I Lost A Friend

Photo copyright RR Nichols

Her personal blog

Her political blog

Some of you read Laurie Nichols’ blog; more of you will have seen her comments on my blog.  For those who have been wondering, I’m sad to report that Laurie passed away on February 17th, aged 49, due to complications caused by her cancer.  Her husband Robert told me that he was with her the last 60 days of her life full time in the room, talking, and holding her hand and making sure she was comfortable.

Laurie was a beautiful woman, inside and out.  She was sweet and kind and lived life to the full.  She loved politics, gardening, travelling with her husband, cooking, movies, her dogs but, above all, she loved her family.

She was one of my greatest cheerleaders and we corresponded privately as well as through our blogs.  A favourite memory is the time she sent me some elephant ears, all the way from the US to the UK.  You can read about it here.  That post arose from another post (read that one here) I had written, and here is the conversation which ensued in the second post, which was the first post (hey, I may be missing Laurie but she’d expect me to write as confusingly as always):

Laurie: Love, love, love this! I bake Elephant ear cookies (Palmier cookies in French) so I thought that the bad man had thrown her cookies off the balcony, I never heard of a plant called Elephant ears. I would have been crying too if a bad man had thrown my cookies off the balcony, they are so delicious, flaky pastry dough folded umpteenth times in sugar and baked until golden and caramelized, cookie bliss. 🙂

TB: Drooling…

Laurie: Sorry about the drool, they are drool worthy though, next time I make a batch, I’ll be sure to send you some. 🙂

TB: The reading of this comment constitutes a legally binding contract under blog law.  Can’t wait! 🙂

Laurie: Don’t worry I honor all of my promises, you will be getting a surprise by the end of the month or the beginning of April the latest. 🙂

TB: Bless you!

Laurie: Anything for my Tilly 😀

And that’s Laurie in a biscuit tin.  The biscuits arrived as promised, and were devoured.  I still have the tin she sent them in.

I miss her.  I miss her a lot.

 

Viv

My favourite photo of Viv

I never truly understood the concept of a heavy heart until this past week, when I heard the news that my beloved friend Viv had died.

Many of you knew her, whether online or in person; many more must have read her comments on my blog: she was one of my greatest supporters and cheerleaders. I loved her very much.  I’m glad I told her so.

I am not alone in my love: once the news had been posted by her family, on her blog, comments poured in from all over the world; dismay and sadness were the chief emotions, but many happy memories were shared.  The comment box not being enough, other bloggers posted their own tributes to Viv.  She deserves each and every one.

This isn’t a case of not speaking evil of the dead: she was a genuinely good and generous woman.  She was passionate about music, nature, the environment, quilting, poetry, education, friends, family…but most of all, she was passionate about life.  She lived.  She lived fully.  Despite pain and suffering, she lived right up to the end.  You could never accuse her of apathy.

She was always honest – here’s what turned out to be her last critique of one of my poems:

No and thrice no.  In questionable taste and unfunny!!!!!

I shall treasure it forever.

My heart has been heavy because of her loss; but also because I wanted to write this post – even had it roughed out in my head – but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  If I put it into print, then it became true: my dear Viv has gone.

My dear Viv has gone.

Upon hearing the news of a beloved’s death, people react differently: some cry, some scream, some freeze.  Some pretend it never happened. Some can’t believe that it happened.  All wish it hadn’t happened.

But for each person, no matter their reaction, there is one constant: emotion, like a boulder, sits on the chest – in the chest – where the beloved once resided.  Like Sisyphus, we try to push it away.  Unlike Sisyphus, we eventually succeed.  It may take months, years, decades but, sooner or later, the unbearable loss becomes bearable, and only love remains.

Once a person lodges in your heart, they never leave.  An osmosis occurs; and separation is merely physical.

Viv will always be a part of my life; I will always remember her.  How could I not? Before I met her, when we were friends online only, her personality was such that I was convinced ‘Viv’ was short for ‘vivacious’.  Imagine the full force of her charm and sweetness (she was often tart in print; never in person, that I ever saw) once we actually did meet.  I loved her at once.  You would have, too.

Photo © Blake/Hutt
Viv graduating from the Open University

Do yourself a favour and visit her blog, if you haven’t before.  She wrote poetry from the heart – like she lived her life – but it was always accessible.  Enjoy her rants on war, politicians, terrorism, the way we treat the environment.  Revel in her sublime appreciation of nature.  Mourn the loss of a unique and special woman; and, like me, be grateful if you knew her at all.

