I should have stayed in bed.


She want’s to go to Halifax to sell some of her old DVD’s so that she can trade them for another. I’m not happy about going anywhere, but as usual I allow her to talk me into setting off to catch the bus. It’s already  beginning to spit with rain as we set off and I am sorely tempted to turn around and go back home.  Seeing as the bus is late at least we use our passes and by the time we reach town the rain is absolutely pouring down. Being ruled by the weather mood wise is one of my many Achilles heels. I can feel myself sinking into resentment and ill temper as we struggle to put the umbrella up and make our way through the puddles to the shop. She trades in her few wares but she hasn’t made enough vouchers and so I have to make up the difference by giving her money towards her longed for purchase.

As I wait outside the shop others quickly pass by clasping their umbrellas or huddled under hoods. No one is loitering, all are hurrying and scurrying past on their way to wherever they must be, dripping raincoats, scowling faces, black looks. I decide that my ordeal should be rewarded with a purchase for myself, a new pair of jeans from Bon Marche and maybe some new pyjamas, so when she emerges triumphant from the shop clutching her precious prize, we brave the wet cobbles and motor onwards and upwards to my chosen store. After finding some attractive pyjamas, we discover that they don’t have my size in my chosen jeans but hey! all is not lost as they have two pairs in stock in their Huddersfield branch! 

We decide to cock a snook at this ill fated day and continue onto Huddersfield. After all I reason to myself, it surely can’t get any worse can it? Arriving in the bus station, we see that the bus to Huddersfield is just pulling out of the stand, but he is having to wait to depart because other buses are in front of him. Looking like two demented idiots, we gesture and wave to attract the drivers attention, hoping that he will open the doors and let us on, but…… he casually ignores us and drives off.  Steam is literally coming out of my ears. We now have nine minutes to wait for the next one.  Leaving her waiting at the bus stand, I stomp off to the shop for some sweets to calm my tattered nerves and a drink for us both whilst we wait.

During the journey to Huddersfield, the rain really belts down in bucketful’s so that by the time we arrive at Huddersfield bus station, there are rivers of it running down everywhere and you have to take extra care where to walk.  Jeans finally purchased, we quickly find a cafe for some lunch and a welcome shelter from the rain. Even she looks ready to burst into tears, and nothing ever fazes her.  I feel like death. I ache from head to foot and feel so tired. As soon as we have finished our lunch, we return to the bus station for our bus home. I look around at the other people waiting for the bus at our stand. They all look so forlorn and fed up, blank dismal faces peering out from hooded raincoats which are dripping with raindrops onto the already puddled floor. We would all have been much wiser to remain this day tucked up in our warm beds, listening to the rain as it beat against our windows outside.  We should have all had more sense than to venture out on this particular day of all days seeing as it was Friday the 13th.


One of those days.


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I’ve just had one of those days today. The sort of day where you look back over it and wonder what on earth you have been doing all day. You see, yesterday we spent the entire day clothes shopping. It will no doubt come as a surprise my male readers (if I have any that is) but I am one of those rare females who hates shopping. We were shopping for some holiday clothes during one of the coldest May’s I am sure has ever existed and which didn’t really fill me with much enthusiasm to find myself rifling through shorts, pedal pushers, short sleeved t-shirts and the like. To add to the rubbishy ‘fed up’ mood I was in, I couldn’t seem to find anything I liked or that fitted me properly.

You see, I like trousers to come right up to the waist and give a snug fit around it. None of this ‘hanging from the hips’ business for this Gran! Every single garment tried on didn’t fit around my waist at all, despite fitting everywhere else. Daughter was having no luck either, as her search for size 18 short leg trousers with matching top drew a complete blank. (Finding clothes to fit Down’s Syndrome people is a nightmare, because of their shortish arms and legs)  We had searched in Sainsbury’s and Marks and Spencers, and despite the fact that we didn’t seem to be having much luck, we had still managed to spend quite a sizable amount. I was fed up. My back was aching, my feet were hurting, and I was just about to insist that we go home when we had a bit of an argument regarding that old stalwart for ladies of my particular age, BonMarche. I was more or less sure that it had shut up shop but Kerri insisted that it was still open.

Wagering a small bet of £5 to the winner, we marched up through town to check. She was right (as she so often is) and at last I found some white pedal pushers with an elasticated waist. Sure, BonMarche is no fashion boutique and is firmly aimed at the older woman, but their trousers are just how I like trousers to fit, right up to the waist and with no excess sticking out of the back. I bought a pair of summer weight jeans as well as the white pedal pushers. At last we could return home!

However, I didn’t bother trying them on in the shop (too fed up to bother) and when I did get around to it at home they were a size too big, and so today we have had to return to BonMarche for a smaller size. We decided to try Huddersfield first (despite the fact that I had bought them in Halifax) but the Huddersfield branch didn’t have the smaller size, so we had to catch a bus to Halifax. The only one due was the 501 Arriva bus which was already in the stand. We boarded and sat ourselves down, fully expecting a roughly half an hour journey or thereabouts. Hmm. What we didn’t know was that this route took in most of West Yorkshire including a circular tour around just about every farm, estate and field in Kirklees and Calderdale. We were even treated to the sight of a field full of black sheep! BLACK SHEEP! I thought they only existed in nursery rhymes! 

