'MY CUP RUNNETH OVER'

I have always shied away from throwing myself into my birthdays, after having had so many sad ones, disappointing ones, lonely ones, difficult ones, troublesome ones, unhappy ones and just plain miserable ones....so many!

However,this year is very special, as so many people in my family didn't reach 60.
From 1980-1984, we had 12 deaths in our family (almost 3 a year) and 8 of those died before 60 (some long before 60). This affected me for many years, and I half believed I wouldn't reach 60 either.

Here I am - 60 - and very blessed to be (quite) well and fit, very young at heart, not too many 'pleats' in my face (yet), a (depleted) family and lots of friends. Thanx to all of you in blogland too, who have sent me good wishes.

I suppose the biggest realisation of this birthday is that I AM TRULY LOVED.

After so many years of struggling through a difficult childhood, battling with anorexia and bulimia, marriage, divorce, marriage, divorce,emigration, fleeing, re-emigration, and many many periods of hopelessness, depression and desolation, I feel at last that I have come out of the dark tunnel of my past and can breathe fresh air once more.

No doubt, I will always have to battle with my demons....

BUT, IF 60 IS THE NEW 40, I AM READY!

FLOWERS, FLOWERS AND CARDS, FLOWERS AND CARDS AND PRESSIES.

A PICTORIAL REPRESENTATION OF MY CHILDHOOD DONE BY STEVE

A FUTURE FAMILY HEIRLOOM

LUNCH WITH MY 'BOYS'. AM TRULY LOVED.

ROLLS ROYCE AND CHAFFEUR FETCHED ME ON SUNDAY.

I NEARLY FAINTED WITH SHOCK.

TEA AND CHAMPAGNE AT THE ST JAMES'S HOTEL, PICCADILLY, LONDON WITH MARK AND CARLA.

ARRIVING HOME TO FIND THE HOUSE ADORNED WITH PINK BALLOONS, WITH MY FACE ON THEM!!

A DIAMOND RING FROM THE ONLY MAN I HAVE EVER TRULY LOVED. (photo taken in Oz)

MY CUP RUNNETH OVER!

Tangent: Thanx Lolo

Lolo,who has become (another) good blogging friend,and I consider an exceptional artist, offered to send a personal ATC to the first 5 people who wrote a comment on her post (before Xmas).
I was the 6th, yet she still did one for me.

I was soooooo excited when her letter plopped through my letter box this morning, and was shaking as I tried to prise the (homemade) envelope open without harming the contents.
I am sure you've all experienced this feeling at one time or another in your life, probably when you were kids.
I thought was too old to feel this anymore, but I hadn't forgotten the excitement.

I absolutely Love this and will cherish it always. It will be framed and stand on my table where I draw and paint as a continual reminder of what I (and many women out there) need to strive for each and every day -SELF LOVE.

Thanx Lolo so much. You are very special.

Tangent: Snuffles is home

Steve brought Snuffles back this morning, and I feel better already.

She went to stay with him while we were in OZ, but now we don't know what's going to happen, so we've got her home again.

She's happy and so am I.

Thanks Stevie.

Fifty-eight: Continue crocheting

I knitted all the pullovers and cardigans for our family for over 20 years. I embroidered table cloths and also completed over 15 tapestries (will post some photos of them ). I then fell under the spell of crossstitching and have loads of these all stuck away in a case somewhere(will post photos of them too).
Crocheting always came second best to my knitting, but nowadays it is all I do when sitting down to relax. Ican't just sit down and do nothing, my hands have to be busy.

I found the Cuddles charity web site about 2 years ago and started making blankets for premature and still born babies, and this is my latest batch. I've probably sent about 60 blankets to them so far.
The fact that they are so small is good for my hands, as large things make them ache nowadays. Also, my eyesight isn't what it used to be either.
I like the thought that a family will be given one of my blankets at a difficult time in their lives, and maybe even keep/ cherish it forever.

A lot of love and care goes into my little cuddles blankets.

If you like crocheting, maybe there is a charity like this near you.

Tangent: God only knows

For Steve.

Tangent: Wedding

I've been married three times,
twice to the same man....

My conclusion:

Marriage- bah humbug!!
IF: wedding

Tangent: Nelson Mandela

I painted this picture of Nelson Mandela in 2003. Isn't it glorious?

Yesterday, 29th August 2007, a statue of Nelson Mandela was unveiled in Parliament Square in London. I forgot the date, and wasn't there to see him, so feel cross with myself.

When asked who I admire most in my life, my immediate reply is always 'Nelson Mandela'. I remember the day he was released from prison (11th February 2000). We were all watching it on TV and crying. There is no greater man than this one, his love of mankind and his penchant for forgiveness are great examples to emulate. Hail 'Madiba'.

Tangent: French Dog?

