The Wizard in Oz

My guess is the guilt I felt at not saying we would have A sooner manifested in to a bit of an obsession to have the absolute best for her.

This baby was getting no hand me downs, she would not lay in a second hand cot or pram. It was a little like the first baby syndrome, I even considered towelling nappies!, Mama's & Papa's were a little in love with me. My boss's very generously offered to buy the pram, I found a top of the range model which was half price as it was a line that was to be discontinued, with this in mind I bought all the trappings that went with it. This pram lark was nothing like it was in my day, it had car seats you could clip in to it, it was good for off road, ffs I was only going to be walking in to town! It was very complicated, if any CCTV was trained on me in the supermarket car park one afternoon trying to get the pram down would have been in tears of laughter, I however were in tears of frustration, I hadn't a bloody clue.

All the paraphernalia of a new baby were not the only acquisitions that were made, there was a whole new lot of people that came with it, A's father's family. Early on there had been a Jeremy Kyle style DNA test to confirm A's parentage which I understood, once that had been established arrangements were made, initially at my house for Nana G to visit on a Wednesday afternoon and this continues today with Nana G collecting her every week. They have lovely relationship and get equal pleasure from one another, which is lovely to see. Nana G and I share an understanding of being the mother of an addict.

The other significant person is A's family is auntie D in Australia, you may remember she considered putting herself forward for having A. Although this lady lives at the other side of the world she very much orchestrates things within her family, and rules the roost from many miles away, she is the peacemaker and the one that who's opinion is respected by the rest of her family. She weaves her magic across the miles keeping everyone in check.

Auntie D and I talk often and we both talk a lot! A has a double whammy in the "talking a lot" gene pool and it is very apparent already, A never shuts up. I like this lady immensely, we can talk on many levels, have spookily many interests in common, have intelligent conversations, we share many opinions and have very similar views and values, she's a good laugh and she is just a little on the right side of mad. In my minds eye when I think of auntie D she is dancing around, full of fun. She and her two boy's A's cousins came to the UK last year, I was so excited to see her after all the years of chatting on the phone and Skype and I wasn't disappointed, we got on like a house on fire. We spent a lot of her trip here together the cousins getting to know one another, and a memorably crap day in Blackpool, it was Blackpool itself that was crap not the company.

The baby bits and pieces have come and gone and I for one am happy to have this family as part of A's life and mine, am glad that both the girls are surrounded and influenced by strong, ballsy, funny, warm and caring women on both sides of their family, and am glad that they both know to whom they belong.


Sha X

Sackcloth & Ashes

At times I feel a little ashamed, sometimes life changing decisions takes longer to make and looking back it should and could have been made sooner.

When I found out my daughter was pregnant for the second time I was aghast and horrified at how irresponsible she could be knowing full well this baby would be taken from her as soon as it was born. I also got that in some base way my daughter was trying to replace what she had lost without thinking about the consequences and that addicts don't make responsible decisions or think of consequences.

The day A came in to this world I was at her birth, this tiny thing with a surly look. It was heartbreaking to watch my daughter go through labour in the knowledge this baby would never be with her. Social Services were involved from the start and had asked with no pressure if I or any other member of the family would put themselves forward for taking her. Whilst my daughter was pregnant I sort of put it to the back of my mind that there will be a little life to consider, A's arrival meant it was real and decisions on her and where her future lay had to be made.

My husband and I discussed what to do long and hard, my sister considered putting herself forward as did A's fathers sister who lived in Australia.

My head was in turmoil, I needed space, time to think, what was best for A, best for T and whether I could or wanted to do this all again, and I was fucking angry, very angry at my daughter for putting us in this position. This is the bit I am ashamed of I backed away. A was placed with a foster carer until it was decided what was happening to her, a family member coming forward or adoption.

No "It's a Girl, Congratulations" announcements in the local paper for this little girl. No masses of presents and cards that usually accompany the arrival of a new addition to the family and it felt so wrong and horrible. We weren't the caretakers of her so everything is diluted and any contact is with an official presence. I visited A a couple of times at the foster carers, a woman I didn't much care for, she was very new to it, judgemental and naive, she believed the right place for A was to be with her mother and did things well out of her remit based on this opinion.

Nipping in to town to pick up some bits and bobs, a glorious spring day, sat on a bench was a woman with a pram, it was the foster carer with A, I wanted slope off hoping I hadn't been seen but that's not me, I usually confront things head on and did so on this occasion. I sat next to her on the bench and asked if I could hold A, I looked deep in to her eyes, the rush of love for her immense and knew in an instant, what the hell was I pissing about at, she needed to be where she belonged, with her family and her sister. A was a month old.

