Bluebells and massage

The first bluebells are here! Now I usually think of these as arriving in April or May so that shows you how early we are this year. And while global warming might be ruining our planet, at least it shows that spring is on its way. And that is a cheering thought indeed.

On Saturday afternoon I had the second of my birthday massages. My mum and Himself gave me vouchers for the wonderful spa at a nearby hotel, and so I am able to have several massages – free!

One thing that struck me is how young the girls are – the masseuses, that is. Yes, I know this is a sure sign of Getting Old, but most of these girls are 20ish. They look at you as if you are no longer a member of the human race, and evidently eye my sagging skin and skinny frame with distaste. Having worked as a masseuse I know. As I know the unflattering comments that abound later. “Tubs of lard” was one at the place I used to work.

But this girl gave me a 5 second chat to ascertain whether I wanted aromatherapy oils to calm me down or buoy me up. I explained that I’m fairly hyper by nature, so calming would be better.

I had half an hour’s thorough neck, shoulders and back massage and got up feeling quite light headed. I recovered in their Rest Room – lay sipping a glass of iced water and reading a glossy magazine wondering where to place a couple of pieces I’d written on spec for a glossy that doesn’t want them.

I then went home, so reeking of Soothing Aromatherapy Oils that even Mollie sniffed at me nervously. That night I slept like a tree trunk (do they sleep?) and have been unable to function ever since. Life is like struggling through treacle, or brain high mud. As for brain cells – forget it. I left them with the twenty year old on the massage couch.

But I’d still go for another massage. Half an hour to have all the stresses and strains kneaded out of my body – bliss.

PS Mum - I hope you're reading this today. Hello and I love you. Keep practising your emails!

Bad Times and Good Times

I am surrounded by friends going through dire times.

A few days ago one friend rang up to apologise for not having been to stay recently. She’s been having problems with her 20 year old daughter who’s developed OCD. She’s now seeing a counsellor which seems to be helping, and her mother has got her hands on as many books on the subject as she can and is now an expert. But she doesn’t like to leave the daughter while she’s so wobbly.

I listened to her anguish down the phone and thought, she doesn’t deserve this. My poor friend who has one trouble after another. But as I can’t make her life any better, I just reissued the invitation and sent my love to both of them.

Another of my friends, one of my dog walking partners, has had a very poorly husband for weeks now. As I write he’s being operated on in London and I haven’t dared ring to ask how things are. She said she’d be in touch so I’m waiting – and hoping – that things are OK. They’ve both been through a lot of bad health recently and they really don’t deserve this recent bout of bad luck.

Then there’s my mate whose father is very ill. She’s dividing her time between Exeter, where her husband works, and here, where her parents are and she is now the kids are home from university on holidays. I can tell by her increasingly desperate emails and phone calls how torn she is. Everyone relies on her for everything, and I worry that she’s going to snap pretty soon.

Lastly there’s my other mate who’s been in hospital having her hip recoated. She’s home now but is being inundated with friends and family coming to Help. Unfortunately she really needs just to rest a lot and isn’t able to do so while all these people are in attendance. (She’s not very good at saying No.) I warned her daughter, who’s a nurse, that she’s supposed to rest every hour and a half and hopefully she will swing into action and get heavy. But I’d hate for the hip operation to go wrong just because she’s not getting enough rest.

So that’s some of my friends. I ring them, email them, lie in bed and worry about them and think how lucky I am.

I’ve got one vigilante husband, one extremely muddy dog from this morning’s walk, a car that we’re hoping will pass its MOT this morning, and bills to pay. But we’re healthy, and we’re happy, which is the main thing.

PS The car failed.

Vandalism - your say

Last week’s vandalism in our street – about twenty cars all deeply scarred with an instrument like a screwdriver – must have amounted to around £20,000 worth of damage. And it turned out not to be the only incidence in the area.

A few days before that, a friend of mine’s car had the pipe leading to the petrol tank cut off and all the petrol siphoned out of it. Of course, she’d just filled it up.

We weren’t going to report the vandalism in our street, because we didn’t think the police would take any notice, but they assured us that this wasn’t the case. Apparently, the more incidents are reported, the more the police will patrol that area.

The police couldn’t have been more helpful when we went to see them, and the forensics lady had a good look at our car and was astounded. But they weren’t too hopeful about finding the culprit(s) and even if they do, legally they aren’t able to charge them. There were no witnesses and they have no powers to punish them.

When Himself erupted, saying he’d like to bring back hanging, one of them said, “yes my husband would too.”

But if they can’t actually do anything to the culprits, what’s the point?

What do you think should happen? What would you like to do or be done?

Runaway Dogs and Insurance Claims

Following on from the vandalism saga (see Friday’s post), we then discovered that our MOT has run out. And the tax is due on Monday. So we walked Moll first thing this morning and decided to call in at a garage in town on the way home to see if they could fit us in pronto.

It was a glorious morning: after the wind and wet of the weekend, this morning was serene and sunny, no wind and a feeling of calm descended on the castle. We met other dog walking friends, exchanged news of the weekend (more about the vandalism) and were coming back to the car when we found a group of dog walkers gathered on the Hornworks, a long flat landing strip covered in grass.

A 10 month old collie was running wild, having been let off the lead for the first time. Of course, at his first glimpse of freedom and playing with other dogs, he was having a wonderful time, and the owners couldn’t get him back. We stayed for a while to help, but this dog didn’t respond to being called, to biscuits waved near him, balls thrown for him. Nothing.