Parlez -Vous Francais?

OR

Shalom Kelev.

Is it a bird? Is it a plane?

No, it's Super Dog, wearing Steve's Yarmulke (Kippah) last Friday night, saying the 'brochah'.

Doesn't she look cute?

Tangent: My Wonderful Bro

While we were sitting in the lounge yesterday, I drew my Bro, but it's not true to life at all.

He's much bigger, broader, rounder and older. He thought this one was too 'fat', but he obviously hasn't looked in the mirror for years!

I adore having him here in London with me!

(IF:Visitors)

Thirty-Three: Explore London

We had a wonderful day out in London yesterday, going to the Tate Modern Art Gallery, crossing the Millenium Bridge, approached St Paul's Cathedral, fed the pigeons and enjoyed the hubbub and eccentricity of the locals.

Intend to do this more often, as I do love London.

Tangent: My true love

Yes, I know you thought I was going to warble on about a man again.............

Well, this is a man, a real he-man, a powerful, angry-looking but really 'soft as putty inside' sort of man (that's how I like my men.)

I am absolutely nuts about bulldogs. Yes, I know I have a little shih tsu, but I grew up with 'bullies'.

They are the ugliest, handsomest dogs, pure in nature, totally loyal, shlobbery, messy, eaters,make humungously huge craps, moult, fart, snort and just don't seem to fit into their own skins.

But look at that face, the eyes are so warm and loving, appealing and desperate. How can you not love this face?

They are valiant, strong, noisy, fierce and stubborn.They are playful, generous, kind, children-loving, comfort-loving, lazy slobs and I adore them.

So, why do I not have a 'bully' to share my life with. I am just too old to manage one now, to handle him, to care for him, to give him the walks he needs and the care he needs (have you ever tried to lift a 50 pound dog into a bath to wash him?)


If I could, I would.


I salute you, oh bulldog, love of my life!

Tangent:Spirit Singer Rattle

Mark gave me this quaint little 'fellow' last week when he returned from a business trip to Phoenix, Arizona.

'This rattle is a hand sized sculpture created to brighten your spirits, lighten your heart and help shake your cares away.'

It was love at first sight for me, and just what the doctor ordered, as my spirits need brightening right now.

Thanks Markles.

Tangent: My heart is full

Not of gravy, but of overwhelming joy, as I am a sucker for attention, adoration and love! Yup, the sickly sycophantic sort, no commitment, just quick and easy....

This does not come from the plate of cholesterol you see here, but the event behind it.

Let me explain. I have always wanted a surprise party, someone to go overboard especially for me, to plan and organise and develop and consult and get great pleasure out of giving something to another person they love/adore/worship! In fact, it was definitely on the list of 60 things to do/ have before 60.

I got it. Yup. I did.

No, not just a plate of nosh, a real, honest to God, down to earth surprise party.

Let me explain. yesterday at lunchtime in school, it was my regular 'knitting club' get together, with my 10, 11, 12 year olds. I started the club last September, never thinking that it would take off, but it did and has been the most popular club at school, with nearly 30 girls (and one brave boy) knitting and crocheting. In fact, it has become such a craze that their teachers were having to tell them to 'put away your knitting now, I want to start the maths lesson.'

I have derived huge waves pf pleasure and gratitude the past months. We have made a blanket for a teacher going into hospital, and worked feverishly for our Summer fair to sell scrunchies, purses, ipod covers, spectacles covers, mobile phone covers, handbags etc. Special thanks to my friend Gill who gave up her time to come and help us week in and week out.

I had planned to give them an 'end of year' party next week, when I was suddenly and mysteriously called away from my class just before lunchtime, so that they could prepare.

And prepare they did.

The blinds were closed, the lights off, the food stretched from one end of the table to the other, the orange juice poured and everyone waiting quietly till I was accosted outside the door and led in blindfolded.

With a whoop of 'surprise' they jumped up crowding round me and kissing and hugging me for joy. What a wonderful, amazing, incredibly delightful experience it was.

Overwhelmingly speechless (for once) with tear filled eyes I just hugged them back and we all got stuck in to eat, drink and be merry. We toasted one another several times, we thought about and expressed the things we were all grateful for, and we all had to say the one thing that we had enjoyed the most this last year...'Knitting club' of course we all shouted!!!!

So I have had my surprise party and what a joyful one it was. The plate of food I brought home for my husband is the only testament to it all, as I forgot to take my camera to school ! Blast!

Otherwise a perfect ending to a perfect club.

With a waiting list for next year!

Tangent:An apple for teacher

It's that time of the year again, waving goodbye to the (often crying) kids in your class and sending them along to the next dragon!

I hate it and love it at the same time.

They have been like my family, my kids, my reason to get up in the morning.

And, now, that's all over - yet again.

