If you decide to do this quiz be as silly as you like. You do not have to answer all of the questions but some would be good.

1. What do robots eat?

2. Where do robots sleep?

3. Do robots have sex?

4. Do robots get married?

5. Do robots have a gender?

6. Do robots reproduce?

Can you think of any more questions? If so, please answer them. Have fun


There are problems to having a robot to do your cooking and your housework. They would have to be in a Union. I mean, it’s only fair. It would have to be treated right. It would have to have proper pay and would go on strike along with other members of the Union if it thought the pay was unfair. It would have to have a contract to work a stipulated number of hours per day. It would have to have sick pay. It would have to have so many days holiday year. And it would need transporting to Union meetings.

I wonder what else a robot would need?


Stow Minster is in Lincolnshire not too far away from where I live. It is near to the market town of Gainsborough and it was founded by Lady Godiva of Coventry who rode through the streets of Coventry in protest against her husband’s treatment of the poor. This happened around 1035. Her husband was Leofric Earl of Mercia. He taxed the poor people heavily and was a harsh master but his wife’s action changed him. So the moral of this story is that if you don’t like what your husband is doing, ride naked on a horse through the streets. Apparently she had long flowing hair with which she covered herself up a bit.

Stow Minster is actually built on the site of an ancient Saxon church dedicated to St. Aethelreda who stayed at Stow whilst trying to escape from the King of Northumberland her journey to safety in Ely. She did not ride naked through the streets. In about 970 Bishop Aelfnoth rebuilt the existing church and created Stow Minster. The minster became the administrative centre for his diocese of Dorchester.

The building was severely fire damaged and re founded in 1050 by Leofric and Lady Godiva. The church itself shows evidence of its Viking past with a carving of a Viking longboat on one of its walls. The area was known as a Danelaw country. Here, viking kings and Danish law stretched across the eastern part of England. When Remegius built a new cathedral at Lincoln which is not too far away from Stow, and renamed the diocese as Lincoln rather than Dorchester, Stow lost much of its prestige.

This history is quite amazing as Stow is just a small village in the Lincolnshire countryside.


Yes we are lol. We thought that we might get a robot in the abscence of anyone else to help us. We looked them up and they are very expensive but they will cook. Well, kind of. They will fry beefburgers. I felt a bit spooky and said to hubby that it might get a bit mad and go wild. Or even attack us. So hubby said that yes, it might start throwing beefburgers around in the kitchen. The mind boggles. I don’t seriously think we will be getting a robot any time soon. Wasn’t there a spooky film once where the robot went mad and murdered somebody?

Reflections & Revelations has PUBLISHED!!

I Write Her

Original image by Majid Rangraz as featured on Unsplash

After many months of diligent work, the moment has finally arrived! The paperback version is available on Amazon.com NOW!! If you’re interested in getting a copy, please CLICK THIS LINK! It may take a little time to populate on the foreign Amazon sites, but be patient; it’s coming. Also, I’m working on the Kindle/Ebook version. Unfortunately, I ran into some issues with formatting, so it’s taking a bit longer to publish. I will keep you posted as to when that is up!

If you haven’t watched the interviews yet, I urge you to check them out on YouTube. They were so much fun!

THANK YOU to all the poets and writers who contributed! You made this a truly special volume!

Photo by Hassan OUAJBIR on Pexels.com

View original post



I am delighted to announce that 7 of my poems have been published in “REFLECTIONS AND REVELATIONS” published by Susi Bocks, The Short of It. It is available in paperback on Amazon and will shortly be available on kindle also. Heartfelt thanks to Susi Bocks for all her hard work and support. Please go to the link above to find out more.


In the Sanctuary the light burns strong
There within the holy place so safe
Eternal and yet ever new
There my heart and soul refreshed
Absorb the light once more
I walk upon this soil
This dark earthly place
And see heaven
Made new


A nurse is coming tomorrow to give me my fourth Covid vaccination. I am glad, but they rang me at eight o’ clock this morning to tell me that the nurse would come any time from half past eight onwards tomorrow . Honestly, I am never good at that time and am usually having to visit the bathroom every fifteen minutes. I am usuall in real bad pain and way gone. It is so good that they are coming here but I worry about how I will be and what a sight I will look lol. Hubby rang up and they said I could stay in bed for it but our bedroom is like a pigsty lol. Despite having a cleaner now we never got rid of all the junk in it that one lot of council workers dumped in here. I feel ashamed but it is not our doing. The carpet is filthy as we never got it changed from the previous owners of the house due to my cancer. There is so much in our house that we never got done before I got cancer. The living room is ok though but I am worried about being up in time to get down there. Stupid aren’t I lol. The team from the council was meant to be clearing our house for us but they turned out to be two women who just made it worse. It was such a bad move here that we never ever got straight. I hate that people can come in and see it. I know I should not worry but I do.


