cars, wondering if we could manage another quarter pounder, before heading onto the cinema, a 12-screen complex which, back then, seemed like heaven. I always remember a holiday we went on with Ali's parents and grandmother to Gran Canaria, where we spent most of our spending money on cheap fags and scruffy looking clothes. The secrets we shared in those days would make our eyes water should we share the same ones today. I don't feel old, I don't even feel like a summer chicken, 40 is the new 30 so it is rumoured. So I guess when Ali and I are clinking glasses and wishing each other a Happy half century, we'll really be celebrating our 40th. I knew the TARDIS would come in handy one day.

Office Memories

As I look around my office it brings back so many memories.

Photographs taken of family time,
certificates achieved by child of mine;

pictures drawn from previous years,
calendars, notes, laughter and tears;

Doctor Who, Bratz girlz, border collies, Highland coo,
Jessica, Sparky and Molly too;

a ticking clock upon the wall,
pewter stand with crystal ball;

book shelves, files, clutter amidst,
teddy bear waiting, never been kissed;

violin stands from childhood days,
guitar waits but no one plays;

camera, camcorder, iPod, phone,
old computer stands alone;

ancient desk once used by he,
who now inspires his daughter, me.

I have never been a hoarder, but since living at the farm I guess I have become a little towards just that. Perhaps it has been the Farmer's influence as he hoards just about everything (make do and mend generation!) but I have never seen the point in keeping things, anything, for the sake of saying "it might come in one day". But that rule has become relaxed during recent years, particularly with Amy's drawings and artistic impressions. I have reams of her artwork, a lot of it scattered amongst my office walls, and every day I make a point of looking at it, remembering how much progress she has made throughout her short life. But the time has come where I shall be taking down old pictures to make way for the new ones; the next generation of artwork as she becomes accustomed with the next phase in her life. Of course I will never get rid of anything I take down from the walls, it will all be placed into a box and filed amongst "Memories". So important, so real, and so many.

Pup Post

BONNIE

MEGGIE

As you can see, the puppies are getting quite big. Both are doing really well and have settled into farm life beautifully. It's such a pleasure to have four dogs now, even though it's a little difficult to know where my attention is needed most. I make sure each and every one gets a fair share of cuddles, especially Molly as she often seems a little lost when she watches Sparky playing on the lawn with her babies. On the other hand, there are times when Molly has definitely had enough of her little nieces and gives them the warning growl. They know when to back off. We were told by many people that having puppies will probably calm Sparky down. It hasn't. The Farmer likes to think it has but we both know she's still completely mad. The puppies have two large meals a day and a small helping of puppy meal at lunch time, but I still give them fresh fish for supper occasionally and they sometimes have scrambled eggs for breakfast. Some of you may remember the film, The Thorn Birds. That's where I got Meggie's name from; My Meggie, I remember Richard Chamberlain saying it to Rachel Ward in one of their forbidden love scenes. It is one of my favourite films of all time. Bonnie's name was chosen by Amy when we were in Scotland last May, taken from the saying, "Bonny Scotland". The spelling was Amy's idea!

Any Ideas???

All of this year I have been thinking about something. Nothing that caused any discomfort to my brain, fortunately, but something significant to mark the special occasion of my husband's 60th birthday at the end of October. As he doesn't read my blog, he won't know that I've told you of this forthcoming event so I thought I would also take this opportunity to let you in on a little secret. I haven't arranged anything, not even the surprise get together I was thinking about. Neither of us are party creatures, our choice is to sit in front of the television with a good book, so a party was ruled out right from the start. I have however, booked us a long weekend in Scotland, including Amy, where we will be staying in one of our favourite hotels. It's cost an arm and a leg, of which we haven't got spare at the moment, but we couldn't let the year pass without having something to remember it by, even if we do need crutches to get there. You see, it's also my 40th this year. Perhaps a double celebration then. Which is why we decided to push the boat out.

I was also thinking that I could buy the Farmer something to look at on his birthday, something of sentimental value, say perhaps a commissioned painting relevant to his interests. Do you have any ideas? What did you do either for yourself or your other half, or what did your other half do for you on that special birthday? Not necessarily your 60th, I imagine a lot of my readers will need a crystal ball to find the answer to that, but to mark a milestone, one you felt was worth celebrating.

A Good Day on the Calendar

I'd say Wednesday turned out pretty well. Having dropped Amy off at school, a little apprehensive and somewhat overwhelmed by the sea of new faces in the playground, she was soon ready to say goodbye to me and begin the next phase in her life. My instructions about not forgetting her school jumper should she take it off seemed to fall on deaf ears, perhaps too many excited thoughts engulfing the mind. A couple of lovely friends whom she knows from her first school, came over to say hello which immediately put Amy at ease. Holiday banter ensued before a few suggestions to be a part of growing up beckoned me to drive away. The wonderful support worker found Amy too and I watched as they walked together on new ground. As I drove out of the gates I found myself asking for guidance for my little-big girl, to help her on her way and ensure she made friends as easily as she did at first school. I won't deny I shed a tear or two, just a glazing over the eyes as I brushed them quickly away, so as not to spoil my journey home. It was still before 9am when I walked through the back door, and having promised myself to start work on the book at 9.30, I was rather pleased that I wouldn't be late. I have made this commitment to me, if Amy is to have a new start, then so shall I, but mine will be of determined willingness to finish my book. And so I managed to type two thousand words today, after finding I was raring to commence my own routine.