The wheels were put in to motion, Social Services informed of our wishes, it would take up to a year for her to eventually get to be with us permanently, paperwork, court appearances, solicitors, reports and vetting of us. Like hell!!!!!!  I am a force to be reckoned with when I need to be, this baby needed to be home with us, she was with us for good three months later.


Sha X

This Old House

Periodically my husband vocalises that we need sell the "noose" around his neck, our home.

We took full advantage of the then conservative governments incentive and bought our council home at a substantially reduced rate. We went on to buy a brand new house on a new development in a part exchange scheme. It was like a dream home. Hindsight is wonderful thing, having remortgaged on a few occasions to shore up our business, consolidate debts and home improvements, we now realise how foolish and short sighted this was. What now would have been a small monthly mortgage payment has turned in to an amount. that at our time of life, we shouldn't have to be working like idiots keep the roof over our head.

The mere mention of selling our home makes me do two things, I do an ostrich firstly and then I view my house with new eyes, from the perspective of a new buyer. There is a great deal in my house that is unfinished, some cosmetic some that are jobs that husband either has the time and no money or vice versa. I ask why he doesn't get someone in but think it dents the male ego somewhat as he truly believes he can do it better. The newly installed bathroom of two years is awaiting a blind at the window, having to lean my arse against the dishwasher for it to complete its cycle very annoying, the tiling in last years newly installed kitchen still unfinished, having to open the fridge door in the garage for light drives me mad, the garden looks at its best when covered in snow and don't get me started about the rearranged higgledy piggledy wardrobes to accommodate a larger bed as husband is tall.

My mind then wanders to our home that has had two children leave from it, has become home to two beautiful girls, home to two adorable black Labradors. A home that has been flooded, has had many many visitors, some for a short while others a bolt hole for however long, parties, meals with friends, many occasions celebrated. It has seen tears shed and lots and lots of laughter. I love my home the people in it and the people that stop by.

The logical part of me says its just bricks and mortar, whilst my illogical part and heart chooses to bury my head in the sand.

Sha X

Something About Mary

I had no need to ever see the family again, the Shameless, scene a horrible memory of an horrible day. It did cross my mind what on earth they made of that meeting but reckoning we wouldn't be having much contact I put it to the back of my mind.

T was placed in to my care in November, it all happened very quickly, on my way to an appointment for work I received a call from Social Services, they were going to court that afternoon to remove T from my daughters care and could I be there to attend and then take T home with me. Part of me felt like I was betraying my daughter in the worst way possible but Ts well being and safety was paramount, this was the way it had to be. It was Hobsons choice.

Any contact with Ts dads family was done through my daughter whilst she had T, I now had the responsibility of either maintaining this contact or not. With both the girls I feel very strongly that they know where they come from, they know the other side of their families not just on the maternal side. It to me is very important these relationships are kept up and nurtured, they have been dealt a crappy hand in one respect so these links to decent, honest influences of other family members should be encouraged, its part of who they are and who they belong to.

With this at the forefront of my mind when Mary and dad wanted to keep in contact with T it was my duty to facilitate this. Meeting up was something that had to be done. As they lived in London at that time the visits meant an overnight stay, which for me was not a problem and over time Mary and I got to know one another, she is one of the most generous people of heart I have ever met. She will help out with material things where ever she can. Initially she seemed a timid kind of woman, I have learnt that she has a very wicked sense of humour, her MO disarm with charm. We are both mother hens, Mary the gentle clucky one, me the loud boisterous, sweary one (if you can imagine a hen swearing). There is something about Mary that you can't not like and she can drink me under the table.

An evening out on one of Mary's visits, my brother asked her what she would like from the bar, "Oh I don't drink much, but oh go on I will have a brandy with you" she had 10 of them!. From then on in she was affectionately known as "Mary that doesn't drink".

Sha X

Mary That Doesn't Drink

Today I am expecting visitors, they are now part and parcel of our family. Life is sometimes strange how you acquire people along the way that come to play a necessary part in your life.

Our first meeting was an inauspicious one.

When T was two, my daughter decided she would like to take her to London for a few days to stay with T's fathers family, it was the weekend of Mothers Day and I took them both to the train station, made sure they were safely on the train and waved them off. I hadn't met the family but had spoken on the phone to Mary a few times, she was softly spoken and had a lovely Irish lilt, she came across as a very warm caring kind of person.

My daughter called on the day she and T were due to come home to say she was going to extend her stay a little longer, I wasn't sure I was happy about this, a weekend away in a family home was one thing, I was now worried she had gotten a taste for it again.  My daughter had spent a few years in London and it wasn't the best place for her to be whilst trying to stay clean, too many demons. It is hard to trust someone who has been an addict, they are strangers to the truth, but you also have to at times, she was staying with T fathers family and they seemed nice enough.

