Well I'm back, I'm not sure for how long because to be honest I'm not convinced many people have time or the inclination to listen to my ramblings these days. However, in honour of a dear friend and a very special day ahead, I thought I would make the time to gabble to any of you that may be interested.
I have prewarned my friend that I may be writing about her today and she didn't object, so I'm hoping that she won't mind if I tell a few little bits of her past. I have known Kate since I moved to Peterborough at the age of eleven and we spent many happy times together as we wandered our way through secondary school.
There was quite a gang of us back then, though we seemed to chop and change who we hung around with, it was always within the same group. Kate was always the pretty and popular girl in our year at school, along with a couple of others, Vicki and Denyse. I was just a quiet, timid, little mouse that trailed around in their wake, oh how age has changed me! Most mornings I would walk to Kate's and we would then walk on to school together, the benefits of being friends with such a popular young girl were bountiful, not least all the good looking boys that wanted to be her boyfriend.
Kate had one fairly serious boyfriend during our latter school years and I for one was pretty certain that they'd end up being married, of course my naive way of thinking was proven to be wrong, though while she was with him I got to snog the face off his best mate, thanks Kate!
Of course we all had other boys that we would dream of being with but knew that they were just outside of our reach. One boy in particular was Andy, he was a bit of a lad, didn't attend our school full time, but when he did you could feel the passion oozing from all the girls, hoping that he may look at them and allow them some of his time.
All too soon, we reached the age of sixteen and as usually happens we drifted in our separate directions. Kate went of to college, Vicki was working for a travel company and getting to see the world and I went off in to the RAF. Over the years I would hear tales of what was happening in Kate's life and I would occasionally bump in to her on nights out in town. She hadn't changed, still as pretty as ever, but was now a mum to two lovely children but with a man that quite obviously didn't realise how lucky he was to have her.
More years passed and with the arrival of the wonderful Facebook, Kate and I managed to get back in touch and started meeting up for coffee. Much grass was chewed at these meets and on one particular occasion she told me that she's been dragged, kicking and screaming in to town with work colleagues on a grab a grandad night. As she'd stood surveying the sea of grey haired fellows, a certain man, considerably younger and more handsome than the others caught her eye. She knew she recognised him and from the way he looked at her, could tell he recognised her too. They started chatting to each other and guess who it was? Yes, it was the god like Adonis, Andy, from our youth, the one that all the girls wanted and here he was chatting to her!
Let's fast forward a couple of years and now find ourselves on a sunny Saturday in September. At last Kate has bagged her man, the man of all our childhood dreams and after forty something years today will no longer be Miss but will rightfully be called Mrs Ferris.
I'm also happy to say that again thanks to the powerful Facebook, Vicki is also back in our lives and tonight I look forward to updating the photos from our school leaver's disco, there was no such thing as a prom in England back then.
Good luck Kate and Andy, you both deserve to be happy.
Saturday, 24 September 2011
Saturday, 25 June 2011
Death
Not the happiest of titles for today's ramblings, but I want to warn you up front what this is going to be about. I would also like to take this opportunity to warn you early on that I may offend some of you, particularly if you have recently lost a loved one, or if at some time you have lost someone through a tragic accident.
I don't intend apologising for my opinions because that's exactly what they are, mine and so of course you are entitled to yours. Please feel free to comment or not or even to write something of your own to express how you feel.
I have recently had the misfortune of losing a friend and neighbour at way too young of an age to a brain hemorrhage. One day she was waving and saying good morning as we set off for our day's work, the next she was gone. The only good thing to have come from her death was the fact that through being an organ donor, she has changed five people's lives for the better. The aftermath that has been left for her husband and children has been unthinkable, but between us we will make sure they reach some sort of peace with their loss.
Although she was initially taken seriously ill from home, to hospital by ambulance, the actual place she died was in the new City Hospital. We've had her funeral and those that wanted to, sent flowers, others donated to her favourite animal charity.
Sadly this week, there have also been two tragic deaths on the roads around Peterborough, one was a young woman of 21 and the other was a man that I knew vaguely from many years ago.
As I passed by both of these crash sites today, I was once again disappointed to see that people had been to these spots and laid flowers. Exactly as we've seen on the news this week, for where that poor little six year old boy was killed in Wakefield.