I switched the 'book-file' off at 2.30pm, satisfied that I had done enough, covered the scenes I wanted to write. Two puppies needed fresh air, and of course that all important wee. They tend not to do it so much inside anymore, and when they do it is usually on the newspaper conveniently placed by the back door. I almost wanted to take them with me to collect Amy from school, their joy at seeing me was quite lovely. But the last time they journeyed in the car proved to be a rather smelly affair. And one of those times when a farmer's wife got her hands very dirty. I arrived at school ten minutes early. I cannot tell you how elated I felt when I saw Amy coming towards me, shouting "it's okay, mum, my jumper's in my bag". The support worker walked her safely to me, both smiling, both appearing cheerful. "I had sausage, mash and broccoli for dinner, followed by sorbet," and with an extra large smile, she added, "it was orange flavour." Ooh good, I thought, I won't need to cook. She talked about her new friend on the way home, telling me about how nice she is. And she even talked about her day; a rare occurrence for Amy. She feels terribly grown up, and sure looked it when she came walking towards me. And what really made my day, what really made me smile deep down in the depths of my heart, was, on the short walk back to the car, my grown up beauty gave me her school bag to carry, then held my hand.

A Big Step

Had a conversation with Amy yesterday about the big step she will take on Wednesday; starting her new school. For a while now, I have been confident that this transition was proving to be easier than I originally thought it would be. I was happy at the way Amy loves to talk about her new school, the new friends she hopes to make, the old ones she is looking forward to being with. Not to mention the new activities she will join in with and the very exciting trip to London which will take place in year 6. I have told every one I have spoken to that Amy can't wait; she's ready for this big change in her life and embracing it with a certain degree of maturity, even though she is only 9. But yesterday's conversation made me realise that my optimism may have overwhelmed the fact that really, I have denied the intensity of this transition, telling myself numerous times that there is nothing to it. I spoke to Amy about the fact that we only had a few days left before Wednesday and asked her how excited she felt. She looked at me, her eyes glazed over with horror. "I think I'll feel embarrassed, mum," she said, before looking down at her knees. "Embarrassed?" I asked. "Because there will be lots of people there that I don't know, they might not like me and the way I am."

I had to force the tears not to flow. My very grown up daughter obviously knows that she is somewhat "different" to her peers. We concluded that she actually meant "shy" rather than embarrassed when she continued to tell me how anxious she now felt. I guess I wished she'd told me sooner but that would have given me too much time to think and worry about something that may not be an issue. Autistic people find transition very hard. Harder than any of us can possibly imagine. Autistic people thrive on routine and structure. Some more than others. But all thrive on continuity and familiarity. Autistic people live in a parallel world, they see what we see but seldom interpret the way we do. It isn't to be sympathised because they, like us, are human beings, and enjoy their lives just like every one else, perhaps in a slightly different way.

I told Amy she must not worry about her new school and making new friends. I explained that there would always be someone there if she needed to talk to an adult and that once she'd settled in she would find her new school a wonderful place to be. I was convincing myself as I spoke. Whether Amy truly understood me I don't know. She sat and appeared to listen before telling me about a doll that she'd seen on tv and wants to put on her Christmas list. I don't think Amy has really thought about the step she is about to take. I don't think Amy can. It will happen on Wednesday and I will worry all day that she is okay. Autism has taught me so much these past 6 years, but it will never teach me the workings of the mind. However much I try to understand my daughter, I feel I need to understand myself too.

Faulty Chunks

My husband, bless him, is always right. The blame never lies with him, he always has an excuse and quite likes to have the last word, however far away from you he might be when that word is spoken. As the women of the world know, we are always right but we feel it only fair to allow our husbands to think they are, mainly for a bit of peace and quiet. And as we women also know, the men of the world will now be saying, "it's the other way round".

You see, on Friday afternoon Amy pointed me towards a dollop of poo on the bathroom floor. She came downstairs to tell us about her find of which neither the Farmer nor I believed could have been true. Her phase of playing tricks is becoming a little like The Boy Who Cried Wolf right now. So after doing the dishes whilst Farmer lay on the floor in front of the Aga with four collies, I went upstairs to the bathroom, just to make sure. It wasn't a trick. It was actually quite a few chunky dollops, which had they got a name tag, could have belonged to either of the puppies, Bonnie and Meg. Being the dutiful housewife that I am, I cleaned it up, carefully examining it as I wrapped it in toilet paper and disposed of it down the toilet. The smell was undoubtedly dog. Having four dogs in the house I would say I am somewhat experienced at recognising the aroma of dog poo.

After seeing the Farmer a little later on, the conversation went like this:

Me: It was dog poo in the bathroom.

