There has been no greater act of love.
It was this act and this sacrifice that brought new meaning to the precious nature of love, of the unending devotion of parent for child, of the respect and loyalty of child to parent.
This moment brought fresh to the world, and to our hearts, the all encompassing unconditional love that holds us in its presence even before our conception. It is this love that carries us through the pathways of life; is with us through our deepest despair and darkest fears; in our triumphant victories and successes, in our bitter defeats and failures. It is love which does not turn its face in shame and sorrow but holds us in the gaze of true acceptance, of understanding and of perpetual hope.
There was no greater gift given that this.

This Easter time while we move from a season of preparation to one of celebration, while we remember the sorrow of loss and the joy of reconciliation, we are called to remember this great act of loyalty and love. We are asked to open our hearts and share in that love with humbleness and humility- just as it was first given to us.

May peace and love be with you this Easter.
May you be filled with the energy of a season which promises growth and change.
And may the challenges of the coming year bring you closer together with those around you, strengthening the bonds which unite us, healing those which have suffered affliction and generating opportunities to engage with new people and situations.

Happy Easter.

For those in the know, and those not- Lent starts on Wednesday.
that is the 6 weeks of preparation up until Holy week and the Easter services.
Lent has always been considered by myself as a time to challenge my discipline, to try and be a better person despite the pain it sometimes brings, and to reflect.
Those are good things, hard things but good things.

I try to give something up and take something on during Lent. But this year I am a little at a loss what to do.
For the last few years I have given up caffeine and choc completely and tried to be a calmer person. But this year I don't know- Do I do the same or different?

I would welcome some suggestions- but also some reflections about what you guys do or don't during this time of the year.

Would you rather be a high elf or a wild elf?

Let me know people.

Now don't get me wrong members of the jury, I love children. But one of the essential facts of childhood is that children grow- it is what makes it so precious. Each stage of development mental, emotional and physical is important. It leads on to the next new experience, the next great adventure.Babies, to toddlers, to kids, to teens, to young adults, to (dare I say it) grown ups. Boys into men, girls into women.
Yes there can always be overlapping areas, the woman may have some element of the girl or uncomfortable teenagers lurking around in there. The man....well anyone who has ever watched Top Gear or seen the supposedly grown man get a new, of want of a better word, "toy"- there is always the boy in there somewhere just waiting to explode excitedly and often messily forth.

None of this I have a problem with. We are who we are in the present moment, shaped and forged by our experiences, always containing some element of the past.
However here come my crime. My opposition, the focus of my ire, is those self proclaimed "Little Girls". whose deliberate retardation, if not total cessation, of development makes me want to hurt something- often them, even more often myself.
What do I mean? Surely I am not against a liking for pink, the tinkling of a giggle. No I mean those females whose refusal to accept the process of biological development from girlhood into womanhood. Who deliberately stay, strive to stay, the size they were at 13, 14, 15 even 16.
I am not against the petite- hell no. This is a very specific, disgustingly pervasive trend in women- and it is against pretty everything that Mama nature had in mind. Let me state for the record right now--- THE KNEE SHOULD NEVER BE THE LARGEST PART OF THE LEG. It might be ok, as a transitional stance, at the ages of 12-14 but at 20+ NO!!

So ladies and gentlemen of the jury- I stand before you, aware of my guilt but petitioning to your judgement to be acquitted of these charges of intolerance.
My closing argument harks to precedent- wrapped in a song (which has been edited for the purpose of relevance)

Little girls
Little girls
Everywhere I turn I can see them
Little girls
Little girls

Night and day
I eat, sleep and breathe them

Little cheeks
Little teeth
Everything around me is little
If I wring
Little necks
Surely I will get an acquittal

Some women are dripping with diamonds
Some women are dripping with pearls
Lucky me! Lucky me!
Look at what I'm dripping with

Little girls
How I hate
Little shoes
Little socks
And each little bloomer
I'd have cracked
Years ago
If it weren't for my
Sense of humor
Some day
I'll step on their freckles
Some night
I'll straighten their curls
Send a flood
Send the flu
Anything that You can do
To little girls
Some day I'll land in the nut house
With all the nuts and the squirrels
There I'll stay
Until the prohibition of
Little girls.

My head feels like this icon right now.
I have ear-ache again and I thought I had caught it early enough by getting to the docs yesterday but no.
I have snakes in my ears and throat. I want to curl up in bed not finish my full working day and then go and babysit.
BAH

I am going out to a Gig at the Celtic Connections festival after work tonight.
I was very organised brought make up, change of clothes etc to work despite the urge to just be a slob about everything because I had an 8.25 Doc appoint this morn.
I go to get ready and what do I find----shock horror----No eye-liner. I am at a loss. I know exactly where the eye-liner is. It is in the fridge with the cheese. Why?! well why the hell not.
I will make do and mend because such is life. but still these baby blues won't be as sparkly tonight.

