Stoptober....final entry!!

Well....here we are a month later and Ms Monkey is still smoke free! Believe me when I say that nobody is as shocked as I have been. The last time I gave up I found myself crawling up the walls after a couple of days...and ready to disembowel my children after a week...but this time it has been easy...

My guess is that this is all down to my E-ciggie....my poor, long suffering smoking councillor has admitted defeat...bless his cotton socks. I have cracked it without the help of the NHS....Actually that is probably not a fair assessment...My counsellor's non-failing support and refusal to give me a guilt trip over my frequent lapses over the past year has been invaluable.

I am still puffing away on my e-ciggie and will no doubt continue to do so for a good while, although I shall be cutting down on the nicotine content of my e-liquid from now until chrimbo...but I am happy to do so. My problem with giving up has always been the fact that I enjoy smoking...the addiction to nicotine is more of an afterthought. Reducing my nicotine intake using the e-ciggie means that I can now crack that addiction, whilst still being able to smoke something that isn't filling my lungs with tar....although I really must get out of the habit of absent mindedly puffing away on it while pottering around the Co-op....yes, I did catch myself doing that at the weekend and had to discretely blow out the vapour when nobody was looking....luckily vapour doesn't smell.

I still find the smell of real ciggies disgusting and have to make an effort not to screw up my face when passing the 'stinking hoard' who puff away outside our local merchants...as almost all of my friends smoke, this will cause some amusement when they come to visit. To this end I have purchased a brolly, so that they can go and stand in my garden (I shall wave through the window at them).

The reason that I gave up was to save me money, and I am certainly doing that. The cost of e-liquid is stupidly cheap in comparison to ciggies and I estimate the cost to be about £2-3 per week. I therefore decided that I deserved a treat and so I have added to my collection of kitties...yes, I said kitties.

I am a cat person, although I do have a mutt, and as I have previously stated I am only one more bad relationship away from a dozen cats. However, I have, until recently, limited myself to four. but after a couple of glasses of wine a fortnight ago; a friends plea for help in re-homing some little balls of fluff on Facebook, caught my eye. The following day I was off to Prussia Cove to look at these paragons of cuteness, having already decided in my mind that I would definitely have one. I have always wanted a tabby cat. Many years ago, I had a wonderful tortoiseshell tabby, who was my constant companion. She sadly went missing one day and I never found a trace of her...since then, I have always wanted another tabby but have generally ended up with whatever came my way. Tyson is sort of Tabby, but his coat is a very smokey grey with a white undercoat...and so, I ended up with two of the little darlings! They are twins and extremely difficult to tell apart with a quick glance. Their names are Isabel and Sebastian....about as gothic as I could get away with!

Gratuitous cute kitten shot.

They are utterly adorable, friendly and playful...although they are destroying my beloved Queen of the Night plant...and the rest of the living room. They have been spending their days exploring the house and by night curled up on my lap. And if that's not a worthwhile reward for giving up smoking then I don't know what is!!!

We specialise in adorable...

Stoptober...day 9

Eww! Hideous nicotine patch dream last night! I dreamt that I was at the Tory party conference, I hadn't gone there voluntarily, I was part of a film crew making a film there...and...and...I snogged David Cameron....aaargh! Thank all that's unholy, it didn't go any further. But I did wake up with a desire to go and wash myself with bleach! Even if I didn't think the man's politics are slightly to the right of Heinrich Himmler, he is a smarmy upper class twit...I may never sleep again!!

 

Have had to bow to the inevitable and bought myself a refillable e-ciggie. I have gone for a manual (it has a button on the battery...presumably so as to preserve battery life) e-ciggie called 'the ego.' It's not the most ladylike looking of creations, but hey ho...

The 'Ego'...I have ordered the silver one...not very gothic looking is it?



I have also ordered some e-liquid, which apparently tastes like Golden Virginia...we shall see. I shall review said item when it turns up, but I went for this particular one after it was recommended to me by my dear friend and fellow #damnedclub member Agent Freestyle. Apparently this particular one produces a lot of vapour...should be a bit like smoking a cigar! But without the lung cancer and emphysema...one hopes!

 

I have ordered two different strengths of e-liquid; 18mg & 11mg...this is roughly equal to a 20 a day habit and a 10 a day habit. The 18 is probably a bit strong for me...my patches are 14mg, but my theory is that I can give up on the patches sooner rather than later. Another dream like last night's and I'll be off to the Co-op for twenty Capstan full strength!

A helpful American diagram...although it is metric...perhaps they nicked it off some Europeans?...the strengths I have gone for equate to high and mild.......ish

I suppose I ought to mention that I haven't had a single craving today. This is very different from last time...I was pulling my hair out at the same time I last tried giving up. The only difference is the use of the e-ciggies...and so, I guess, for me it seems to be working...watch this space!!! I know I'm not out of the woods yet!

Stoptober...days 6 through 8

Well...for those of you who were worrying, I haven't fallen by the wayside. I just had the weekend off from my blog so that I could catch up on some of those important jobs; such as washing school uniform, planting my winter veg and arguing with my children....I wouldn't want to be them at the moment...my temper is very close to explosive. The slightest transgression...be it real or imaginary...is likely to lead to thermonuclear war. They are walking on a knife's edge, particularly teenage son. Sadly for him, although he would deny it to all who listened, we are very alike. We even look alike...although I maintain my eyebrows so that I don't have two hairy caterpillars living on my face...I also wash more often!

Still having wild nicotine dreams...well, sometimes they're not so wild as such; last night I dreamt about taking cuttings from willow trees...what a wild and exciting life I must lead to be rewarded with dreams like that! To be honest, I found it extremely restful...my idea of a pleasant afternoon...although you would think my subconscious would allow me a night of nasty sex with Johnny Depp every now and then!

It would appear that I have yet to master the skill of just using my e-ciggie for moments of desperation. Indeed, yesterday morning was a weak morning, full stop. I found myself reaching for it at ten in the morning...watching David Cameron give an interview was probably a mistake. Every time he appears I find myself wondering how he's going to make my life more miserable this time...Perhaps I should just avoid television and newspapers for the foreseeable future...but then I would also have to avoid Twitter & Facebook...and probably the Internet in general...in fact, I could just go and live on an island somewhere...except some bloody bottle would wash up on the shore with a copy of the Daily Fail in it....

