Monday, 31 August 2015

Another Day Out In Pictures.

{WARNING: LONG!}
{...ALSO: ALL PICTURES HAVE BEEN TAKEN BY SOMEONE ELSE...}

.START.

So!
     I arrived at Worcester Foregate Street Station at around 11am:




A place called "Cafe Bolero" had been recommended to me as having milkshakes to die for:


So of course I quickly made my way there.
     Once inside I ordered a butterscotch 'shake and a chocolate and almond pastry: 

Before settling down on a comfy seat in the corner:


I stayed there for a little while after 'shake and pastry had been (thoroughly) enjoyed and got a little writing done, just a page or so, Then I left. I had plans, you see; somewhere I wanted to be. 
     Namely, here:

Worcester Cathedral baby! One of the gems of our once great country. 
     As I drew near I peered up at the tower and spires in wonder:

Then I headed on inside.
     As the pictures below prove, it is rather a vast and impressive place:
...and...

...and...

...and...

Once inside, before I began my guided-by-myself tour, I stared down at the marble mosaic floors, and up at the imposingly ornate and beautiful ceiling for a while:
...and...

Then I began to properly look around.
     There were masses of things to see, 
     The tombs:

...and...
...and... 

The monuments:
...and...
...and...


The stained glass windows:
...and...

The altars:

The pulpit:

The organ (here it is from a nicer angle):

The font, inside:
...and out...

The picturesque cathedral garden:

The crypt:


.....And many more things besides (I told you: vast). 

While there, I couldn't resist lighting a candle:

And saying a prayer for my Dad in one of the small chapels before I left:

Shortly after leaving I headed to a nearby sandwich bar and settled down with my book (the reading one, not the writing one) to eat sat on one of the high legged chairs in the window:

Then that eaten, I made a beeline for an equally nearby pub:

Where I could enjoy a Pepsi and another piece of cake (shut up; it was instead of chips) while I got a few more pages of writing done:

.....Then I went back to the station and got onto the train that would take me home again, where shortly after therein I was propositioned by a shyly polite young man, who had obviously nerved himself up to talk to me and try and commandeer my number (sorry, no picture of him. He was African though, to judge from his skin colour and accent, if that helps. And he was tremendously attractive, Gorgeous smile),
     .....Poor boy. 
    He was disappointed to find out that a) I was a lesbian and b) had no intention of giving him my number (or anyone else for that matter).
     .....He took it well, though, and left me with a regretful but respectful handshake to sit elsewhere on the train so that I could be left to write in peace and he could (presumably) nurse his pride in private,
     .....Gave me a spring in my step, anyway (sexy; that's me).

And then, finally! Home again:

.END.

There you have it, folk.
     That was my day out. 

I hope you enjoyed reading about it as much as I did living it.
     T'was fun, indeed.

Roll on the next one!

Alice x

Sunday, 30 August 2015

Because I Said I Would:

BEHOLD! THE GLORY THAT IS BADLY CRAFTED PIG!



Cool, eh?
     I made that.
     Go me.

Alice x

Wednesday, 26 August 2015

Passive Aggression At Its Best.

Imagine the scene:
     Mother on one side of the room listening to the Proms repeat on the radio  (Magnificat Chorus by J.S. Bach).
     MJ is on the other side of the room, watching something on his Super-Duper-I-Can-Do-EVERYTHING mobile phone (Screen Wipe, whatever the heck that is).
     Both things are playing loudly.
     Both people are unwilling to turn their respective viewing/listening pleasure down. Indeed, they keep turning the damn things up, trying to outdo each other.

.....Who will crack first.....?

Time will tell.

Alice x
   

Saturday, 22 August 2015

=Smacks Forehead=

~.START.~

Alice: is given antibiotics to administer to dog.*

Alice: listens to instructions very carefully (or so she thinks).

Alice: reads instructions on packet carefully (or so she thinks).

Alice: administers tablets religiously, twice daily and all is well (or so she thinks).

Alice: is bemused to find 6 days worth of tablets left, as well as the one that she was expecting to find.

