Summer

Its hot...

Swear word poem...

Must be wild

If these be mild

Bugger all

Bloody hell

Big arse

Cow!

Load of crap

Ginger,  damn

Oh god

Goddam, git

Jeez

Sod off minger.

And then there's the medium

Of incredible taste

Hey arsehole

Load of balls

Bint? Eh what is bint

An urban word..hint, hint.

Bollocks it's bitch

Full of bullshit

Oh feck

Pissed,  munter

Shit, tits

Son of a bitch.

And then there's these

They're totally wrong

Because they're incredibly strong

Bastard, beaver

Beef curtains

Bet they pong.

Now I take it 

That some of these

Relate to women

I'm Trembling knees

Bloodclaat , clunge

Fanny, flaps and gash

Twat

No not that

Minge and snatch

Punani...

urban heavenly flower

No it ain't it's vagina.

And for the men

It's obvious then

Dick

Dickhead 

Prick or knob

Oh don't forget cock

And then there's words

Too strong to mention

C U Next Tuesday

Some might say

Or of phonic sounds for F and K

Oi you can't say that about mamma!

Rugby - is it really that bad Ms.Pollock?

Rugby...is it really that bad Ms Pollock.

The open letter, forwarded by Allyson Pollock and countersigned by over 70 academics, calling on the Government to ban rugby in schools clearly sent reverberations around the rugby world this week.

But who is Allyson Pollock and why does she seem to have a bug bear with the game of rugby which has deep traditional roots in the UK. She is a professor in public health matters at a top London university. Her work and research has powerful lobby to sway government think tanks and policy on many matters relating to public health.

So why the bug bear with rugby? It is reported for over ten years this professor has been lobbying about rugby and it's contact nature and injuries to young persons. She is not just an interfering busy body...around 2004  her own son suffered a number of injuries from playing rugby at school including a broken leg and in another incident upper body injury to the head.

Rightly so, as a parent, Ms Pollock was duly alarmed, shocked and angry...basically any parent would be as that is a fact of life. Most parents would have to simply face up to the hard school of knocks...such things happen! But for Ms Pollock, in her career, education and academic work she had the tools to rattle the feathers of the school and the rugby association in realising their responsibilities in dealing with such incidents.

So since then she has penned many articles on injury to young persons in rugby and calls for the banning of the tackle and scrum or for the rugby hierarchy to change the rules and laws of the game among youth teams. She is campaigning for an outright ban of rugby in schools and be replaced with a non contact alternative...tag or touch rugby.

She is prepared to start an e-petition in this matter so that it forces debate in parliament and she clearly has the ambition, factual resentment and academic advantage to succeed in that quest. But will her quest have repercussion for the game in general...certainly there is very real threat to this very traditional deep rooted cultural sport in that if you root out the contact element at youth level then  future generations will never learn the disciplines required to absorb contact at senior level.

Contact in rugby, in my experience, is introduced at the age of nine at club level. It is phased in over a number of years and includes ways on how to fall to ground and protecting oneself in contact situations on the field.  In schools contact is not played until year seven, tag or touch is predominant in primary schools. At secondary level, the contact element is firstly only put before boys on the curriculum, rarely offered towards girls.

Clearly there is argument and differentiation on how rugby is delivered in schools as compared to club rugby. There is a sad lacking in duty of care and primary prevention and significant shifts in schools moving away from physical sport to alternative fitness such as dance - which is hugely resented by boys.

One cannot remove contact elements in rugby just so in schools alone. If you are to have rigid policy protecting children then club rugby would have to adapt as well. Rugby here could follow the rules and laws as in French and NZ and have calendar year groups, weight groups, uncontested scrums at youth level...so would such a move satisfy the quest of Ms.Pollock? I doubt it!

Remember this, it doesn't matter how much you change the rules or to what extent you ban or reduce the element  of contact there will always be that one child who wants to put the fear of God into the opposition;  there will always be that one child who thinks they are clever ducking and diving attempted tackles; and there will always be that one child who kicks against the tackle trying to stay on their feet, swinging their elbows in wild unison. This is where inherent danger lies when those playing ignore the technique and discipline demanded by the sport.

The RFU is taking rugby programmes into schools in a serious way and has a long way to go to achieve its aims. Also the alarm bells ringing out around rugby injuries ought be put into comparisons not only against other contact sports but non-contact sport such as gymnastics and cycling. And then consider this how many children are hurt just at break time alone...probably a comparable number. Then what about outside school such as skate parks? Are councils dismantling these parks? Are schools stopping break time activity?

