Weekly Writing Challenge: Object – My Grandma’s Reindeer

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/24/writing-challenge-

I walked into the room, heart pounding and mouth dry.  The bright lights hurting my eyes as I walked down the corridor.  I turned right down another long hallway.  Each step becoming harder than the one before.  My legs felt like jelly.  My head was buzzing and I felt dizzy and sick.  Eventually I saw Ward 9, I turned right and pulled open the heavy wooden door.  I squirted on some antibacterial hand gel and rubbed it into my hands whilst walking towards the nurses desk.  I cleared my throat and asked her where she was.  I was directed down towards the end of the ward into the last room.  There she lay in the bed, looking so tiny.  Much smaller than usual.  Her curly grey hair still looking perfect.  She knew someone was there but she did nt know who it was as her eyes were severely affected by cataracts. I walked over to the bed, took her hand and said “Hello Grandma”.  “Hello love” she managed. She knew who I was.  My grandma and I had a close relationship.  I sat next to her and stroked her hair.  I tried to speak to her without letting her know how upset I was.  The nurse came in and I asked her how she had been over night.  “She has been quite stable” she said.  “She looks much better today” I said, trying to be optimistic.  The nurse smiled at me but said nothing, and then carried about her business.  I kissed my grandma on the cheek and said “I will see you later grandma, I will be back later, I promise.”  “OK” she croaked whilst managing a smile and nodding slowly.

I walked out of the ward with the intention of going to the canteen for a cup of coffee.  I was tired.  I had not had much sleep as I had been worried about my grandma.  I reached a chair in one of the corridors and decided to sit down. I began thinking of all the things we had done together.  The holidays we had been on. The time in Ibiza when she sat on a wall with white trousers on and when she stood up they were red, she was covered in ants!

As a child I often stayed with her on a weekend.  I loved going. I loved walking her dog, Snowy, up and down the cobbled back street. The same street my uncle, (only 9 years older than me, he was the youngest of her children), had taught me to ride a bike on an adult full sized BMX when aged only 8 years old.  I could not even touch the floor and had to balance the bike against the wall to climb on!  In school holidays I remember being looked after by my grandma with my siblings and cousins.  My Grandma’s cooking was the best, macaroni cheese and homemade chips was my favourite.

I used to sit on the sofa in her living room and watch TV, all snuggled up with her woolen Scottish tartan blanket. One time I was laid on the floor in front of the hot fire watching my favourite TV program after school, my grandma downstairs cooking tea.  All of a sudden a little white mouse ran across the front of me from behind her glass cabinet which stored all her trinkets and ornaments bought for her over the years by her children and grandchildren. I remember thinking it was cute, but I screamed anyway. I remember grandma telling me not to be scared and to think how scared the poor little mouse was seeing me on the floor, as I was a lot bigger than the mouse! That made me laugh.

Every Christmas day was spent at grandma’s with all my aunts, uncles and cousins.  One year all 11 grandchildren lined up and we sang “Grandma we love you”.

A more recent memory of 5 or 6 years before floated back, when grandma has made me a royal blue and bottle green tartan pinafore dress.  I remember being stood in her front room whilst trying on my new dress.  Her laughing at me when I said I had ‘boobies’ telling me they were like ‘fried eggs’.  I was only 12, and my grandma was a 40DD bra size.  I can see now why she found it so funny.

She was how grandmas are supposed to be.  She made and repaired things, clothes etc, she cooked and she cleaned, she treated us to presents and fed us lots of biscuits and cakes.  My grandma was from Scotland but she was far from the stereotype of being stingy with money,  she was the exact opposite, and in fact the most generous person I knew.

