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    ASDA!

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    Sat with my Cousin Ruby watching 'Britain's Got Talent' yesterday evening, which is unusual in itself. It's been a long time since I've sat and relaxed in a homely environment with family and I actually quite liked it. Ruby my second Cousin has turned into a lovely young lady. I learnt about 'Clarabella,' who I had never heard of before and all the things Ruby wants to buy, as well as 'Barbie Preparation Salon,' Don't ask! It was however nice sat chatting with Rubes, who just happens to be a joy to be around. I have missed this kind of contact!
    This morning I was up bright an early; a trip to ASDA was on the cards. This was the first time in a British supermarket for nearly three years; oh how I have missed ASDA! Looking around the shop I was struck by how much cheaper things are in the UK and there was me thinking Spain was better value...I reckon I have just been out of this country too long and have forgotten just how much things cost. In general the supermarket shopping experience is far superior here...That's just the British in me coming out...Would I come back to the UK for the supermarkets alone...Well you just never know!

    Walking around ASDA with a camera phone taking photo's of bread and other food staples must have seemed rather odd, but for me I felt like a kid in a sweet shop again. There are many aspects of home that I miss and this just happens to be one of them. On the down side however, as a nation, we don't exactly buy the best quality, healthiest food. Compared to Spain, our eating habits are terrible. Spain has taught me the importance of shopping wisely, within my means and and as local as I can!
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    Some boring photographs of bread, yes bread. Firstly I wanted to take a photo of Darrell's favourite Hovis loaf from the UK, which to his absolute horror you can't buy in Spain. Maybe I just want to make him a bit jealous. Secondly, look at the price; Spanish friends....55p a loaf, that is cheap. I have heard so many horror stories about the cost of things in the UK, but I haven't seen it myself. I have been amazed by how cheap things are!
    This afternoon I've had some quality family time, with a house full of Cousins. I should have finished this blog entry hours ago, but for the number of people in and out of my Aunty Trisha's. All good though, I quite like having people about. I did manage to cook us all a Hungarian Goulash and am currently sat down watching 'Ru Paul's Drag Race' on Netflix with my little Cousin Ruby. Early night tonight, as I have to be in Southampton tomorrow morning!  Have a good evening y'all!

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    Why I Run!

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    It was 1965 and my family and I were living in Cornwall. My dad had been stationed there with the Navy and my little sister was born there. Yes, she decided to arrive right in the middle of the May Day Festival so it was touch and go for my mum and dad to get through the festivity traffic to the hospital. No dancing around the May Pole for my mum on that day!

    I remember sitting on a swivel stool in the middle of this large sterile room. There were lots of grey looking cabinets in the room, some being used as dividers to make pockets of workspace.

    The nurse was an older lady in her late fifties. Clothed in a nurse’s blue and white striped dress and a white starched apron, her short gray curly hair graced a small white cap under which sat a cross face; her voice was sharp.
    “Take one of your arms out of your cardigan”, she trilled.
    “Take your cardigan off”, my mum said. I took it off and gave it to my mum. She folded it up and held it on her lap where my little sister sat. “It won’t hurt,”, my mum said.
    I wondered what wasn’t going to hurt; I sat back on the stool and looked around. There was a stainless steel sink in the room, cotton wool, lots of different types of grey canisters. Despite so many objects in the room, the grayness left it barren and cold.

    “Keep still” the nurse said in her loud shrill voice. Startled out of my reveries, I turned towards the harsh voice and saw the syringe and needle flying through the air like a dart. As it pierced my arm on landing, I howled in pain.
    The nurse tutted and sighed. Impatiently, she stuck a plaster on my arm. The tears poured down my face. The nurse walked briskly and emotionless across the room. My mum cuddled my sister as her screams joined mine. Then we were ushered quickly out.

    A few months later after our small pox injection, we flew out to Singapore where my Dad had been reassigned. Every six months we had to have a booster. Filled with that memory and terror, I took full advantage of my mother looking after my little sister and ran away as we queued up for the jab. My mum would have to leave my little sister with someone in the queue and chase after me. She was not happy, but jabs frightened me more than my mother’s disapproval.