 

I did see that that 'nice' Mr Osborne plans to make another £10 billion of cuts to the welfare budget, he announced. If the question is 'how low can you go,' then it would appear that the answer is 'somewhere close to the Earth's core.'

 

Anyway, enough politics, popped to see my GP today, regarding getting some more medical evidence for my condition for when PIP replaces DLA (no, I'm not going to bang on about it in this post...but I will at some point soon!). The patient before me was obviously a heavy smoker...I felt quite ill at the smell. I do hope this doesn't mean that I'm going to be one of those obnoxious ex-smokers who tuts around smokers about how offensive it is...who coughs exaggeratedly when anyone lights up...somehow I can't see any of my dear friends allowing that to happen...either that or they will just tell me to piss off!

Stoptober...day 5

Weird, nicotine fuelled dreams last night included...some bizarre guerrilla gardening in some pensioner's garden. They weren't very appreciative and called the police. But the weirdest one was when I stopped to help a chav who had broken down in his lad mobile and the AA turned up and stole my car. They then reversed it up the main road, through a cardboard box, through a tent and through a plate glass window....why there was a tent in the middle of the road, I have no idea!

 

Smoking clinic today. Even though I have been good, regarding my smoking, I still feel guilty because of the e-ciggie. E-ciggies are not recommended as part of a smoking cessation program, apparently, although I didn't get the telling off I was expecting!

 

I arrived at my session only to be met with the stench of stale tobacco, apparently the appointment before me had not had the same success at quitting...it would appear that my sense of smell is returning with a vengeance...nice to know that I stank like that! Now I just smell of dog and Estee Lauder...I'd rather not smell of dog but she does have one of those smells that seems to have a life force all of its own! Sadly, it also means that all of those times I went into my smoking sessions pretending that I hadn't had a ciggie that morning, must've been a source of amusement to my counsellor, as I must've stunk like a stale bonfire...oh well. Have to say I do find my nose being distracted when I walk past the smokers at the local Co-op...I find myself taking extra deep breaths, trying to suck in that intoxicating smoke...NO!! No smoking fantasies allowed!

 

Anyway, I confessed my use of the e-ciggie, and the reaction was better than I had hoped. Indeed, my counsellor spoke of a time when he could see e-ciggies being used on prescription by the NHS...if indeed there is an NHS still left by then! The problem with them is that there have been no peer reviewed, clinical studies into their effects; be they positive or negative. The ciggies use a propellant that could cause lung problems, however, it is the same propellant used in asthma inhalers, so that may be a mute point! One of the other problems is that they do not provide a measured dose of nicotine. Again, cartridges are now sold with set amounts of nicotine...including nicotine free...as we discussed this, I could sense his confidence in his negative arguments fading...and so I pulled the coup de grace..."I think I might become addicted to these..."

 

We then discussed how I should use the e-ciggie as a safety net only. To be used only when I would otherwise knock one of the boys into the middle of next week for chipping a mug or putting the casserole dishes away, without stacking them according to size, for example. And then only to be used outside, in the howling wind and rain; to make it as inconvenient as possible. I think this is a fine idea and I will start implementing it as soon as possible. Maybe tomorrow...or the day after!

Stoptober...day 4

Is it only day four? I'm in the danger zone now...for the next two weeks I have to guard against complacency. The first hurdle is giving up for those first few days, saying no to all those cravings...now, I have to guard against those thoughts that say things like 'well done you..that wasn't so hard...you can give up any time...why don't you just have one to prove it?' And that would be a slippery slope to ruin....but sooo easy at this point...

No nicotine fuelled dreams to report...I'm sure there was one but I had to hit the floor running as teenage son woke me at six to tell me he had a migraine...and so, I have had company today. And so my day has been spent vegging in front of the telly, watching Alien films. Distinct lack of cravings and naughty tempting thoughts this morning...but I finished my e-ciggie! This is disappointing, I was hoping it would last a little longer. The packet says that it is the equivalent of 30 ciggies...however, money wise, it does not equate to my normal smoking habit. I normally spent £7 per week on tobacco, which does not equate to £6 every three days on the e-ciggie...it would seem that I need to restrict my use of this technological marvel...I think that a re-chargeable one may be the way forward...and possibly look at nicotine free cartridges...it's all very confusing! Plus, I don't have a great deal of money to play with...

Smoking clinic in the morning...not sure how much of a lecture I'm going to get about the e-ciggie...oh well!

Stoptober diary...day 3

Day 3.

 

Strange nicotine fuelled dream last night involved marrying my ex-partner (vomits) and flying to the Caribbean in a light plane that had to make a forced landing in the ocean. The pilot then drove the plane up a street and took off again...I'm assuming this is my sub-conscious telling me that my last relationship was a plane crash....YES! I FECKING WELL KNOW THAT!!

 

Finding everything a bit of a chore today...unable to find any enthusiasm for anything and am finding myself watching day time television; the sure fire way to brain entropy...A few cravings today but nothing major. The biggest problem is the way thoughts keep popping into my head...'I'll just have a ciggie before I do that...'...'Ooh...a ciggie would be nice' This is the biggest problem...these thoughts just pop in there and are difficult to dismiss. Annoying little mind worms!!

 

Today has been doubly stressful as I have had to go to the docs to get my coil changed...But Ms Monkey, I hear you cry, you are a spinster! Why put yourself through such manoeuvres? I did ask myself that for several hours this morning...nothing quite like having a piece of sharp plastic rammed up your cervix, without pain relief, to put the necessity of contraception into sharp perspective. However, what sold it to me in the end, was the thought of no more periods for the rest of my life...at my age 'the change' is just around the corner and so five minutes of discomfort for another eight years lacking hormonal roller coaster rides and monthly 'builders visits' suits me just fine, thank you very much! And so, I was a little early puffing away at the old e-ciggie today, but I have successfully resisted the temptation to puff on a real one...that feeling of smugness is back!

