Why Haven’t I Written?

Oct 8, 2024 S_MW 5 Comments

It’s been so long since I wrote anything and by anything I honestly mean I have barely even written a shopping list. In fact, even the shopping lists I’ve scribbled on a bit of scrap paper were discarded or lost before use. What’s happened to me?

That’s rhetorical because nothing has really happened.

A few days ago I got a notification from JetPack or WordPress or whoever they or it is informing me of a friend’s new post. Then I saw more posts and THEN I discovered comments that I hadn’t known of on a negative blurb I’d posted over a year ago!

What the Hell?

How had I let that happen?

I don’t know, actually, but writing helped to unscramble all the shit in my head and it forced me to share it with y’all (btw, I’m not American and never say “y’all”, but it’s a great abbreviation, so…). It helped me crawl out of the black hole I’d fallen into all those years before.

Along with photography and my art, writing saved me.

I haven’t drawn or painted or written for a long, long time. Most of the photos I’ve taken are on my phone and 80% of them have never been seen. I rarely even use Instagram anymore. Even as I’m writing this I can’t be sure that it’ll make it out of my drafts. I must TRY to get this out of the drafts. There are too many other drafts in the draft box!

I’m compelled to post this but only as an apology, or as a precursor to an actual post (hopefully). The actual post that I want to write is witty and profound and all the things that I’ve been missing for years. Life isn’t so hard for me but it is for others and I’m not sure where to start, what to include or miss out and time’s tight right now too.

I’d say watch this space, but I don’t want to put any pressure on anyone.

Fingers are crossed though!

🩵💙

Continue reading →

Real Life

Oh, Bumholes!

Jun 12, 2023 S_MW 15 Comments

Haven’t written, (drawn or painted!) in such a long time and, although I’m sad about that, it is what it is. My life has changed enormously yet I have nothing to say about it, can’t illustrate it in ANY way and in all honesty, I’m overwhelmed with how crap it all is. I try so hard not to be negative but deep down I’m becoming cynical, something I find unattractive in others. I’m not sure what to do?!

To top it all off though, I get a notification from WordPress about the Jetpack plugin. On researching it, I discover that I may not even need it, but seem unable to deactivate it. It’s yet another ‘thing’ that I feel powerless to control << recurring theme.

I don’t want to lose my blog. I’ve a huge amount of writing here and genuinely thought I’d just pick up where I left off and start writing again…someday! (today should/could be that day, but I fear this is NOT it)

Apologies for the moany, cryptic non-blog. Hopefully this might kick off something in me. Peace & Love

Real Life

Time

Jun 20, 2022 S_MW 4 Comments

I forgot how time consuming writing can be

TV went on standby 3 times and the screen saver is annoying

I should’ve gone to the toilet 2 hours ago

I’ve been hungry 4 times but the feeling always passed

It came back briefly 2 minutes ago as I was writing this

My stomach rumbled and then made a loud gurgling sound before falling silent

It may have given up expressing itself, but I won’t hold my breath

Holding ones breath does not suppress hunger but it does stop hiccups

Well, it works for me

It was light outside when I started writing the last blog

It was dark when I finished it approximately 1 hour ago

Why am I still awake and doubting myself?

The traffic was regular and noisy at the beginning so I closed the window

Now there is approximately 1 car going past every 5 minutes

I’m leaving the window closed now

I might go and look in fridge now even though it’s almost 1am and I shouldn’t eat anything this late

The TV finally switched itself off without warning me first

Maybe that’s a hint that I should switch myself off…?

Real Life

He’s Not Here

Jun 19, 2022 S_MW 4 Comments

Growing up, there was always a vast library of books in our house. Mum read to us a lot when we were young, not just picture books or short stories but novels such as Heidi, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Peter Pan, Oliver Twist and The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe. We shared a room back then and would snuggle up to mum in one bed as she read us a chapter or two each night. She was a beautifully expressive reader and it enthralled me.

