When circumstances attack!

Just a quick little note really. Sorry there hasn't been much to read this week, but circumstances have ganged up on us again!

Dude got attacked on his way home from school. Two boys and a girl decided to make my little man's life a misery. He was knocked to the floor and hit about the head and had the contents of his bag strewn about. He is, as you can understand, somewhat traumatised by all of this.

The school have, I am pleased to say, been swift in their dealing of this and all 3 children (they are the same age, eleven!) have been suspended. Further action will be taken against the lad who committed the actual assault, of which I will be informed when the Head's decision has been reached.

Dude, unfortunately makes an easy target for bullies. He doesn't have many friends and is quite immature in comparison to his peers. He suffered a lot from bullying in his lower school, a point that made me consider moving him from mainstream school when he moved up. But, he argued strenuously against it and I was told that there would be little chance of funding for a place out of mainstream.

He has had a little bit of time off, but I have encouraged him to go back and luckily his peers have only shown concern towards him since he went back. I don't want to end up in a repeat situation that we had in his last school, where he was frightened to go in and worked himself up into such a state that he couldn't see anyway forward. It is so hard to hear your child talking about wishing himself dead. But at least he was talking!

Gee has had to be throttled back from wanting to 'Kick the living shit out of them'. No matter how tempting it would be, it would only end up with him being in all kinds of trouble in a very important year academically. Plus, in my belief, violence is not the solution, instead they need to be turned into the pariahs!

I really would like to know what we have done to piss Karma off so much!

One step forward.... and a little furry introduction

I really should have learnt by now, that one day of feeling back to normal doesn't mean that my current flare up is over. A fitful night's sleep, not helped by one of the boys' alarm going off at 3am, found me unable to rise this morning. All of the days plans to go to Truro and see my GP have fallen by the wayside as I struggle to find the enthusiasm to even make a cup of tea.

And so now i find myself wracked with guilt at the thought of another day wasted. Dude's trainers, sit in their box by the front door, still too small for him. The cats look longingly at their dry food dispenser and Spitfire bleats pitifully that cats of their station should not be treated in such a manner. I should point out that they have tinned food, but like to graze on a few crunchy morsels during the day...of course they could go out and catch something. There are plentiful rabbits and small scurrying rodents in the dunes behind the house, but it's all far too much trouble.

And where is my biscuit then?

Spitfire, the only queen, is descended from feral stock, her wild mother decided to have her kittens in my dining room, and is an adept hunter. She often brings back adult rabbits twice her size and the two foot rats that appear, periodically, on the lawn are gifts from her, I believe. And yet, she wouldn't say boo to a goose...mind you, I don't think I would either. Not without a running start, anyway!

I know where you live..

Tyson, is a handsome, smokey tabby and an utter thug. I have no doubt that he could hunt, but he would rather 'strut his stuff' and mug Spitfire for her kills. I have seen him intimidate her into dropping some small furry prize, picking it up and then proudly depositing its sad, little corpse at my feet. It's not as if he can't move like greased weasel shit, when he puts his mind to it though. Lolli takes particular pleasure in chasing him out of the garden, when she is feeling mischievous! Normally at dinner times!!

No one has stolen the radiator whilst I've been guarding it!

Po is our elder statesman. He is fifteen and has never liked the outside world. He spends his time, asleep, on a stool in the kitchen, next to the radiator or draped across my shoulders like a purring fox-fur stole ; albeit plumper and heavier!

He is the last of a trio of black cats, who moved down with my Father, Gee and I from Northampton, where I spent most of my formative years. There's very little point in me telling you much about growing up in Northampton, as Andrew Collins has already produced a couple of fine books on the joys of growing up 100 yards from me (bastard!!) They are very insightful though, do check them out: Where did it all go right & Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now (Ebury Press: Random House). The only difference being...well, he's a bloke and he actually bothered at school...two differences...and although we 'hung' in the same places, we moved in slightly different circles...all right three differences! I didn't expect the Spanish Inq..No! I will not be drawn into dodgy Monty Python sketches!...Well not often, anyway!

An Xmas morning hug and suitably festive collar!