Alice: rereads packet, recounts tablets, There are still 6 days worth of tablets left (plus one), and the packet still says the words "for seven days only".

Alice: rings vets, now thoroughly bemused, to ask what on earth is going on and what she should do now.

Receptionist: brings up details on computer, and having checked them, clarifies; has Alice been giving the tablets twice daily?

Alice: assures her that she has been, twice daily without fail.

Receptionist: continues to clarify; has Alice been giving dog TWO tablets, twice daily?

Alice: freezes.

Alice: fetches packet and rereads it aloud over the phone: "TWO tablets to be given twice daily"...

Alice: embarrassed. Alice mortified. Alice has no idea how she missed the word 'two' before the word 'tablets' (or indeed how her brain missed the word 'two' before the word 'tablets' when given the instructions orally).

Receptionist: toddles off to ask vet what on earth she is to say Alice is to do now, given that she has been under-dosing her dog by exactly half for just under a week now.

Receptionist: comes back and tells Alice vet's response: to start giving dog proper amount of tablets as of the next due dose.

Alice: meekly agrees, thanks receptionist and hangs up,

Mother of Alice: upon being told this sad story, all but wets herself laughing.

~.END.~

=SIGHS=

Alice x

*  two days after being described as utterly fit and not needing any veterinary care whatsoever, Mr. In The Pink sliced his paw open (we presume on a sharp stone in the garden). Yay.

Thursday, 20 August 2015

A Little Bit Of (Rude) Funny:

.START.

Scene is set; Alice and Best Friend 2 are walking along the rain dashed pavement, talking and laughing and generally feeling satisfied after meeting for the first time in over a year and enjoying a nice meal together. During the meal many things were discussed, including sexuality (mainly Alice's). We come in at the tail end of a conversation that saw them return to that subject...

BEST FRIEND 2: (thoughtfully) I thought for a while that I might be gay, you know
ALICE: (interested) really?
BEST FRIEND 2: (nodding) yep. Then I realized I wasn't. I mean, I looked at women and tried to imagine myself having sex with them and...nah. Just, no. (grinning) I like the penis.
(both laugh)
ALICE: (sagely) ...Alice does not 'like the penis'.
BEST FRIEND 2: (highly amused) oh no?
ALICE: (shakes head solemnly) nope.
BEST FRIEND 2: (laughs) 
ALICE: (laughs)

.END.

Wednesday, 12 August 2015

A (Nice) Visit To The Vets.

See this beautiful, beguiling boy in the (badly angled) picture below?



Isn't he utterly gorgeous?
     He IS, isn't he?

Well, this compelling, cunning, caddish, caring, occasionally curmudgeonly creature has just attended an appointment with one of the lovely ladies at Vale Veterinary Surgery for his annual inoculations and general health check and has been declared as not only in reasonably fine fettle (as becoming for a dog on the wrong side of 10-years old), but definitely and decidedly In The Pink.

Isn't that great?
     I always have this underlying fear that the vet will take one look at him and discover something utterly horribly (and possibly incurably) wrong with him that I should have spotted but didn't. Thus far, such a thing has not happened, but the fear is always there, every year.

He's even lost weight, down from 38 to 37.5kg (Aunt.1 will HATE that. Paddy has always been the tubbier of the two - Bingo is ridiculously skinny by comparison - and vets, like doctors, are overly fond of getting their knickers in a twist over the amount of girth a patient has, no matter how healthy they may be. She gets a lecture every year and it is a source of mild irritation that I don't); which made the lady vet very pleased.

Anyway, he took all the poking and prodding and heart listening and ear peeking and lump massaging (he has quite a collection of bumps now, all - proven to be - harmless and quietly growing bigger and bigger as time passes) like a champ; and as for the unavoidable stab with the needle...let's just say he was far calmer about that bit than Mommy was.

A highly successful visit, all round.

He is now sprawled out on his bed, dreaming happy dreams having had yet another happy day.

Good boy.
     Someone deserves a bone.
     And when he wakes up, he'll get one.