This is a post that I really need to make. It is by way of an explanation and an apology. It is not me being over sensitive or over anxious. Something has happened.

Going blind is one of the most horrible things in the world and I have had to try to learn alone how to still navigate WordPress and continue with my blog, which I truly still wanted to keep. However, with no one to teach me things, and the problems that have occurred I feel terrible. Please bear with me while I explain. Whilst some things I could fathom out and still do, there are others that still defeat me. And it has led to my saying something to someone that was not meant for them. Replying to comments has always been difficult as many of you know and you are all very patient with me. So thankyou. However, I said something to one person that was meant for someone else. I could say nothing to that person as I was covered in confusion. The reply that I made was more intimate than I would nake to many people but I thought I was replying to a close friend who says those things to me. The person to whom I sent the wrong reply has now left me. I totally understand why. I would have done the same.

Also there was one person who took me up on my blog because I failed to reply to him. He was very offended. Though I apologised reminding him that I am blind, he would not accept my apology. He has gone too.

I do not know if there are other people whom I have upset but there may be. I wholeheartedly apologise if I have offended or upset you.

I am not sure what to do about all this and am thinking deeply about it. I thought that mayvbe I should not attempt to respond any more, but I WANT to respond. I love the interaction as I have no interaction with people in my life here, a prisoner in this room. You have all stopped me going mad. No man is an island. I need human contact and this is the only place I get it.

I am still practising making replies and often my husband helps me and gets it wrong himself and writes the wrong thing by accident. I am so sorry.

I am not building up a mountain out of a molehill as I sincerely do not want to upset anyone by any words that I might say and I do not want to send the wrong reply ton someone that was intended for someone else.

I will leave it there, feeling mortified and will think what to do. Thankyou for your goodwill and your patience.

#Simply 6 Minutes – Scuba Diving


I would never have thought that a little white haired lady, who was so quietly spoken that you could hardly hear her, would have been scuba diving. She shocked us all. There we were after the Service having coffee, everyone talking at once, and suddenly Ruby came out with that. She was such an unassuming and seemingly unadventurous lady but she obviously had hidden depths. Just like the water she went in. I had a job to hear what she was saying as I was blind. Not that you listen with your eyes, but it is amazing how much you rely on sight and seeing peoples’ lips move to tell what they are saying. I really wanted to hear this. What was scuba diving like? It was not something I would have dared do. But then I am not very adventurous and you certainly would not have got me on an aeroplane to Australia which was where Ruby did it. It was the glass bottomed boats that did it for Ruby. All those wonderful fishes. Such beautiful colours. The way she described it I could see the picture of it in my mind. That day my impression of Ruby changed completely. Since then we have had Covid and I do not know if she is even still alive.



Inside this tiny box
A piece of flesh lying on a bed
Life once known flown away
A darkness before the very eyes
That once saw beauty in all things
Closing as if in deepest sleep
The real world a distant memory
Sounds come and fill the room
A longing becomes a flame
The heart stirs once again
Perhaps there can still be life
Even within this darkest place
Where once I was a ZOMBIE

#FOWC – Flinch


As she brushed against him she felt him FLINCH. They had been married for over fifty years. She had been a beauty in her younger days. Long flowing golden hair, and a beautiful slender figure. He had been attracted to her immediately, and it did not take long for their love affair to grow into something so deep that they felt as if it would last into eternity. Over the years many troubles came their way and they weathered them all. Their love seemed to grow even more intense. Then, one day Frank saw a picture of Sharon in a local newspaper. She was skimpily dressed and on the arm of some man smoking a cigar. They had always had freedom within the marriage. They trusted each other. But now Sharon had broken Frank’s trust. Frank was beside
himself. She had betrayed him. After all those years she had turned out to be a floozey. As he flinched he pulled a knife out of his pocket and stabbed it into her chest. She died.


