Grannymar

The day was calm, dry and the sun shone warming my bones and casting shadows.  The speed limit is 30 miles per hour but at that moment there were no moving vehicles, the only sound came from high in the trees and I was enjoying the winged choir.  A smooth clean and level path was a welcome addition.

It is a road well known to me so I am aware of the hazards…. Irresponsible dog owners who regularly ignore the signs to use a poop scoop, leaving me to dodge around the mess!  Facing traffic hurtling around that bend at break neck speed far to busy to obey the rules of the road.  If they were not enough hazards to contend with, add in the over hanging branches.

I am 5′6″ and the photo was taken with the viewfinder to my eye and not looking through the larger screen.  If you travel back along the lowest branch on the left hand side to a bright patch under a cone, that is my eye level.  I need to bend my head to my chest in order to pass underneath, or step into the road and oncoming traffic (we drive on the left hand side of the road).

This is one of many trees overhanging this wall.  The gardens on the other side of the wall are at a much higher level.  In wet and windy winter weather it is more hazardous.  Our days are shorter, darker and mostly wet.  As the branches wave and trash about weighed down with water they are capable of knocking off glasses, causing facial injury or in an extreme case causing the loss of an eye.

There are electricity cables running above the level of the wall.  At least every two years the Northern Ireland Electricity demand that the upper branches are cut back from the path of the wires.  Pedestrians are not catered for at all.  I have in the past approached the local council on my own behalf and behalf of others who walk along this way, but they do nothing.

Neighbourhood watch in these parts is of the squinting window variety, The people watch plenty, but when asked they have seen nothing!

Am I within my rights to bring clippers and cut the offending branches or to approach the house owners (more than one), or will it antagonize them into further non-action?

Tuesday was a busy day and I was away from home for several hours.  My last port of call was the supermarket.  Time to replenish my store cupboard and stock up on dry goods.  Supermarket shopping is very tiring… I handled each and every item SIX times before I even thought of cooking anything.  Think about it!

1. Put the items in the trolley
2. Lift onto the conveyor belt
3. Put back into the trolley
4. Lift into car
5. Lift out of car
6. Pack away in cupboards

By the time all that was done and I had a very late lunch, it was time for a rest.  Feet up for half an hour followed by a tour of the world on the blogs and I was ready to sort out the ironing.  A couple of long distance chats and a phone call or three later and my tummy called for dinner.

Crossing the living floor about 8pm I wondered if I had put the car away.  Stepping out the front door the car was patiently waiting. Tapping my jeans pocket I was happy to pull the door behind me, no need to give any local cats or mice an invitation to investigate inside.

My hand was just about inside my pocket as the door clicked shut.  The bulk in my pocket was from a bundle of clothes pegs and not my keys!  So there was I standing in the garden looking at my car.  The front door was SHUT and all the windows were closed!

Disaster I hear you shriek!

Not at all.  I am well prepared.  I keep a key buried in the garden.  No it is not under the mat, a flowerpot or a stone,  I have no intention of telling the world where it is.  I keep it well protected from the elements and I remember where it is.

So I recovered the spare key and went to the back door.  WHAAAA!  I had the correct key but it would not work.

Why?

When you lock the back door from the inside I suggest you then remove the key!

Dangling from the inside were my bunch of keys.

My back door leads out into a north facing garden.  There are a few flagged steps to drop down to the level of the patio.  In winter the frost seldom leaves the garden so I do not open that door for the duration.  Were I to fall in the back garden I would lie there preserved until springtime!  I access the garage and the various bins from the front door.  With the return of the better weather I began to open the back door and use the outdoor line to dry my washing.

On Tuesday when I carried in the dry clothes for ironing, I turned the key and left it hanging from the lock.  Why?  The phone was ringing.  Well you never know it might be a toyboy! :roll:  It was a gentleman and he asked if he could speak to JOE.

Quick as lightening I said “No, I am sorry, you cannot speak to Joe!”

“Why?” asked the caller.