 

As the addition of the e-ciggie to my arsenal was a last minute thought, I didn't shop around but bought a disposable one from the local co-op. It's very good...although I have little to compare to...however, today I decided to buy another one...just in case this one runs out! This one is going strong...but best to be prepared! I have no idea how long it will last, but if I end up getting through one a week, I may have to consider a rechargeable one. I have done a little research, and they seem to come in a variety of colours, although this one looks like a real ciggie...apart from the glowing blue light on the end. I do quite like the idea of the 'matt black' e-ciggie, very goth! They also come in a variety of flavours, including 'branded' flavours, such as; Old Holborn or Camel...I am a little dubious as to whether these flavours will translate accurately, but there are also interesting flavours such as strawberry, chocolate & whiskey...who would've thought? One can also vary the amount of nicotine one intakes, from 35mg to 0. They've certainly come on a long way since their dodgy Chinese origins...Although, I would recommend that you only purchase them from a reputable UK seller! I shall write more on this subject as the days progress...

Stoptober diary...day 2

Day 2:

 

Last night's nicotine fuelled dream involved running off and becoming a cowboy...I wasn't a very good one, rustlers stole the panda....yes, I said panda.

 

I have woken up with a throat that feels like it has been sandpapered...I think I may have been a little over enthusiastic with the e-ciggie yesterday. I shall have to resolve to save it for those moments of total desperation. I feel as if my cold has come back, as all of the phlegm loosens up. My nose is running and I feel the urge to cough up big lumps of ...well, nasty.

 

This morning seems a little easier. Today, I feel a little smug that I have made it through 24 hours without a smoke. The cravings are not as strong and they're not popping into my head every five minutes....just every fifteen!

 

By lunch time, I have really had enough of the chewing gum...it is starting to leave an unpleasant taste in my mouth and my jaws are starting to ache. I make it until two o'clock before I have a puff on the old e-ciggie...it makes me cough...I take this as a good sign!

 

Feeling stressed by about 4pm, it feels like my lungs are screaming for a ciggie...my brain takes my lungs aside and tells them to stop being such a pussy...when that fails, it administers a slap and tells them that they are just going to have to make do with the e-ciggie as we are not even contemplating failure, especially at less than 48 hours tobacco free!

Evenings are normally a weak time; there is nothing so pleasurable as a cigarette after a meal. And so I disappear to my room, praying that the children won't pop in to see me and chatter about some inanity...I might just bite their heads off. I shall, therefore, be puffing like Ivor the engine on the old e-ciggie tonight!

Stoptober diary

And so, dear friends, Ms Monkey has decided to give up the fags. It's not the first time I have tried to quit the noxious weed, I made just shy of two weeks last time and then spent six months just smoking two or three a day. But, inevitably that crept up and I found myself puffing away on about fifteen a day....still an improvement on the forty a day habit I used to have but not tobacco free.

Now, I enjoy smoking. I love the sensation of the cool smoke as it draws down my throat and I like the flavour. It is the perfect accompaniment to a pint and a wonderful treat after a meal. However, it's also killing me and I have no desire to die...goth or no, death does not become this Monkey! Besides, I have little enough energy with my depression, that little energy I do have I want to utilize to the maximum. There are also the matters of nagging sore throats, chesty coughs, stinking like smelly old ashtray. Don't even get me started on the cost...

I WANT TO RETAKE CONTROL!!!!

And so I have decided that enough is enough and today is the day. And so, I shall endeavour to write a little something; a quitters diary if you will, to share my experiences and, hopefully, motivate me NOT to relapse and give in to temptation. Misery loves company dear reader...

I am using a combination of methods...I am that weak willed...a 24 hour nicotine patch, quick mist inhaler and electronic cigarette. My electronic ciggie has died...not a good start! The patch feeds you a constant stream of nicotine over the day, supposedly relieving the cravings....supposedly. However, the glue isn't the strongest and they have a tendency to fall off. They also have a tendency to irritate my skin and I am left with a wonderful chequerboard effect on my legs. One interesting side effect of them is to make you sleep lighter, giving you the most wonderful, vivid dreams.

 

Quick mist gives an instant hit and is much better at relieving those annoying cravings...it does, however, taste like peppermint battery acid...I pop a bit of chewing gum in at the same time to suppress the need to spit it out...another problem is that if you swallow too quickly after squirting you get a spectacular fit of hiccoughing. Have to admit that by about three in the afternoon I have had enough mint to last me a life time...

The electronic cigarette is not recommended for those giving up...according to my long suffering smoking counsellor, it is not advised because of the variable amount of nicotine it delivers...and, initially, because a lot of them were dodgy Chinese imports with no controls. Things have changed now and you can buy them at the local supermarket. You can also buy nicotine free ones...mine isn't! They work by providing a smoking sensation and releasing clouds of water vapour...now these really do satisfy that smoking craving...one only needs a couple of puffs to get a sense of release...of course, a time will come when I have to wean myself off these little blighters....but I'm not going to worry about that for a while!

Day 1:

 

I awake and instantly think about smoking...not a normal early morning thought...but today is the day. I try to spend the day in bed...I haven't smoked in my bedroom for years, nor do I have any cravings while I am asleep. However, an argument breaks out between sons as to who is wearing whose school trousers interrupts my pleasant slumber and I am forced to get up...

As I make a cup of tea and blearily try to feed the cats, I am thinking how one little roll up wouldn't hurt...I am strong and retreat to the living room with my cup of tea. All day, I think of smoking constantly...my electronic cigarette refuses to charge, which does my temper no good. By lunch time I have a chesty cough as all that tar starts to loosen up...I resist the unladylike urge to spit large grollys into the sink. I can smell more than I could yesterday....my dog smells...no, she stinks...by lunchtime I am in the car and off to the co-op to buy an e cigarette...I make it till 4pm before using it...I can't face anymore quickmist, its left a minty corpse like flavour in my mouth...my cough disappears and the e ciggie has a bonus of relieving the cravings post evening meal...but I now have a sore throat...

 

I am going to have an early night, once those teeth are clean, the cravings will stop and I can sleep like a baby...tomorrow, Scarlet, is another day!

A boiler too far...plus a little Dunkirk spirit

Boiler less Diary. Day 1. The radiators are covered in wet clothing after our drenching at Eden..they will now stay wet.

Yes, Ms Monkey's boiler has gone and died on her. Not at the most opportune moment either! On Saturday, Ms Monkey went to see Tim Minchin at one of the Eden sessions. Imagine, if you will, a warm, balmy evening. The scent of herbal oils and citrus blossom from the Mediterranean biome, wafting gently on the breeze. The subtle flavours of tannins and fruits caressing your taste buds from a fine red wine. The heat of the day gradually dissipating, as one is entertained with amusing, witty anecdotes and songs.

