From Trivial Pursuits to Push Bikes

Those who know me have probably by now realised that I am a sentimental girl who revels in nostalgia. There are so many festive seasons that I remember with great affection, 10 of which involve Amy of course, but many which contain incredible memories of my childhood and those magical days of my dad's hand, locked with mine. I miss him so much all year round, yet during the Christmas week it feels as though not only his spirit is here, but his physical self sits amongst us whilst we celebrate as he used to do, with hope and peace in his heart.

Though my parents had little money when I was a young girl, I have since recognised the pleasure they would no doubt have received to watch their three children on Christmas morning. My dad worked incredibly hard, seven days a week, and year after year he gave his family a Christmas to remember. Naturally, there are some more than others that I recollect with ease; like the year we got push bikes, waiting in the front room of our semi, no questions asked of how Santa could possibly have got them down the chimney. Black bin liners would be filled with presents for each of us, the joy our parents would have seen on our faces etched for eternity.

As always, Amy received an overwhelming amount of gifts this year, some of which I feel she may never play with, others she hasn't put down. When she opened one of 'Santa's' carefully wrapped presents containing the game, Trivial Pursuits for Kids, it made me smile. Another Christmas past came into my head, this one during the late 80's when I was in my late teens. Trivial Pursuits was all the rage back then and I painfully recollect losing on many occasions. The 'Kids' version could definitely give me back my street cred, a thumbs up for 'Santa'. And as we know, Christmas is a time for giving; maybe he is giving me a break.

Socks and gloves, chocolates and biscuits were the main items addressed to the Farmer and me; all of which were most gratefully received. But I still find myself sat on the floor by the fireplace, examining the gifts so kindly given to Amy by friends and family. She received a selection box amongst them, something that had such meaning to my childhood for they were the true Trivial Pursuits of Christmas; we used to receive so many selection boxes between my brother, my sister and myself that my mum opened them all up, put each bar of chocolate into a bag and insisted that we share. And so tradition continues, as once more I feel my dad's hand in mine, I see his smiling face, and I hear his voice as he whispers, "Merry Christmas, my love, and that Mars Bar's for me".

Compliments of the Season

From all at Jigsaw Farm, we wish you a very Happy Christmas and peaceful celebrations.

Confirmation NOT Required

In this day and age it is always wise never to give your personal details over the phone, or in some cases, on the Internet, although this is difficult when shopping online as I do. Often. I do wonder if some of the employees who get paid to "cold call" are being taken to one side and told, "ask them how they are first, get them onside, judge their age, then go in for the kill". How many of us have been asked to confirm our name and address, and in some cases, our membership number over the phone? I have, on several occasions, by several different organisations; and each time, depending on what mood I am in (I'm a rather moody mare), I either hang up or let rip. One such occasion happened recently and he was totally stunned when I asked him over and over, "why do you need my details when you have them there? You rang me".

Over time I have been asked if I want to increase my monthly direct debit to a certain charity; told my Internet subscription has expired and I need to re-instate it by giving my bank details over the phone; informed my Sky box warranty has expired and again, need to give bank details over the phone "for immediate cover". I could mention more but I don't wish to bore you. I am constantly being bombarded with "we have this offer" and "why not take advantage right now", and every single caller seems to know me 'personally'. One knows immediately when the caller asks, "how are you today?" and doesn't wait for the answer, that you will be spoken to as though you are as thick as a whale sandwich, when it is not unusual for you to clam up and guard your pocket.

I have even stopped the calls by ringing a particular number but they still get through. But that's not the point here; some of us are more gullible than others and will not understand the dangers of giving out personal information over the phone. My mum for one. I have told her time and time again not to do it. She doesn't now, but she used to. She even left a note on the front door not so long ago, telling the delivery man that she'd gone to the supermarket and he should take the parcel next door. I kid you not. So remember, if they phone you, they already have your details and I for one won't be confirming where I live and who I am. Especially when I am told "the call will be recorded for training purposes".

The Collies

We had a thin layer of fine snow during Friday night of which the dogs enjoyed playin in. Amy tried her best to build a huge snowball but gave up after realising it could have taken her all day. Here are a few photos of the happy collies, and a frustrated almost-ten-year-old!