As we grew up we were always encouraged to read and I was a voracious reader, my brother less so. I recall him reading encyclopedic type books [coincidentally, my own son had a predilection for these types of books too – on camping trips he would read aloud to me and his sisters, regaling us with random facts] whereas I was more interested in fiction then. Unlike Mum, I wasn’t a huge fan of the classics however. Novels from The Bronte’s, Jane Austen and Louisa May Alcott left me cold and have to this day (I have never enjoyed the film adaptations either). It made me feel terribly guilty as I knew mum was disappointed I didn’t share her love of such books, but it was what it was. Dad probably read more than any of us. If he wasn’t drawing he’d be reading in an easy chair and once in bed he’d read into the early hours. To save keeping Mum awake he’d lie on his stomach in bed, book on the floor under an angle-poised lamp to minimise the light in the room. He’d often fall asleep reading that way, his glasses having slid down his nose. He read all kinds of books and factual magazines about the World Wars etc. and I didn’t pay much attention to them…until I did! Unlike mum and I he was a really slow reader. He once told me that he read every single word and every punctuation mark. If he didn’t understand a paragraph, for instance, he would go back and read it again and again until it made sense. His general knowledge was incredible because of this. I read at double time, can skim read (two pages at once) but I lack dad’s precision in retaining information. I’d be a terrible spy. P.s. that’s never been an option. 😉

Dad read most of his books more than once and often had two or three on the go at a time, a thing I could never do. They were often dogeared, the spines cracked from being forced open but they were well read and he loved them that way. If and when he was done reading a book, it’d be relegated to a pile which would eventually be taken to a second-hand bookstore and exchanged for a pile of more books. To this day I cannot pass such a bookstore, nor can I leave it without purchasing a dogeared, cracked-spined book – I may never read that book, but the joy of having it in my possession is…indescribable. I am my Dad’s daughter.

One day, when I was about thirteen I started looking through the house for some new reading material and found Dad’s collection of old paperbacks for what must’ve been the first time. There were some that left me cold but then I found a collection – of sorts – by an author, Ed McBain [Evan Hunter]. I only ever read a whole book if the first few lines grab me and these books did that. They could be a bit risqué at times with adult themes and language I was unaccustomed to (teenagers grow up quicker nowadays) so it’s likely that I read them in relative secret to begin with, but eventually I shared my excitement with Dad.

Now that I have my own kids, I know what a thrill it is to discover a common interest with them.

Although the books are fictional they were clearly factually inspired and so began my love affair with any other crime based books of that ilk.

Besides the books we enjoyed, we also became avid crime drama watchers. We loved American shows like Columbo and Starsky & Hutch or The Sweeney and The Professionals from the UK.

Although I wasn’t the biggest fan, Dad and I were thrilled when Hill St Blues began, especially as we were convinced that the show was based on McBain’s novels!

Ed McBain wasn’t as thrilled however.

Credit to Paul Abbott https://crimereads.com/did-hill-street-blues-rip-off-ed-mcbains-87th-precinct-series/

I left home in 1982 by which time there was a greater viewing choice on television but I was rarely in to watch it. I was an occasional student with an excellent social life who only went home sometimes at weekends and in the holidays. Once there, of course, the television was my main source of entertainment…albeit with only 4 channels! #backintheday

In my absence Dad had begun to watch Inspector Morse, A Touch of Frost and the like. I loved them too but was still socially active so rarely watched them unless I went back home. Things changed a little when I settled down in the late 80’s. We bought our first home, got cable and I became more interested in the music & movie channels with little time for anything else. I was still reading but that had taken a huge back seat. When I had my first child in ’94 I stopped reading altogether. In all honesty I didn’t have the time but I never did anything for myself.

The Great Depression 1994 – 2007ish

I don’t want to dwell on the above, not in this blog at least, but it is relevant. The joy had been largely sucked out of my life with the arrival of the black dog. Old pleasures just…went. I can’t recall much of what happened during those years so it’s a delight to me when I DO remember something, however small a memory it may be.

In 1993 – a year before I had my daughter and was still of sound mind – a new series appeared on our screens and Dad and I were glued to it. It became a must see every week (I so love now because you can binge watch seasons of a show!) Steven Bochco (of H.S.B. fame) then wrote for NYPD Blue. The similarities are obvious but I became more invested in NY because of the actors (especially 💜 Dennis Franz), the characters and because Dad loved it too. The show was axed in 2005 much to our disgust. Then Dad died and I took ownership of a number of Dad’s Ed McBain books – they meant nothing to Mum but I will never part with them.

