Back Again!

I’m back again! Thankfully my 83-year-old dad is well on the road to recovery after his most recent stroke.

Well, ‘recovery’ in the sense of beginning to be on the mend again, slowly but surely, still in hospital for the time being but hopefully well enough to go home again in the next week or two. Physically his mobility is even more impaired than before, but he still manages to walk a little bit with a zimmer frame as long as someone is with him. And mentally his vascular dementia has inevitably deteriorated a bit more, but he’s still dad underneath it all and he still holds on tight to the promise of getting home soon…

I’m just so relieved he’s still with us, the first few days after his stroke were worryingly hit and miss but he’s finally finding his way back… love you dad ❤


Off the Radar

I’m going to be off the WordPress radar for the next few days at least, and maybe longer… My dad’s had another stroke so is currently in hospital and I’m off up to Scotland tonight on the sleeper train to see both him and my mum. He’s 83 and has had several previous strokes over the past couple of years, and also has vascular dementia so sadly his health has been noticably deteriorating for a while. No idea how long I’ll be away, I’ve only booked my ticket up for now, but will see you all again when I get back, whenever that may be…


One of the few things I learned at school by rote that I can still regurgitate verbatim without thinking about it at all is Pythagoras Theorem – ‘The square of the hypotenuse of a right angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides.’ I’ve no idea why that particular theorem has stuck in my head for so long – I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever had to use it for anything in the last 40 years? (Come on all you right-angled triangles out there, gimme an angle to calculate, I’m all ready and waiting…)

Yet something that would be really useful to remember without ever having to think about it, and that I really do need to know quite often, is which way to turn a screwdriver to screw something in, and which way to turn it to screw something out. But every time without fail, I position the screwdriver squarely into the screw head, pause stiffly for a second with a sudden confused look of panic, and have to say to myself ‘Lefty loosey, righty tighty’ before I make my directional choice… 🙂

Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Verbatim

Take Your Pick!

So far we have had at least ten Tories throw their hat into the ring for potential new Leader of the Conservative and Unionist party – and if further potential candidates follow suit as suggested in the news tonight, there could be a good dozen or more vying for the spotlight! A cast of confident, ambitious politicians all warming up, practicing their lines ahead of auditioning to be Prime Minister in the midst of this theatrical drama of a Brexistential crisis…

And of course there in the background biding his time lurks Labour Leader Jeremy Corbyn, deluded enough to think that if, regardless of a promising new actor in the lead role, the Tory Government collapses in a critical no-confidence General Election and is forced to exit dramatically stage right, he’ll be waiting in the wings ready to enter stage left into the limelight to become the star performer instead of the underdog understudy…

Er… no, Jeremy, in your dreams… Sadly, when it comes to taking part in the Brexit plot-line you’ve done far too little far too late – in this ‘oh-yes-he-is, oh-no-he-isn’t’ pantomime political farce of your fervent fence-sitting, carrying on with your non-descript ‘noises off’ is the best bit-part you’ll get… So, who will it be, our next Prime Minister? Plenty to choose from, and none of them get my vote, so take your pick… 🙂

Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Pick

Share Your World: 27 May 2019

Are you an optimist or a pessimist?

Probably an optimistic pessimist – I always hope for the best but prepare for the worst, just incase…

Can war ever be just?

No, plain and simple.

Think about the people you love most in your life, what do you do for them?

On a practical basis, I try to give them whatever help I can within reason. On an emotional basis, I give them unconditional love no matter what ❤

Are you health conscious?

Lately I am having to become more so, as menopause and other middle-aged health problems have disrupted my previous status quo… but I remind myself daily, do not regret growing older, it is a privilege denied to many 🙂

Share Your World

From the Common Market to an Uncommon Mess

I remember so clearly when the UK joined the European Economic Community (EEC) in January 1973, which we all referred to colloquially as the Common Market, and I also remember the referendum in 1975 when the UK chose still to remain within the EEC. I remember particularly because we did an EEC research project at school at the time, politically simplistic perhaps in the grander scheme of things but my first real awareness of the longterm consequences of political choices and decisions.

