I honestly can't believe where the years have gone.
I seem to have blinked and a whole decade has whizzed by.
Only yesterday my boys were small and they needed me. I was busy fighting for help for my youngest, life was full of medical appointments and reviews then fast forward to now....
My eldest has left school and is about to start college and my youngest is taller than me!
GCSE results yesterday and I am so proud of my eldest. Despite his struggles in life he passed all of his exams. I'm not going to discuss grades, I never was or never will be competitive and certainly will not use my boys to be that way. Suffice to say he passed with flying colours despite the fact that I was having surgeries when he sat his exams and was very ill.
I am just feeling a bit wind swept as I try to grasp the fact that they are charging fast towards manhood.
If a mother is reading this you will either totally get what I am saying or you won't have reached that point yet. If you haven't reached that point then please listen to me when I tell you to treasure each moment, even the bad ones.
These films are a bit like Enid Blyton stories where there is a moral within them.
I love this scene because the quote: "Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery today is a gift" is such a brilliant saying to live by. A interpretation of what Jesus tells us to do, to think of today not tomorrow.
I think thats what we forget to do really. We tend to live in the past and worry about the future and whats the point? We can't change the past, its happened, its done with, we must accept and learn from it. We can't predict the future its so "unknown" but what we can do is live for today.
Today we have been blessed with all that we have and today is a day for making memories, good memories and happy times.
Don't worry about the future because we don't have ultimate control over it, what will be will be.
Ah... a memory comes to me.......
I was a little girl and I used to walk home from school across a small road, on the way, old Mr Jones would be standing at his wooden gate. He couldn't walk far because he was very old and had poorly feet. I think he may have been a litte senile too because he would always ask me my name. When I told him my name was .....
I have always had dogs in my life. Born at home, Victoria Road, Wrexham my dog Patch was already part of our family. My big brother Peter couldn't say her name, he called her Pa... He actually named her for the patch of white on her chest, pointing to it saying Pa Pa Pa..... nice memories.
Apparently a police man found Patch huddled in a shop door way as a puppy, she had obviously been dumped. It was cold and wet. He took her in.
In those days, they held onto dogs for seven days and then they were put to sleep.
Patch had gone over her 7 days but the kennel maids begged for her life because she was so sweet and so little. On the 8th day my mum enquired about a dog and thats how Patch came into our lives.
I remember being very protective of Patch as a child. She wasn't the prettiest of dogs and rather over weight but I loved her dearly. Apparently as a baby, she used to protect me in the pram and wouldn't let anyone near me.
When I was a toddler I remember distinctly how Patch nipped me! My mum asked me had I pulled her tail to which I guiltily replied "yes" so I was told that it was my own fault then. I have never pulled an animals tail since especially having read an Enid Blyton story about a boy who pulled cats tails!!!!!
Patch did have a set of puppies..... One funny thing I remember is the puppies getting lost. The whole house was up in arms looking for the pups...... My dad told everyone to stay quiet and watch Patch.... The little madam had taken the pups into the airing cupboard when it was ajar, a nice, safe and warm place for her babies.
Later on in life she used to "herd" my guineapigs into her basket and mother them!
Patch was over weight but she would always go begging where ever we went, she would sit there with big sad eyes pleading with who ever to give her some food. We always laughed over this.
Another funny thing was if there was a smell in the room, we would say "who did that?" and she would slink away guiltily to hide behind the sofa.
Such happy memories of a wonderful family member.
We were very lucky to have Patch in our lives for 15 years. She died when a tumour ruptured. We decided not to have it removed because of her age and she was happy and active until her last day.
The sad part was that I was at school when it happened and I didn't get to say goodbye.
Its funny isn't it how you love your friends so very much but you learn to put their loss in a special little box, you close the lid and leave it that way.
Writing this post about Patch has reduced me to tears, after 3 decades of her not being around anymore, I realise how much I still love and and miss her.
It has been nice to actually think of her and remember the funny things. She did enrich my life and she brought me so much fun as a child growing up.
I have included a photograph of my dog Bobbi, only because she looks a bit like Patch and shared the same start in life.
In my life I have been poor, I have been comfortable but it looks as though I am heading for poor again. All I hear on the news is plans to cut services, increase tax, cut pensions. I never believed I would see fuel at £1.30 a litre and the cost of food is crazy. Every time I do my shop the prices have gone up.
