Living Between the Lines
A wry look at family life
-
I have never been to a Vampire Ball
My foray into the alternative world of my nephew continues. I have been introduced to Steam punk (in particular steam punk goggles) and learnt why a house bleeds. I have witnessed the joy displayed when a new costume piece arrives or is promised and seen the melt-down that occurs when our actions are misunderstood or we fail to understand his. I am beginning to think that I should create a whole new category for posts about James. They represent a learning curve for me and my eyes are opened ever wider as I enter the world my late sister dealt with daily. It is a world where disability is not…
-
Please don’t pester me…
Don’t you just hate those furniture salesmen who latch onto you the moment you step through the door? I do. At the weekend, we decide to shop for a sofa, a wardrobe and a small table – this last for our daughter’s new house. With these three objectives in mind, we drive to the nearest out-of-town furniture stores. There is a clutch of them not far from our village. Walking into the first store we are greeted by three, suited gentlemen, standing in a triangle, amongst the tastefully displayed suites. “Men in Black” springs immediately to mind (minus the sunglasses). The nearest chap to the door recognizes us and comes…
-
Emergency!
Email is both a blessing and a thorn in one’s side. Where would we be without it? We’d be back in the days of pen and paper of course. I have mentioned before in this blog, the wonder of receiving a letter. I have read similar nostalgic thoughts from other bloggers. The speed and convenience of emails cannot be questioned of course. However, the other week was the first time I have seen the email used as an SOS, like a “message in a bottle”. The email concerned was sent to our wonderful management company from a guest at our holiday home. The guest had been particularly “needy” since his…
-
“Very Good Day”
The horse fails to live up to the promise of its name. It comes fifth or sixth or maybe seventh, not first, second or third at any rate. It seems to be running well when they set off – from my stance on the crowded Pavillion steps, I can just make out the tiny specks in the distance as they ride round the upper field. The riders bunch together for a time before the leaders are determined. The crowd goes a little mad and “Very Good Day” canters in at the back of the field. I placed a small bet on “Very Good Day” to be ironic. A very good…
-
Serendipity and Going Places…
It has been some time since my last post. (‘Confession’ might fit nicely there). The reason for my lengthy absence from blogging, is our recent, all encompassing, preoccupation with moving arrangements for our nephew. James is moving into his new home. The process of moving his possessions from A to B, whilst leaving much of what my late sister and brother-in-law have gathered during thirty three years of living at one address, is not without a few ups and downs but, on the whole, it goes well. Over a period of two days, we manage to exhume most of James’s things from their dust ridden hiding places and relocate them…
-
Moves Freely in the Wind
I have recently been handed the Versatile Blogger Award. Unlike the Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award, this award seems to be all about the writer’s ability to adapt to changing circumstances. According to my dictionary, it suggests an all-rounder, someone who is adaptable and capable of many different skills, a purveyor of all sorts. Of all the meanings attributed to it, my favourite is the botanical: “Versatile: When the anther is attached and lightly swings, moving freely in the wind.” It has the feel of an ancient American Indian name don’t you think? Perhaps, had I been born into another life I would have been named, “Moves freely in the Wind”.…
-
The Sky’s the limit (100th Post!)
Another marathon phone call, with those very nice people at Sky, led to more than one misunderstanding as I struggled to explain what I wanted and they grappled with the complications this entailed. All was plain sailing at first. I am transferring my nephew’s telephone, TV and Broadband services, to a new address for him. Since we became responsible for his welfare, we have had his account in our names for billing purposes. To complicate matters, we have two other Sky accounts. One of these is at our home, another at our holiday home in Cornwall. Treleigh. Taking the bit between my teeth, I logged into my late sister’s old…
-
When a house bleeds
Those of you who regularly read my blog, may recall that my husband and I are responsible for the welfare of our 29 year old nephew who has both Aspergers and Klinefelters Syndrome. The ramifications of this new responsibility are many. It is not the easiest task we have ever been given but it is by far the most surprising and undoubtedly, one of the most humorous. James often phones to request my help on one matter or other. I wrote only recently of the ‘Steam Punk Goggle’ request. I found this one very interesting and learnt a lot in the process. I have since been asked to obtain an…
-
Magic Boots
Memories are funny things. They pop into one’s head at the most odd times and for no apparent reason. How wonderful the good ones can be though, and how they can make one smile. As I trudge through the woods with the dogs this morning, the legacy of a night’s rain drip-dripping on my head from the overhanging branches, an early morning sun barely visible, I am glad of the wellington boots encasing my feet, rubber boots that squelch through the mud and wet. Heedless of the water-logged ground, I splish-splash on my way. The Duke of Wellington stumbled, quite literally, on a great idea when he modified the original…
-
Print versus e-book
For some time I have hovered on the fence regarding e-readers versus print. Well, ‘hovered’ may not be quite the correct term. I have always believed and still believe that the hard copy book beats the e-reader hands down. I mean, what can possibly replace the feel of a good book in one’s hand? What can emulate the pages that waft excitement as you turn them and allow one to breathe in the aroma of crisp print-on-parchment? (I get fanciful now). Furthermore, a hard copy never needs re-charging and sits, tantalizingly inviting, on the bookshelf, begging to be read. Despite this love of the printed material, I do possess both…
