A Step Forward

I felt quite pleased with myself on Saturday afternoon; I took the dogs for a walk down the farm road, for the first time in four weeks. The Farmer went out for the day leaving Amy and I to entertain ourselves. Having tired of watching DVD's and pottering about on the computer, Amy insisted that we took the dogs for a walk. She was right of course, four collies bored out of their tree, diving towards the back door every time one of us entered the kitchen. Wrapping ourselves up like Christmas turkeys, we set off, Amy thrilled to bits to be out of the house and me, a little nervous if I'm truthful, but keeping my spirits up with the fact that I felt fine and could be conquering the ridiculous fear I had of being away from the house, on foot. It seems colour is following me right now for throughout our walk we were accompanied by the most intensely beautiful rainbow and a second one by its side albeit very faded. We said a couple of prayers, I'm not particularly religious but it just seemed like the perfect moment. Unfortunately, I didn't take my camera but I can honestly say the brightest rainbow was even more beautiful than the one Amy captured last week on her camera (The Floods, post 23/11).

On Sunday, the Farmer took us all to Berwick, our local town. A trip to Homebase (yawn) and a feast at McDonalds (yum), followed by a trip round Morrisons for me whilst Amy stayed in the car with Farmer and ate her Sweet Chilli Chicken meal followed by a toffee sundae. She had a bright idea of covering her legs with a bag containing two baubles which I had since bought from Homebase. By the time I got back to the car, one of the baubles had been smashed and the other, funnily enough chosen by Amy, was still intact. Accidents do happen, I kept telling her as she was mortified. I was mortified however, at the fact that the large poinsettia I had just bought in the supermarket, got caught up in a blast of wind as I walked back to the car, and most of its branches were broken off. I only found that out when I got it home and the branches fell onto the floor. It still looks glorious on my kitchen window.

All Shapes and Sizes

Amy has started her life skills at school and she's really happy about it. As I have been the one to push for them, I started worrying that I was expecting her to leave a class that she enjoyed, to go and do something that she doesn't. But my fears were short lived when her eyes lit up at the prospect of swimming once a week, cooking at one of the teaching assistant's houses, and helping out at various places within the area, getting to know people and being able to improve on her social skills. It's all worked out for the best I think, only time will tell, but she certainly seems happy enough, and that's definitely the main issue. She has come on leaps and bounds in the last few months, growing up before my eyes. The staff at school are so encouraging, constantly behind her and willing her on to be successful in her decisions.

The downside about this week has been my realisation that I won't get Carer's Allowance. After numerous and lengthy conversations with my accountant, he has confirmed that I really don't have a leg to stand on. I'm infuriated, not with him of course, but with our absolutely, ridiculously unfair system. I have only just missed out, and the money I am supposed to "earn", is literally on paper. I won't go on about it because I expect you're bored of reading about me ranting on about our disgraceful government decisions, but they really are pitiful. Whoever makes these decisions needs sacking, they haven't a clue about the real world and how people struggle from day to day trying to make a living, and trying to support their families. Not to mention trying to care for a disabled person. However, I will consider myself lucky; I have my health, I have a wonderful husband, I live in the only place I would ever wish to live, and most importantly, I have the most incredible daughter in the world. We'll get by. Together.

I thought you might like to add your own captions to these three pictures. Meggie is the one stood at the back door.

Rose Garden

Memories are triggered off by many things that happen in our day to day lives; so often do I reflect on my childhood and of the years which followed when I became a teenager. I have so many happy memories, many of which have been stored at the back of my mind, only to be released when a significant event occurs, prompting distant reminiscence to the forefront of my thoughts. When I was a little girl, a bit younger than Amy is now, our family had a very close friendship with a lovely family who lived nearby. I was particularly close to the daughter, somewhat older than me, but a kind of big sister and someone I looked up to. They had an old-fashioned upright piano which I loved to play, having already practiced tunes on mine then charging over to their house to recite the music and, perhaps, show off my talent which was very much admired by them. At aged 8 it is important to receive encouragement and they gave it in bucket fulls. I remember Bert sitting in his arm chair in the corner of the room, smoking desperately on his pipe, smothering me with smoke whilst Annie baked and fussed in the kitchen, supplying us with cakes and the sweetest smiles.