I'm afraid I really do not understand why people insist on doing this flower laying ritual at the site of the death or accident. Not only do these floral displays now distract other drivers as they pass, to gain access to these spots means walking on or across extremely busy roads, therefore potentially causing another accident to occur.
Most bewildering to me is why anyone actually wants to remember where their friend or loved one was lost when it was next to a busy road? I know that in very religious European countries candles are lit in a similar way and left and I understand that even less!
I have no intention of going to the City Hospital and laying flowers next to a hospital bed for my dear friend, nor do I visit any other hospital and do this for the many loved family members I have lost over the years.
So why oh why do people feel the need to do it at the side of the road?
I remember some years ago the Chief Constable of Lincolnshire police banned such tributes in the county and I think he had the right idea. These so called tributes should be banned country wide and if you want to remember someone you've loved and lost, whether it's through old age, illness or tragedy, why not take some flowers or even just your quiet, private thoughts to a place you know they loved.
I don't intend apologising for my opinions because that's exactly what they are, mine and so of course you are entitled to yours. Please feel free to comment or not or even to write something of your own to express how you feel.
I have recently had the misfortune of losing a friend and neighbour at way too young of an age to a brain hemorrhage. One day she was waving and saying good morning as we set off for our day's work, the next she was gone. The only good thing to have come from her death was the fact that through being an organ donor, she has changed five people's lives for the better. The aftermath that has been left for her husband and children has been unthinkable, but between us we will make sure they reach some sort of peace with their loss.
Although she was initially taken seriously ill from home, to hospital by ambulance, the actual place she died was in the new City Hospital. We've had her funeral and those that wanted to, sent flowers, others donated to her favourite animal charity.
Sadly this week, there have also been two tragic deaths on the roads around Peterborough, one was a young woman of 21 and the other was a man that I knew vaguely from many years ago.
As I passed by both of these crash sites today, I was once again disappointed to see that people had been to these spots and laid flowers. Exactly as we've seen on the news this week, for where that poor little six year old boy was killed in Wakefield.
I'm afraid I really do not understand why people insist on doing this flower laying ritual at the site of the death or accident. Not only do these floral displays now distract other drivers as they pass, to gain access to these spots means walking on or across extremely busy roads, therefore potentially causing another accident to occur.
Most bewildering to me is why anyone actually wants to remember where their friend or loved one was lost when it was next to a busy road? I know that in very religious European countries candles are lit in a similar way and left and I understand that even less!
I have no intention of going to the City Hospital and laying flowers next to a hospital bed for my dear friend, nor do I visit any other hospital and do this for the many loved family members I have lost over the years.
So why oh why do people feel the need to do it at the side of the road?
I remember some years ago the Chief Constable of Lincolnshire police banned such tributes in the county and I think he had the right idea. These so called tributes should be banned country wide and if you want to remember someone you've loved and lost, whether it's through old age, illness or tragedy, why not take some flowers or even just your quiet, private thoughts to a place you know they loved.
Sunday, 19 June 2011
For my Dad
A Man
Successful? Yes, through honest work, not through some happy turn of fate.
Never has he been known to shirk since he attained to man's estate.
Approached each task with buoyant zest,
of all life's gifts deemed work the best.
But this alone does not portray the man that I would have you see.
A zest for work? I hear you say, is not a claim on sympathy.
So other virtues I'll outline which well describe this Dad of mine.
He has that questing type of mind that one associates with youth.
Towards fulsomeness he's deaf and blind, abhors a lie, respects the truth,
and honesty is part of him, as much a part as any limb.
Quite perfect then? Oh no indeed, did I not say he was a man?
But turn to him when you're in need and he will help you all he can.
A loyal, sincere and upright friend, whom one can trust right to the end.
Successful? Yes, through honest work, not through some happy turn of fate.
Never has he been known to shirk since he attained to man's estate.
Approached each task with buoyant zest,
of all life's gifts deemed work the best.
But this alone does not portray the man that I would have you see.
A zest for work? I hear you say, is not a claim on sympathy.
So other virtues I'll outline which well describe this Dad of mine.
He has that questing type of mind that one associates with youth.
Towards fulsomeness he's deaf and blind, abhors a lie, respects the truth,
and honesty is part of him, as much a part as any limb.
Quite perfect then? Oh no indeed, did I not say he was a man?
