Lighters, Lipstick and Tampax



waffled by Fascinating Edna | 8/31/2003 03:11:00 PM


Edna Has Moved!!

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waffled by Fascinating Edna | 6/25/2003 12:57:00 AM


2002 September 11, 13.46 Iron Shopping

I was going through my stuff and found this, written September 11 last year. I had gone out shopping and reflected while standing in "silence" for two minutes in a department store.

Sometimes in the hurly whorly there are things that get passed by. Today could so easily have been “like that”. I was choosing an iron (having actually found myself to be impressed by innovative iron designs – sad eh) in town and I knew that the minute’s silence was about to occur. It arrived and I put my bags down and started to reflect, as we are meant to. I thought a lot about a lot in a very short space of time; it’s amazing how expandable a moment is.

I thought of how gifted I am to have three beautiful children and to have come out a sad relationship relatively in one piece. I thought about the fact that losing a lover had taught me that at least I can actually love and that gave me hope for the future, though it was hard at the time. I thought about the time I was made redundant and how much I enjoyed that summer at home with my children, being a real mum. I thought about how amazing these children have become, how intelligent, self-aware, able, independently minded and sometimes even a little selfless (not too often mind you). I marvel that I have managed to achieve that with little or no help.

I glanced around the shop and people were all reflecting on or deflecting the thoughts that were too uncomfortable to think. How you do that, you know, when the thought is painful and instead of thinking it you look at the deaf old ladies at the end of the aisle who hadn’t heard the announcement and were prattling away about vinyl utensils for non-stick pans, because frowning at them is more purposeful than being in pain about several thousand people who die every year through wars of some kind, irrelevant on their class, religion, colour, location – that’s a hard thought, not a good 1.45pm on a Wednesday thought.

I thought randomly for a second about how heavy this iron is and how far I had to carry it and then I thought about how heavy a starving child might be being carried by its equally starving parent. How strong the will to survive is in us all. How amazing we are despite our obvious weaknesses and stupidities and idiosyncrasies. I thought about the fact that a feather and a body falling from the top floor of an office tower would hit the floor at the same time and in any case would both be blown away, like the dust we all apparently and ultimately are. How lucky I was to be standing in front of my television instead of in front of my office window when I saw that plane fly into the building. I also thought how lucky I am that my children complain that I can’t afford Adidas football boots, and how great it is to feel guilty that I don’t take them on annual foreign holidays.

I reflected that I know people online, at home, in my home town who have lost someone or something precious. The parents who lost children, the partners who lost lovers, the struggling who’ve lost homes and jobs and how we take for granted turning our tap on or having the choices we have. I feel for everyone who has ever lost anything precious and feel gifted to have held on to so much in my life and to have been in such a position to have received so much.

I try and remember that every day of every week of every month is a September 11 to someone and smiled in that sad way that 86 children were born this year to mothers who had lost their partner a year ago today – joy tinged with tears. Life eh

waffled by Fascinating Edna | 6/20/2003 09:07:00 PM


If a Tree Falls in the Forest

You can tell just how busy i've been and how rude. Chasing Daisy got a lovely new frock coat a few weeks ago and I've only just seen the finished results, it's very zingy, I like it muchly. I haven't seen what the Trailer Trash Family has to say for, oooo lordy knows how long, so you can imagine my surpise when Daisy tells us that there has been no recent updates. Sigh, we come, we go. I agree (comments) to wishing them a speedy return. It could be that their trailer got swirled away to Oz in a hurricane. You just never know these things. Ooooh Gabby, is yours ok? Your trailer dear, no not mine, I don't have one. I have a clematis though, does that count?

It's a bit funny really. Where is Raed? shot to the top earners in Bloggywood for not posting at all, mind you cynical old me thinks that has a lot to do with a. someone smiling the right smile to those at blogger thus getting in the Blogs of Note list and b. it being nicely topical yet funkily "city" enough to be talked about by the armani crowd in that they could appear to be technically in the know (ie they could turn a pc on and put their now redundant home telephone line to use), seem trendily able to discuss "the war" simply by saying "Still no sign of Raed then?" and smug themselves down to the bottom of their cocoa knowing that they are not in the least bit bigotted, after all they read Raed. In the spirit of the web where anything goes and one can, in such an ecosystem, create something out of nothing it is no surprise and very much in keeping with this writing that there is a blog called Fucked Weblog , which incidently makes no reference to Bertha Mae's Trailer Trash being taken by the Refuse Removal Technicians but does list and allow the listing of all weblogs which erm, no longer are.