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To make matters worse, it didn’t seem to have any heating. I honestly hadn’t a clue whereabouts we were and can remember the thought crossing my mind as we chugged along, that if the bus happened to  brake down we would be completely lost. There were some familiar sights along the way of course, though they were few and far between,  Huddersfield hospital to give one example and we also passed Ainley Top at some point in the journey which we both recognised, we did go through Elland (eventually) but then went off on some detour around the countryside before finally joining the road to Halifax. I didn’t actually time the entire journey from Huddersfield but I am sure we were travelling for nearly two hours. By the time we reached our destination, the weather had taken a turn for the worse and we spent the short time we were in town dashing quickly up and down the streets just to keep ourselves warm.

I did get the pedal pushers changed so we did achieve our goal. Eventually!


To Scream or not to Scream.

Outside my bedroom window, it is a balmy twenty four degrees. Both windows are wide open, but fail to catch even the merest cooling breeze. I lay there, eyelids heavy, tired, feeling like death, my body aching and in dire need of rest. I had been dozing, my mind drifting thankfully into that subconscious state it craves if only to blot out the aches and pains  in my bones. I stare at the opposite wall. How I hate that wallpaper! A dog barks, a small dog by the sounds of it for its a ‘yap’ rather than a bark.

My body feels every bump and lump in both pillow and mattress. I turn over on my side, trying to find comfort. Someone outside laughs out loud, a raucous laugh. I wish I could swop places with the person laughing, for that is the last thing I feel like doing. Slowly I begin to doze again, my mind drifting off into some whirling thought, anything to take me away from where I am. Suddenly there is a scream. A girls scream, not far away from my window. A man shouts some unintelligible word out loud. The girl screams again. I resist the urge to get up and go over to peer out of the window and scream out loud myself. I simply think to myself, as I always do whenever someone screams outside,

‘It’s to be hoped that they are never being murdered, because no one will ever go to investigate, seeing as we are all so used to listening to screams all day!’ and I abandon all hope of respite and go off to the kitchen and make a cup of tea.


Where did yesterday go?

I don’t know what happened yesterday. I spent the whole day in some kind of stupor. Having done our Christmas shopping the night before ( at midnight no less!) in a  vain attempt at trying to avoid the crowds, I could have sworn we had purchased every available item in Yorkshire. Peering in both the fridge and freezer confirmed this, but ‘the boss’ was still insisting that we had ‘this and that’ still to buy. Some kind of sherry I think called something Hall and a packet of crisps she desperately must have to add to the vast amount we’ve already bought. Granted I was very tired. It was 01.05am before we had finished siding all of our midnight purchases and had finally managed to fall into bed.

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Yesterday’s Trek in the Snow.

What a morning we had yesterday! I should have known to stay put when it took me an age to get my boots on. Fastening laces and squeezing thick sock clad feet into boots is not my idea of a blissful start to the day. The boss had beaten me to it in her eagerness to stock up with food and was patiently waited downstairs ready to exit the door.  I was therefore in a bad mood to begin with.  We planned to walk through the cemetery (all flat ground with no hills to struggle either up or down) and thence across to a local shop. However, on reaching the road a bus passed us as the road had been cleared.

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A ‘Themed’ Day.

I would imagine that everyone gets a ‘themed’ day from time to time. By themed I mean that the day has similar occurrences happening more than once. Friday was a ‘Break’ themed day. So much so that I ended up hoping I didn’t fall over. It began innocently enough.  As Fridays usually begin as a matter of fact. I did the usual and got out of bed. That’s always a good start to the day I find.  Following that, I got showered and dressed. Again, nothing unusual there unless your a cat of course.  We had to go out as K was off to Yoga class.

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I didn’t blog about……………..

I have resisted blogging this week because I didn’t feel that any noteworthy incidents occurred. So here is a recap of this week and anything I didn’t bother blogging about.


Frosty GrassI didn’t bother blogging about K gingerly setting off to Day Care, clinging on for dear life to her support worker as she ventured down the path. We had experienced a hard frost during the night, and when its frosty she has one philosophy only and its this.  ‘If I go down, you go down with me.’ This rule applies to anyone who has the misfortune to be accompanying her at the time.

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Trouble at Tesco’s.

We had a strange sort of shopping trip yesterday, strange because my ex husband had arranged to collect us and take us in the car, and even stranger when we got there and bumped head on into the ‘locked wheelchair’ conundrum, or ‘Where is the key?’ Only thing that I bitterly regretted about the whole saga as it unfurled was that I had unfortunately forgotten to take my camera with me. If I had it on my possession, you would all have been treat to some very funny photos of my ex Mum in Law (although here I have to add I still call her Mum as does half the town) sitting looking very concerned in a disabled child’s trolley! 

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Yesterday was one of those days……….