It’s where in particular I learned all about the Common Agricultural Policy (CAP) which for me, growing up in Scotland’s rural agricultural/ fishing/ forestry community was probably the topic of most relevance to me at the time, and was certainly the most pertinent political issue in my pre-teen world that has stuck the longest in my middle-aged brain. I was suddenly keenly aware of the whole geographical context of being in Scotland, of being within the UK, and then of being within Europe and how that works within the context of the rest of the world.

And now here I am in my mid-fifties and the UK is currently in the process of extricating itself existentially from what is now the more modern version of the European Union (EU) in what feels like a far less dignified manner than the accepted concensus with which we first entered into the original legally binding relationship. And like any other divorce after 40-odd years of marriage, it’s messy and manipulative as each side inevitably seems to want to have its cake and eat it too when negotiating such a complex divorce settlement.

Except it’s not even as simple as that one-on-one duality because the UK is effectively divorcing itself from 26 other disgruntled partners, not just one. And its the UK alone that wants to dissolve the partnership, so to all intents and purposes it is the multi-national EU who is the injured party, and the UK who is playing the arrogant aggressor in this complete disintegration of economic and national security alliances, so surely we have to accept we can’t have everything our own way? Especially as we can’t even agree as a country as to what we want out of it.

In my mind here in the UK we’ve gone from the Common Market to an Uncommon Mess, and I’m sick to death of the stupidity of still squabbling inwardly over it all. The way I see it we now have three stark choices – walk away self-righteously alone with nothing but our ‘freedom’, accept the already negotiated but vastly compromised settlement on offer and get on with it, or just give up on our divorce proceedings altogether and stay married for the forseeable future. But we need to decide soon, because the clock’s ticking down while we waste our time picking faults and prevaricating over perfection…

Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Common

Stream of Consciousness Saturday: Rhymes with Rosy

I was born along the North East coast of Scotland, in a world where the Doric dialect was spoken. My mum went to a posh school in Aberdeen so always spoke ‘proper’ English, but my dad went to an ordinary secondary school and spoke mainly Doric – in fact, at 83, he still speaks Doric with family and fellow Aberdonians, but has since tempered his everyday accent to be better understood in the Inverness area he has lived in for the last 50 years or so.

Anyway, the point of the little family history lesson is that I mainly associate hearing an abundance of beautifully descriptive Doric with my early childhood memories, and oh, the wonderful words I miss these days! Because as well as the accent affecting how many easily distinguishable English words are spoken, at times Doric seems to have a completely different vocabulary all of its own. For example, I remember very rounded old ladies always wanting to give you a ‘bosie’ – the kind of cuddle that hugs you tight to their bosom (which presumably is where the word originated).

Other great Doric words I remember from childhood include ‘oxters’ for armpits, and all the Doric men I knew would be wearing a ‘sark’ and a ‘semmit’ – a shirt and a vest – and of course their work trousers would all be held up with ‘galluses’ – braces (suspenders). To be ‘drookit’ is to be soaked through and ‘clarty’ is dirty (I was a real tomboy, and if there was water or mud nearby I’d inevitably fall in, so remember hearing those particular words with regularity).

To ‘birl’ (rhymes with girl) is to spin around really fast (usually until you get dizzy) and to ‘dirl’ is to vibrate – like when you get a ‘skelp’ across the ‘lug’ (a smack on the ear) it gives you a ‘right dirl’. Not to be confused with the love-it-or-hate-it ‘skirl’ of the bagpipes though! If you’re ‘scunnered’ you’re fed up, and if you ‘canna thole’ something you can’t tolerate it, and to be ‘fair tricket’ is to be delighted. Hmmm… Probably best to stop there before I get myself into a right ‘bourach’ (or mess!).

So there we are, that was my random, rambling Stream of Consciousness Saturday post brought to you today by ‘bosie’, my slightly off-the-wall word that rhymes beautifully with rosy 🙂