Just then my mobile rang. It was my uncle asking me to go back to the ward as the doctor wanted to speak with me. When I arrived, I was lead into a side room and I sat down on one of the chairs.  My uncle was there, he looked at me and instead of talking he began to cry.  I had never seen my uncle cry before.  It was hard to see, a 6 ft 4 inch stocky man, eyes red from the tears, looking heart broken.  I looked at the floor and said “has she gone?” “No, but she is not well”. Managed my uncle, at that point he broke down again.  “We have tried to give her another blood transfusion but nothing is working for her any more.  I am sorry but it is only a matter of time now.”  I stared at the doctor as the words fell out of his mouth, like lead to the floor.  Each word washing over me, but it did not really sink in. All I could think was ‘that’s it, she is going.’  I dropped to my knees and I cried, harder than I had ever cried before. Even when my mum and dad divorced, I do not remember crying so hard. heart ached, I felt like my world was falling apart around me.  My grandma was like a second mum to me.  In fact I told my grandma things I could not speak to my mum about.  My grandma had looked after my first child, which I had when I was only 17.  My grandma never judged me, she did nothing but support me.  She took me and my son on trips with her Pensioners Club to the seaside.  My son adored her, he used to help her do the gardening and loved hanging the washing out on the line with her, she made it fun. She even played football with him in the garden, despite her having a double hip replacement only a couple of years previously.  She was one person that my son would do absolutely anything for.

I stopped crying and wiped away the tears. “I want to see her.” I said as I walked out of the side room and into hers.  My grandma was laid in bed asleep.  “Hi grandma” I said.  “Hello dear” she managed quietly.  A tear ran down my cheek.  “Are you ok?” I said.  She nodded and smiled.  I sat next to her, perched on the bed and held her hand. “I love you grandma” I said.  “I love you too.” She replied.  I stroked her hair and kissed her forehead and said “I’ll see you again soon grandma.” She looked in my direction, but I know she would nt have been able to see my face because of her cataracts, but she stared in my direction, smiled at me and said “yes”.  The doctor had n’t said anything to her, but I knew she could tell that this was the last time we were to see each other, in this life time.  I hugged her tight and kissed her again on the cheek and with that I let go of her hand, I turned and began to walk away.  Tears streaming down my face I turned to look at her one last time. She had closed her eyes and looked peaceful with a smile on her face.  I smiled back and whispered “love you grandma, I will see you again.” At that moment I thought in my head ‘Please angels take good care of her, she is so precious.’

I turned and walked down the corridor.  As I reached the door I heard the nurses rushing, I turned around and saw them heading towards the end room. I knew that was it, she was gone.  I walked out of the hospital and sat in my car. I held between my palms the little reindeer broach my grandma had given to me, just before she had gone into hospital. That was 6 years ago.  I still speak to her on a daily basis and keep that reindeer close.  To anyone else that reindeer is nt worth anything else, it is nt made from gold or any other precious metal, but it was my grandmother’s. I had bought it for her one Christmas when I was 11 years old with my pocket money from the local market.  She had kept it all those years, until I was 27.  That meant so much to me.  I will always have a bond with my grandma and even though physically she is not here, I know she is around.

My final tribute to grandma was the song I chose for her funeral. “Grandma we love you” by St Winifred’s Choir. That seemed like the only choice for me.

“One day grandma I will see you again, that day will be when the angels are also looking after me. But until then I will keep close to me the only thing I have left, our little reindeer. And of course, our memories.”

grandmasreindeer

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You forgot to say your new job was ‘Back Stabber’

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/17/the-sound-of-silence/#more-69294

Have you ever been in a situation where you thought someone was a true friend, and would always be in your life, to then find that all along they have been stabbing you in the back?

“There was once a lady called Sarah,

who unfortunately now I can’t bear her,

she pretended to be my friend

but she has done something she cannot mend,

and now I no longer see her” Anon.

This particular person was a friend of mine.  She began to have marital problems.  Throughout all of the problems I stood by her side.  I helped her out when she had no money, I took her out to cheer her up.  I even treated her to a new dress when she had lost loads of weight and nothing fitted her.  It turns out in return all she could manage was to stab me in the back.  To bitch about me to another friend because I went out for a few drinks whilst my children went to visit their dad.  This is truly a crime, clearly.  I mean how unreasonable it is for me to go out for a bit of social time with friends when my children are not even around.  So hand cuff me now, for I have clearly committed the evilest of crimes.