Alice x

P.S. in case anybody is wondering, the oh-so-professional looking picture above was taken 6 years ago. I don't have any recent pictures (a circumstance I aim to rectify over the next few days), but Bingo looks much the same now as he did then; just a little more (...okay, a lot more...) grey around the chops.
     I think the silvered fur gives him an air of distinguished sophistication, anyway. And, needless to say,  every other bit of him is still going as strong as ever it was.
     In The Pink, indeed.
     .....I am so happy.....

Friday, 7 August 2015

Seeing As I Had Some Time To Kill This Evening; As Requested...

...here are a few pictures (garnered from the internet, I'm afraid, as I am no photographer) depicting scenes from my day out in Birmingham.

Kidderminster Railway Station:


Birmingham Snow Hill Station:


Birmingham Cathedral Grounds (where picnic was consumed):


Flock of pigeons (I have to assume not the ones I was feeding):


Entrance to Birmingham museum:


First room of paintings (known as The Round Room):


One of the main corridors (known originally as The Gas Hall):


Two pictures from the selection of Egyptian exhibits:



Bonus picture of one of the exhibits being treated prior to display:


Not very good example of the mass of flowers lining the streets:


And last but not least...
     The Starbucks I wasted so much time in (I got some writing done, honest!):



...There y'go, Eli.
     =bows=

Alice x

Thursday, 6 August 2015

Highlights Of My Day In Birmingham:

***

* finding all of the words in two word-searches during the train journey (there).

* being surrounded by incredibly tame and friendly - if super pushy - pigeons as I ate my picnic lunch.
     ~ One in particular ate out of my hand most genteelly and seemed determined to land on every surface of my body that he could - or and I would allow him to - reach.
     I wanted to take him home with me.

* watching a man walk past the window from my seat inside Starbucks, wearing a smart dark suit and bowler hat, while at the same time sporting a bright blue fluffy beard and luminous orange pumps.

* finally viewing the exhibits in the Ancient Egypt section of the museum. It was quite small, but packed with information and interest. I meandered slowly around for a little over two hours before my feet gave out and I was forced to retreat.
     ~ I got a nice necklace and some commemorative picture postcards out of the deal, too, from the museum's well stocked and wickedly tempting gift shop.

* seeing a little girl being given a large gold foil covered chocolate coin - still in Starbucks - and watching her reaction.
     ~ She kissed it. Passionately. Three times.

* eating a marvelously gooey slice of chocolate cake for no other reason than I wanted to and I could,
     ~ Starbucks again. I fear that I spent far too much time in there today. And money. £6.20 in all, I just worked out, on two drinks and one piece of cake. Terrible, terrible...
     But still, at least I enjoyed myself, and got some ideas for The Story jotted down, which is why I went in there in the first place (well, that, and the need to find a loo. Quickly).

* the sight of the beautiful displays and hanging baskets festooned with a myriad of coloured flowers that appeared to be everywhere I looked as I walked down the street.
     ~ See?
     That isn't to do with Starbucks. I did other things too, honest!

* not having anybody to please or accommodate today but me.

***

.....Ah, t'was a good day, indeed.

Alice x

Wednesday, 5 August 2015

Yo Ho Ho And A Bottle Of Fun.

Hey ho, Bloggy-oh.
     It's been...ooh, five weeks now, what?
     How time flies when you are having fun.

To summarize:
     MJ is still here, for now at least. After agreeing that he qualified for housing, the council dragged their feet about giving him a reference number so that he could start bidding (he needs a band, apparently). But he has one now - 'Gold Plus'. Whee. - so things should start moving again now, which is good. Meantime, Mother and I are getting used to bed sharing, and apart from occasional flashes of irritation (on my part, not his), things have been progressing a lot more easily and smoothly than I think any of us expected.

On MJ's part, the swap from living in his own flat to a shared home has gone very well. Living with two slightly insufferable females was never going to be a completely bump free ride, but it seems that any annoyance we may cause him - and we do. We don't mean to. We just do - pales into insignificance beside the abuse and unpleasantness he suffered during his 7 year stay at the Lion Hotel. Here things are, by comparison, quiet, restful, comfortable. So for him, the transition has been relatively easy.