Farmer: Are you sure? No dogs have been out of the kitchen.

Me: I know what dog poo looks and smells like.

Farmer: So who left the kitchen door open?

Me: Does it matter? (I knew full well it was me)

Farmer: Well it can't have been me, I haven't been in much this morning.

Me: (I say very quietly) It's never you.

Farmer: When did the puppies manage to get upstairs? I never leave the door open.

Me: (I say a bit louder) It's never you.

Farmer: (At this point he should have realised that shutting up would have been the better option) I thought you were being careful not to let them out of the kitchen.....

Me: (A lot louder, but rather polite) Haven't you got work to do?

Farmer: What did you do with the poo? (My husband spends too much time with animals)

Me: It's down the toilet, why?

Farmer: I could have told you whether it was dog or cat poo.

I didn't say anything else. I mean, I do know the difference. Jessica's poo is a bit stringy compared to the chunky deposits left by Bonnie and Meg. And besides, did he expect me to parade through the house with a dollop of poo in my hand so that we could determine which animal it had come from....

Five minutes later the Farmer came back to me. "It will have been the cat's," he said. I nodded my head as he toddled off a happy farmer. Of course he was right. In his eyes. But he still doesn't know I left the kitchen door open.

If you like posts about poo, you might want to pop over to a great blog http://emilybassin.blogspot.com/2009/09/look-at-size-of-that-sorry.html
Just make sure you're not eating first.

Furry Friends

Thank you for all your suggestions to my dilemma re word verification. After weighing it up, I have decided to leave things as is for now. But I always welcome your advice; which may be needed again soon as I start to build my own website (idea from the lovely Elaine, thanks hon). As most of you know, my technical capabilities are nothing special and I have been struggling lately as to which web host to use, how much I need to pay, what I'll have on the website, and lots of other things. But I'm determined to do it and I have a good friend helping out in the next few days. However, if for any reason he can't help, I'll be turning to you. My faithful friends. So watch this space!

Got rid of a large quantity of lambs this week, all made a decent amount which has of course helped in these dire times. Amy was in the stack yard when the transport lorry arrived to collect said lambs and I called her back to the house. Silly really, as she wouldn't have cared less where they were going. She knows about the market, she understands why we breed sheep and she realises that the lamb chops she eats were once springing about a field, getting up to all kinds of mischief. We spent the afternoon watching Sean the Sheep.

I did a short video for you of the puppies. They're really coming on and doing well whilst walking on the lead. We can only take them a little way past the gate as they haven't had their second injections yet. But it's amazing how quickly they're learning. They will now sit and stay on command, and most of the time they come bounding towards you when you call their name. Anyway, here it is, hope you enjoy:

400

Yes, you guessed it, this is my 400th post. But before I ramble on, I just wanted to ask your thoughts on word verification when commenting. I'm getting really sick of spam comments. I take note of all of my comments, and do try to respond to them, but how does one respond to an advertising site hoping to sell me undesirables? I have been deleting them, permanently, but have noticed many blogs do have the word verification. I want my blog to be open to everyone. People, that is. Any advice and/or suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

**********

There has been a meme kicking around for some time now of which I have been tagged to take part in. Being the very naughty blogger that I am, I keep forgetting, but a question I have found of interest recently has been "why do you blog?". Apart from having nothing else to do, I blog because I enjoy it. It's my hobby. But it's a hobby I spend far too much time doing. When I first created my blog in May 2007, my late father-in-law was living in a home and had literally days to live. I knew, with deepest respect, that my life would change within those days and I would find freedom in a way I had never experienced before. I did. I also made friends from all around the world and realised that the confident streak I had in me was just yearning to be released. That man took away my confidence; he made me weak and vulnerable with his controlling and bullying ways, yet he was never able to take away my love to write. He would laugh at me when I told him I was writing a book, he made fun of me when I sent short stories to magazines, he even fell out with me on numerous occasions when I helped voluntary at Amy's school. He didn't agree that a person should work for nothing, that a woman in particular should leave the home to help someone else, rather than her family.

But when I look back on those six difficult years, a part of me wants to thank that old man. Writing, and later, Blogging, became a tranquil place for my mind to visit. I could write about anything and everything knowing he could never control my thoughts. And as I started blogging, as I started to make friends and learn about other existences around the world, I knew, that one day, I would be capable of writing my own book, of even having it published and read by people who would appreciate my work. A good friend of mine recommended blogging to me, said it was a good way to be known, acknowledged, recognised. She was so right and she knows how much I appreciate her friendship. But during these past two years, I have come to appreciate you all; your friendship and support has kept my blog going. To some, receiving comments isn't important; to me, it is. Because then I know that you have read my words, maybe even liked what I had to write. So much has happened in my life since I started blogging and I try to share most of it with you. I hope one day I will share my book launch with you. That old man used to say I was lazy, he used to shake his head when I left the kitchen to go to my computer, but I wonder if he's smiling now, as he realises that all the bad he brought on his family, has actually made us stronger than we've ever been in our lives. Funny how things turn out isn't it....