I hadn’t realised how bad it was until the owner, a timid lady in her sixties, said, “How do you train a dog?”

So she’d had him for four months and done no training at all. Oh, no.

At this point Himself decided we should leave and went by a new garage which is a family run business. The son said that they could fit us in on Friday and when we told him about the vandalism at the weekend he called, “Mum. ‘Ere. Look what they’ve done this car!”

Mum came along (a lady in her sixties at a guess) and we tutted and swore over the youth of today until another lad came along. The grandson. Thankfully not like the youths who dug screwdrivers into our car. He helps his dad and his gran run the garage.

We were sent on our way with promises to look after us, and that this bloke was moving round the corner from us, so we’d be neighbours. (Hope he’s got a garage for his car.)

We returned, warmed by the generosity of the garage family, and Himself set about ringing the insurance people to get a claim form. An hour, and endless phone calls later, he put the phone down and yelled, “Pop!”

I emerged and asked what was the matter.

“We’ve only got third party insurance,” he said.

“So?”

“So we can’t claim anyway.”

The only reason we were going to claim was so that when we need to change the car, we can do so in part exchange. It's worth nothing with these scratch marks all over it.

We looked at each other in dismay. Then he started laughing. So did I. “We’re f***ed,” he said, tears running down his cheeks.

But he’s made some phone calls and is off to find some spray so we can do it ourselves. Remember, this is The Man Who Will Not Be Beaten,

Frustrated Silver Surfer

As I write, Mum is having her last computer lesson of the weekend. (Himself has a lot more patience than me so he’s being Teacher.)

It’s been a very busy few days and she brought her laptop with her, but because of the cockups with Tiscali, she wasn’t able to access her emails here so has to go back home and try there.

She is really upset about the whole Tiscali thing (and we are furious) and has decided to cancel them and go with BT. Trouble is, it’s impossible to get hold of Tiscali and she’s supposedly bound into a contract for a year. As they haven’t delivered any service and sent her the wrong modem and router, she has no faith in them.

So for those of you who have sent her emails and waiting for a reply, she’s not being rude. She will write back as soon as she can.

It’s such a shame because we wanted her to get started hassle free and found her someone who can install broadband etc. He’s great but she has no confidence in Tiscali and is understandably worried about the whole thing. Not a good start.

However, despite dire weather forecasts, it hasn’t been too bad. We’ve been out and about, met up with some dear friends, had some great walks and read forest fulls of newspapers when we got home. My dear mate who’s had her hip recoated is in fine fettle and should be coming home tomorrow, so all is well.

Actually, we could do with another bank holiday to get over this one. My bed has never seemed more attractive. Trouble is, it’s only eleven am…

Mindless destruction and rules for living

Last night we met up with RT and ET from next door and the friend who’s about to embark on a PhD in September as a mature student. Exciting but scary. We went to the same café as last week’s girls’ night – except that last night Himself graced us with his presence – and had a lovely evening. Lots of natter, laughs, cheered the prospective student up a bit and walked home, buffetted by the high winds.

This morning we woke up to find that our car, parked at the end of the street had been keyed – scratched by a key all over the sides, roof, bonnet and back. Himself was so upset he could barely speak. Not because we are proud car owners but because of the mindless vandalism. The fact that whoever did this has no regard for others’ property. That they did this to all the cars in the street, though not as thoroughly as ours.

And also because it was my mother’s car that we bought off her a year ago, and of course she’s coming to stay this evening. The thought crossed my mind that should we need to sell the car in part exchange – as we always do need to – it’s now almost worthless.

We had a very Silent dog walk this morning. It’s best to leave Himself when he’s that upset. A cuddle is best to start off with. Then when he’s recovered, we get the language, and just what he’d like to do to whoever is responsible for such meaningless, selfish behaviour.

I get very protective of him at times like this. I can feel his frustration, anger and sadness. It bursts out like fast growing weeds, unwanted and virulent.

It made me think of an interview I did earlier this week when the wife said that they take it in turns to be strong. She asked me if we did the same.

“Yes,” I said. “We try never to have a wobbly at the same time.”

And there you have it. Our Number One rule of Living Together.

The Silver Surfer

Except that she's not - she's got less grey hair than me.

At last – I finally received an email from my mother yesterday morning.

For those of you not in on this saga, we bought my mother a second hand laptop for her Christmas present last year. Being completely new to computers and cyberspace, she was very Anxious so we managed to give her a couple of lessons here and she finished with shining eyes saying, “I’ve sent my first email!”

We found her someone in the village to help her set up with Broadband and in January he gave her a general lesson and advised her to ring Tiscali to get the package which he would then install. (BT and other suppliers aren’t available where she lives, in the depths of the Devon countryside.) She rang on January 19th and at various times after that and still nothing turned up.

Whenever she got through (and it always took a while) someone would assure her that the package was in the post. Which it obviously wasn’t.

A package arrived last week but not before she’d finally got through and been informed that she’d been charged for Broadband since January 19th. You can imagine my reaction to that. WHAT????? You can hear my crystal sharp Top C can’t you?

Finally, nearly three months after she rang, she told me that Chris was coming to set her up with Broadband yesterday morning.

I forgot about it and came back from a meeting to find the following in my Inbox:-

We finally made it. See you on Friday. Lots of love Mum.

So she’s bringing her laptop so she can have some more lessons over Easter. Just as well given the weather forecast.

Hooray and happy easter!