I made numerous calls that week to speak to my daughter, this was always met with she is out with friends, I became suspicious and although T couldn't yet speak very much asked to speak to her. I immediately knew all was not well, further questioning Mary she told me my daughter had gone out to see friends and hadn't come back, she had been gone for three days. Mary assured me they were looking after T very well, I didn't dispute this but T had never met these people in her life, she had been left with complete strangers.

My husband and I drove to London with what I hoped was a correct address. We found the house but there was no answer, sitting in the car wondering what the hell to do I spotted a lady walking down the street with a buggy, it was T!!! She couldn't get out of her buggy fast enough and jumped into our car. We were asked in for a cup of tea and on a sofa in the dining room was my daughter, looking like a heap of dirty washing, she had come back that morning and was tired. She woke up on hearing my voice, she was disorientated and a little wired, she instantly became aggressive squaring up to me nose to nose screaming abuse, we were trying to take her daughter from her she yelled. I stood there stock still and calm, I wanted to punch her.

She had though pushed my husbands buttons just too far, he lost his temper, and reacted by dragging her out of the house, an action he was not very proud of. This whole scenario was not pretty and thankfully not witnessed by T. We had come to someones house we had never met and it was like an episode of Shameless. We then bizarrely sat down and had a cup of tea.

Mary had been trying to cover for my daughter, not in a bad way, that's not her style, the visit had not gone the way she envisaged at all, on arriving in London my daughter had seen this as an opportunity to visit old haunts knowing full well Mary would look after T. Mary is the kind of person that see's the best in everyone, she thought it would all turn out ok. A least said soonest mended approach. Me on the other hand knows what my daughter is capable of and listens very carefully to my gut instinct.

How Mary got her title, well that is another post.


Sha X

Starting Over (Final Flood Story)

We settled in to the flood house our temporary residence, my husband and I, son and Jazz the Labrador The fact that our landlord allowed dogs was a key reason for choosing this house and that we could get to work and school. My only reason for hating this house is that it wasn't my home or my choice to be there

Our home had to be dried out with huge industrial dryers before any work could be done, as it was November this process took weeks. After that the next stage would be to strip off the plaster to the breeze block and start again. There were army's of builders all over the estate, Portakabins set up on the field near our house. We heard of many stories of how some of the builders were doing half a job, just taking off the bottom bit of the plaster, my husband felt very strongly that he wasn't having any of that.

We would go to the house at weekends to see what progress had been made, and would always find hoards of workmen milling around. One particular day two men were stood in our front room, they wanted a word with my husband. My husband not letting either man speak went in to a tirade of how he would not tolerate them doing half a job on the walls, both men kept impassive faces, but in their eyes I could see they were thinking this man is a complete nutter. When they finally did get to say something I actually did pee myself laughing "We're here to take up the carpets mate".

You would think that having the chance to have all new things would be fantastic, the insurance company were faultless, they just sorted everything out regarding payment but spending weekends trying pick things for the whole of the downstairs of your house with deadlines and calls from builders, where did we want sockets, did we want wall lighting as they are on with the wiring now, which doors do you want, kitchen, tiles.work surfaces, having to make decisions quickly is far from fun. It was nice to be able to make some tweaks here and there to the original house things that made your house a little bit individual.


We missed our neighbours a lot, they had all been scattered where ever they could find a property to rent. We agreed to meet up once a month a meal out or at the flood house. On weekends when we would be at our houses, someone, usually me, would bring bacon butties and flasks of tea as it was bloody freezing. We all understood how we felt, the sense of loss, displacement and frustrations of getting back to normal. Other people think your flooded one day and back in your home within a day or two. We lived in the flood house for 6 months. Moving back in Easter, the time for new beginnings.

In the summer of that year we organised a welcome home party, everyone really got in to spirit of it, the whole estate contributed something, it was on the lines of the Silver Jubilee, we invited the firemen and rescuer's from the night of the flood and it absolutely pissed it down. It didn't put a dampener on our celebrations, we danced and drank long in to the night, rejoicing the fact that we were all home.

Help Me lady declined to attend.

Sha X

The Ego has Landed (flood story continued)

It surprised me the amount of media attention garnered after the flood, it was constant and a little overwhelming and at times I'll admit quite flattering. In the words of Andy Warhol everyone has there fifteen minutes of fame.

The feeling in the village after the flood was one of shock which quite quickly turned in to anger, people wanted reassurance that this could never happen again. Rumours of insurance companies not paying out and that we would not be insured in the future. Were we sold out to protect the main town.