But turn to him when you're in need and he will help you all he can.
A loyal, sincere and upright friend, whom one can trust right to the end.
Saturday, 30 April 2011
Friends
Warning, warning, warning! I am about to ramble on about something that I've covered before but with a slightly different twist, I hope! So, please feel free to log off now and dismiss me for being repetitive if you so desire, I said please feel free.... you get my point.
I know I have discussed friends with you before and if my very poor memory serves me correctly, which it often doesn't, it was about "friends" on social networking sites. I realise that I could go back through my Blogs and see what I wrote, way back when, but to be honest, I really can't be arsed. So, you've had fair warning that this may bring back memories but if you don't like it, quit now.
Oh, you've decided to carry on reading then have you? I hope I don't let you down.
I have recently been given cause to think about friends and friendship and what makes someone a friend, or even a good friend, come to think of it, a bad friend. Personally I feel we sometimes confuse friendship with other things, for instance, I may work with someone that I really like and we have a laugh together, does that make them my friend? Or someone I live close to and say hello to on the occasional trip to the shop and of course "chat" to via Facebook, are they a friend?
I don't think that there is an easy straight forward answer to these questions but I just want to say that recently I have been given hope that I know who my friends are and why they are in my life.
As I'm sure you're all bored of hearing, Master Musical has just returned from a trip to Australia to stay with "friends". People that he met via the internet, yes, don't worry, my mother had already thought of it, are they grooming him???? I did of course meet them first when they visited England and I'm sure that if they intended grooming anyone, it would have been far cheaper and easier to have stayed in Australia. I digress.... two lovely families that have been waiting for my first born son to save enough money to visit them for the holiday of a life time. Well, he went and what a time he had, in fact they really are now part of our family it would seem and it looks like we may visit them when we've saved a few pennies and of course they're saving to come and stay here. We will call them friends.
Then there are my lovely friends that I met first through my boys' primary school, all were teachers but I went on to care for their children and through that we became firm friends. We may not see each other all the time but it doesn't matter, we know we're here for each other no matter what and I will love ALL of those children forever, no matter how big they get.... and ladies, they do get big!
I of course can't forget my lovely school friends and how the prettiest girl in school has ended up with the boy we all wanted to be with, jammy bugger. Oh and work colleagues from my many different jobs, please be sure I only add the ones I want to call friends on Facebook, if you're name's not down, you ain't a mate!
But finally the loveliest thing happened a few nights ago when Mr Grumpy decided to borrow a very large ladder to take down the now redundant TV aerial. As I stood at the bottom, watching him ascend, I decided that if his fate was to fall horribly to the ground and die, I'd rather be indoors with a glass of pink watching Cougar Town. So, some time later, when he returned, I asked him if it was all sorted. Well, he obviously didn't die did he? To which he replied that two of our neighbours had seen him looking useless, I mean struggling, dropped what they were doing and came to hold the ladder while he removed the aerial. They obviously didn't care if they had to witness his blood being shed.
My final point, if there really is one to this story, is that friends are what we make of them. Some come and go and then come again.... don't be rude...
Others are with us constantly, a bit like my family.
Some come in to our lives and no matter what happens, how often we see them or whatever differences we may have, stick by us through it all.
But I guess the ones that are nice to have in our lives are the ones that will be there whether blood's shed, they'll hold the ladder and most of all they'll pour the pink, offer a tissue and give us a reason to smile and say thank you.
For the record, if you've read this and stuck with me to the end, you too are a friend and I thank you.
I know I have discussed friends with you before and if my very poor memory serves me correctly, which it often doesn't, it was about "friends" on social networking sites. I realise that I could go back through my Blogs and see what I wrote, way back when, but to be honest, I really can't be arsed. So, you've had fair warning that this may bring back memories but if you don't like it, quit now.
Oh, you've decided to carry on reading then have you? I hope I don't let you down.
I have recently been given cause to think about friends and friendship and what makes someone a friend, or even a good friend, come to think of it, a bad friend. Personally I feel we sometimes confuse friendship with other things, for instance, I may work with someone that I really like and we have a laugh together, does that make them my friend? Or someone I live close to and say hello to on the occasional trip to the shop and of course "chat" to via Facebook, are they a friend?