Having the books again reminded me of NY. I considered ordering the tv box set but it was too expensive. I’ve never stopped searching for it though and just over a week ago I discovered it was streaming on Disney+ of all places (as a scattered family we each stream and share various channels).

I began watching the pilot expecting that I wouldn’t remember large chunks of it, but it was so familiar to me. I was delighted but I was unprepared for the emotional impact it would have on me. I’m on Season 2 now. I have laughed out loud, had tears streaming down my face, have been shocked at the blunt language and by some of the political correctness of it…

and I don’t want it to end.

And although watching this show again makes me really happy, it’s tinged with sadness because I want, no, need to call my Dad. There are so many things, funny lines or poignant scenes that I want to tell him about, I want to share the funny or shocking things with him…and he’s not here anymore.

Real Life

Sleeping Alone

May 31, 2022 S_MW 11 Comments

Our bed had seen better days so I headed off to find a replacement. The king sized mattress we’d had since buying our first home all those years before, now had springs coming up through it.

In our beginning we had rented a flat with a double bed and his feet dangled off the end of it. In the early morning our cat, Batman would play with his bare toes which woke him up and annoyed him greatly.

The long-legged one stayed at home as usual, confident in my bed buying abilities. I wasn’t messing around! I knew what I was looking for and chose something quickly. Seeing all hope of making a better sale drift away the shrewd owner of the store persuaded me to lie down on a mattress that was strategically placed between the bargain beds and the cash register. He knew what he was doing, of course! I had never lain on anything as comfortable as that and, in spite of the fact that I wouldn’t be able to afford to eat for a few weeks, I bought it immediately. It was like floating on a cloud and it was love at first sprawl.

However, as pleased as I was with my purchase, the long-legged one hated it on sight. He said it was too hot and not supportive enough.

But I always suspected that he disliked more than just the bed and it didn’t take long before he proved me right and vacated it altogether.

So I slept alone for many years and when I finally decided to leave I was determined to take the mattress with me. He didn’t contest it but it wasn’t lost on me when he purchased an almost identical mattress after I’d gone! But I’m not bitter. We’re good friends now, which I’m really glad about.

I love sleeping alone and I’m actually sure that I will never share a bed again, even if it’s taken me years to embrace the whole bed. Most mornings I still waken up on the right side but it always makes me smile that I can lie anywhere I damn well want on it.

Real Life

Mercy Dash With Cash & Cake

Nov 21, 2021 S_MW 3 Comments

Reblog from November 2018

The pains in my stomach

are just the remnants of a sickness bug

and

I wince out loud when I’m alone

and in silence

as I ferry kids about town

I mercy dash with cash and cake

He’s shivering with the cold and I know he just wants to go back inside but I ask

“Do you want to sit in the car with me or..?”

I don’t finish the sentence ’cause I’m trying not to make it awkward for him and he’s looking at me with guilt and love as he says:

“Thought you’d just want to get home now…”

I don’t really.

I don’t ever want to go back there

so I smile until he’s

out of sight and

then I let the tears fall

At the Harbour the bright lights from the ships dance like rainbows in the oily water

and in dimly lit side streets I drive round shadowy corners where ladies of the night stand hunched up in mini skirts and oversized hoodies

A guy in a wheelchair sits outside his work in the cold and as he puffs on his cigarette the smoke and his breath billows above his head like an enormous thunder cloud

I park at the beach where all the cafes and amusement arcades are

It’s late

Not much is open now

The temperature’s plummeting and I don’t have a coat so I watch from my car as the neon lights go through a mad sequence on the big wheel

The music on the radio doesn’t please me much

So I turn the volume way down

and

listen to the silence instead

I don’t want to go back yet!

[Some things stay the same

Some things don’t]

Allane

Nov ’21

List, Real Life

Pieces of Me – from A to Z

Jul 14, 2021 S_MW 6 Comments

Reblog – from a year ago

A is for Arse

I was am never going to win Rear of the Year. It’s definitely not my best feature. In fact, at my heaviest, it looked like the back end of a large bus. I lost 5 stones in 3.5 months when I had bariatric surgery in 2014, but I gained a whole load of excess skin. One day I looked at myself naked in a full length mirror and instead of being disgusted by my appearance, I was instantly amused! My arse looked just like a Shar-Pei dog.