The last, and latest, feline member of our family is Jake. Jake is Dude's companion and at six months old is really still a kitten. Jake fell into our laps when a friend was given him as an unwanted kitten. At about the same time I was encouraged by Dude's Barnardo's worker to give him some more responsibility. Dude has taken very well to the role of cat 'mother', although there is quite a bit of grumbling when Jake has enriched our olfactory senses with a little 'gift' in the litter tray! In return Jake is pliant and long suffering, he doesn't scratch if Dude gets too rough but will mewl piteously when over loved!

Jake is the only member of the family to have grown up with Lolli, whom he regards as an equal, instead of with a mixture of loathing and fear. Lolli was quite protective of him when he was a kitten. Shepherding him around the garden, so that he didn't go far from the house. The novel of a new kitty soon wore off, however, as Jake developed a disturbing habit of weeing on her bed. A habit he has now, thankfully, grown out of!

And finally, a word should be said about Lolli, our sole canine companion. Lolli is a rough-haired Jack Russell, with an odour that cannot be described by words within  the English language. Bathing does little to remove the smell, it just makes it slightly less fiendish and more like damp-dog, combined with sweaty horse blanket. We currently have a resident fox in the neighbourhood, who would appear to conspire with our beloved mutt; by leaving smelly deposits in the garden. Lolli is particularly fond of bathing in these odorous gifts, and there is nothing more frustrating than searching round the house for the source of the vomit inducing smell, before realising that it is following you, enthusiastically matted into the fur of one's long time companion! A real rat on a string!! Lolli's other bad habits include snoring like a portly, elderly gentleman infront of the cricket (even when she's awake!), barking at seagulls farting and other 'obvious' triggers (usually during moments when intense concentration is needed or particularly tense moments in scary films), stealing chocolate, tea and Baileys (poisonous to dogs? I don't think so!), peeing on friends carpets, redistributing the contents of the bin, trying to start fights with other dogs when on the lead (yes even Rottwielers!) and running away for hours when not on the lead (the last one cost £150 in vets bills when she ran off a cliff...maybe, we don't know exactly....we weren't there)!

But, she is intelligent and affectionate. She is loyal, following me around the house like a shadow. She is ever tolerant of the boys, particularly Dude and his rough play. She doesn't eat other dogs' poo, is never car sick and will pee on command on long journeys. She has a proper bark, not some terrier yap and is always pleased to see you, no matter how long it has been!

I don't think I could live without animals now, they really do become part of the family! And we are a pretty odd ball family at the best of times!

The sea, the sea...I see the sea

Some days I like to go down to our local beach and check that no one has snuck off with the sea while I've not been looking. Although it is not one of Cornwall's best beaches, Hayle beach is part of St Ives bay, probably the one of the best beaches in the UK. It is, literally 10 minutes from my doorstep, but these days I have to drive and pay parking fees for the privilege of going there (there are additional costs from being disabled that some people tend to overlook...ay Mr Cameron?)

It is a car park with a lovely view, however.

Gee and his friends (current lady friend amongst them!), had decided to remain at home to watch the Inbetweeners movie for the umpteenth time. So Dude and I sallied forth to meet with the McGregor family. Mrs McGregor is one of my closest friends and co conspirator in various celebrity stalking efforts. It was down to her that I got to meet my teenage (and still going strong) crush and lead singer of my favourite band; Mr David Vanian (I have photo's...if you ask nicely I will show you them). She is also a fellow horticulturist, black belt DIYer and general good egg. She sings a mean ABBA song, especially after a few glasses of the old vino! The family have a delightful teenage daughter, the delightful Miss C and a son, Master H, who, like Dude is awaiting a diagnosis from the CAMHS team. Oh yes, she also has a husband, we all have our crosses to bear!

Dude was very keen to try out his Xmas sled on the sand dunes and so had brought both his and Gee's for both him and Master H to play on. I have to say they were remarkably effective!

Who needs snow? Not us....which is good because we never really get any down here!