I am lucky to have lived frugally as a child and my mum showed me how to create a meal from nothing. Don't get me wrong, I never went hungry and we always had a decent meal to eat but we didn't have crisps, biscuits, sweets and things like that which people these days see as an essential part of their store cupboard and mum always made food from scratch so no tinned or convenience food, it was far too expensive.
Everything seems to have an expensive price tag and as we move into frugal times the expectations we have created during the comfortable times are still in place. This leads to discontent, a feeling of injustice, anger even.
So now, as you read this try to think of what is important in life...... really important!
Health for me is important because without it you can't enjoy life to the fullest
My children through them I have learnt valuable lessons in life
My husband who is my rock
My mum who is my mum (enough said)
My family
My animals who bring me such joy and sense of purpose
My friends who give me more support than they ever could realise
My faculties
I could really go on but you can see in my list that I haven't put anything materialistic in there.
So as we approach Christmas, a time which puts dreadful pressure on us to spend, spend, spend. Shall we just try to readjust our expectations. Look at the real meaning of Christmas. Ok, so you might not be religeous but you can still look beyond the religeous aspect of Christmas and look into the meaning. It is a celebration of the end of winter and the coming of light..... it is a time to show love and appreciate to those who are important to you and most of all, it is a time to celebrate life.
If somebody is kind enough to give you a gift, don't just accept it. Look deeper into the gift... the fact that the person who has given it actually wanted to gift you, the fact that they have taken the time to produce this gift and wrap it for you. If you are lucky, they may have even MADE the gift for you.
So the message from this blog is... we are living in difficult times and things are set to get worse before they get better. However, you don't need lots of money to be happy, you just need to change your expectations and perceptions and look to what wonderful things you have in your life and be content with them.
This video says it all for me, how I feel about September and sadly it probably says it all for those affected by the 9/11 tragedy ten years ago.
Tomorrow is 10th September..... at 6.42am on the Mold Road, my big brother Peter Geraint Kyffin was driving to work when he had a blow out..... A bright, dry morning, perfect driving conditions but that day his number was called....... He hit the curb at 70mph and ricocheted into a lamp post on the other side of the road. His car was shaped like a banana and the lamp post came down on top of him.
Peter was dead straight away. Massive trauma to the back of his head.
I heard from emergency sources (Wrexham is such a small town in that way) that when they turned up they knew he was gone and were more worried about the child car seat and the possibility of there being a child involved.
That day I was in work as usual. My colleagues were talking about a big crash on Mold Road and not being one for "cashing in" on peoples misfortunes I carried on with my work while they chatted. A phone call from reception to tell me I had a visitor. I always planned my appointments and no visitor was scheduled. I was then told it was my dad.
I went into reception and as soon as I saw my dad, things magically seemed to click into place. All he said to me was "It's Peter"..... my fiance at the time was called Peter but I knew straight away he was talking about my brother. I remember sitting down on the reception sofas, then standing up, doing this repeatedly until I was ushered into a room with my dad.
Nobody would let me drive home.
When I got home I was met by my mum, in tears. She was wearing a floral dress and had no shoes on, in the street! This wasn't like my mum......
After that the years went past in a blurr..... I don't remember allot of my life back then, I think your brain shuts down to save you from further pain which frankly I can tell you is unbearable.
I remember seeing him at the Chapel of Rest and he was lieing there so perfect.... so perfect.... and that's when it hit me...... I doubled up and cried.... I felt as though I had been stabbed.
I have never felt pain such as that since and I hope to God I never will.
So 21 years has past tomorrow at 6.42am when he left us and there is not one second of any day that I don't miss him. I can put the pain and sorrow away under lock and key but then days like today hit me and I am reliving the nightmare again and again.
I talk to my boys about Peter..... Harry looks remarkably like him in so many ways..... His hair line, the shape of his face, his head even...... They like to hear stories about him and that's my way of keeping him alive although to me he never died, he has been a constant in my heart.
I miss sharing stuff with him, I miss the fact that he never met Jason or my children.
I take comfort in the fact that I know he is out there somewhere looking after all of my beloved animals. I talked to Harry about this and he said "well I hope that when I die Uncle Peter will give me my hamsters back". Of course he will!