On Mother's part, she is relieved that he is not on the streets and that the son that she had felt lost forever in a swirl of twisted memories, drug abuse and mental illness, appears to still be there. That offsets any awkwardness the transition may have held for her.

On my part...
     Well...
     It will probably come as no surprise, given some posts in the past, that the one that has found the situation hardest is me. For me, the transition has been very difficult. Some of the reasons are obvious ones: going from two women living comfortably and harmoniously alone to two women and one man with a routine that is completely alien to our own, having to share my bed (I really do mind that, though it has improved with time), the added mess an extra person makes throughout the day...but, being totally honest, that hasn't been the main problem. The main problem has been created in my own mind, by me alone.
     So far as I can tell, it is a hangover from things in the past. Things that had happened, things that MJ had done; unpleasant things, distressing things. Things that made the idea of ever living under the same roof as my brother again intolerable.
     Given the past, of course, such feelings are understandable feelings to have. But once the decision had been made - by both of us. The responsibility for MJ coming to us is mine as much as Mother's. I was as against the idea of him ending up on the streets as she was, and I agreed that him moving in was the only alternative, and that it was the better of the two choices - and the supposedly intolerable had happened, and that it turned out to actually be not so intolerable after all; there, surely, the feelings should have ended?
     But they didn't. They stayed there, festering. In the first few days, I am ashamed to say, that my behaviour wasn't very commendable. Indeed, it wasn't merely not commendable; it was a step short of terrible. I didn't have a tantrum, exactly, but my actions were otherwise very much like that of a spoiled child not getting his or her own way. My attitude was furious and hysterical by turns, and my mood towards both Mother and MJ openly hostile. The results were nearly disastrous, but a bit of frank speaking from Aunt 2 and a realization of how terribly I was acting followed by fast, assertive and apologetic action saved all three of us from what could have been tragedy at the last moment.
     Since then I have endeavoured to modify my inner sentiment to match my actions, which are - perhaps hypocritically - ordinary, pleasant and civilized 99% of the time, and for the most part I have succeeded. MJ has made this incredibly easy by behaving in a much superior way to me. There have been no upsets, no tantrums, no screaming, no unreasonableness, no emotional abuse and manipulation or attempts to force us to modify our behaviour to suit himself...none of the vileness and the awfulness of the past have been repeated. His behaviour has been polite, pleasant, deferring, even. And grateful. From the time of first manifestation of schizophrenia at nine years old, to about a year or so ago, MJ has not seemed to be able to express, or indeed to feel, gratitude. Now, he feels it, genuinely. And expresses it. That, and other things, have marked significant strides in the direction he needed to be going in to function at a higher, happier level than he has been able to since the imbalances in his mind first began to overwhelm him.
     So, all well and good.
     But in-spite of this, I have found those sour, angry, bitter feelings surfacing and trying to reestablish themselves in my consciousness. I don't want them there. I had been trying to rid myself of them for years and apart from the odd relapse I really felt that I was managing it. But now...
     What makes it worse is that MJ hasn't done anything wrong, to me or to Mother or to anyone else. He didn't create the situation that led him having to leave the Lion Hotel; it just happened. Mother and I both agreed that rather than see him homeless, the only choice was for him to come and live with us, and his attitude and actions since then have been as described above: perfectly fine. He even helps around the house and with errands: he doesn't do things off his own bat, he has to be asked, but when he is asked he does it, whatever it is. So why do I still find myself feeling like this? What kind of person does that make me??

.....Anyway, that's the short version of what has happened since my last Blog post.
     And now here we are.

I find myself able to write again - at last - so posting shall commence again, too. Not regularly, perhaps, but slightly more frequently than not at all, which is better than nothing.

.....Oh, shut up, it is too.
     You missed me, and you know it.
     So there.

Alice x

P.S. hello Eli. =smiles=
     I lost you too, I'm glad we are together again (Bloggersphere speaking).
     .....I guess I have a lot of catching up to do, too.
     That'll be nice. x