This blog moved years ago!!!

This blog moves quite some time ago! You can now find me here:
www.karmadillo.co.uk

Extra Hour in Bed My ARSE!

*rant rant rant*

Extra hour in bed *mumble*

Better for kids walking to school in the morning *rubbish – they just get run over in the dark afternoons when they’re tired instead!*

What is with this resetting of clocks malarky?!

And when is someone going to get the idea through to the under 5s?!! Putting the clocks back just means I get woken at 5am instead of 6am on a bliddy Sunday morning!

Hmmm need to transcribe this to grrrblogr 😉

That is all.

Contemplative Sunday

Having been in an aggitated & pensive mood for a while due to recent events and my impending 40th birthday, the death of Boyzone star Stephen Gately at the young age of 33 has made me even more so.
I’ve always disliked Boyzone with a passion, but the death of anyone at a young age (particularly, younger than yourself!) is always a reminder of our own fragile mortality.
Live life, enjoy what you have, however little it may seem, and do what you enjoy. Be who you want to be.
Maybe it’s time to start taking my own advice……

Having been in an agitated & pensive mood for a while due to recent events and my impending 40th birthday, the death of Boyzone star Stephen Gately at the young age of 33 has made me even more so.

I’ve always disliked Boyzone with a passion, but the death of anyone at a young age (particularly, younger than yourself!) is always a reminder of our own fragile mortality.

Live life, enjoy what you have, however little it may seem, and do what you enjoy. Be who you want to be. And don’t write dreary blog posts at this hour on a Sunday morning. Especially pre-coffee.

Maybe it’s time to start taking my own advice……

Busy Head

Oh look. I did it again. I haven’t posted anything for months!

Well, here I haven’t. There have been other things afoot so this has been neglected somewhat. Been working on some other blogs (covertly shhhhh) and doing some writing and wonky thinking and stuff.

I have this problem with an over busy head – there are so many things I want to do I usually end up doing none of them very well!

I thought about sharing some of my short stories here but haven’t yet because:

  1. I honestly don’t think they’re very good,
  2. I don’t want to look stupid(er),
  3. They’re mine and I don’t care if people think they’re good or stupid…. ooh wait. Did I just contradict myself already?!

Well, maybe I will share. Maybe I won’t. Maybe you don’t care either! 😉

Oh what the heck, go on then. Don’t get over-excited 😉

Best Friend

She cradled the lighter in the palm of her hand, her fingers lightly encasing it, as she slowly flipped it over with her thumb. Over and over and over. Over. That word that had changed her life completely. Over.

The silver Zippo felt heavy and cold in her palm, her thumb gently stroking the floral engraved surface with each turn, it drew warmth from her gentle embrace as she flipped it. Over. She knew the map of it’s dents and scratches as well as she knew her own scarred and ravaged face.

She stared blankly into the dimly lit room, her eyes seeing but her brain choosing not to process the dismal images it was receiving. She knew every putrid inch of these malevolent walls and had no more need to bother with the ugliness of it all. Over. And over.

She blinked. Eyes which had seen so many tears had become dry, gritty and sore. Her cracked, bleeding lips gave life to the longest of warm sighs. She inhaled deeply through her nose and the smell from the petrol lighter burned her nostrils and throat, yet seemed to sooth her being. All. Over.

A detached observer may not have noticed that more than the smell of lighter fluid tainted the fetid, stale air in the room that she had made her own dank cell since he left several days earlier. Much more. But she knew. Finally. Over.

She closed her eyes and felt the comforting heaviness of the now warm lighter. She felt as one with this old friend now as she gently popped back the lid. A tiny metallic stopper clicked back against the lid like a hammer, causing an almost imperceptible, yet sustained and perfect chime as the hinged lid rang like the minutest of bells. Her thumb rested on the rough wheel which she knew from long experience would always reliably spark and bear flame on the first flick. They’d been through a lot together, her and her lighter. It was the one thing in her life she could rely on. Over. Everything.

Her lips curled gently into an easy smile as she turned the wheel with a steady thumb. In that split second she felt every serration on the trusty wheel playfully cut into her flesh a little. It was the last thing she allowed herself to feel.