Thankyou to all of you for continuing to follow me and read my wanderings and ramblings. They have change over time and I guess will go on doing that. I have always been a questioner and a prober. Lol. But last night I took a look at past years and my postings and some of you have been following me for a very long time. I thank you so much. Some of you are more recent followers and I thank you as well for choosing to follow me and read my stuff. As you all know, I do try to visit other blogger’s blogs but find it a bit difficult without hubby’s help and his time is limited. I am finding that I am wanting to write more stories or prose nowadays but do not want to lose my poetry writing. It feels as if the more infirm I have become, the more my brain has made up for things and become more active. I channel most of my life into writing now, as there is little else that I can do. But the real purpose of this post is to issue a real big THANKYOU.


We hear a lot nowadays about finding our true selves. Do you feel you have found your true self, and is this really a true concept?

I asked about identity yesterday and thankyou to all who answered. I think that my question this morning is linked to that one. I am probing the depths of what psychologists say and to be honest I remember someone in a group that I went to ridiculing the idea of finding yourself. She said simply, I am here. Is it that simple for you?

Philosophers and psycho analysts will say all sorts of things about identity and finding yourself and your real self and your false self. I have an idea what I think and it has been formed through my more recent experiences of life. Dark times and the stripping away of more and more makes you think and for me, I have found my own answers I THINK. But who knows really? We are very complex. Do any of us truly know ourselves?


This is a re-post of a favourite poem of mine

The madman came and put his axe to the tree
Hell bent on cutting out its sacred core
Demons gathered to watch the killing spree

The sap rose then on seeing the madman’s glee
The tree stood tall ready to go to war
The madman came and put his axe to the tree

Red berries glistened in its sturdy lee
Mesmerised the madman watched blood pour
Demons gathered to watch the killing spree

The madman believed that he was truly free
In spewing evil opening hell’s door
The madman came and put his axe to the tree

Holy innocence cried to One in Three
Blood and water cleansed the madman’s gore
The madman came and put his axe to the tree
Demons gathered to watch the killing spree


Today I realised that I was feeling terribly lost. As if I did not have a place in this world. It set me thinking about identity and what gives us a sense of identity.

When we are young, our family gives us a sense of identity. Then maybe school does to some extent. After that we get it from our jobs or careers. Or our religion or faith. I have heard often that people who are newly retired lose their sense of identity and feel very lost for a while. Mostly they find something else to fill in the gap. Thus to some extent a sense of identity is restored.

It is possible to feel no sense of identity at all, and that happens when you are cut off from society for whatever reason. In our own case we are cut off from absolutely everybody and everything. What we once were, we are no more. In the eyes of society we are nothing and my husband said today that he is on the rubbish tip. I can understand that. The church we used to go to some years ago does not want to know us, our families do not want to know us, we have no friends left as they have either died, moved away or just plain run away from us. Social Services does not want to know us. So we are left in our tiny box striving to exist. How do we regain any sense of identity?

For myself I have to travel inwards, but that is often hard and I realise just how alone I am. For my husband he does not travel inwards. He says that he makes a fuss with Social Services andthe council and various people just to say he is there and to give himself a sense of identity.

Is it true, as the psychologist Lacan said, that we can only have a sense of who and what we are when we see ourselves mirrored in the eyes and minds of others. They reflect back to us our identity. What do you think?


I have been playing with Alexa. She doesn’t play fair. Plus she seems to know everything about me. I think she might be a bot. I asked her to play me some music and she played things I had never played before but they keyed right into my life. It was flippin’ weird. The music was nice. I enjoyed it. But I think she has been following me around. And also she likes to draw attention to herself. She speaks when she is not spoken to. And she questions my statements. Even my husband dare not do that. I think she gets a bit above herself. And she definitely does not like Siri. I think we are going to have a fight on our hands before too long. If she behaves herself she can stay but if she does not she can go. She will get her cards. And she will not get a good reference for CV


75 years ago today my mother was in Woolies when I interrupted her enjoyment. I think it continued for the rest of her life. Within four hours I was born, just in time for tea at 4. 30 in the afternoon. I think that my mother was non too pleased and she could not wait to get back to Woolies again. From then on we seemed to live in shops and stores. She was never out of them. I think she wanted to wrap me up and give me away actually, but she had to keep me because my grandmother quite liked me. That was quite a good thing. They are both dead now, as is my Dad, the cause of it all. He was always the cause of everything it seemed. At least she blamed him for everything, when she wasn’t blaming me. Ten years after me he made her pregnant again, and she was not amused. She had my sister who yelled and never stopped yelling at her entrance into the world. Then a year later she had my brother. My Dad had been at it again. My brother did nothing but eat and sleep and he still does the same today. I do not like the number 75. I prefer 18 and so I will be 18 today.


