Tag Archives: writing

Something Else.

Something Else. 



You still there?

You’re a patient one aren’t you.  I’ve been gone for a bit haven’t I.  Well you see, life gets in the way sometimes and in typical me-fashion, I’ve been distracted.  It’s the sparkly things that …..

‘Oooh!  What’s that over there?’  ‘Do I see a sparkly thing?’

*disappears for another month*

I’m very sorry for being a slacker.  You know when you don’t see someone for a long time and it’s a bit awkward trying to start a conversation again?  That’s me.  I just got a bit disillusioned with writing and this blogging malarkey, so I decided to make crafty stuff for a bit.  It’s been very hard to come back to this, but I’m here.  Writing is like breathing for me, I can’t survive without doing it for too long.   So, if you’re still willing to listen, I’m still willing to write.   Even if you’re not, I’ll probably just do it anyway.


I made this, even the chain and the swirly bits! This is one of the sparkly things that filled the writing gap for a while.

My kids are getting older too, Darlek is nearly 9 and Sausage is 5.  They deserve their privacy now.  Their friends are starting to amble around the tinternet.   It’s maybe time to stop.  This limits my material to be honest.  I’ve had to reconsider things a little.  Maybe I should write about other things now.  Like puddings or summat, god help me.  I’m terrible at cooking.  Perhaps not.

I get most of my ‘hits’ from people accidentally landing on this blog whilst searching for images of Postman Pat believe it or not.  If I wrote new plot lines for Pat, and uploaded thirty odd images of Jess the Cat and friends every day I’d have a mega successful blog with lots of traffic. It’d be crap though.

We have a new kitty, maybe I should start 'The Kitty Chronicles.'

We have a new kitty, maybe I should start ‘The Kitty Chronicles.’

I'm not having any more kids because, although I love 'em, they drive me a bit nuts.  So, here's my new furry baby.  We'll be picking him up next week.  What do you think of 'The Doggy Diaries'?

I’m not having any more kids because, although I love ’em, they drive me a bit nuts. So, here’s my new furry baby. We’ll be picking him up next week. What do you think of ‘The Doggy Diaries’?  Yay?  Nay?  His mates can’t use the internet so they won’t be able to tease him when I write about how he threw up after eating a two week old dead seagull.

So…well….I’ve not exactly lost my mojo, I’m just in the process of finding a new one.  I’m going to have to do ‘Something Else.’

Either way, I’m back.  Hello keyboard, old friend.  I have missed you.


This is why I do what I do.

This is why I do what I do.


This morning I was tidying Darlek’s room and I found a note.  It was just strewn on the floor along with a load of other bits of paper.   It’s a bit hard to read, so I’ll translate.  It says ‘To Mum, to mum, you are so kind and helpful, you brighten up my day every second I spend with you I treasure.’  There is a bit crossed out and a half  sentence that doesn’t go anywhere so I’ve left that bit out.

Make no mistake, I sat on her floor, surrounded by a mass of toys and clothes that needed putting away….and I cried.  A second or so ago I’d been muttering under my breath about how annoyed I was about all the mess.

This is why I cook, clean, worry, save, strive…..for love.  This scrawled, misspelt, abandoned, untidy little bit of paper makes everything worthwhile.   It’s nice to be reminded of that sometimes.

How it is.

How it is.

This week is Crohns and Colitis Awareness week, I wrote this as part of my contribution.

I read a post recently about how if you want to write passionately then write about things that mean something to you, about things that challenge you, about things you wouldn’t normally write about because they’re too close to you.  I suppose it basically means write with your heart on your sleeve.  Unfortunately, for me that means writing with my arse on my sleeve.  I’ve not posted much recently because my whole mindset and everything has been taken up with feeling  either in pain, worried sick or sleeping too much because I don’t want to be awake. Ulcerative Colitis is nasty and has kicked me quite hard recently.  Anyway. I will do toy posts and happy posts and pictures of craft things and wierd recipes again soon, I just need to make sure my head is in the right place.

The kids are fine, Darlek performed carols with the choir today at a local church along with kids from a load of other schools.  She smiled all the way through, knew all the words and looked so grown up amongst all the other children.  Sausage sat next to me smelling like a sewer (he had an accident just before we got there) and tried to cover my mouth with his hands because he didn’t want me to sing. I know I don’t have a great singing voice, but I was a teeny bit put out.   It was also a bit distracting when he mimed pulling my ears off mid ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful.’  That’s the nice bit.

