translate

Sunday, 24 May 2015

DIARY OF THE DEVILS DAUGHTER


Sitting here in the conservatory, in the pitch black. No need for lights. Not feeling cosy. It’s cold. Batteries flat in phone so can’t turn heating on. Haha. In a right state. Guess what? Can’t find phone. Why? I can’t find where I have put my phone it’s so flat Hub can’t even phone it so hey ho!

 

Anyway it’s lovely and peaceful. My time. Hardly any cars on the road the birdies have gone to bed as has my canary and our dogs are sleeping in their beds. I have my cup of tea and my thoughts.

 

It’s before the witching hour so not afraid of the dark. I love the calmness of the night. I’ve not enjoyed today at all. Tensions are rising in the Fifi Blogget household. There is something I really really would like but sadly can’t get. I feel so helpless and so wish I had money to do what I wanted in life. Firstly would be to pay off something I feel pretty bad about and second I could treat our kids to the most wonderful holiday. But Hub is the earner and the money has to be safe enough to pay our way in life.

 

I have just put the lovely crisp white sheets on our bed, well, let’s hope they are white? They were when I bought them and I am sure I haven’t put them with another colour.

 

So Hub off to bed for a sleep before I go up there and no doubt wake him up as quiet, I simply can’t do.

 

OK, may be time to turn on a light. I can hear a tapping sound. Tap, tap tap. Like metal onto metal. No pattern, just tapping every two, five seven seconds. No voices or footsteps in the yard, but the tapping is coming from somewhere. Em. Let’s see how long I can sit here before I suddenly take off and run like the clappers and go into the lounge closer to the beastie girls of my dogs. Hehehe.

 

“Go like the clappers!” So the origin? Well, it’s not really used outside the UK, and even in England, it’s a saying that is becoming rather archaic.

What the clappers refers to is not entirely clear, but the most likely derivation is a reference to the clappers of bells.

 

RAF Pilots were oftern from English public schools and the ringing of hand bells were used to mark certain times throughout the day!

Bells were rung more vigorously as time was running out for the children to get to class or chapel. The image of boys running as the hand bells were energetically rung, fits the origin of this phrase rather well don’t you think?

 

Another sleepless night here. I can’t remember the last good sleep I had. I am sure it was three weeks ago. I had two nights in a row remember I told you about them? I have never slept like that in so many years. I totally believe I was being healed. Healed from the pain of torture of the past two and a half years of my Son with the most horrible cruel individual that the devil ever created. But the devil will want one of his own back, so let’s hope rather than the crown being placed on the head of a queen, princess or angel, more like the horns put on the head of a brash badly behaved Belligerent bitch of an Antagonistic

 Antisocial pathetic rude individual, and lead her into the flames of where she originated from.

 

In the meanwhile, I am not sleeping. But that is fine. I can cope with sleep deprivation. Because I’m not sleeping, poor Hub isn’t ether. As for my Son? Well, I don’t know how he is still standing. He was due to go to someone’s today by car and it was over an hour and a half. I’m glad he hasn’t gone as for him to drive ten minutes is scary let alone further. Whilst he is getting reds on his black box in his car, I really don’t want him driving miles. I just hope the person wanting him to drive such a distance will have a change of heart and tell him to come by train? He has had too many near misses not his fault but the fault of other drivers doing stupid things. Still though, too close for comfort. Also I’m not sure little Blue will stand the test of such a long drive.

 

Can you believe that it has been almost a year since Olga and her family came from Russia to stay in our town? I can’t. Gosh what a year? I hope her Son D, is OK. Think of him a lot. He truly made mine and Hubs day for our wedding.

 

 Wow, that was the summer of hell last year. A big change for sure. In so many ways. Not only with someone I totally believed was a true friend, but because of the above gruesome person with the horns, I almost lost my Son. If he has my eye condition, he could end up blind, if that may be the case, no way she would put up with him. God help it if she was to have a blind child? Her heart has been well and truly carved from ice, and that wouldn’t melt to a disabled baby. 

 

OK, the tapping has stopped. I’m still in the dark. The traffic has nicely hushed to one every twenty seconds. Through the day, when I’m in the garden, it’s deafening. Really awful. It’s almost like being on the motorway. I tell myself that it is the ocean. Hahaha. The whooshing of the waves. And when my ears are ringing and my head hurts? I have to say it’s time to go in the house and close all doors.

 

 

I’m starting to feel really hungry. This is the time of night when I love my toast. I have to say no. Having said that, I made a deal with my Son about losing weight and sadly the deal has to come to a big fat crash as Hub doesn’t want to do what I wanted to do for my gift of losing weight. OK, I know that my gift should be the fact that I have lost weight, can live longer and get into lovely fashionable clothes, right? Hmm. Yep, of course but what I wanted for my gift was a holiday. Sadly we can’t.  We don’t go anywhere or do much in life but we can’t go on holiday. I have spent ten days searching the net to try and find a holiday. It was perfect when I saw one. It took so much time I’m not joking, and today Hub said no. I guess he is right. We can’t. But I’m gutted. We don’t even go out for meals now. We don’t drink and don’t smoke. Don’t own a car so what do we do? Just pay bills. This is why I so badly wish I could publish commercially, and then I could pay for what is wanted rather than needed. But I’m not the only one in the world that isn’t going on holiday.

 

If you are one of those people, we can have our Blogget holiday, right? Yep, let’s do that. In a couple of weeks, if I forget, remind me. This should be fun. I haven’t done anything like that before. I’m sure those familiar men in white coats will be back for me when we do this, but it will be funny. Right?

 

OK, so to poetry next. Gosh, what will these fingers type? I don’t have a clue. I never know. I write what I am given. I’m given what I write. The moral of this blog? Is there one? I guess there is, firstly, being happy with what you have. It could be worse. Also, don’t take fools gladly. And I can tell you, I believe in our maker. I just don’t know his or her or its name anymore. But faith? Yes, I have it back. X

 

 

 

 

No comments: