Life · Randomness


My 25 year old nephew dumped his girlfriend of three years, two weeks ago, with whom he has a 21 month old daughter. Today his Facebook status says he’s in a relationship with someone new. Wow.! I find that not only offensive, but disrespectful. She’s been with him for three years, they’ve lived together for two, and he jumps into a new relationship barely two weeks after dumping her.?

When my husband and I split, after 18 years of marriage and two children, it took him six weeks to bed another woman. I didn’t care at the time, as for me the marriage had been over for years, and I was grateful just to be away from him. But when I think back, six weeks is nothing after 18 years of marriage. It made me realise just how little I must have meant to him for him to be sleeping with someone new so soon. Had I realised just how little he cared, I’d have left the bugger far sooner than I did, and not gone through all the hell I did.

When my eldest son and his girlfriend of 14 months split, he was devastated, while she started a new relationship 10 days later.

Do people not mourn lost relationships anymore.? I mourned for over six months before finally starting to feel more like myself again. I’ve mourned other broken relationships for ages, and yet find that others just swap one partner for another like they’re on a production line, with no thought of trying to re-ignite their previous relationship or get over the loss of their previous partner.


Happiness · Life

Life’s Light

Seven years ago today, I met a man on Facebook who I thought had a great sense of humour. Little did I know he was about to change my life.

I was in a very dark place at the time, and he became my light. My faith in humanity was almost gone, and he gave me something to believe in, and when I couldn’t face the nightmare I felt my life had become, he gave me strength and offered me everything he had. Despite having no job, no home and no car of his own, he drove nearly 600km to save me, and bring me home.

In the past seven years he has come to mean everything to me. He gives far more than he takes, and has ensured that I never feel the desolation and despair that I did before meeting him. He truly is the most amazing person I’ve ever known.

Life · Randomness

Ancient Half-Wit

Why do kids always think we adults need to have jokes explained to us, or feel a need to check Google before believing a thing we tell them.? We’ve been around since before dinosaurs roamed the earth, as far as they’re concerned, but apparently in all that time… we’ve learned NOTHING.! Adults are ancient half-wits with no sense of humour. We’re their dumb relatives.


My 11-year-old unofficial step-son (his Dad and I are not married) tells me the current thunderstorm raging outside is like McDonald’s, because he’s ‘lovin’ it’, then he sings the jingle, and says to me ‘get it.?’ *sarcastically* No, I don’t get it. I’m 44 years old, I’ve been in more McDonald’s’ than he’s had hot dinners, I have to listen to that increasingly more infuriating jingle every damn time there’s an advert on TV, and to the stupid catch phrase. So why, having suffered through all of that, would I not get a lame joke.?


Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I’m female, English or he really thinks I’m as dumb as a post. He tells me about the latest new song he likes, Jonas Blue’s pop version of ‘Fast Car’, and looks at me like I’ve lost my mind when I tell him it’s an old song, and Tracy Chapman did it first (and better). So then he checks it on Google, to make sure I’m telling him the truth. As if I’d bother winding him up about a song, when there’s so much more I can wind him up about. He likes to explain games like Sonic the Hedgehog and Donkey Kong to me, despite knowing I have two sons who used to play (and explain to me) the exact same games when they were younger. I once explained to him that I was playing both games when I was 18, on a Sega Mega Drive. He had to look up what a Sega Mega Drive was, then turned to me and said “Wow.! You’re really old.!”


Life · Randomness


Two days ago, I walked into town on my own to go to the hair salon. It’s taken me these past two days to get over it.

My partner’s children are staying with us for two weeks, over the summer holidays and for the first time in seven years are not up at the crack of dawn playing on their handheld game consoles. So when I asked my partner if he minded me getting my hair done, he said of course he didn’t, and I could go there by myself, couldn’t I, as it was an early appointment, and the kids would likely not be up yet.?

Of course I could, couldn’t I.? I spent the rest of the day before the appointment worrying about it. It’s not like I haven’t walked into town before on my own, I have, but always to meet him, knowing he’ll either be waiting for me, or will be there within 5 minutes of me getting to our arranged meeting place. This time I was going somewhere alone, and he wouldn’t be waiting for me, or be arriving there soon afterwards. I would be on my own. I got very anxious about it. I don’t like being around a lot of people, I feel suffocated, and struggle to breathe, I get claustrophobic and jittery, and feel trapped. I don’t like the feeling of being alone around people I don’t know, and while I know the stylist at the salon, she is still an unpredictable presence, and that worries me.

I barely slept the night before, worrying about having to be alone, and was up just after 6.30 a.m. three hours before I had to be there. I know the route, I know the neighbourhood, but it didn’t stop me feeling anxious. Leaving home to go into town was difficult, because I was alone, and walking down towards the town centre, I made sure I knew where the people around me were, and made sure to keep distance between them and me. Not that I think they’ll do anything, I just didn’t like their proximity.

I got to the salon, and waited a few minutes for her to finish with a previous client, and then sat and had my hair washed, and styled. Everything was fine. She was chatty, and funny, and as friendly as she always was, she made coffee, and I felt safe and happy there. I walked back home, perfectly fine, and feeling a little better about having gone out alone, but was mentally exhausted. I couldn’t function properly because I could think of nothing but being alone in town, and I got very upset about it. It’s taken me two days of being around the house, of doing normal everyday things with my partner, and the children, and trying not to think about it, to get past it.

Life · Randomness

The Storm

Last night, I was roused from the first decent sleep I’ve had in a few days by a crack of lightning that sounded like the roof was being ripped off, and a banging, booming overture of thunder and increasingly heavier rain that kept up it’s cacophony for an hour or so, sounding something like I imagine the last apocalyptic nuclear strike will sound, but being too exhausted to clamber out of bed to watch it, I missed the best thunderstorm we’ve had in these parts in years.! And I’m gutted. ๐Ÿ˜ฆ


Life · What If's

Facing your regrets


In February this year I started writing about my life, from the age of 6 years old, in a blog. I began with the people in my life at the time, the decisions they made that affected me, and the paths my life took because of their decisions. It’s not a pretty story, and there is no happy ending. I made some big mistakes, and have some regrets, and in putting it all in print, and reading the results of my labours, am facing some of those regrets, and they break my heart all over again, leaving me feeling depressed.

Memories of people I once loved, but had to leave behind, bring back those long buried feelings of heartache and loss, and in some cases, absolute devastation. Therapists tell us it’s good for the soul to write everything down, and exorcise some demons. It’s not the demons I’m having problems with, it’s the soul-destroying sense of loss and memories of people I know are still out there, somewhere, that are making me wish I could turn back the clock, and change the consequences of my decisions that affected them.


Do any of you have regrets over leaving a loved one behind, in having to move on with your life.?

Life · Randomness

Roll on Winter

It’s already


here today, and it’s only 11.45 a.m. I hate it.. Seriously.!! I’m a 15ยฐC and under kind of girl, who loves rain, snow and thunderstorms. It’s supposed to get hotter this afternoon, while I’m sat in my partner’s Mom’s back garden, having a barbecue and being broiled alive myself in the humidity, and moist heat. Yeuch.!!! I just know I’m going to be like this…


within half an hour. Melted into a steaming pool on the patio. And I’m not that person who moans when it gets too cold, and then moans when it gets too hot. I love the cold, I always have. I’m that person walking around in t-shirt and shorts in mid-November, when it’s bitterly cold and everyone else is buttoned up warm in coats, hats, gloves and scarves.

I’m an ice princess.


Life · Randomness

Neighbourly Love

Don’t be fooled by the title. I despise my neighbours. They’re loud, obnoxious, alcoholic stoners, who don’t give two fucks about anybody who has the unfortunate task of having to live around them. They have parties until 5 a.m, not giving a shit that my partner has to be up at 6 a.m for work. They allow their two teenage troglodyte daughters to race around the house like a herd of elephants, screaming and fighting, while they themselves are permanently drunk, stoned and verbally at war… and they don’t care that the entire neighbourhood can hear them. If you knock on and ask them to please turn the volume down, the male ass-hole turns the volume up, and then challenges you to a fight.

I’m looking forward to the day he challenges me. I’ve been aching to kick his ass for the past five years.! This morning I open the front door to find a passive aggressive note sellotaped to it, ‘asking’ us to move the plant we have growing up a trellis on the border with their property, from their wall. It’s wisteria, it won’t damage the wall, it won’t strangle them in their beds (despite my attempts at training it to), and it won’t eat anyone while they sleep (unfortunately). As soon as the tiniest bit of tendril breaks across the border with their property, they’re whining like you wouldn’t believe about it. Now, if you look out down the boundary fence in the back garden, they have a tree stump leant against the bottom of their side of the fence that is encroaching onto my side. They have a colourful banner tied to the fence that has a good nine inches at the end that is hanging over into my garden. One of their troglodytes amazingly managed to make it to 17.! Have I gone out there whining and bitching about it, complaining that their shit is encroaching on my property.? No, I haven’t.

I think it’s bloody pathetic that someone can be so anal about a plant. It will be moved, don’t get me wrong. The last time the wisteria dared to set tendril tip on their wall, they ripped the whole tendril off, and killed four feet of plant. I was furious. My partner, in his usual non-aggressive way just shrugged, called them ass-holes and left it at that. He believes in keeping the peace with his neighbours, while I’m happy to beat them to death, and achieve the same result. Peace.

