Baby Lovin'

Welcome to another Blog This! challenge...and yes, i know its been ages since i've participated in one but i thought, seeing as i'm a member of the writing staff over there, it was about time i put my hat in the ring in a challenge again. ( If you're an Australian blogger, and you dont know what Blog This! is, please go click on this linky right here and check us out - and sign up! ). This fortnights challenge is a photographic post - the Blog This! team want has gotten bit clucky and we want to see babies or kids - whether the pic is of you, your kids or some random children you borrowed off the street....

Aww.... look at that chubbins right there....aint she cute? ( The correct answer is " yes " ). Yep, that chubby cheeked little muffin there is me, Baby Amy, when i was about 6 months old. And yes, I am sitting in a flower basket, because it was the 80's and thats what Pixie Foto thought was cutting edge back then. Please not the awesomeness of my fluffy hair, my toasty home-knitted cardigan and my great big baby smile. Apparently my mum had this picture taken and entered me in a baby competition - which i did not win. But come on, look at Baby Me? How could you not vote for cheeks like that?

Wishful Thinking

I wish i was finding it easier to get past this.
I wish random little things didnt turn my mind to you.
I wish i didnt have to see your car driving around town, or worry about bumping into you somewhere.
I wish i'd never met you.
I wish, in my heart of hearts, that i really believed that.
I wish you hadnt made me feel so bitter. I want to be a better person than that.
I wish you hadnt lied, and kept up that lie, leading me on.
I wish you could see that thats exactly what you did, instead of denying it, and then giving me no chance of showing you evidence of the fact.
And i wish i hadnt found those photos. I simultaneously love and hate the way photos can call up memories. Memories i wish i didnt have.

I was cleaning out the bottom of Flynns wardrobe on Friday which, despite being his cupboard, is actually the storage spot for all of my old bills, correspondences and paperwork. There was plenty of crap in there that just went straight into the re-cycling bin but amongst it all i found a folder of photos of me and my ex-best friend. I wish i hadnt found them. For those of you who are new around here or those of you who missed it - my "best friend " dumped me late last year, saying she just didnt want to be friends with me anymore. There are, of course, more elaborate details to it than that ( me sending her a text announcing my pregnancy, her not speaking to me for a month or so and then saying i shouldnt be having a baby, "forgiving " each other, then me being ignored after she fell pregnant and gave birth to her own child and me expressing my disappointment and anger about it here on my blog... you know, just to name a few )but basically, in the end, it came down to the fact she didnt want to be friends with me anymore because, apparently, i'd changed. Not knowing how, or when, this change had come about she said she didnt really want to talk about it, but that the first time she noticed the so-called change and was annoyed by my behaviour was late 2008.

Stumped, i mulled things over. I pondered what i'd done, when i'd done it; i cried myself to sleep some nights and i cried in the shower most mornings for weeks on end; i talked things over, to myself, trying to figure things out. And then, after all that, i re-read through 2 years worth of emails.... and thats when i realised. She lied to me. Despite my angry and ill-thought-out blog post which was pretty much the beginning of the end ( and which i regret ), despite how angry she was at me for it and despite how many insults she threw at me, horrible characteristics she attributed to me.... SHE LIED. She lied to me for over a year and, in doing so, manipulated my feelings. She made me feel like the lowest being on the face of the earth for something as simple as a text message....BUT SHE LIED. She lead me on, and i have proof. I found it, with the photos. A copy of an email ( in regards to some advice i asked her for ), dated 25th March 2009, which ends in the following paragraph:
P.S. At the end of all this, I love that you value my opinion so much, but it IS your life and only you know how you feel so only you will know what's right. Either way I will be there for you no matter what happens. Mwah Mwah


LIAR. She said that, 5 months after i supposedly changed and offended her with my behaviour. 5 months after she realised she didnt really like me anymore. Why would she say that, if she didnt mean it? Why would she then still email me, the same old friendly chat, but deliberately go out of her way NOT to see me when she came home for the weekend? Why would she then, after " the text " and supposed forgivness, play happy friends with the rest of our peers but ignore me? Because she's a liar. And she lead me on, and manipulated me into thinking we were still close, and just waited til all that negligence and ignorance did my head in, and i made a mistake, so she could end the friendship but still be the " good guy ".

And, to be quite frank - thats not fucking fair.

A room with a view, but why is it sometimes difficult to see what’s there?

Last week I was on a brief holiday, re-charging my batteries in the tiny village of Roosebeck, in the South Lakes. The house I stayed in looked out over Morecambe Bay. Roosebeck is up the coast from Ulverston, and when the view was clear, it was possible to see Blackpool Tower on the horizon. However, there weren’t many fair weather days!

On the first morning I climbed up to the Hoad Monument in Ulverston. This is a 30m tower that sits at the top of Hoad Hill (133m) and it is one of the most iconic symbols of this part of the North West of England. If the weather is clear, there are 360o panoramic views of the Furness Peninsula, Morecambe Bay and the Southern Lake District to be had. However, when I got to the top, these surrounding areas were shrouded in mist and they were all but invisible.