I bid you farewell and let you all make your informed choice and debate on this matter. Stay safe.

God bless

Amen.

The caring game blame

I hate being in this caring role. At first I thought I was strong, had my anticipations and worried anxiousness, but thought I was able enough to cope because these were my parents and they needed me not just as their son but as a caring, loving, emphatic son whom they could rely on to care for them as they now required.

So four months into this journey and I am fighting demons in my head. In essence governed society doesn't give a damn...why because my parents have the immediate fortune to fund their care which sadly for them is expensive whether it be in their own home or if they were ever forced to go into residential care.

Secondly, why should they have to go into a care home. Just because my mother had fall she is recovering and fighting back being resilient as she can. My dad, though he has dementia, just doesn't deserve that indignity and loss of going somewhere strange. They ought to have the choice to live and die in their own comfort.

And that is where I fight my demons. My parents reward me an allowance, cash gifts in their need. Deep down I don't wish for them to go into private care as the battle is to keep them well in their home...sadly a home that cannot meet or fit their present needs. 

It is the daily routine of emptying a commode; the daily task of encouraging my mum to overcome her fragility of fear; the daily witnessing of my father wetting himself or not consuming his food in a normal person's manner; or on some days the constant operation of laundry; the planning out of their meals; it is the blanking of his swearing moods as I change his clothes for an umpteenth time, sometimes myself snapping in tired frustration and concern; it is carrying the shoulder of their daily worries and pain; it is the worry of leaving them in their own company at any time and coming back to unexpected, but knowingly I should  be prepared for such eventualities, confusion and pain so ought to spring into mindful action and compassionate help...but just lately i seem to have hit a wall.

Then there is the burden of home, my family, my wife, my children. My wife also cares for her parents and holds down a full time job. I fear our children are suffering just as much as I feel for the pain my wife burdens as I burden the same here...everything seems just wrong, WRONG I tell and keep telling myself.

I blame myself, frugal living of not having the wealth or the forethought to have rightly planned or of not having had that care to have led an exemplary career to give my children that right to have a good start in their adult life's. I look back and I have wished that I hadn't done this and that and put more thought into certain things that have deemed our way  presently. I just feel I have let everyone down because I have not found the safest path in this journey and that the path i am on is crumbling away.

Sincerely, I have the assurance that I am not alone and that every person who cares for a dependant is in the same situation and feels the same frustration and pain. I just feel that I have more complex pain and right now that wall, I want a large sledge hammer and smash that wall and those bricks into, not rubble, but brick dust. I want to scream at the top of my head and shout, "Lord, I asked for an Angel and you failed me...YOU FAILED ME!"

God bless

Amen.

Caring for elderly is an insane madness (part I)

Why is caring for parents so bloody hard?

When one is thrown into the role of carer for elderly parents then one can surmise that this ought be easy at first. After all you have a relationship with your parents that has grown from that parent-child role into adult-adult status. 

And this assumption is ones first big mistake because if you are having to care because, let's say, your mother is no longer mobile or maybe your father has dementia, then your heart and mind will be seriously challenged.  It is like an egg timer being turned upside down with a massive shake so that the sand slips through faster than expected. As carer you will have to lessen that flow to give your parents and yourself a good  balance of life, and that will be hard going, emotionally, mentally and sometimes physically.

How you step into this role of carer depends on your expectations and circumstances. Do not expect it to be a quick fix because it won't be...it is a gruelling slog and if you are not readily fit for it then one will certainly suffer its pain. It will be like stumbling over sticks you fall and simply pick yourself up and start again. But learn from that fall.

In this modern age of England most of our parents probably reside in homes that most may have no downstairs toilet. So if your parent has had a fall and the most common injury in old age is a broken hip, then take heed because the recovery of a hip replacement is around six months. Therefore, with no downstairs toilet, a commode will be essential in their recovery, so plenty of air spray, pleasant smelling wipes and a nose peg will be needed...honestly, damn right essential!

Let's make the challenge more challenging...one parent is now less mobile and the other has dementia for it is this disease of the mind that to a carer is the most emotionally and mentally, dysfunctional test of character that will either harden your resolve and certainly change your once adult to adult relationship to a child-parent role. Your dementia suffering parent being the now child and you as "parent".

