Parties of tat...

I think I shall try and write a cheery blog as the last few have been a bit sad or indeed a harsh insight into my insecurities and mental fuck-ups. Lets go for a little light heartedness, shall we?

I got invited to a Jewellery party at Pamela's from number 35 and it all happened last Thursday. I was quite looking forward to it and imagined I would purchase a key piece of tasteful and simple silver. WRONG. Pamela is a lovely lady who I met on the trick or treating night out and I was touched she invited me. I went over, fashionably late, armed with a rather tasty bottle of Sauvignon Blanc (on special in Asda, shhhh!) and Pamela looked at me as if I had presented me with a bottle of Colombian virgin's blood. Do people in Scotland not arrive with a little something for the host? Once that was out the way we went into the living room. I was the last to arrive and a hush fell. I recognised a mum from the nursery who always ignores me, but as I was so pleased to see a familiar face I said 'Hello' to her in the most over animated fashion. Almost children's TV league. I then searched for somewhere to sit and one of the ladies selling the jewellery offered me her seat, which I took.

In the corner of the room was a trestle table covered in boxes and displays of the items on sale. Even from a distance I could tell it was cheap and awful and lo and behold, at close range it was just as revolting. However, I was clearly the only one that thought this. They were buying whacks of the stuff. I panicked. Was it me? Had missed all the good stuff. Each woman had three or four pieces as I struggled to find one thing I would immediately throw in the bin. Plus this stuff was not cheap. I wish I had the balls to not have bought anything, but in a desperate bid to fit in I found a bracelet that was quite nice and something Mum would like. It was literally the one nice piece. The type of stuff on sale was brooches in the shape of 'elegant hands' or musical notes, covered in diamante. God, it was just the worst costume jewellery. Who makes this stuff? My contribution to the evening was a fiver. The other ladies were spending about twenty pounds. I thought about spending more and then thought, no. This is shit. I did have a bit of a chat and Pamela, who wasn't actually selling it, just hosting, is a really nice lady and easy to talk to.

I also got speaking to Julie who is mother to triplet girls, who live opposite. Julie and her husband had IVF and whilst only two embryo's were planted, one split. She was very funny and down to earth and we had a laugh about the joys of having multiples and exchanged stories of children escaping and pooing their pants. I told her to knock anytime. It's hard making friends when you have none, as I always feel I sound a tad desperate and slightly high pitched. Plus I don't think anyone actually could like me. Especially up here. I worry they all think I'm a stuck up southerner. I don't think I do anything that would make them think this, other than having a sticker on my car that reads 'Scotland is shite.'

I don't seem to having any luck at posting photo's on here, but there are some recent ones on the flickr website. The latest are of a rather windy afternoon at the beach. I forget how close to the coast we are sometimes. Whilst it looks as cold as cold can be, it is rather a nice beach. I think it can be busy in the summer. I have no desire to go swimming but look forward to a few beach picnics.

Is anyone else watching 'I'm a celebrity...'? I'm loving most of the celebs, but George Hamiliton is hilarious. Who knew? The only person I REALLY dislike is Joe Bugner. He's scares me. A very odd man.

It's been another lovely week here in Kintore. We've missed the floods, luckily and had a few days of cold and sunshine. I hope you are all well and happy.

Love

Sally

xxx

Dear Dad

I really can't believe it's been six years since you passed away. It's just gone so quick. I want you to know that you are never far from my thoughts. Everyday I will do or think something and wonder what you would think or if it would make you laugh.

I really am sad that you have not be here to be part of some of the life changing events that have happened since you passed. My greatest sadness is that you never got to see Ben and Sam. Dad, you would have truly adored them. You'd be so proud of how much they love trains. I think I may have ever so slightly influenced that! They are now at an age where they would have happily come with you to stations or railway sidings and listened as you explained which train was which and where they were off to. Mum, Alice and I often laugh at how you would take us to the railway line in Reading, which we would walk over looking out for the Intercity 125's. What were you thinking???!! No doubt the line is now behind some 8ft high barbed wire fence. Ben loves Thomas the tank Engine so much and there is a programme called Chuggingtons, which is all about young trains learning things. They just love it. I can see you sitting with them and watching it. They love the display case of model trains on the wall in your house. Although have shed a tear when we've told them they can't touch. They know who you are. They often look at your photo on the wall and call you 'Dad-dat'. They couldn't say Grandad. Sam is a budding photographer. He would have loved all your camera's and shown such interest in the 1000's of photo's you took.