I found out, the other day, that Bert sadly passed away over the weekend. A very poorly man, and a very old man too, he had lived a full yet gentle life, easing his way into the next journey where he will no doubt listen to me playing The Entertainer and Fur Elise, the first two pieces of music I learnt to play all the way through aged around 8. I even thought I could smell his pipe this morning. But for all the years that I haven't seen him, and it must be around 20 at least, I can remember as clear as if I had been with him yesterday. I can see him so vividly sat in that chair, his smiling eyes boring into mine as he assured me how much he enjoyed my visits. I remember him walking me round his beloved garden, showing me the green house and the stream, throwing the ball for their dog and having a simply wonderful time. I guess he was a substitute granddad to me, my own both having passed away.

My sister has always stayed in touch with them and still sees the family occasionally, even though they now live in the south. She only said to me yesterday how Bert has always felt like a granddad to her which I found particularly touching. But it does make one think how incredibly precious life is, when these memories are brought back and past tense becomes the present.

The Floods

There has been some horrendous weather in the north of England during the past week. Cumbria for instance, has taken the brunt of it, flooding streets, homes and businesses, and destroying ancient bridges, tragically taking the life of a very valued policeman aged only 44. He was re-directing traffic, saving them from devastation, and in return he lost his life when the bridge he stood on collapsed and washed him away. A hero, if ever there was one. Now comes the horror for the poor people who have witnessed their possessions turn into nothing, a dreadful scene opening up before many of whom would have lost everything they held dear. The reports on our local news have been so incredibly emotional, and even the Farmer filled up last night whilst we sat and watched as beautiful towns have turned into rivers and bridges no longer offer a quick way across a short stretch of water. Schools have been closed as have many shops and locals are having to make a fifty mile trip just to buy a bottle of milk. It really is a desperate situation for them and my heartfelt sympathy goes out to the residents of these hard hit areas of Cumbria.

Amy took this photograph yesterday morning when we all just happened to glance out of the window. She ran upstairs for the camera then ran outside, coming back in shortly afterwards with a positive sign perhaps, as we think about our neighbours.

Home Comforts

It doesn't happen often, but on Saturday the Farmer took Amy and I out to the shops. It will become a regular activity from now on due to me not being able to drive, but there's only so much huffing, puffing and head shaking a girl can take in one day. The Farmer really does not like shopping. Bless him, he knows he's got no choice but I think he was more than relieved to arrive home mid afternoon, get back into his scruffs, and disappear outside to his favourite haunts; otherwise known as "the sheds". We stopped off at the garden center and ended up buying an artificial Christmas tree; a gorgeous 7ft fir which will look magnificent once it's decorated, I'm sure. They look a bit...., well...., bare, when they're on display so I had a good rummage last night at all the decorations I possess in order to make sure I have enough. I think I do but I do have some vouchers to use at another garden center so a trip down there at some stage will be imminent. Not to mention to see Father Christmas too.

During the last couple of weeks I have noticed a rise in the atmosphere in the farm house. There have been occasions when my senses have been alerted to movement, sometimes in the corner of my eye and other times, right in front of me. For example, my bedroom curtains moved the other night whilst I sat up in bed watching the television. I couldn't help but notice because the tv is situated next to the window. Things have appeared to touch me on the bed (not the Farmer), and once or twice I have seen movement near to the floor; on a particular occasion this resembled that of an animal; my first thoughts were that it was Jessica, my beloved cat who often sleeps on the bed. But she was outside. It had been only fifteen or twenty minutes since I had let her out. I turned my head quickly to look at the movement only to witness a dark shadow disappear into thin air.

I have felt spiritual existence around me quite often recently, my thoughts to this would be because I have been poorly. There are many family members, or loved ones, who could have visited, not least my beautiful dad, but the one who springs to mind is my very dear Uncle Tom who himself suffered with severe epilepsy for many years. Tom was a driving instructor and because of his seizures he had to give up the job he so loved. He had a lot of influence in my life, especially when I was little; he loved to write and helped his friend write several books about their love of churches and church organs. It was always unclear how he passed but I think I know. His body was found on New Year's day 2002, slumped against a rock in a small stream.

On Sunday morning whilst sat at the kitchen table talking to the Farmer and a friend of ours, someone touched me, it felt like a dig in my side, and it was very distinct. I know not every one agrees, but to have spirit presence around me is so incredibly comforting.