Whilst initially I was upset, I have forgiven her.  I do not like to carry resentment as I believe it is a waste of my resources.  And, so is being friends with someone who is unable to be a friend back.  I never expected anything from you, I did not want you to buy my clothes, or repay me the money I have spent in taking you out.  But a thank you would have been nice, along with your loyalty.

Good luck friend, I believe, if this is the way you treat all your ‘friends’, you may very well need it.

This particular incident happened at Christmas and until now I have held my silence.  I do not want to argue with her, it serves no purpose, but I think by now she will surely notice my lack of presence.

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My (not-so-funny) Valentine: Weekly Writing Challenge

My now ex-husband left the marital home three years ago, on Valentine’s day-anything for a bit of extra drama!  So it has always been a bit of a strange day for me, a celebration of finally becoming free, but a reaffirmation I was once again single!  Last year was the first Valentine’s day since the eventful departure/extraction of the ex where I actually felt able to date.  I had been chatting to a man online for a few weeks and when he asked me out on a date, nicely coinciding with the 14th February, I was very happy to accept.  I thought ‘Wow, this timing is perfect, it is surely meant to be!’  He seemed nice, always had plenty to talk about and from his pictures he looked attractive.

no valentine

So, Imagine my disappointment when the guy who turned up looked distinctly older than he did on his photographs.  He was also much shorter than his 6 foot 1 inches he had entered on his profile.  So glad I had decided not to wear heels that day.  I attempted to hide my disappointment and decided not to write him off just yet.  We had connected when chatting on line….kind off, and he seemed pleasant enough. He suggested we go for a drink before our meal.  As soon as we entered the bar we got our drinks and we went to sit down.  He led me over to a table and he sat in the single chair leaving me to sit on a bench type chair in the corner, not very polite may I say, and in addition, I do not like being shoved in a corner.  As soon as I sat down he then got up and sat next to me on the bench style chair.  As there was also a table in front of me I now felt rather uncomfortable-in fact worse than that, TRAPPED.  To break the ice and try to alleviate the awkwardness of the situation, I began began chatting about the messages we had sent and the conversations we had covered in those messages.  As hard as I tried, after twenty minutes or so the conversation began to run dry, I was really struggling to find anything to say to this man.  This is unusual for me as I can quite often fill any awkward silences with ease but this time I just could not think of any words.  It confirmed things when he returned from a trip to the toiler and exclaimed:

“Oh well you’ve not done a runner so that’s a bonus!”

By this point I was desperately trying to think of a viable excuse as to why I could not go for the meal with him.  I began saying I needed to get home shortly as I had loads of things to sort out before work the next day.   He proceeded to show me pictures of his family days out, a final picture of his mum with hot chocolate round her mouth and stuck to her teeth were pretty much the final straw for me.  Was this fella just some crazy man?! As I was about to make my excuses and go I received a text message.  ‘YES!’ I thought. ‘A get out clause, I can just tell him that there is some emergency and I really need to go.’  But no one could prepare me for this.  I could not believe it, it was from my date-YES THE ONE SAT NEXT TO ME! I looked at him, puzzled, and he showed no emotion on his face at all so I assumed it was an old message which had come through late.  But as I clicked the message open I could not believe my eyes.  The message read:

I am dying to kiss you right now

online-dating texter

I know we met online, but this man did realise that when you meet up in person you are supposed to be able to converse face to face right? That we are not still in cyberland…..did nt he? I looked at him again (more than likely with a look of horror on my face).  At this point I really could not think of anything I would rather not do. I did not fancy him at all, there was no connection, no spark and to be honest he actually was starting to freak me out!  I could not understand how he had read this situation so badly.  Surely the absence of my response and the look I gave him was enough for him to understand that this was no the way to approach a situation? APPARENTLY NOT!!!

