Yes folks my mouse is roving, it has a life of it's own, without even touching it, it flips up to the little x at the top right hand side of any page I happen to be looking at and clicks on it. Hey Presto! the page has gone. You techi sorts (Prenin), do I need a new mouse? Or is there something I can do to keep this one from straying. It actually is a bit creepy when it happens, and absolutly infuriating when I happen to know that I am playing a high scoring game of Sheriff Tripeaks!

 

What is it about 'the dad' and me that we can't just decide to give a room a good clean. No, one thing leads to another and before we know it we are in B & Q picking up more paint. I swear, because of the many layers of paint, that bedroom of ours is several centremetres smaller all round than it was 25 years ago. This all came about because suddenly our bedroom is overlooked. The people who moved into the ajoining semi have decked their garden and built what appears to be a stage affair some 2ft from the ground right outside their own bedroom window, which in turn makes our 6ft fence all of 4ft. This seems to be their opted socialising place in the garden, and although I am sure they aren't, I feel they are gawping straight into our bedroom. So we decided to have some blinds. Which meant that the windowsill recess had to be thoroughly cleaned for the man to fit them, and well; the paint looked a bit shabby in places, and so started the whole thing of sanding down etc etc etc. Currently the whole of the bedroom resides in the sitting room. 

After a pretty heavy day, I went out for fish and chips tonight which we ate in the sitting room jammed in between chest of drawers, dressing table and various other odds and ends. Of course the big fat poo bah (cat) sat amongst this aray of stuff, anticipating the prospect of a tasty morsel and in doing so became so excited that he was actually sick over all the carefully cleaned pictures from the bedroom. Which was nice!

 

So I'm off to bed with my boook, not yet sure where the bed is, but I think I'll find it. Night night.

Don’t ever go into ALDI’s and be tempted to buy a Blood Pressure Monitor for £9.99. I’m telling you, I have never felt so ill as I have since that damned thing came into the house, it’s compulsive and about as accurate as Poob (our cat) is at actually hitting the litter tray! I bought it thinking I could keep a weather eye on our health, but since it arrived, I have had pains in the head, tingling in the arm and all manner of other scares lasting all of two seconds. Today I was required to see my GP, my yearly repeat prescription review - though why I need to do this is very puzzling, the only thing I require on prescription is Thyroxine and that’s because I don’t actually have a thyroid gland, so what’s he going to say when I get there other than it’s ok for me to continue with them, ‘Well, I think you can stop taking these tablets now’…… ‘and die’! – Anyway, I mentioned the BP monitor and apparently he has been inundated with ALDI shoppers who have been half scared to death by their monitor results. It would appear that the readings can be taken as a very rough guide only and shouldn’t be regarded as gospel. So, what’s the point? Mine’s going on ebay to scare some other poor sucker. Oh, by the way, my BP was pretty well as it should be, taken on what I would imagine to be very expensive machine.

 

Isn’t it lovely to see the gardens so green again……and don’t we wish it would stop raining! (Well quite so much).

Thank you for your kind comments regarding Dreda’s death, I really appreciated them.

Last week was a bit of a blur really, when the undertaker suggested Friday for the funeral it all seemed to be a bit too quick, but of course it wasn’t and now she has been finally laid to rest.

The funeral was a very traditional Requiem Mass followed by internment. We booked for 50 at a local hotel knowing there were people coming from all over the UK so that we could see her off in good style with some decent food and a drop of decent Whisky, although she liked a dram, she was more partial to a Guinness, and was positively encouraged by her doctor to drink it for it’s iron content. One or two (or more) did the honours on her behalf.

In amongst the usual suspects, and sitting at a table on their own I noticed an elderly couple who I didn’t know, I went across to them, thanked them for coming and apologised that I couldn’t put a name to their faces. She introduced herself and her husband Dick and said that she had worked with Mona for many years. I’m there, doing a quick take on this and decided she must mean Mona from the parish who was always asking after Dreda.  She went on to tell me that Mona was always talking about Hannah (her sister) and she was sure she would miss her terribly, and did I know where Mona was, she hoped she wasn’t too upset to come. The penny dropped of course and I had to then diplomatically tell them that I suspected they were at the wrong funeral. I’m ashamed to say that the more embarrassed they became the funnier it got to me, poor souls, all they could keep on saying was, ‘but we’ve had such a good feed’, which just made it funnier. I eventually convinced them that the person who would have enjoyed the situation the most would have been Dreda, her sense of humour being second to none. So off they went to the ‘other’ funeral in another function room in the same hotel, with the promise from me that if it was a less jolly crowd and the food wasn’t so good they should return.

Now I am in that half way position of coming to terms, not with terrible sadness – she certainly was ready to go – it’s more the feeling of breaking a comforting habit, loosing the familiar, God forbid, missing glancing through the People’s Friend she so loved and insisted on passing on to me.

That is worrying!

Last night at 8.40pm dear old Dreda died. I mourn her demise, yet, feel comforted by the knowledge that there is no more discomfort and that she had a wonderfully peaceful end, sleeping away and just going out like a little candle. I had been with her the whole day, and at 7.30pm I nipped home to shower and change for the night shift. As is the way of things beyond our control, she died barely 5 minutes before I arrived back at the hospital. Her favorite nurse was with her and she had slipped away peacefully.

Dreda was 96 and as bright as she had ever been, she was a family institution. She never married, but adored her neices, nephews and cousins and those of us who came to her as in-laws, she had a wealth of life experience and was a font of wisdom and humour, totally none judgmental and ready to see the best in all of us.

At 14 Dreda left home and went into service even though she had passed all her school certificates and could have embaced an accademic carreer. Money was short and she was the eldest of 5 so it was more important to everyone that she was earning and sending money home. Through her hard work and particular interest she ended as cook to some of the 'grandest' folk. Her career saw her in hunting lodges in Scotland, on cruises as special a cook to her families, preparing meals for royalty from home and abroad and perfecting her skills overall, making her much sought after.

World War 2, gave her another direction, she joined the WRENS and cooked her way through to the hearts of many a sailor, but romance was not for Dreda although she had a war as she remembered it, of fun, friendship and hardship.

After the war, her career took off again as she free lanced her way across the country as cook to the rich and famous, then when her mother's health became a concern, she returned home and settled as a school cook until her retirement. It must have been strange going from 'something' in aspic to jam roly poly. I'll bet it was the best jam roly poly ever!

Since her retirement she has propped up friends, family and strangers. Her quiet support in times of difficulty have only been revealed since she has been poorly and we have been inundated with best wishes from unlikely folk as well as those closest to her.

 Dreda was very proud of the fact that she was named after a Northumbrian Queen who became a saint. So, thank you for your life Etheldreda Smith, it enriched the lives of all of us who knew you.