Aladdin & The Bunny

I was totally overwhelmed on Wednesday night. Completely and utterly amazed at the talent and professionalism of which I saw at Amy's school. I went to watch their performance of Aladdin, rather a tongue-in-cheek pantomime portrayed by children aged 9-13. It was absolutely fantastic. I shall come clean, I hate pantomime. I can't stand all that "he's behind you" and "oh no you didn't". But I was blown away not only by the acting but by the band and the music which was again played by these incredible children. Two girls on the steel pans, an electric guitar, two saxophones, trumpets, a clarinet, a keyboard (played so beautifully by one of the teachers) and a set of drums; the choir was made up of the year 5's (that includes Amy) together with some of the year 6's, 7's & 8's. Aladdin was played to perfection, as were Widow Twanky and Hanky Panky - I couldn't fault any of it, it was the best performance I have ever seen.

My ear plugs stayed in my pocket, yes, I took ear plugs because I just can't stand the noise. But the music was so eloquently played that I couldn't have even contemplated drowning out the sound. I think what really blew me away was when Aladdin sang 'A Million Love Songs'. I kid you not, that boy could walk the X-Factor. All the songs were taken from past and present hits of Take That, and believe you me, I think They would be immensely proud to have heard Their songs sung so well. The whole performance was a total credit to the school. My next job today is to write a letter to the school to thank them for their hard work, and for entertaining so many people throughout a very pleasurable two hours. They will have done three performances after tonight's is over, and I imagine the children will be rather tired by Friday.

I feel so proud to have sent Amy to that school. Of course I looked around when the time arose to find the most suitable environment for her needs, and I'm sure others would have accommodated her just as well, but I chose this one and I pat myself on the back! She has been there just under 4 months now and seems to have enjoyed every day. She's made good friends, has mixed well with other pupils much older than herself, and has really settled in well. Today, I feel a very happy bunny.

The Meat Debate

Before I say anything else, I want to thank you for the very thoughtful and considerate words you left on my last post. I was completely overwhelmed by your good wishes, as I was by the many people who left comments on my facebook page. There sure are a lot of lovely folk out there, whom I am fortunate enough to know. So thank you again for your friendship.

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Over the weekend I cooked a turkey dinner for us, buying a large turkey crown at the supermarket. It cost £19 and the Farmer is still eating turkey butties from it. It tasted deliciously moist and we all enjoyed it to the full. I can't remember how much it weighed but it was more than enough for six of us and would have done at least two meals each. For Christmas we have ordered a full turkey, approximately 25lb which is totally free range from a farm nearby. It will cost around £70. My point is this: to me, it tastes just the same as the turkey crown we ate, and a lot of the turkey will be wasted in soup. I know the older readers of my blog will see the Farmer's point to having a full turkey, but I'm struggling. It's like ham: the Farmer insists on buying expensive ham from our local butcher, saying it tastes the best, but I buy it from the supermarket, put it on a butty and he can't taste the difference.

I bought some sliced roast beef from Asda the other week and he wouldn't eat it because it was from abroad. A part of me doesn't blame him, but it still tasted like roast beef to me. I'm all for buying local and keeping our local businesses afloat, but if they don't supply then one has to turn to the supermarket or at least a shop that does. Maybe it's the townie in me. I've been a country-bumpkin for over eight years now and definitely consider myself to be more country than townie, but maybe some things are just unchangeable.

So is it all in the mind? Is it just the fact that the meat has been bought from a butcher who buys straight from local farms, or does it genuinely taste better from the butcher/farm than it does from the supermarket?

40 Years Ago Today ....

.... I was born. My dad wanted to name me Jennifer, my mum preferred Kathryn. Or was it the other way round... Hmm, can't remember, such a long time ago. Anyway, I was christened Kathryn. I wouldn't have minded either. I wish my dad was here now, sat by my side, smiling at me like he used to. I guess I'm lucky enough to feel his spirit with me, knowing he will always be in my life is the main thing. But my mum is here, and my brother and sister. I have always felt like a child on my birthday, reminiscing about my youth, the wonderful family I have been fortunate to be a part of, making each 13th day of December so special.

And now here I am, still with people I love, my beautiful daughter and my Farmer husband now being a part of those childhood memories. Forty years have brought many ups and too many downs, but they have graced me with experience, shown me the right path, encouraged me to tread it, bringing me back down to earth when I have veered into the stars. I have so much life still to live, so many stars still to find. But for now, I shall remain content with the warmth I feel in my heart, for that is more than I could ever have wished for during the 40 years of my life.

Here are the photographs I promised of my new telescope, the Christmas tree, and my new hair do!!