This is the bit that makes me feel a bit wobbly.  Stop here if you don’t want to hear about how I’m coping with things below the surface.

Do you ever feel like it’s all just a bit much? Today for example, my ulcerative colitis is acting up, as it has done for months now.  Sat on the loo, blood drip, drip dripping like a tap just before it starts flowing properly. Sharp stabbing pain where the sun don’t shine. Nuzzling a nearby jumper because it eases the pain somehow. Spend ages waiting for the blood drips to slow down so I can run off and find a camera so I have actual proof of how bad this is so I can show it to my consultant. Bleed all down my legs, find a blood clot on the wall somehow which needs wiping off. Take a photo of a loo that looks like red paint has been poured down it. Listen to the kids downstairs and wonder how much blood you can lose before you become queasy or faint and hope that my 7 year old daughter knows how to dial 999 or what my parent’s phone number is at least. Flush the loo, and then flush it again because it’s still a nice shade of sunset and the kid’s will wonder why the loo is a funny colour. Stand up, make myself look presentable, wipe the blood off the loo seat. Go downstairs. Carry on as normal. Thank god this is only once a day.

Inspired Just a Little

Inspired Just a Little

It’s 10.30am, the kids are in school, I am alone with a keyboard and a cup of tea.  Dangerous territory.  Should I abandon the keyboard and do another load of washing, should I scrape the crumbs from the breakfast table and go empty the bin?  Hell no.  I’m going to sit here and write.  I’ll do that stuff later when the blood has stopped pumping through my veins.

I’ve been reading ‘Sirens’ which is the book that inspired the TV series if any of you have seen it.  It was originally a blog and it is written as such in the book, with all the visceral passion, humour and heartbreak plain to see.  The writer is an ambulance driver in London and documents his daily life with all the blood, sweat and tears – all the laughs, the sad bits, the funny bits and the thoughtful bits.  Love it, love it, love it!  It has reminded me of the power of blogging.  You see someone else’s life, feel what they’re feeling and look through a window into their world for a while.  I’ll tell you something for nothing, I’m no ambulance driver, I don’t deal with life and death on a daily basis and I don’t fart carelessly in the face of HIV and  heart attacks, but goddamit, I have my own world which is worth writing about.

I’m inspired to write again just for today at least.  I want my own housewifey mini dramas and sick bug traumas recorded and written down and stamped on paper.  Just because.  I will record these days, I will keep up with diarising everything, I will bear my soul for you to laugh at and sympathise with. (I hope!).  I can’t even hope to write as well as that author or be as exciting as him but fekkit, I can write with passion. So here you go, a heartfelt promise that I’ll keep up with this blog of mine.  I do hope you’ll stay with me for the journey.

I don’t have an ambulance, but I do have these legs of mine to carry me from place to place, and today I’ll be using them a lot I suspect.  Both kids have gone into school, one with belly ache and the other with a dodgy tummy.  Sausage has a spare pair of pants with him due to an unfortunate incident that must have nearly gassed his classmates yesterday and Darlek has had a lot of hugs and some Calpol to keep her going.  I’m sat here waiting for the phone to ring, I’m fairly sure I’ll have to amble down the road to pick one or the other of them up some time soon.

‘Mrs Wilkinson, your son smells very bad and we don’t want to go near him.  Please pick him up, we’ve left him in the playground and have closed all the windows and doors so the smell can’t get back in.  Thank you.’

I’m expecting a message that goes something along those lines anyway.  Yesterday I had to go and pick him up early, along with a plastic bag full of soiled clothes, poor love.  He’s not had an accident for months now, his tummy must have been so upset.  Horace drove me up the road to get him, the journey back involved me literally hanging the plastic bag outside of the car window, hooked on an index finger.  I swear if I’d have carried it in the car it would have knocked us unconscious within 2 minutes.

Darlek was in tears on the school run this morning, so we walked holding hands most of the way.  I didn’t want to take her in, but it’s only week 3 back in the old routine and after last year I want to make sure her attendance is as good as it can be.  She got very good at ‘being poorly’ last year and I had the fleece pulled over my eyes more times than I care to mention, so I’m being more assertive this year.

‘Can you walk?  Well, off to school you go!’

I felt like a complete bitch.  At least the teacher knows that if Darlek feels any worse she can come home. Honestly if that phone rings, I shall pounce on it!

OK, so I said I was inspired to write.  I’m also inspired to have a cleaner, tidier home.  Now I’ve done my ‘ I’m a mum, I SHALL write about the sh*ts and the giggles.  Hear me ROAR!’ thing’………I really should go do something vaguely useful.