    Today, when I go in for my flu jab or to have my blood drawn, I wish I was five again and that I could run away. I remind myself that I volunteered for this; that is a beneficial thing. I breath deeply and try to focus on something else – anything else – but my brain is not disciplined enough and my body tenses up in anticipation. My head starts to spin and my breathing becomes shallow and fast. My legs are unable to run but my heart is racing faster than my legs ever could.

    Then as fast as this anticipated event came concurrent, it is over. I am able to breathe more deeply, my muscles relax, and relief washes over me. It didn’t hurt that much and I wonder why I worried about it so much. But then I remember the nurse with the scowled face and it all makes sense.
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    Family!

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    I arrived in my hometown of Fareham on a hot Sunday morning and my father met me from the train station; chatting in the car on the way to their home in Catisfield, just a short car ride away, I was captivated by the scenes of yesterday, appearing before my eyes. It did feel very strange being back in the town where I grew up between 1971 and 1992. As we travelled in the car, I was struck by just how much the place had changed and rather surprised at just how built up this small market town on the south coast of England had become.

    I spent a good few hours with my Mother and Father, who I have not seen for many years for various reasons; circumstances, lifestyle choices and a difference of opinion being just three! We did have rather a lot to talk about as we discussed many different subjects and aired many divergent views! It was good to finally have a frank, honest discussion with my parents about my life, Bipolar and the problems of growing old, both in the UK and of course my home in Spain.

    I am very different to Mum and Dad and have chosen an unorthodox road in life. Like most parents, they have expressed their concerns about my choices in the past and Sunday was no exception. I am of course happy to discuss my current situation but will always follow my own path; Mum and Dad are well aware of this, if a little apprehensive about my future security. I understand what they are saying, I often feel rather unstable and confused about where I am myself, but in the end, whoever we are, we will always do what we believe is best for our own well-being. It was lovely to see Mother and Father and I will definitely see them again before I leave the UK!
    At two o'clock I made my way to Funtley Village Hall where members of my family were gathering for a farewell party, saying goodbye to my Great Aunty Margaret who is moving to Wales with her daughter and my Cousin Amanda and her lovely partner. All of them are beginning a new adventure, working the land and enjoying their lives in such a beautiful part of the United Kingdom.

    Ever since I can remember, our family have always had special parties and events at this old village hall. The last time I was here would have been thirty years ago, as my life moved on, away from my roots. Sitting next to my Aunty Carol, discussing the family over the years, the youngest generation running around, playing under tables, skidding on the floor, I was reminded of just how important these bonds are. I was the young child  frolicking with other children in years gone by, enjoying a buffet made my Aunts, Uncles and Cousins; I was once more part of a family, that at one stage was the biggest in Hampshire, enjoying the company of those I had left behind.
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    A montage of family photographs, especially arranged for the day. I haven't seen these in many years; memories of happy times!


    It was wonderful to see a wall of photographs, encompassing all of the family, arranged for such a special day. So many faces I had not seen for a generation or more, many of whom were in attendance on Sunday.

    I was apprehensive turning up as I did to join everyone saying their goodbyes. I was unsure as to the welcome I would receive, but I had no reason to worry, everyone was a joy to be around; it felt just like yesterday.

    I realised the importance of family on Sunday and how much it means to me now, as I head towards my fifth decade. Wherever I am in future, no matter how far away, I will always be close to loved ones, a reminder of a special day!

    After such a lovely afternoon in the village hall, my cousins Chris and Maria took me for a ride around the area in which I grew up. An area that has changed out of all proportion, although the flat I grew up in as a young baby is still there, along with the schools I attended as a child and the house I lived in with my parents, during those difficult teenage years.
    This was a rather emotional journey and one I will probably never undertake again. I haven't seen these landmarks for many many years and despite the inevitable redevelopment over time I did recognise many of the places I enjoyed as a child. As I grow older I appreciate my humble beginnings more and more; it is important for me to reconnect with a past I have sadly avoided up until now!
    On Sunday evening and Bank Holiday Monday I spent time with with my Uncle Paul and Aunty Helen, as well as my extended family in Portchester. Once again we discussed our different lives, Paul in Hampshire, Helen now living in the Channel Islands and me living in Spain. It was interesting as a writer to see just how much had transpired in the intervening years. The last time I had seen many of my relations was in the 1980's, things were very different back then. I felt proud of all of them for their hard work, achieving all they set out to achieve. My life is somewhat different containing periods of success but many more years of adversity. If anything, those I spent time with on the long weekend, inspired me to focus on the future and not the issues of the past.