I don't think that there is an easy straight forward answer to these questions but I just want to say that recently I have been given hope that I know who my friends are and why they are in my life.
As I'm sure you're all bored of hearing, Master Musical has just returned from a trip to Australia to stay with "friends". People that he met via the internet, yes, don't worry, my mother had already thought of it, are they grooming him???? I did of course meet them first when they visited England and I'm sure that if they intended grooming anyone, it would have been far cheaper and easier to have stayed in Australia. I digress.... two lovely families that have been waiting for my first born son to save enough money to visit them for the holiday of a life time. Well, he went and what a time he had, in fact they really are now part of our family it would seem and it looks like we may visit them when we've saved a few pennies and of course they're saving to come and stay here. We will call them friends.
Then there are my lovely friends that I met first through my boys' primary school, all were teachers but I went on to care for their children and through that we became firm friends. We may not see each other all the time but it doesn't matter, we know we're here for each other no matter what and I will love ALL of those children forever, no matter how big they get.... and ladies, they do get big!
I of course can't forget my lovely school friends and how the prettiest girl in school has ended up with the boy we all wanted to be with, jammy bugger. Oh and work colleagues from my many different jobs, please be sure I only add the ones I want to call friends on Facebook, if you're name's not down, you ain't a mate!
But finally the loveliest thing happened a few nights ago when Mr Grumpy decided to borrow a very large ladder to take down the now redundant TV aerial. As I stood at the bottom, watching him ascend, I decided that if his fate was to fall horribly to the ground and die, I'd rather be indoors with a glass of pink watching Cougar Town. So, some time later, when he returned, I asked him if it was all sorted. Well, he obviously didn't die did he? To which he replied that two of our neighbours had seen him looking useless, I mean struggling, dropped what they were doing and came to hold the ladder while he removed the aerial. They obviously didn't care if they had to witness his blood being shed.
My final point, if there really is one to this story, is that friends are what we make of them. Some come and go and then come again.... don't be rude...
Others are with us constantly, a bit like my family.
Some come in to our lives and no matter what happens, how often we see them or whatever differences we may have, stick by us through it all.
But I guess the ones that are nice to have in our lives are the ones that will be there whether blood's shed, they'll hold the ladder and most of all they'll pour the pink, offer a tissue and give us a reason to smile and say thank you.
For the record, if you've read this and stuck with me to the end, you too are a friend and I thank you.
Wednesday, 27 April 2011
What was I doing?
As old age advances at a great rate of knots, I find myself struggling to remember things. Some are far less important than others, like getting to the bottom of the stairs, heading towards the kitchen and not being able to recall why I was going there in the first place. Those forgetful moments never seem to have a great impact on my life as I find that once I return to the top of the stairs, my memory kicks in and I can remember exactly what I was down there for. This kind of forgetfulness is good for my legs and is my daily cardio-vascular exercise.
A more worrying kind of forgetfulness is heading out of the door, realising it's a bit chillier out today than yesterday and realising that I have forgotten to wear underwear. Not a problem if I don't tell anyone I guess but we all remember that warning from our mothers when we were younger, yes, today is the day we will get run over and my friend Cheryl might be the one driving the ambulance and what on earth would she think?!!! I'm guessing she'd think, "ah, good old Ali, some things never change"
The thing though that I find oddest about my memory is that the things that happened right from my early childhood can be recalled in the blink of an eye. My first pet, trips to the seaside, Sunday tea at my Wicked Aunts when she made us eat bread and butter with tinned fruit, my lovely Aunt's budgie called Fred and the stories my grandfather told me in the scariest of thunder storms, the list is endless.
But ask me to pick something up from the supermarket and be fool enough not to write it down? No chance. Birthdays, anniversaries or appointments not on the calendar? Not a hope in hell.
I'm just thankful that as I threw my car keys in the bin earlier, something, somewhere clicked and realised that they actually belong in the drawer.
Right, where's that pink?!!!
A more worrying kind of forgetfulness is heading out of the door, realising it's a bit chillier out today than yesterday and realising that I have forgotten to wear underwear. Not a problem if I don't tell anyone I guess but we all remember that warning from our mothers when we were younger, yes, today is the day we will get run over and my friend Cheryl might be the one driving the ambulance and what on earth would she think?!!! I'm guessing she'd think, "ah, good old Ali, some things never change"
The thing though that I find oddest about my memory is that the things that happened right from my early childhood can be recalled in the blink of an eye. My first pet, trips to the seaside, Sunday tea at my Wicked Aunts when she made us eat bread and butter with tinned fruit, my lovely Aunt's budgie called Fred and the stories my grandfather told me in the scariest of thunder storms, the list is endless.
But ask me to pick something up from the supermarket and be fool enough not to write it down? No chance. Birthdays, anniversaries or appointments not on the calendar? Not a hope in hell.
I'm just thankful that as I threw my car keys in the bin earlier, something, somewhere clicked and realised that they actually belong in the drawer.
Right, where's that pink?!!!
Saturday, 23 April 2011
Power of the sun
So as the sun takes hold of us we turn in to a nation of oddities, well, some of us were already odd but that's another story...
I refer of course to how this lovely, early heatwave affects all of us in different ways. Never does people watching become such a fun past time than when the sun shines brightly in the sky, throw in a couple of long weekends and maybe the odd royal wedding and we're a country of complete and utter loonies!
The first mind blowing thing that happens is the shedding of clothes. Now don't get me wrong, I like many others am very keen to top up my tan, in fact the feeling of sun on my skin makes me feel a million times better than when I drink a whole bottle of pink. But I try to ensure that my sunshine revealings are kept fairly private and are usually restricted to my back garden, only my poor family and my long suffering neighbours have to suffer the sights of my wobbly bits.
It would seem though that there are those that walk among us that feel it's necessary to show us all of their lovely white bits and pieces and they don't care whether we want to see or not!
Now I know I'm no spring chicken and my body has acted as a carrying vessel for two small people but seeing these people with their ample midriffs and over flowing breasts makes me feel like a super model! Some of them even try to enhance their whole appearance by adding a sexy cigarette in their mouth and of course the cleverly placed tattoos, oh and let's not forget they must be accompanied either by a small screaming person or a partner wearing shorts, no shirt, trainers and a fake Burberry cap.
The next tell tale sign that the sun is shining is the smell of barbecues or rather not the smell of barbecues but the empty shelves in the supermarket. Just the burger and bread roll aisles of course and there'll be a dent somewhere down the lager aisle. When you get to the checkout, just look discreetly to your left or right and you'll see the same afore-mentioned people waiting with their trollies piled high, ready to go home and annoy anyone that lives within a 2 mile radius with some terrible music blasting from their stereos.
Am I getting old? Of course, we all are hopefully, but as I grow older, thankfully I am not losing my sense of taste, my concern for others or becoming one of the flabby flashers. Well, unless you ask me really nicely that is!
I refer of course to how this lovely, early heatwave affects all of us in different ways. Never does people watching become such a fun past time than when the sun shines brightly in the sky, throw in a couple of long weekends and maybe the odd royal wedding and we're a country of complete and utter loonies!
The first mind blowing thing that happens is the shedding of clothes. Now don't get me wrong, I like many others am very keen to top up my tan, in fact the feeling of sun on my skin makes me feel a million times better than when I drink a whole bottle of pink. But I try to ensure that my sunshine revealings are kept fairly private and are usually restricted to my back garden, only my poor family and my long suffering neighbours have to suffer the sights of my wobbly bits.
It would seem though that there are those that walk among us that feel it's necessary to show us all of their lovely white bits and pieces and they don't care whether we want to see or not!
Now I know I'm no spring chicken and my body has acted as a carrying vessel for two small people but seeing these people with their ample midriffs and over flowing breasts makes me feel like a super model! Some of them even try to enhance their whole appearance by adding a sexy cigarette in their mouth and of course the cleverly placed tattoos, oh and let's not forget they must be accompanied either by a small screaming person or a partner wearing shorts, no shirt, trainers and a fake Burberry cap.
The next tell tale sign that the sun is shining is the smell of barbecues or rather not the smell of barbecues but the empty shelves in the supermarket. Just the burger and bread roll aisles of course and there'll be a dent somewhere down the lager aisle. When you get to the checkout, just look discreetly to your left or right and you'll see the same afore-mentioned people waiting with their trollies piled high, ready to go home and annoy anyone that lives within a 2 mile radius with some terrible music blasting from their stereos.