We finally got a new hoover last night and my god the difference.
The Bear bought one which was specifically designed for houses with pets -we don't have any but we a Bear and He maintains I shed more than any pet ever might.
It was amazing- wasn't fighting with the floor for it to relinquish its dust.
So last night I hoovered, washed floors, dusted, cleaned bathroom, cleaned kitchen and took out Trash.
Consequently the house is pretty much close to being clean- even if it is nowhere near being tidy.
I could really use a housework pixie. Sigh.

Sitting at work rather confuddled about the news that Heath Ledger is dead.

I have just watched the latest BBC/Andrew Davies adaptation of Sense & Sensibility- and find myself again full of that happy sad emotion. Of witnessing beatuifully crafted joy and sorrow in both its oringal observations by Miss Austen and through its adaptation which reminds and revives that which we sometimes forget has been so often and deeply felt throughout time. As I sit not crying but heartfull. I know both hope and sorrow.

Stevie Smith - Not Waving But Drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

I am at a loss. I have been trying to write something here for a few days now but have been unable to. Currently struggling with the demons and darkness in my own head I didn't want that to be all I was about.
I struggle with depression. It is hard but I get up and show up everyday. I talk to people and I try to engage with life as much as the haunting refrain of my own thoughts allow me.
There have been better days but there have been worse. I am still here. I thank the love of God, of my Mother, my bear and some very dear friends for that.

Today was a day where I realized a little more how much I would, in my own urge to be without pain, cause so much suffering to others as to be unbearable.

A family friend- for whom my mother had a deep affection- has taken her own life today.
My mother's hysterically devestated phone call where she told me and saught to reinforce to me how much she loved me, further thrust home that I may want to cease but I promise never ever to cause my mother that much pain and suffering.So much so that I cannot even begin to process my own reaction to the news.
She has left behind a daughter in her early teens and many friends and family members who will miss her deeply and continually.
While my mother's question was Did she not know, did she not understand she was loved? haunts me I could not verbalise my answer- the one which I fight with- that is how much pain, how much loss, how much darkness must she have felt in the depths of her soul- to cross that final line between knowing there are reasons to stay and no longer being able to feel them, to care, to be any longer in such a well of hopeless despair.

Trite it sounds to say my heart is with all she has left behind. However I cannot help thinking/ hoping/ praying (despite all dogma etc) that she at last is at peace, without pain, without worry, and with God.

So I walked out of church today.
I am not particularly proud of it. In fact it makes me feel awful but as I sat there I felt I was getting further and further from the presence of God with every passing second.
There are a list of reasons- many were just the final straws that seemed to be delivered in one bale.
I sat in the hall and tried to still my mind, to pray, to be able to breathe a little out of the fug of the clouds of incense and insensitivity.
Mum came out at the sign of peace, to bring me back, to offer me her peace.
I knew it had upset her that I had left but she understood my reasons because many of them are things that upset her also.
I went back but basically just experienced another 20 minutes that tested not only my patience but probably further moved me down the road to hell for irreverence and blasphemy.
I have faith, I believe and trust in God- it is just the “alter Christo”. I am having an issue with at the moment.

Forgive me father for I have sinned- I cannot believe that as a priest and an educated man you are so bloody insensitive, infuriating, selfish and on and on…are you Catholic in anything but doctrine, dogma- can you see your congregation? Can you understand these people who make up the body of the church are suffering and you are making yourself unavailable in the shelter of ritual and regression? Oh and please edit or proof your sermons- they are like the presentations of a first year who has barely covered the material and has woken up 5 minutes before class to throw something together. Surely the word of God is worth more than that. I know you know your stuff- why do you waste it so!

Is that an honest act of reconciliation? It is definitely a confession.

Forgive me God but I see a man and he bugs me.

It is time to pull out the ‘Big Girl Pants’ and get ready to wear them.
Tomorrow morning at 9am I start my new job as International Administrator at GCal.
I am nervous and excited and finally realising that I have probably not made full use of all the time sans monetary employment I have had recently.
It should just be the start of a job hand over, training, meeting people- Oh God I think I am going to be sick.
I know they wouldn’t have hired me if I couldn’t do the job. I know I can do the job. I even have a suspicion I may be pretty damn good at it. However none of this happy knowledge is making the thought of getting up and showing up tomorrow, suited and booted, any easier.

One of my Christmas roles has always been the tamer* and dresser of the Christmas tree. Mine is the responsibility of choice of tree, then the ‘negotiation’ of choose tree into the base*, then come lights and colour theme- I tend to always opt for blue and silver because I like the frosty feel.