With the men occupied with physical pursuits, us ladies potter along the high tide line looking for interesting flotsam and jetsam. This is a good beach for shell and small pieces of driftwood and, it would appear, dead sea birds! This has apparently been caused by the use of gill netting in the bay. Weather conditions have driven large numbers of bass into the bay and the birds have followed. If the nets are not attended to during the day, the birds become entangled and drown. The sheer number of corpses is quite horrific! There are a couple of articles about it in our local press:  http://www.thisiscornwall.co.uk/Talks-sought-dead-birds/story-14400132-detail/story.html

Half an hour of pottering and I'm ready to drop, we have a good haul of shells and I have brought a couple of the corpses back to strip for mobiles...a little bit goth, remember! Mrs McGregor is a collector of bones and skulls...she may not wear black or sport the eyeliner, but she is firmly in touch with her inner goth!

Heading back into, what can only be described as bitterly cold wind, we head back to the car.

The Monkey House

Where are my manners? It's high time I showed you round and gave you some idea of the work that needs doing.

This is the Monkey house, the only Georgian villa in a row of Victorian villas. It used to have a porch on the front....yes, that was demolished for the replacement with a hard wood replacement...£5000 later it is so much wood, gathering dust in the workshop. You can't see the front garden from here....probably best. It has been used as a dumping ground for rubble, old childrens' toys and is full of invasive |Crocosmia x crocosmiiflora (Montbretia) and Rubus sp.(Blackberry). As the House is south facing, this will, one day become the home for my soft fruit garden.

The house itself has a bit of a history; it was built for the chief engineer of Harvey's Foundry. It must have looked quite majestic, perched on the cliff overlooking the town and estuary. Now, as you can see, it could do with a lick of paint and the Parthenocissus tricuspidata (Bostons Ivy) could do with bringing under control.

The back of the house has been extended twice.

Well three times if you count the demolished bathroom that is now a hole in the wall covered in plywood....

Through the double front door is tiled hall with a majestic sweeping staircase...

Once majestic, anyway...now more dilapidated, rickety and covered in crap and dog hair...I'm not sure which will get varnished first...the stairs or the dog! So, jobs to do...Electrics, plaster replace broken newel posts, sand stairs...varnish...pick dog hairs out of varnish etc.etc,etc!

From the front entrance are the dated living room

Ah....the local wildlife...not sure if they are friendly...best we not provoke them, they may bite! And they are in this room because of this:

This is their living room...ok, so for the last 5 years it has contained the contents of the kitchen, whilst the kitchen that I paid £2000 for rotted into so much soggy chipboard...(bitter and twisted...Me?)

So now we wander down the hall to the dining room

Now, this was the original kitchen...There are so many problems in this room it's difficult to know where to start...There is the damp coming in from the hole in the wall above, the leaking water tank (living in the hole where the original range would have lived), the old boiler....

And on to the kitchen:

Notice the lack of door knobs...this was all that was left of the kitchen units...I got 4 years of excuses and the kitchen rotted out while I waited...I have learnt my lesson now, but it has been painful and expensive! I now have £70,000 worth of debts and nothing to show for it!

The feline gentleman by the bin is Tyson...so named as a kitten because of his behaviour to his fellow litter mates...this behaviour has not improved over time! He has a tendency to mug our small long haired female, Spitfire, of her kills. He then proceeds to claim them as his own and expects his due reward! Although the reaction to the appearance of a two foot rat on the kitchen floor is probably not what he hoped for!

There is one more downstairs room, behind the servants stairs...(Sadly no servants these days...). This was a bedroom when we moved in but it has now been converted into a utility room...and is now filled with junk!!...Housework is a bit beyond me these days....

I hope this gives you a small insight as to the task that lays ahead....Mount Everest here we come!!

Sometimes, things don't go according to plan...

I had a whole list of things planned for this week, but, whilst Monday started well, by the afternoon I could barely walk and had got myself into a right tizz! Could trimming a couple of shrubs on the Sunday have done this?...Unlikely, it was more likely reading about the coalitions plans for 'refining' DLA that sent me into a trough.

I am sick and tired of being demonized by Cameron and his cronies. The figures speak for themselves for goodness sake! 0.5% of DLA claims were found to be fraudulent, meaning that 99.5% are genuine, and yet the government wants to reduce claiment numbers by 20%...not by finding cures...just by making it impossible for a large percentage of disabled people to qualify. Under new proposals the lower rate for adults will be removed...this is the rate that I'm on for my depression. I don't qualify for mobility at the moment, and no, I don't understand why either! It will be worse for children; with plans to remove both lower and middle rates. Currently, to qualify for higher rate, you have to require care during the night. This means that countless, highly disabled children, who sleep at night, will no longer receive money.