I was having a bit of a think about finding new sites. Shelagh posted a comment about a website which encourages such stuff (shocking eh) and I'll go and take a look at it after I've slept. I was thinking also that we are a group of really intelligent, good looking and creative people and in progression from the previous post I thought we might take a few days and see if we can find something really lovely, something really funny and/or something really visual and either post by comment or email to me and I will journal what everyone's found. I know it's a list. Ok ok I know it's a list, but it will be a list in a paragraph and I will use the words tap* and jelly** in it, as well as talking about knickers*** from marks and spencers. How about that. Me you and an antiblogroll, next Monday. Ooo this is almost as exciting as Book Club.

*fawcet, or I could just write about my son's irritating habit of banging pens on tables when I'm talking
**jello, or maybe I could just write about how my legs feel when I spot The Fiddler
***pants, erm I mean undies, oh bugger I mean knickers. Knickers.

waffled by Fascinating Edna | 6/18/2003 11:13:00 PM


Is it Just Me?

Well no it's not, not really. I have been mooching. It's the first time i've really mooched the blogs since I finished my last semester. I love reading everyone else's blogs. One thing I've noticed though: we all seem to list similar blogs, it's scary. I don't just mean the lovely friends who read this but every blog I really like likes all the stuff I like. Ok I can understand it in a way but I wonder, are there only really 27 good blogs out there? Perhaps we could all go and find one new great blog this week and share it with everyone else. What do you say? Oh ok, a dash of milk in mine.

waffled by Fascinating Edna | 6/18/2003 01:35:00 PM


Third Tuesday of the Month

Today is the Third Tuesday of the Month. Yes, oooh haaa, yes it is. I will do a little dance (in my head) and I will go and throw my clothes around my bedroom. I will put make up on and then take it off. I will be rehearsing later, but then...guess's the Third Tuesday of the Month, and you know what that means. I am sure we'll finish around 10pm, it's normal, and by then my daughter will be asleep, she's been brought up to the sound of beating drums and howling mums. The boys like the beer in the local pub is only 300 yards away so i know they'll stop in. I shall have to join them, and hehe, it's the Third Tuesday of the Month. The last time it was the Third Tuesday of the Month I was preparing to go to the pub as well, it is the night of the Welsh Folk Club. My dear friend, you've forgotten, I know I almost had, but tonight I should hopefully meet The Fiddler again. I aim to find out if he's attached. I may come home dejected. If I do I may eat ice cream. The freezer is on standby.

I am currently wearing a pair of khaki combat pants with all those strands on, the ones that are for trapping in car doors and stuff and a very small tshirt, I was thinking of changing into a pair of silk trousers and an indonesian wrap, my mum hates my clothes. "why can't you be normal like everybody else", "mother you just answered your own question"

waffled by Fascinating Edna | 6/17/2003 05:48:00 PM


It's Been a Trip: Potted History

I had a week, of sorts. One from that little town down the road, Hellsville. The week from hellsville, yeah, that's the one. Son ran away, police came and slapped his legs. He continued to be graceless, his school phoned, he's really done it this time. sigh. serious to me and him, mostly for him: skipping classes by pretending to be a college student. ingenious little bugger. the outcome of the school thing is that I get to spend half a ton (£50 for you fake plastic english speakers) on Letts Revision Tools (books for people who haven't been arsed for 12 of the 24 months of their course) and he gets a half packed suitcase. Well, the suitcase is due to the myriad of mother stressing acts that have been inflicted on this truly stressed mother. His father arrived with a mouth full of how he shouldn't take his son. I knew he would have, I was ready. I figured the best plan was to not allow him to get any excuses out, or if he did to have all the answers. I'm usually good at that. He started before he'd got through the door. Before I take the mickey (be sarcastic) I must say that he is really doing a credit to his position, he really wants to be a better dad, even if he doesn't want to iron or talk to teenagers after work - and after all, who could blame him. Ok suck up over. As he came through the door he said "I'd have him Edna, I really would, thing's the mornings see..." "Yes, I have those too, funny that", I chuntered. I pointed out that if he was going to have to get up earlier, eg 6.15am then so would our beloved child. Beloved child's eyes nearly fell out of his head. For a start he didn't think I'd ever talk to his dad about moving him out. Secondly he couldn't believe his father was in the house talking to me without casting dark spells over me, eg Die Witch. Lastly, the idea of him having to get up at 6.15 is enough to bring out the choirboy behaviour in any teenage boy. His father continued "Yes and then obviously I'm not as trusting as you, or as lenient, he'd have to be in by 7.30" - I tried very hard to be noble, I let it slide, but only after saying "I've done my best to balance good parenting with being in the right century...but I get your point, as you, I'm sure, get mine" Son was totally oblivous to this slight sparring as he dwelled with awe at the meanest of his father's possible rules. He immediately fell at my feet sobbing, vowing he'd behave.

Bless him, I think that he thought that would end it. His father lectured him for a further two hours. I admit to finishing him off. He was putty in my hands. He still is, but then, it's only Monday. Only time will tell if I get a holiday from hellsville.