Haven't blogged for a while

Haven't blogged for a while

Because things went rather flat.

My mum had a fall

And dad, dementia is not cool!

My dearest in hospital she went,

A blockage due to stones,

So my time was spent,

Caring for all those ones,

That I so dearly love.

But I shall be back,

Blogging up in my bed,

To feed you the crap,

Of all life's traps.

Diversity of view,

From one of the few,

Of the strangest argumentative blogs.

Good night,

God bless,

Amen.

My advent blog...day ten and eleven

This my advent blog. Something to tell to you of that you may not have heard elsewhere, or of my worries or concerns about life. You may be able to relate to the themes I shall express so please enjoy.

So to paint the next windows or picture for days 10 & 11. Remember it is always nice to build up a few openings as those chocolates are so small...and anyway we are a busy lot.

This caring lark has been difficult. My father went to the dementia suite and it was full with clients with the same infliction. My mum was being cared for at home by the visiting enablement team. Not sure if it were just tiredness but for some reason I burst into tears in the middle of the local supermarket.

Today was a much different day. A better day. Mum joked with the carer...both pint size; carer and patient...lol. Dad slept well, think I slept well, better at least. And after dinner, mum wrote out Xmas cards and dad watched a film and I was able to visit my own family for a brief time...hooray!

Perhaps things will get better or my prayer has been answered and an Angel is at my side...so bearing all this in mind I ponder you the Rocking Around the Xmas Tree.

Enjoy your chocolates

Amen.

My advent blog...day nine.

This my advent blog. Something to tell to you of that you may not have heard elsewhere, or of my worries or concerns about life. You may be able to relate to the themes I shall express so please enjoy.

So to paint a picture or window for day 9. My mother returned home today from rehab, having had an emergency hip operation. 

As part of her on going care firstly she was transported home by hospital transport, visited by the enablement team and called on by a district nurse. So today has seen and been a lot of coming and going by the Angels of our health service.

And as we settle down for the evening my father who has dementia made attempt to place the phone back in its cradle and bemusing to me we were phoned by the police to ask if everything was okay at my parents address.

I explained what may have happened and they confirmed that they had heard my father express himself  replacing the phone, which I did for him. In doing so he must have dialled three nines and they dutifully phoned back...another angel to ensure that everything was alright.

So I ponder you the song While Shephards Watch Their Flocks by Night

Enjoy your ninth chocolate

Amen

My advent blog...days seven & eight

This my advent blog. Something to tell to you of that you may not have heard elsewhere, or of my worries or concerns about life. You may be able to relate to the themes I shall express so please enjoy.

So to paint the next two pictures or windows. Sometime you forget to open your advent on some days and when you do open them you several to open.

On the seventh day I had a phone call from one of my clients family. He served me with the sad news that his father, whom were my client, had passed away. Following a fall he was admitted to hospital and at 92 years one does not fall without causing some injury, if not serious. His were serious and with his two sons present he gave up his will to live.

On the eighth day I find myself yet again at my fathers house, looking after him whilst mum is still in rehab. My sister has treated him well but we both can see changes in him which we expect. On retiring to bed I expected him to be restless but as I write this I have not heard a peak.

So I ponder you the song Silent Night 

Enjoy your chocolates

Amen

My advent blog...day six.

This my advent blog. Something to tell to you of that you may not have heard elsewhere, or of my worries or concerns about life. You may be able to relate to the themes I shall express so please enjoy.

 

 

So to paint the picture or window for day 6. My son played for his team today in a local rugby cup semi-final.

 

Today, though my son's team lost they played fairly good and gave their opponents a hard fought struggle to win. However, the opponents did not do justice to their own playing flair and were soon at odds with the referee believing they had the right to argue decisions. They also, tried to wind up my sons team with added aggression which failed. And this team's parents, some were also heard to be slightly ungentlemanly.

 

My son and his team remained unfazed by this conduct and though they had a little crossly banter with their opponents at the end of the game, they came off the pitch holding their heads up high and accepted defeat in valour.

 

So I ponder you this song Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

 

Enjoy for sixth chocolate,

Amen.



My advent blog...day five

This my advent blog. Something to tell to you of that you may not have heard elsewhere, or of my worries or concerns about life. You may be able to relate to the themes I shall express so please enjoy.