It was nothing like this!

Imagine, instead, a months worth of rain falling in one evening. Imagine wind, gusting at forty miles an hour. Imagine wearing so many layers to keep warm that you dare not enter the biomes for fear of overheating and not being prepared to remove any, for fear of soaking oneself because every outer layer is dripping. I had over compensated on the layer front, as sitting in a wheelchair for any length of time is a chilly experience. Sitting in a puddle, in a wheelchair, is close to soul destroying. Imagine going to a gig in wellies and waterproofs and still being soaked to the skin (brollies were not permitted!).

Drenched does not even come close to describing how wet we were by the end of the evening. luckily, it wasn't too cold....but my mittens looked like a pair of dead otters by the end of the night and sitting in my wheelchair (mobile puddle) meant I had a soggy sit-upon. I opted for the cider, rather than wine, as it lasts longer.....it lasts eternally when it is constantly diluted by a deluge from the heavens. Now I like Mr Minchin, but must confess, I was praying that he wouldn't do more than one encore (he didn't). I wish I had had my hip flask with me....or maybe a hot water bottle! I have no photos of the evening, my camera is not waterproof...neither, it would appear, are my waterproofs!

Boiler less Diary. Day 2. The sun is shining. Who needs a boiler? Still have wet clothes, perhaps a washing line would help?

One should be grateful, however, for small mercies. At least we weren't on the Isle of White!

Are we having fun yet? (Isle of White Festival; courtesy of Huffington Post)

We decided to take the dogs for a walk at Gwithian....we forgot the dogs were banned. A quick U-turn found us at Upton Towans, which is a sandy beach with little pools, running down to the sea. My dog decides it's toilet time. Not by the car, nice and convenient like, no, by the sea. And not on the sand for easy scooping....no, she stands up to her leg pits in a pool and poops away and guess what? It doesn't all float! And you know the worst thing? Putting your hands into a pool of water to fish out poo and finding that your bag isn't water tight....nice! I normally carry a spare, but typically, on this day I had forgotten....thank all that's unholy for friends with poo bags! *note to self: buy hand sanitiser!

Ms Monkey goes fishing for strange fish

Boiler less Diary. Day 3. The rain has started again...the gas board cannot send anyone until tomorrow....and I had to pull the disabled card to get anybody that quick! I must wait in all day. It's cold and damp...I think I might have frost nip!

Of course my big mistake was to have a bath on the Thursday before the weekend (no, I don't bathe everyday; I'm single). My second big mistake was not to dye my roots as soon as I removed my hair extensions. I now feel like a tramp!

Boiler less Diary. Day 4. The gas man has come! He switched the boiler on and it worked...he serviced it....and then condemned it. My seals have gone and my fan sounds wonky. There is only one repairman on tomorrow for the whole of West Cornwall. I must wait in all day. It is raining and cold. I may have frost bite. There is a funny smell....

Now I smell like a tramp! I can't carry kettles of boiling water up the stairs anymore....I am not filling the bath with a Trangia! The house also smells; we suffer a lot from damp here in Cornwall and my house isn't exactly waterproof. There is a distinct smell of mildew....lovely!

Boiler less Diary. Day 5. The gas man has come. Two arrived at the same time. Just like buses. Neither had the right fan. They have ordered the right fan. Maybe. It will come tomorrow. I must wait in all day. It is raining and cold. I definitely have frostbite. There is still a funny smell....I may have gangrene...I have attempted to hide it with deodorant. Perhaps there is a dead hooker behind the sofa. She may have snuck in to die...possibly of hypothermia!

I have been camped in my living room, under a blanket, since Sunday. So this is what retirement is like....

Boiler less Diary. Day 6. To compound my misery, a roving pack of Jehovah's Witness's circled today. Sadly the fire that I had lit in the living room was not sufficient to keep them from my door and I could not hide as they had spotted me through the window. However, my coherent scientific arguments were strong enough to repel them. The Damned sweatshirt probably helped.

The gas men came back after lunch, they had a selection of fans. I do like to see determination! After much swearing and the sound of loud bangs and crashes, they emerged smiling and left me with warming radiators and the promise of a toasty bath, filled with bubbles and soft scents.

Spring festival type thing...

Well it's that time of the year when you religious types celebrate things rising from the dead (you see, you do have things in common with us gothic types...we like vampires and zombies too!). In the Monkey household, it is this time of the year when the Black Rabbit of Inlé visits the garden to shit chocolate.....(which part of 'goth' didn't you understand?).

The Black Rabbit of Inlé - Sapphire Gamgee

This results in the annual Monkey House egg hunt. You are never too old to have an egg hunt in my opinion. And there is nothing more rewarding than watching children running round the garden, like headless chickens, whilst you know where the bodies are buried....so to speak! Of course, on occasion, the egg hunt has gone on for so long that one does actually forget where one hid them. Of course, Lolli is wise to this now and waits, like some patient, overfed vulture, to see if any of the spoils of plunder will come her way. Now, I'm sure you are aware that chocolate is poisonous to dogs. Lolli seems to be the exception to this rule and is a regular indulger of all things under canine prohibition, if given half the chance. I have lost more than one half-pound bar of Galaxy to that mutt; along with cups of tea and glasses of Baileys. And don't even get me started on the amount of chicken carcasses she has stolen from the bin, it would appear she has a cast iron constitution. However, I have now taken steps to ensure she doesn't get her paws on all that spring time chocolate goodness.....I now only leave plastic eggs, filled with boiled sweets, at terrier height. I also count all of the chocolate eggs out and all of them back in, to ensure that none stay in the garden unaccounted for! (I have to write this down.....I am an old fart after all).

There would appear to have been a delivery!

Now the assault from beloved children, starts the minute I open my eyes. "Has the Easter Bunny been? Has the Easter Bunny been?" No, the Easter Bunny hasn't had a cup of tea or even managed to make it from the bedroom to the toilet yet! This continual 'pester power' carries on until I eventually lose the plot and explode in a fit of motherly expletives. Now Dude has only recently realised that the Easter Bunny is not in fact some kind hearted, leporine egg donator; but a grumpy, middle aged old goth who needs a caffeine intake prior to secreting, or indeed loosing, chocolate treats around the garden.

