Knock backs

The thing I find most alarming is the damage a single knock back can do to your confidence and self-esteem. Well, actually two in one day...yesterday was a complete sod of a day and tipped me right off the edge into a pit of worry, self pity and hate for the wrongs which have been handed out to me, primarily, visual bloody impairment.
I hated myself yesterday, I hated that I cant be 'normal' I hated that rock bottom requires such bloody effort to pick yourself up and I hated that nothing seems to ever go the way I want it to....just for once, just once, do you think I could answer a phone call and the news could be positive, or open a letter and it tell me that actually I am a lovely person so this month I can pay my gas bill with a hug and everything will be ok. Instead I hear that because I am applying for work it means that I cant get help with my bills, never mind that the job I applied for I didn't get, and the four other jobs I applied for I didn't even get a thanks but no!
Yesterday was the type of day that sends someone to bed and they don't get up for two days. I however still have a Ralph to walk, two young ladies to pick up after and a house to clean...mind you, I was on the brink of punching the next person who mentioned Christmas right on the nose. 
I completely messed up the first interview I've had in 15 years and its worse because I knew exactly where I went wrong but had to wait three days to be have that clarified. I was a mess, but I intend to put to down to experience, or lack of and at least now I know what to expect next time round.
Anyway, all that aside, its the 'mental' side of things that worries me, how easy it is for dark thoughts to creep into your head, and how one rejection can make you feel so useless and dissolve any kind of faith in your ability to succeed. 
Crying is supposed to help, but it exhausts me and as my tear ducts don't work properly so crying isn't helpful, the chemical released when you start to cry only helps momentarily until I realise that I've got crusty eyes instead of wet ones, my contact lenses dry up and cloud over, then I can see even less than before, which then starts off the whole feeling rubbish cycle again.
I don't like this period my life is taking me through at the moment and for all my efforts I seem unable to steer it in to more positive waters. 
Why do we let things, events, people worry us so much? Maybe, like myself, we like to be in control of the things which happen and the emotions that come attached to those things, being out of control makes us feel vulnerable, I felt like I had failed yesterday. Failed myself and my family.
By tea time I was thoroughly fed up with myself and knew the wallowing period had peaked and it was time to re-channel my emotions into something more positive.
Everything happens for a reason right? Maybe there is something better waiting around the corner, right? This time next week, yesterday will be drifting further away into the past and the only way to go is forward...right?
I took Ralph out for a little walk and when I got home I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop in front of me staring at a massive list of jobs on the Indeed website, by the time I had filtered out the driving jobs and caring jobs the list was, well, it was disheartening to say the least.
So I tapped into Google 'Jobs for the disabled' and jobs working with disabilities came up....surely there must be something out there that helps people back into work. The search just kept giving me jobs working with disabled people, so I went onto the RNIB page for my area and asked for help, what do you know! Within seconds I had reply's from people giving guidance and support. 
Through these people I discovered that there is a disability icon that companies attach to their logo informing people that they are a 'disability friendly' company and actively employ staff with disabilities, including VI. Once again the fire inside me flicked back on and at 6am this morning I found myself back at the laptop applying for a role at a nearby Tesco. I also discovered that my local hospital has one of these logos to, and just as soon as I have published this, I am going to apply there too!
I don't think sighted people quite understand how frustrating it is to loose sight. Its annoying in its self because you cant see, but sight loss enhances the brain, my brain is crying out for activity, its more alert now than its ever been and we notice things that sighted people often miss because our other senses are magnified.
It is so good to know that there is support out there, and I love hearing everyone else's stories I am inspired by the VI folks out there holding down a job, those people have given me the courage to keep applying, which is amazing given the fact that I am a bury my head in the sand when things aren't going my way type of gal. 
Today had been a good day, and I understand the realism of being able to walk into a new job four weeks after leaving my last one was slightly errr... overkill, and I hadn't given thought to how hard it is to actually apply for these roles given the last interview was 15 years ago.
Today I listened to a firm but kind voice telling me that things will get better and there are so many other possibilities and opportunities out there. That voice along with the other kind words of support from the RNIB Facebook page have put me back on track. Thank you everyone xx

seeing differently

A few months ago I wrote two very different blogs and couldn't bring myself to post them. At the time they seemed 'heavy' as so many things had happened in such a short time, well, in about a year anyway, and I didn't know which way to turn. Reading those blogs back to myself today, I realise that it is OK to write things that no-one is going to ever read, there is nothing wrong in writing your feelings down because some how writing things down, a lot like talking to a good friend, is a way of coping with the stuff that goes on around you. 

Now that my situation is changing, I've been thinking a lot about all the people I have met on my life's journey, wondering about the people I knew who have moved on, and especially thinking about the people whose journeys have been, what I would consider as devastating at times. One lady I think about at this time of year as we approach Christmas especially. I think about the things life had dealt her and wonder how she had the strength to pull herself out of bed every day and still produce a smile. 

The thing is, you see, is that your worst time is just that!!.its yours, no-one can measure or understand how you feel, because no-one knows. You do meet people along the way that I think you have some kind of spiritual connection with and that person might help you carry the load, but they still don't know exactly how you feel. 

My problem is I compare myself to everyone else, and end up feeling that I shouldn't be feeling sorry for myself because.. there's so many people out there with things going on in their lives that are so much worse than mine, but in fact there isn't. I don't know, and cant begin to understand how my friend feels when we get to this time of year..EVERY year, I can only hold her in my heart and think of her, but that doesn't help the way she feels only the way I feel.

And this works both ways, I cannot expect people to 'get' me, and this is where, I think, I have been going wrong. I assume that people I meet will automatically understand  the trauma that comes along with sight loss and they will make allowances for the days that I am crabby or the days that I come across as being rude, and what's great is that nearly all the people who know me do just that, these are the people who knew me pre-sight loss, these people have almost protected me and kept me safe from those who don't know me.

Then the time came when the environment changed and I had to mingle with people who knew nothing about me, some wanted to understand and some just didn't. Suddenly those protectors are no longer there, my own invisible bubble wrap was popped and have been introduced to a new world. 

For a while I seriously felt like I was running around naked, everyone, in my mind, was looking at me. judging me and a few times I felt some people I met didn't believe I had sight loss.

I totally lost sight of everything I was taught in my CBT sessions, and that was when the whole jigsaw puzzle scenario began. Some-one had thrown my puzzle in the air and there was no way of finding those pieces because they were still in the air, way above my head. 

When RNIB started promoting 'See the person not the sight loss', they produced a few videos attached to the slogan. One of the videos had this guy sitting at a table in what looked like a shopping centre café, he was eating an ice-cream and it showed other peoples reactions to this guy, to many it looked a lot like he was looking right at them and eating his ice-cream in a 'suggestive' manner. One woman lifts her left hand and points at her wedding ring, another one unzips her top a bit and fluffs up her cleavage and then this other guy who clearly thinks the guy eating the ice-cream is coming on to him so he blows kisses at him When the guy eating the ice-cream gets up and flicks out his white cane and walks past the other people without a glance, the other people are mortified. 