So to paint the picture or window for day 5.

Xmas shopping

The outs but not down...

The band of salvation xmas caroling

 

 

St. Nick





And so I ponder you the song It's beginning a lot to look like Christmas.

 

Enjoy your fifth chocolate

Amen

My advent blog...day four.

This my advent blog. Something to tell to you of that you may not have heard elsewhere, or of my worries or concerns about life. You may be able to relate to the themes I shall express so please enjoy.

 

 

So to set the picture or window for day 4. Now I am IT literate, so is my wife, my son and my daughter however we are not blinking software or hardware engineers.

 

Isn't it frustrating when your hardware fails to work as you so wish, like your printer not printing out and sending everything to print manager or your wireless keyboard having a moment when you cannot type a bloody thing, change the batteries and still nowt works.

 

Then after a bit of fiddling around, or clicking almost every icon on the screen they somehow magically spring back into life and everything returns to normal. That's after one has had argument with loved ones with cries of "Oh let me try to sort it out" or "Come here let me do it" when in stark reality neither have any idea or clue as to the right solution.

 

Yes there is the help button and yes we ought have some kind of written reference to troubleshoot in such a time...but we don't and crack on regardless, perhaps unwittingly may have anonymously hacked into some super computer controlling the earth's money or weaponry.

 

So bearing all this in mind I ponder you the song Do You Hear What I Hear.

 

Enjoy your forth chocolate.

Amen

My advent blog...day three

This my advent blog. Something to tell to you of that you may not have heard elsewhere, or of my worries or concerns about life. You may be able to relate to the themes I shall express so please enjoy.

So to paint the picture or window for day 3. My son has cooking tomorrow, his favourite subject or at least one of them. Also today I met my friend's dad in town entering the Vape shop.

Our son being our son has only just reminded us of what he is cooking in class this week. Now most students would have come home with an instruction sheet on what is needed to take in for the lesson. So we shall have to ring the school tomorrow in order to obtain this information, go buy what will be needed and I shall have to take them into school in time for his lesson...troublesome as I have also a meeting with his head teacher!

So to my friend's dad. I saw him enter the Vape shop which made me inquisitive as to why he had and therefore I waited for him to come out and I asked him why?  He had gone in their to ask if what they sold were some sort of legal drugs...which I can understand is just like him to enquire, strangely.

Bearing these two tales in mind comes to me the word perception and I thought of the xmas song It Came Upon the Midnight Clear.

Enjoy your third chocolate.
Amen

My advent blog...day two.

This my advent blog. Something to tell to you of that you may not have heard elsewhere, or of my worries or concerns about life. You may be able to relate to the themes I shall express so please enjoy.

So to paint the second picture or window, here goes! I decided to look out for the joyous moments of the day, the triumphant moments and whatever seemed to be faithful in nature.

Last night I found a film for my dad to watch, a Clint Eastwood film from the 'Dirty Harry' movies. I forget the title, but dad amazingly to me watched every minute. Whether he understood or followed the plot I do not know. At each break for the adverts he did not know if the film had finished...clearly he must have assumed the adverts to be part of the film. Triumph!

He also slept well and the next day his daily carer was able to get him from his slumber, washed and dressed with great professionalism. After breakfast and some housework I took my dad into town. Here he met someone he knew, but could not at first remember or recall until they exchanged names. When my dad realised and his distant memory kicked in he was beaming and smiling.

And then as we visited the centre for the elderly he recalled the care coordinator and the leader of the dementia suite. I was amazed and proud my dad had remembered them so well having only ever met them briefly to my knowledge. Joyous!

In the town we met up with my wife, bear in mind in doing this 24/7 care I have not seen my family for several days. Together we went back to our house for a cuppa, my wife talked about her day and what she had been doing. In her face was a look of sadness, missing me, missing that little help I would have done around the house, missing me earn some dollar for the day gardening, missing my distant love, a shoulder to cry on and lean on when needed.

I expressed a fear that she were doing to much and should relax, slow down for her sake for she had hurt herself this morning. I suppose we were both sad, but had a deep understanding of our family situations with caring keeping us apart. And our children are coming to terms, slowly, with this predicament. Faithfulness!

But on this day our MP's are debating and likely to vote for military action in Syria...will this action make any difference in securing peace in our world today. Can we really eradicate the cause of this action. Ponder these thoughts and reflect on the song O Come all ye Faithful. 

