I have never bothered knitting much for Christmas, however, this year I decided to pull out all the stops and make a Christmas Wreath. I still have to finish it with a “Merry Christmas” on it, but alas I cannot find red felt letters anywhere for love nor money, which means I may have to make them, or find a cake topper that will fit.
I have, like many of you, a stash that fills a whole room. More yarn than I will ever use, but obviously need in my life, after all, a life without yarn is a life without purpose, and as my all-time favourite designer, William Morris said: “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.”
With that, I decided to make quick beanie hat using Hayfield Spirit DK yarn. It took no time at all to make, I managed to watch two episodes of “The Leftovers” and two of “The Cabin with Bert Kreischer”. Who said that men cannot multi-task has no idea. The only thing that pissed me off was the join ladder that appeared, which never has in the past, and I have knitted many many hats on DPN’s. But it was a quick knit and I cannot expect perfection whilst watching TV too LOL
Anyway, here it is.
Back on 26th August, I talked about my busted nose, and how it all came to be. After the visit to the doctors, I finally got an appointment for the ENT department a few weeks ago. The consultant told me to tilt my head and she said without even looking properly “Yes, there is quite a large hole there”. I told her that the doctor did not see it, which she said that it was her job and she does this day in, day out, and chuckled. She then got the camera out and showed me the hole and all the scaring inside my nose from my many operations. Her diagnosis was that they would attempt to fix the hole by cutting and roughing up the edges so that it may knit on its own and repair the hole. All the scaring she explained needed to be cut out and made better and she would reposition my septum and with a bit of luck I will be able to breathe properly after it has all healed and the whistling will be gone, however, she did say that there could be a chance that it will not work, and if that is the case I will have a larger operation and they will remove nasal bone and do a more severe version of this along with new nasal tubes (of which I already have one).
Today it all started with a visit to the hospital for my pre-med. MRSI test, ECG, blood pressure, heart and lungs were all tested and details are taken of allergies and medication taken. I am to have a COVID-19 test on Saturday and then M and I have to isolate until I go for my operation next Tuesday. I was surprised by the isolation part, but I am not complaining as it means I can be well-rested before the operation. I have to be in the hospital for 7:30am which is a pain the in the arse as I will have to get a taxi there which will cost a fortune as it is 10 miles away in another county. M does not drive, so I have enlisted the services of my stepfather to collect me when I am able to go home, which should be early evening. They suggested that I should take the week off work, but I have had full reconstructive surgery and gone to work a couple of days later with my face in plaster like a hockey mask and stitches, and I had surgery a year ago on my face to remove skin cancer and was off just the day of the operation, so I will see how I feel.
Fingers crossed it all works.
For those not of this isle, then you may not know what The Third Day is. Imaging Wicker Man without the burning of Edward Woodward (yes, the original film, not the crap remake). It is set on the real island of Osea just off the Essex coast (Southern England). Osea is a private island that is only accessible via a causeway that is usually underwater apart from when the tide goes out. I had no idea that the island existed, but I am intrigued and fancy visiting it to stay whenever the world goes back to normal.
The story follows the islanders who seem to have a pagan lifestyle with their own take on religion, that the island is the heart of the planet and if things go sour on the island then that too happens to the rest of the world. Jude Law is the focal point in the first three episodes which are “summer”, and Naomie Harris is focal for three episodes of “winter” which has not yet been aired yet. However, there is also a middle bit Calle “Autumn” which makes sense. It started at 9:30am this morning and is on for 12 hours, no interruptions for commercials, just a solid 12 hour “one take”episode with no cutaways, scene changes, just done as a POV. Throughout there is eerie music playing and none of the dialogue can really be heard properly. It started out travelling from the mainland to the island which took just over 30 minutes of what I can only describe as a camera on a remote-controlled unit, slowly moving at a slow walking pace over the causeway. I am two and a quarter hours in and I have to say it is the oddest thing I have seen. It is slow, and as mentioned no real dialogue to listen to, but is quite hypnotic, rain splashes on the camera lense which after a small-time seem natural.
The weather outside is bad here, so watching something for 12 hours in the background seems like a good thing to do, and who does not like a bit of Jude Law. If you have the time, check it out, but be prepared for something very odd.
On Thursday we received a letter from the DVLA confirming that we were no longer the owners of our X-Trail from 27th August. Now, this came as a bit of a shock as I had just got out of it and had definitely sold it. Within the letter it stated that I would get a refund on the road tax in due course. Because the car did not have road tax on it, my insurance would not be valid, and had not been valid for a week. Basically, I had been driving illegally and if I had an accident my insurance would not cover me, I could lose my driving licence, my car could be taken from me and crushed, and if in an accident possibly go to prison.
