So, so tired.

Does anyone know anything about probate? It's back to it again tomorrow after taking a few days off the forms and phonecalls merry-go-round to cobble together a paltry effort at assignment 4 in my current course. Doesn't help that I've got a grotty throat infection, either. I feel appalling. I have accrued a large amount of death-related debt. My brother is making my life miserable. And I miss my Mum.

Add a smiley picture, because you've got to keep positive, right? That's Elanor and I at my Mum's funeral. Smile for the camera....

Things that should not happen...

NHS sign:

Family planning advice
Use Back Entrance

as seen on Facebook.

Canesten Duo (for thrush)

Allows you to feel yourself again.

Observed by me and I'm sure countless others with dirty minds on TV advert.

On a more serious note...

Those police adverts. 'Let's keep crime down'. I live near a police station and they are plastered to every lamp post. HIDE YOUR VALUABLES. 1 IN 4 THROUGH AN UNLOCKED DOOR! The recent TV and radio campaign inviting you to think it absurd that anyone should go to bed and leave a laptop on the table in their own house. Can't do that, that's just asking to be burgled. Uh-huh. Yeah. If you leave your things out in your house, it's your fault if you get robbed. The poor passing burglar just could not help themselves.

I've been burgled. It is not nice. If a burglar wants to rob your house, they will, and it doesn't really matter what security you have in place. Whether you leave your mobile on the dashboard, or your keys in the lock, being robbed is never your fault, and I resent the campaign's implication that keeping crime down is the responsibility of innocent people.

Can you imagine the outcry if applied to another crime? Sensitive topic....but valid, I think.....HIDE YOUR CLEAVAGE. 1 IN 4 DRESSED LIKE A...........

But that wouldn't win any votes, would it?

Yet we are supposed to accept this 'advice' as purely sensible? It is not sensible. Innocent people should be able to live their lives without this fear, this implication that if you do something wrong you will have rolled out the red carpet to any passing criminal. Crime is the criminal's fault and no-one else's.

How about a nice new advertising campaign advising those of a dodgy moral substance of the consequences of their possible actions?

Elanor's LBD

All black dresses for 3/4 year olds (if you can find them at all) look like they are designed for minature streetwalkers. True, black was not compulsory, after all I organised the funeral, but seemed fitting and was my Mum's favourite colour.

So I'm really glad I got a sewing machine for Christmas. One £3.50 offcut and a lot of bodging later, et voila. Elanor's Little Black Dress.

I have never made a dress for a little person, I didn't have a pattern, and I haven't used a sewing machine for a proper project in ten years, so all things considered, it came out quite well.

Happy Valentine's Day!

I was told, this morning. Yes, it's the 11th. No, he doesn't know when Valentine's Day is. So he guessed.

I'll let him off, we have not celebrated it before, and we've been together eight years. Even more of a surprise, as he said. I got a large box of chocolates and a book, and I am just going to enjoy both in a hot, deep bath.

Yesterday was my Mum's birthday, we scattered her ashes under a tree at Rawdon Crematorium. Elanor decided it was a christmas tree. Quite impressed with the turnaround, she was only cremated 22 hours previously.

I am musing on a long rant about random articles that have been bugging me, as a return to a more usual blog format - but I think it will keep for another day - when I may, or may not, be more coherent.

Thankyou everyone for the lovely messages of condolence.

How is it possible...

How is it possible...

... that my Mum is dead?
I'm sorry, that just can't be.
It just can't, it is horrible.

My Mum is a powerhouse of opinion
a pillar of directness.
But I was there, and she could not face
her own powerlessness.

My Mum is a force of nature,
a sheer clench of will.
But I watched her struggle
up the too long. Long. Winding hill.

My Mum is a whirlwind of fire,
and steel, and strong.
But I saw her gasp with pain
and rage that it was wrong.

My Mum is fierce, and big, and scary
- my under-bed monsters never dare.
But she checked herself into the hospice
where the bed-end notes give the scare.

My Mum can't give me a hug
It would give too much away.
But she held and kissed those nurses.
Right from the very first day.

My Mum hasn't held my hand
since I could cross a street on my own.
But I held hers for four days straight
because those seeds were sown.

My Mum is someone who will defend me
to her last breath.
But I saw them. Rattling, terrifying.
and she couldn't defend me from death.

My Mum is someone who dances
like nobody is watching.
But I saw her die.

My Mum is angry.
And so am I.