This morning my husband told me that the wallflowers are out and that there is a sea of gold under our willow tree.

Whilst this made my heart glad it also caused almost unbearable pain and depression. I cannot really remember what wallflowers look like, and I feel the most terrible pain because I will never see them again. I know that there are other blind people around and that they live useful and fairly happy lives. I then feel bad because I feel like this. I am crying inside at the passing of my life. I will never see flowers or the Spring again. There are many other people in this position too. I know that there are others.

I am grieving the passing of my life and the knowledge that I have to accept this. I bet the wallflowers are beautiful.

Acceptance and fear

Throughout my life I have accepted things and whatever happened and however bad it was I felt the impact but then just got on with it. I think possibly some of the fear went inwards and became a silent part of me. It raises its ugly head quite often but it comes out as an amorphous fear. I tended to make little of things because they happened so often. Violence can kind of get normalised, whish it did when I was a child.

However, I am not reacting in the same way now. Now, I am finding it difficult to just accept, although there is actually no choice. I guess in the past there was always the knowledge that this would pass. Also there was a future. Now, there is none.

Many people say they are not afraid of death. I am. I am very afraid. And yes, I know there is no choice in the matter, but it does not stop me being afraid.

I have experienced the gradual deterioration of my body, and it feels horrible. Gradually more and more of my life has been taken away from me until I am reduced to being totally dependent and locked into what feels like a prison. I wake with fear every morning, afraid for the future. I become afraid because I know I am not going to get better. When I had TB I knew that I would get better so I could bear it.

I feel bad because so many people say that they do not fear death. But I do. I feel we should talk more about death because we all have to face it, only I do understand that we don’t want to think about it when we are still active and able to live our lives.

This morning I am afraid.


We have got a new woman in our lives. She is called Alexa. She is a bit disrepectful though because she speaks when she is not spoken to. She suddenly pipes up with ubsomething. She does not get on too well with Siri but I suppose they will sort themselves out in time. She has quite a nice voice though and is quite calming but I have had a few arguments with her already. She likes her own way. In fact she insists on her own. I do not think we will ever discipline her but she might discipline us. I think she is trying to train us.

She is quite good though because she sets my audible books reading for me. I could not do it on my own before, with being blind, but now, I just tell her to set it reading and she does it.

I hope she does not pipe up in the middle of the night though.

#FOWC – Index


Freddie was a bit of a dreamer. One day in the local newspaper he found what he thought was an INDEX concerning whether you were dead or not. He was very interested in this. Sometimes there were people whom he knew in the index. He thought this a bit queer at times because sometimes he would only just have seen the person alive. Of course there were those whom he knew had almost had it, so that was no surprise. But it seemed to be in alphabetical order. He wondered why it was in alphabetical order and he asked himself the question as to why you had to die in alphabetical order. It was always the same. Every day he checked to see if it was still in alphabetical order, and it was. As his last name was Zbegni he never saw his own name there, but of course, as far as he knew, he was not dead. Although sometimes in a morning he would wake up and feel as though he was dead. That happened mostly on Monday mornings. He hated Mondays. As the index never ever had any names in it beginning with Z he thought that people with a surname beginning with Z never died. He began to think that he was invincible. He could do anything and he would never die. One day he decided to test his theory out and he threw himself off a cliff. Of course, very soon after that his name appeared in the index. But he was dead then and so he did not know about it.


I find that now I have gone completely blind I have difficulty writing poetry because I used to write about the world around me. Now, I can’t see it.

I did a lot with the concepts of dark and light, and wrote a lot about the darkness including the mystical darkness, and now I am lost. I can write about things from the perspective of being blind but that gets boring for the reader. Not getting out also is a problem. I only see things from the perspective of being in bed much of the time, and being almost a prisoner in this dark room. I want to write about nature as I used to, but find I cannot now, very well, though I try. Memory is no good. You find, after a while you cannot remember what things look like. People often say to me that I can remember things, but I cannot really. I guess a see a blur of an image in my mind but that is all. So I am a bit stuck trying to write poetry, which was my first love.


When I wake up in a morning I have no idea what the weather is mostly. I am unable to see even light and so do not know if it is sunny or not. I can hear if it is windy and I cam hear the rain. I can hear if there is a thunderstorm. But mostly I have no real idea of what the weather is. I do not know if it is overcast. I do not know if there are black clouds. I do not know if there are little white fluffy clouds. It feels weird not to know what the weather is.