 

Today, I Am Ashamed To Be British

From The Mail & Guardian, South Africa

By now, everyone knows that Margaret Thatcher died on Monday.  It has been headline news everywhere.

The BBC managed a Freudian typo – accidentally, I hope:  

Margaret Thatcher dies after a strike.

I wonder if the British reaction has been headline news around the world?  I hope not.

In Britain, many mourn; many…rejoice.  Champagne was sprayed; happy chants thought up; in Glasgow, people who are too young to remember her time in office threw a street party to celebrate.  It was not the only ‘death party’.   Signs appeared saying, Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead!  Facebookers – people I know – spewed vitriol.  

While I don’t deny that her policies caused hurt to many, I have been appalled and saddened at the awfulness of the public reaction in some quarters.  The weltschmerz I feel is compounded with shame.  Margaret Thatcher wasn’t a mass-murderer, a torturer, a genocidal maniac who kept heads in the refrigerator.  She was a strong woman, convinced she was right, and unafraid to act on her beliefs.  She was our first and, so far, only, female Prime Minister; for three terms.  No small achievement.  She was respected and sometimes feared on the world stage.

But all of that happened more than twenty years ago.  When she died, she was just a frail old lady.

former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher in October 2007 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

What is wrong with a country in which people can show such scant respect for the dead?  In which it is okay to dance on the grave of a pensioner?

All politics aside, today, I am ashamed to be British.

Related articles

• Who is Margaret Thatcher? Confusion reigns online (guardian.co.uk)
• Stop Speaking Ill of Margaret Thatcher. (mypresentself.wordpress.com)

 

Free, Tree And Dead Again Me

When you were 16, what did you think your life would look like?

M (James Bond) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Like I was a successful actress.

Does it look like that?

No.

Is that a good thing?

It is what it is.  I never had the courage to pursue it so I have nobody to blame but myself.  Regrets are useless so I don’t have any.  What I do have is a happy marriage and two gorgeous sons.  I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

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If you could choose to be a master (or mistress) of any skill in the world, which skill would you pick?

Cooking, so I could hang on to this perfect family I am slowly poisoning.

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“It’s never a good idea to discuss religion or politics with people you don’t really know.” Agree or disagree?

Well, dear WordPress prompter, I’d rather not say because I don’t really know you.

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Write your own eulogy.

Tilly’s death at the hands of irritated WordPress prompters was sudden but inevitable.  She never knew when to quit and they didn’t like her pointing out that she had recently had to write her own obituary and was it personal on their part or had they become FreudPress prompters?

Also, she knew her way around a box of Maltesers, but not a kitchen.

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Blue Bee (Photo credit: bob in swamp)

Most of us have heard the saying, “That’s the best thing since sliced bread!” What do you think is actually the best thing since sliced bread?

The internet.  How else would I have discovered a bunch of people around the world willing to send me stuff out of the blue?

Speaking of which, thank you for the book, Bee Blue.  I’d kiss you but I know how you feel about that.

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Go to the nearest window. Look out for a full minute. Write about what you saw.

A tree.

That’s it.  It’s bigger than our house and blocks the view to everything…no, wait: something’s behind it.  Is that a WordPress prompter with a stick of dynamite in her mask…?

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Describe your relationship with your phone. Is it your lifeline, a buzzing nuisance, or something in between?

I’m sure that once I discover how to turn it on, we’ll be the best of friends.

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A genie has granted your wish to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like?

Actor portraying blue Genie character in Disney’s Aladdin stage show (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s like Robin Williams. Since Aladdin, they all are.

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You have to learn a new skill. Do you prefer to read about it, watch someone else do it, hear someone describe it, or try it yourself?

Why do I need to learn a new skill?  I have my own personal genie.

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Write about anything you’d like. Somewhere in your post, include the sentence, “I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked a the clock.”

I was reading this post when I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked at the clock.  I knew it was the Grammar Police, come to take away the WordPress prompter who had one too few ‘t’s in his at.

Joke 696

A man was driving along the highway, and saw a rabbit hopping across the middle of the road. He swerved to avoid hitting the rabbit, but unfortunately the rabbit jumped in front of the car and was hit. The driver, being a sensitive man as well as an animal lover, pulled over to the side of the road and got out to see what had become of the rabbit. Much to his dismay, the rabbit was dead.

