Tag: Memories

Looking at photos of him…

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My phone is full of photos and every so often I optimise them because the file sizes  are too big. But that always mixes the dates up, and this time many photos of my hubby showed up out of the thousands of images I have.

Cue deep greif again. My man was funny, eccentric, bombastic, able to express himself. He was emotional and sometimes irrational. But he supported me and we loved each other. He had a mad sense of humour and although he could get angry about things that was more about incidents in his life that had caused him to suffer from PTSD.

Each time I see his face I remember and I am upset again. Decades of life together has made our link so strong. I wish I could have him back, not just photos, but the reality.

Esther Chiltons Blog prompt “surprise”

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Surprise!
One night I dreamt that I would meet some friends on a road nearby, but since they lived 40 miles away and only cycled that seemed unlikely. I also remembered the dream was on a wet day. Things seemed very clear. But as usual I couldn’t remember the details when I woke up. Then a few days later we decided to ride out and meet some other friends on their farm. It was an overcast day as we started out on our 5 mile ride to visit them. But SURPRISE! In the distance we saw our friends cycling towards us. They must have had the same idea. But they were with some others. It started to rain and as the friends drew closer I realised they were with the people I’d dreamt of! Then we all took shelter under cover of a bus stop. Thunder rumbled and lightening flashing! I realised it was my dream!

Vesta meals

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Tasty 1970s food before real foreign food was a thing. I particularly liked the chow mein vesta made (I don’t know if it’s still manufactured).

This is my faulty memory, I thought it came with prawn crackers but when I saw the photo I remembered they had a little packet of thin strips of noodles that you had to fry so they puffed up into little squiggles of crispy noodles. I’m guessing that the food was cooked In pans, certainly it was before microwaves, and it was unusual to have anything like this (except dehydrated mashed potato). I remember the jingle ” for mash, get smash!”

It has to be Chinese

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What are your favorite types of foods?

Our mother would take us out for meals occasionally when we were children. Sometimes it was Indian, but mostly Chinese. I like the flavours, the textures, the combination of ingredients. Duck with hoisin sauce, chicken chow mein, special fried rice, beef with spring onions and black bean sauce. All kinds of other things. I just like it, although I have read that the Chinese food in the UK is not authentic.

Mom got us to use chop sticks which added to the unique and special feeling it was to eat out. In those days the only other form of Chinese food was Vesta Chow mein which came in a box and you added hot water to it I think, and fried prawn crackers. But they were good memories.

My memory (phone)

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Why does my phone switch itself off when I try and take a photo? I think I might have too many photos in my phone memory and I don’t optimise them enough. When I do try and do that the picture sizes are reduced but the originals stay on the phone. So I have to go through them all to remove duplicates. This also means that all the photos are stacked under one date (today’s), but I have to do it. I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to do it now. It also means that the photo sizes here will be reduced.

My dilemma is that a lot of pictures here are large and they are taking up a lot of space, so I sometimes have to take off photos from my blogs to give me a bit more room to add new pictures here. So if you find a blog of mine here without a picture? Well that’s the outcome of not being able to afford a better package on WordPress. X

Can’t watch!

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I started watching the paralympics tennis and our man was loosing. I tried ignoring it and he started to win. Now I’m caught between wanting to watch and see who wins and not watching so I don’t jinx it!

It’s odd to feel I have any influence over the outcome. But listening to the game seems OK? Very strange. I’ve had this happen in other situations. The football world Cup was on, I watched, we lost. So I’d rather not watch and allow others to see the result no matter what happens!

Heat, Esther Chiltons blog prompt

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The heat from our bonfire used to toast us when we had our Bonfire night celebrations on November the 5th. To remember the story about Guy Fawkes and his attempt to blow up Parliament hundreds of years ago. But we were more interested in seeing all the colourful fireworks, Catherine wheels, jumping Jack’s, volcanoes, rockets and squibs. Then we would all go inside to eat jacket potatoes from the hot oven with lashings of butter and salt. Happy memories.

Did I really write lashings?!

Guy Fawkes night is traditional in the UK. Children try and collect money to buy fireworks by making ‘Guys’ to be burnt as effigies on top of bonfires. Nowadays the back garden bonfires are discouraged and larger organised events are the norm.

Cartridges

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The obligatory post on Facebook was asking if you knew what these were to prove you were a child of the 90’s. Why? I knew what these were before the 90’s!

Most people answered these were from fountain pens, but I disagreed, these were from cartridge pens.

A real fountain pen was one with a bulb in it that you squeezed to suck the ink up, or a lever on the side that squashed the inner bulb flat and when it was released pulled the ink in. I always used quink ink.

The cartridges were from cartridge pens, you just unscrewed the back half of the pen and swapped them out when they were empty… The only risk was if the cartridge leaked, the top end of the pen had a bit of metal that pierced the cartridge to allow the ink into the pen and nib. Sometimes you would end up with a pocket or pencil case full of ink if they leaked.

Compassion?

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I just wrote this in response to someone complaining about people being on benefits. I’m trying to point out that you don’t have to look disabled to be disabled, and most people would not choose to be poor.

I gave up working to look after my hubby because of his severe PTSD and my health started to deteriorate. I tried to set up a small business but couldn’t earn enough to manage and when he died I was left with my work pension and a bit of savings. My Diabetes had never been good and two and a half years ago I started to shake. That turned out to be Parkinsons disease. For several years I’ve had to wear a mask at night because I suffer from sleep aponea. I lack strength in my arms because of a frozen shoulder and the spasms from Parkinsons in my arms and legs. Now I might have heart failure after several years of atrial fibrillation. I used to be able to cycle up to 100 miles with hubby and was quite fit.
In all that time until I gave up work to look after hubby, I was only unemployed for 6 months. I have full pension contributions.
I appreciate that there are some people that don’t want to work, but would you know about my disabilities if I hadn’t just told you? I know I’m deteriorating but I want to keep going. There are a lot of people out there with hidden disabilities.
Why do we always complain about benefit claimers when 80 men in the world have as much money as half the world’s population? That’s 4,000,000,000 people? Many of these billionaires inherited their money and avoid paying any tax? The poorest don’t chose to be poor. Imagine yourself going to a food bank once every two or three months and getting 3 or 4 days food? Or desperate people renting houses they can’t afford in poor or moldy homes. Would you choose that?
I’m sorry for this long comment. I can tell you about all the hospital visits I keep having to attend. The scans and blood tests. I try and keep going. Life is difficult. We all have our crosses to bear as they say. It’s that old thing of don’t look at the speck in someone else’s eye and not see the beam of wood in your own. It’s easy to criticise but we need more compassion.