What Am I?

NYE and we’re all looking into the future – but the past is part of that. No matter how hard Eckhart Tolle preaches (and I do listen, honest), we/I cannot isolate the two.

So, what am I? I am a writer – freelance and seeking that perfect job, rather than small short term contracts. I am as poor as a church mouse, but that will get sorted in time. I am a student – studying hard and faking cleverness. I am owned by the most stunning and wonderful dogs. I am creative – I have ideas to paint again, but am too scared nowadays to put brush to canvas – words are my safe medium, with no judgement necessary.

I had an abusive childhood – not physically, just lacking in the love and understanding that an adopted child needs. I was locked in my room for hours at a time, I wasn’t hugged, or Image result for lonely childhood artlistened to. I was judged as unintelligent and backward because I took so long learning to read; the school thought I was ‘retarded’, and my parents never questioned it, never had/took the time to learn what interested me, what made me happy, what gave me the security that I lacked so badly. An ‘artistic’ personality in an academic household – round peg in a square hole!

I had abusive relationships – both physically and mentally, that left me lost and longing, but feeling it was all I deserved; worthless and unlovable, not knowing what ‘normal’ love is, without that desperately sick feeling of need, of needing another person next to me, looking after me.

Image result for booksNow, I am here – three years after the Big Break Up; three years on my own (apart from occasional men) with my dogs. It still amazes me that I am capable of doing even the smallest thing – I take pleasure in hoovering my lovely rented cottage. I am not criticised over the smallest thing. I wash up, despite the dishwasher in the corner, because it’s something I can do. I look at my books – they are all mine, collected in the last three years (I left with nothing). I smile at the paintings hung on the walls – not done by me, but one day maybe.

I lie in my bed at night, cosy with the lamp on, snuggled under the duvet, with a cat curled up on the pillow next to mine, and the dogs snoring in the next room, and am content.

I still panic at the slightest thing – a phone call or bill can send me spiraling out of control; a complicated instruction can confuse the hell out of me. I panic that I won’t have enough money left at the end of the month. That, because I put things off until the last possible minute,  I’ll run out of medication, and the dark will take back what it once owned fully.

But, I’m sitting here, with three writing contracts to complete, one dog softly asleep in theImage result for typewriter on desk kitchen, the other by my feet, the house warming after the night’s chill, and coffee on the go, and I can smile, pushing any worries away for now.

2017 will be my year to shine!

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Footprints in the Frost

There was such a gorgeously heavy frost this morning, and the fog that surrounded us in a cloying damp blanket yesterday, had gone. The beasts were, naturally, extra bouncey; crunching through the leaves and long grass, sniffing out badger and fox trails, and the neat little piles of crunchy treats left by very generous bunnies. Walking back across the short cropped cricket pitch, I noticed something; the demons left barely any prints, whilst I, in thermal socks and wellies, left an easy to follow trail. Hmmmmm…thought I. So we stopped, and stood still(ish) for a few moments, then I looked at our prints. My wellie and thermal sock clad feet had melted the frost for about 1cm around my boots – obviously inefficient insulation. Whereas the dogs still had intact frost under their paws. My scientific, and obviously accurate, conclusion – they hover! Who knew!

Thoughts Over Coffee

Why do we sleep? Why, at a certain time, do we take ourselves off to a quiet room, turn the lights off and lie down for five plus hours?

15621998_947469645354764_4609132412788911379_nFor many years, I didn’t sleep – a mix of an over anxious mind, eczema and stuff; these days, I, like most other people, lie down, close my eyes and stay there, in stasis, for hours. We are told that our bodies and brains need to rest and process information, and that does make sense, but it’s such a waste of time – so long spent doing absolutely nothing tangible.


Is it just me, or does anyone else find it strange?


Hamish sings with all his heart. Sometimes he’s standing, sometimes lying or sitting, his head thrown back. His tail is plumed over his back, maybe wagging or held straight out, and sometimes, like today tucked right under him. Watch your beasts when they howl, watch all their muscles tighten, belly tucked up tight, shoulders and hocks locked, the sheer img_0317enjoyment of their song so apparent in every taught fibre. Then, finally finished, everything relaxes, the belly falls again, the tail that was held taught between the hind legs, loosening to its natural curve. Pagan puts far less effort in, and will only sing if she shamed into it by myself and her brother, her voice much higher and softer than his. With Christmas just around the corner (Bah Humbug) it’s easy to forget the perfection of our animal companions, to lose ourselves in consumerism, rather than the sheer amazingness of those we live our lives with. Never stop img_0321watching, reveling in, and appreciating their furry splendor. Blooming heck, what on earth is my coffee laced with? I don’t half talk some crap


Why on earth do I feel the need to go ‘waaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh’ whilst giving Hamish rough fuss, or ‘de dum de dum de dum’ as I play the piano down their spines? The theme from Mission Impossible is for playfully spanking their bums, and The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy for nose wuffles and ear fussing. I am destined to never share my life with another human lol


Braving a xmas eve group walk with the demons tomorrow eeeekkkkk! Leads bought, walking belt dug out, water bottle/bowls sorted, petrol got, poo and treat bags done, stinky dogging coat in the wash; now, do I have to take the dogs?