Scary rabbit (Photo credit: jcorrius)

The driver felt so awful, he began to cry. A woman driving down the highway saw the man crying on the side of the road and pulled over. She stepped out of her car and asked the man what was wrong. “I feel terrible,” he explained. “I accidentally hit this rabbit and killed it.”

The woman told the man not to worry. She knew what to do. She went to her car trunk, and pulled out a spray can. She walked over to the limp, dead rabbit, and sprayed the contents of the can on to the rabbit.

Miraculously, the rabbit came to life, jumped up, waved its paw at the two humans and hopped down the road. 50 meters away the rabbit stopped, turned around, waved at the two again, hopped down the road another 50 meters, turned, waved and hopped another 50 meters.

The man was astonished. He couldn’t figure out what substance could be in the woman’s spray can. He ran over to the woman and demanded, “What was in your spray can? What did you spray on that rabbit?”

The woman turned the can around so that the man could read the label.

It said: “‘Hair spray restores life to dead hair. Adds permanent wave.”

From ajokeaday.com

 

RIP PC Gareth Francis

Read the full story

A policeman was murdered in Stockport last night.  PC Gareth Francis was on his way home from a night out with friends when he was attacked on Castle Street, Edgeley.  He died in hospital.  Two men have been arrested.

We shop on Castle Street all the time.  It is just up the road from my church.  I have been on it at night, on an evening out with friends.

I was desperate to leave South Africa in 1996 because of the violence.  We heard many terrible stories while we lived there, and witnessed violence ourselves, upon occasion.  I always thought it could happen to one of us while we lived there.

I never expected it to happen so close to home, here in the UK.  We have a lot of petty crime but we feel safe walking the streets.

It is dreadful to think of that young man, a man who was valuable in his community, who made a difference, being killed as he walked home.

Such a tragic waste.

 

No Humour Today

I think about all those murdered children and I don’t have it in me to laugh.

 

Remembrance Sunday

 

Joke 592

Marriage (Photo credit: Lel4nd)

From Will & Guy.

A husband had just finished reading the book Man of the House.  He stormed into the kitchen and walked directly up to his wife, pointing a finger in her face.

“From now on,” he said, “I want you to know that I am the man of the house and my word is law.  I want you to prepare me a gourmet meal tonight and when I’m finished eating my meal, I expect a scrumptious dessert.  Then, after dinner, you are going to draw me my bath so I can relax.  And when I’m finished with my bath, guess who’s going to dress me and comb my hair?”

His wife replied, “I’m guessing the funeral director.”

 

A Word In Your Ear

Time for some nonsense, I think.  This post was first published in a scruffier form back in 2010.

Cover of Alien (The Director’s Cut)

Bitch.  That’s my favourite word.  I love the sound of it, the way it bursts out of my mouth like an alien from John Hurt’s stomach.  Titch or itch or twitch; rich, witch, which; glitch/hitch/stitch; pitch, switch or ditch: none of these come close to the satisfying pop of the lips that comes with saying bitch.

Sadly, I can’t ever use it; I don’t swear. Except at the Hub in an argument, but I defy anyone to live with the Hub and not swear at him.  It can’t be done.  Nor is it possible to avoid arguing with him in the first place.   We were squabbling one day when a workman was here and the Hub said to him, ‘Don’t get married, mate.’  To which I unfortunately replied, ‘Yeah,  do all women a favour.’  When the workman started crying I had to backpeddle and explain that I was aiming my remark at men in general, not him in particular because I’m sure he is a very nice young man who can fix anything in the house and I bet he could catch mice; Barbara Cartland once said pinkly, ’There’s simply no equality when it comes to mice.’  She’s not wrong.

By this time the Hub was rocking with laughter and declaring himself the winner. I swore.

Philosophy: Who Needs It (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Another favourite word is solipsism.  Also another one I can’t use, but this time because, for some weird reason, my brain just doesn’t work that way.  I can never remember its meaning, no matter how many times I look it up.

According to Dictionary.com:

–noun

1. Philosophy.  The theory that only the self exists, or can be proved to exist.
2. Extreme preoccupation with and indulgence of one’s feelings, desires, etc; egoistic self-absorption.
3.  Blogger.