“Because he is in the wardrobe!” I said and hung up quickly.  Come on, when you live alone you need some fun!

So there I was locked out of my house and not a toyboy in sight.  Tobias was sitting inside on the table with pings and dings all over the shop.  The car was unlocked so I sat into it, to gather my thoughts and sort out my options.  There was no car at the house opposite but perhaps one of the young couple would be there.  All I needed was a metal coat hanger.  I knew it would work.  Three years previously it cost me £83 to learn that much.  I had locked myself out once before.  On that occasion I had to call a Locksmith.  That was before I buried the spare key.  I watched closely how he solved the problem, I would never be stuck again.  Well I would not be stuck so long as I had a metal coat hanger.

No joy at the young couples house, they were out for the evening.  Who would I turn to next.  Which household would have a metal clothes hanger.  Which neighbour would help without causing a fuss or add stress to the situation.  Which neighbour would I approach and ask ” Do you have a metal coat hanger, I want it to break into my house?

I made my choice.   This couple were home.  The lady of the house found me a metal hanger.  She called her husband in from the garden shed.  She would not let me go home alone with the metal coat hanger in case I had more problems.  The husband would not let me go home alone with a metal coat hanger because he was curious to know how I would break into my own house.

So I walked back home with another woman’s husband and a metal coat hanger!  This woman’s husband told me he is due to retire at the end of next month.  Retire!  I have just trained him for a new profession

No!  I am not going to tell the whole of the internet how I broke into my own house with a metal coat hanger.  If you want to know, it will cost you £83.

On Thursday morning I woke suddenly.  I quickly realised it was early, very, very early, because the sound of heavy sleeping reached me through two closed doors.  The uncomfortable feeling of a vice around my chest was familiar and I knew how to deal with it.  I used my spray and propped myself up on the pillows.  Lying back I listened as the world about me came to life.  A dog barking in the distance, a door & gate closing outside followed by a car engine turning over.

Waiting ten minutes I used the spray for the second time.  Slowly the tightness eased and as the veins opened I developed the usual headache - a good sign - the spray was working!  No need to call for help.  Staying quiet and calm was the correct method of dealing with this situation.  It would pass and I would travel home as planned, even if an hour or two later in the day.  I had my own set of keys, so all I had to do was lock up and go.

Elly came into the room when she got up and offered to bring me breakfast in bed, I accepted her offer.  She sat on the bed & chatted for a few minutes before going to work while I ate my cereal and took my tablets.  We hugged and said our farewells and off she went to an early meeting.

At 9am a wave of exhaustion swept over me, again a familiar feeling.  I decided to give in and snooze for an hour.  Sleep took over and the next thing I knew it was 2.30 in the afternoon.  I had actually slept for longer than I do at a stretch on any night.  I texted Elly to let her know I was still in Dublin and not traveling.  Again she was at a meeting so her reply was an acknowledgment of my message.

Elly arrived home at her normal time of 7pm.  I was back in bed again my then yawning my head off, and I saw the worry in her face when she came into the room.  “Why did you not tell me?” She asked, as did George an hour later when he came home.  Had I told them they would both have stayed home and missed a days work.  There was no need for that this time.  Save the days for when I really need help.

The strange thing about Thursday afternoon was I woke from a dream.  I seldom dream, or if I do, I don’t recall them.  This one was very vivid.  I was in Dundrum (Dublin).  I know Dundrum very well, one of my siblings lives there.  The Dundrum of my dreams bore no resemblance to the place where they live.

I was walking on a pavement along an underpass facing the oncoming traffic.  There were two cars approaching.  The first I saw in great detail.  It was black and small like a mini.  Inside were two white haired ladies traveling at speed, far too fast for the road ahead.  I had two folded supermarket bags in my hand and waved them in the ’slow down’ motion.  I vividly remember the driver turning to look at me like I was crazy.  I must have turned and followed the movement of the car because I saw it hit the pavement, somersault and when it had righted the roof was gone and two naked torsos were visible with torn clothes and plenty of blood.

