What to do when life smacks you in the face with a wet fish!

There are times in your life when you feel that nothing is going right, that if there is a God, he/she is playing some sort of cruel game; laughing at you whilst sitting safe and warm from the comfort of his/her "Insert Paradise of Choice Here".

We had one of those days this week...

My husband Phil has been unemployed for a couple of months; he has had a couple of interviews, but as yet, no offers-and of course it is a worrying time for us. I am confident that the right job is out there, but it would be nice if it were to manifest soooooon!
(Incidentally, if you are reading this thinking 'Where can I find a degree qualified engineer with bags of experience on PLC's and other computery controlly stuff I don't understand, As well as years and years In the print industry... Just get in touch!)

So as well as being unemployed, his car completely died a month back, and he has been using mine, but we were struggling with just the one means of transport so another car had to be found... He has a 'new' car now, or 'preloved' as some say. It's really nice, an old Merc estate; we picked it up on Saturday morning from the Gatwick area, about 50 miles away from where we live.

The busiest days of the week for us are Wednesday and Thursday, I work at Waterstones during the day, and then run my Slimming World groups at night; Wednesday is the biggie, with just an hour between jobs and two hectic sessions to run!

Phil was pleased (I think that's the term!) to be able to help me again as we had a car big enough to take three people and all my kit, so we loaded up, collected Marion and toddled off down to Pompey. On the way, his phone rang and I answered it; it was the chap at the agency-Phil had been for an interview last week, so maybe it was good news!

He returned the call as soon as we arrived...it wasn't good news. Ho hum.
I feel so awful...like shaking these daft employers who cannot see what a wonderful person he is... Anyway, he helped us set up, and then went home to do dinner for the hordes.

He picked us up again at 8.00 and we set off home...

We have to drop Marion off first, so we come off the motorway at Havant; as we paused at the top of the sliproad, the car began to judder in an ominous manner...and I noticed that smoke was billowing from under the bonnet...

Bugger.

We limped the quarter of a mile to her front door and stopped.

Out first thought was that the head gasket had blown, but the temperature had been fine, so Phil suggested it might be one of the injectors. We called out the AA, Marion made us cups of tea, and we waited...

The AA man duly arrived about half an hour later and had a look. It was an injector, it could be easily fixed, but sadly, not by him. The thread had stripped on the bolt, and his efforts met with casual indifference from the car which simply popped it straight back out again as soon as the engine was started!

A flatbed was required to get us home as it is a rear wheel drive automatic. You cannot tow them, it knackers the gearbox. It was a busy night and the truck would not arrive until at least 11.20...

I was absolutely shattered, having been working (writing for the magazine) until 1.00am the previous night, so Phil called our friend Ross who collected me and took me home so I could have something to eat and get to bed.

He then settled down to play golf on his phone and wait...

...For a man who turned up with a transit! It had some sort of gizmo to tow the car backwards...except that it didn't work because our car is an estate and he couldn't close the doors on the truck again! Well, Duh! They knew what the car is, and it is not exactly a rare model!

The estimate for the arrival of the flatbed was now 1.25am.

5 hours sat in a lay-by, less than 4 miles from home, on his own, having just been told he had not got the job he went for last week, in a car he had only had for 5 days... There is absolutely no justice in that at all.

My poor baby finally arrived home at about 1.15; the truck having turned up slightly earlier than anticipated. He was cold and depressed and who can blame him.

Then of course, there was the worry over paying for repairs; the Merc is 12 years old, you don't get a warranty on cars like that! We thought we might have to get Trading Standards involved and called them to check our rights.

We need not have worried, because the chap we bought it from could not have been more helpful. As we are so far away, he arranged for us to have it repaired by our local garage (who we have been dealing with for 25 years). He will pay the bill in full. He restored my with in human nature!

Then we had the call from the AA, to apologise for their part in the fiasco that was Wednesday night. They admitted full liability for the unacceptable wait and for sending out the wrong equipment and are sending us a cheque for £25 as a sweetener...

All we need now is for the interviewer from last week to call and say he made a terrible mistake in not employing Phil... The job is back up on the agency website, so it could happen...

...Are you listening up there?



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Location:In Bed

A Life Worth Saving?