The first time I came across the word solipsism, I wrote it on my A Level English folder, meaning to look it up later.  My tutor noticed it and said, ‘Solipsism.  Now there’s a word.’

Then he walked away and never mentioned it again.  Proving that sometimes it’s better to believe – to paraphrase The Sex Pistols – I am a solipsist.

Waterford Cathedral facade (Photo credit: Fergal of Claddagh).  This photo was thrown up by Zemanta when I searched ‘John Hurt Alien’.  I think there’s a bug in the system.

Looking for a suitable photo to illustrate this post, I came across the website Movie Deaths.

I thought I was a nerd – I have seen every episode of every series of Star Trek, you know; more than once – but these people are something else. They review movie deaths.  

Here is the tummy alien I mentioned earlier:

[T]he baby alien bursts out of Kane’s stomach like a gruesome jack-in-the-box…As the crew watches in utter shock, the alien looks at them, and runs off.

As you do.  

• Implant yourself in John Hurt’s body.  Check.  
• Wait a while.  Check.  
• Exit in the messiest way.  Check.  
• Look for Mummy – bunch of weird strangers – no Mummy.  That’s a bitch.  
• Better run away.  Check.

And you should take a look at the comments…

Dr Death:  I actually wrote a paper about this at college. Maybe I still have it…

Jonny:  not the most honest rendition of the alien bursting out of kanes chest. I have been watching this movie for like the last two weeks over and over again

Mr Biggs Inc:  How about sex? not SEX sex, but the face-hugger did get Kane pregnant after all.

There’s always one.  

And all of his mates.  Wonder if they’ll review the replay of the moment I kill the Hub for always being right in  the True Life movie of our story?

Whoops!  Sorry, didn’t mean to spoil the ending for you.  I hate spoilers.  A certain sister-in-law once told me the ending of a 1980s’ mini-series:

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‘Let me just tell you this…’

‘…No, I don’t want to know…’

‘…Yes, but she dies.’

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Another sister-in-law told me who copped it in Titanic.

Come to think of it, maybe it’s not spoilers I don’t like, but sisters-in-law.

Actually, Movie Deaths is a pretty useful site.  I have never seen any of the Alien films and it gave me some interesting details, such as Hurt’s character’s name, and where he was at the moment of death: a sort of latter-day Kane and Table.*

*Pun. – noun.

1. A deliberate infliction of the wince factor on one’s faithful readers.  Punishable by desertion in droves, leading to the belief (correct) that only the self exists in one’s personal blogosphere.

 

Joke 543

From ajokeaday.com

Heaven (Photo credit: irunandshoot)

A famous lawyer, who had been a public defender for years, died.  He found himself standing at the back of an enormous queue outside the gates of Heaven.  

The lawyer could barely see St Peter sitting up on a podium outside the gates with a large book.  Every now and then St Peter glanced down the queue to see how it was going. Suddenly, he spotted the lawyer.  He was most surprised.  He jumped down from the podium and ran along the line until, slightly out of breath, he arrived beside the lawyer.

St Peter embraced the lawyer and pulled him out of the queue, taking him up to the front.  One person asked what was happening and an angel replied.  The reply was passed up the queue and people started to nod and clap.

The lawyer, embarrassed, asked St Peter why he was getting the special attention.

St Peter stopped, looking concerned.  ‘You are a lawyer, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ the lawyer replied.  ‘Does this happen to all lawyers in heaven?’

‘Oh, no,’ said St Peter. ‘It’s just that you are the first one to ever get here.’

Joke 440

 

English: Tennis racket and ball 日本語: テニスラケットとボール (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Thanks to my friend Cliff for this one.

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I just got back from my mate’s funeral.  He died after being hit on the head with a tennis ball.

It was a lovely service.

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Joke 433

Thanks to my friend Cliff for this one.

The Grim Reaper (Photo credit: Helico)

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The Grim Reaper came for me last night, and I beat him off with a vacuum cleaner.

Talk about Dyson with death.

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Joke 429

 Last one from Michelle.  I don’t know about you, but I’ve really enjoyed them.

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A cartoonist was found dead in his home. Details are sketchy.

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Joke 408

mvc00001 (Photo credit: ksbuehler)

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“Do you believe in life after death?” a manager asked one of his staff.

“Yes, I do,” the man replied.

“That’s good,” said the manager. “After you left early yesterday to go to your grandmother’s funeral, she called in to see you.”

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