Wednesday 18th March 2009:
I thought I’d better pop in and say thanks to those of you who have emailed lately. My apologies for not replying yet, I haven’t felt much like messing around online. My mother passed away on the last day of February after a long battle with cancer. She’s returned home as they say. Her funeral was on March 5th and was followed by burial in accordance with her wishes. I found it all quite difficult to deal with and I don’t think that’s anything unusual. Funerals by their nature are difficult to deal with, but we all have to do so at some point or another.
I have a couple of Aussie readers and I want to say my thoughts are with you. I hope the terrible fires that are raging in parts of your fine country are brought under control very, very soon.
Anyway, I’ve got lots of things to catch up on, such as ironing, before Dick starts moaning about not having any fresh shirts for work tomorrow.
Talk more another time.
Gilli
Wednesday 26th March 2009:
I just want to send a very sincere thank you and hugs to everyone who sent kind condolences along with pictures, verses, good thoughts and wise words. I appreciated it very much.
In many respects nothing has changed. The days come and go bringing their usual mix of weather and things to be done, but in other ways everything has changed profoundly. I suppose that time will help put things in proportion.
The funeral was just as mum wanted, even so it was difficult, of course it was difficult, funerals are difficult, and frightening because we all end up being the goodbye girl or boy…the Jill or Jack in the box.
The funeral tea afterwards was even more difficult and I didn’t deal particularly well with things. Dick and my friend Lee got me through it and made sure I didn’t make too much of an arse of myself. Mum had told me that she wanted both the boyfriends to attend her funeral so that I had someone to support me, which they gladly did. Afterwards Shane decided, out of respect for Frank’s feelings, that some discretion was required and it was decided that just Dick would accompany me to the pub where the death feast was held.
I actually rowed with mum the day before she died, over Frank. I walked out of the house because I didn’t want to hear what she had to say. I called her when I got home and said sorry and I’m glad that I did, but I wish it hadn’t happened all the same. I found out some things, things I wanted to know more about, but her death has closed and locked the door of enquiry forever. I’ll maybe write about it all one day when it’s less raw.
Mother’s Day was a milestone that came a little too early for me. I remember being in Tesco a couple of days beforehand and thinking ‘I’ll have to get mum a card’ and then getting this feeling like a punch in the guts when I remembered that I no longer had a mother to buy a card for. I have to admit that I put down my basket and walked out of the store before I started crying. I was a complete knob head on the day itself, carping and bitching. In the end Shane lost patience and he just about spanked the backside off me on Sunday evening. It was horrible, but it was also what I needed. I had a good cry, in fact the first really good honest cry since my mother died.
Well, I can’t sit here rambling and whinging all day. I’ve got things to do. We’ve got guests for dinner this evening, not actually FOR dinner, I mean they’re not on the menu or anything; we don’t do cannibalism in this house. I mean we have guests COMING for dinner. Though one hopes they don’t come all over the clean tablecloth or I’ll never get the stains out, honestly some folk have no sense of propriety. Ciao for now.
Sunday 29th March 2009:
Dick has been googling for poo (poogling) on the net today and no I don’t mean he’s been surfing porn sites looking for scat, how dare you even suggest such a thing. I’ll have you know that my Daddies do not do being shat on for sexual kicks, thank you very much, not even Dick is that kinky. Though, don’t get me wrong, if it’s your thing it’s your thing and I fully endorse a person’s right to crap or be crapped on in the throes of passion, as long it’s shitting by mutual consent I see no harm in it whatsoever, shit away to your heart’s content. Shit and let shit that’s my motto. I wonder if people who are into scat take laxatives before a hot date, you know, just to make sure everything runs smoothly, if you get my drift. Wouldn’t it be awful if you were on your way to a scat orgy and you were all tanked up on Senakot and you got delayed in a traffic jam or something, God, you’d be past yourself just trying to hold it all in, you’d probably explode the moment someone shook your hand. It would be like a sprinkler system going off, mind, it would certainly liven the orgy up, fellow scatters would be ecstatic and you’d probably get offers of a large fee to perform a similar party piece at future functions. Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if you got crossed wires with someone on a first date and you got down to the love biz and they started screaming when you squatted and dumped a steaming turd on their naked person and it turned out they were into jazz scat and not shat scat! You’d feel like a right shit, or maybe not. Word of warning: Never partake of the ‘chocolate’ fondue if you find yourself at a scat party.
Anyway, I’ve talked enough shit for now, my apologies to everyone I’ve just offended with that foul-mouthed naughtiness. Why was Dick poogling? Well, he did the biz this morning after brekkie as he does (alone in the loo with the door closed) and apparently it wasn’t its ‘usual’ colour and because he gets these fussy health moments this worried him and he treated Shane and I to a description of its colour in the hope we could advise him as to what the colour change might possibly mean. Shane advised him never to talk about it again, not to him anyway, as apparently he gets enough shit from me (cheek) He advised talking to the doctor if Dick was really worried. Dick opted for consulting google. Google came up pumps, I mean trumps and delivered a site that de-mystified poo and all its many colours. Dick found a match for his bowel excretion and apparently it’s nothing to worry about. Google is God. He was happy again and toddled off to his studio to do some drawing. Shane and I grinned at each other as we heard him singing along to ‘Young Girl’ by Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. He listens to this radio station on a Sunday morning that plays stuff from the 60’s and 70’s. He puts his heart and soul into singing along, bless him.
It’s been a pleasant day here today, very bright and sunny though a bit on the cold side, there was actually a light frost this morning. I helped Shane wash his car, I was perished by the time we’d done. He insisted that I go out for a run with him afterwards. I’ve been a bit lax about running lately, since mum’s death. I’ve been more inclined to comfort eat in front of the telly than do anything pertaining to exercise. Anyway, the choice was that I could go for a run with him or that I could go for a run with him, in other words no choice at all, not unless I wanted the variation of running with a couple of paw prints adorning my arse and spurring me on. I enjoyed it actually and I felt a lot better afterwards. We had a nice hot shower when we got back and I do mean hot. I did lunch and then I spent a couple of hours on the computer. I wrote a chapter for my autobiography regarding Valentines Day and I might put it on site later. So, a nice day, which makes me feel a bit guilty. Shane says its silly to feel guilty and my mother would never want or expect me to stop smiling and feeling pleasure. He’s right I suppose.
You might note I’m using a bigger font. Someone said they found the site a bit difficult to read at times so I thought this might help.
Well, I’ve got supper to make now.
