Wtfiiaa?

This particular blog started as a way of recording the renovation of a property... much as many others have used a blog format as a journal.

However, it also became unintentionally, a vehicle for an emotional journey, after the break-up of what I thought was a relationship made-in-heaven.  No such thing exists, I have discerned.  My vulnerable dream was shattered by my own negative energies and those of another.  My dream of having a relationship that incorporated all that I dreamt of in terms of 'happy family' sharing when my parents never did, came to fruition fleetingly and then was quickly dissolved by irritability. scorn, criticism and blame and maybe other stuff.  Let's not go down that road for now!

This blog has seen a few up and down episodes of my personal life since 2010 or whenever I started to blog, in retrospect to that time that I bought my property.  This blog has also commented on places and events.  It has witnessed my observations of, and in, my village and surroundings.  I try to avoid personal and family pics.  I try to be cautious with global internet exposure but sometimes fail!

On occasions I tried the challenge of blogging every day of a month by writing articles ahead of time when the facility to do that became a possibility,  or I discovered it!  It takes time to get photos prepped and an article written.  I have posted deliberately and unconsciously as a form of creativity, as well as avoidance of doing other tasks - let's call that procrastination!

Sometimes I write ahead, then edit and re-edit before publishing.  Most often I write and publish.  To the discerning few who bother to read this ego-centred self-published material, they may have identified that sometimes I edit after publishing.  Sometimes I feel I've been too public with the emotional outpouring.  Or a poem needs to be improved or altered to make it, in my mind, better!  Or my form of dyslexia has come to be too garbled in its word-salad, so I have to rewrite the nonsense sentences into ones that can be understood and not misinterpreted!

Sometimes there have been major gaps between postings, where I've become silent, unmotivated, dispirited, when words or creativity are blocked.  The gaps might signify I have been occupied or that I have nothing worthy of publication. The gaps may signify that I have been in a dark hole of depression or contemplation of the thought:  "W--- t--  f---  i-  i-  a--  a----?"
This posting is in itself an admission of that.  Excuse me for any sensitivities of the use of an expletive. Isn't it amazing how few letters are required for one to be able to read a sentence? My children at school loved that they could read, if I covered the ascenders or descenders of letters!

It is also an admission that I do NOT produce this for others... I produce it for me. Very ego-centred!  I am aware and what is wrong with that form of artistry?  I do not seek compliments but if you wish to make them then I feel honoured.  If you feel you want to refute me or disagree then you can do that too!  My blog is a kind of diary.  I am proud of it.  I am proud  of the progress I have made in writing skills when at the end of my career I was writing absolute goobledy-gook for important documents: no one told me!!!  - no one even understood - least of all did I realise that dyslexia manifests itself under stress. I feel it is remarkable what I have achieved given that at the age of 17 I had not much idea about literacy! From an early age I read the dictionary at bedtime to learn vocabulary and spelling because I'd read the main reading material - the family print company's selection of Charles Dickens novels.

I have made progress coping with and in the particular challenges I've experienced of living in France.  All the downs and all the ups.  It is called LIFE and possibly would not be any different wherever I lived.  I am who I am!  However, I think the very fact that one lives in a different culture where the primary language is my secondary language, does make an enormous difference to sanity, as also does the fact that the country is huge.  To go to a supermarket or anywhere to experience culture is a often a long journey necessitating the ownership of a vehicle!

My former blog tried very hard to gloss over the hidden REALITY that was not exposed to others in the lifestyle that my former partner and I were living,  although there were some who knew and who were helpless to help, because as for all of us, there is only one who can make a difference, and that person inside us needs a certain amount of  knowledge, skills and talents that perhaps doesn't quite exist when it is required.  Some friends and members of my family said they would not read either of my blogs because the first was not REAL!  It was my real!  It was often the better parts of life as it stood then in a chocolate box cottage surrounded by sheep and a pony where I learned to write poetry.  We had some wonderful positive experiences and I really should find the time and expertise to transform these blogs into book format.  For me. for my grand child.  For posterity or they can burn it at a later date!

People make things. I have done so. I made music.  I fed children's curiosity. I have in the past sewn,  crocheted, knitted etc. I like to write.  My poetry is quite substantial now and this too I would like to get published alongside my photography such as it is!

Meanwhile the spectre of a kitchen room haunts me...
It seems so obscene,  the price it will cost to have the kitchen room electrics rewired for first and second fix!  The flooring seems reasonable but I am undecided on wood or ceramic that looks like wood but I think real wood will win the day!  Then the furniture  and appliance costs seem so obscene.  Yet what I love is expensive. I have expensive tastes as a pauper!  My mother aged 89, said to my daughter when giving her a Christmas gift and not one for me, that I have everything I need!!!!!!!  Maybe she is correct. I have relatively exceptional health for someone my age and I am stil young even if old but I hold no bars to my daughter...who gasps at some things I say... and yet it is tame, very tame, compared to some tigers! All my life my mother has always said that I have ideas above my station! And indeed I have... and wtfiiaa in this isolated west facing property  on the outskirts of a beautiful ( so they say) village!!!!  They don't live here!  Let's not go down that road.

May Observation

May is the Most Marvellous of Months in The Garden
May is the Most Marvellous of Months to have a Writing Moment
A warm May evening is delectable.

When the cuckoo vocalises its name from minor to major third, 
sometimes to a fourth 

or an interval in-between

that is why it’s sometimes hard for me to echo.

When the nightingale plays an operatic role 

it doesn’t need a chorus.  

He is singing now, waiting for a friend to cease his solitude.

My cat likes to be stroked in hot evening sunshine 

as she lies on the table. 

I forgive her as she stretches out in pure pleasure.
Naughty cat!

She frowns when she hears the neighbour say ‘Stop’ 

to presumably the dog 

as there was no reply.   

Big Feet’s fur is so incredibly hot as it absorbs the sun. 

Her head is cool 

but as I run my hand along her back 

it becomes hotter midway along her spine 

hottest three-quarters of the way, almost too hot to touch, 

then her tail is quite cool.  
How a cat responds to sunshine is quite phenomenal. 

How can she cope with such heat as she lies on the oiled skin / plastic tablecloth?

She loves it when I stroke and scrunch a right ear with my left hand.

This time she stretches closer to my pen, 
reaching out to touch lightly with both paws 

as an acknowledgement 

that I am writing about her.
A narcissistic cat!

Now she has turned so that her cooler tummy faces the sun.   

She has always been called a French tart, a French tottie.

She is very much at home in my garden.   

I stroke under her chin and along the jawline.  

She caught a field mouse this morning.

My loud voice told her to go ‘OUT’ of the house.  

It’s really warm 

so I remove layers of my own clothing 

and expose my skin towards the golden ball 

to enjoy the heat of sun for the first time in the year.   

It’s after six p.m.

It's the second week of May.