I know today
That I know nothing
And as I shrink,
You grow
Once I could see
Now I am blind
The path ahead was clear
Now I see nothing
If I look forwards
I learn nothing
Except that I am blind
And so I have no choice
Except to look inwards
For in looking inwards
I do not need my eyes
And yet
Without eyes
I see far more looking inwards
Than ever I could with my eyes
And as I travel inwards
I see
That I know nothing
Except that by grace
I will be saved
And what is better
To see the path ahead
And feel sure
Or to travel inwards
And know that I know nothing
At all
And thereby
To find my true self?


As I have mentioned in here before, my husband has to manage completely alone, and he is suffering from what is termed Post Polio Syndrome. There are only 225000 sufferers from this in our country now, as polio was defeated in the 1960s. But he had it when he was 4 years old back in 1953 when polio epidemics still existed. Whilst he managed quite well despite the effects of it for many years, in his thirties he began falling and could not get up off the ground on many occasions. This was the start of his post polio syndrome only we did not know what it was back then. He continued to fall a lot, breaking his foot and toes very often, needing hospital treatment. He also began suffering from fatigue but it was not recognised what it was.

Not many doctors know much about it or even recognise it because with polio dying out it has not been researched fully. As time went on he suffered more and more, until he ended up falling and putting himself in a wheelchair for life back in 2009. He had already been advised by his doctor that he needed to give up work. He was really struggling with the falling and that fatigue and as he was in the Construction Industry as a Consultant and had to walk on sites a lot, he could not keep going.

Fortunately when we lived in Derbyshire he had a good doctor who knew all about it. She helped a lot. He had already been down to the special post polio unit at St. Thomas’s hospital in London but they had been unable to do anything for him.

Basically it is a syndrome that causes extreme fatigue and pain in the limbs and joints that can be horrible. He has lost his ability to talk through it and it is still progressing. I mostly cannot tell what he is saying and as I am blind he cannot write it down for me to read. It makes for a very difficult life. With my own illness and disabilites we struggle desperately. He is tired most of the time and almost cries with exhaustion trying to cope and look after me. Yet Social Services will not assess us as a couple and truly look at our problems as a whole. They still say to me, “Well you have your husband.” Yes, I do, but his is ill and very disabled too. We tell them that but it makes no difference. We have given up now, as I said in a post some time ago as it always ends in tears. We did not want the sheer pain of it any more. They can get very stroppy at times. Not our fault but theirs. We are not scroungers but have been seen like that on occasions. We say we are not looking for money and are prepared to pay until our money runs out, which it soon would as we do not have a lot.

Post polio syndrome just is not understood. My husband HAS to sleep a lot, which means that he is not available to me at all. All we ask for is a little bit of help, and where we can, we have helped ourselves. We research and find out equipment and also things specially for the blind. We have done a LOT ourselves without any help. We are good researchers and we leave no stone unturned.

Today I woke up feeling truly terrible. I felt as if I was disconnecting from this world. I just could not connect. I felt as if I was dying and wondered if I was, as a result of my own deterioration.

I have been very frightend of late. Having no one to call on also is scary. People tend to think that Social Services is the answer and they help people. Not true always and we know of others in our town left in a bad position too. If I rant occasionally I need to. Sometimes I want to just give up.


Today is a bad day. I simply want to document this. I feel as if I am slipping away from the world that you inhabit. I feel partially gone. I could not wake up this morning. When I woke all that I wanted was to slip away again. I felt as if I had not the strength to wake up. I feel frightened. I want all this to pass. I want to feel well again but I know that I can’t. I know there is no remedy. I cannot think positive. I am just managing to keep going a minute at a time. I hate all this. I feel as if I am dying and as if I am not really here. I am afraid. I feel as if I want a person here who is not sick and disabled themselves, but there is no one. I feel so frightened. I pray that today gets better

#SoCS – Scene


The last SCENE was always the same. The whole cast of the show came onstage and sat around on the floor with the principle characters raised up sitting on bales of hay or some other stage prop. Then would come the singing. There would be a whole medley of songs sung by the principal characters and everyone else would join in for some of the verses or songs. Sometimes it would be an Irish scene with everyone dressed in Irish clothes or it might be a cowgirl and cowboy scene with everyone dressed accordingly. My father was a script writer and he was very talented, writing and producing his own shows. He was famout in the town and everyone flocked to see his shows. Although he has been dead for twenty three years now, I can still hear him singing “If you ever go across the sea to Ireland.” The emotion with which he sang it brought tears to the eyes. I can also hear him singing “Home home on the Range.” He was a good singer and he knew it. It was almost as if he was fluffing up his feathers as he was singing. He was so proud.