It doesn't end there, the implications of this are that their carers will no longer qualify for 'carers allowance'. This means no access to 'income support' and will force them on to 'job seekers', where they can then be penalised (with reductions in benefits) if they refuse to accept employment or attend job clubs, when their children may require full-time care. It's worth reading the report which you can find at www.ekklesia.co.uk/files/response_to_proposed_dla_reforms.pdf  and if you haven't already please sign the petition before tuesday 10th January, which is when the governments proposals come before parliament. That can be found at: http://epetitions.direct.gov.uk/petitions/20968.

Whether this fear for the future has been the cause of my health dip this week is a matter for conjecture. But it certainally hasn't helped!! I now find myself sleeping for 13-14 hours a day, unable to rouse myself, even with the prolonged cacophany of the workers building the new bridge span beneath my window at seven in the morning....zzz

Winter Sunday

This week started so well. On Sunday I took advantage of the fine weather to do a little job in the garden that has been 'on the list' since late summer.

As you can see, the Phormium tenax (green spiky thing) and Hebe 'Saphire' have taken over the path to the workshop. This has meant either getting a soaking, on one's journey to the freezer, or running the gauntlet of 'Lolli' deposits on the lawn.

Phormium is a tough, old brute of a plant; great for coastal situations and originally introduced from the Antipodes for fibre production. Hence its common name New Zealand Flax. This plant can be hacked away at any time of the year, although if you want it's showy flower spikes it's probably best to leave it alone from March, through to September.

One of my main reasons for avoiding this haircut...apart from sheer laziness, and the fact that we don't seem to have had any dry days since the start of October (Don't ever listen to anybody who tells you that Cornwall gets the best weather, they are probably Antlanteans!!), is that the Hebe has been in constant flower.

The general rule of thumb with pruning is to wait until said shrub has finished flowering before laying waste with shears, trimmers or bladed weapon of choice. However, this Hebe has obviously heard of this rule before and continually flowers throughout the year.

 It's a good idea to sharpen the old shears before attempting to prune. Blunt implements will leave additional damage, which can lead to secondary infestations, such as moulds, setting in. It is always best practise to clean and sterilise your tools between plants to prevent the spread of any nasties.

And when the work is finished a cup of tea, builders strength, is called for. Sadly, it's not over yet....my least favourite part...the tidying up!

One important thing to remember, when you have a disability, is to make jobs fit your abilities. This pruning job was not so big as to strike me with dread when I look at the tidying up. Always set yourself achievable goals. If you decide to prune everything in sight, the inability to tidy up after yourself will leave you with feelings of inadequacy and guilt at the mess remaining. One step forward and two steps back is not the way to go...I still slip up on this one...I can hear them chanting at the pain clinic.....in a vaguely Obi-wan type voice..."use the pacing Helen, use the pacing....". Spooky!!

All of this mess needs to be bagged for the recyclers. I compost most things, but the fibre content of the Phormium means it will take far to long for my purposes and I have a mountain of garden waste to bonfire as is!

And a job well done...see, even the dog agrees! Sadly I can now see lots of other jobs that need doing....but not today!

Now I really need a shed, a pot belly stove with coffee percolator and an old stripey deckchair to sit on..I should have a home knit tank top, a cloth hat and an old briar....or is that the two Ronnies? Time to bung a chicken in the oven and apply more eyeliner then!

Hurricaines and hullaballoo

Well the first week of a new year, 2012, and it has been a wee bit breezey down here. Waking up on thursday morning after the two worst storms of the winter left me with trepdidation as to what had happened damage wise. There appears to have been no structural damage to the house, although during the storm the strength of the wind was driving rain in around the frame of the large picture window in the kitchen. Two new leaks have sprung up on the kitchen roof...a large flat expanse that does not appear to fit very well!

In the garden the most obvious victim was the pampas grass - Cortaderia selloana.

This is no real cause for concern, however, as the whole plant is in need of it's annual trim. It starts to look tatty this time of the year as it's in one of the more exposed parts of the garden....Have still to find the area of the garden that's not exposed, however.

More devestating, however, is the loss of of my Isoplexis sceptrum (Madeira Foxglove).