Over.

Best Friend

She cradled the lighter in the palm of her hand, her fingers lightly encasing it, as she slowly flipped it over with her thumb. Over and over and over. Over. That word that had changed her life completely. Over.

The silver Zippo felt heavy and cold in her palm, her thumb gently stroking the floral engraved surface with each turn, it drew warmth from her gentle embrace as she flipped it. Over. She knew the map of it’s dents and scratches as well as she knew her own scarred and ravaged face.

She stared blankly into the dimly lit room, her eyes seeing but her brain choosing not to process the dismal images it was receiving. She knew every putrid inch of these malevolent walls and had no more need to bother with the ugliness of it all. Over. And over.

She blinked. Eyes which had seen so many tears had become dry, gritty and sore. Her cracked, bleeding lips gave life to the longest of warm sighs. She inhaled deeply through her nose and the smell from the petrol lighter burned her nostrils and throat, yet seemed to sooth her being. All. Over.

A detached observer may not have noticed that more than the smell of lighter fluid tainted the fetid, stale air in the room that she had made her own dank cell since he left several days earlier. Much more. But she knew. Finally. Over.

She closed her eyes and felt the comforting heaviness of the now warm lighter. She felt as one with this old friend now as she gently popped back the lid. A tiny metallic stopper clicked back against the lid like a hammer, causing an almost imperceptible, yet sustained and perfect chime as the hinged lid rang like the minutest of bells. Her thumb rested on the rough wheel which she knew from long experience would always reliably spark and bear flame on the first flick. They’d been through a lot together, her and her lighter. It was the one thing in her life she could rely on. Over. Everything.

Her lips curled gently into an easy smile as she turned the wheel with a steady thumb. In that split second she felt every serration on the trusty wheel playfully cut into her flesh a little. It was the last thing she allowed herself to feel.

Over.

Why I will never again neglect my right to vote…..

I’m not a believer in compulsory voting.

However, personally I feel that neglecting to vote is an insult to the struggle and suffering of the many who have fought for universal suffrage over the years. They did, of course, also further our right to choose NOT to vote and not voting as a conscious decision is just as important for some.

In last year’s local election, I neglected to vote. I was busy / tired / tied up etc. Or lazy / complacent / ignorant if you prefer!

When I collected the kidlets from primary school, the secondary school on the same campus was serving as a polling station. I’d been somewhere in the car and was a bit early, so sat in the car park waiting. As I sat there, an elderly lady came out of the part of the building where the polls were being conducted. I saw her, then carried on messing with my mobile phone: tweeting or somesuch nonesense! Five minutes later, I looked up and this lady had advanced no further than 15 metres or so towards me, her mobility was so much of an effort. (*NB. All distances are estimated and I’m rubbish at estimating distance! Just take it as read that she was very, very slow!) I went to her and asked if she was okay or would she like any help? She was trying to the exit the car park: 30 metres up a steep slope across the busy entrance. She said she was all right but it would be nice if I would lend her an arm. It took us 15 minutes to walk that 30 metres. I was beginning to think I was going to be late collecting my kidlets. Her next pitstop was the supermarket 200 metres away! She wouldn’t let me help her any further and insisted on slowly, independently making her way off to do her shopping.

Whilst walking with this lovely lady, we chatted. She was proud to have used her vote. She would have done anything to make sure it wasn’t wasted. She felt it was the single most important thing she had done for months.

So, in future, in respect for this anonymous stranger & the thousands of other people, both reknowned & unknown, who have struggled for my right to vote in democratic elections, I will never neglect to use my vote again.

Normal Service Will Be Resumed Shortly….

Currently moving my wordpress.com blog over to self hosting so things may be missing, broken, generally rubbish (yes, I know it’s always rubbish!)

Should be done soon, bear with me! Or if you prefer, bare with me – I know what you lot are like!

An afternoon out…

As today was Friday of the half term holiday, the kidlets were getting bored and the weather was fine and unseasonably warm, so we bunged them a camera each and set off to visit Birmingham Nature Centre

We armed ourselves with dodgy digital cameras/mobiles, and Marty gave us a triangle theme for our snappy afternoon, resulting in:

Read More…