While undertaking this role I find myself kept company by three wise gentlemen- Nat King Cole, Tony Bennet and my father.

This year is the first year I have really trimmed the tree in 2 years. I had Nat and Tony but missed my favourite man, my greatest supporter and artistic enthusiast.

Some days are easier than others.
Some days I just miss my Daddy.

*I always seem to pick feisty trees, who require more than an effort to encourage them to display their full Christmas beauty.
*This generally involves saws and swearing.

It is called the quiet coach for a bloody reason. Those moronic idiotic and selfish, ignorant people who get on it and not only make phone calls but continue to talk as if there isn’t people around them desperately trying to study or work are I think responsibly for the breakdown in society in general. Ok I know rules are there to be bent, dented, if not totally broken- but there is a whole bloody train on which to continue your earth shatteringly mundane utterances.

There is an announcement. There are signs on every blinking window.

It is not war and peace. It is not neuroscience. It is just a bit of fucking consideration for others.

Deep breath in.
And out.

Sitting on the train as it hurtles back to Newcastle.
It’s raining hard and grey. The water lashes the windows.
I am returning to help Mum with Christmas preparation but inside I am afraid.
I do not know what is going to happen in the up and coming weeks.
New job, the bear is probably quitting tonight.
Bills, presents, changes- anxiety.

Dear Readers, I owe you one reflective post about the wonderful graduation, about the fantastic party afterwards- the food, the drink, the music- about being loved and sharing my life with my family and friends.

However that is not what you are getting..

My feet itch. They itch like I have an army of satanic imps under my skin. Not the whole foot- no, no just the big toe and that whole side. The itch is one where on severe scratching feels like an orgasm is nearing-however this time I could definitely think of more pleasurable ways to make that happen- but any relief at all is welcome.

I don't know what it is.
I don't know how it started.
I just wanted it to stop.

Its nearing 36 hours- I have done ice bath, anti-itch cream, anti- fungal cream- and now I am sitting in my living room with look-warm oatmeal, ceran wrapped around my feet.

Yes folks my feet are taking a whole new stance on Porridge.

It looks like something vomited on them. It feels like something vomited on them.

This sensation is going on the list of weird experiences for 2007.

I can't stop giggling- which is a bonus because it is distracting from the itch.

I love it when you make a ref- not any explanation. Just a word or phrase- that doesn't ever really link and someone gets it.
They know you.
They remember the conversations and the situations.
The remember the tune without the words, without the beat, without anything but a sense of a song.

Love you Tigger-girl.

I decided that I would give thanks with friends this Sunday. I have a great deal to give thanks for and it also gave me a good excuse to invite people over, cook a fantastic meal and chill out.

What was on the menu:

Roast pork- Slow roasted with garlic, cloves, salt and honey.
Apple sauce- with 3 different types of apple, Morgan's spiced rum, soft brown sugar, nutmeg and cinnamon.
Creamy Mashed potatoes.
Honey roasted parsnips.
Roast Potatoes Large and Small.
Yorkshire Puddings.
Green Beans, Carrots and Broccoli with butter.
Sweet and salt gravy.

Then for pudding, my first ever- and I have to say highly successful- attempt at mousse.
White Choc and Cardamom mouse with dusted coca top.

Eased down with a lovely red courtesy of Eli & J.

So much food but lots left too- so I did my usual mother hen- nurturing/ hate of waste and sent sauces and mousse's home to fill them up and ease a meal time.

I was busy with cooking but the flat was so lovely- boy sat reading,as was J some of it, and Eli writing away traversing the Sublime with grace, Chris arriving and just being at peace in the space.

I realized how rich I am. What a wealth I have in friendship, in talents and in the ability to love and be loved by others. [I will work on learning to love myself but it takes some effort.]

So now I am slightly more rotund than I was before but pleased with what I made and what I shared.

So this probably won't be the most earth shatteringly interesting post considering the period of silence. I have been told- very insistently- that I get myself writing again. So I am going to try- and for that I pity your poor eyes.

Where have I been and what has been happening?

Lots and absolutely nothing.

Brief summary-

Friends broke my heart and I fell apart. (Back and rhyming- heaven for fend)
Old friends, best friends and true friends saw me through.
Dissertation was due- and some how it was submitted- it got a first and I graduate with distinction next wed. Where I plan on celebrating the embracing of change with family and good friends.
I took a break from the world and it told me that wasn't good enough.
R nearly had to quit work- then the fates decided to weave a little support in and not only did he keep his job but I got a great position as International Administrator at GCU.

So it is Sunday night and I sit in my living room, which smells of the days efforts at food and friendship, and am slightly drowsy from food and contentment.

In-depth musings to follow.