They are both real characters and have my petulance in them. You would laugh at what they put me through and I know be proud of them. I still can be a petulant teenager. I remember you calling me that and us both laughing. Obviously not at the time as I was too busy being petulant. I really am sorry we clashed so much in my late teens. I was just being an arse. I always loved you, even during the rows.

You really were a kind father. Not perfect, but then I think you'd be the first to admit that. You were so keen to share holidays and trips and memories with us. I look back at the holidays we had growing up as some of the very best moments of my life. I loved our trips to the lake district. We always had the best laugh. Jokes that Alice, Mum and I still do. I remember eating in the hotel restaurant and then going for a walk along the canal every night. I also remember the excitement you had in taking us all to the USA. It was so lovely that you'd loved the US so much on a business trip that you came back and booked up for us all to go. I remember how much you wanted us to go to Disneyland as you'd really enjoyed it there. I can still see the photo's of you and your business colleagues there. How out of place did you all look?! You took us and knew where to eat and what bits to do first. It was just magical.

I hope you know I am happy with John. We've both been through a lot and we did have a terrible separation, but things are good now. He is sorry and I accept that. He never had the lovely family that you and mum gave us and I desperately want him to have it. I'm not trying to copy what we had, I just want him to feel the love we all had. How we were such a strong unit, that we were often oblivious to the outside world and that we loved each other no matter what. I think he's starting to feel that love. You'd dislike his mother. I do. Just know we're ok and in love and I'm taking each day as it comes. If we love each other half as much as you and mum do, then we're ok.

I'm glad you saw me with John before you died. I know you worried about Alice and I being terminally single. I remember on a day trip to France you asking us, why we were alone... I never knew you thought about it. Alice is happy too. I hope Jean marries her. I know it's what she would love.

Mum is ok. I do try and be there for her all the time. I'm sorry we had to move so far away. I'd love her to come and live up here. Maybe she'll come up for a bit in the new year. She cries for you all the time. I'd do anything to take her pain away but I can't. Deep down, I know she's just waiting til you are together again. I am so scared of loosing her, but I will take strength in knowing she is safe with you and happy again. Laughing, talking and the odd row, because lets face it, you two had some real humdingers!

Oh Dad, if I had a wish, it would be that you were here. But you're not. You mean so much to me and taught me more than you will ever ever know. You are the bravest man, the kindest man and you showed me, Alice and Mum limitless love. You taught me how to love and how to be loved.

I love you so much. Wherever you are.....

Sally (Dogbreath)

xxxx

'Holidays are coming....'

The Christmas Coke advert has begun playing. This always signifies the start of Christmas getting closer and reminds me so very much of my Dad. He loved this advert and the Father Christmas on the back of the lorry that would wink at the end. This year I don't think they show that final piece. He would always sing the words and laugh at his own hilarity. Dad always seemed to let his beard grow a bit more around this time of year and so he would strike a rather uncanny resemblance to Father Christmas. Nobody ever mentioned it. It just happened.

In two days it will be the anniversary of his death. It's been six years and I miss him more than ever. Sometimes I have moments of almost a panic attack where I actually cannot comprehend him not being here. I loose my breath and my heart beats faster. It happens more and more. I also cry so much for my Mum. I cannot begin to imagine what it is like for her.

I still remember vividly the morning of his death. Of Alice, Mum and myself standing around his bed, all holding his hands and him taking his last gasps of air. Alice and I told him we loved him and my mum said 'Just go to the light....I will be with you soon.' I can still hear her saying it. We were all so calm. There was no crying or wailing, or 'Don't die.' We just knew his time to go had come and so we tried to strong and say goodbye. Then he just went still and he had passed.

I so hope and try to believe there is something after life. I always have but recently I have started to think, this is it. When we die we are no more. Forever. Which is rather a long time. I'm struggling with my faith a bit. I have always believed in God. Now I'm not so sure and it's not for any particular reason other than me being overly rational. Truth is, does it matter. I should just believe in what ever helps me. My Mum has really turned to the Church since Dad died. Not in an overbearing, God is great way. It's very personal to her and she's never pushed Alice or I in anyway to do the same. I love that it has got her through such a difficult time. Not only has the spirituality helped her, but she has made contact with people and whilst I wouldn't call it a 'social life' she does have friends there.