Snapped right off its stem. I'm not happy! This plant looks absolutely stunning when it's in flower and should look like the one in the picture next to it come summer. Both the picture and my 'stick' came from Hardy Exotics (http://www.hardyexotics.co.uk/), a couple of miles up the road at Whitecross. It's a gorgeous plant but not hardy enough to be grown outside anywhere but down here. I'd reccomend popping it in a pot and bringing it inside for the winter. It's happy to be grown in part shade so brightens up a dull corner.

I now have to see if I can use the broken off head for cuttings, it's not really the right time of year but I'll give it a go!

This year has really started in an upward direction. On Friday the tumble dryer decided to give up the ghost, not the end of the world as I have a washer/dryer. Damn annoying none the less as it makes all my clothes smell like hot rubber. Then to add insult to injury I woke up Saturday and have lost the crown from my front tooth. I am now unable to smile and talk with a lisp....I hope this is not a sign of things to come!

Welcome

I have decided to write this blog as a record of the journey that I find myself on. This journey seems to be a series of calamitous events, held together by gaffer tape and bits of chewing gum and blue tack! I seem to drift from one disastrous event to another, with only blind panic, good friends, a bit of luck and the determination not to get sucked under, to keep me going...

To explain: I have suffered from painful joints for many years, which I had always assumed was arthritis; brought about by a youth of skating, skiing, rock climbing and trapeze. However, during my thirties the pain intensified leaving me unable to climb the stairs in the house on occasion (a pain, as both the bathroom and my bedroom reside there). Various x-rays and blood tests revealed no joint damage, however, antinuclear tests proved positive and revealed a systemic autoimmune condition, which is 'probably' multiple connective tissue disorder. Basically, this means that my immune system has decided to attack the connective tissue within my body. This, combined with a long standing battle with clinical depression, a seemingly indifferent NHS, Social Services and Benefits Agency leave me wondering why I get out of bed in the morning!

Two of the reasons I get up are my boys; my first born Gee is a typical teenage lad, communicating through a series of grunts and poorly spelled Facebook updates, he is a handsome, intelligent and at times witty young man, who has had to cope with the loss of his father in the last year. He is mature and caring, but rebels against me by having chav dress sense and a taste in dub-step. Nothing winds him up more than grooving along to his music...or being a bit punk/goth in front of his peers. My youngest boy Dude (not his real name, anymore than Gee's is) is pre-teen and has undiagnosed learning disabilities. Until he was 6, he had a diagnosis of autism. This was then downgraded, after it was decided that he had more empathy & communication skills than was usual for autism, to a social and communication delay that he would grow out of.  He didn't, and whilst he has a vocabulary that the average thirty year old would be proud of he has all the social skills and ability to cope with other people as your average labrador puppy. When not suffering from acute anxiety over real or imagined issues, he is charming, innocent and guiless (much to his brother's annoyence when they are up to no good), with a grin to lighten anybodies heart. He is currently undergoing reassesment with the local CAMHS team and awaiting reassesment from the educational psychologist.

We all live in a dilapidated Georgian villa, perched on a cliff, overlooking an estuary in West Cornwall. It was in a somewhat 'unloved' condition when we moved into it, thirteen years ago but over the subsequent years its dilapidation has been added to by a series of 'gentlemen friends' who have enthusiastically demolished parts of it, jerry rigged make do fixes and then got bored of it, before disappearing into the sunset, normally after running up horrific debts in my name. Part of this blog, then will be my continuing adventures in property restoration with no budget, alongside my attempts to use various crafts and foraging expeditions to not only brighten our environment, adddress Christmas, birthdays etc and survive daily life. Make do and mend doesn't even come close!

My other major interest is horticulture and when I moved to Cornwall from the midlands I left behind a career in Youth and Community work and started to train to be a gardener. Whilst my illness has cut short that career, I intend to, slowly but surely, transform the wilderness around me (slightly overgrown garden) into a productive vegetable and fruit garden, combined with sub-tropical garden paradise.

I don't intend this journey to be in anyway miserable or depressing, I don't like to wallow in self-pity, please feel free to electronically slap me if that happens. Please feel free to comment, share ideas and/or ask questions...I will always do my best to get back to you