I pulled my mobile from my pocket and called 999.

With that I woke up!

Darragh had a very sweet post yesterday about elopement.

I once left home.

I didn’t elope.

I accidently split my little brother’s head open with a garden hoe.

While mammy took him to Temple Street Children’s Hospital, in Dublin; I packed my bag and went next door and asked our neighbour if I could live in her house! She has now moved on to the next life and I am sure she is still laughing!

That same little brother got fed up with living at home, and who could blame him? He announced one day that he was running away, when asked where he would go; he said “I’m going to get the 72 Bus!”

Very ambitious family we were…. The 72 bus only went to Oxmantown Road.

He did eventually move away. He made sure the hoe could not reach him.

Little brother now lives in Melbourne, Australia!

In August 2005 I fell and broke my right wrist, or should that be the wrong one, since I am right handed! It was certainly a learning experience for me, but it could have been much worse. Another four inches to the right and I might have split my skull on the edge of a flagstone step or broken my spectacles and ended up with an eye full of broken glass.

It was a bright summer day and I fell in the back garden as I was collecting my washing from the clothesline. For once I was wearing a skirt – bad idea since it had no pockets. I am sure I blacked out for a moment and came too as I approached the ground because I landed on both hands. There was no mark on my shoes so I know that I didn’t trip. I have the habit of un-pegging a couple of items from the line before bending to put them in the linen basket on the ground. The sudden movement of my head down and then up again may have been the cause.

Now the first rule of falling is NOT to jump up! The shock of a tumble can hide the pain of injury. Knowing this I rolled over on to the grass after a minute or two. I lay for a few moments and then sat up slowly. Nobody came to my aid, but then nobody knew I was there. If something serious happened I could lie there for days. I live in a frost pocket and for this reason I never use my back door in wintertime. This was summertime and I was wearing a skirt with no pockets. No pockets meant my mobile/cell phone was sitting on my dining table and my GTN spray was keeping it company. That was the end of skirts for me I resolved to only wear trousers with pockets from then on. That way I would have the spray and phone with me at all times.

I was not sure that the arm was broken, but it was very painful. I knew I would not be able to wrap a bandage round it properly so I soaked a face flannel in white vinegar, squeezed the excess out the best I could with my left hand and put it round the right one. I used a couple of rubber bands to hold it in place, no worries they were large enough to hold the flannel yet not interfere with my circulation. This I hoped would stop it from swelling. Since I don’t drink tea I managed to make a weak coffee with plenty of sugar. While I sat drinking this a friend called unexpectedly. She insisted on taking me to the hospital, where we took our turn at A&E.

Examination and X-Rays proved that I had a hairline fracture, it could have been so much worse. I was a very lucky lady. When I returned to the waiting area it was 10.30 pm and I was sporting a cast from my knuckles to my elbow. When we reached home I assured my friend that I would be fine and sent her on her way. I had ruined her evening and didn’t want to detain her any further as she had a days work to face in the morning.

Once home I phoned Elly and she offered to travel up from Dublin there and then. I told her not to attempt to move that night and that I would phone again in the morning to tell her how I was.

I quickly realised that living alone with my ‘major’ arm in plaster was fun. Undressing, showering and washing my hair with one hand etc was interesting… I tossed and turned all night trying to find a comfortable position. Resting my arm on a pillow gave some relief and the painkillers began to take effect. By morning the rest of my body was screaming for attention and sympathy. I needed stronger painkillers so phoned the Health Centre where the ‘On-call Dr’ said he would leave a script at reception for me. That was handy, I couldn’t drive with a plaster on my hand and the thought of walking the mile and a half to collect it, before going to the chemist and then a mile and a half back uphill was not on. Looking out the window I saw a neighbour reversing his car out of his garage. I called to ask if he would take me to the health centre. He did, and waited while I collected the tablets at the clinic before taking me home again. He said that if I needed anything to call on them. I didn’t call nor did he or his wife ever check to see how I was managing.

I knew Elly was worried so I took a photo of myself with the arm raised and emailed it to her. Immediately came her reply ‘I see you managed to put on a bra one handed!’ I did with difficulty, and succeeded in cooking my meals, washing my dishes as well as all the other chores about the house. I missed driving so contented myself at home, my left-handed mouse skills improved quickly and a multitude of other skills with it. I had made a start on Elly’s wedding outfit but had to leave it on hold for the duration.

I bought two sponge balls the size of tennis balls and used them to exercise my fingers every day and I went for walks. I taught myself to use PowerPoint and prepared a presentation for a family gathering. Two ex-work colleagues, one was the girl who took me to the hospital, came a few times and brought dinner clearing away the dishes before they left. They took me grocery shopping and out for the odd evening.

When I was due to return to the hospital Elly insisted in travelling up to take me for the appointment. The plaster was removed and replaced with a splint. The sight of my wrist and palm was a shock the bruising ran from my fingers and half way up my arm. The Consultant repeated over and over that I was a very lucky woman! When we left the hospital we went for a coffee and then travelled straight to Dublin. Elly thought that a change of four walls was what I needed. I stayed 10 days and it did me good, Elly and George took me back up the road once more doing a big shop for me on the way. While Elly packed everything away in one portion sizes George cut the grass and generally tidied up for me.

I appreciated all that Elly, George and my two girlfriends did for me and will never take my right hand for granted again.

We don’t ask to be born and have no choice of the lifestyle we are born into. Some of us are fortunate to be the result of a loving, caring relationship, while others are not so lucky. For some of us the start is easy with plenty of food, water and all the creature comforts we need. While there are other children born to poverty that quickly learn to beg or steal in order to live. Then there are children born as the result of greed, lust or rape.

I worked with a lovely well mannered young girl years ago from the North Coast of Ireland. Alice (not her real name) moved south for the job and was enjoying her new life in Dublin, away from home for the first time and sharing a flat with a couple of pals. One weekend the girls were invited to a party. Alice did go, but alas she didn’t remember any details about it the next day or even later the next week. Drink had been consumed, something she was not used to before hitting the Big Smoke. She accepted the teasing for a week or two, but it had well faded by the time Alice discovered she was pregnant following that one drunken night. She had no recollection of the man involved. She did tell her parents and although they were shocked and upset for her, they provided the necessary support.

Alice continued to work for as long as she could. Being young and healthy she coped well. About 7 months into the pregnancy there was a shock! The baby was not alone! Alice was expecting triplets! With this news she returned home to her parents and I later heard the babies were all delivered safely. News filtered through for a few months but like so many instances in life, I was engrossed in my own family and lost all touch. I often thought of Alice over the years and wonder how she coped. The children would be in their late twenties now.

So if you think you are the best thing since sliced pan, and that nothing can go wrong, step back, take a breather and think! To find a fault is easy; to do better may be difficult.

Well of course you don’t, but bundles like these were a common sight in the outside Loo’s during the first quarter of the last century. Things have certainly changed since those far off days.

Moistened Toilet Tissues in a Tub are now the order of the day. Every bathroom seems to have some. The sales blurb suggests we use them together with regular toilet paper to leave us feeling cleaner & fresher than ever before.

The claims made about them are:
soft
strong
enriched with Aloe Vera
flushable
dermatologically tested

“Brilliant” I hear you shout. “I couldn’t live without them!”

I have to admit I have a box in the house and one in the car.

But should we really flush them down the loo? Are they really Bio-degradable?

Are they really doing our tender skin a service?

Let me tell you a little story.

I was sitting in the hairdressers early one morning a few years ago, fidgeting patiently waiting for the Toyboy stylist to arrive and work his magic on my tender locks. The waiting area, like all Dentists and Doctor’s surgeries, had the usual bundle of tired well thumbed Ladies magazines to calm the frustration.

Picking one of these to while away the time it opened to a page of handy tips. Always willing to learn something new I read through the items on the page.

Steep dentures in water with Vinegar added to remove stains.

Add fabric Conditioner to a footbath to soften hard skin on the feet.

Use wet wipes as a quick stain remover.

This last one stuck in my mind and at some stage I had reason to try it. It worked! I tried it again several times and it always worked. I started on the outer side of the stain and worked to the centre. Now you know why I keep some wipes in the car.

Now it happened that on a bright June day I was hosting a lunch for an eminent gentleman and his good lady wife (both wearing collars backwards); to round off the numbers I had invited a couple of other folk as well. One lady wore not just her Sunday best, but her Very Best Outfit (VBO); anyone would think we were expecting Royalty! Lunch was to follow a church service of indeterminate length so I prepared a cold buffet. A dressed salmon was the centrepiece with colourful salads and accompaniments.

When all were gathered the hunger pangs were evident so without delay I sorted everyone with food while Jack saw to the drinks. The day was a cook’s delight, everyone seemed to be enjoying my efforts and helping themselves to more of this or that. Mrs VBO informed everyone how much she enjoyed baby beetroot as she tried to cut into one. The baby beet objected and jumped off the plate and hit her ample chest before rolling all the way down the front of her light turquoise Frank Usher dress before falling to the floor.

In her embarrassment she reached for her napkin to wipe the mark. I pleaded with her not to touch it and asked if she would accompany me to the bathroom. I used the moist wipes and the red stain vanished. We returned to the table and continued with the meal. No more was said about it so I phoned the next day to make sure there was no mark left by the wipes. She assured me that all was fine and there would be no need for dry cleaning.

On another occasion I was helping friends with preparations for another group lunch. My friends had recently moved to a new house and purchased a large dining table with a dozen chairs. The chair seats were upholstered in a winter white fabric. That day we had a rather crowded table with extra chairs added where possible. Several of the guests were elderly and some with unsteady hands.

When the guests were gone we set about clearing up the table and the room. I removed the chairs to vacuum under the table and horror of horrors one guest had dribbled the carrot & coriander soup! The evidence was plainly to be seen on one of the chairs. The hostess ran with the chair to the kitchen and was about to attack it with water. Once more I pleaded with her not to touch it. She did not have any wipes so I went to my car for my box. I worked on the stain which by this stage had a couple of hours to set. It took me some time but eventually I was pleased with the result. Again I phoned the next morning worried that I might have left a water type mark. “Grannymar” she said “Where did you put that chair? I have gone over each one and can’t tell which chair had the stain on it!”

Now hang in there, this is the last one and it is against me! Last November when I was staying with my Aunt in Dublin we were enjoying a bottle of Red – well they say the red wine is good for the heart! We adjourned to the lounge with the refilled glasses and honestly I don’t know what happened, but suddenly my hand was wet and the red wine was all over her peach velour sofa! My mind raced; two matching sofas and a chair to recover would make an expensive bottle of wine. I asked if she had wipes and to my relief she did. Once again the wipes did their work and removed the stain.

If the moist wipes work so well on all these stains, what do they do to our skin?

We have not officially started the Christmas break and already the Carnage on the roads has begun. The Irish Times starts the ball rolling with with the following piece :

Teenager killed, another seriously hurt in Tipperary crash

A teenager died and another was seriously injured in a crash in Co Tipperary this morning.

The single-vehicle crash happened at 8.05am on the Borrisoleigh Road near Templemore.

One of the men was taken to Nenagh General Hospital but was pronounced dead before arriving. The seriously injured man brought to Limerick Regional Hospital.

Gardaí closed the road, and an investigative team is at the scene. Gardaí are appealing for witnesses to contact Templemore Garda Station on 0504-32630.

Earlier a driver was killed in a two-car collision in Mullingar, Co Westmeath. The crash happened near the Covert at around 6am.

If you intend walking on a pavement, crossing a road or travelling in a car this Christmastide, think of your loved ones, travel carefully and safely. It is better to be late and safe, than never to arrive at all!