A committee was set up and I was appointed Chairperson, I knew nothing about committee's but felt strongly that we had certain objectives to achieve to help the home owners. A meeting was set up in the local bingo hall, one of the  residents was a manager there so it would be free, the local MP agreed to attend and do a speech. Nearly 2,000 people attended this meeting, this reinforced the need for the committee to fight on these peoples behalf's.

As Chair, the media were never off my phone. I was quoted incorrectly in the Independent, was asked to do a radio interview with Farmers Weekly, being born and bred in a city I laughed like a drain at that one. Calendar the Yorkshire TV news channel wanted interviews as did local papers. I refused to be filmed in wellies and a crappy coat with a suitably down turned mouth for a national news station. Panorama wanted me to do a home cam thing reporting on life day to day post the flood. Prince Charles visited our homes which provoked further media attention.

The media world is a fickle one I quickly learned and I didn't really like it, we asked a member of the committee who would be happy to step forward. Help Me lady put herself forward to be media spokesperson. This for a while worked quite well she seemed to be able to handle it whilst I worked in the background writing speeches for her to read at various meetings with people of note.

Help Me lady agreed to do the Panorama programme also, they had side stepped me because I wasn't emotional enough, I was told this, and Help Me lady could muster tears like a true pro. I often said I am not a victim, I am an ordinary person who happens to be in extraordinary circumstances. Help me lady didn't hold much truck with this sentiment. It got to the point where I imagined her preparing a beaming smile or tears whichever were required on the opening of her fridge door.

Over the months to come the committee worked hard to achieve our objectives. We were all quite amazed how our Media Spokesperson relished in her role but she over stepped the mark big time when we all found out her and her husband had enjoyed a freebie weekend away to do a speech we knew nothing about. She was becoming a bit of a loose cannon and couldn't be reigned in.

The committee did achieve what we set out to do quietly and unassumingly. A lesson  learned was that you can never underestimate how someone will react when the spotlight of fame lands on them, Help Me lady taught me that very well.


Sha X

Rising from the Ashes of Phoenix

It is a week today since we were bringing mum home to die, or in doctors speak, make her comfortable.

After consultant spoke to mum he had decided on a more pro-active course in the care of mum, whilst this was good news and I was pleased she had got to express her wishes, she was the consultants patient and could now quite clearly state them, the onus was not on us her kids to make decisions for her, a relief of that burden.

I however have had a struggle with coming to terms with the fact that having being sat down and told on three occasions and had it reiterated in a telephone call by the consultant that she was dying, that we now may have a Lourdes moment and everything just might be ok.

When I was a kid we had a goldfish that was dying, mum in her wisdom filled the bath with cold water put a drop of brandy in the water and the goldfish. We watched as it swam around the bath like something on speed and then promptly died. It is a strange analogy I know but I didn't trust what was being said any more, in my head now was my mum was rallying to give us closure, time to talk and would then off her pop. The family content in the fact we got to speak with her.

I also felt a bit like a fraud at least, or was I actually going out of my mind, at worst, questions of "Hows your mum" head tilted suitably by questioner. I hadn't got my head around this at all, had I imagined she was really that ill, misread the consultants words, so the stock answer of "just the same" covered that one.

Having a week to digest this and seeing daily improvements in mum, they are planning on taking the feeding tube out tomorrow and taking her off the oxygen mask, the nurses commenting on what a wonderful sense of humour mum has. I am starting to trust she is getting better so wanted to now share that news.

Unfortunately I am full of cold so can't visit her, God forbid I gave her any germs to hamper her progress, but I am feeling a little more content that mum will be back home with her beloved cat Poppy and texting me rude and inappropriate jokes.

Mum you are one strong old bird.

Sha X

The Flood House

Stood in the village feeling totally displaced, we were very relieved to see my friend pull up. We could stay at her house for as long as we needed.

Other people were having to go to the local leisure centre and schools if they had nowhere else to go. I have seen news items before, where there has been for whatever reason people having to do this, I have thought poor buggers, not giving a minutes thought to what happens next.

It is difficult to explain how it feels to be homeless, for a week or so we were aimless and in shock, we more or less sat in my friends listening to the news and weather reports obsessively. The area of flooding was the size of Windemere in the Lake District, this made any journey of normality very difficult, school and work, not an option. We weren't allowed back in our home, the area was policed, it was too dangerous as they were considering blowing the river bank if needed, to protect the main towns homes and businesses. If the banks were broken the 2ft of water would rise to ceiling height. In my home on a downstairs wall I had a gallery of family photographs, one of my dad when he was aged 15 was pride of place. I had to use all my powers of persuasion on one of the policemen to allow me back in my home to retrieve these photographs, sod the furniture, these things were very precious.

