Midnight thoughts

It's nearly 12 pm. My hands are covered with paint as I prepare my home for viewing by the estate agents. I'm tired and emotional.

Earlier in the day, I watched my youngest son, the no 1 seed in a tennis tournament (which is based on his past record) crash out in the second round to an opponent with not even half his talent. It's tough watching your child be defeated but when only three years ago they won a national tennis title at Wimbledon it's a lot harder.

And I wonder why I wasted so much of my life with someone who has created so much havoc in our lives and who, even now,  refuses to rise above his narcissistic self-esteem issues to salvage anything for his children.

There is such a burning anger in me. I know I should let it go or it may destroy me. But right now, when he has taken so much from me, destroyed every aspect of our marriage, stripped me of my family inheritance and the ability to secure the future for my children through his foolish actions, there is no forgiveness in me.

Nor will there ever be.

I have now cast aside all my trust, patience, forgiveness and my love.

And I will use my anger to drive me forward.

https://youtu.be/2vjPBrBU-TM

A Worrying Start to the Month

I was feeling pretty pleased with myself earlier this morning as I'd made it through the April A to Z Challenge when, truthfully, at the outset I didn't think I'd last the distance. So, as I am on the late shift today and have a 12.30pm start at work I thought I'd take a few cheeky minutes in bed before I tackled the housework. So I jumped into bed, leant over the side and picked up my iPad, popped on my glasses and set about spellchecking my last A to Z.

Only, horror upon horrors, since writing my last A to Z in the middle of night, my eyesight had drastically deteriorated! The page was all fuzzy when normally my typos are jumping out at me and slapping me around the face like a wet mackerel to remind me of my gross grammar incompetencies. Immediately, I cursed the menopause, the wear and tear of getting old, and rued the fact that with such rapid eyesight deterioration I was definitely not going to be able to avoid an optician's appointment and new prescription glasses.

That's when I sensed something else was wrong.

That's when I realised I was wearing two pairs of glasses.

Oh God, please don't let me do that at work. Please. It's bad enough being the eldest in the shop, don't let it look like I've got dementia as well.

Thank you, Lord.

Z is for Zealot

In previous years on the A to Z, I finished off with some spectacularly bad poems: Zachary the Inventor and Ziggy the Zoologist. This was mainly because I couldn't think of any other word other than "zoo" which is not very impressive for someone who purports to be a writer. However, this year I have actually thought of a Z word which needs discussing!

And that word is "zealot".

Be afraid, be very afraid!

So a dictionary explanation of zealot is as follows:

A person who is fanatical or uncompromising in their religious, political, or other ideals.

Now as you probably know by now I am quite plain-speaking so my simplistic definition of a zealot is someone who is...a complete nutter fruitcake. Sadly, there seems to be a lot of nutt.. fruitcakes in the world at present. I think most ordinary folks were hoping that the kind of zealots we are seeing active today had died along with Nazis Germany. Not so. In fact, the world seems to be bursting with nutters at the moment. Here, in the UK, as we approach an impromptu general election the nutters are out in force. In addition, almost anyone who is remotely famous seems to have an opinion on the political scene and especially the issue of Brexit which, undoubtedly, is the key election issue.

Unfortunately, a number of my Facebook friends appear to be nutter mode too. Some of them have
been banging on and off about the injustice of Brexit in various ways for months. There's no other way to say this - but their ranting is like being boxed in the ears indefinitely. Now, contrary to what you folks might think, I am actually pretty discreet about my political opinions on FB because, unlike this blog which is very much my own personal space, I don't see Facebook as a forum for sounding off about my political opinions and hacking off the majority of my friends who just want to see nice pics and be generally supportive of each other.

Yeah so since this is my space, I can come straight out and say it - the Facebook zealots are mainly (okay they were ALL) opposers to Brexit or to the present government. Somehow, they all suddenly seem to be experts on European politics and economics! Huh? How can this be?  In fact, I've noticed it seems a common trait in Remoaners generally to have a ridiculous level of self-righteousness that couldn't get any bigger without shoving a large poker up their asses. Several times over.

Now I enjoy a good political argument but it's impossible to have a reasoned argument of any sort with a zealot. It's a complete waste of time attempting to discuss anything which might otherwise prove interesting or enlightening with someone with opposing views but who is less zealous. You might as well go and do something more constructive like clean the loo or put the bins out. Generally, I just let out a large groan when I see another one of their moaning posts. I suspect most of their other friends do too, even those on the same political wavelength.