Zimmer Frame for Santa

Amy will be 10 in January. To look at her you would think she was about 13 or 14, and it is proving a little difficult these days to buy appropriately aged clothes that don't make her look older than she is. This year I have wondered about the issue of Santa. Last year she clearly believed in the disappearance of a letter which got magically carried away by Santa's elves as they did their pre-Christmas rounds. She didn't get as many presents from Santa last year but there was a few waiting for her under the tree on Christmas morning. And the glass of orange had been drunk too. So this year I have been wondering what Amy's thoughts are on the subject of Santa Claus and his determination to squeeze down our chimney in order to deliver a few gifts and stuff his face with a mince pie or two.

Every year I have taken her to a beautiful garden centre not far away which has the most amazing display of decorations and an incredible grotto where Santa greets his small guests, whilst electronic reindeer nod their heads by his side. I guess it's become a habit to go because Amy has asked me if we can go again this year. I told her she might be a bit big to see Santa now but that went in one ear and out the other. She's obviously determined. "I don't need to sit on his knee," she said, "I can sit on the bench next to him." I'm sure Santa will be pleased.

I was 10 years old when I stopped believing in Santa. I remember reading a reply to my letter to him, and the writing was my dad's. My dad had very distinct hand writing and there really was no mistaking it. I guess I should thank my brother at this point, for at 3 years older than me and probably the daftest brother on the planet, it is a miracle that he hadn't told me sooner. I don't remember being disappointed for my parents whisked me off to church soon after and the whole episode was forgotten about. With Amy however, things aren't as simple. I wonder when she will stop believing in Santa; as a child who takes everything literally, we might still be going to the garden centre in another 10 years to see those nodding reindeer and the tired looking Santa, not to mention waiting for the elves to collect a wish list from our chimney.

Insurance Trouble

Because of not being able to drive I have decided to cancel my pre-booked holidays for next year. One of which was to Center Parcs, the same apartment we stayed in last time only this time it would have been for a full week. The driving excuse wasn't the only reason for cancellation; my lack of confidence and fear of having another seizure was another, but that, I know, will hopefully have been overcome by August 2010. However, cancelling the holiday wasn't as simple as it seemed. The special offer of free insurance was, I thought, a good one and one not to be sniffed at. Those of you who read my post about Center Parcs will remember how much Amy and I enjoyed ourselves back in August and I was totally excited to be going again, albeit a long way off. But, I made the decision, phoned the hotline and cancelled the booking, very swiftly, very efficiently. "Your deposit will be refunded to your credit card," I was told. What I wasn't told was the ridiculous rigmarole I would have to go through in order to get that £200 deposit refunded.

I was sent an email of confirmation to the cancellation. Then another lady from Center Parcs rang me to tell me I had to phone the insurance company for a form in order to claim back the deposit. Bearing in mind, the staff at Center Parcs are very polite and sympathetic. I rang the insurance company who have now sent me a form more or less asking for my medical history. They also want my doctor to fill out a form and sign it. I'm just a bit fed up now. Is this typical of insurance companies; to take ya money (okay, mine was a freebie but it's the principal) and when you need to make a claim it's like getting blood out of a stone. I don't have much experience with insurance companies, having only ever made a couple of claims in my lifetime, but for just £200, wouldn't you have thought it a bit more straight forward than having to trouble the GP when he's probably got much better things to do, like diagnosing someones illness for example? And the daft thing is, it will cost me to get the GP to fill out this form, which I can understand from their point of view, but it's like being penalised again, just for being epileptic. And there's no assurance that I'll actually get the deposit back anyway. My thoughts right now are that they will look at the form and say, "this person has suffered with epilepsy for ten years, she could have seizures any time". Am I being a little paranoid here do you think, or am I on the right track?!!

Boot Room Shenanigans

I managed to get out of the house today; just to the local town of Berwick to pop in and out of the bank, but it's a start. The Farmer of course played chauffeur, and I was glad of his company. But getting home was such a sigh of relief, as though I'd been away for days to a far away strange land. I keep looking round the house thinking how untidy it is becoming, until I retreat back to the bedroom in search of the remote control. I thought about Christmas today; my most favourite time of the year and one which has always held such emotion in my heart, not least because of the memories I will always harbour of my childhood. I guess I feel age has slowly crept upon me recently; the feeling of being a young and active twenty year old disappeared and I became a woman of 40, realising that looking after myself needs to be taken more seriously.