I made lots and lots of calls to find out what had happened, who was responsible for this and to get it all corrected. The top and tail of it was that no one wanted to take responsibility for the mistakes. The car dealer was blamed at first as we are getting a new car and should have had it delivered on 1st September, but due to COVID and Nissan factory shutdown it was running late in production. I was told that because we were trading the car in and the new car was late the dealer should have updated the dates and it would not have happened. I was not happy with this and argued that if that was the case then date from DVLA would have been the 1st and not 27/8.
In the end, I was told that something has gone wrong and that it would be fixed within the next week. WHAT? So how were we supposed to get about, and me go to work etc? I wanted a car and that was that. This was nothing to do with me, so whoever it is needed to sort out a car immediately. I was told that a car would be with me within 4 hours and the car hire people would call me to make sure they send a suitable vehicle. 3 hours passed and no call, so on the phone I went only to be told that they don’t have a car for me as the place up north is closed. In the meantime whilst a hire car was being found I was given a taxi account to use until it was sorted. But as with everything else in this, it was not that easy.
There are two places that do the car hire, one 30 miles south and another 35 miles north, and wouldn’t you know, neither had a car available. The place north of here is under COVID restrictions and is under lockdown. Understandably I did not want a vehicle that is sat in the middle of a rising city pandemic and made my feelings known. I was promised that my request would be adhered to, but promises are never kept. The southern branch I was told would call me and get it sorted, and again, this never happened.
Friday comes and I get a taxi to work. After 4 hours in work (11am) I call again to find out what’s going on and am told that it would be sorted out today and not to worry. Finally at 1:15pm I get a gall to say they have a car and it will be not he way soon, but it was coming from the branch in lockdown. I did not want to take it, but at this point in time I had not choice as I needed a car. 4pm it was delivered, a Vauxhall Crossland X, which is not big at all, and I think I could fit it into the glove compartment of my X-Trail. A quick spray with the disinfectant spray and crossed fingers that all would be well.
I spoke to the dealer after and told him what had gone on and he filled me in with what he had been told, almost sounding sceptical about it all, especially that he was blamed initially and that I was not blaming him. We have bought 4 cars from him over the past 10 years and never had a problem. I now have this car until it is all sorted out with DVLA, and my car is sitting on the drive doing nothing.
I told you, you could not make it up.
I keep seeing posts that people have made on social media of them when they were little and now they are big. I decided to join the trend as I thought it was a bit of fun, especially since I have changed a hell of a lot over the 44 years between photos. I thought I’d share with you all to, me at 6 years old v me now at 50.
I know that my readers do not know my husband apart from things written here which is a shame as he is one of the nicest people I know. I am not saying that because I am married to him, or that we have been together for 21 years next month, but am saying it because it is true. He is totally selfless, will go out his way to help people, and puts everyone, no matter who, before himself. All in all, he is a decent human being, and in all honesty, a rarity these days.
His family, however, are vile, despicable and overall shit people. M’s mum, who was the only decent one of them, sadly passed away 8 weeks ago this Sunday. Not one of his family has reached out to him to see if he is okay. As most will know, M is disabled and has neurological problems amongst others, so life is hard at the best of times, however, his family treat him as though he is making it all up, even though there are hundreds and hundreds of reports regarding his disability/problems, some of which are inherited from his Mum. At the funeral M was left on his own, his sister, brother and father walked together, leaving him to struggle about 20 feet behind, never checking on him. M never complained, he just got on with it. At the graveside, they all walked off and got into the cars and left him there, again never thinking about assisting him and getting him to the car. At the meal after the funeral, all the adults sat together around a large table and never made room for him, leaving him to sit with the children. After the proceedings of the day when they went back to the house, his father and siblings got drunk and again showed their true colours. M recorded them and it is appalling. His sister, a bit of a drunk, sneering and spewing venom and hate for no other reason than this is her true self. His brother is a drunk and drug addict, so need I say more. His father, also a drunk is a spinless pathetic specimen human being. It was like watching a more hateful version of the witches in Macbeth.
Now, I have previously posted about them, which can be read here, and the way they treated M. So, 8 weeks passed and no one has contacted him, apart from a call from his father giving off that the aftershave that M bought for him had not arrived. In this call, his father never asked how he was doing, and would only demand that M do something about the lack of delivery. His father decided to text him today saying that he was lonely, which is ironic as he has all his family and friends there and is always Skyping M’s sister in America, and when M’s Mum needed help at home, his father could not get her into a nursing home fast enough. Nothing has changed for his father for over 4 years. M took the opportunity to confront his father about the complete lack of contact, the treatment he received before, during and after the funeral, and questioned if his Mum did not like him over the last 6 or so months as he knew that the sister had been poisoning her mind. His father answered with “well, she had a lot on her mind”. WTF! M told his father some home truths, that he heard them all slagging him off and that their treatment of him was out of order. His father gave a very feeble apology which I translated as him saying “I’m sorry if you feel that way”. I have no time for them as I have seen first hand how they have been with him and they hate me as I stand up for M, and will not take shit from them, oh, I am also English and Anglican, so double whammy there.