So the pressies start rolling in, the good, the bad and the ugly.

Candles that stink, loadsa bubble baths and chocolates.

Somehow not enough for all those months and months of slog. yet, still feeling like some sort of 'handout'!

My ideal gift would be a mug bearing the slogan" Coat finder, pencil sharpener, surrogate mother, walking encyclopaedia, form filler, arbitrator, language specialist, fundraiser, accountant, musician, government directive reader, PR officer, nanny, examiner, crowd controller, scapegoat............just call me a teacher!"

Tangent: Snuffles gallery

Thirteen: take more photographs

Twelve: Fall in love again

Not fall in lust, I've done that more times than you've had breakfast.

No, rather that dizzy, dazy, whirly, whooshy, whippy, wonderful 'falling' in love.

Why is it called 'falling'?

I reckon it's because you do 'fall'.....from a huge height. You lose all balance, all control, all sense of what's right or wrong, what's good or bad, what's true or untrue. Often it can be like being in a dream, a very satisfying one or a frighteningly nightmarish one.

Falling in love is not all 'strawberries and cream', rather much more like a mixture between 'Romeo and Juliet' and 'Beauty and the Beast'.

Notwithstanding this, it is quite the most perfectly amazing feeling in the whole wide world, totally insanity that can last for an hour, a day, a week or even longer ( I don't think!)

That's the opposite side of my personality peeping through.
Being an Aquarian. I see life through one rose-coloured side of my glasses, a total 'hollywood' view, but through the other side of my 'grey -coloured' glasses I see the 'life's a bitch and then you die' view.

Part of me adores the ' falling in love' stage, where nothing can go wrong. That heart hammering, ribs knocking, sandpapery mouth, earthquakey knees and croaky voice type of love. You feel you can't breathe, that unless that other person is with you 24/7 you might surely die, and (an extra bonus) you go completely off your food and start to look like Naomi Campbell.

God, how I love that bit - not only the Naomi Campbell bit- the whole megillah!
I have loved several times in my life, as I am an 'all or nothing' sort, but I have only really 'fallen' in love three times.


Soul mates.

Aha now that's a completely different kettle of fish.

I thought one of my three was, he wasn't.

I knew one of my three wasn't, he wasn't.

I knew one of my three was and he felt it too, but we did not end up together!

Love........shmuv......

Nine: Go dancing

God how I love to dance.

Waltz, foxtrot,tango, samba, rumba, cha cha cha. I love the feeling of swirling round the dance floor in the arms of a (preferably experienced) dancer. NOT a klutz with two left feet. NOT a wooden form standing rigid in front of me, afraid to let go and give himself up to the sensations inside him.

Dancing is a form of foreplay.....

Some music can be slow and lengthy, drawing out the exquisite feelings till you can't stand it any longer. Other music is hot, tempestuous, crazy and wild. Well, I love them all. Why the hell am I not dancing every single day of my life? As I think about it right this minute, I ache to be on the dance floor, preferably with someone who makes me burn at his touch, going round and round again and again, till I can no longer breathe.

I learnt to dance when I was seven. Every Sunday night Dad would put some music on the gramophone (I kid you not), and he would patiently and slowly show me the steps. I would start by standing on his huge shoes while he moved slowly round the room counting for me: 'one, two, three, one two, three' until I felt slightly mesmerised.

Then I would hop off and try it without his help. 'An apple for the teacher' by Victor Silvester, or Mantovani's 'Begin the Beguine' would be played over and over and over and over, till I got sleepy and he got ratty.

This was a regular Sunday evening after supper 'date' and I relished these times, waiting all week for the day to arrive and then all day for it to be our time.

We used to go to Weddings or any celebrations that included dancing, where Ma and Dad would dance only the first and last dance. The rest would be for me and my beloved dad. Everyone in our small town watched us dance with enjoyment, as I was the only child they knew who could dance like a dream, with the only Dad who would let her.

Throughout my adult life, I have possibly had only two partners who were good dancers, and both were called Tony. I met and danced with them twenty years apart and neither were my husbands. Enough said.

One of the best surprises I ever got was a birthday treat to the UK Ballroom Championships in Bournemouth about 1992. It was a magical evening and I was enthralled by the whole spectacle. I also remember sitting there knowing that a) I would never dance like that and b) No one would ever make me feel as special as my daddy had all those years before.

Now the question is: Will I do something about it, or will I just sit sadly and remember?

Eight: Brag more about my 'granddog'

Snuffles, as you can see, is the most beautiful, cutest, wondrous, affectionate, gorgeous, loving little 'granddog' that anyone could ever be blessed with.

I know, I know, we all love your pets, specially the snake in the back shed and the crocodile in the bath. But Snuffles has an unusual history which I'll briefly tell you about and then I intend to brag some more.