And so it continued, apart from one morning when I was able to lay in bed and watch the most magnificent sunrise I have seen in many a year, for much of the time Morecambe Bay remained obscured by low lying rain clouds. The vibrant world that I knew to be there was turned into an unyielding, impenetrable greyness.

Problems with taking in a view was a bit of a theme while away. I was taken aback by the very intrusive reporting on the M11 crash of Monday morning – I did not understand why we were given a bird’s eye view of the devastation brought about in this accident. A film taken by a helicopter flying up and down the crash site was repeatedly shown throughout the news bulletin. It was an almost voyeuristic view of what would inevitably be a life changing event for all of those involved (directly and in-directly). Of course it is possible to argue that as individuals could not be identified from the helicopter view, such reporting was acceptable. However, the report left me feeling very uncomfortable and my thoughts go out to all those who will be affected by the accident.

The piece on the accident was followed in the news by the announcement that the UK Government plans to reform the NHS would be temporarily paused so that additional views might be canvassed, and where necessary adjustments made to the proposals. What fascinated me about the piece was the way in which those interviewed regarding the proposals appeared to become more un-knowing (and less bothered) about what the proposals might mean for them, the further away from Government they were. So by the time they report featured patients (sitting in a GP surgery), the views being expressed were characterised by perceptions of powerlessness and a wearying sense of ‘what will be will be’.

The problem appears to be a familiar one – the inability to communicate what the changes involve, what the impact is likely to be and the reasons for making the change in the first place. In fact one could easily substitute University Fees for NHS Reforms and arrive at the same conclusion. I am more interested in the NHS Reforms however. Many years ago I started my PhD looking at the way in which GP Fundholders used various forms of relationships to negotiate and take advantage of Margaret Thatcher’s introduction of a quasi- internal market for the NHS.

Towards the end of my PhD journey, the Conservatives were removed from power and Tony Blair swept in with a large majority and  hell bent on dismantling the NHS internal market. Out were to go GP Fundholders, and in were to come PCG and PCT’s. For six months or so, I had a very difficult time trying to avoid the thought that my study was now worthless. Thankfully, I had a very wise supervisor who walked along my path with me for for a while. And of course the reality was that whilst the language changed, and much money was spent on restructuring the NHS, the internal market continued and was possibly more successful than anything Margaret Thatcher could have ever hoped for. I also got my PhD.

I think the latest proposals to make further structural changes to PCTs and the Strategic Health Authorities do not appropriately reflect the contribution made by many managers and non-clinical staff in achieving the progress that has been made in the NHS over the last two decades. Whilst my own studies have shown that GPs will be able to commission the services required in the future, they will only be able to do so with the right kind of managerial support, leadership and infrastructure being available to them. Of course gaining access to these services might be just as difficult in the future as it can sometimes be now. I have been trying to get an appointment with my GP for nearly three weeks  – without success. No matter, working on the principle that 85% of the problems that result in us consulting a GP are self-limiting, I have given up trying to secure an appointment and moved on.

Polly Dolly - In The Trenches

Welcome to the first week of the 2nd year of the Polly Dolly challenge - the brainchild ( and very big success! ) of the lovely Dani over at Danimezza. This time around, at the start of a brand new Polly year, Dani is thinking autumn fashion, and she's thinking our Polly's might need to invest in a .....

Polly Dolly - In The Trenches by Amy1984 featuring a trench coat

Now, i already used a trench two weeks ago, in the " floral " challenge, so i had few other trench coat picks waiting in my saved items folder. I used a dress last time so this time i wanted to make my trench coat set a bit Audrey Hepburn inspired - slim fit jeans, mock turtleneck and cute flats, and incorporating this seasons neutrals to keep it all fresh. The trench itself is quite a classic cut but in a beautiful terracotta colour. And, just for a splash of colour, i've gone with a gorgeous baby blue tote, which i think works with or without the trench. A slick high pony and natural makeup finish the look off. I see Polly wearing this to the office on casual Friday - cute, comfortable and classic!

Friday Feast

Good morning and welcome to another Friday Feast. For those playing along at home ( or for those who want to ) Friday Feast is a fledgling link up ( which is so fledgling it doesnt even have a linky yet! ) where we each share a favourite recipe - sweet or savoury, dinner or dessert, budget or blue ribbon. It doesnt matter, as long as its delicious!