B is for Bicycles & Balloons

I am a horrible cyclist. I don’t understand the gears, hate going fast down hills and it’s fairly likely that I’ve forgotten everything I learned in my cycling proficiency test.

I hate balloons, or rather I am afraid of them. I am ~~afraid~~ terrified they’ll burst in my face. The thought of that popping noise makes me want to cry but I also dislike the squeaky noise when fingers are rubbed on the latex and the godawful sound of air escaping from them. Oh, and I hate the feel of them. #shudder

Clowns who make balloon animals are arseholes. They are not funny! i.m.o.

C is for Control & Clowns

I am a bit of a control freak. I do like things done MY way, but in my defence, I wasnt always that way. Having a partner who never made decisions meant I had to make every single one. It just morphed into a flaw.

Clowns are not funny (see above).

D is for Decision Making

I am an excellent decider, but it’s exhausting. Occasionally I get really overwhelmed with life, especially if I’m having money worries and at those times I just wish someone else would take over and decide shit for me.

E is for Eyesight

Mine is deteriorating rapidly. i.e. I need new glasses.

F is for Fuck Facial Hair

I have PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome) and one of the symptoms is excess facial hair. This is the one thing about myself that most upsets and embarrasses me, as much as I try and laugh it off. Everyone says they can’t SEE it…but that’s because I work so hard to remove and hide it.

There’s no cure for PCOS. It’s linked to Diabetes (which I also had, but reversed by changing my diet). Unfortunately, it didn’t reverse the EPCOSS (Effing PieCe Of Shit Syndrome) and I’m stuck with a hairy face for all eternity.

G is for Good Manners

I have excellent manners and I really can’t abide people who don’t. It doesn’t cost anything to say please and thank you or to get off your sodding phone when a checkout operator is serving you!

H is for Hardcore

I’m the least hardcore person you will ever meet, but I just like the word.

[p.s. I am not into porn]

I is for Italy

Anyone who really knows me knows that I have a deep love for Italy, the country and all the other associated things to do with it. I first visited Italy with dad when I was in my early twenties. We travelled over from the UK by car and stayed in a town called Cannobio on Lake Maggiore for a month. I’ve never been back there, but I try to get back to Italy as much as I can afford. My heart is well and truly there!

J is for Jokes

I love a good laugh and a good sense of humour attracts me more to a person than anything else. I am fortunate to be surrounded by friends and family who feel the same.

However, I’m not a huge fan of practical jokes and am particularly averse to serial joke tellers…those “hey, I’ve got another one” jokers. I do love stand-up comedians though, especially if they are observational. Funny stories (distinctly different from “boom boom” jokes) are what’s funny to me.

K is for Killers

I have a fascination for serial killers and true crime. Even if I know that 80% of people are as fascinated as me, there are still the 20% who think I’m a morbid freak. I’m not, but it amuses me to have them think it.

Recently I met a guy who tried to educate me about Ted Bundy.

Pah…like I don’t already know, dude!?

L is for Loyalty

I am incredibly loyal to people I love and sometimes, even to people and businesses that don’t necessarily deserve my loyalty. I have been known to travel further and longer to see a person or buy a particular product.

However, if that loyalty is not reciprocated over time or it’s clear my custom is not appreciated, then I will simply walk away. I may be sad, hurt or downright angry, but I’ll never give them the satisfaction of taking me or my loyalty for granted.

M is for Money & Materialism

I am the least materialistic person I know, mainly because I’ve never had a lot of money. Although it’d be nice to have a little more, I genuinely don’t care that much. Actually, I wish more people didn’t give a shit about the stuff.

When I do have more money than usual, I think of how I can spend it on the people I love.

N is for Nightmares

I’ve honestly had one nightmare in my whole life. I don’t recall how old I was, but I was a kid and I lived at home with my parents. Waking up late one night (my folks were still up and watching tv) I recall being convinced that robots had killed my real parents, and had shape-shifted into their bodies. It took them about an hour to calm me down, to convince me they were my actual parents.

I never forgot that night but was transported right back there when Terminator II was released and Todd, Janelle and “Wolfie” met their brutal end. Love that series, btw!