Competition is fierce, someone may lose a limb!

We have been lucky, the past few years, as the weather has been favourable for an outside hunt. Only once, in recent years, have I been forced to hide ovoid treats about the house, much to the interest of our chocolate loving canine.

You would think by now, that my soon to be 16 year old would be too cool for running bedlam like, around the garden for a few bits of cheap chocolate. But no, it would appear it is quite easy to sell one's street cred down the Swanee for a little of the cocoa bean! No doubt beer and ladies will have the same effect in a few years time...although I draw the line at hiding eligible batchellorettes around the property! I might concede to hiding a few tinnies though. Although not that early on a Sunday morning! Seems like only yesterday it was Pokemon and Yugi-Oh, now it's posh trainers and jeans that show more underwear than Katie Price on a photo shoot. I despair, although I suppose it's the rebellious equivalent of me dying my hair black and stomping around in Doc Martins and tartan mini skirts....and just as practical. The wind didn't half used to whip around ones nether regions. Although I tended to wear at least two pairs of garishly clashing tights underneath, albeit somewhat ripped and often 'fish netted'.

It would appear that a teenager can sniff out chocolate with only the minimum of training

Of course! This large, lazy cat will help me sniff out eggs

One thing that emerged with egg hunting, fairly early on, was that Dude has no real talent for finding eggs. Gee's patient, methodical hunting reaps him the lions share and so pooling the egg finds is the only way to ensure fairness between brothers. Dude's manic 'run around without actually lifting anything' method, fails to produce much but he has fun and big brother is magnanimous enough to sit back and allow him to play the 'colder'/'warmer' game....for a few minutes anyway.

I have considered taking them to organised egg hunts, but both boys are too old for anything local and boredom would soon set in for Number 1 son, if I could persuade the organisers to allow number 2 son to join in. And number 2 son would be reluctant to share his finds.

I have to say though, that my favourite part of Easter Sunday is the chance to splurge out on a nice joint of dead cow. A good piece of beef is too expensive for our budget normally, so it's nice to have a big lump of it on occasion. It does last for three meals, so I justify it to myself that way...although what I will do with three quarters of a jar of horseradish sauce I don't know?

Dead cow and a few veggies from the garden....nom, nom, nom

Where wolf?

Ms Monkey has just finished watching an interesting documentary, by the BBC, called The Land of the Lost Wolves. It's all about a pioneering group of wolves who have/had (sadly most of them didn't escape gun toting hunters) settled in the Cascade Mountains in North America and it reminded me of a fabulous encounter that I had with wolves while staying in Spain.

I had gone to stay in Spain with my then paramour, whilst he sorted out a property deal with his mother (they had a funny old relationship; whereby, he had moved to Spain and she had followed him out there. She was a strange old fish, who had real problems cutting the apron strings.....this probably accounted for some of his peculiar baggage. She later followed him back to the UK, I should have cut and run then, but hey ho!). On this particular evening, we had returned to her house for a bite to eat and a few glasses of what can only be described as red vinegar, before heading out to see what joys the local area had to offer in the way of night life (night clubs that looked like they were designed by Gaudi on acid, with an interior courtesy of Giger....they did very large goldfish bowl glasses full of vodka with a dash of coke as well, if my memory serves me.....it gets a bit hazy).

Now, she lived in a little shack, just outside of the town of Concentiana. About an hour inland from Benidorm (we went there, for an afternoon, about two years later.....and yes, it is everything you could want to hate about a resort. People call it Birmingham on Sea, but quite frankly I would say that is an insult to Birmingham.....and I'm not keen on going there! It does, however, have better weather). Now the area is mountainous (in the same way that Snowdonia is like the Alps.....the locals call them mountains and I certainly wouldn't want to climb one.....but then I have trouble with the stairs, so don't ask me....but I would say, they were really high hills but with some very big cliffs and steep bits. I remember visiting the Rockies as a teenager with my Canadian cousin. I exclaimed at the height of the mountains as we drove along....she laughed and said "these aren't mountains, these are foothills!" She was right!) and very rural. The hill sides were lined with olive groves and clusters of fruit trees, all surrounded in aromatic, herbal scrub called Maquis.

Her piece of land overlooked a river valley, and during the day a sizable flock of sheep could be seen grazing in the meadows adjoining the river. They could also be heard; as they had bells around their necks, which clanged gently and discordantly as they went about their business. You could just make out a shepherd (only because he seemed to have a penchant for royal blue jackets.....no accounting for taste.....of course it could be his uniform.....although I'm not aware of any such designation.....is there a guild of shepherds? What colour did Bo Peep wear?) and a motley assortment of canines, in a variety of shapes and colours....one man and his dog it was not!

My swain's mother was inside, putting on her slap or some such thing, and we were sat on the terrace, drinking terrible, chilled red wine. We had music on in the background and I remember that Gorillaz 'Clint Eastwood' was playing. I can remember thinking about all the spaghetti westerns that Mr Eastwood had stared in and wondering if they were filmed near where we were. At that moment, there was a ruckus from below us in the valley. The sheep started to cry out and their bells all started clanging noisily. A cacophony of barks erupted from the dogs and my companion turned to me saying "I wonder what that's all about?" "Wolves!" I said, probably still having day dreams of the 'Wild West' in my mind. "Don't be silly, we're only 2 miles from Town. Besides, I don't think they have wolves in Spain." I was just about to retort that I was sure I had seen a documentary about wolves in France, when the howling started.

Now there is something very primal about wolves howling. It calls to that imprint in our DNA that immediately triggers fight or flight....suddenly you are a stone age hunter-gatherer, wishing for a very big fire and a very big stick! I could feel all of the hairs standing up on the back of my neck and my beau's mother's dog started to growl from beneath my chair. Without realising it, we had both risen from our chairs and looked at each other with wonder. It was difficult to tell where the wolves were or how many of them there were, as the howls bounced around the hills but it felt as if we were surrounded by a lupine chorus. And then suddenly, it was quiet again and I realised I had been holding my breath. It can only have lasted a few minutes, but I would have to describe it as one of the most magical moments of my life.