Enjoy your second chocolate

Amen

Dementia sucks....but hey! I can cook?

A sketch of my dad at The Waiting Miner

Well, I have been into this #dementiasucks lark for over two weeks now, helping my dad in his 24/7 care as he battles dementia, my mum laid up in rehab care,  recovering from an emergency hip replacement (partial) and it feels like a roller coaster of emotions.

It has also been a road of self discovery, self belief, crying by self, sleeping by self and being by self...so I have raided my mums iPad and blogged away contently at what I can only describe as "can this year get any better or worse."

Apart from the games, zip up and down, pants up, pants down, sock on, sock off, walk around the living room, touch things, move things, move things back things, the singing to nowt but Nat King Cole, telly on, telly off, open front door, close front door, wipe up, chuck cuttery in any fooking drawer, take them out, put them back..."Hey son!? Is this right?"; then the daily ritual of recycling so then have to play that outdoor game of  "get the right recyclable into the correct bin"... then you wonder and question why, why, why?

That is a just part of his daily routines and habits and when one becomes accustomed to them, like eating meals with his cutlery knife, then it makes this caring lark a little more easier as each day passes and not the dreaded challenge that I feared. I discovered things, met past acquaintances, met people I have never met before and probably never has my dad as he goes about that staring, eventually asking "Do I know you?".... Jeez next time I will make sure I put that extra hour on my car!

Then there is the dribbling, runny nose, shuffling of his feet, kicking away the fallen rubbish or leaf on the ground. And, when we visit mum there is the calling her precious...but most of all is the crying, floods of tears that I just can't hold back...weep, weep, weep! Oh and dad crying too!

The saddest and most hurting bit is being apart from my family...my good wife...now leading the single mother life style but still struggling with the family ups and downs of before and now. I miss my kids, taking my daughter reluctantly to the station each day #dadstaxi; the giving-in to the daily demands of my son, our son, troublesome in the nicest possible way.

So I find myself here with dad, sometimes lonely, building up a new relationship with a father whom is a totally different character...not the dad I once knew, not the dad he was and never will be again, but still my dad, my brother and sisters' dad, husband of nearly 60 years to mum...for he has changed due to dementia and will keep changing, downwardly until Heaven has a room ready for him.

In this brief time, we have become closer. We have had walks out, family have visited and I am blessed with the knowing how truly wonderful my aunts and uncles have been...dutiful so dutiful. And I found out that I can cook....don't tell the wife...I can organise but maybe not assertively as my sister - poor big brother he got a sharp telling off - and I can clean plumbing pipes!!

And with this organising, arranging care, I have learnt to be sneaky and state a few fibs to dad so not cause upset in his thinking, his worry or concern that may well arise from telling the truth...so on Monday daddy you are going to the day centre...no, no, no...it's a surprise sort of party, get together with others like you, suffering like you and they will have old stuff there to aid your memories.

At each crossroad along the way I have felt the weakness, the urge to cry but slowly I have to control my emotions as I learn each skill that is needed such as last night, the mishap from toiletry, something that tested my resolve and anxiety and then today the display of anger as my brother came to relieve me for the duty to our father who is living in the moment.

So that's the way it is...normality may never return, no, not may, but never will.

God bless.

Amen

Oh, Deal, why do I not love you.

Oh, Deal, why do I not love you.

I am falling out of love for my town,

Things that have happened,

And things that I do,

Are making me feel down.

I see despair every way I look,

Finding it hard to summon feelings,

In the good that is there,

This is my town and my life it has took.

A creeper we had,

And from us they stole,

A dog we had,

Losing her has taken its toll.

Parents growing old,

And their suffering I see,

Their worry is mine,

Affecting deep in me.

Oh, Deal, why do I not love you,

Born here and lived here,

I now want to go,

Somewhere very different in miles from here.

New housing new people,

Roads clogged with cars,

Weeds in the gutters,

And litter on the streets.

Bins overflowing,

Emptied so so,

Ragged pets running loose,

And leaving their do.

In business I am,

But many their are,

All plying for the same custom,

A worry to survive.

Oh, Deal, why do I not love you,

Born here and lived here,

I now want to go,

Somewhere very different in miles from here.

Kids in and out,

Their rudeness,

Reluctance to help in and around,

Our home our house.