O is for Oversharing

Although my habit of sharing personal information has occasionally helped other people by making them feel less alone, it often makes me want to kick myself in the mouth!

“Stop talking you absolute bam!”

*as heard in my own head

P is for Positive

Whilst I’m not one of those constantly sunny and delighted-by-everything kind of twats, I do have a very positive outlook on life. Having depression for such a long time could’ve permanently sucked the joy out of me, but I was happy once and I knew I could be happy again. My cup doesn’t overflow with wonder but it’s half full rather than half empty. I am a realist and know how hard it is to fake happy if you’re not, but over bitchy, gossip-spreading, snide and bigoted uber-complainers are never going to be on my Xmas card list!

Q is for Quirky

Quirky is something that I wish I was! I adore people who aren’t afraid to be themselves, those who march to the beat to their own drum or who defy social norms, conventions and fashion. They make me want to express myself more. Quirky people who are also blessed with a quirky sense of humour are my idols.

R is for Rosy and Rude

I was born with rosy cheeks. It is, in fact, genetic. On the plus side I have never had to buy blusher or rouge but negatively it is something that rude people feel inclined to point out – as if it were a flaw.

I despise rudeness. People who say “I just tell it how it is” are just giving themselves permission to be rude in advance. I want to respond to “you’ve got a really red face” (true ~~insult~~ story) with “and you’re ugly inside and out”, but I would never say that because…

I’m not rude!

…even if I do have a redder face than most people. 😡

S is for Short

Besides my rosy cheeks I have also inherited the short gene. I have been surprised, in the past, when I’ve met internet friends and they’ve turned out to be a good bit taller than I’d imagined, so I understand why they’re always visibly shocked by how much of a shortarse I am!

However, I married a man who’s 6ft 3, so all 3 of my kids are much, much taller than me. At our wedding, my dad’s speech focused on there being an “injection of new blood” and included the line “up til now, all of my progenitors have looked like they were walking around in a hole”. My 5ft 5 dad was a short, funny man.

T is for Traveller

I don’t need much to make me happy. I would be content to sell everything I have so that I could buy a camper, kit it out as a mobile art studio and go travelling around Europe…for the rest of my days. #deepsigh

U is for Urban Decay

I not only find urban decay beautiful, but it excites and inspires me to create art/photography more than any of the traditionally pretty views or vibrant sunsets. I know I’m not alone in this, but there are way more people who just don’t see it! This doesn’t upset me however. Rather, I feel a bit smug.

V is for Violence & Victims

I detest violence and violent people and have never understood why people feel inclined to hurt another person, especially with guns or knives. Knives and me have a horrible ‘history’ and they scare the crap out of me – but, if someone came at me with one nowadays, I’d be more inclined to scream angrily in their face than cower in fear.

I am a victim no more!!

W is for Writing

After laughter, photography and art, writing has become a necessary part of my life. I am convinced that my mental health would have deteriorated, and may have been irreparably damaged, without the combination of the four.

I never entirely lost my humour, even during my lowest days, but writing was my lifeline back then. It was the precursor to getting back into art and photography and I think it quite literally (if you’ll excuse the pun), saved my life!

Yay for Writing!

X is for eXes

Not all of my exes were arseholes and not all my breakups were bad. I’m a great believer that every relationship I had, good or bad, taught me what I would or would not accept going forward.

Not only that, but it was important that I learnt to accept responsibility for my failings and my part in each breakup. I am far from perfect.

Y is for Yellow

Yellow is the new black right now, it seems. Everywhere you look there are mustard coloured coats or canary coloured cars and whilst most people seem to be embracing the colour, I am not.

I don’t suit the colour yellow at all. It’s something to do with my skin colouring, which is sallow (so my mum told me). Sallow sounds a little more exotic than beige (‘tho it kind of is) and I’ll take that! So, even if I do have a rosy-red face, the rest of me is just a bit ~~sallow~~ beige. Whilst beige and yellow together may look great on people like Heidi Klum, for example, on me, it just looks hideous.

If I had to choose a colour to paint my house, yellow would be the last one I’d pick…in fact, if someone was giving away yellow paint, I’d still decline it.