Oh and I went to another carboot sale. I went to three actually. I bought huge wicker hampers, a 1940s desk fan and a few other goodies. I then came home and filled in the insurance forms. Why? Everybody knows nothing about anybody spilling an entire cup of coffee into my new 32" widescreen television. Everybody now knows someone who will be going without pocket money for the time it takes to pay the excess on the insurance.

Have you missed me? I missed you dear friend, you are a point of sanity which is warm and fuzzy in a life that can all to often be cold and cruelly in focus. Anyone who has ever had warts will know what I mean.

waffled by Fascinating Edna | 6/16/2003 11:21:00 PM


Are You Sitting Comfortably?
...then I shall begin...

I may be quirky, I may be irksome, I may be a pretty ditty witterer. I am many things, as are we all. I may be all that, but I know that I definitely am alone. This gentleman I dated last week; he's sweet and kind and gentle and I shall see him again. He seems to like me and while it's not setting my world on fire I do like him. See how cool I can be? Do you know why I am glad we weren't deep in the throes of passion? Well, firstly I couldn't cope. I can barely get my socks on. Now I don't want to go into logistics here and now do I? What? Oh, alright then. I can't bend and what I can bend won't stay bent. I am the unbendiest straight person I know. I used to be, to quote our esteemed author friend aldous huxley, "pneumatic" in the bedroom department. Now I'm more pottering than pumping. I am sad about this. I hope that I will one day find a creative and sensitive lover because inside I am still a seething, steaming sexpot despite my best impression of a character in Pogles Wood. I discussed this with the girls last night. I said I wished I was like those adventurous gay chaps who smile at each other and 7.5 minutes later they are "pneumatic" - even if it is in the local park toilets. Lisa jeered at me saying I should do such things if I felt so inclined, after all we have but one life. (I never argue, it's not worth it, I'll discuss her stubborn attitude with her when we are in our next lives). I pointed out that while the will might be there the flesh was not so fit. I had a mental image of smiling at some poor fool, getting to the hotel room and saying hold on while I just make a cuppa, that way I can take my drugs. After I've done that would you mind helping me get out of my chair. I won't be leaping on the bed, you can if you like though: after you have turned the lights down, my belly and bottom need kind lighting you see. Then perhaps you can drag my creaking shell to the centre of the bed and spend 45 minutes finding a suitable position which I hopefully can maintain for five or six minutes. Oh by the way, my name is Edna, what's yours? Hello? Hello?.

Secondly, getting back to the reasons why I'm glad we aren't currently in the throes of passion. The Wedding. Oh. Imagine your own family, if they are at all embarassing. Ok. My mother has nine brothers and sisters and many nephews and many more neices. They were mostly invited and lots turned up. My brother and I shared a table with our children. Our family took up most of the room. My cousin was suitably satisfied that her family had outnumbered his. Let the games begin. An uncle got drunk and pushed his wife. His son pushed him. My father tried to stop him and he pushed my father. My brother pushed him because he pushed my father. My uncle's wife pushed my brother for pushing her son. It was like a awful game of dominoes. I almost got involved but rememered the last family gathering that ended up with me being clocked in the chops (hit in the face) simply for trying to stop people killing each other. I made a sharp exit towards the ladies. Well, that was a mistake. My mother's youngest sister has five daughters, who between them have lots of stories and 18 children (16 girls - 2 boys). One daughter, who is my age, is a drug addict and shoplifter. Nice girl. In an out of prison, she is the black sheep of all black sheep. Her children are adopted by my aunt and one of her own sisters. She arrived, telling me how she's stolen her wedding outfit. Would I like to borrow her lipgloss? £27 from Debenhams. Er no thanks, I pay for mine. I made a speedy exit. Having not met her for about 19 years she had deteriorated badly since our childhood. Her sister became upset at her arrival. A further sister started arguing with her because she shouldn't allow herself to be upset by the errant sister. She agreed and wiped her eyes. She then wandered off leaving her mother (my aunt) holding her four babies, as well as the adopted children! My aunt swore a lot about it. To be fair I think I would have too. The children were dreading going home, two of them begged me to take them home with me,the could iron and cook and would be helpful. It was quite grim. My brother hired a mini bus and sent my aunt and the grandchildren home with a twenty pound note. Sheesh. On the plus side my cousin, the bride, looked beautiful, however I really am glad I didn't have to explain the politics to a new fella. My kids stopped complaining about lots of things this weekend.

My eldest got drunk again, under the watchful eye of my brothers. My eldest brother went to have a word with him about his behaviour. He got as far as "Son you are a really good boy, we are all proud of you". After this my boy burst into tears, telling uncle how sorry he was for being mean to me. He then wobbled over to me to wet my blouse in the same manner. The next morning he swore at his brother in the swimming pool. Another day another dollar.

waffled by Fascinating Edna | 6/10/2003 01:06:00 PM

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