Happiness · Life · Randomness

10 Things I Love About My Partner – The Non-Aesthetic Edition

I could go on, and on, and on about the aesthetic attributes of the big guy. From his 6′ 6”, 250 lb frame, to his pale blue eyes, cheeky grin and shaved head, that when he lets it, sprouts dark coloured, natural corkscrew curls (git.!), to his naturally curly dark beard that turns ginger down the centre, and only the centre. But, I’m not going to do that. ๐Ÿ˜‰

I thought I’d tell you about the things that make me happy, and make him the one man I want to spend the rest of my life with. (Yes, okay, go grab your sick bags, I’ll wait…) ๐Ÿ™‚

  1. He is not dramatic in any way. He’s so laid back, he may as well be horizontal. Nothing is a big deal, and every problem can be resolved, regardless of how long it takes. I wasย married for 19 years to a guy who made a massive drama out of everything.! Having man-trums, slamming about yelling, stomping and punching walls and doors. To call life stressful would be the understatement of the year.!
  2. He is minimalistic, neat and tidy. If it’s not necessary, it doesn’t get bought. If he doesn’t really want it, he doesn’t buy it. Our home is a haven to minimalism, no mess, no clutter, no stuffed shelves, and piles of ‘stuff’ anywhere. Everything has a place, and it gets put back every time he uses something. It’s bliss.! After spending those 19 years living in houses that got filled more and more with junk, clutter and needless stuff, I became suicidal and was diagnosed with OCD. I had developed it through the stress of living in homes that resembled obstacle courses, and the mental anxiety of knowing I could do nothing about them. I still have OCD, and I still get anxiety attacks, but over completely different things.
  3. He doesn’t socialise with his work colleagues. His work relationships stay at work. Nobody he works with is a part of our small social circle. He goes to work ‘do’s’, and if he sees a work colleague when we’re out he’ll go and say hi.! and occasionally introduce me, and tell me who they were, but he never encourages or invites anyone to join us or to come over to ours for the evening. I lived with the British Army for 10 years, and was expected to be openly friendly with, and socialise with, everyone on base. We were expected to be one big happy, supportive family. I hated it.! I hated the gossiping, the back-stabbing sniping from other Army soldiers and their wives. I hated the expectation that when someone decided they were going to have a barbecue with you, and knocked on your door on a Saturday morning, pulling their barbecue behind them, and with arms laden with bread, burgers, sausages, spareribs and salad bowls, you would happily greet them with enthusiasm and waste no time in setting everything up, and offering your crate of beer. I hated that when a kid told his parents he would be at your house, you had no option but to let the brat in. To not do so made you a pariah, and as much as I loved being the pariah, I suffered the man-trums that followed my daring to turn away a child who had decided they were going to play with my kids, even though my kids were busy doing other things.
  4. He is non-violent. He would rather talk a problem through than have to become physical. He can become physical if he absolutely has to, but he would rather solve things calmly and keep the peace. I am very aggressive. I was born into a military family, and had to bring myself up. I was a fairly wild child and had no issues solving problems with my fists. As a teen, I was permanently angry, and as a young woman had learnt to be verbally sarcastic and vicious. In the seven years I have been with my partner, I have calmed considerably, and whilst still a little aggressive, I’m more likely to deal with things calmly instead of lashing out. Until I’m pushed too far.
  5. He is honest. He never says anything because he thinks it’s what I want to hear. If I ask him something he will answer me honestly. He is diplomatic, but he won’t say something that will give me a false impression. There is nothing worse than being told you look great, when you really look like a bag lady, being told that pencil skirt doesn’t make your ass look big, when it makes it look like it belongs on an elephant, or being told the bright green hair colour you think looks fantastic, but makes you look like a washed out alcoholic, looks perfect on you.
  6. He loves me exactly the way I am. He doesn’t try to change me, doesn’t make me feel like I’m not good enough, that I need to be more capable, intelligent, funny, sociable or classy. He likes that I like sports, butts, beer, cake and his friends. He loves that I let him go out when he wants to, that I look after his children (when they’re with us) so that he can, and that I tolerate his addiction to the internet. He doesn’t care that I cut my long, chestnut brown hair off, and then shaved my head, despite knowing he loved it long. He doesn’t object to my weight gain, or complain about having to look after me, or do household chores for me, when my health issues mean my mobility is limited, even though he’s worked 10 hours that day and is exhausted.
  7. He is a major nerd. And I do mean MAJOR NERD.! This guy can quote Terry Pratchett, the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Monty Python, Star Wars, Star Trek, Bill & Ted, Wayne’s World, Samuel L. Jackson and any cult movie, going back to the mid-1970’s off the top of his head. If you reference a movie, he’ll be able to tell you which movie, what the quote was, who said it and the context. He blows my mind with how he can recall which character was played by what actor, and in what movie, what number of the series that movie was, if it was in a series, and how long the series ran for. Who the Director was, and what else they’ve directed. ๐Ÿ˜ฎ
  8. He is highly intelligent, but doesn’t brag about it. He is knowledgeable on a plethora of subjects. He can discuss the political situation in any country across the world in detail, debate the finer points of those countries societies, and tell you about their traditions and histories, both political and cultural. He can talk about the sports he loves (football, rugby, handball, road cycling, track cycling, F1, Speed Skating, Formula E, hockey, boxing, Glory/MMA, basketball, baseball, American football, skiing), the statistics involved, who the top athletes/players/riders/drivers are, and who they used to be, and when and who established the sport in the first place and where. I kid you not.! He’s read the classics, and loves to watch the TV series/movies after he’s read the books, and has a crazy amount of knowledge on a wide range of books and authors. He taught himself to speak English, and speaks it fluently. He taught himself to speak French, German, Belgian, Italian, Spanish and Russian. He even knows some Greek, Polish and Arabic. He has the same ability with movies and music as he does with sports, and writes for a review website. He loves hip-hip, ska and punk rock, and he can mosh with the best of them.! ๐Ÿ˜€ He loves philosophy and psychology, science and space exploration and has extensive knowledge of them. But does he make you feel like a brain dead moron.? No, he doesn’t.
  9. He is funny and has a ‘Dad’ sense of humour. Farts are hilarious in our house, and anything that can be construed as a Dad joke will be met with almost gut-busting gales of laughter. “What do vegetarian zombies eat.? GRRAAAAAIIIIINNNNNSSSS”. If you think that’s bad “What’s Forrest Gump’s Password.? 1 Forrest 1.” and for the Dad’s amongst you “Did you hear about the circus fire.? It was in tents.” Seriously bad jokes like these will cause belly laughs, and the kind of hysterics that would have you rolling on the floor, crying with laughter. Sometimes I have to check he’s still breathing while he’s almost peeing himself. He’s spectacularly quick with one-liners too, although they can sometimes be very politically incorrect in content. Just yesterday, we were watching a fire-eater, and I remarked on how the guy must have some sort of flame retardant in his throat to keep from burning himself… sharp as a knife he quips “So, would that make him a flaming retard.?” I couldn’t decide whether to give him ‘The Look’ or laugh my ass off.
  10. He’ll try new things. I don’t mean like food and drinks, the guy eats vindaloo like it’s korma. I mean D.I.Y, gardening, cooking, that kind of thing. He’s never done any tiling, but when I asked him to tile the kitchen once our new units were installed, he tiled from one edge of the counter top all along the length of the kitchen, tiling the window sill and hob splash-back, and under the electric sockets, around to the edge of the counter top on the other side. Perfectly straight, perfectly aligned, he broke only two. He’s never done gardening, or grown anything, but when I told him I’d like to get the garden sorted for the summer, he went outside, dug the whole thing over with a spade (50 square feet), separated it into 4 sections, and grew rhubarb, parsnips, peas, carrots and red cabbage over 2 seasons. He baked the first birthday cake I had after we moved in together, despite having never baked a cake in his life. I love how he’ll turn his hand to anything, despite having never done it before, and having no experience. This past autumn, he drove an English car in England, despite having spent his life driving left-hand drive cars on the right hand side of the road. Granted, he scared the crap out of himself when a rose bush jumped out at him, but otherwise was perfectly fine, and got the hang of it quickly.
Life · Randomness