Well, sorry to all who were expecting to laugh at my group dogging disaster! There were none lol. The demons traveled well, if a tad excitably. Hamish, on being stared at by a gorgeous mastiffy type dog, decided staring back just wouldn’t do, and tried to launch himself at him (typically, with much more growling and snarling than necessary), which to my embarrassment was the only canine altercation – all the other dogs, and Pagan, were impeccably behaved. By the time we’d walked a little way, however, he settled and even allowed some sniffing, and then returned the favour. I’d like to thank everyone for making the demons feel so welcome – they are collapsed in a heap now, job done!. Same time next year? Lol

Poor Hamish, it always happens to him. Lorraine, I appear to have broken him – he is more wussy now than ever! Yesterday he, …..well I’m not sure what he did; trod on a stick that went crack, or flipped it back at him in a kickback way, or something, but he suddenly rushed to my side for reassurance. Fine, Hamish, it’s all okay, Pagan licked his muzzle and all was right with the world. Today, in exactly the same place, he turned and ran back to me for more reassurance! Yes, Hamish, it’s still all okay, Pagan re-licked his muzzle, and off he trotted quite happily. Now, is he extra wussy, or extra clever and has trained us to give him fuss when he wants it? Hmmm…..nope, extra wussy! He looks good – fit, powerful, healthy, proud and big – he really is a big boy. He floats over the ground with a long easy stride, whilst Pagan sort of wullops along beside him. She has a sexy, slutbitch bum wiggle, and being nearer to the ground and solidly made, doesn’t appear quite as graceful. But Hamish is powerful, strength combined with the genes of his brave arctic ancestors, have, together, made a complete…….wuss. What went wrong?


Overslept this morning gggrrrr! So, the fields were lighter than the normal sheer solid blackness. However, it did mean that we saw (and heard) the weird couple with the very loud OES and the elderly retriever. Despite the slippery and cloying mud underfoot, on seeing me, and my incredibly well behaved demons (for once, and only because Hamish doesn’t appreciate barky dogs – they worry him. TBH most things do lol), the weird couple rushed off in the opposite direction. He was, as usual, striding out in front, with her running along behind, trying to keep up. I can’t help standing and staring whenever I see them – it’s weirdly fascinating behaviour, but my behaviour probably looks weird to them. Stopping and just staring is just not on, but seriously, wouldn’t you? It’s all very odd! I turned back to the demons only to find that they’d been sharking around my feet, sliding along in the mud on their sides, they were absolutely covered, and far too happy. Both my dogs and me are obviously very odd, too!


After living with my partner for 23 years, he decided he wanted ‘something different’ three years ago this Christmas. I was broken – it devastated me! You see, for the majority of that relationship, he emotionally controlled me. He ‘gaslighted‘ me, and I completely lost myself; I didn’t know who I was anymore, I was numb, emotionally broken and didn’t even realise.

Whilst there was no one else involved in our break up, he soon found someone he was more than happy with. Our financial situation meant that we had to keep living under the same roof for several long and horrible months. He would go and see his girlfriend, and I stupidly, would give him the money to do so, because he would make life impossible if I didn’t (see, it was all my fault, and I shouldn’t hold him back). He would come back after a weekend with her, and carry on normally. He would talk to her on the phone,  whilst lying next to me in bed and it was me being unreasonable by wanting him to move into the spare room!

Never mind.

Three years down the line, and I’m getting there; I don’t think of him much nowadays.  When I do,though, it’s still with a sense of shock over what happened, but it’s easier to move on now, fuss the dogs, play some music, whatever. It’s taken time, and huge amounts of support from my fantastic friends (xxx).

Finding a career I love, and am good at, has helped, finding a place to call my own has helped, and of course, the dogs, my gorgeous, wonderful companions through life, have helped.

I can do this thing; yes, things still floor me and send me into stomach churning fits of panic and anxiety, but I can do this thing called living – usually lol

The Dog Star

Ra, the Egyptian sun god, carried the sun disk on his crown – I feel a slight affinity when I don my head torch which possesses the brightness of Sirius – the brightest star, and ironically named the Dog Star (as any fan of Twilight Barking – sequel to 101 Dalmations will know). However, I also feel it’s been turned around against me by the evil demons, who have learned of its abilities.

They have learned that the Torch of Sirius can, as if by magick, cause things to glow; things like bollards, and, of course, animal eyes. Tiny pinpricks of light, across huge fields, that blink and dance, teasing and tempting the demons to give chase. Which the little fuckers do, and with mud underfoot, ’tis a hair raising, heart stopping moment before I can anchor Image result for sirius starmyself and them.

This morning it was badgers; I guessed badgers because of their habit of running for several yards, then stopping and turning to stare before badgering off again; foxes don’t tend to do that, they just take flight and keep going. Also the tracks left through the dewy crops indicated a low slung animal, not the neat single track paw prints of a fox. There you go, don’t say you never learn anything.