It made me laugh one because I am a little bit evil but, two, because I can relate to that completely.

Its scary how someone can just assume something about you with out knowing anything about you isn't it?

I know I take it for granted that everyone understands sight loss. It might sound harsh that I don't want to keep explaining why I do things a certain way, or why I seem to be ignoring someone when actually their constant talking means I have to concentrate harder on the other stuff that is going on around me.

 The trouble is, traditionally when someone is labelled as being blind some people think that being blind means, well, it means you cant see and the fact that you are out without using a cane or you are able to hold down a job must mean that either you are lying or you cant be that bad! 

I think I have finally come to terms with the fact that some people just aren't interested in what my sight loss means to me, the people close to me know how different environments effect me, they understand how changes to my usual routine take a lot of adjusting too, and that is really all I need to worry about. 

The last three weeks have been a big fat bag of mixed emotions, one minute I am balling my eyes out the next I am as high as a kite. Today has been the first day I have really felt peaceful inside. I put up some Christmas lights in the conservatory, which was a hilarious procedure as I had to get the ladder in from the garden which was covered in leaves, mud rain water and spiders, there I am balanced on the top of this ladder with a string of flashing fairy lights stuffed in my dressing gown pocket, a tube of super glue in my mouth (which was a very bad idea) and some little, apparently sticky, hooks. I happily wobbling around trying to fight off the cobwebs and there's this little whimper from wayyyy down below on the carpet there sits Ralph, the dog clearly knows I should not be up the ladder and continues to whinge until I got down. I tell you something though, there's no way those fairy lights are coming back down, I'm afraid they are stuck to the walls forever now, and when the super glue leaked onto my lips I had the panic of my life, wondering how I was going to phone for help if my lips got glued together. 

Ralph and I have been on a good two hour walk in the autumn sunshine, and I am now feeling tired after my busyish day.

Leta see what next week brings! xx

Job centre confusion

I am totally confused!
Yesterday I went into town for my appointment at the job centre to sign on. I have never had to use the job centre in my life and am finding it the most demeaning experience ever! 
So, I applied for Job seekers allowance three weeks ago and received a letter a week later to say I would receive £72 a week, four days later I got another letter to tell me they had changed their mind and I wouldn't get anything! So I phone the 'Helpline' number and a lady tells me that JSA only lasts for 28 days so I need to apply for something else...also named JSA, get a form from the job centre.
Yesterday was my third visit, and while I sat wedged in between a young man who kept sucking his teeth while cradling his can of special brew and seemed to have trouble stopping his legs from shaking and another young man who had terrible body odour and kept sniffing every two seconds, I thought WTF am I doing here? and get yourself a bloody tissue.
This isn't fair, I keep telling myself this is just a process but honestly mingling with the 'cant be arsed to find myself a job' people of the world, just makes me feel so horrible, sad and low. 
I am always called first which also irritates me, its like they think, oh quick, its the blind lady, we better see her first, actually I am quite happy to sit and wait my turn, either that or they are putting off dealing with the smelly little sods sitting beside me.
I dunno, maybe I am wrong, but I kind of thought that the people at the job centre were supposed to recommend jobs for you to apply for, I thought that was the whole point! Last time I went I took in my CV, the lady sat behind her desk and looked blankly at me when I handed it to her and said...errr, I'll pop it in your file! It's no good in the bloody file, at no point has anyone I've seen asked me if I have applied for any jobs or offered me any kind of job related conversation. As far as I can tell, you go in every two weeks, sign on the line and your money gets paid into your account (except it doesn't in my case) and that's that, you are free to go sit on a bench with your can of special brew. Surely they are supposed to guide you into work and get you off the JSA, surely its better to be in work than claiming benefits isn't it? I want to work, but I don't think the job centre is going to support me with this, and I wonder if its just me, maybe they think I should be sat at home on the sofa feeling isolated and lonely, because that's what disabled people should do isn't it?
Not this bloody disabled person, I can see I have one hell of a fight ahead of me, and I think I might have to get RNIB's new slogan tattooed across my forehead...See the person not the sight loss. 
I don't think I have ever felt so useless, and frankly so poor, literally skint.
I wish I didn't have to go to the job centre but I am doing everything I am supposed to. I have found myself watching people a lot more, trying to decide if they are enjoying the job they do, and I am not actually sure the crowd in the JC do enjoy their job, the guy who I saw yesterday gave me the distinct impression that he was looking down his nose at me, when I told him I had been to the RNIB offices to do some shadowing, he stopped typing on his computer, looked at me over the top of his glasses and said dryly without any enthusiasm...'Good luck with that!' if the people who are supposed to be helping you aren't helping how the hell does anyone stand a chance of moving forward and finding work.
However, they are about to come unstuck as I have a meeting on this subject soon, and now I have experienced how just bloody awful it is having to battle to fight your corner, I shall not be shy in telling whoever wants to know that this is shit!
No-one knows what I am capable of, no-one knows how hard I will work, no-one knows how much I can give, no-one knows how reliable I am, and no-one is prepared to give me that chance, just because I have a sight problem, it doesn't mean my brain has stopped working, if anything my brain is more alert than some of the people I have worked with who are sighted. Please don't judge me on my sight loss.
And now I am off to the fridge to find some chocolate, and sit back on my sofa.
xx

Mid week adventure

well, a new day and my boy is looking much better! We went for a long..slow..walk this morning, the furthest we have been in at least two weeks, he managed the steps of the bridge going over the railway station without stopping, and he spent most of the walk ahead of me instead of lagging behind.

He had chewed his tail, which was looking awful, but that seems to be looking better too.

Well earned treat and sofa time after a two hour stroll around the woods!

Anyway, last week a volunteer for Bedfordshire Sight Concern delivered me a new dab radio.

It looks the same as the old one, except it now has a memory stick component, which means I can now play my talking books while I am cooking dinner or doing housework. 

The guy dropped it round on Friday morning and it hasn't been off since then really, tuned into my two favourite radio stations, Smooth Extra and kisstroy, I have been bopping my way around the house singing at the top of my voice (which is a nasty experience for anyone passing). I hadn't realised how much I had missed having the radio, I am going to try to find the RNIB radio channel later and get acquainted with that.

Last week was crazy busy, I was at the RNIB in London on Monday all day, I met some really lovely people and being in such a positive environment gave me the kick up the backside I needed. 

The week before I had applied for four jobs, if I am honest I was a bit bored and fed up, so I did a little experiment, two of them I disclosed my disability to, and the other two I didn't..bet you cant guess which two I heard from on Tuesday morning asking if I would like to attend interviews, as it happened, one was a bit mis-leading in the advert, when the lady on the phone started to explain more about the role, I realised that it was more of a care assistant role, which i something I need to move away from and the other one, well, I just wanted to see if I could get a interview. The other two, the ones I disclosed to, I still haven't heard from. So, there we are, inclusion for everyone eh?

Wednesday found me on the train to Peterborough for my very first coffee social, with other visually impaired folks. Despite the crappy weather, it was a lovely morning, I met some people with some fascinating stories that ignited something in me which had been blown out months ago. The creative writer in me was exploding in my head and I was dying to get out pen and paper and start making notes I ate lemon drizzle cake instead and sat still while three guide dogs wiggled around my legs under the table, one of them, settling across my feet keeping my toes warm.

I spent the afternoon nosing around the RNIB offices, chatting to more lovely people, again, the atmosphere is so positive that you cant help feeling at home.

I left the RNIB at 2.30pm

  to catch the 3 o'clock home as I needed to meet my daughter at 3.30. But the train had been cancelled as a train near London had broken down on the track and was causing chaos. The next train had been cancelled to, the next one was 4.18. So, I took myself off to Waitrose, used their loo and wondered around. I found the café and sat there for a while wondering how to waste more time, when my phone rings, daughter number two is worried where I have got to, I explain there is trouble on the tracks and she checks her 'app' and informs me that the 4.18 has been cancelled too.

 The daughter starts to panic, insisting that I am going to be stuck there and someone needs to rescue me. I assured her that I did not need rescuing, and that I will go back to the station and ask someone what's going on. Three cancelled trains equals a s**t ton of people all crammed into the station, necks craned trying to get the first glimpse of a moving train on the departures board. My cane collided with a few ankles and suddenly the crowd parted like the dead sea and I made my way to the information desk. 

A nice young lady let me through to the platform and said there should be a train at 5. As I stand there the platform gets more and more crowed and I

know there is no way I am going to get on this train safely with all these people, who frankly weren't very happy with the delays. So, I ring my partner just for a chat, a reassuring voice, but ohhhh noooo. He is in more of a panic than my daughter, and instructs me to go back to the information desk. I refuse and hang up.

The very next minute, there is a voice over the loud speaker telling me to go back to the information desk where I will pick up assisted travel. 

Once again the crowd parted and I made my way back to the information desk. A elderly guy takes my arm and tells me that he will help me on the train when it arrives and get me a seat. NOTHING will go wrong and you will be much safer here with us as there is about 600 people on the platform waiting to board the train. 

So, in rolls the train, a young man and his wheelchair and I are escorted to the disabled carriage and seated. I must admit I was relieved to be sat safely on the train, even though it wasn't moving. 5.20, and the guys who put me on the train was back, there is no driver for this train so we will all have to change trains. I say...'why cant the driver of the other train just drive this one?'...but no, this seemed to be a ridiculous idea, and so 600 people, me and my escort all barrel off to platform two. I go to use the stairs, but my escort says...health and safety my love, we will use the lift. Mate, there's F**K ALL WRONG WITH MY LEGS I JUST WANT TO GET HOME!!

In the lift I go and he faffs around with his radio, just as we get out of the lift I see the train on platform two pull away from the station. Honest to god, 600 bloody people...I have a guide and I still missed the bloody train. 

I already knew the next two trains had already been cancelled, the station was disserted, not a single person in the whole place, except me, my cane and my escort. The poor bloke was mortified and took me back to....wait for it.....the information desk and got me a chair. I couldn't speak as I wasn't sure what was going to come out of my mouth so I thought it best not to say anything at all. I think at some point a little sob might have escaped me and when the escort approached me he looked so wary that I couldn't be cross. 

'Don't worry my love, the railway have booked you a taxi to get you home'...all I could say was ..'but, I'm hungry 'so he gave me a card for a free coffee. I hate coffee, but I took it anyway, thanked him and was bundled into a taxi. 

The taxi driver, really nice bloke, but had no idea how to get to my area of Bedfordshire and asked if he needed to get on the A14....no mate A1.

Two hours after leaving the station, five hours after leaving the RNIB offices, I get home to a bowl of soup and my bed.

Gotta love an adventure!

xx

Poorly Ralph!

Evening all...What a crazy couple of weeks, since I've not been in work I am struggling to understand how I actually had time to go to work in the first place!

Some things have been moving very slowly but other things have slotted into place and forced me to buck up and get on with it.

Unfortunately, my boy has been properly poorly, which has occupied most of my worrying so I haven't really had much worry left to worry about anything else!! Poor Ralph, produced a nasty poop with blood in it about ten days ago, I took him to the vet and she thought that he had impacted anal glands, she released them...which was bloody disgusting...once she had finished wiping down the table and the units in the examination room which was covered foul smelling bum juice she sent us home saying he should feel better. He was not impressed and having is bum felt and was in a mood for the rest of the day. 

Over the next couple of days his coat became wiry and his eyes were dull, he just wasn't right. 

The youngest daughter and I went off to Suffolk for a couple of days leaving eldest daughter at home in charge. Day two and I get a panicked, very upset daughter on the phone, saying that Ralph had bled all over my living room carpet, so we came home. He seemed lively enough and the following morning I took him on his favourite walk, but he just wasn't interested, he didn't even raise his head when the deer darted out as she always does when we walk that route. I was starting to get really worried when he started lagging behind, then he sat down and that was it! No amount of coaxing was going to make him walk home,  so there was nothing else for it, I picked him up and carried him home, by the time I had reached the train station steps I was sweating and needed to put him down as my back and arms were aching. As I put him on the floor I noticed my coat felt wet, I thought...bloody charming, the little sod has peed on me, but it wasn't pee, my coat was covered in blood and when I took a closer look, so was he, I tried to walk him up the platform steps but he was just too weak, so I wedged him under one arm and got my phone out to call the vets with the other. I got an appointment straight away, got home, shoved my blood covered coat in the washing machine and got him in the car. 

The vet was lovely, she gave him a good examination and concluded that he had a infestation of parasites, probably water parasites from being in the river in the summer, the normal wormer they give us doesn't cover this apparently. Ralph also has a filthy dirty habit of eating his own poop, so if it was parasites then the clever little bugger was recycling them too!!...we were given a prescription for some medicine that we had to syringe into him once a day for four days. For such a little dog it took three grown adults to hold him down and get the medicine into him!  Within a couple of days his coat had completely changed, its all soft and lighter in colour and his sparkly eyes are back. 

I tried to walk his favourite route again but he sat down and I had to carry him back again, the blood has got less and less, and we've had blood free poop's all weekend, so fingers crossed he is on the mend.

Poorly boy!

Feeling well enough to get his toys out!

He still doesn't want to walk very far, but at least he isn't expecting me to carry him!

Its funny, it was almost worse than having a poorly child, I can deal with sick children. But a dog is different, they don't cry and you feel so bloody helpless.

xx

cream cheese and jigsaw puzzles

Over the last two months I have written three blogs, none of which are suitable to be shared or published. Mostly because they are honest, brutally honest. 
So much has changed that I cant keep up with it all myself! the highs and lows are so extreme that the grey area in the middle is frustrating and all I can do is ride the storm.
If our lives were represented as big jigsaw puzzles I would say the someone has taken my puzzle and shock it so hard that all the pieces have gone flying high up into the sky, I cant reach them to pull them back down to repair my puzzle, I just have to wait until one piece falls, guess where it goes and hope the next piece fits one of the pieces that have already fallen down.
In fairness, like a volcano, my puzzle has been ready to erupt for sometime, since last September really and then a year down the line and BANG, a load of completely unrelated things happen and your organised, nicely predicable life is flying around in the sky and you are left wondering what the hell you do next.
You go to the Citizens advice, that's what you do, these people are worth their weight in gold, you take all your information in a folder, you turn up for your 20 minute appointment on the wrong day, but they don't mind, they see you anyway, two and a half hours later, you immerge with a plan and a list of 'to do' jobs as long as your arm! 
I have dutifully battled through my to do list in time for my next appointment, only to be given another one, also as long as my arm!
As I say things have changed and I am trying my hardest to remain calm but when you are sitting in the job centre with life's great unwashed, you wonder exactly what the terrible thing was that you did in a pervious life to deserve such crap. And I cant help wondering if I think I am more capable than I actually am, life has a way of making you feel incredibly small sometimes. 
The voice inside me is saying...things will get better, this time next week, this time next month, this time next year, whatever it will be, it wont be the same as it is now...ohhh for a peep into the future, or a lottery win, either will do.
On top of all this worry and decision making, I have started to see things. Now, I know this is fairly common with people who have sight loss, and at first, when I asked my daughter if the man walking in front of us had a dog and she looked a me like I had gone completely mad and said...Mum, there is no man, it was funny. But now its getting a bit annoying really and is starting to put me off going out on my own, yesterday I had to go into town on the train on my own, and I was moving out of the way for people that weren't there! This isn't a catch a shadow of a figure that might have been a person jobby, ohhh no, this is full on looking completely normal and alive people, they have hair and clothes on and everything, then I get closer to them, blink and they disappear! 
Or, I just dont see things, Daughter number two had asked for some of those marzipan Christmassy biscuit things you get from Lidl, so I find the Christmas isle, stand there looking for about five minutes, nope there definitely isn't any, so I walk away, get to the top of the isle and think, I will just check one more time and walk back down the isle, and boom, there the little devils are, a whole bloody shelf of them in fact!  Then it got worse, I left Lidl, did the job centre thing and then made my way up to M&S to meet daughter number one from work, when I got there I realised that I had completely misjudged the time and had an hour and a half to wait, so I went into M&S café, stood ages trying to figure out what the sandwiches had in them, picked up ham and cream cheese, dropped my piece of lemon drizzle cake as I missed the plate, luckily it landed n the table cloth so I quickly scooped it up and slapped it back on the plate and went to the till. 
Not until I was safely sat at my table for two tucked up in the corner did I feel safe. I fumbled around with the sandwich packet and released my lunch onto a plate, took a big bite of the sandwich and got the shock of my life ...salmon....bloody salmon and cream cheese!! I hate fish, but I was hungry and a old lady (who was real) was watching me, so I ate them, good job Marks seem to put more cream cheese in their sandwiches than Salmon. Having not written a blog for so long is making my eyes sore and giving me a head ache so I will be off for now, but I'll be back xx

Ironing

Seriously, does any-one else burn their iron? I mean I will keep trying to do my ironing as long as I can, but I have just brought my third iron this year!
Its definitely taking me longer to get through a pile of ironing, and I'm not as anal about it as I used to be, I was never one for ironing socks and nickers or anything like that, but I don't iron bed linen anymore or pj's, I just fold it nicely when it comes off the washing line and shove it straight into the airing cupboard. I tend to hold things up in front of me as I am going along and if it looks ok to me it doesn't get ironed...trouble is who am I to decide if it needs ironing or not? I cant tell half the time and then I am at risk of finding the item back in the washing bin!
Irons though, are generally not blind person friendly. That little dial thing in the middle which you move to get the right heat for the fabric you are ironing, I think this little dial thing may be where I am going wrong! I cant see it at all and tend to just wiggle it until I hear steam coming out of it or I hold my hand in front of the plate until I feel heat, not a very technical way of getting the heat right, and clearly the heat isn't right otherwise I wouldn't keep burning the plate! 
Then there's the place where you pour water into your iron, well, that's just a barrel of laughs too, I don't use those little plastic pots they give you with your new iron, they are just too fiddly and I always end up over filling, so I use a jug and end up over filling the iron anyway and the iron ends up sitting in a pool of water. I need a iron that doesn't have all the dials, knobs and twisty turny things but then steam irons wouldn't work if they didn't have all those things so it seems I am destined to buy at least five irons a year, the one I had at the beginning of the year kept getting magically cleaned every time my mum came for a visit, but eventually it became beyond even her iron cleaning abilities, so I brought one of these really cheap ones, I think it cost £6, but it was crap, it was so light to handle I kept knocking it over and it ended up looking like this....

The one I brought yesterday looks like this..for now!

I had one of those entertaining bus journeys yesterday on my way into town to buy a iron. As you know Mum lives down the village from me, its about six bus stops away, so I get on at the stop near me and just hope she has got to her stop before the bus arrived. We did go through a stage during the winter last year where I would go and stand at the bus stop and then when the bus came I would ring her to tell her the bus was on the way, but this didn't work as her phone was either off or she couldn't find it in her bag.

So anyway, yesterday, there we are, I am standing at my bus stop and she is sitting at hers, the minutes ticked by and twenty minutes after its due time I concluded that the bus wasn't coming so I walked to Mums bus stop and we simply caught the next bus.

There we sat on a slightly busier than usual bus, but the oldies we less than happy, there was so much tutting and huffing going on I was wondering if they were about to turn into a load of bulls.

All this moaning triggered the old lady sitting beside me and she was off.....I've been waiting an hour for this bus...so I rolled my eyes and ignored her, then she taps me on the shoulder and asks if I had been waiting too, so I said yes....somewhere in her old lady mind she had mistakenly seen my answer as a green light to explode into a torrent of slagging the bus driver off...its DISCUSTING...not wanting the bus driver, who could hear her very loud voice, to think I was agreeing with her, I said..no, not really.

She stopped moaning, leaned forward in my face and said..what do you mean? This is the second time in a week that the bus hasn't turned up....so I lent forward and said...I don't suppose they do it on purpose, they don't stand outside their bus with their mates and say..ahh bugger it, I cant be arsed with this lets go down the pub, there will be a reason the bus didn't turn up.

Well, I have to go into town!!….So, I said, Ohhh did you have an appointment? ...NO, I need to get bread from the bakers.....I didn't really trust myself to open my mouth so I bit down hard on my tongue until I thought it was going to pop.

Again, she saw my silence as a excuse to give me more crap, leaning forward again she whispers..well, last week one of the Indian drivers tried to steal my purse!! I wanted to get the hell off the bus but the next stop was too far for Mum to walk into town. Instead, I put my hand up in her face to stop her talking. I know the exact driver she is talking about, He is a bit grumpy, but Hellloooo, look at the crap they have to put up with and there is no-way he would have tried to steal her purse, what was he going to do? Leap out of the tiny window and run off up the street with her purse tucked under his arm?

So, I said, If you act negatively you will receive negativity, that's the problem these days, the bus drivers are human, and they cant stop the bus breaking down, an accident or road works on their route. If you wanted a personal service you should have booked a taxi 

Ahhh well, that shut her up for all about twenty seconds and then she proceeded to tell me all about an incident last week where the alarm was going off on the bus and the police were called and it was really terrible for all the people on the bus, apparently they were all sitting outside Sainsburys for 45 minutes, its sooo disgusting....

WAIT!! You weren't on the bus?...Noooo my daughter came to visit that day so I missed it!!!

That was it, I rang the bell and Mum and I thanked the bus driver, wished him well, got off and walked the rest of the way to town.

If nothing else that half hour bus ride made me forget all about burning my iron. 

xx

If only things were different

I am sure just about everyone at some point during their lives has had a moment when they have thought...What if things had been different...
I have been struggling a bit this week, probably because I have spent a lot of time on my own, but also because I force myself not to think of what will happen in the future, and then when I get times when I am feeling down and struggle to keep focused I tend to think back to the past. 
I have spent a lot of time wondering what life would have been like if I had normal sight. I even spent a whole afternoon making a imaginary life in my head. Like, I would be able to drive, and work full time. I would be able to just go out and meet friends with out having to plan the whole outing meticulously. I was imagining that I was able to run, cycle and join the gym and not worry about over exercising because the only harm it would do would be in my muscles and not strain my eyes and put pressure on them. God, I miss cycling so much, I mean proper cycling, like belting along, weaving between moving cars and trying to beat my record time for getting to work, I miss those frosty mornings when all the fallen leaves scrunch under your wheels and its so cold your eye lashes freeze. What sort of car would I have? and what sort of a driver would I be? I closed my eyes and imagined packing up the car and driving off to Suffolk with the girls and Ralph to visit our friends, and hell...what about just noticing that I am nearly out of milk and I could just hop in the car and drive to a shop instead of having to catch a bus, a train or walk, I know there's nothing wrong with walking but when you only decent shop is three miles away, a six mile round trip for a pint of milk is a bit excessive. 
I feel like a sighted person trapped in a visually impaired persons body and it bloody well sucks! I want to be able to replace that light-bulb and I want to notice someone has dropped tomato ketchup all down the kitchen cupboard door. I want to be able to write a shopping list then actually be able to read it when I finally get to a shop.
I am fully aware that this is not a good state of mind to be in, but some times life is just not fair. What did I do for this to happen? Its so hard to stay level headed sometimes, when you just want to scream and punch something. 
But back to the day dreaming, I think its easy to accept that things are just the way they are and there's nothing wrong with a little day dreaming, and at first it was fun, I had envisioned me driving to work, which parking space I would use, then I would do all the things I used to do, but better because I would be so much more confident and wise, then at the end of the day..yes I would go along to the pub for a coke with my work mates, then I would jump in the car, pop to the shop on the way home and then get home and do all the things a working Mum does and then walk Ralph on a route that I am NOT familiar with, instead of being delivered to work via taxi, working for four and a bit hours, getting the same taxi to deliver me home, and then having to sleep for the next three hours because the morning has exhausted me. 
Then there was this thing which happened to me earlier this week. Daughter number 2 and I were walking down the village, we were linked arms and she was practising describing my surroundings to me and I was practising listening. As we walked along I could hear a digger and she began to tell me where it was because loud sounds can be distorted and its hard to determine where they are coming from sometimes. The next thing this male voice shouts...Hello love, aren't you going to speak to me today?...I had no bloody idea at all who he was, He was seated high up in the digger so I couldn't hear or recognise his voice over the engine..so I said, sorry, I cant make out who you are..(I felt like a right twat) ..So he turns off the engine and says''its me!...seriously for gwads sake man, I still have no idea who you are...there was this awkward silence and then he says...you walk past my house very day and I always put me hand up from the window...OHHHHHH YESSSS OF COURSE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE NOW!!!!  oh, well lovely to see you...and we walk away, Daughter number 2 looks at me with this crooked grin and says...you haven't got a clue who he is have you Mum? So now I have a mixture of emotions, I feel ashamed that I didn't have the bottle to tell him that I cant see him in the window, I feel stupid and awful that I never put my hand up to return his 'hello' and I feel this strange emotion that I am almost tricking him because he thinks I am 'normal' and I am just not!!
I am also struggling with the beloved Facebook, because everyone is doing such lovely things and going to cool places. I used to be able to do these things, but I don't, I do safe things and that is just not the real me, I want to take risks again and I want to pack my days full of seeing things.
Then I realised that this day dreaming was getting kind of dangerous and it was spiralling me down into a deep uncomfortable place and now I feel like the old pilot light on my gas fire, the flame keeps lighting and it desperately tries to say on but it flickers out after a few seconds, now I have to focus on lighting my flame and keeping the thing going because I don't want to be in the dark. 
That was all it took, a little day dreaming to change my train of thoughts, we are such delicate beings, and its important to keep a focus, I do wish my life could have taken a different road but then would I have met the people I have? would I be the person I am? I think I was sent along this road for a reason, I don't quite know what that reason is but I expect the answer will creep up on me and suddenly everything will make sense, so until then, day dreaming will take a back seat. We are what we are, there's no changing that so I will try to be more open and honest with this not being able to see thing, hold my head up high, treasure what I have had and look forward to the future xx 

Prove you're not a robot...

Seriously??? I cant be the only person in the world who finds it incredibly difficult to prove I am not a bloody robot! Twice today I have had to get someone else to prove I am human..so what's the bloody point?  All I wanted to do was to log into my Lottery account and buy a ticket for tonight (things are getting desperate here!) and even though it has all my personal details including my bra size and my favourite colour pants, it STILL wanted me to find and tick the lamp posts in a photograph that had been sectioned up, if you get it wrong then...beeep...no entry. Well, as I cant see any bloody lamp posts I had to ask for help, which never comes quick enough for me and I end up in a foul temper because I cant buy a lottery ticket in case I am not real, but my bank card can be cloned and you can empty my bank account in seconds!
So, then I had to complete an application form on line, its taken me three bloody hours to fill this thing in, then just when I think I'm done I press submit and BANG...prove you are not a robot and tick the boxes that have birds in it!!! Birds...for Christ's sake (sorry Christ) I cant see any birds... and what's more I have managed to piss off my whole family who have gone out so there is no-one to help me find the stupid birds so I had to wait for them to return by which time the dam thing had expired!!
Its been a bit of a trying week really. I seem to have got into the horrible pattern of dropping my contact lens when I am taking then out or putting them in, and its always the 'good eye' that I loose so I have no chance of finding it myself. 
I have this green deep pile carpet in my bedroom and the other morning Ralph wakes me up to tell me he needs to go outside at 5.30am, so I know he needs a poo and if I don't put my contacts in I will never be able to see his poo to pick it up and then the little sod will eat it, I don't know why he does that, its revolting. So not wanting to wake the girls up I whisper to him that I am just going to pop in my lenses and then we'll go to the garden. 
I had the little hard lens balanced on my finger tip, other hand holding up my eye lid, and just as I got the thing near my eye it fell of my finger tip...GONE...I heard it ping off, and I know I cant move so I use a quiet voice to call the eldest daughter in the bedroom next door...nothing...try a little louder voice....nothing....try 'outside' voice....still nothing...so I find my phone on the bedside draws and ring her, that wasn't as easy as it sounds and luckily I have my phone adapted so the most used numbers are on the home page so I just click it.  
I recon I must have called her phone twenty-five times before a sleepy voice replied, Ralph was crying with need to go to the garden and I was massively frustrated at the total inability to find the dam thing myself. 
The daughter walks in and grunts, walks along side the bed and as far as I know doesn't really open her eyes, just leans down and picks up my contact lens from the carpet, dumps it in my hand, grunts again and goes back to bed. I mean charming!
So, once the lens was cleaned and I could see again Ralph and I went to the garden, where he cocks his leg up my washing line, takes a wee and trots back in, goes upstairs and snuggles back on my bed, no poo insight, stupid dog! So there I am, at 6.15am wide awake now, I end up cracking on with all the Mumsy things we mums do as soon as we get up, this mostly involves putting away your kids crap from the night before...believe me you mummies, little people don't get any tidier as they turn into big people...all this meant I was exhausted by 11,30 and needed a nap but the thought of taking out my contacts again was too much, so I kept busy.
Since then I have lost that same lens three more times! 
Maybe its due to the very hot dry weather we have been having, weather does strange things to contact lenses, I seemed to spend most of spring taking them out several times a day to clean off all the gunk that hay fever makes your eyes produce, I have never really suffered from hay fever, but this year has been horrible for it. Then the glorious long, hot summer days make them dry out quickly and air conditioning is the worst thing for a contact lens wearer. Today we've had torrential rain, as the wet stuff dripped off my eye lashes into my eyes, my contacts become sort of cloudy.
As much as I love summer I cant help having massive excitement for Autumn, all those different smells, cold mornings and warm afternoons, all trees changing colours. Autumn always gives me a feeling of contentment. 
Anyway, I have two more BBC Proms to go, on this Monday and the other next Monday. I have a change of partner next week as my friend is coming with me instead of Mum, I would like to say my friend and I are less likely to have any disasters, but who am I kidding, my friend and I are a worse pair than Mum and I.
Well, with all my thoughts of Autumn and Proms, I have forgotten about robots, and that's exactly why I write a blog...once whatever is on your mind goes from you brain to paper, even if no-one ever reads it, for some reason, things just don't seem so bad...sharing is caring, right? 
Speak soon and look out on the news for my smelly feet at the BBC Proms xx

Feeling the environment

Just lately I've noticed that I feel the need to touch things!! 
My friends have apparently noticed that I have been doing this for sometime. I'm not talking about anything rude of course, although I have looked at the occasional bearded bloke and wondered how it would feel, but that normal surely? 
I think it started when I was feeling like I was going to have a panic attack, as the place they happen most often is in the supermarket, as soon as I started getting a bit anxious I would feel my way along the shelves. That sounds like I am walking along gripping onto the selves for stability but I mean just running my fingers along walls or along shelves so that I know that my fingers, for example are feeling tins, then I know without looking that I am in the baked beans, tinned tomato area, and then packet rice usually comes next. Of course, this has to be in a familiar supermarket, which is why it doesn't help when supermarket chains decide to move things around. Also if I am feeling my way along, my sense of smell becomes better, I don't know why, but there's flowers, which are usually by fresh meat, fresh meat has its own smell which leads to cheese, no need to tell you that cheese smells. The household isles have smells, as does the baby isle, bread and fish counters. so that usually means if you are down an isle without a smell you got to be down the tinned food isle, dried pasta or rice, biscuits or drinks. But then noises help to identify which isle you are in, crisp packets make noise as do clinking bottles. 
Anyway, I'm taking you around my local Asda,  back to what I was talking about, so, yes I sort of know I have been running my fingers along walls when I am out, feeling the textures on leaves and I found myself feeling the lettering on a plaque on the wall of a bridge the other day. If I see anything, tactile or not, I just gotta feel it.
So, now this seems to have turned from a way of dealing with the stressful anxiety of a panic attack to a sensory tactile need to feel different things and textures. Maybe this is because I am seeing less well, so I feel instead of seeing!  
When we were in the Natural History museum two weeks ago, I was walking around the minerals, now, I've always loved this area of the museum, I just love a stone! Anyway, this nearly killed me this time because the urge to lift the lids on the cabinets and feel each stone was almost too much to bear, luckily there were some stones and minerals that we were allowed to feel so I was happy for a while. The trouble is as I walked around I became more and more aware of the need to touch every exhibit. I found myself stealing a quick touch of a tapestry, and standing for ages feeling the animal shapes that are crafted into the walls of the Natural History. 
I really do understand why there are big DO NOT TOUCH signs everywhere, but I just cant help it, I need to feel it to understand it. I need to touch because walking around a museum doesn't mean anything. I spend so much time concentrating on where I am going and not taking little kids out with my cane that I miss so much that it becomes meaningless. That is until there is something I can touch, and when I am touching, people seem to respect me a bit more. No, respect isn't quite the right word, but empathy I suppose. People seem to give me more space to feel than they do if I am walking around exhibits.
I wish museums were a bit more clued up for people with special or additional needs, I think they stick a ramp in and a disabled toilet then suddenly they are disability friendly, I would love a smaller, quieter area where I could explore more of the exhibits that are ok to feel instead of sneaking around trying to cop a feel of a statue when there's some little kid going Mummmm that sign says DO NOT TOUCH but that lady's touching it ...bog off little kid and go grass your brother up for picking his nose.
Anyway, the need to feel does worry me slightly, Is this part of the process? does every person that has a visual impairment 'feel' their environment. 
I notice textures more too, today we were at a private swimming pool and the minute I walked onto the tiles around the pool I could feel that they were made from (or had a coating of) some sort of gritty non-slip stuff, the rest of the family didn't notice. At dinner we sat at a wooden table that had a painted pattern on it I kept feeling the groves of the wood with my finger tips, everyone else thought it was a table cloth! I suppose I see things so much differently than they do, I notice more because I have to look for it, if you know what I mean!
Now, I cant remember what else I was going to say and I have just had a quick look at my note book and realised I have written my notes too small for me to read.....mind you, that's another subject for conversation...the importance of making sure I do things, and do them regularly. Since the school holidays have started, a week and a half ago, I haven't been writing as regularly as I do when I am at school, today I noticed that I am loosing that skill again, its alarming how quickly a skill as easy as holding and moving a pen on paper to make words can be lost, this is the same for the confidence to do things on my own, I am happy to avoid doing things alone and really have to push myself to walk Ralph on my own just lately. Especially after this morning when I tripped over him as he is the same colour as the dead grass and I just didn't see him. He yelped as I went flying over onto my knees, I apologised to him but he spent the rest of the walk home looking at me like I was a complete nuisance and then stomped off in front like a moody teenager as soon as I put him back on his lead. First thing tomorrow I am going to practice writing again and make sure I keep it up. Right, off to bed, Speak soon x

See what I mean? Now you see him.....now you don't!

Talking to a blind man

As I've mentioned may times before my friend and I have started going to disabled swim at our local (indoor, because I'm a wimp) pool. Within twelve months I have gone from a very poor, verging on non-swimmer to a fairly regular but very proud thirty full lengths in about an hour. The life guards are always really happy to help and put a separate lane in for me and my friend. The trouble is we seem to have stumbled in on a disabled 'click' group. So the first week we went there was already a lane set up on the opposite side of the pool away from all the other disabled swimmers, this seemed perfect as I cant see on comers and am unable to manage unpredictability in other humans when I'm in the water. So, the life guards were happy for me and my mate to take this lane so we cracked on and managed about eight lengths. Disabled swim is from 6pm until 7pm and that particular week we did more chatting than swimming. Anyway, we did attract a lot of interest from the other swimmers but no-one really approached us or said hello. I'm actually happy with that, I go to swim when I know its safe, if I want to chat I'll go join the queue at the post office, besides my friend and I had already wasted enough time chin wagging. 

The following week was a bit different, the lane was set up again and as we went to use it, a couple of lady swimmers barked at us that 'David was coming' so I couldn't use that lane. Again, the life guards had no problems popping in another lane and all seemed good. David was guided in by another life guard who took his cane at the poolside and helped him in. Once in the water he was like a local celebrity, all these women clucking around him like hens. This man seemed very polite and chatted to everyone, then he was off. I swear if you saw this man in the water you would never know he was blind, he swam up and down the lane like a fish and covered our ten lengths which had taken us nearly an hour in about three minutes. The next few weeks we found that the ladies, as soon as they saw us, would start talking loudly amongst themselves about whether or not David was coming. To me, this definitely felt like a warning directed to me and my mate to keep out of the 'blind mans lane'. Of course I have absolutely no problem with not being in that particular lane especially as there is no problem getting one put in for us, but I do have a problem with people thinking I am invisible and deaf! These women are crazily so over protective of this man that it is verging on the side of discrimination. I, although I am also blind, do not deserve to swim in the lane which has the pool edge. In fact if its a safety issue, we would be safer if we swapped lanes because he swims so quickly he often hits his hand on the wall, whereas I can only manage breast stroke...slowly, very, very slowly. 

So, like I said, this went on for a few weeks until the week before last when one of the women swam beside me and said...I've been watching you and you are definitely getting quicker, well done. keep going!!! And there it was  TADARRRR...ACCEPTANCE.. into the disabled swim!!

This week we were greeted with Hello's and smiles. I was allowed to swim in David's lane with out any comment, and when my mate saw him arriving, we simply moved over and the life guard popped a lane in. 

I haven't really spoken to this blind man named David swimming in the lane beside me, we've exchanged pleasantries and introduced ourselves but not really chatted. So, at the end of our respectable thirty lengths, I thought I would have a chat. Well, bugger me if this bloke is not only amazing but he certainly does not need clucking or protecting from anyone. It was lovely to talk to someone who truly understands what I mean. He is clearly a very clever man and does lots of work in art galleries and museums. He was also very genuinely interested in what I had to say, my poor friend was standing in the shallow end of the pool with us as David and I chatted 'blind talk' and I think she felt a bit like the third wheel as we talked about things which she as a sighted person perhaps doesn't always notice or understand. I could feel my passion and need for clarification and acknowledgement of all the seemingly little things that I struggle with everyday rising to the surface, it also has made me aware of the importance of talking to people with similar conditions, and it has made me realise just how lonely this whole sight impairment world can be, and how easy it is to stop talking about it and just try to fit into the sighted world because its easier just to keep quiet and get on with it, but that's not real and that is no longer how my life rolls so why am I trying to make out I am coping and that I can do things that I cant? Maybe for the fear of feeling weak or insignificant I don't know, what I do know is I am looking forward to next weeks swim. 

Speak soon xx

2nd Proms Night

Well, completely hypocritical I know, but the rain came yesterday afternoon, and I couldn't help feeling happy about it. Mind you, it was a bit of a shock at first...it was so hot yesterday afternoon, too hot inside even with the fan on and outside it was baking, but about 4pm I noticed that the trees were moving a little so I took myself out into the shade and relaxed on my rocking garden chair. I recon I was laid there with a slight breeze for all about thirty seconds before I had fallen sound asleep. Just over an hour later the clouds must have thickened and apparently there was a distant rumble of thunder...all this was unbeknown to me, happily snoring away until the ear splitting crack of thunder over my head and the first massive drops of rain splashed on my face causing me to leap out of the chair like my backside had been burnt. Ralph was already shaking and cowering at the back of his crate and my two delightful daughters found it hilarious and amazing that at my age I can move that fast! Bloody cheek! 

The sky continued to rumble, flash and rain for the rest of the night until about 8am when the sun came out so Ralph and I went for a walk, the air smelt lovely and fresh, all you people who Camp will know that smell, there's nothing quite like the smells you experience when you are camping. 

Anyway, that's not what I was going to say to you, I was going to tell you about my second Proms night. On Tuesday Mum and I went to see Sibelius, Schubert and Zimmermann, we were sitting in the front two seats of the box so we had a amazing view of the stage. This was a completely different atmosphere to the first concert we saw, everyone was very excited and happy there was a real buzz in the air.

This building is so bloody beautiful, it doesn't matter how many times I come here I am always struck by its glamour.

More Prommers! During the interval they all do this speech together, called the arena to audience shout announcing that they will be outside at the end of the concert collecting donations for Charities, I am sure they said the public had already donated over £14.000. 

And this is where my favourite group of people sit in the orchestra. See those two pianos? Just one guy was playing them...one guy! He kept leaping from one to the other mid song and just managing to park his bum on the seat before he had to start playing. 