On with the crumbs and the dishwasher!  I might rattle the cutlery in the dishwasher a little, in a tuneful, rattly kind of manner to make the whole experience more interesting.  I’m not being sarcastic, would I do a thing like that?



This wasn’t June 1982, this was yesterday btw. The photo just arrived captioned like this.

I love this photograph.  Darlek has become a lot more confident with her reading, writing and spelling –  she even attempted Scrabble on her dad’s iPad yesterday.  This is a picture of her battling against the computer, with me faithfully on her side trying my best to help.  Considering how she’s struggled to get her head around spelling and sentences and the like, I was so impressed with her casual determination.

Not all of the words she came up with made sense, they weren’t all spelt correctly, but a lot of them were absolutely fine and fitted in well.  She has, as they say ‘cracked it!’   With her typical ‘I’ll have a go!’ attitude she dived into the game and  gave her all.  There was no ‘I can’t do this!’ or even a hint of a defeatist attitude – although she did of course try to get me to do some for her, as they do.  She wanted to win, and she wanted to use the knowledge she has gained and put it into practise.  Eventually she got bored, but it took quite a while for her to lose interest, and it was only because she was nosey about what her brother was doing that she gave up.  Needless to say she didn’t beat the iPad, but she tried.   I am very, very proud of her for that.

Darlek loves music and often loves to play her favourite songs, with the words on the computer screen so she can sing along now.  She reads shop signs, picks up books and absent-mindedly reads the covers, attempts shopping lists, pretends to lose her voice and writes me notes on scraps of paper, wants to write her birthday cards herself and the list of little triumphs goes on.

Maths has come easy to her, but english has not, and I have worried about her  intellectual inheritance if you can call it that.  Her dad has dyslexia, and I have a close family member who has struggled with the same condition all her life.  I’ll admit I worried Darlek would follow in their footsteps.  But after seeing her this weekend, switching her letters around, tweaking the word sounds, manipulating her knowledge into the Scrabble grid – I’m content to relax a little on her behalf.

Little victories mean a lot, to me and to Darlek too.  I must be doing something right if she’s doing alright.  My baby can play Scrabble now, how cool is that!  I’ll get her on Countdown before she’s 15, just see if I don’t! Right now I’m imagining my daughter stuck in a hothouse, feet dug into a ton of soil in a massive over-sized plantpot, soaking up words and numbers.  She’s growing up beautifully and blooming. :O)

An Excess of Toothbrushes

An Excess of Toothbrushes

Well it seems this E-Cig business is more confusing than I thought.  On two occassions now I’ve casually picked up a biro and tried to smoke it.  I think I must be having one of ‘those days.’  As you do!  Least I’ve not reached for a real one.

In fact it’s definitely been a back to front day.  Today I’ve been wearing a green and red stripey sock and a plain black sock.  I usually manage different shades of black or grey socks at the very least, even if they are from different pairs.  I suppose I should be thankful that I haven’t ended up with my tee shirt on back to front and my pants on inside out too.  Maybe I do have something to be grateful for after all.

I think I’m over tired.  I’ve not done much today, but my brain has been in over drive.  Thinking about careers or the lack of them, thinking about where I’m going with what I’m doing or not doing, thinking about how the weather just won’t make its mind up about anything.  Rather like someone else I could mention, ie. me.  Do you know I once spent two tortorous months with six toothbrushes in our toothbrush tub in the bathroom?  I couldn’t decide which to throw in the bin because they all looked reasonable, but we had no need for extra toothbrushes unless our cat decided it needed its teeth cleaning too.   It irritated me intensely that they sat there crowding the tub on the side of the sink but I couldn’t get rid of any of them because of my complete inability to make a decision.  I eventually chucked one of them when I found Sausage ramming it down the plughole and it was covered in black gunk.  Even I had to make a decision then.

I’ve been like that all my life.  When I was at school they used to ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I said I didn’t know, but I quite enjoyed writing and wanted one day to write a book.  Since then nothing much has changed.  I still don’t know and still would quite like to write a book one day.  The problem is about what?  I appear to be writing a very long winded bloggy book about parenting and an excess of toothbrushes.

Dear Father Christmas or the Easter Bunny or Jim’ll Fix It, please could I have a career for Christmas or Easter – or at the very least a sense of direction?  Thanks. I’m off to brush my teeth and go to bed now.  I’m not even sure which is my toothbrush at all, I keep forgetting which colour is mine.  Mind you, at least I know it’s not the blue one shaped like an elephant at the bottom or the orange one that looks like a teddy bear.