Yesterday I had one of those days.  You know the sort I mean,  we all get them from time to time.  A day where you end up wishing you had stayed in bed and not bothered to get up out of it.

It began well enough, with lot’s of promise.  K and I were due to visit the hairdressers at 11.45am.  One of us for her grey roots covering (me) and the other for a wash, cut and blow dry. (K)  The first downer began when the postman called. In amongst all the other post was a letter addressed to me from a Far Grange Park and Golf Club regarding my recent enquiry about Holiday Home ownership at their Park at Skipsea, North Yorkshire.  Nothing odd in that you might think apart from one small detail.  I have never ever contacted them about holiday home ownership! 

My Dream holiday home Oh yes folks, it has been a dream of mine for years to own a holiday home, since we used to take the kids when they were younger to one of the many Haven Holiday camps dotted about the UK.  I fell in love with them, and always vowed that if ever I came into any money I would buy one so that we could go away every year for weeks on end with the children.  However that is all it has ever been, a dream.  Why would this Granny, skimping all the time as she does on a state pension, enquire about owning  a holiday home?  And in Skipsea of all places?  (No offence to any residents of Skipsea who happen to be reading this post, its probably a lovely place, and certainly the enclosed brochure of the Park and amenities made the entire place look very tempting, but IF this Gran was ever in the position of having enough money to buy a holiday home, it would definitely be sited somewhere in Cornwall!)

Yet there it was, my name, my full address complete with invite to go and visit the Park to choose which holiday home I would like to purchase!  Now when strange occurrences happen to me like this, I tend to think its almost like someone is ‘rubbing salt into the wound’ and I immediately went off into one of my ‘if only I could win the lottery’ daydreams as I paid a visit to the Park site and took a peek at some of the lodges and Mobile Homes available. ‘sigh’

Dragging myself rather reluctantly from my daydream we set off to the hairdressers. I was attended to first, and whilst I was sat waiting for tne colour to take, K came over and showed me a pic of a hairstyle on her camera that she had taken up there with her.

Where's my daughter gone?Yes that’s nice” I said approving of the short but neat style in the viewfinder. Then our hairdresser began attending to her. I was sat over the other side of the salon. I saw K say something to her, then she began to shave K’s hair. She had shown the hairdresser a completely different hairstyle to the one that she showed me, and the upshot of this is that she ended up with all her hair shave off…… No big deal I hear you all say.  She is 29 years old . She has a perfect right to choose how to have her own hair.  Hmmm.

I always dreamt of having a girl.  My daughter in my mind would resemble Shirley Temple with gorgeous long locks cascading down her back.  She would be feminine, pink, love wearing dresses and fluffy things. ‘sigh’  The only time that K has ever worn a dress was when she was a bridesmaid for my Nephew 20 odd years ago!  And she hated it!  I have never EVER been able to persuade her to grow her hair long. This I don’t mind as I tend to always have mine fairly short as well, but all shaved!  She looks like a boy.  I already have two boys.  But I was upset with her because of the ‘sneaky’ way that she did it, showing me a perfectly presentable hairstyle that was more like she usually has it done, and then showing our hairdresser an entirely different picture of her preferred ‘shave it all off’ look. ‘Sigh’

We exited the hairdressers, and the downward spiral continued . We waited 55 minutes for a bus to Halifax.  FIFTY FIVE MINUTES!  This wait was made infinitely  worse by having to endure lot’s of gawky stares from motorists and their passengers as they slowed down at the roadwork traffic lights just next to the bus stop.  Why do people in cars always grin like demented idiots at you as you stand there waiting for a bus?  They’ll get their comeuppance when all the oil runs out and they realise they’ve lost the use of their legs!  Humph! Not only that, but one minute I was roasted prompting me to take my raincoat off, then the next minute a breeze seemed to spring up, prompting me to put my raincoat back on again! I must have gone through  that manoeuvre several times during the course of our 55 minutes wait. So much so that I began to get on my own nerves…’sigh’

At this point and by the time we boarded the bus, I was really fed up.  Arriving in Halifax, we hurried to Argos, picked up a new catalogue, and then intending to go to K’s favourite eating establishment, made our way up to McDonald’s but it was cram jam packed with people queuing for a meal, so we had to then return all the way back down to Burger King.  (Actually I am beginning to prefer Burger King, their chips are always crisp on the outside, but soft on the inside, whereas MickyD’s chips can often break your teeth.)  Following that we went on to Marks and Sparks where I bought five t-shirts for my newly acquired third son  daughter to add to her already considerable t-shirt wardrobe. Then we made our way to the bus station, but despite making a valiant dash towards our stand once I realised that one was due to depart, we still managed to see it pull out and disappear.  What is it with us two and buses?  ‘Sigh’

Random's. Guaranteed to give you a lift

“Right!” I exclaimed to K. “That does it!  I’m off to the shop to buy some Random’s!” Nothing better in my opinion if the day in question is determined to lay you low, throw everything it can at you, trip you up and knock you back down than stuffing your face with calorie laden Random’s!  So my dear readers, I didn’t last long in my resolve to stay clear of them did I?