Anyway, it's not really their political opinions which irk me. There's nothing wrong with having passionate ideals and without people who are highly motivated by injustice some of the biggest political and social changes in history would never have happened. But, let's face it, European politics and economics is not such a clear cut issue as, for example, the abolition of slavery or the Suffragette movement. So what really annoys me about these new pro-European zealots is the way in which their opinions are written - mostly in a condescending, "holier than thou" manner which is extremely
offensive to anyone who might hold the opposing view. Some of the insinuations, in particular against those who have might have supported Brexit, have suggested that those who support it are bigoted, dim, uneducated, xenophobic etc etc etc.

Oh really? All of them? Huh?

Now I can't proclaim to be a saint when it comes to throwing insults (obviously) as I do it regularly on my blog but, in my defence, I only do it to people who I consider fair game and who, in the very unlikely event they ever stumble across this blog, would be unlikely to be concerned about a few jokes by an insignificant blogger.

Anyway, what it boils down to is I'm fed up with these know-it-alls. I'm at the point where I might actually rise to the bait or just delete them from Facebook. I like seeing pictures of fluffy cats on my timeline, reading personal success stories and seeing what daily stuff folks are getting up to!  If I want to read political discussions I can hang out at The Guardian or The Telegraph and if I just want some pictures of giant arses (political or otherwise) I can hang out at The Mail.

So that wraps up the A to Z. I didn't think I do it this year with all that's going on in my life. But I did.

Onwards and upwards as they say.

 If you've call into my blog during the A to Z and I've not dropped by your's yet I'll be playing catch up over the next week or so. In the meantime, keep blogging!

Y is for Yellow Belly

I just read my post from yesterday. And I've decided alcohol obviously enables me to get the creative juices flowing as when I started that post I had absolutely no idea what I was going to write.

Sadly, I don't think green tea with lemon has the same effect on me. *Looks forlornly at cup by side*

So only Y and Z to go on the A to Z! I didn't actually think I'd make it through the month so I guess somewhere I still must have a bit of stamina left.

Hmm. I still have no idea to what to write about so I'll just keep going until my brain fires up.

Oh yes. I'll write about an experience I had today at work. So I shall call this post Y for Yellow Belly which in the UK is a colloquial expression for cowardice.

Yep, so today I met a young lady, aged around 30, who was out shopping with her mother. I sold her a £1600 pair of diamond earrings to cheer herself up as she had just been dumped by text.

Now I concluded that because of her age, the amount of money she spent, and the fact that she was upset enough to divulge her news to a stranger it was probably a relationship that had been a lengthy one as well as a meaningful one (to her at least.) I felt very sorry for her - dumping someone by text - what kind of person does that? In my opinion, a "yellow belly" and, frankly, I thought if he didn't have enough courage to end it with her face-to-face then she was better off without him. (Of course, I didn't say that as it was not my prerogative to do so.)

So, I've observed in the course of my life that some people are really not good at communicating and that can severely impact their relationships and that quality of their life. When the going gets tough and they can't communicate on a deeper level about the stuff that really matters the relationship is basically shafted. A relationship can continue with problems unresolved especially if there are other considerations like children and housing etc but it's never the same for the communicator who never gets resolution. In essence, silencing one partner because of the other's inability to talk (whether intentionally or otherwise) becomes a form of manipulation and emotional abuse.

I think that young lady had a lucky escape. Being dumped by text signifies to me a lack of empathy and the ability to confront emotional situations. She could have ended up marrying him and finding that out only when the going got tough. Better to find out now and have a chance to find someone else who doesn't rely on texts or social media to do his dirty work.

Well rant over. Hopefully, that lovely young lady enjoys her earrings and finds an honorable young man to sweep her off her feet.

And when I am ready to move forward with my own life, I shall have "good communicator" at the top of my list. Along with about thirty other requirements. At least thirty. Probably more. A lot more. In fact, it could be a very long list indeed.

One, of course, will be the necessity to have a very good sense of humour indeed.

*Chuckles*

X is for people I'd like to x-ray.

Firstly, let's get something out of the way. When I developed my hiatus hernia a couple of years ago I effectively gave up alcohol. However, in order to face a huge mound of ironing earlier this evening that seems to have the capability to reproduce, I have decided to indulge.

Therefore, as I write this post I am verging on the tipsy. By the time I finish it, I could be pressing my keyboard from underneath my desk. Luckily, I have plenty of fat to absorb the alcohol but any minute now I expect my lips to do a Mick Jagger. Luckily, alcohol doesn't appear to affect other parts of my body (except my brain) otherwise my arse might turn into some hideous monstrosity like the one which is attached to Kim Kardashian's arse.