The process of trying to put life in some sort of order needed to begin, insurance company was contacted, we needed to find somewhere to live. As the area of flooding was so large trying to find a rental property was like finding rocking horse shit. We came upon one in an unusual way, the local council had set up a website for people to donate things to the people who had been flooded, the offers ranged from a room or furniture, amongst all of these things was someone offering a house rental, it was a four bed and on the right side of the river. We arranged to see it and agreed to do a private let with the owner.

The house was lovely, I nicknamed it the Flood House and I hated it.


Sha X

November Rain

An early November morning, the sky was the brightest blue, it was eerily quiet, apart from a distant sound of someone calling Help Me.

The calling woke my husband and I up, confused we got up, hoping to locate the source of this strange sound, nothing could have prepared us for what we saw looking out of the window, we were completely surrounded by water as far as the eye could see. The cry's of help totally jarred against the stillness and almost ethereal picture before our eyes.

The previous evening all of our street was outside, police were going around to tell us to either vacate our property or to at least move belongings higher. I asked the policeman did he really think we were going to be flooded? In his opinion, no he didn't, they were taking precautionary action.

At that time all of our neighbours were not just neighbours we were friends too, we had all moved in around the same time as it was a new development, we socialised together, had bbqs, bonfire night parties, even some Christmas's together. It was lovely social time in our lives I sometimes felt like we were on permanent holiday.

Practicality set in very quickly, there was no mobile phone signal, husband went downstairs to investigate to be greeted with 2ft of rank freezing cold water. How the hell were we going to get out, how far did this water stretch and where would we go. We then heard men,s voices and a dinghy boat. They instructed us to put the house key on something to lower down to them from the bedroom window to enable them to get in. They then gave us dry suits to put on, mine looked very fetching given that it's purpose was for a 6 footer and I am 4ft 11. On coming downstairs I couldn't believe the damage and devastation. We had packed a suitcase and with son and dog were assisted in to the boat. I remember our rescuers hands were blue from the cold, a look of exhaustion on their faces, they had been working tirelessly through the night to rescue people.

The cries for help were another neighbour in complete shock. We were taken to higher ground in the village, it was like something out of a movie, every news channel had a van with a satellite dish on top, there were hundreds of people milling around, the army, police and a chinook in the air.

What the hell happened and what do we do now running through my head.


Sha X

Order versus Chaos

A personality trait of mine is to be a bit of a control freak but I can assure you this doesn't go hand in hand with being organised.

This year is a big year on two counts. Its our 25th Wedding Anniversary in November (no-one more surprised at this than me and my husband) and its also my 50th birthday in December. We, or should that be, I, decided these events needed to be marked by a big joint celebration.

We chose the 29th of November to get married as this was the date of our first meeting. How romantic, but romance goes out of the window when you are skint and Christmas is just around the corner. Our being skint was to the point of not having a pot to pee in, no huge wedding budget for us. One concession, I had secretly  ordered a lovely cream ballerina length wedding dress, my husband thought I was wearing a suit I had recently bought. The guests consisted of my mum & dad and a lovely surprise arrival of my husbands brother. We had no wedding car, the couple who went in to the register office after us looked on worriedly as we "borrowed" their flower and ribbon bedecked car for a photograph, The reception was a quick drink in a local hotel where some other family members and friends joined us in their lunch hour. The honeymoon was a budget weekend with a show in London.

On the basis of this in January this year I decided I would be extremely organised, this is very unlike me as I am always last minute for everything, so started doing a guest list, we have a very large extended family and over 25 years have acquired many friends, the guest list reached around 150 people. This then led on to researching a local venue that could accommodate that amount. At this point I'm ashamed to admit I turned in to a retrospective Bridezilla. Venue found it would be adorned in drapes and mood lighting, tables and chairs would be dressed, Entertainment of DJ and a magician going around the guests tables. Two local caterers had come up with spectacular menu's. Invites were sent and links to hotels and B&Bs for guests needing an overnight stay. I booked the lot, all done and dusted. This was going to be the mother of all parties.

Here we are coming to the end of September and I really need to make a decision quite quickly. The fact that my husband hasn't been in work since January, an unusual state of affairs, and that he has also applied for the Australia contract of which we are still waiting to hear about. We are not only as skint as we were all those years ago, Christmas is again around the corner, being in total limbo as to whether he will even be here. So do I cancel or pare everything down to a more affordable level in the hope he will be here, or just postpone it. I have come to the conclusion there is no merit in being "that" organised as it will now probably cause chaos.

As the saying goes "There is no show without Punch".


Sha X

It ain't Over Until the Fat Lady Sings

To say this last two weeks has been a roller coaster of emotions is somewhat of an understatement!