No money,

Few friends,

A dear loving wife,

Two kids and debt,

Consuming my life.

I need to shout,

Find a way to cope,

At the moment I see,

No sign or light or hope.

Oh, Deal, why do I not love you,

Born here and lived here,

I now want to go,

Somewhere very different in miles from here.

Sexist East Kent Mercury Report...lol

A Case of Deliberate Sexist Reporting...

Now I am not one for political moaning...absolute bloody lie...what me? Oh I admire Maggie the Iron Lady, not for what she did, but she was a leader and led well. Had the guillotine been at her disposal then she would have chopped off more heads then Henry VIII.

But we are still under the influence of Thatcherism long after her death and that is despite being in the pit of austerity. So what does the future bode...well more austerity, tinged with a return to some old Thatcherite policies if our dear friend Mr. Cameron gets in for a second term.

So what if Labour get in, is Ed up to leading us with is Skunk like hair and rat face eyes. And will he be in partnership with the Scottish lady, Ms Sturgeon, "Mary Queen of Scots reborn"... Yep she will be a tough one! And does the other Ed have the Balls to give us more and yet spend less.

Well, most will be having to make up their minds in the next seven days or less...endless leaflets dropped through your door, people with different coloured rosettes knocking on your door like bloody Jehovah's.

But I ask you, if you have a Labour poster in your window and some nerd asks "Are you voting Labour? Can we count on your support?"....der...of course!

Political programmes, adverts, broadcasts, who has done what and when and who was to blame for the mess...what the dog mess...ha ha! And then there are your local rags, profiling all the candidates, giving you some idea if you haven't made up your mind yet.

But, get this...my local rag has profiled the five main hopefuls. Now we have two female contenders, one for Labour and one for Lib Dems and three male contenders: one Tory boy, UKIP and a Green.

Now clearly hidden in its layout is the clear agenda of our local rag, unbiased, non political support but sexist to say the least. Now the Greens have been given very little edited space...so small you would think this is the editor or reporter.

So the rag has detailed the two female prospectives on one page and has the last two male contenders on the opposing page. My dear local rag have you deliberately pitted male against female..sexist point one!

Then look at the photo presentation..our two ladies have passport size pictures displayed whilst for the Tory boy and UKIP no-hoper...well they have purposely taken photos, six times larger in size then the lady hopefuls...sexist point two!

So does this,  I wonder, mean that my local rag is trying to draw your interest more towards the Tory boy and UKIP outsider and drawing you away from Labour or LibDem because they are ladies...pure sexism I proclaim.

Any way, I know who I am voting for on the day, for I have only seen one contender...not the Tory boy whom I have not seen; nor UKIP chappie; LibDem; well she could be anywhere...and the Greens...well had them for dinner...lol!

That's all folks! I gladly await my local rags response!

God bless. Amen.

Farewell Tamba

Farewell Tamba

We will miss you staring with those Shrek eyes,

Wanting your dinner,

Always at five o clock,

Always dead on time.

We will miss your perkiness,

Looking for treats,

Or bringing that ball to us,

For us to throw for you to play.

We will miss taking for a walk,

Sniffing at other dogs,

Sniffing their scent,

Everywhere you went.

We will miss you sleeping,

In our room keeping us awake,

Your snoring,

Dreaming,

And sometimes barking at noises in the middle of the night.

We will miss your dog hair,

Matted on our carpet,

Or the sound of teeth on metal,

As you licked your bowl bare.

We will miss you barking,

Whimpering at the dogs next door,

Or your waiting at the fence,

For a biscuit from the toddlers,

It's you that they adored.

We will miss calling you,

For dinner or walkies,

Your excitement would show,

As we open the cupboard door.

We will miss taking you,

In the back of the car,

Down to the promenade,

For that walk along the front.

We will miss you dear Tamba,

A lovely dog you were,

Smooth haired Collie,

A breed so rare.

It were the hardest decision,

But you had something inside,

The pain will go on hurting,

Without you at our side.

But doggie heaven now is your home,

And do not worry Tamba,

For you are not alone,

For I am sure God has ready,

A room especially for you.

A gardening poem

Tis the growing season again

Tis the growing season yet again,

First were the snowdrops, 

Then colourful crocus,

Majestically tall daffodils,

And shrubs into bud.

In shops are violets and pansy,

To plant in those beds,

Or to make hanging baskets,

For your homesteads.