We returned to Spain a couple of years later and stayed a few miles down the road in a slightly remoter villa. I hoped to hear the dulcet tones of those sun loving wolves once again, but it was not to be. But it was wonderful, to have been so close to such a shy, elusive predator and one day, I would like to hear the songs of wild wolves again!

The Iberian Wolf - It's moments like this which make Ms Monkey question which side of the Werewolves Vs Vampires debate she is actually on!

Funny weather we've been having!

Well, hasn't the weather been a bit peculiar lately? Summer in March and now it's snowing 'oop north'. But snow in April isn't unheard of, so don't go shouting about the coming of the 'ice age' round here! In fact Ms Monkey remembers snow on her birthday during her childhood (on a cable car at Woburn Safari Park....an open cable car....that stopped for 10 minutes) and that's on the glorious 14th. (Yes, I am looking forward to the Titanic Anniversary, as at least no one will have an excuse for forgetting this wonderful day of celebration.....and yes I know it sank on the 15th, just, but it met the iceberg on the 14th.)

So for all of you poor Northerners, wading through the snow to go about your business, I thought I would feature a few photo's that I took at the weekend to warm the cockles of your hearts (these are apparently the chambers of your heart and not, disappointingly, anything to do with a rather yummy seafood).

Looking over towards St Ives from Gwithian, not a tidal wave in sight!

The album cover shot (note moody teenage 'hands in pockets' look)

Water so clear you could drink it! Except of course it is seawater,
so you would be sick!

Truth - the moment of!

I am Seagull, look ye mighty on my works and despair...

Wahoo! Seagull on a rock! I'll catch it for you!

I may have slightly miscalculated the depth of the water...and I had my hair
done yesterday...you do have alternative plans for dinner I hope?

The obligatory lighthouse shot (doesn't that water look tropical....it was 10 degrees C)

Lolli does a fair impression of the dragon from Neverending Story

The glories of a Cornish sunset (thanks to next door for planting that palm tree
in just the right place to lend a little tropicana to my photo)

Well, I hope I have warmed your cockles on this chilly spring day....chilly for you lot that is!

Note, to the Cornish tourist board, cheques can be made payable to Ms B Monkey Esq.

Off to River Cottage!

Well, it has been glorious weather this week and it has coincided with The River Cottage 'Get Growing in Spring' Fayre. Now, for those of you who don't know Ms Monkey, I should tell you that I am a bit of a River Cottage fan and will venture a visit whenever I am able. The Fayres are a low cost way of spending the day, pottering about and absorbing the ambiance....plus, they always attract purveyors of fine organic fayre, country crafts and horticultural odds and sods.

A familiar sight....the legend that is River Cottage

For those of you who aren't aware and live in a cave; River Cottage is a program on Channel 4 about chef Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and his quest to down-size and live a sustainable life. This quest has been partially successful. In that; the initial down-sizing has now up-sized because of the success of the program and general desire of a increasingly large number of people to live the River Cottage dream, myself included (although it will be a few years yet before I can sort out the small-holding bit as I shall need partners). I've met Hugh a few times and he's a lovely bloke, not celebrityfied at all and he has a marvellous recollection for faces.....or strange gothy hairdos anyway! And no, I do not have the 'hots' for him, Dave Vanian he ain't......sorry Hugh!

Now, getting there turned out to be a bit of a mission. My beloved Pearl is distinctly unwell at the moment. Her head gasket has gone and after removing the head the garage found it to be cracked. All that time driving the poor dear around, thinking I had a dodgy exhaust!! So, to replace the head I was quoted upwards of £400 by various breakers yards but to purchase a reconditioned engine would cost £300. No contest really! So she is currently undergoing an engine transplant, fingers crossed!! So the garage has lent me a VW Polo. This is great as it costs a lot less to run than the Pearl, but bad, because it is a manual. This created a huge problem; because of my disability I am unable to use the clutch or accelerator for long periods. Luckily, good ole Mrs McGregor stepped up to the plate and offered to drive said car up to Axminster, drop us off and then go questing for fossils on the Jurassic Coast.

And so we, the Monkey offspring and I, were dropped off at about eleven on the most beautiful sunny March day. There was barely a breeze and so it was definitely T-shirt weather....although Ms Monkey had not packed the factor 50, so spent the day sweltering in her black polo neck. However, ice cold Stinger beer helped to ease the heat. Stinger beer is about the only beer Ms Monkey will drink and is flavoured with nettles! They do make a big difference to the flavour, although I would rather have cider! But on a hot, sweaty March day it hit the spot! Young master Gee was allowed to have a few sips as well, although after the first few swigs he was more interested in peeling off the label than quaffing a fine ale. (Ms Monkey's view on alcohol and children has always been one of demystification. They can have it if they want it; but I'm not bailing them out of prison or cleaning up their sick! So best they do it in moderation! It seems to be working so far and they drink a lot less than I did when I was a teenager.....to be honest they couldn't drink much more and still be alive......Ms Monkey's recollection of the teenage years is a little hazy).

So, what can you do to annoy a sunbathing teenager?

Bingo! "Now, if only I had filled full of water first", thinks Dude

There were various lectures throughout the day, although my miserable brood refused to allow me to sit through more than one. I managed to catch Gil's lecture on cooking Razor clams, which made me extremely hungry! There were also lectures on foraging from John Wright, gardening talks from Mark Diacano and The Three Hungry Boys talking about....being hungry! Mostly we go to the River Cottage Fayres for the ambience and the shopping.....next time the children can stay at home!!

We did come home with some fabulous purchases:

Burn, baby burn.....I can see some regrets in the near future

Our first fabulous purchase, was a couple of chili plants, one of which is the legendary Dorset Naga. Let's put this into context, a Scotch Bonnet chili tests at about 150,000 - 325, 000 SHU (Schoville Heat Units - basically, how many drops of water are needed to dilute the chili to a point of neutrality), whilst a Dorset Naga is about 1 million SHU. After a stern lecture regarding responsible behaviour (mostly directed at Gee.....in other words I need to keep it in a safe and count the fruit each morning to make sure he's not taking any to school) we were sold a little plant, I shall call him George! Now I know Gee wants to try one; I shall be standing by with a fire extinguisher filled milk or lassi (that's a yogurt drink not a dog), as does my dear friend Juice. I, on the other hand, think that I might just make some chili sauce with the fruit....for special occasions! I also bought a much more 'friendly' chili plant called Fairy Lights, chosen for its purple leaves. It still packs a punch at 50,000 SHU but will be perfect for cooking, me thinks!