I run a weekly Slimming World group in the Methodist Church in Copnor Road, Portsmouth (Wednesdays at 5.15 & 7.00pm). A preschool group also uses the hall during term time and we are used to seeing paintings and other things left to dry on the windowsills.

This year, they have been growing tomato plants, and inevitably one of them got left behind... I first saw it a couple of weeks ago, just after the end of the summer term.

There is a kitchen at the back of the church, a lovely bright and airy space with big, west facing windows. The plant was one of of the window sills; it was planted in a clear plastic disposable cup and was far too big for the container... I felt the soil (such as it was) and it was a little damp, so I gave it a drink and left it there, figuring that somebody was coming back to collect it.

However, I got a shock when I unlocked the kitchen the following week...

The tomato plant was still on the windowsill; it's leaves were hanging straight down, and some of them had gone yellow... I rushed over and felt the soil, it was bone dry. I quickly gave it some water and took it out of the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows, then I went off to run my group.

Some hours later, after the groups had both finished, I went back into the kitchen to lock up... The tomato plant had recovered a little, but was still looking very poorly. I stood and thought about what to do; what if someone was coming back to collect it? Would it be stealing to take it home?

Whilst I thought, I had been gazing up at the window, as I looked back down at the plant, I heard it scream-no really, I did! In my head I heard it scream in panic!

"Don't leave me here!"

That was it. I could not, in all conscience leave it there! By the time I returned in another week, it would either be dead, or nearly dead, so if someone was coming back for it, they would not be getting a healthy plant anyway!

I carefully wrapped the plastic cup in a paper towel and wedged it upright in my car. On the way home, I found myself talking to it, telling it that it was going to be out in a nice courtyard garden with other pants to keep it company and plenty of water...

Once home, Phil unloaded the car for me and gave me a quizzical look on seeing the plant; I explained and he laughed...he is used to me by now!

I grabbed my gardening gloves and immediately took it out of the hated cup, repotting it into a nice large pot, filled with rich, damp soil. As I left it for the night, I could feel the waves of relief, like a huge *sigh* coming off the tomato plant as it stretched out it's roots and wiggled it's toes...

The following morning, the first thing I did when I got downstairs, was unlock the door to the courtyard and go and see how it was...

The difference was incredible! It had really perked up, the leaves were





standing out, and best of all, it had somehow managed to put out a bloom overnight! As you can see, it has dropped a few leaves, the yellow ones, but it is really trying to make a go of it, and I am going to do my best to help it along. If I am lucky enough to get a tomato...I shall save the seeds and grow more from it next year...

All I need now, is a name...I need something that demonstrates it's ability to survive in extremely testing conditions, something that says 'I will survive'...

I would have Gloria (who of course had the single), but that's the name of my stepmum, so that's out-and anyway, I want a boys name...Hmmm, I shall have to think about it!

If anyone has any ideas, let me know!?!


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Location:Out and about

Those stupid moments

I often suffer from what I call my 'Stupid Moments', times when my brain simply refuses to work properly. I cannot recall names, or put faces to names, remember phone numbers, where I put things (my glasses!) or where I am supposed to be, at what time and on what day!

I am lucky to have an extremely patient dentists practice; over the last 25 years of attending, I have been there on the right day of the week, but in the wrong month, on the right day but at the wrong time...I have been days late and weeks early! I have also taken the kids out of school for appointments that don't exist!

Appointments are a particular frustration for me. I can arrange something on the phone, write it down at the time, double check it with the other person and still get it wrong! Unfortunately, it also seems to be rubbing off on the rest of my family...

...and then the who-are-you challenge... I have been known to talk to people at length without the slightest memory of who they are, in the hope that eventually they might say something to jog my memory... and even, on one day, walked side by side with a man up Cosham High Street for about five minutes, without realising he was my eldest brother! ...Although to be fair, he didn't realise it was me, either!

I am really embarrassed about all this; I feel so frustrated by my lack of memory, especially when I really should know something. I used to have a pretty good memory; almost photographic where the written word was concerned, although the appointments thing has been a curse my entire adult life... It was having to have chemotherapy in 2004/5 that really set it off on a downward trend, although I should point out that the official line is that there is no scientific evidence so far to prove a link with memory loss and chemo.

What can I do about it though? Nothing, really... All the brain training in the world won't repair my memory.