My mother when young used to be on the stage quite a lot, she was a great singer and I have many memories of her getting up to belt out a tune. At a caravan park when we were all little, I think dad was a bit strapped for cash, there was a singing competition which he encouraged mum to enter as the prize was cash. Dad was glad we enjoyed the rest of the week with extra funds. She would often sing "As Long as He Needs Me" to my dad. Wherever there was a stage and a microphone "Give us a song Mary" would be shouted. After today I think I shall add dramatic or maybe comedic timing to her repertoire.

Frantically trying to get hold of our GP of over 25 years yesterday to ask if it would be feasible to bring mum home and make her as comfortable as possible for the time she had left. We felt we needed to act quickly we didn't have the luxury of time. Our GP agreed that it was possible but I would need to speak to the hospital Consultant to see if in his opinion mum was up to the journey. The Consultant had rung me on Tuesday to reiterate mums condition and had agreed to call me again today as he is going away to France for a week, he would update me on mum and discuss as to whether he would agree to mum being moved.

My sister and I went in to see mum, said hello to her and mum started to pull the oxygen mask off her face, me and my sister exchanged wtf, she's throwing in the towel, looks. I asked mum what she was doing and she said "I want to talk". We talked about where she would like to go, Las Vegas, Graceland, Empire State Building if there was any chance of seeing Cary Grant there and County Mayo where here mum was from, but, said mum she couldn't go yet as she was a little tired. Her head was all there! We were told she may have suffered some damage to her brain. During a lull when mum was sleeping, I had a lovely conversation with the lady in the opposite bed "Did I know it is very common to suffer a hernia whilst having a crap" Thank you for sharing this, I wouldn't have slept at night without this knowledge.

The Consultant rang me again today, he had had a long conversation with mum, she told him she had her kids and grand kids and lots still to do, so she would want resuscitating if the need arose, he questioned me as the vadility of her talking about her grandson in Peru, yes I confirmed, she has got a grandson in Peru. The upshot of the call was the consultant has reassessed her care, instead of pallitive care it would now be pro-active.

The timing for mum deciding to kick arse couldn't have been more crucial. We know she has a huge battle on her hands. My sister, brothers and I, whilst in a complete spin emotionally, at least now know she's going to give it her best shot.

Fill your boots mum!


Sha X

Nora Lives On

When I first joined twitter I did what I think most people do, I dipped in didn't get it and dipped out again, I then made another tentative step back in and followed famous people I liked and was interested in.

This proved to be a total twitter downfall, they don't interact or respond on the whole to anything or anyone. Twitter eluded me I was not really sure who to talk to and do you really follow random people? This was nothing like Facebook. Quite quickly I realised no-one likes an egg, so put a picture on and a bio, not having one, well, do we know what your about or if we have any interests in common, if I can't see you and you have no bio what would make me want to interact with you. Then something happened, real people followed, they could relate to something I said, and I followed real people back, and it got a little bit more interesting.

I lost my inhibitions and just put my self out there, replying to things and making comments. I love the TV programme "Brothers & Sisters" the character's in the show all remind me of my own family, it at times makes me sad, makes me cry and makes me laugh. Someone with the same interest/obsession tweeted me, I had no idea there was a group of us out there with the same interest/obsession and through twitter we made a connection.

Every Thursday when the programme was aired we got together, tweeting away about the characters and story lines in the show, James, who started the Brothers & Sisters Fans club, he is a sensitive caring soul, we chat about food often and the whereabouts of Tony aka Miss Soho, Tony makes me laugh, wine our main topic of conversation. Helen is a mum, kids, food and diets our favoured subjects. Simon is lovely and very supportive in times of need. Deanna a gorgeous young woman whom I recall tweeting long in to the night when she was at home alone and a little scared, glad of the company even it was only via twitter. Our common interest of Brothers & Sisters brought this little group together.

The TV show has been axed now but I continue to connect with my Walker family and feel they were really my introduction to the twitter experience, and it was a good one. I thank you for that.

So although there is a sad demise of our initial connection, The Nora Walker ideals have been passed on via twitter. For those who have never heard of Brothers & Sisters, Nora was the matriarch of a large complex family, who for all her families idiosyncrasies, liked to keep them connected. So she bossily tells you to make a twitter connection, you may happen upon some great people.....I have.

Sha X

Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered

If only I could be like Samantha Stephens from Bewitched, magical powers and a cute twiddle of the nose resolving all problems.

I try to be organised really I do, uniforms are ironed and prepped the night before, forms for trips filled in, the sorry I can't help out on that day box ticked, money in a clearly marked envelope for said trips and lunch. I have given up on pack-ups since A started school, the stress of making them, deciding what goes in them, the worry about nutritional content, my two don't do hummus and carrot sticks, and that I am not going to send a fellow pupil in to Anaphylatic Shock due to the fact there is some nut content unbeknown to me, became too stressful so opted for school dinners.