The first cuts to the grass,

Might make it look yellow,

But then come the rains,

To make the grass green.

A rake and a feed,

A scattering of seed,

Will all do good,

Tis the growing season again.

Follow a plan,

To make your gardens look lush,

Don't leave it too late,

Or garden might look tired,

When it could be looking so plush.

So when buying the chocolate,

And hotcross buns,

Plan for your garden,

It's colour and look,

An outdoor space for you to have fun.

Good effort now,

Acquires some work,

And there are bargains to be had,

As shops tempt you with money saving perks.

So you see,

There is a lot going on,

Everything growing,

With the sun and the rain,

Tis the growing season yet with us again.

They took part of our life away...

They violated our peace

On the evening of the 1st April, something happened, something shockingly bad that has affected us inside, deep inside. We feel scared, violated, useless, pathetic and more, much more.

Thursday should have been just another normal day in my battle to live and work. The first full day of the kids on their school break for Easter. I should have been happy, another day battling anxiety doing people's gardens, making them look good. The kids would have minded themselves looking for things to do during the holidays, my wife was to visit and help her disabled mum.

I was at a client's garden, weeding. Yes, digging out the stuff not wanted or loved. Then I got a call from my wife whom retorted at me that she could not find her handbag. Had I picked it up? Did I know where it was? I replied to her it must be somewhere, had she looked everywhere possible around the house. I was questioning her, my wife was questioning me and we were doubting each other and doubting our children.

Then it dawned that it had been taken, but how we could not comprehend, how? I had to abandon my client, feeling angry, stupid, thinking it was probably under a pile of clothes or cushions. I came home and my wife was in a panic mode, angry, upset and each time I wanted to look she would shout at me "I have done that, done that..."

I went outside and looked around, in fact my wife was already doing so as drove onto the driveway. We were facing the real frightening thought that someone had entered our home and lifted my wife's handbag.

And the most awful thought is that they did this while we were in, at home. We were at home.

We routed out our insurance policy, my wife contacted them, contacted the police, called a locksmith and contacted the bank. And in this time we were going into shock, shaking, angry. We kept thinking how, what did we do and trying to recall what had happened from the previous evening to the morning.

I always on most every occasion lock the front, have been bolting the back gate and locking our shed. I am always conscious about our security. And because of my anxiety I tend to double check and check again. But do you need to lock up when your at home, awake and mobile and active, especially so the door to the back garden.

We asked our neighbours next to us and we found out that there had been a disturbance outside. Some young persons were chased off down an alley by some residents in our street. Then we found out that a house round the corner had a theft.

Whilst waiting for the police to call that day, what should have been a normal working day my wife told me to go back to my clients, try and carry on, but I found it hard to do that, thinking and mulling over what we had  suffered. Kept thinking about it, the thought of someone entering our home, seeing my wife suffering and myself feeling useless on how to console her visible grief.

The police came, took notes, looked around. They told us we would never have known if someone had simply pushed opened the door saw the item and just lifted it right under our noses, either whilst we were in our living room or had gone upstairs to the toilet.

One lapse in our security, our movements seen from outside and an opportunist thief took that small moment of time and not only take the handbag but took a part of our life away.

We went out and looked around our neighbourhood and I will go out this morning and look again. And probably do the same again tomorrow.  I have scoured selling sites and will do so again later in the day. My wife will check our bank, we will look out of our windows scrutinizing each and every person walking by in our street.

And then we must overcome the fear inside us in that; can we leave our house, visit the shop, go and see relatives and friends. We can draw back our curtains and blinds, momentarily closed because of fear, we can leave the back door open in the daytime whilst we are at home, not having to lock it just because we are turning our backs to head into the living room or reach into a cupboard.

This is normal life but when normality will be restored I do not know. One opportunist thief has destroyed the peace we had, scum we call them, scum. In taking your chance you took from us not just an item but you took a part of our life away. In stealing an item you stole our life, violated our peace and your own inner thoughts were of triumph and escape, you think you were victorious in some sort of battle, had a right to take when you did not have.

We feel we have no right to belong in society now, but it is you who should have no right to belong. God may forgive you but why should we forgive. We might feel sorry but why should I empathise with persons like you. I pray your thoughtless action stays with you until your death because today you changed us, destroyed us, violated us. It is you who should be in a prison not us!

May God have mercy on your soul.

Amen.