Before I could do or say anything he lunged towards me, and I did only what I could have done in this desperate situation-I grabbed the scarf tied around my neck, and pulled it up over my face and said:

“NO, I REALLY DO NOT WANT TO!”

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My date looked wounded, like a child who’d been told off for stealing biscuits out of the biscuit tin.  He replied “Really?”.  Erm, let me take a minute this think about this………YES, REALLY! I had been hemmed into a corner, subjected to his family album and epic tedious stories about people, of whom I had no idea who they were, pictures of chocolate teeth, and to top it off a text message whilst he was sat next to me. This was embarrassing enough, but then to have to create a diversion so as to not have to kiss him was more than my nerves could take.  I felt as though I was on the verge of a panic attack. Overall I think anyone would probably agree this was not a great first date!  We sat there in silence for what felt like a life time in itself(probably about three seconds) and all I could think about what what I could say so he would let me get away.

“So……erm…..I’ve lots to do before work tomorrow, I am sorry but I need to leave.”

I managed in a slightly nervous squeaky voice.  With this I shoved my way out of the corner and practically ran through the door.  This was the last time I saw this man and the last time I engaged in online dating.

I’m pretty sure Valentine’s day for me is jinxed.

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Related Article:

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/10/writing-challenge-valentine/?blogsub=confirmed#blog_subscription-3

My Funny Valentine: Weekly Writing Challenge

Finally Seeking my Daniel Cleaver

http://www.theproblemismen.com/rants/badboys

I read an article this morning, and it really got me thinking. The link for the said article is above, check it out it’s a very interesting read although do me a favour…..wait until you have finished mine 😉

bad boy

Until fairly recently, I was one of those women that always chose a bad guy.  Bad guys ranging from down right little toe rags who eventually ended up in prison (thankfully after I had seen sense and had nothing else to do with them) to the ones who were emotionally unavailable and sometimes manipulative and abusive.  They generally were very hot (though not all were model look alikes), had an air of cockiness about them and nine times out of ten were great in bed. But all turned out to be the same, once they had me hooked they turned off the charm, the cockiness became arrogance and my pride and confidence once again dwindled.

It was not until I began studying Psychology that I began to consider why it was that I chose this particular type of man.  I could only watch on in envy as my girlfriends settled down with reliable, dependable men and built a life and a family together.  Instead I was left picking up the pieces of yet another failed ‘relationship’ where it had fallen apart because I was nt getting from it what I wanted.

Since my divorce in 2011, I began to look at what was going wrong. Previously it was all too easy for me to blame the man because he did this or that (or indeed he did nothing at all).  Coincidently this tied in with when I began my degree.  I began to learn about attachment and I quickly began to understand that the cause of my obsession with ‘bad boys’ developed due to the poor relationship with my father.  I loved my dad growing up, but due to the separation of my parents I did not see him that often.  In his past he was a bouncer and probably classed as a ‘bad boy’ himself and I really believe that I was looking for that, for some sort of compensation.

Since realising why I was always attracted to a certain type of man, I have taken the time to be on my own to work out what I really want.  Whilst taking this time, I must admit I developed quite an obsession with the likes of ‘Bridget Jones’ Diary just for the pure fact she also came to her senses by the time she was in her thirties and finally chose the ‘nice’ man.  The thing is the ‘nice’ man is the man that treats you right, who is emotionally available and wants to be with you.  The man who does not make you feel insecure, always second guessing whether you are together or what he is up to. It does not mean they are less appealing.  For this valentines I am pleased to say I have chosen a ‘Daniel Cleaver’.  He is a nice guy, he shows me interest, he is chasing me….but guess what he is also very good looking, very interesting, sexy as hell and the funniest guy I know!

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Related Article:

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/10/writing-challenge-valentine/?blogsub=confirmed#blog_subscription-3