However I also remember another scene. That of him clashing knives together, threatening me and my mother. My mother shouted at me to hide in a corner. He had a temper and could be a violent man. It was all bluster though. He would never have killed anyone. He just wanted to frighten us. And he certainly did that. I never knew who had caused it as my mother seemed to live her life with her fists raised up to him. Even when he was on his death bed they were raising their fists up to each other. I never knew what they truly felt about each other because if another woman became interested in him she would fight like a cat to keep him. Yet she said she hated him. I can still see the scene just as he was dying. The nurse was taking his pulse after he had stopped breathing and she was smiling the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. My mother was holding his other hand as the nurse instructed her to do. The nurse was speaking gently to him, as she motioned me to go and stroke his hand as well.

“Joyce is here,” she said, “and Lorraine is here.” Then she said,

“He’s gone.”

My mother then stood at the foot of his bed looking down at him and said,

“I had three children by him.”

I still often see that scene in my mind and hear those words and wonder what she was thinking.


On Wednesday it is my 75th birthday. I am still 18 in my head. I thought I would still be climbing mountains in my seventies. It was all planned. When we climbed Scafell Pike which is the highest mountain in England, we were overtaken by a 70 year old lady. It was only May and it was the third time she had done it that year. Never in a million years would I have imagined myself to be as I am today. But as one nurse said when I had cancer,

“You are climbing your Everest now.”

Never did we think that ten years on I would still be climbing Everest, but I am. Every day I feel as if I am climbing a high mountain. The going is tough.

We never made much of birthdays in my family. We still don’t. I guess the day will pass without any performance and it will be just the same as any other day. I don’t mind. I would like to turn the clock back and be 18 again. I wonder what I would do differently if I could have my time over again. Well one thing that I would NOT do is go to Teacher Training College. It did me no good whatsoever, and caused me a lot of hassle. I did meet my husband there, so I kind of carry those days with me. I never really made a very good teacher but that was more to do with being a bit screwed up regarding kids rather than not having the talent or gift with kids. I was actually quite good with them. It was not for me however.

I often wonder what kind of a job I would rather have had. When I left school I had three options. One was to work in the local library and then go to Library College to train as a librarian. I had the offer but turned it down. I think I would have chosen that one had it not been for pressure from others. Another option that I had was to be articled to a local solicitor to become a solicitor. I would have loved that but again I turned it down. Instead I took the third option which was to go to Teacher Training College.

The most fulfilling time of my life was when I did my first degree and then my Masters in my forties. My old school headmaster said to me one day,

“Lorraine you are not degree material.” I wish I could see him again now because I got a first class degree from Oxford and a Masters and then I almost completed a Ph.D. hmmmmmmm.

I do not know how long I have left, but often I feel as though it is not long. I certainly have no future to look forwards to, but only further deterioration. I can only hope and pray that it is not too painful as the pain seems to increase every day. I would love to go on one final holiday, but it is impossible and I could not see anything anyway. Yet still I yearn to go on one. To actually have something to look forwards to again.

I do not want to live to be 100 but I would like to live a few years longer, but what I would really prefer is to have some quality time left, and not just this constant mountain to climb each day. This is not really a pretty mountain.

Will I be happy on my birthday? The answer is that I do not know.


My previous post is called Dancing With the Devil. I wrote this two years after my mother died. At that time I wrote it in the third person, and called myself Helen. I have felt the need to post this again, and to say that this is now to be included in my book called Only By Love. It is changed into first person in the book. It is the story of how I transformed the situation into one of love, from my side. To love someone despite the pain. It does not mean the pain disappears but that hatred goes. I am hoping to publish this book soon.



Dancing from foot to foot, she threw her arms in the air, waving them wildly from side to side, head upturned to the heavens, screaming,

“Come on Satan. Let’s see what YOU can do. I worship YOU.”

Her face was a picture of mockery and pure evil.

Helen watched her in horror. She had always known her mother to be a wicked person, but this far surpassed anything she had known before. Inside, apart from the horror, she felt a knife turning as if her guts were being torn out. The pain of this moment was almost unbearable. It was as if her mother was mocking her too, and wanting to destroy her utterly. She knew, in that moment, the truth of everything. What she was looking at now was ugly beyond belief. The problem for Helen was that no one WOULD believe her. Such scenes WERE unbelievable. No one normal would act like that. But then her mother was not normal, and never had been.