We were teaching in Kuwait six years ago when I saw a picture of the sweetest little puppy stuck on a tatty piece of paper on a tatty notice board in the local supermarket, with a tatty phone number beside it.

What can I say? It was love at first sight; utter, blinding, overwhelming, breathtaking love. Never in all my (nearly) 60 years have I fallen so quickly. I didn't know her breed, if she even had one, I didn't know what her nature would be like, or what to expect after only having kept bulldogs before. Bulldogs are another one of my passions.

I rang the number and a man with very broken English told me that he had got 2 dogs from Thailand, one a rottweiler and one a 'small dog'. He informed me that his small children were hurting the 'small dog', but I suspect he wanted to get rid of her because he would've preferred another rottweiler.

We arranged to meet the next day in the supermarket's car park, exchanging car colours for recognition.

After waiting 30 minutes,we had almost given up, when he arrived and, there sitting on the back seat was this bundle of love, pure absolute love. I can't say anything else except that I was smitten, gone, completely gone!

After a bit of haggling we bought her there and then and took her straight to the vet, who informed us that she might be a shih tzu and also that she had a blood disease and may not last the next few days. Oh no, my heart was broken. How could this be happening? After just one hour with her in my life, I felt bereft.

He started treating her and within a few days she was completely well. Don't quite know what happened to the blood disease, but there you are, he performed a miracle on her ........

She was everything a naughty puppy should be, but delightful, with instant cartloads of pleasure.

The following year, when the Iraq war broke out,teachers were urged to leave, but couldn't take their pets with them. What a huge calamity. What were we to do with Snuffs?We spent more time worrying and discussing her than any other problem we might face if we left.

One of the Sri Lankan cleaning ladies at school heard about our predicament and offered to look after her, which we accepted very thankfully. She promptly moved in for eight weeks and bonded with our Snuffs just as we had. Without her help, we would have had to get rid of our precious 'child' as we no one knew what the outcome of the war would be.

That was an awful time for us, but soon we were reunited. The following year we decided to return to the UK.

We sent her to do her quarantine in France with some friends of ours, and when she entered the UK our reunion was better than any you might see in a Hollywood tear jerker.

It was hilarious the first time we took her to a park here, as she had never stepped on grass before. She was a real desert dog, sand , sand and more sand.

After six years my love for her is as strong if not stronger than it was then. She and I have an incredibly close bond and she is my shadow.

She is the happiest, most contented little soul that I have ever had the pleasure to share my life with and if I were ever reincarnated I would love to come back as Snuffles, providing I could have me as her owner.

Three: New glasses

Hang on, hang on, before you utter the word 'booooring', hear me out.

I started wearing glasses when I was about 11 years old.

It all started with a nervous 'tic' where I would blink my eyes at a furious pace, blinkety- blink- blink, pause, blinkety- blink- blink whenever I was nervous. The strange thing about this sort of impediment is that one is totally unaware that they have it. In an effort to help me overcome this, my parents were advised to get me glasses.

And what horrible things they were, little circular lenses encased in a thick ugly brown frame , with arms that wrapped around the ears in a cruel vice-like grip. Uncomfortable, hideous, horrible things that all the other kids laughed at. I was forced to wear them daily until one of the boys in my class shouted out 'those aren't even real, it's just glass in there!'

I went home and asked whether this was true and yes, it was. The round owlet eyes were nothing more than glass, but, wearing them had in fact improved my twitching. I took them off and, weeping copiously, flung them into my doll's pram in the corner where they remained for the next few years.

Yup, the doll's pram was the place where everything was flung. All my discarded clothes, lost bits of homework, odd shoes and of course my dolls. Every now and then my mother would come in, tip it all out and yell, 'now clean up this pig's sty'. Then it would all start piling up again.

When I was 13 and the school nurse said that I really did need glasses, I didn't believe her and they too remained in the doll's pram more often than not (yes the pram was still parked in the same corner of the room).

My relationship with my glasses has always been a love/ hate one. In my thirties I tried soft contact lenses, which were the new craze, and found to my disappointment that I had 'too many tears', so they would slip all over my eyeball and never stay put. Weeping copiously I gave up that dream too.

My last pair of glasses was very ordinary, just a pair of glasses, and then a few months ago I woke up one morning with a strange feeling inside me. I realised I was soon to be 60 and had to mark this event in some or even many special ways, thus deciding to do 60 special things before I turn 60.

I knew what I had to do. I went marching down to the nearest optician, had my eyes tested and chose a really way-out zany pair of specs. And, guess what? After hearing the price and picking myself up off the floor, I fell madly in love with them. They are so me, they are so un-me, they are so modern, they are so different from anything I've ever had before.

Every time I look in the mirror I grin with joy and pleasure. Now isn't that what having new glasses is all about. After all, our glasses r us.