My grandparents and my dad’s ashes are all interred in the same plot and the gravestone is made of Peterhead Granite, which has a reddish/pinkish hue. When dad would go to lay flowers on the grave, he would always insist on having yellow flowers because they do stand out against the pink stone. My dislike of yellow is irrelevant when it comes to honouring my dad.

Also, I have spoken to many of my customers about this and one of them told me that the cemetery rabbits never eat the yellow flowers on the graves, which appears to be true, for whatever reason?

I love Coldplay. I love nearly everything about them but I hate the song Yellow. I don’t know why I dislike it so much, but hearing it makes my teeth itch. However, when I saw them live on their stadium tour in 2009 they ended the concert with that fucking song (because I am the only person in the free world who hates it) and then they released a shit ton of yellow balloons into the navy blue night sky. It was truly an awesome sight – even if it was my most hated item in my most hated colour!

Z is for Zodiacs

Even if I don’t believe in Astrology and never read or believe that daily horoscope bollox, I cannot help but be amused at how Virgoan I am!

I sent this link to my eldest daughter who is also a Virgo – because of how scarily accurate it is!

Virgo Traits

Real Life

ASHTONBURY

Jul 14, 2021 S_MW Leave a comment

ASHTONBURY

The Reasons Why

Comments, Please, on a Postcard

Jun 21, 2021 S_MW 7 Comments

Devoid of inspiration to write, I’ve just spent an hour or so reading some of my old blogs.

As much as I enjoy my humorous musings, I’m highly critical of my own sad, angst-ridden writing and had to resist the urge to amend/correct/delete 60% of it.

I actually typed 80% first but realised that everything I’ve written meant something to me when I wrote it. As cringy, as painful or as hideous as I find it now, it’s important to have a record of the shit as well as the funny stuff.

More importantly, the action of deleting past blogs would have also deleted some of the most wonderful comments from YOU!

You’re the reason I’ve stayed here so long and YOU are the ones who’ve supported me through some of the shitty times as well as the best times of my life!

Realistically, these are the times that I feel compelled to write! I needed to tell you how much I appreciate you.

So thank you.

You know who you are!

Writing To Reach You – Travis

Real Life

September in May

Jun 14, 2021 S_MW 2 Comments

It’s dusk and I’m sitting watching television

There is nothing on that holds my interest and I get that familiarly fleeting feeling of

S A D

I mute the sound

I prefer being sad in the quiet

In an attempt to cheer myself up I open my sketchbook and flick through the pages of scratchy ink drawings coloured in with watery paint

I smile occasionally if something I’ve drawn appeals to me

but mostly, it’s all a blur

So I put the book down and rest my feet on the footstool as the tv screensaver silently drifts and bobs in front of my eyes

There’s some traffic noise but not as much as usual and I take a deep breath as a sudden breeze rustles through the trees below the open window

And then I hear singing

It’s indistinct but it’s coming closer and there’s laughter too

my favourite combination

I’m intrigued so I go and look out

There’s nothing to see but the singing is getting louder and the giggling is closer now too

“Ba-dee-ya, say, do you remember?
Ba-dee-ya, dancing in September
Ba-dee-ya, never was a cloudy day…”

Four teenage girls come into view, stepping and swaying in time to their perfect harmonies

I move to the other window as they pass by and watch them ’til they go out of view

listen until I can hear no more

The Disco era is mine, but I love that they love it too

I go back and plonk myself on the sofa, rest my feet on the stool and I smile

the SAD is gone

	Jacqueline Lambert @… on Why Haven’t I Written?
	S_MW on Why Haven’t I Written?
	S_MW on Why Haven’t I Written?
	Untipsyteacher on Why Haven’t I Written?
	Jacqueline Lambert @… on Why Haven’t I Written?
	S_MW on Oh, Bumholes!
	Elizabeth on Oh, Bumholes!
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	S_MW on Oh, Bumholes!

SPO_OKY

Why Haven’t I Written?

Oh, Bumholes!

Time

He’s Not Here

Sleeping Alone

Mercy Dash With Cash & Cake

ASHTONBURY

Comments, Please, on a Postcard

September in May

I’m an artist, an illustrator, a photographer, a tinker, a tailor, a mother, a spy