Oxalis tuberosa.....no, I haven't a clue what to do with it!

We also got some funny Oxalis tubers, which appear to be grown in South America as an alternative to potatoes (although the chap we bought them off suggested the were similar to radish.....time will tell, I suppose).

Another shrimp for the barbie anyone

We got hold of some fabulous Eco-disposable BBQ's, which will be perfect for the beach this summer. It's basically a carved out piece of tree trunk filled with charcoal, which means no red hot pieces of metal to drag home. A simple but brilliant idea! Wish I'd thought of it......wish I had a chainsaw!

Apart from shopping, one of the reasons for heading up to River Cottage was to have a nosey at their barn. If you weren't aware; a fire ripped through the barn from the kitchen. This was the barn where I have spent many a night, slightly sloshed......alright, completely plastered.....munching on the fabulous foodie offerings that River Cottage has to offer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPMkyLXbrsA Dramatic video alert!

What's left of the Barn

The Barn - Another angle

I really hope they get the barn up and running again soon, Ms Monkey intends to add some more bleary, alcohol soaked, foodie memories to her collection in the not too distant future! Ms Monkey has, today, booked her ticket for the annual members party; where, I can assure you, she will be propping up a bar, sipping elderflower champagne and poking succulent, organic, dead animal round a plate!

Ms Monkey and her old friend Hugh at last years Members' Party

Abscence makes the heart...

Well, Ms Monkey is still feeling slightly guilty at neglecting you all. During February I have had honoured guests to stay and, as it was a birthday celebration, I felt that sitting with my nose in my laptop may have been a tad rude. As I managed to squeeze in at least two hours of The Damned over the weekend (I see people so rarely these days that my Goth tends to runneth over) I feel that I would have been on thin ice to squirrel myself away for a couple of hours to wax lyrical......besides, there were cocktails and birthday cake that required my undivided attention!

One of the lovely things about seeing friends is
 the opportunity for scintillating conversation

It's always lovely to see old friends; I regard them as my family. My close family have all passed away now. I have an uncle, somewhere in London, but we are not in contact and an Aunt and Uncle, with cousins, in the wilds of Canada. I also have some second cousins, several times removed, who I meet up with occasionally and exchange the odd email with. But I am basically an orphan, alone in the world...woe is me (although it doesn't half make events like xmas pass without a hitch!)! And so my friends are my family, we pick each other up and dust each other off, whenever we fall....I seem to fall a lot but they are wonderfully indulgent (and Ms Monkey's past involves a lot of 'daring do', when perhaps it should have involved a little 'daring don't'!).

It was my dear friends McMarkie and Juice who came down to visit. Markie has always been the little brother I never had; although he spends more time looking after others than the description suggests. It was his 41st birthday this weekend (I suppose I should ask him if I am allowed to say his age....ah well, what's done is done) and it was decided that the weekend would be spent sipping [sic] cocktails (quaffing is not really the etiquette for cocktails, but hey, do I look like Miss Manners?), going to the tip (Adios broken tumble dryer, Welkomen and Bienvenue newish tumble dryer - see The delights of housework) and wandering along the beach......tide permitting.

Shaken or stirred? Nah, blend it to within an inch
of its life!

I will be writing an entry regarding those wonderful cocktails, there were some oldies and a few new ones that we tried, which are well worth passing on and perfect for finishing off those left overs  from xmas.....if you still have any.

One thing I always tend to do, when friends are down is push myself. I still want to do all of the things I used to do....not necessarily all the things. (Downing an entire bottle of vodka on the way to a gig and not remembering most of the evening, until coming round on the floor of a public toilet is one of the things that can stay very firmly in the past! There are others, but somethings cannot be spoken of in polite circles....and not so polite circles!)


Sadly, I am not able to do all of the things I used to, although a visit to the beach is a must. Needless to say, disabled access to the beach in question is non-existent, so no chance of using my wheelchair! And so, walking is a must. Unfortunately, these days, I can no longer manage 'walking pace' and snails tend to hair past me on the straight. I, therefore, spend quite a bit of time walking on my own, until the party of intrepid explorers notice that they are down on numbers!
Although not the closest beach to chez Monkey, our favourite beach on the North Coast has to be Gwithian. It is part of St Ives bay, but remains untouched by the usual plethora of 'Kiss me Quick' tourist tack shops. It boasts a toilet, life guard hut, surf shop and two small cafes. But mostly if has miles of sand and a collection of interesting rock pools; stacked with fish and crustaceans, who patiently await the mandatory poking and prodding of small children (and not so small children! Ms Monkey is known for her persistent attempts to catch anything that scuttles or swims, whilst ignoring the constant litany of 'this is boring' from her small brood).

This is why I live in Cornwall! Not sure what Lolli has seen, but she's not noticed that wave behind her!

To the Lighthouse. Godrevy Lighthouse, made famous by Virginia Woolf

During the winter, this stunning bit of the coastline is open to our four legged companions (during the summer they are only allowed on in the evening, which is incredibly annoying as it means that the only part of the beach available to mutts is down a precarious cliff side descent, which anybody with a fear of heights or any type of mobility problems would be unable to tackle. I have tried reasoning with the dog wardens that I just want to use the stairs and 100 yards of beach to pass through but have been threatened with a £200 fine. Bloody jobs Worth's if you ask me!). Because Lolli cannot be trusted on a beach with sand dunes (she has a tendency to bugger off looking for rabbits and only coming back when she's good and ready....which can be in fifteen minutes or, on one occasion 5 hours) this beach is ideal for her. It is her dream to one day catch a seagull (although it will have to be a lame, flightless, blind and hearing impaired seagull).

Having a lovely time. Wish you were here....but only if you have cocktails!

Until next time dear friends xx

An apology

It has been too long dear reader, since I was last here and I must apologise for my neglect but I have had a flare up of my condition. And so, I feel I must put my serious head on for a little while and tell you a little of my story.