You know whenever I see a picture of Kim Kardashian's butt I imagine that scene from Alien where the Alien bursts forth John Hurt's stomach. I keep seeing it over and over in my mind - Kimmy lying on the beach when her butt suddenly explodes and this small lethal creature that has been living off globules of her fat bursts forth and latches hold of Kanye West's face.

Now that's what I call a summer movie. Not that girlie Disney princess stuff. They'd be queues right around the block for a sci-fi movie like that. Especially if Piers Morgan got mutilated in it too. They couldn't call it Alien Butts or  Butt Feeders or even Arse Armageddon. 

Now, what was I supposed to be writing about? 

Oh yes. A word beginning with X.

X-ray? Blimey, I'd love to x-ray Kim's butt and see what's inside. I could probably get a thesis out of it. Maybe even a Nobel prize for science. That would be super cool.

Whilst I'm at it - if I had to a chance to x-ray Gerard Butler I would. Any part of him. I'm not fussy. 

I'd also like to x-ray Daniel Craig's gun. I've heard it's pretty big. Apparently, it also never fires blanks. I think that's the sort of rumour that needs proper scientific investigation.

Who else? I'd like to x-ray Donald Trump's head. Just to see if there's anything inside it or if it's just an empty vacuum. Now I know he gets a lot of stick but I reckon there is something there. However, I'm not sure a packet of Jelly Babies is really that impressive.

I'd also like to x-ray Rupert Murdoch's wallet. And then perhaps his colostomy bag. Just for fun.

Anyone else? Oh yes. Tom Cruise. How could I forget my arch nemesis? Perhaps it goes without saying I'd have to x-ray his brain just to see what the hell is going on inside it. Perhaps it's full of tiny spaceships whizzing around? Hmm could be.

Anyway, it's gone 11pm here and I need to be up before 7 as I need to be at work by 8 am. So I must love you and leave you with this question - who would you like to x-ray and why?

W is for Why and Writing

When my children were small "why" was a word which cropped all the time at the beginning of sentences. "Why" would often proceed moments of amusement and laughter when I was forced to explain all sorts of weird and wonderful topics.

When I was a teenager, and I wondered how the world worked and was searching for those answers I often ask myself "why" questions. More often than not, I couldn't come up with answers about religion or existence or even about algebra but, eventually, I developed my own thoughts on life and accepted this life for what it is. I learnt that when it comes to philosophy, you don't always have to have the answer but sometimes contemplating issues give you a better perspective and appreciation of life.

Now, as I move through middle-age towards inevitable death, I wonder "Why" my life is turning out as it is.

I have some answers to some of my questions and for others, I don't. Those unanswered questions are difficult to lay to rest.

But somehow I must let them go. Hopefully, writing will be my cure.

V is for Vanity

So I am running behind on the A to Z again. Unfortunately, due to the complicated life I lead at the moment, I simply having no energy most days to write. I know some writers seem to thrive on stress and trauma but that's not me - my best work is when I'm relaxed and happy and when I can let my mind roam free.

So V is for Vanity. I was really going to let rip on this subject as I find the increasing emphasis on looks and body image, particularly in the media, very unwholesome and perhaps very damaging to many young men and women who aspire to look like photoshopped celebs. But of course, vanity is not always just about looks and when it is wrapped up in narcissism it can have so many more destructive traits.

So where I work at the moment, I see many women (mainly young but also older women too) absolutely caked in make-up and teetering around in high heels which in a few years will have their feet covered in bunions and deformed. I find it rather sad, that when these young women are at an age when the majority of them have healthy, fresh-looking skin they feel it necessary to plaster it with a cement about three shades darker than their natural skin tone. Top that with pencilled eyebrows and false eyelashes some of them just look like replica Barbie dolls. For old bags like myself, I kinda understand the need to cling onto to some looks and feel your best for as long as possible but, nevertheless, sometimes when I see faces with caked with makeup I seriously wonder if I would recognize the person underneath if I were to see them without makeup.

So, as I was saying, I was really going to let rip on this subject (I was just warming up there) but then last night Master Benedict and I were messing around with a mobile phone and he took a picture of me.

And there's no other way to say this...

But I looked like I'd been hit by a bus. A double decker bus. Probably travelling at 60mph.

And then after I'd been hit by a bus some bastard had inflated me with a bicycle pump.

So in other words, I looked shite. (And that's putting it mildy.)

So life hasn't been too good for me for the last two years or so and seeing that picture really brought it home to me that I need to look after myself more. In every way.

I guess there's a balance to be had in all things. At the moment I haven't found it. Hopefully, I'll find it soon but I am guessing it's not likely to happen for three or four years. In the meantime, I'm going out to buy some makeup and some bubble bath.