So, although I find it frustrating, I have to accept it. I cannot change it, stress makes it worse, so acknowledge, accept, release, as they say...acknowledge, accept, release...

This applies in lots of areas of life; if you cannot change something, acknowledge it, accept it, work with it, release that pain, anger and frustration...and move on.

If you cannot do this, then you may be allowing anger and resentment to clog up your energy and ruin your day.

If someone cuts you up on the motorway, resist the temptation to rant and rave, after all, the other driver certainly won't be worrying about you, and allowing that small incident to ruin your day just doesn't make sense!

Acknowledge, accept, release...move on.

This one small change to how you think can have a major effect on your well being, but it takes courage and practice...

Acknowledge, accept, release...move on.

Try it today?

You might surprise yourself!

Now then...who are you again?


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Location:Bed

Throw Away Your Loincloth!

I am absolutely delighted to announce that O Books will be publishing my first book; 'Throw Away Your Loincloth!', in 2012.

The book is aimed at anyone who wants to live a spiritual life in the real world-no loincloth required-and this is how it came about...

I have always firmly believed in God/Goddess/Divine Spirit-the names are not important (as a wise man once said: "There are many paths up to the top of the mountain, but they all reach the same summit."), and my life has been full of 'Weirdy stuff' (as my family put it), which has given me my proof that there is something else out there...

But believing in something and being able to weave it seamlessly into your everyday life are two different things; I would love to be able to spend my time touring sacred sites and stone circles (as long as a) There is a decent B&B and local pub nearby and b) Lots of lovely shopping!), but my life does not allow it! I have to work and look after my family, something which leaves precious little time for me...It's the same for virtually all of us!

To put it bluntly-who has time to spend hours sat meditating on a mountain top clad only in a loincloth?

I want to invite you to throw away your loincloth, because it does not have to be like that!

I can show you how to feel connected without feeling frustrated that you cannot devote more time to your inner self, your inner world...
...Because it can be with you all the time...

Until next time, in light, love and laughter,
Michelle x








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Location:Bed of course!

Finding the positives in those 'Bleeuggh!' days...

I have not been a well bunny for the last few weeks; something which has come to a head over the last few days...

It started at the beginning of June; we were on holiday in Cornwall and my daughter had a 24 hour tummy bug, which I thought she had rather generously passed on to me! However, after more than a week of stomach pains, headaches, nausea and quite literally hurtling to the loo I thought I had better pop along to my GP. She organised some tests and we both thought it would settle down without intervention...

It didn't, and after a whole month of not being able to eat properly and generally feeling Ill, I went back to the doctor. I was not expecting to get a result, but was surprised and shocked to be told I probably had been harbouring a parasite!

The little devils are called Giardia, a single cell micro-organism easily missed on tests; if you search them out on Google Images they look like smily faced balloons with strings...well, the friendly pics do! The others are the stuff of nightmares that I would rather not think about!
Giardia is picked up through dirty water, or contaminated soil, or poor hygiene; having ruled out the dirty water, that left me with poor hygiene (public loos?) or soil, and as I have five cats, that is the most likely cause.
I do wear gloves whilst gardening, but I suppose it is a calculated risk!

Anyway, the GP prescribed some antibiotics and I thought that was it; I wasn't expecting that nobody would be able to find the first lot (Tinidazole), so that I had to have another instead!

Metronidazole and I are acquainted of old, and not in a friendly manner, so I was expecting to be ill and wasn't disappointed. The last time I felt this bad was when I was undergoing chemotherapy 6 years ago!

But there are positives to be taken; counting my blessings if you like...

I have watched an awful lot more telly...

I would not have seen the amazing programme on Iceland on BBC2 last night for one; Julia Bradbury's Icelandic Walk is on the BBCiPlayer and I can heartily recommend it!

The programme before it was rather good too; Coast was featuring the swedish coast and that made me feel distinctly wistful...Is it possible to feel homesick for a place not your home? Ok not Sweden for me, but Finland, just across the water... The Nordic people have a wonderful attitude to summer...get out there and enjoy life to the max! We could all take a leaf from their book on that one!