I caught myself earlier looking at the date on the computer screen.... 9th...... and the thought crossed my mind that 21 years ago on this day my brother had everything to live for. A lovely home, a caring and loving wife and a one year old daughter.
Its such a good job that we don't know what lies ahead.
So to Peter, my big brother, my mentor, my heroe...... Missed and Loved Always....
Since coming back off holiday I have been busy beyond belief, hardly having time to draw breath. Part of the problem was caused by some nastiness but that has drifted over me now and I feel genuinely sorry for those people who gain pleasure from others pain.
However, I get great pleasure in making time for friends. I have to conciously do this though otherwise life takes over but the last week I have had really pleasureable moments passing time with people who count.
My lap top has died a death but this has been good for me in a way because with restricted access I am more fussy about who I interact with on Face Book. Its also given me time to persue my other intersts which had been sadly neglected! Reading, rock painting oh and the special project I need to forge ahead with for a certain Miss Woods special day next year!
I hate speaking on the telephone, really I do. I am partially deaf (don't feel sorry for me, its self induced after years of nightclubs and rock concerts without ear protection) so I have to concentrate really hard when on the phone because there are no facial features to read and no body language. Despite this I have had some great telephone conversations this week with friends who really have put a big smile on my face!
The other day I spent time with my friend who I re-met through beauty and horses.... we were in school together and we worked in Scotts nightclub together too. Such a genuinely kind and caring person with the an equally wonderful daughter. Having left her home I bumped into the father of one of the friends I grew up with on the Goulbourne estate. I had such an entertaining conversation with him it really did leave me glowing.
By this time I realised that my husband would be wondering where on earth I was but in true SDW style my phone was flat. That was ok though, I was nearly home, just needed to pop into the local post office to send some packages to two great friends...... I almost made it! Then I got chatting to Jean from the village who I have known all of the 15 years I have lived here. I first got to know her as I walked to work at BASC. Always a smile to spare and time to chat.
I realised this week just who is important in my life. Who the real people are whom I need to care about. Those who seek to harm me deserve not a moments thought or worry I am surrounded by family, animals, people and friends who I am privelaged to have in my life and THEY are the ones who matter!
Rhys is a little five year old boy with GI George Syndrome. This has meant that in his little life he has had to endure a number of serious operations.
His parents and grandparents give Rhys such love and strength and support him strongly in all that he does.
Rhys is going into hospital today for another major operation on his palette. This operation comes with risks as do all such things but will enhance and improve Rhys's life so much, it really must go ahead.
I have the honour of being a friend of Rhys and his family and I am always amazed at their positive and selfless approach to caring for their son.
If you have a few moments to spare, please say a little prayer for Rhys that the operation is a success and he has a speedy recovery.
I am attempting to return to my blog again but this time I am going to be a little more structured with my posts in that I will choose a subject, take the necessary pictures and videos and maybe write somthing a little more substantial.
On my return to blogging after a turbulant 2011, I must express my deep belief that one should think of others and I return to my "Brownie Guide Promise"........
"I promise that I'll do my best, and do my duty to God, to serve the Queen and help other people and keep the brownie guide law"
"A brownie guide should think of others before herself, do a good turn every day"
I was seven years old when I made those promises and although I have made mistakes along the way, still to this day try to adhere to them.
I am bringing my children up to be considerate to others as well and that means being respectful of property and of peoples feelings.
Bearing this in mind, you can imagine how awful it was to have a teenage party going on across the road in our small and generally quiet cul-de-sac. 15 year olds drinking alcohol and being supervised by parents who were also drinking. Had the party remained in the house there wouldn't have been a problem but it spilled out into the street and below our bedroom window, also onto the roads at the back of us. Bottles being smashed, kids dodging cars so there were car horns and shouts, attempting to break in to the empty house by us and generally being disruptive. They are not the type of people who can be approached so erring on the side of caution my friend and neighbour called the police.
This was followed by the mother banging first on my front door where my husband was trying to sleep ready for a 6am shift and then on Frans door. She wanted to know who had called the police and why. The incident culminated in me tripping over and bashing my face as I tried to keep up with my fellow neighbours and finally my husband having to get out of bed and use his warrant card to disperse the crowds.....