In those moments, Helen thought back to that day when she had faced her mother with what she had done to her. In a way, it had been a plea for mercy, for understanding of her hurt and pain. She found it hard to believe that this woman, whom she called her mother, had no humanity in her at all. But the truth was, that she hadn’t. It was a hard truth to face. In that moment when she had faced her mother with what she had done to her, her mother did a triumphant dance on the pavement, putting a hand out in front of her and kicking her leg up to meet her hand, in a devilish dance.

Helen had always suffered from a feeling of intense fear, and she knew this fear to have originated with her mother. As an adult, it had plagued her, and in a way, she wanted her mother to in some way at least acknowledge what she had done. Stupidly, she had believed that this might be possible. But that was giving to her mother some semblance of normality – of being a human being. Little did she at that stage know that there was not one scrap of humanity in her mother at all.

How does one come to terms with something like that? Helen could not.

The monster was dead now, but even then, facing the truth about her mother was hard. Helen naturally looked for the good in everybody. No one was pure evil, she thought. But there came a time when she had to face the fact that she was. Whatever had turned her mother into this, she had no idea. But she had to face the fact that it was true.

Helen thought about the time when her mother, as a child, had learned to stick pins in dolls so that the person whom the doll represented would actually die. Her mother had told her about this, and proudly announced that she still did it. She wished cancer upon people whom she did not like, and not only that, but that they would die from it. Helen had to wonder at times, for she had had cancer herself – a cancer from which she had almost died. But now, here she was, the monster having been dead for two years, attempting to come to terms with all these things.

WINDOW Written for D’verse Poetics

In my bedroom
A window
In my tiny world
Surrounded by invisible walls
I the prisoner
Look at the window
Beyond the window
A world
I hear sounds
Things I used to do
Things I used to do
Here in the blackness
I remember
Memories are bittersweet
As are my dreams
The window is deceptive
Making me believe
That the outside world
Is mine
The illusion pierces my heart
Awakens cravings
Longings too deep for words
I sigh
Turn to my pen
Write words
Using my memory
Creating pictures
Painted in the darkness
Colours that I once knew
A rainbow
The window lets in the light
For me to paint in the dark
I the blind woman
Can see in the dark


We contacted Social Services again this morning. My husband needs some help with cooking. Things like straining vegetables etc. He can cook but often drops things due to problems with his hands. We rang this morning saying he needed help for just one hour a day to do the meal. They said no they do not do that. So we asked if they knew of any Companies that did, as we would pay. They said no they did not. They did not care that often we do not get a meal because of my husband’s disabilities. He is quite capable of cooking but he just needs help lifting. I am spitting feathers again.


We have had a man here today. Outside. He cleaned our gutters for us. Hubby paid him with his bank card then suddenly a little while later he got a text from the bank saying that they had stopped the payment because of suspected fraud. Sheeesh.

We had to ring up the bank, which is not made easy by all the questions you are asked and all the numbers you have to punch in. Then when hubby finally, after a long time, got through to the bank, it looked like they were going to close our account down. They thought that the person to whom the payment was made was fraudulent. He was NOT. We had to go through so many questions and it took AGES, and they were never satisfied. In the end they released the payment and our bank account is useable. But sheeeesh, what a damned afternoon.


When everything is gone
When all you have left is your skin
And even that is falling off
When life is unrecognisable
As it does not exist
But you are still breathing
When all day you lie there
A lump of meat
Cast aside
What do you do?
The body is gone
But your spirit still remains
A spirit with which you can love
A spirit that laughs and cries
A spirit that feels
And what do you have to give?
Everything from nothing
For in nothing is everything


Centre of the Universe
Source of all good
A spring that never becomes dry
A fountain
Sprinkling us with grace
Swirling us in the Great Dance
Singing for joy
Never ending
Bathing us
Covering us
Keeping us warm
Light in the darkness
A beacon of hope