Funny in a sad kind of way.  I could never play Pool very well either, I kept forgetting which colour ball I was trying to pot half way through the game.  Story of my life!

A Bulging Bookcase

A Bulging Bookcase

I love reading, always have done.  By the age of 5 I’d read ‘101 Dalmations’ by Dodie Smith – and that’s not the Disney version either.  They are windows into different worlds and I find them fascinating.   Some authors absolutely astonish me with their use of words and language.  Don’t you think it’s amazing that simple shapes and symbols arranged in a certain way on a blank sheet of paper can create whole lives and worlds, with all the heartbreak, ups and downs and twiddly bits in-between?

I’ve just this minute finished reading ‘Me Before You’ by Jojo Moyes (this isn’t a book review by the way).  This evening marks the end of the Easter hols, and the house is falling in pieces around my ears.  Paperwork litters the spare room, washing up needs doing, there’s toys on the floor, the effing bathroom needs cleaning again – but I have done none of it.  ‘Manyana, manyana!’ or whatever the phrase is.  I’ll sort it all tomorrow when the kids are in school and nursery.  Instead of doing all these things I decided to enjoy the last fleeting moments of official ‘time off’ and there’s nothing better than a good read.   I curled up on our huge purple corderoeuy sofa, dragged our rainbow striped fleecey blanket over myself, got a cup of tea and lost myself in the final chapters of the above book.

I lost myself so completely that I couldn’t bear to put the book down, the last chapter had me sobbing my heart out, the tears falling down my cheeks and plopping onto the book.  (I shan’t tell you why in case you decide to read this book yourself).  I’ve laughed and cried at this story, felt the frustrations of the characters and have painted pictures in my head of the places they went to.   To reach the last page was like having to say goodbye to friends I had only just made.

Who needs films when you can see everything so completely in a book?   I’m afraid I’m rather snooty about 3D TV, in a book you get 4D – the characters thoughts are known, their insights and observations, the scenes are drawn out with adjectives and sentences that lead you through places and situations that you couldn’t possibly begin to understand simply through what you ‘see’ in moving pictures.  Give me a good book instead any day!

Our bookcase at the top of the stairs is bulging, there are two layers of books on many of the shelves – some of which stick out and fall off if you brush against them.   I’ve read many of them, but not all.  One day I’ll hopefully read them all, at least I hope so.  Freecycle has been my downfall, I once replied to someone who said they had some books going spare.  We ended up with two carrier bags full of science fiction and fantasy books in various states of disrepair.  Probably not everyone’s cup of tea, but I look at each one as a world waiting to be discovered.  My kids look at them as ammunition for throwing at doors when one or the other has shut them out of the bathroom or their bedrooms.  I’m always so narked when I hear a loud ‘THUNK’ and a yell as Sausage chucks them at his sister’s door.   One day my son will learn that books are more than just ammunition I hope.

Darlek has begun to see a little of what I see in books.  She loves her bedtime stories and I’m finding them a pleasure to read – now that she’s moved on to literature that is a little more interesting than ‘What noise does a cow make?’ kind of books.  We’re currently reading ‘The Valley of Adventure’ by Enid Blyton, and for all her faults Enid did know how to tap into a child’s imagination.  They are a tad twee and are dated in some ways, but as I read them over as an adult, I can still feel some of the childlike excitement I used to as the adventures unfold.  Kiki the parrot still cracks me up.  That’s probably a claim to shame to be honest! Ah well, we can’t all be blessed with a mature sense of humour.

As the years go by, I’ll probably end up annoyed with Darlek nicking my make-up and my clothes (if she’s incredibly un-trendy that is), but I’ll be ever so pleased if she nicks my books.  They give you such amazing insights into places and people real and imaginary.  I can’t wait for her to read the Lord of the Rings (maybe she’ll love it, maybe she’ll hate it….) so we can exchange shivers at the thought of the Ringwraiths chasing Frodo in the flight from Rivendell.

Oh books!  Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day!  (well, apart from Stephen King and maybe Irvine Welsh, that would just be daft – I don’t tend to read scary or disturbing books, they either scare the crap out of me or haunt my thoughts at Silly O’Clock in the morning).

I have no excuse for not going to bed now, or at least tidying the kitchen.  So there are many reasons why I am sad that the book ended.  Might have to find another one now or face the washing up.  *Kay desperately scours the overstuffed bookcase*