We all have parties, we all love parties but the difference is we have respect for others and are mindful of their living conditions. On the one occasion I did organise a large party, I hired the local hall for £30 so that our neighbours would not be inconvenienced.
A sad state of affairs that generally people think that they have the right to do whatever they want albeit at the expense of others...... Food for thought!
My early child hood was good fun. We lived in a community in a part of Wrexham called Rhosddu.
Ours was an end terrace, victorian design and overlooked the railway. We were also quite close to Wrexham Football Club so I quite enjoyed sitting on my front wall watching the supporters come and go.
When I was scared at night, I would take myself to my mums room which was at the front of the house and the sound of the trains, together with the lights of passing cars would soothe and comfort me.
We had lots of friends around there and we had areas where we could play. Our house backed onto a rough communal track which we called the "Red Backs" (bet you can't guess why) and over the main road called East Avenue there was the "White Backs" but we weren't allowed there.
Quite often mum would send us to Mrs Ankers sweet shop for supplies. Off we would go with our note and our money and if we were lucky we were allowed to spend a penny or two on bubble gum or those little fizzy sweets.
Mrs Ankers sweet shop was a delight to go into. She was a lovely lady with white hair and dark glasses and although her shop was small it was stacked high with shelves and shelves of sweets in jars. The "expensive" confectionary was under the glass counter. There was another sweet shop near us called Mrs Higgins shop but for some reason I never favoured that one. I think the attraction of seeing those shelves full of sweets was just too compelling.
There was an old man who used to walk up and down New Road and we called him "won a pound". He wasn't quite with it, I am not sure why but he would walk up and down the road saying "won a pound yesterday". Totally harmless character so it was sad when he was found dead.
Mr Jones was another favourite of mine, he lived in the houses which faced our school. He couldn't walk very far but he would shuffle to the front of his house to watch passers by. Every time I saw him he would ask me the same question "whats your name" to which I replied "Sara" and then he would give me a mint and start singing "che Sara Sara what ever will be will be" - to this day, whenever I hear that song I think of old Mr Jones.
Anyone who knows me, knows that my memory is dreadful, even more so following chemotherapy! I struggle to recall things that others find easy. However I do have the odd sketchy memory.
One of my earliest memories is when I must have been around the age of 2.... My mum was in hospital for a couple of months with complications having my baby brother Gareth. All I remember is coming out of a florist shop, I was insistant on carrying the bouquet of flowers which was bigger than me, then negotiating the door way. I can still see the doorway in my mind and the triangular bouquet of flowers which must have been intended for my mum. I know that someone was offering to help me but I was adamant that I wanted to carry the flowers myself.
As I write, I have just remembered an even earlier event... I must be on a roll!
I used to follow my mum around like a shadow, where ever she went, I went. I had a particular blue stool which I liked, it was sort of like an old fashioned milking stool, painted turquoise with chips all over it, rather tatty really. I started to follow mum around with my stool so that I could sit down with her as she did her jobs.
One day, mum had gone upstairs and I followed with my stool. I remember that it was quite heavy and by the time I reached the top I had to rest. It was at this point that I fell......
I tumbled down the stairs from top to bottom, luckily the stool didn't follow suit! I took myself to a corner in the hall and was violently sick..... I remember the pretty coloured tiles on the victorian floor. Apparently my mum wrapped me up and ran with me to the hospital but I was fine..... obviously!!!
I also remember being smuggled into hospital to see my Auntie Hazel who was in hospital and really wanted to see me. They didn't allow children into hospitals in those days so my dad smuggled me in underneath his brown raincoat with my little legs trying to keep up with his.
When mum was in hospital she used to watch me and my older brother Peter play outside through the window, she said that the hardest part of being poorly was not being able to see us for months. I found this hard too as I was only 2 at the time and this period in our lives left an indelible mark on me.
I do recall screaming for my mum and bouncing on her bed like a wild baby tiger on all fours, pounding and pounding the bed with all of my might. I remember my Great Auntie Lizzie, hands on hips, trying to get near me with no success and eventually giving up, leaving me on my own until eventually, exhausted, I fell asleep cuddling a piece of mums clothing. I remember that as though it was yesterday although that incident took place 42 years ago. It left me with a deep sense of insecurity......
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