Last weekend she was confirmed at St Paul's Cathedral. It was a lovely ceremony and in total 86 people were also confirmed. I could see how much it meant to her to make this commitment to God. It was also in such an amazing building. You couldn't help but feel spiritual. After wards we went for lunch. Alice, Jean-Francois, Ben, Sam and Mum's friend Elizabeth were also with us. Mum then told us that the reason she had finally taken confirmation was because I had forgiven John and fought for my family and that if I could do that then she could forgive all the upset in her life and forge a relationship with Christianity. It was a very humbling moment for me. I never really saw it in that way. I suppose I did fight for us to be a family, but only because I couldn't comprehend the alternative. I often have seen getting back with John as a weakness on my part, but her saying what she said, has finally made me see my forgiving as a strength, and not a weakness.

I'll sign off wishing you all lots of love. It's a grey day here, for a change.

With all my love

Sally

xxx

p.s. Xanna, any more pictures of ladies night? xxxx

Avon calling...

The Avon stuff arrived twenty minutes ago. I'm too excited to write. x

My weight

Since my diabetes was diagnosed and I've started injecting insulin (I almost wrote heroin for some reason) I have put back on some of the weight I lost. The loss of weight and the speed at which it happened was due to my pancreas not making insulin and my body not converting the energy in the food. I was basically urinating sugar and so no weight was gained and indeed I began to shed it. Oh those lovely days of just eating what I wanted and as much as I wanted. It made the constant thirst, constant weeing, exhaustion and thrush from hell almost bearable. Actually it was awful, but I wore skinny jeans for the first time in a long time.

I got down to eleven stone and a size 12. This was great, but I still wanted to loose more weight. I have always wanted to loose another half a stone. I am never happy. I wonder if I would be like this if I got down to something silly (for me) like seven stone. When I have been at my thinnest, which is usually through tragic heartbreak or even the time I was bulimic, I still look in the mirror and see a fat person. I was talking to a friend about my body dis morphia the other day and she described me looking 'thin' in some photo's. I never see this. I also talked to John about wanting to be happy with the way my body is. I like my clothes, I more than often am pleased with how I look in my clothes, but I always have in my mind that the way I look will be temporary. An example of this is I would love a pair of 'designer jeans'. I wear jeans all the time and would love to splash out on a pair by 7 for all mankind or similar, but I never ever do because I say 'I want to get them when I've lost some weight'. Why not just get them now and be happy? Why always feel so fat?

I talked to John about something that happened to me when I was about ten or eleven. To this day I think about it often, vividly and it always makes me cry. I think John is actually the first person I've talked to about it. I was walking along past the shops in South End Green (now Starbucks and Blue Daisy) and outside the then cinema was a queue of people, mostly kids, waiting to see a film. One of the boys shouted over at me, in the loudest voice 'Oi Sally, you fat shit.' I was absolutely mortified (I'm crying again) and really hoped my Dad hadn't heard and by some miracle he hadn't, because a lot of people had. The children in the queue all laughed and I just wanted to curl up and die. This boy is someone we all know from school.

He was actually quite popular and a hit with the girls. I spent all of our time at Hampstead avoiding him at all costs. There were times when we were at the same parties and gatherings but I don't think I actually spoke to him until we left school and were in our twenties and to be honest he seemed ok. We were even friends on Facebook, but I removed him as we were never friends in real life and he hardly used the site. I think this incident has had more of an effect on me than I've realised. It still is very fresh despite happening 25 years ago and I never have spoken of it (at least I don't think I have, you will know if it's something I shared). I know it was a throwaway comment and a young lad trying to impress his friends, but to be honest I don't think he'd be sorry if I told him what he did or indeed I doubt he'd remember.

So I really do want to try and just be happy with me and my body. I love how Gok Wan makes the women on how to look good naked love their bodies and shows them how well they can dress. I really want to be like that. I suppose the first hurdle is recognising I have a problem and hopefully I will deal with it.

Love to you all

S

x