Age Verification

Having read the small print (finally!) on the terms and conditions of having a WordPress account, yes, I’m one of THOSE people who click agree, without reading a word ๐Ÿ˜€ , I discover I need to have age verification on my ‘lifestyle’ blog, because of it’s adult content.

And I’m thinking, seriously.?! You think some horny kid’s not going to lie through their teeth about their age if they want to get onto an adult blog.? Who do you think you”re kidding.? I haven’t been a teenage girl in decades, but if a blog had an age verification attached to it, I’d have been all over it like peach melba yoghurt on naked skin. If I’d wanted to see explicit adult photos and video’s I’d have lied like a cheap Japanese sundial to get to them.

Anything that says “No Entry Unless You Tell Us You’re 18” is going to be told I’m 18, regardless of my true age. Intrigued by this I went to and logged off. Then tried to set up a new account, and was faced with having to verify my age. One brazen lie later, and yeay.! I’m a new 19 year old member of Fetlife. ๐Ÿ˜€

Obviously, I deleted the new account, one is more than enough right now, but I now have a fair idea of where my kids got their porn, if sites such as these only have a birth date verification system to keep their content from the intrigued eyes of sexually enlightened twelve year-old’s, or younger.

Now, I’ll have to go and warn my readers that I’ve cottoned on to the fact that half of them are pubescent little boys, and warn them they’ll go blind.!!