Going to bed quite confident everything is in hand. The alarm goes off between 7 & 7.30, we have to be out of the door for 8.30. When its not a school day I can guarantee the girls will be up and about without any prompting, me groaning for a lie in, not so on school days, I'm shouting them to get up.

Breakfast request this morning A cheese on toast was met with a I don't think so, T usually wants cereal and from here on in it degenerates. There is the last minute wail of insert any of these on any given day, "we have P.E. today, I haven't finished homework, where's my book, its not in book bag, we need to take some obscure item for show & tell, and don't forget you have to come in to school today as its family mass, the letter for this piece of information languishing in a school draw.

My school run uniform is a pair of black sweat pants, black t shirt which I try and juzz up with a nice ish cardigan, my hair however reveals the demented menopausal woman just trying to get out of the door on time. I hear you thinking why don't you just get up earlier? This has been tried but leaves more time for procrastination so not effective. I am bewildered as to how the other school run mums manage to be at the school gates with full make-up, in an immaculately turned out co-ordinated outfit.  My conclusion being I'm crap or they don't actually go to bed.

Who is the complete moron that chooses to call me in this critical hour of the day, they must be insane and receive short shrift from me. Finally ready to walk out of the door A will throw a royal strop because her socks hurt! Ensconced in the car I am convinced tractors sit in wait until school run times to leave the fields and clog up the road. A huge sigh of relief is breathed when at school I have managed to get them there before the teachers have closed the door, if that is the case you have to go in the main entrance and sign in your excuse for tardiness, which I really love to do dressed like a tramp.

This morning routine takes on herculean proportions and back home over a cup of tea daydream that I could just twiddle my nose.

Sha X

Time to Kick Some Arse

I was called on Friday morning to go up to the hospital, did I want to bring other family members, the consultants wanted to talk to us.

As a family we were getting more and more distressed as to mums condition, having been taken off the ventilator is a positive but can also create other problems, it is then they have to monitor how much the patient is doing for themselves and check oxygen levels in the blood and many other things. The consultant and staff nurse took my sister and I in to "The Family Room" FFS I heartily detest this room. The conversation was on the lines of they have done all they can.

We all react quite differently within the family to things, as I said I am the eldest of the four of us and am also a Capricorn, my reactions are very stoic, over the years I deal with what is presented to me at each given time not dwelling too much on the ifs buts or maybe's. My sister would admit that she has a tendency to panic, flap and over react, she is also like a dog with a bone if she has a bee in her bonnet, the older of my two brothers goes very deep within and puts up a wall, which can manifest in to anger and baby brother reacts quite similar to me and likes a little guidance.

The differing reactions can cause conflict as it is very easy to misunderstand where someone else is coming from and what is going on in their head, it can be all too easy to judge on how they conduct themselves under enormous pressure. We are all confident assertive individuals in our own way. At times we piss one another off.

The thing we share is a deep love of one another with strong bonds and in my opinion my mum and dad have done a very good job of instilling core family values in to each of us. We also share a deep love of our mother. With this in mind we agree that our main objective is what is best for her. The battle in your head as to doing everything to make her well and making sure she is in no pain or discomfort is tough beyond belief. We just want her back and question if this is for selfish reasons. It may contradict my stoic trait, but I as does my sister have great belief in our instincts. I trust what my gut is telling me most of the time.

At the hospital yesterday my sister was agitated and concerned, prior to my arriving mum had asked to go to the toilet, and said she would get up and go, my sister told her she couldn't possibly, this in itself didn't perturb my sister, it was the determination in mums voice, which we then questioned are we deluding ourselves or is she rallying.

In light of this like I said a dog with a bone my sister wanted us to have a conversation with the staff nurse to reassure us that they weren't giving up on mum, this wasn't the case they said. My sister didn't leave it there, she went up this morning to speak to the doctor and he agreed he had seen a spark, a bit of fight in mum not previously seen, they were on board with our thought process.

Last night after my visit I felt quite calm, like everything was going to be alright my gut saying don't worry, I am no medical expert and mum has a long way to go to recovery if she does at all. I'm not in denial or being naive, but for now I will hold on to that spark, that bit of fight she has shown, and go with my gut instinct.

If your up for it, so are we, its time to kick some arse mum!


Sha X

A Life Less than Ordinary

As I look at my mum laying there in the hospital bed, surrounded by tubes, wires, drips and breathing apparatus I could see the weak, very poorly woman diminishing before my eyes. Since mums stroke and consequent illnesses, she has needed carers going in to assist her with living independently, she has suffered the indignity that goes with being infirm and getting old.