    On Monday we had breakfast at Port Solent Marina and a walk along the coast from Portchester Castle. I was last here in 1982, at eleven years old. This was the first time I appreciated exactly where I came from, a beautiful part of Britain, along the south coast of England; a wealth of history and scenic views for everyone to enjoy!

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    I finally arrived at my Aunty Trisha's yesterday evening following a short train journey from Portchester. After a quick catch up with my Aunt and Cousin Rachel it was time for a few vodka's. More talk about the future and the beginning of five weeks spent with family in  Portsmouth, the town of my birth. This is certainly turning into a trip down memory lane, a pilgrimage I should have done years ago. In a few weeks time, I should finally understand where my future lies, until then it's time to chill and relax with family and friends!
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    Back Home!

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    It was an early start for me on Friday, as I left Spain for the UK. I have no idea how long I am going to be here and am really not sure what will happen next. I haven't felt this unsettled in a long time, but despite the current challenges in my life, I have at least been able to return home and spend time with people who are important to me; friends and family alike.

    After a rather turbulent aeroplane journey from Alicante I finally arrived at a rather busy Southampton Airport. This was my first time on British soil in two and a half years. The security as I entered the country, was well over and above anything I had experienced before and I was surprised at the amount of new measures in place to protect all those travelling to and from the UK.

    After a ten minute journey, I was picked up at Southampton Central train station by Aunty Myra, someone I have known for many years. I was happy spending my first few days back home in Myra's company; we had a lot to catch up on, sharing memories and more importantly, discussing the future. A mutual friend Elaine popped round on my first evening as we continued to chat about 'old times.' A few glasses of beer, home cooked Bolognese and beautiful weather ended the day perfectly.

    On Saturday Myra's sister Jean came over. I have known Jean, even longer than Myra, she used to work for Darrell and I, when we had our business in Salisbury and has remained close for well over twenty years. Following a curry, we headed out to play Bingo for the evening, not something I do on a regular basis, but nevertheless an enjoyable experience, despite not winning a thing; story of my life. I've never been lucky, remarking to Jean about 'not having a gambling habit at least, otherwise I would be even more broke than I am now.'

    Jamie, who used to live with me in  Spain, during my first year there, was calling the numbers at Gala Bingo in Lordshill. I haven't seen him since January 2017; Once again it was good to catch up with more people from my past; many more to come!
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    Farewell To Spain .... For Now!

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    It's the last day in Spain for me, after what I can only describe as  a 'difficult' few weeks. Tomorrow I am returning to the UK for approximately five weeks, though Darrell and I are not sure just how long at the moment, it really depends on a number of factors. I suppose at the moment we are both temporarily homeless, until we are able to move into our new home. Obviously not destitute and on the streets, but without a place to live. At this time of year, finding somewhere to rent in Gran Alacant, is near on impossible, so like many others before us, we just have to do what we can, until the housing situation changes. Thankfully Darrell and I have some good friends, both here and in the UK.

    Today I have just finished cleaning and tidying the house, before we move officially tomorrow; it finally looks like a show home again. Typically Darrell has started his four night shift pattern at the airport, just as we have to move; on top of that his car broke down a few days ago, but due to the support of others (Expats are a fabulous lot) we have managed to get it back on the road temporarily, until it can be fixed properly next week  It does seem like circumstances are conspiring against us at the moment and in truth I will be glad to get away from here for a while; the last few months have just warn me down!

    Tomorrow I fly back home to stay with friends and family, reassess my life and hopefully make some choices about the direction I should be taking now. A change of environment and different surroundings should help me finally decide where I want to be! In the mean time, I have cases to pack, floors to bleach, dinner to cook and 'On The Buses' to watch!

    Adios España, I'll be seeing you again soon!
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