This week, i thought i'd go with something sweet:

Fruit and Nut Slice ( originally found in Recipes + magazine )
395g can sweetened condensed milk
125g butter, chopped
1tsp finely grated orange zest ( omit if you arent a fan of zest )
1/3 cup freshly squeezed orange juice
250g plain biscuits ( such as Arrowroots )
1 cup dessicated coconut
1 1/2 cups dried fruit of your choice
1/2 cup pecans or walnuts
1 1/3 cup milk chocolate melts

1. Grease 26x16cm base baking pan and line with baking paper, leaving over-hang at edges.
2. Combine condensed milk, butter zest and juice in small saucepan. Cook and stir over low heat until butter melts. remove from heat.
3. Process biscuits into fine crumbs. Add biscuit, coconut,dried fruit and nuts to condensed milk mixture. Stir to combine. Press and smooth into prepared pan. Cover with plastic wrap and chill in the fridge for at least an hr.
4. Melt chocolate in microwave on medium setting in 30 second bursts, removing and stirring in between, until melted and smooth. Spread chocolate over slice to cover evenly. Let cool for 30 minutes or until chocolate is almost set, then cut into squares to serve.
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I've made this slice quite a few times for my mums group meet ups or morning teas, and i gave my dad the recipe so he could make morning tea for his secretaries at work, and it always gets a great reception. Its moist and a bit chewy and nice and sweet with the fruit ( i usually use dried apricot and cranberries, but you could throw in sultanas or glace cherries aswell ) and the best thing about from the cooks perspective? Its no bake! Plus, it uses ingredients that most of us would keep in our pantries, or that we might have left over from something else. Plus, it keeps for 4-5 days in the fridge - although i'm sure it will be all gone by then!

What about you? Do you have a recipe to contribute this week ? Go, do your post, and then come back and leave a link to the post in the comments!

Early Old

Most of you are reading this in a newspaper on Thursday, April 7th which is my 60th birthday. My sister, Jane, sent me a card saying: “We spent our entire youth laughing at old people.” Inside, it said: “We are SO screwed.”It’s actually my 61st birthday if you count the first in 1951 at the end of which I was one day old. A year later, when I was one year old, would have been my second birthday, and so on. Today is the first day of my 61st year. I’m not just 60 - I’m “in my sixties.” I’m beginning my seventh decade. A friend reached this milestone last year and when asked how old he was, he’d say “Fifty-ten."Our newest granddaughter, Lila

The way we measure time is relative and this was best exemplified by a small sign I saw on the outside of a bathroom door once which read: “How long a minute is, is relative to which side of this door you’re on.” When I was about ten, a year seemed a very long time because it was one-tenth of my life. Now it’s only one-sixtieth and goes by quickly. I formulated a scale for age when I was ten: Up to twelve, you’re a kid. Then you’re a teenager until age twenty. After that you’re a young adult from twenty to forty. Forty to sixty you’re middle-aged and from sixty on, you’re old.

I finished “late middle age” yesterday. Today I’m “early old.”

I’m not sure how sixty is supposed to feel, but so far it’s pretty good. I’m in good shape, but I haven’t as much stamina. I can still do everything, but I prefer shorter intervals. I can deal with that, but mentally there are other effects. Sometimes I can’t recall the name of something until ten or twenty minutes after the conversation has ended or shifted to another subject. It’s in my head somewhere, but it’s as if it were on a slip of paper and buried under stacks of other paperwork on the desktop of my mind.

My hair is thinning, but it’s still mostly brown. Students ask me if I dye it and it bothers me that they’d think I would. If it were gray, I definitely wouldn’t dye it. That’s okay for women, but vain for a man. Why? I don’t know. That’s what I feel about it. My wife is a year younger than me and her hair is mostly silver. I’m glad she leaves it that way because it’s attractive. There’s a certain strength I sense in women who take care of themselves and allow their hair to age naturally.

Another thing that makes me feel older is when guys in their thirties call me “Sir.” It’s not when they’re trying to sell me something either. It’s happening when I meet them socially. I’ve never been in the military and to be addressed as “sir” is unfamiliar. Students have been calling me “Mr. McLaughlin” for decades but that’s different. The “Sir” thing is going to take some getting used to.

Softball season starts soon. It’ll be my thirty-fourth year playing Thursday nights at Westways in Lovell. I’m one of the older guys now, but last year there were still some showing up who were older. This year, we’ll see. Some younger than me have stopped playing already and come just to watch and drink beer.For about ten or twelve years now, I haven’t had a strong urge to hunt deer - and it used to be overpowering. I’ve been thinking maybe it’s due to diminished testosterone levels because I’d rather go into the woods and shoot pictures. So, I buy chuck-eye steaks at Hannaford’s Supermarket, which I like better than venison anyway. It might not be testosterone though because I still get the urge to punch some someone in the head once in a while. I haven’t actually done it for about thirty years, but it has crossed my mind, and that’s a testosterone thing too. Maybe the urge will diminish someday or go away entirely, but I don’t think so. There’s no shortage of people around still who desperately need a punch in the head, and they still cross my path.

An old priest once told that “As I get older, I care more and more about less and less.” I took that to mean he didn’t sweat the small stuff anymore. He accepted things he could not change and he tried harder to change the things that mattered most - and upon which he could have some effect. I’m pondering his words more lately and it’s helping me make decisions about what to do with whatever time remains for me on this earth.


I Have No Words...

Image from here

The urge to write

It is insane

A buzz inside

My fertile brain.

The subject which to

Touch upon?

An idea once had

But now is gone.

" Bloggers Block "

The proverbial name.

"Baby Brain "

Is sure to blame.

The urge to write

But no words yet...

This stupid poem

Is all you'll get!