A New Look

Decided I needed a new look so paid a visit to my hairdresser who has done a stirling job of colouring my hair to the darkest brown, one could be forgiven for saying it is now black. She bobbed it too, making me look more like "me" and less like a very bad impression. I made the mistake however, of not informing Amy of my plans. What is so wrong with that, I hear you ask, but it isn't as easy as it sounds. Amy needs to know things in advance, she needs to get her head around what could be a huge change in her life, yet what may seem trivial and not worth bothering about in ours. In some respects Amy has coped well with change, her support worker is always one step ahead and informs Amy of any changes taking place at school so as to prepare her for the potential challenge. At home, I try my best. Each time I have had a hair appointment in the past, it has always been my priority to tell her; an informative description of colour and style so Amy knows what to expect, or at least can cope with a different look.

She doesn't do surprises. They are too overwhelming for her to deal with. She always needs to know what is happening, people involved, times, locations. As you can imagine, she is mostly aware of gifts she will receive at Christmas and her birthday, apart from any she receives from people outside the family. There are few surprises in this house on Christmas morning.

So getting back to the hair, when she was brought home from school yesterday she took one look at me and ran inside. I knew immediately why. And I cringed, a little aware of what I had let myself in for. I went into the house after her, cheerful at seeing her home. She stood in the kitchen and sobbed, huge tears falling from her beautiful face, a look of horror in her big malteser eyes. "You're not my mum," she said between sobs, "I want my mum back." I was mortified, struggling to say the right words. "Of course I'm your mum," I replied, as I hugged her. She couldn't even hug me back, her arms wouldn't lift from her side.

I explained how I had changed my hair style, telling her I was still the same me with black hair instead of red. "But my mum didn't tell me she was going to the hairdresser's," she said, an answer for everything. In a diplomatic way I made her realise that it was important that I liked my hair, and she would have to get used to it. It took me the rest of the night to convince her that I loved her just the same as I did when I had red hair; it was bath time when she finally hugged me, kissing me on my lips as she said, "I love you, mum, but I don't like your hair".

Winter Expense

I've probably asked this before, many times, but is it really true that things happen in three's? Or could it be an old wives tale? I'd like to believe that they do, because it always seems to be that way for me. First it was the shock of having my carer's allowance suspended together with their "kick you when you're down blow" of the bill I received for £1,380 covering over-payments since May; last week we discovered we needed a new hot water cylinder as the current one has been leaking pretty badly; and this week our central heating boiler blew up. So I'm hoping that's the end of the expense so far as "have no choice" is concerned.

The house is quite cold without heating but we do have a few oil heaters which are very good at warming the old cockles. At least the sun is shining today, even though it's rather chilly outside. The boiler and the cylinder will be replaced next Wednesday and Thursday but in order to replace the cylinder, we have to turn the Aga off as it heats the water. It is impossible to touch the cylinder without severely burning oneself unless the Aga is switched off. Which means the kitchen, the only warm room in the house, will also witness a family of three closely resembling the four legged woolly creatures from the fields.

I have always loved winter, the crispness and the fresh air, looking out of the window at clear skies, having an excuse to snuggle up in the evening in pj's and pink fluffy dressing gown, content at the fact it is still only 7pm. I guess having the heating on has always been one of those luxuries I take for granted. We have a fireplace in every room but have no real fire roaring, but right now I wish we had made the effort to ring the chimney sweep and get the lounge fire sorted out, something we talked about doing a few months ago, and something we never got round to doing. Typical isn't it.

And yesterday, after being told by a friend that the Farmer would be entitled to Winter Fuel Allowance which is £250, the pension service who distribute the allowance confirmed that he isn't entitled to it because you have to be turned 60 on or before the 27th September. He missed out this year, but we'll be first in line for it next! And, they don't tell you about it, you are expected to find out for yourself. So imagine all the people out there (in this country) who are missing out because they don't know about it. Here's the website if you're interested

The Man on the Moon

We put the Christmas decorations up over the weekend. When I say "we", I actually mean "I". Slightly shocked when I opened the box containing the tree as it's a hook tree; that's three stems which connect together and dozens of branches which hook on to the stems. Actually very easy to assemble, but it took two hours to pull all the wire branches out and fix them to look somewhat real. I was pleased with the end result though, and it's a perfect size for our high ceiling lounge. Amy put the first bauble on. Then she left. "I need some fresh air," was her excuse, of which she knows I would never refuse unless it's persisting down with rain. At least all the other baubles went on the tree, in-tact. The room now resembles Santa's grotto once more, although it doesn't seem like twelve months since it did the last time. Where does time go?We took Amy to Homebase on Sunday morning to choose a tree for her bedroom. She chose a beautiful white fir, 5ft tall, and I have to say, even though I wouldn't have chosen a white tree myself, it does actually look quite stunning. And so there resembles another grotto, perhaps with an elf to welcome us.

