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Thursday, 4 August 2016

DIARY OF DIRTY DISHES AND THOUGHT OF THE DAY


Good morning Bloggets. Today is forecast to be a beautiful day, I’m waiting to learn more. It’s cool out there, sunny, but not warm enough to sit out an yet it said we were going to get temperatures up to 24. Perhaps they meant we had to wait 24 hours?

 

During the night I was reading the news as you do, in bed and learned that a stabbing had taken place in London, in the square Hub and I spent part of our honeymoon. One poor lady dead and five injured. At least they have the devil who did this, but that doesn’t bring back the person who will never walk through the door of her house and visit her family again. She is no longer a daughter, Mother wife or best friend. She has gone forever and there was absolutely no need.

 

I’m sitting drinking the most delicious cup of tea, it’s funny how I make tea the same way each day an yet some days it’s OK other days it’s a nice cupper and today it’s wonderful. Hits the spot as my Dad used to say.

 

Talking of my Dad, yesterday I felt guilty the whole day as this year on the 19th of July, for the first time in eighteen years, I allowed my Dad’s Anniversary to go by without a thought. Gosh I can’t understand why or how that could have happened.  I morn so badly for him, there isn’t a day goes by when he is not on my mind, but that day, that important day, I immorally let slip by!

 

I always try to Annalise my thoughts and actions and can only say perhaps it’s because my Mum has been on my mind of late more than normal. I have missed her so much the past month. There is a lot going on in my mind these days where a hug from a Mum has been needed. Mind you, my Mums Hugs were sadly for me not in a cuddle, as I couldn’t really get that close to my Mum, though no one could love her more, Hub said it is boarding school that does it to us. We adore our parents but are removed from some kind of emotions which we found ourselves having to protect our feelings against as children as we were forced to live apart from our family. At nights when our parents should have tucked us in bed, we had the coldness of a house Mother who wore frost on her head as a hat and to get to their hearts, one would have to chip away at the ice. The dormitories were so cold; our tears froze on our pillow.

 

Those of you who ask when I am going to write my autobiography, I have written it twice, and let it go, I went through torture to write this as I still endure the pain of school. I was six when I had to go away from home my poor Husband was three. We had to grow up and this leaves such side affects in our lives. No one is there to clean your knee as you bleed after a fall. There is the school nurse, but to be honest, as a tiny child, that is not the first thought to take yourself off to a nurse. I’m sure now days it’s so different, but our schools were not the safest places or homely environments for children.

 

I was lucky, I went home until I was twelve at weekends. Some poor kids only got home every six months and I remember some children having to go to live with staff members in the holidays.

 

But enough of that, and back to my Dad, I just hope he forgives me I said to Hub last night. I really feel my Dad with me and if he looked at me on his Anniversary and knew I had not thought of him, will he now leave? His spirit I mean? As for my mum, I haven’t felt her for years. Her presence used to be prominent. I don’t want my Dad to go away.

 

If you could see my kitchen? Oh my goodness. Seriously, it’s like my cupboards have all been emptied and every dish is out on my work tops and in the sink. The dish washer is full from last night as I put it on before bed. Bless Hub before work he normally empties it for me so I can re fill it when I get up. Well at ten to nine this morning when I walked in the kitchen, I walked back out.

 

Teen came home at midnight, but with his friend and was up till three. He was good and very quiet apart from the Little Fella barking when they came in the house at midnight and left at three this morning. He barked as he doesn’t know the other person.

 

Teen got up today, ate, ran out to the town to get a haircut then has told me he is going for two hours to the gym then it will be time for work. Well I have told him I need him to empty the dish washer. I pray he will make time as I have warned him in plenty of time before work. But of course I can’t force him. Seriously though, there isn’t a chance I can go in there. It’s too daunting. I mean, when you can’t see and you put your hands out to feel your work tops and they are full as well as the sink and even the cooker has pots on it. It is the worst I have seen my kitchen since Hub and I prepared Christmas dinner last year. If he at least empties the dish washer I can then start the clean up, then I will have to wash everything down to guess what? Start all over again cooking. I could cry.

 

At least at the weekend I am eating out for lunch on Saturday and Sunday, but still will have to cook for teen. You may wonder where all of the dishes have come from? Well last night I cooked our dinner, so then filled the dish washer. But then I asked Teen when he came in from his volunteering if he had brought his dishes in from his bag as he took lunch with him. He said yes. That is why I found his bag full of dishes? Seriously he would leave them in there to mould. So during the night I text him and told him to empty his bag. Well good lad. He did. Now in my sink. He ate through the night too that’s fine, dishes in my sink and breakfast this morning dishes are on the work tops because there is no room in the sink and the dish washer have clean dishes in… No time for him to empty before going out, my son lives for the moment and everything is last minute, smile, so up out. In, shower, eat out.

 

There were some pots I couldn’t fit in the washer last night on our cooker, goodness knows what his friend thought of our house? Smile…

 

My IPhone has just alerted me that there is a news flash. I’m almost too afraid to look in case it’s another incident. Still loving my IPhone, though when I use dictation which is rare as I prefer to use the touch screen though that takes ages as I can’t write short texts, as I can’t really write short blogs, did you notice? Anyone would think I was a chatter box. Why do I prefer to write when I can dictate? Because my blooming IPhone like my IPod and possibly most people, doesn’t understand my strong as people have commented of late Geordie accent. I guess they can’t take the Newcastle out of the lass. But of late I have been told by a few people that my accent is so strong. I hate that as I give talks and I wonder now how I come across. Though I do try to talk without much of an accent when I give talks. One of teens friends said the other day when I told her I was a posh Geordie. “I didn’t know there was such a thing as a posh Geordie.” Cheeky monkey.

 

My right eye today feels as if it has been kicked by a Pelican.

Don’t laugh, I don’t know where that expression has come from, hahaha.  Really, it’s kind of as if clawed feet have been kicking it. Or another way to put it, a fork has been stabbed over and over again in my eye.

 

Nice to see Russia back to view the blogs, again I ask, are you a school? As on average 25 views per day are being looked at. Russia is now back in third place on the global stats. Mexico tenth. My UK Bloggets are miles in front and US second. I keep thinking all countries have viewed now, but then another viewer will turn up and it’s great to see new places, countries I haven’t even heard of.

 

So, thought of the day.


 

© Fiona Cummings

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