...and then back in time again, and I watched rather more golf than was probably healthy! Darren Clarke won the British Open; what a nice chap he seems to be, not someone that anyone would have bet on to win in advance, ranked 119 in the world. He lost his wife 5 years ago to breast cancer, and (along with his lovely fiancee) thoroughly deserves the break.

So apart from the telly?

I have read a couple of books that usually would have taken ages because of the lack of free time; both of them were most enjoyable:-

The Girl Who Chased the Moon by Sarah Addison Allen is an enchanting tale of finding ones roots and discovering true magic.

Times Legacy by Barbara Erskine is a fabulous novel set in and around Glastonbury, both 2000 years ago and today. Timeslip novel that you won't want to put down!

What else...?

Oh yes, how could I forget my wonderful husband running round for me, ferrying cups of coffee and sustenance up and down the stairs and generally being a saint!

The kids have come up and chatted every now and again and all in all, although I have felt absolutely Bleeugghhh! It's been a positive experience.

...and having said all that, I cannot wait to get back into the real world!

Too much laying around just doesn't suit me!




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Location:My sickbed

The car that cried wolf! A modern cautionary tale...

'Tis a sad day today. Forever shall it be marked by a black spot on the family calendar, next to the reminders to buy more cereal and crisps, and the menu from the curry house.

On Saturday, Phil collected me from work in his car, but as we drove down the A3 towards home, it quickly became apparent that All Was Not Well...

My dear husband began making gentle comments like 'We're losing power, what the bloody hell is wrong with this thing now!' whilst I made soothing noises... We pulled into a lay-by at which point the Depollution filter light blinked on, to warn us in its' cheery way that we might have a problem.

I say might, because in the two years we have owned this car, it has flashed a whole series of cheery little lights at us...mostly in error.

I think my favourites were the series relating to tyre pressure. It would start off gently by warning us that it was unable to monitor pressure, then move up to telling us that we had a puncture and should pull over. It had a pretty picture of a tyre with a nail in it in case we couldn't read. Our failure to pull over was followed by a further message shouting at us to STOP!

It shouted in vain as we knew we had no puncture, or Depollution error, or any of the other cheery little warnings...what we did have was a car with a serious early onset dementia problem, which cost us a small fortune in continually being connected to command central. Command central would give it a good talking to and for a short while all would be well...

Sometimes the shirt while while was very short indeed, and a new message would flash up on the drive home. The drive home is precisely 7/10ths of a mile!

So you can see, I was failing to take this latest episode at all seriously as in my mind it was just crying wolf again.

How wrong can you be.

Anyway, we pulled into the lay-by, got the message, and did the only thing that seemed sensible, we carried on to Morissons...at about 30 miles an hour on the A3, when everyone else is doing 70+. I did suggest that Phil should wear a flat cap and shrink down so that his head did not appear above the headrests, but to no avail. I know how much he hates travelling significantly below the speed limit, many is the time he has cried 'If you are incapable of driving below the speed limit, you shouldn't be on the road!' and I thought it might help other drivers to think he was somewhat more stricken in years and therefore give him an excuse.

When we reached Morissons, it was clear that there was something actually wrong, not just because of the lack of power thing, but also the strong smell of diesel that was following us, along with the increasingly dense pall of smoke.

So we did the only thing we could do, in the circumstances...

We bought some beer and carried on home...at fifteen miles an hour, which is a bit on the tardy side, even for me!

By the time we had limped that last mile and a half, the car was clearly sick; black smoke pouring out from the back...and white smoke/steam emanating from under the bonnet. It could not manage the final push onto the drive, so we had to enlist the help of Matt to help us push it up there...

...and there it stayed until yesterday, when the man-from-the-garage came with a trailer to take it away.

The practicalities of taking it away were most entertaining; it was facing the wrong way for a start, and although it spluttered briefly into life...enough to get it off the drive...that was it. We had to manhandle it into facing the right way and in line with the trailer.

I say 'we', I just stood out of the way whilst Phil, James, Matt and the man-from-the-garage huffed and puffed as they tried to manoeuvre half a ton of metal without power steering on an upward slope making helpful comments like 'Don't you think you should put your foot in the car darling, we don't want the door closing on it!' You get the picture.

After a couple of lifetimes in the blazing sun, it was ready to be pushed up and onto the ramp; except we very rapidly realised that it was far too low, and the slope too steep to get it up there without ripping the front skirt off!

The man-from-the-garage was not dismayed though, he had clearly dealt with this particular hazard before and before long we were too, with the aid of some bricks and sawn off skirting from the kitchen leftovers.

The skirting had been lurking in the garage for more than 3 years just waiting for the day when it would finally come in useful. Michael MacKintyre would have been proud.

We waved goodbye to the car and set to dreading the call-from-the-garage with the damage report...

It came today and was worse than our wildest dreams. No, really, it was!
None of us could have known that the cheery little lights had been building up to such a catastrophe...the car had finally been telling the truth.

The EGC thing had failed; this is a thingy to control the emissions, it sounds quite vital. The flywheel? Or at least something in the gearbox had gone too, causing the engine to lock up...which doesn't sound awfully healthy...and the starter motor had started to disintegrate, with bits of it potentially now rattling around the engine like raspberry seeds under your bridge that you can never fish out and are bloody uncomfortable!

The man-from-the-garage said he'd never known anything like it, all these things to fail at the same time! He then went on to say that just to take it apart to the extent that they could properly assess the damage and work out a quote for repairs would cost about a £1000 in labour!

This is garage-speak for 'Your car is f***ked'.

So now we are a one car family, at least for the moment. Somehow I think the delights of the Peugeot estate have been too exciting for Phil and we may take the advice of Mr. Clarkson and co and go for a Merc estate next time. We've had one of those before, and they didn't have annoyingly cheery lights that lied for a start!

Would anyone like to buy a large silver blue garden feature?


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Location:Yep. In bed.

To be a pilgrim

I am currently reading a fascinating book by Peter Stanford, called The Extra Mile. The author travelled the UK to visit traditional sites of pilgrimage; Walsingham, Iona, Glastonbury, Stonehenge amongst others; with the aim of seeing how these ancient religious destinations are faring in our supposedly secular society...

...and guess what? They seem to be flourishing!

Although initially I was a little surprised by this, on reflection I feel that I shouldn't be. I am not affiliated to any specific religion; I rather Intend to use the 'insert deity of choice here' approach, at least when talking to others, but I do believe in that something 'other' that defines (for me) a Divinity, something up there watching over me.

But regardless of our particular preference in faith, we can all respond to those places that somehow 'feel' spiritual. I know that is a little woolly, but let me explain with an example.

We visit Finland as often as we can afford to, it is a beautiful country, with some of the best chocolate in the world...as well as countless thousands of lakes and islands, just stunning.

The first time I visited Helsinki, I wanted to visit the cathedral; I love walking around cathedrals and churches, drinking in the atmosphere of concentrated prayer... Of course some churches have a better atmosphere than others, but the Lutheran cathedral had absolutely no atmosphere at all, nothing...if anything the white echoing space had a feel of 'new build' to it!

Our friend Ross suggested visiting the Tempeliaukkion Kirkko, or Church in the Rock, a short walk away. This building, started in 1968, is a multi denominational church, in a quiet residential area of Helsinki, blasted out of one giant granite outcrop...
From above it resembles a half buried UFO; from the street, it is nothing more than a discreet glass door leading into a reception area. It could be anything from a hotel to a call centre, although I am reminded a little of Newgrange, in Ireland.

But then I walked into the main space...

Nothing could have prepared me for the feeling in there. If anything at all were to prove to me anything at all about the power of place, it would have to be the Tempeliaukkion Kirkko... It hit me like a hammer, I found myself overwhelmed by emotion, tears running down my cheeks; right then, at that moment, I would have done anything to have stayed there forever. I have not experienced anything like it before or since.

The walls are bare granite, blast marks clearly visible, the different colours within the rock giving a warmth to the light. The auditorium is filled with rows of seats for listeners of the many classical performances as well as religious services. The roof is an incredible disc of solid copper formed by connecting sections of copper plate into a spiral...

http://www.sacred-destinations.com/finland/helsinki-rock-church-temppeliaukio

The difference between the two churches could be more marked; the empty shell of the traditional cathedral, and the Church in the Rock, saturated with spirit.

Every time we go, I have to top up my fix! I am an addict to this incredible energy...and so will you be...

Book your flights and make your pilgrimage as soon as you can!


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Location:Bed again!