It's my birthday next Sunday, I'll be 40. That's not old. 40 is the new 30. Someone told me a while back, she was making herself feel better at the time. My family have clubbed together and bought me a telescope; something I have wanted for many years. The Farmer put it together for me last night, but unfortunately the sky was too cloudy. It's a fabulous contraption, I've never seen anything like it. Now I have to find somewhere to keep it which means tidying up a space. And when the sky is completely clear I shall take it outside and visit the man on the moon. I wonder if there's a Santa's grotto up there too.

My mum rang last night; she's coming up at the weekend with my sister and niece. When she said, "it's not long now" in a voice as though she was talking to a ten year old, I realised that however old I become, my mum will always think of me as her little girl. She still refers to my brother, my sister, and me as 'kids'. "The kids...." she will say to people when talking about us. As I turned round to look at my beautiful little angel (as she sat on my bed picking her nose) I imagined how I would see her in thirty years time. Apart from not very well due to my old age, I had a vision of me seeing the child, the one who would always be my baby, and the decorated tree which we stood beside in admiration.

No Towel Just Yet

Things have been a bit topsy turvy in the life of Crystal Jigsaw recently. My recent illness has shattered my confidence, something I thought would never happen. Being not the most confident person, I couldn't really afford to lose any but I have; unable to even back the car out of the garage, walk to the drive gate, go out for a meal with friends, and in some cases even be alone. But it's also knocked my confidence with the blog too. You know me, I love to blog. And the other day I made a decision that was typically spontaneous of me and one which I decided to sleep on. Sleep on it I did and realised that my blogging friends are far too important to me and are clearly the inspiration I have always required to continue blogging, and continue enjoying it.

The decision I had made was to take a break from blogging. I was ready to pack my virtual bags, switch off the computer, say goodbye. But I can't. I won't. I have too much to say and lots of friends to say it to. I received some particularly kind words from Facebook friends, together with heartwarming comments and emails, and it made me remember why I started blogging in the first place; because I'm an unsociable old bugger and wanted to make some friends - of which I have done in droves via this wonderful creation called the Internet. To each and every one, I am continuously grateful for your time in reading my blog; if you want to leave a comment then you know how much I love to hear from you, if you don't want to leave a comment, perhaps you don't have time or you just feel you have nothing to say, then that's fine too. But I promise to reply to you on my comments page if you do.

Some people write for an audience, some write for fun, others write for themselves. The reason why I write on my blog? All three reasons. Always have, always will. I need to get back on my feet and shake off this lack of confidence. I don't know how I'll do it yet, but I was hoping that you might help me. I really can't face the doctor's surgery again!

Love, as always, CJ xx

Seals & White Horses

As you may know, we have had some pretty treacherous weather in the north of England recently, in some respects being typical for the time of year, in others, perhaps another reason to believe the significant changes which are indeed taking place on our planet. Peoples lives have been turned upside down when their houses were flooded, some lives have even been lost. But on the whole, we have to do what we can to protect ourselves from the horrifying conditions which continue to sweep through our lives. I live within a few miles of the coast and have seen for myself how incredible the north sea can become during a storm. Waves high enough to reach a mountain top, white horses galloping through the icy waters, breakers threatening to all who sail. Just off the coast are the beautiful and sacred Farne Islands, a group of approximately 17 islands, some of which are inhabited by the rare grey seal and a large collection of rare birds. The islands belong to the National Trust.

Unfortunately, our recent storms have caused mayhem to the wildlife too, particularly the seals. There have been many grey seals found washed up on the local beaches, having not survived their journey from an island they would have been used to. This has obviously been very distressing for the wildlife, not to mention the brave souls as they walk along the shores. But this week a couple of friends of ours called in at the farm, rather hurriedly, needing to use the phone. They had found a baby grey seal having been swept to shore and subsequently fighting for its life. Their kindness kept them by the seal's side for a few hours after they had phoned the R.S.P.C.A., who obviously didn't think the seal was in any danger for they failed to turn up in those hours whilst our friends braved the cruel weather of the north east coast. They phoned the National Trust also and were assured that someone would be along to see to the seal. I hope they arrived before the seal began its final journey.

We were quite surprised to find out that the nearest seal sanctuary is in Tynemouth, a long way down the coast, at least a good hour's drive. We felt quite saddened that such significance belonging to these impressive islands warranted us to sit around a table and express our disappointment in what we felt, was a lack of compassion towards these beautiful creatures. We would hope that if we were to go back to the beach tomorrow, the seal would have been collected and cared for, and not added to the numbers who weren't strong enough to battle the white horses. The seal was just a few weeks old.