Birthdays

I don't work on my birthday - haven't for years. It's not just that I'm against working on my birthday (which I am, avoids all the fuss) - I just don't want to tempt fate.
Last time I worked on my birthday I was alone in the department (joys of lunch time - one staff member at lunch, the other running an errand, and me on desk) - wearing fairy wings & a tiara - hey, it was my birthday!
My working day ended at the police station, giving evidence after stepping in to an attempted bag snatching/assault in the women's toilets beside our desk. The sounds of screaming gave it away.
When, eventually, the errand-running staff member came back I said - 'next time you ask if I'll be ok by myself for a few minutes, the answer is no!'
Added to the fun was most of the senior managers were on a 'bonding exercise' or something. So ringing reception for one was entertaining. I started going down the list but by 3 names, had given up and said 'I've just prevented an assault, and I need a manager.' There was one very quickly found. Thank goodness for the senior staff member on the floor below who heard the screaming and came running upstairs. The weirdness of acoustics! The staff on the other side of the floor hadn't heard a thing!
The interviewing officer - at the station - wasn't one of the arresting officers, so was a bit nonplussed when an arresting officer walked past the interview room and said 'you look different without your wings.'
My family had visions of the girl I rescued telling everyone about how this guardian angel swooped in and saved her.
The interviewing officer was impressed with my description of the assailant. I'm such a girl I said her pale blue eyeshadow matched her faded denim jacket. And, when I said she'd tried to leave the scene to get her kids, he said 'she didn't have kids last time I arrested her.'
Fun and games at the public library...
All in a day's work.
And that's why I stay at home on my birthday...

Holiday calls...

I'm on holiday... and trying to stay away from the computer...

Unfortunately I'm NOT on a tropical beach somewhere...

PS Go the Mighty Vodafone Warriors! [to be said in the style of the Mad Butcher]

The empty space

I tried doing this post for Fathers Day, but couldn't find the photo in time... so, a week late...

Last year we had an inorganic rubbish collection and, amongst other things, my flatmate put out Dad's concrete mixer, which he'd inherited. It was old - rusty - pretty nearly unworkable. I thought I'd better get a photo of it, so I could scrapbook it - and all the memories that went along side it. Hearing it go meant Dad was at home, working. Many hours I spent down by Dad's workshop as a little kid, watching, mucking around. There was a period when Dad would put swirls of paint into water in the wheelbarrow and I'd make marbled paper. The concrete mixer was one of the sounds of home.

So, out I went to take a photo, only... there was an empty space.

I was upset that I'd missed the opportunity. Then realised how much more symbolic it was. A photo of the empty space where the concrete mixer had been.

A symbol of the emptiness where Dad had been. How grateful I am that there were no missed opportunities with Dad. That he had been dying for a period that allowed (most of) us to make sure he knew we loved him. That we'd had a chance to be with him. To laugh and to cry. And to share.

As always Dad, I miss you and love you.

Top Gear fun

A conversation last night reminded me of this moment of Top Gear fun...

Thoughts on family

Due to the evils of work - I missed the biannual working bee up north - and the glorious flowering bulbs on Dad's grave.
I missed the camaraderie of my mad family while we work like navvies - digging holes, weeding gardens, concreting posts, moving concrete...
I missed the chats and reminiscences. The jokes and pranks. The sheer silliness of us being together.
And people wonder why I'm so close to them. Why I spend every second Sunday with the sisters (as many as possible). Why we prefer to sit together at an extended family gathering, instead of catching up with relatives we don't see that much.
Because they're my friends.
Because the shared history we have - the shared love - the shared stories - the shared joys (and jokes and pranks) - and the shared sorrows - has made us a whole.
Because our parents made us that way.
Because my sisters married men who fit in - although, as Muzz has been in the family only 6 months less than me - he's blood now.
Because each of us sorrow and grieve for the sibling outside the circle. Grieve for the roads and choices that have made it difficult for us to be truly whole again.
Because, although each of us had/have a very individual relationship with Dad and Mum - we shared them. Every weird, kooky, loving moment.
Who else understands that history? Those joys? Those sorrows?
Who else can understand the visceral reaction I have to the smell of that icky pink stuff used in tiling? Why that - and the sound of a concrete mixer - means home?
And, by understand - I mean, truly understand. Without words. Without explanation.
They are my family.
They are my life.
They make me whole.

Happy birthday to...

this blog!

I know it started some time in September last year... but I've deleted all those early posts (related to work stuff....)
A whole year of friends, family and workmates actually visiting and reading the thoughts out of my strange wee head... Who'd have thunk!
Highlights of the year... in my opinion, anyhoo
Cute widdle duckies last spring
My fav coat - and I still get favourable comments
Days of our lives
Charlie & Lola madness (PS my 2009 diary is already organised...)
Genre blindness and again
Dad's birthday
Eddie Izzard
Sean Connery
Beading success!