My real hero is the guy who sits at the back playing percussion, So there he sits with his arms folded and his head lowered looking a lot like he is bored to death and has fallen asleep The rest of the orchestra are producing this incredible music, when all of a sudden the guy is up and at his instrument, the man is so fast you almost don't see the transition from looking like he is in a comatose state to being fully alert and ready to add his very valuable contribution to the piece. To me, this is a man who really knows his shit. I don't think its a natural thing for a man to look like he isn't listening when actually he is, and believe me, this guy had to be listening because there was this even bigger guy standing at the front waving his special stick about and my god, the man didn't look the type who would be happy if you cocked up on his watch. 

Classical music isn't really my thing, I am more of a ZZ Top/Guns and Roses/Bon Jovi with a large splash of Sex Pistols and a sprinkling of Pink Floyd type of gal BUT there is something so amazing about following a musical story, even when you don't understand what the hell is going on, you are still struck by so much emotion that not many types of music can produce. For example...Elizabeth Watts...Soprano...holy crap, I have never heard a voice quite like it. I found myself wondering what it would be like living next door to her, that woman has one incredibly loud and enchanting voice. 

Of course at all times I try to behave like a sophisticated lady, so when we got to our box at the beginning of the evening while there was no-one else in the box I fumbled around in my handbag a found a little bottle of perfume, Mum watched me in horror as I removed my shoes and my sweaty socks, rubbed my feet on the thick carpet (that's more a sensory thing..honest) and then put my bare feet up on the side of the box while I sprayed perfume on them to mask the nasty smell that was coming from them My little black dress had ridden up but I was so happy to be cool, cool as in not hot that is. Then I get this sharp elbow in my ribs and through gritted teeth Mum says...GET YOUR BLOODY FEET DOWN AND STOP SHOWING YOU NICKERS...YOU DO REALISE WE ARE LIVE ON BBC2?

To be honest there has been much worse shown on BBC2 but I was at the Proms in the Royal Albert Hall and I expect Queen Vicky would have been right hacked off to see my feet all over her carpet so I adjusted myself and made out I was a lady for the rest of the evening..although I kept my shoes off until the end of the second half.

I am so very glad I have experienced BBC Proms, its an entirely carefree different world, people come from all walks of life and they are all welcomed it really has restored my faith in human nature, of course the tube is a different matter there is absolutely nothing human about travelling on the tube at all and when this Chinese fella thought he could push me and my cane out of the way so he could get on before me he was very wrong and I hope his ankles still hurt! 

Any way I think you can check out my Proms review and all the others on their RNIB Connect webpage if not google me (Lynda Daddario) and apparently it shows all the reviews on there too.

Sleep Well x

weather whingers

Back again!!.. and already this first week of the six weeks summer holiday has whisked by. I was just reading a article written by Janet Street-Porter about how this country is falling to bits over some heat, how many people just don't seem to have any common sense when it comes to coping with weather which isn't the usual pouring with rain, grey and wind that we are used to but also how people, like the Met Office, use phases like 'stay safe' while telling us about soring temperatures. Non dog owners spend a lot of time criticise dog owners for walking their dogs in the heat, I even saw on Facebook that someone approached a blind man with his guide dog to give him a stern telling off for bringing his doggie out...what's the guy supposed to do? Sit at home and wait for the weather to pass! I'm sure his boss would have loved that. So while I wondered around town today (without a plastic bottle of water) I pondered on how many people have had a go at parents for bringing their tiny screaming babies out in the heat of the day...I also wondered how other countries cope? Australia for example, do they need constant instructions on how to look after themselves during their summer? of course they don't. And what about a bit of snow in this country, it sends everyone on high alert. I recon as a country, the British are a nation of weather whingers. 
Upstairs laying on her bed with the blinds down and the fan on is the youngest daughter who is suffering from heat stroke...I don't have a lot of sympathy I'm afraid because yesterday she laid around on the sofa doing bugger all and then went into town in temperatures above 35 degrees, but it didn't occur to her to put fluid back into to her body to replace what she was sweating out, so now we are a dying duck and have a stinking head ache as well as a upset tummy lesson learnt though I hope.
Thinking back to my childhood summers, we rarely used sunscreen and if we did it was the cheapest Mum could find, when there's three little bodies to cover a bottle of sunscreen lasts two days. We used to build a den in the corn field behind our house and played in it all summer until the farmer cut the corn. We came home filthy every day, and we always took a massive bottle of drink with us and we all drank out of that same bottle. Sunny days were fun days, we used to go running back to the little shed in our garden where the chest freezer was kept and help ourselves to a Choc-ice or ice-pops, at night we slept with just our nickers on and the window wide open, this was normal. These days people frown if you dare suggest that you child is allowed to take their clothes off because you never know who is looking, you cant sleep with the windows open because a bug might come in and bite you while you are sleeping and then you might have a reaction and die!
We used to sit at the edge of the river and dangle our feet in to cool ourselves off, we knew better than to jump in because our parents had showed us where is safe and where isn't, and the part of the river which passed our house wasn't safe for swimming.. so we didn't do it, simple.
We didn't need mobile phones because we were home when we were told we should be. I wouldn't want to be a child these days, I couldn't be arsed with keeping up with the dress code or vocabulary. Social media meant shouting to your mate over the fence or writing notes to the boy you fancied and leaving it in his part of the corn field where he and his mates had made their own den. 
Don't get me wrong, my childhood wasn't all singing and dancing, I remember rolling around in the corn and falling straight into a ditch of stinging nettles, I remember running for my life the day I got hold of my Dad's paint compressor and re-sprayed the car that was sitting in his garage. Then there was the day my younger sister and I held my middle sister down and shaved half her hair off....and then of course there was the unforgettable day the cat came home covered in concrete and Mum had gone to work leaving me in charge, there was no scene quite like the one of me and my two sisters trying to catch this bloody cat and then get him in the bath, and what's more he was a cranky bloody cat who didn't want a bath thankyou very much and I recon I still got the scars to prove it.
I'm with Janet, She refers to Nany-state panic and this is because we don't seem to have a mind of our own anymore, everything is too dangerous and every activity comes with a 'warning'  she says that one Met Office nerd was handing out totally unnecessary advise- wear sunglasses...wear a wide brimmed hat and use sun cream...ohhhh and don't go out in the sun between 11am and 3pm.
I mean..what? Every news channel is crammed with how the heat is having a domed effect on the farmers and their crops....come on people its two bloody months and in my area of the country its only been REALLY hot this last few days. Just you wait, tomorrow when the thunder storms and heavy rain starts we will be moaning again and receiving warnings and advice on how to cope with wet weather and the best ways not to be struck by lightening.
For me though, in my tiny little world, I will be happy to see the green grass again...mostly because my little pooch blends in with the ground and I cant see him!