I suffer from two health problems which lead to my disability; I have chronic pain syndrome as a result of polyarthropy, caused by what they believe to be multiple-connective tissue disorder. In other words I have faulty wiring which causes my immune system to attack all of my connective tissue (that's the white stuff that isn't muscles and fat). You think your joints pop? Well mine crackle and crunch and grind! I feel as if I have gone rusty and all of my joints ache constantly (except my back....so far that's good....shhh). I try to stay active, as much as possible, but the pain is restricting...I also have a tendency towards inflamed bursa...these are sacs that cushion the joints and bones; typical inflammations are those of 'house maid's knee' or tennis elbow'. I have them under my heels and on my 'sit upon', which makes both standing and sitting painful, I am also prone to tendonitis as a result of favouring certain joints when I'm in pain.

So with all that you won't be surprised to learn that I have clinical depression as well, although to be fair, that was a condition diagnosed before my physical problems really started. People seem to die around me, a lot! (you have been warned) And it was not dealing with these deaths that triggered the depression in the first place....Now it's like an old friend (a not particularly welcome one, who overstays their welcome and has far too many annoying habits) who comes to visit at the most inconvenient times. Now let me be straight about this, depression is not 'feeling misereable' and a bit listless. Depression is crushing; it's rigour without death, an all encompassing ennui. 

Depression fluctuates, for months I plod along with low levels of depression, I can muster the energy to do a few of the day to day things needed for survival. I managed to obtain a reasonable degree (2:1), over the last three years, although not without additional support and countless extensions. But I was determined to finish it, even with another death in the family just towards the end. The fact that I handed in incomplete assignments at the end of the course should have warned me that things were going to explode at some point. Depression is a constant battle and the minute you relax it swamps you like a dark cloud. With me, I shut down and retreat. I sleep for twelve/thirteen hours a day. I don't contact anybody; I can't even bring myself to use a telephone. I stop dealing with the day to day stuff, bills don't get paid, clothes don't get washed, meals don't get cooked....life just grinds to a halt. And that's when the guilt sets in...followed by the paranoia; until even this becomes too much effort. Life becomes a constant battle against inertia. Just being alive requires every ounce of energy and difficult tasks (such as writing this or eating, for example) get pushed to one side.

Churchill, a famous sufferer of the condition (although how he managed to deal with it, run a country and win a war I have no idea!), likened his depression to a black dog, with whom he would fight. It's an interesting allegory. I often liken mine to being stuck down a well, on some days you can climb up high enough to see the daylight, but on others the sides are slick and you cannot get a purchase on them.

So, if Ms Monkey is not about for a while, do not take offence. Sometimes the world is just too big a place and Ms Monkey needs to sit in a darkened corner, listen to dark music and eat lots of chocolate (dark chocolate of course!). I hasten to add, this does not make me an emo.....I have no desire to slice lumps out of my flesh, no desire to throw myself dramatically from a cliff top and no desire to be miserable! Besides, emos weren't invented when Ms Monkey was a 'young thing'!

Until next time mes amis xx

Matthew Johnstone. Copyright SANE

A foraging we will go...better yet, get someone else to do it!

As many of you will know, Ms Monkey is an avid forager! Come late summer I can normally be found, fighting the brambles and up to my arse in spiky foliage, on the quest for various berries to make ingenious, normally alcoholic, concoctions. But at this time of the year there is little greenery about to be of interest, however, now is a fabulous time for shellfish! I will eat any kind of sea creature and the best kind are those you have foraged yourself! Nothing beats taking a stove on to the beach and rustling up a few 'moules mariniere' fresh from the ocean. The sweetness of these wee morsels cannot be over emphasised and I have a few choice spots where I can forage mussels, oysters, shrimps, whelks and winkles, but one little beastie has always evaded me. The Razor Clam (Ennis sp. and Solen marginatus). Now this little blighter lives under the sand, well under the sand...

Now, our local beach provides plenty of shells, ergo, the clams must be there somewhere. However, the mouth of Hayle Estuary is not a good place for food foraging, the intense industrial activity in the estuary during the Nineteenth Century has left heavy metal deposits amongst the sands (although I've yet to find patchouli smelling, greebos hiding out within the dunes!). I have to say, that shell fish, generally, are often found to be containing heavy metals. Providing one isn't about to embark on a shellfish only diet, then one should be fine. Still, I plan on staying away from the mouth of the estuary. Fishermen take lobsters and crab from elsewhere in the bay, so I am assuming that it's perfectly safe. If I start mutating, I will let you know!

Anyway, back to the plot... Now Razor Clams have a tell tale, keyhole shaped siphon hole. But I have never seen any!! Now, I suspect that there may be some dwelling over in Mounts Bay, but the problem is that I never seem to be over that way on a spring tide, or if I am I do not have a pot of salt with me. Salt, I hear you ask? Yes indeedy, the trick is to pour salt into the siphon hole, this will make the Razor Clam 'pop' to the surface to spit the salt out. Gripping the shell by the the edges, you can, slowly, but firmly, pull the clam to the surface. The rules for commercial landing state a minimum of 10cm, so best to let anything smaller go. All parts of the clam are edible, except for the grey stomach. The tastiest part (apparently), is the foot, which when cooked, looks a little like a flaccid....ahem...gentlemans' part! These little devils can be cooked in a variety of ways; barbecued, grilled, boiled etc. They are ready as soon as they cease to be translucent.

Well, I had still to taste these elusive bivalves, so you can imagine my excitement when I received a text from Mrs McGregor saying "At 5pm I shall be sauteing Razor Clams with garlic and shallots, how much do you love me?" Well my answer, as I'm sure you can imagine, was effusive! One of Mrs McGregor's friends had retrieved these whilst diving (the cheater!). At 4.45, Dude and I shot from the house, breaking all sorts of speed laws and possibly one or two laws of physics as well. Well, we arrived just in time for the feast to begin and I can assure you, we licked the plates clean. I would describe the flavour as rich and meaty, whilst also sweet. Only Dude was brave enough to eat the foot...although, as I have previously mentioned, it is, supposedly, the most tasty bit. Next time I will have more courage...

Of course, there has been another bonus from our marine plunder...dozens of razor shells, for converting into mobiles and wind chimes....and the cats got the scraps, well Tyson did anyway...nothing went to waste!!

I can feel a project coming on...