I would like to introduce you to my mum.

As I have said in an earlier blog she didn't have the best start in life, her mum died when she was aged 7 and she was sent to live with her aunt who was a cold woman, quite a contrast to her warm loving mother, they were very poor but her memories of that time were being completely loved, her aunt had all the material things but wasn't one for showing affection. As soon as she was of an age she left and went to work "in service" at a Leeds city centre hotel, which meant she lived in at the hotel. She loved to sing and would earn a few quid singing in pubs, she also loved to go to the dance halls all dressed up. At about 18yrs she had a breakdown and was sent to the then known local nuthouse. When she got out of there she met my dad, he said she was wearing a cheap fur coat and smelt of "Evening in Paris", it was raining, and that she looked like a drowned rat albeit a beautiful one.

My mum always accredited meeting my dad to being the saving of her. They had a  family, which completed her and my dad was the provider, a role he took extremely seriously. My mum has always more than rose to the challenge of being the most fantastic mum. As a couple they rubbed along nicely, were very much in love and very passionate about most things. They had lots in common, but would also row and then passionately makeup. They had a fiery feisty relationship, both a match for one another, both very strong characters.

They were very social and loved going to and throwing parties, I would look at my mum when she was ready to go out, and see her, very glamorous and dressed up to the nines, false eyelashes fluttering, smelling of Tabu, her then perfume of choice. She looked like a film star.

Our house always had lots of visitors, it was always busy, mum would take on anyone else's children if the need arose. My friend stayed with us for many months whilst her mum was ill. We would go on caravan holidays and villas in Spain, depending on how much money my dad was earning. And the main reason everyone wanted be at ours was because of my mum Mary Farley. People were and still are drawn to her, her warmth, her wit, she is a great story teller and can turn an every day event story in to having you in stitches with her wry observations. She has never suffered fools gladly and usually a very good judge of character. She is a good listener and doesn't judge, people come to her with their problems knowing that after a cuppa and a chat they will feel better.

My mum has a strength and resilience that has been tested many times in her life, she has endured much heartache, if I have inherited even an ounce of that I am happy with that. She's been a wonderful wife, she's a fantastic mother, wonderful doting grandmother and great grandmother, a friend to many. She has an impact on anyone who has come to know her.

Her life story is far from ordinary.

Sha X

Going to Hell in a Handcart

With visitor packed off after a hearty meal on Bank Holiday Monday, I was looking forward to the last week of the school holiday, had a couple of trips planned with the kids and needed to prepare for back to school, new shoes and uniforms to buy, forms to fill in as its A's first day at school.

My main concern being that as I work selling to schools and nurseries September is the kick off for getting back in to the swing of things so my company have a conference in London with all the Reps in attendance. This is the time to introduce new product and initiatives and also to motivate the sales team for the term ahead. The conference involved an over night stay and I was very relieved it didn't clash with A's momentous first day at school, I would be here.

The previous week my husband had been on a gruelling interview to work on a 6 month contract in Western Australia, me and the kids wouldn't be going but the amount to be earned working on this contract warranted serious consideration, thought and discussion, it would be worth him going.

At 11.15 on Tuesday night the phone rang. My mum had a stroke a few years ago and has carers going in twice a day, she also has a lifeline around her neck to alert anyone if she is in danger or unwell. It was the lifeline people calling, my mum had fallen in the bedroom and was on the floor, could I go sort her out. It occurred to me when I got off the phone that there is no way I can get her up on my own, so was thankful to see her next door neighbours light on. We managed to get mum sorted and back in to bed. Mum said she was tired so I left her tucked up in bed, with neighbour we have nicknamed Florence Nightingale promising she would pop in early in the morning to check on mum.

Around 6.30am mums neighbour rang, she had found mum in bed fitting and being sick, the ambulance was already there. Frantic calls from and to sister and brothers ensued and we all arrived at A&E about the same time as the ambulance. We were ushered into the "Family Room", oh how I hate this god damn room! and told more or less our mum wasn't going to make it. She was intubated and taken to ICU.

There has been little change in mum no progression and at least no deterioration, we have decided to visit in shifts, there is no point in sitting there for hours, its cheery burst of chat to her, occasionally being rewarded with a look or a hand raise, but its very frustrating wondering what is going on in her head. She is in good hands and I trust that if they can they will make her well.

Today my husband received two phone calls of job offers, he has been out of work since January, it is the nature of his job, a bit feast or famine, one 7 days a week 12 hour shifts, the other working away in Kings Lynn, and a further call to say the Australia contract looks like a goer.

The title of this blog just about sums up my week thus far.

Sha X