M’s sister has single-handedly turned everyone against him, for what reason or gain we do not know, but she has sewn lies to all that were concerned. She is self-obsessed and I have witnessed her viciousness that has no bounds and is done for her own amusement. She is the type of person to stop at an accident not to help but to gleefully watch the suffering of others, something she is actually well known for.
M has now cut ties with his family, removed their numbers from his phone along with WhatsApp and blocked them. I have had the measure of them for close to 20 years and M now sees them as I do. It is a sad thing that they have treated him so appallingly. I feel that M being gay is the main crux of their problem, but they are also jealous of his independent life. He is happy, does not live in a shit hole and is out of their control and interference, also he was the first one to get out of the country. His brothers youngest girl went to Liverpool Uni, got a degree and was set to have a career in TV/Media, but they forced her back to Northern Ireland for their own selfish reasons, that of a baby sitter and gain control over her life. Why should she be able to have her own life away from there?
I am saddened for M, as he does not now, or ever has deserved this type of treatment, and as mentioned has gone out of his way for them all and others, never complaining. However, I am glad that he is away from their poisonous prison. They have preyed on him, victimised him for their own unknown intentions. Whilst I have supported M trying to please them to no end, I have also told him what I see. I could never tell him to walk away as his Mum was still alive and they doted on each other, but now she is at rest I can and have, and he sees what I see.
I have experienced hate from my own father who is homophobic, racist, sexist and a truly vile man who thought with his fists and whom I have had no dealings with from the age of 15. I have seen my family turn against me because I was gay (lead by one of my sisters), which was their loss for a year or so. I have seen my sister envious of the life I have, a happy life with someone I truly love. I have been at the end of a campaign of sibling interference that failed. I have witnessed this and been at the harsh end of it, but due to my childhood I became hardened to it, gained the ability to switch off my emotions at the drop of a hat, but with that, I have anger issues and a temper that goes from zero to explosion instantly, and I am a fighter. M, however, is the opposite, he is not a fighter, he cannot switch off his emotions and as such his family have been like hungry vultures, picking away at him, feeding on his humanity until there is nothing left. Thankfully, he has now put a stop to them. He can now move on. It will be a long trek, but one that is worthwhile. With each step, he moves further away from his troubles, from people that are not worthy of his company, people that do not know what honour, charity or compassion means. Each day will take him on a journey of healing and the realisation that he is important, worthy of love and kindness, and that he is loved more than he will ever know.
The old saying of “this is the first day of the rest of your life”, although a clumsy cliche is very apt for him now, and as always, I will be at his side for the whole journey. My vows 12 years ago when we got married were “in sickness and health, through thick and thin until the end of days” and never more than now are they adhered to.
Today is Mazikeen’s 3rd Birthday. I cannot believe how fast the time has passed since we got her as a little puppy aged just 8 weeks. Since we always spoil our dogs on their birthday, and the others always get present too as they would not understand, off M and I went with the girls to the pet store to spend a fortune, then off for a walk. Both of them had a great day with all the treats and toys and are totally exhausted.
As most will know, I keep a few aquariums in the house. My large tank has African Cichlids in it. Quite a few of them go through the routine of the mating dance, but nothing happens. I have giraffe cichlids in there and the male had gone from brown to a lovely electric blue with a yellow stripe on his dorsal fin. He has mated twice with one female who unfortunately died after laying eggs (she keeps them in her mouth until hatched) due to a swim bladder problem, however, one baby survived being eaten by the other fish and is getting quite big, he was from her first clutch. The other female mated with him and for the last 30 days she has not eaten and I know that she had the eggs/fry in her mouth. Two days ago she seemed to look like she was listing to one side, so I put her in the breeding net to watch her. This afternoon I check in on her and saw that the breeding net was full of baby fry. Most in the bottom away from her, not that she would eat them. I quickly get her out and into the main tank and fed her as she needed sustenance. She and the male keep looking in on their fry, but all seems well with her and the babies.
I took a quick video of the fry in their temporary home and thought I would share them with you all. I am amazed at how many fry there are, I estimate about 60, although she could have had as many as 100+. For a sense of scale, they are about 2mm long and the video is taken through the side of the tank, but as they get bigger I will record from above.
I thought I would make J a baby blanket for his new baby. I seem to make all their family new borns blankets. It was nothing out of this world just a Rico Pompon blanket. Originally I had bought two balls of yarn as that is all I used on the last one, but the band said I would need three. I presumed that the yarn was shorter, so sent for another one, but in the end, only used two. I now have a ball spare, but I am sure it will come in handy one day. I popped into my local yarn shop as she sells material among other crafting items and found a lovely blue ribbon with “It’s A Boy” on it, which I feel has finished it nicely as a gift.