The puppies have adjusted well to their new sleeping quarters in the shed. It's very warm and cosy for them and they can poo till their heart's content. They do like coming back into the house however, during the day when we're around. Upon our return from Berwick, neither puppy had messed in the boot room where we left them, and can you believe, as soon as we opened the kitchen door, Bonnie shot in and made a bee-line for Sparky's bed. They are definitely learning the laws about indoor control for she knew immediately after the Farmer shouted at her that it was wrong. You can just tell with those sad puppy dog eyes that bore into you and I have to walk away for fear of caving in and giving them both a big cuddle.

No Money for the Carer

Well I think I'm on the mend. I don't feel as tired and lethargic as I did, and I'm getting fed up of sitting in bed. Mind you, I have enjoyed the rest and have been spoilt rotten which has been lovely. Do you remember me telling you about the threat of my carer's allowance being taken away? Well the robbers have done just that. I am a full time carer to Amy and am unable to claim carer's allowance because they reckon I earn too much. What a bloody joke. This government is a bunch of knob-heads and it's about time they got some sense running the country. I obviously won't go into my personal financial situation on here but take it from me; I don't earn enough and the £95 a week they say I earn from my business accounts is absolute rubbish. So now I shall appeal. But first, I'll get better because I want my wits about me. I had to try and forget about it when I got the letter the other day, for I'm petrified of having another seizure. My confidence levels have plummeted; I haven't been out of the house for eight days now even though I look longingly through the windows at the glistening fields.

That's it for today; having no life means nothing to report! Unless you want to hear about my latest read, Life & Death on the Streets by Stuart Gray, paramedic. After my experience with two (rather hunky) paramedics a week ago last Thursday (in my bedroom), I've come to realise how amazing they really are. It's a fantastic read by the way.

Here:

I can't stay, the last five days have been somewhat of a blur and I thought I'd just keep you posted so you didn't think I'd disappeared altogether. I was rushed into hospital last Thursday night after having two epileptic seizures. It wasn't a nice time and there was a moment that I thought I wouldn't see my family again. But I'm home again and still alive, making progress and coming to terms with the fact that I can no longer drive and my lifestyle will become a little less pressurised from now on. I have some good friends who are helping with Amy and my husband has been my savour. But I will be back soon to continue blogging as normal; I know I have a lot of reading to do to keep up with you all but please bear with me. A little at a time is all I can do right now and as the doctor has increased my medication it looks like I'll be drugged up to the eyeballs for a while too! Bye for now xx

No More Mess

My poor puppies; they've been thrown out. Not thrown exactly, that would warrant a visit from the RSPCA, but they have been re homed. Don't worry, it's only to the shed, but that's bad enough. The house seems strange without them diving through the kitchen, grabbing a quick bite of slipper and leaping to the worktops to see if any food lurks about. That bit I didn't mind. Even the Farmer gave a little chuckle at Bonnie's persistence. The last straw came yesterday when Farmer cleaned up poo for the third time that day. And I hadn't told him about the two times I had cleaned it up in between. When Amy ran upstairs at 8pm shouting, "puppy poo, puppy poo", I knew that was it. The Farmer put his foot down and I, reluctantly, agreed. I can hear you saying I told you so, from here, and I wish I had followed my head right from the start, instead of going with my heart and allowing them to live inside. Molly was a model puppy, Sparky was, as my older readers know, a damn nuisance, but both were soon toilet trained and have been good dogs ever since, albeit Sparky still being a pain in the arse from time to time. The problem has been that both the Farmer and I have been poorly recently, had really bad colds which could have bordered on flu, man-flu in the Farmer's case, but nevertheless, neither of us have felt like wiping up puppy pee and puppy poo.

It's a comfortable kennel that they have, plenty big enough to stretch their legs, and totally sheltered from the elements. But my intention now is to get a purpose built shed-like building, erected near to the house, which will house both puppies and preferably Sparky. Not sure how the Farmer will react to my idea of it housing Sparky too but I'll do my best. They're too rough for Molly so she can stay in the house which I am sure she will be thrilled about. At only four and a half months, they're young enough to adapt to new surroundings and they can poo to their heart's content. I'd much rather muck out a dog kennel every day than be standing in dog shit every time I want to get through the back door.

Meggie

Bonnie