Am I getting old? Of course, we all are hopefully, but as I grow older, thankfully I am not losing my sense of taste, my concern for others or becoming one of the flabby flashers. Well, unless you ask me really nicely that is!
Friday, 22 April 2011
Is it a Good Friday?
Just in case there is someone reading this, let me just say good evening and I hope you're enjoying today as much as I am.
I realise I haven't rambled in quite a while but after a walk along the Green Wheel with Gary and Edward recently, I felt a little inspired. I won't share the happenings of that particular ramble with you but needless to say, if you want to blame anyone for my bletherings, well, now you know who to aim them at.
I'm not going to go on about the reasons behind why most of us have enjoyed a day off work and some time in the sunshine today but some little things did once again trigger my thoughts on all things god like.
I have just finished reading Dawn French's book, Dear Fatty, funny, sad and also thought provoking at times. Strangely the thing that stuck in my mind and surprised me probably the most was the hurtful comments and actions that she and her husband had endured, yes racism. I finished the book and immediately went in search of something else to read, the only book in the house I could find that I hadn't previously read was Faces in the smoke. It's a story about a holocaust survivor, someone that Master Musical met after he'd visited Auschwitz two years ago. Now I'm sure most people would find it ridiculous of me to mention these two books in the same paragraph, but you know what, it isn't really.
How do so many small minded, bigoted people still manage to walk this earth, even after all these years have we really learned nothing?
Yes, I know all about freedom of speech and appreciate that everyone's entitled to an opinion but it doesn't mean you should brandish it publicly at the cost of someone elses feelings.
I hate all the "isms" particularly racism, sexism and whatever the ism is for homophobic people.
So on a day where we're led to believe in all things god like I hope that some people in the world take a few moments to consider why their god still allows such terrible things to happen.
Young, innocent children that die at the hands of cruel abusers or thoughtless governments. Brave people that fight for the rights of their country and those that live alongside them. People that are still persecuted for the colour of their skin, the country they were born in or just the fact that like to love someone of the same sex.
I will hold my hand up and say I'm not perfect and have acted naively in my past concerning some of these "isms", I'm not proud of what I thought but I have learned as I've grown and only hope that I can pass on this level of acceptance towards others to my sons.
Sorry it wasn't a funny one but then when are they? Happy Long Weekend Off!!! (Well for those that get it)
I realise I haven't rambled in quite a while but after a walk along the Green Wheel with Gary and Edward recently, I felt a little inspired. I won't share the happenings of that particular ramble with you but needless to say, if you want to blame anyone for my bletherings, well, now you know who to aim them at.
I'm not going to go on about the reasons behind why most of us have enjoyed a day off work and some time in the sunshine today but some little things did once again trigger my thoughts on all things god like.
I have just finished reading Dawn French's book, Dear Fatty, funny, sad and also thought provoking at times. Strangely the thing that stuck in my mind and surprised me probably the most was the hurtful comments and actions that she and her husband had endured, yes racism. I finished the book and immediately went in search of something else to read, the only book in the house I could find that I hadn't previously read was Faces in the smoke. It's a story about a holocaust survivor, someone that Master Musical met after he'd visited Auschwitz two years ago. Now I'm sure most people would find it ridiculous of me to mention these two books in the same paragraph, but you know what, it isn't really.
How do so many small minded, bigoted people still manage to walk this earth, even after all these years have we really learned nothing?
Yes, I know all about freedom of speech and appreciate that everyone's entitled to an opinion but it doesn't mean you should brandish it publicly at the cost of someone elses feelings.
I hate all the "isms" particularly racism, sexism and whatever the ism is for homophobic people.
So on a day where we're led to believe in all things god like I hope that some people in the world take a few moments to consider why their god still allows such terrible things to happen.
Young, innocent children that die at the hands of cruel abusers or thoughtless governments. Brave people that fight for the rights of their country and those that live alongside them. People that are still persecuted for the colour of their skin, the country they were born in or just the fact that like to love someone of the same sex.
I will hold my hand up and say I'm not perfect and have acted naively in my past concerning some of these "isms", I'm not proud of what I thought but I have learned as I've grown and only hope that I can pass on this level of acceptance towards others to my sons.
Sorry it wasn't a funny one but then when are they? Happy Long Weekend Off!!! (Well for those that get it)
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