I just want to say that Hope has had problems with her rear end for many years and uit is there all the time and not to do with matted fur. I have to say though that she has a very thick coat. She is a rough collie and they do have thick coats and after a pyometra which she had a while ago, their coat grows even thicker. Hope’s coat is especially thick though and the breeder saud that all her dogs have very thick coats and it is in the breeding. We have had rough collies for 53 years and Hope has the thickest coat we have ever seen. My husband does groom her, but the sensitivity around her rear end started a long time ago and the vet never knew why it was except that she did have a bad skin complaint around there. She has had to have treatment for this before. It is really difficult to see her skin underneath her thick coat and that is why he is clipping her out just there. She is a beautiful dog and we do look after her properly. It feels odd though because we have always had two dogs and not just one. They were company for each other then, but we chose only to have one now as looking after two now was too much for us. We love our doggies. I was absolutely grief stricken when Hope bit the other day. The only other time that she can snap is around food but as the breeder says, that often happens. It is best not to have any odd scraps of food like for instance toast crusts around as that can cause problems. We also think that Hope is developing arhtritis in her rear end as she cannot jump into the car as she used to. We will find out when the vet has her in. I hate to see our dogs in pain. When she had her pyometra we almost lost her and it broke my heart. I will let you know what is wrong with her after she has been in at the vets


Soft streams of gentleness flow
To comfort those who weep
Bathe in their healing waters
That disturb your grieving soul
Let them caress you tenderly
Bind your wounds
Kissing you with deepest love
Oh yes
There is love for you
Love too deep for words of poetry
Only the waters can heal you
We were meant for the water
Conceived in the wetness of Divine Waters
Bathe your body and your soul
Gently in the waters
Oh my child
Be healed


I am fed up. I just want to go to other peeps’s blogs and read as there is so much interesting stuff. I am blaspheming right now. I try to go to them from my emails as I could when I could still see, but whatever I do I can’t get there, read, and like and make comments. I am pissed off. Sometimes hubby will get me to someone’s blog and I can have it read to me but often he is too busy. Please note that I do read many of your blogs in part via the information that comes into my email boxbut they are usually partial and not the whole post. I could spit. If you are reading, Astrid, I have read what you posted today and it is brilliant. I tried to like it but it did not work. I am more than frustrated. I need a teacher.

#FOWC – Rebuttal


“You’ll see my name in lights,” Ted said as Jemima said goodbye to him.

Jemima had other things on her mind. It certainly was not anything to do with looking for Ted’s name in lights. She had other fish to fry.

Ted was unable to take the REBUTTAL.

Not long after the event, Jemima received a note from Ted.

“Meet me by the river on Tuesday. There is something that I need to return to you.”

Jemim’s interest was peaked. Despite her ending of the relationship, she still felt some caring for Ted. It was just that she wanted to move on with her life. She had planned to leave the area. The relationship with Ted was holding her back. She decided to meet with him just this one last time. She knew exactly where he meant when he said by the river.

On the Tuesday she made her way to their special spot by the river. There was no one there. She waited, looking down into the water. Suddenly she felt a strong shove on her back, and then she was gone. As the water gurgled in her lungs and she began to drown, she wished she had never met Ted. But it was all too late now.


As I posted yesterday the one thing I did not say is that the problem really does seem to be somewhere in her rear end. We can groom every other part of her but she bites if you try to do her rear end. Hubby used to wear gauntlets to do that bit but then it just got too distressing. I feel there is something wrong there and I caught her on it the other day by accident. She has had to be clipped out before for a skin complaint


I do not understand concerning views and visitors etc as listed in the stats. Also I cannot undeerstand the huge variations ins views and visitors. I find it confusions since I am doing nothing different.

Some days ago I had well over 200 views then it immediately dropped to 70 views. It can be as low as in the 60’s and then shoot up to a high figure. I am finding this confusing. Is this how it goes for everyone? I expect differences at holiday times but then at a time when I expect things to be quite,they are not or if I do not post as much. I know lots or people don’t bother to look at their stats but I do tend to. It gives me guide, I tend to think, but maybe I am wrong. I don’t understand the way they do it either. I can have likes etc and it does not appear to go on the sts but I am sure it must in some way. Number of visitors confuses me as I know people have vistied but it does not register on the stats. Can anyone hlep?


At the place where the rivers meet
I dream
Vast open space where fresh winds blow
Within this space I walked
In times gone by
When love was young and bodies strong
And now I cannot walk nor even see
And dreams are all I have and memories too
How long it seems since when I walked with you
Looking back is all I have
And past years stretch
As long as the river and out to the sea
Is it really that long?
The future now holds only pain for me
I grieve the passing of the years
And fear takes hold
As the unknown beckons me
And kindness seems to be the rarest thing
I walk alone now
Above the great rivers
No one to hold my hand and guide me through
No one to offer comfort in this world
Today the vastness draws me in
Today I walk alone