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Letter to a Sister : 46

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You just know it’s going to be a bad day when you put on your wellies to go and feed the animals and they’re full of cat sick. Louise (grouchy old cat) likes to sleep on the boiler. She obviously leaned over the edge in order to vomit. Super. I quickly removed boot, stepped back, and crunched on a dead mouse. It was obviously going to be one of those days. (So glad to read that you have them too. Perhaps we’re just lucky that way!)

Cleaned up mess in utility room and went out to sort out the birds. I was in the aviary, which is empty, when I heard a duck calling. I couldn’t see her anywhere. Wondered if I was going mad. I checked the laying boxes, under the old dog crate, everywhere. No sign of her but I kept on hearing her. Then I spotted her – actually there were two of them. They had crawled inside one of the ‘humane’ rat catchers that were on the edge of the cage. Goodness knows how they had managed it, they must have crawled through a tiny space to even get to the entrance. There they were, two ducks, crammed inside. One was calling to me, the other was very still and I thought she might be dead.

IMG_2221 (The rat trap -complete with rat!)

Getting ducks out of rat traps is extremely difficult. They only open at one end, the end that slams shut when something enters, so you have to try and hold the trap open with one hand. The duck immediately crawls to the other end. There isn’t room to turn her, so you have to detach her claws (which are clinging on to the base of the trap) and pull her backwards, whilst protecting her wings and stopping her feathers from protruding through the side of the trap or they’ll get damaged. All with your other hand. If you release your hold on her for a second, she will rush to the far end of the trap and you have to start all over again. It took ages. Four cats and the dog all came to watch/offer advice.

Anyhow, managed to release both ducks, who seemed fine. As I now had them captive, I decided to lock them into the aviary. This means I can collect their eggs for hatching (they tend to lay them all over the place and I rarely find them.) They were both hens, so I needed to catch a drake to stay in with them. This was also not easy, even with the dog helping. Eventually I shut the two hen ducks into the dog cage within the aviary and left the main door open. Ducks are very nosey. I moved away and the other ducks all wandered into the aviary to see what was happening. I could then shut the door, throw out the ones I didn’t want and leave two hens and one drake safely inside. I got them food and water, then went to clean out the chicken cage.

I lost a chicken last week – the little bantam one. (I bought the hatching eggs on ebay – they were listed as ‘large chicken hatching eggs’ but one egg was tiny and a bantam hatched. The joys of Ebay marketing!) Anyway, I thought a fox must have got her. Mostly the foxes stay out of the garden because Kia chases them off, but the young fox dogs go a bit silly in the spring, looking for a vixen, so I thought one must have decided to be brave. I looked around for feathers, but there was no sign. That was Friday.

IMG_3934 (Kia and chickens.)

 

Today I went into their cage and picked up the bucket I use to collect their poop in. There, underneath, was my bantam. She must have perched on the side and then it toppled over on top of her. I don’t know why she didn’t call to me. The other chickens all ignored her too, because they sleep in there every night. She was obviously upset but seemed unhurt. There were two eggs in there too.

I put her in with the ducks. Chickens are nasty if there’s a weak one, I thought the flock might attack her. She can be a duck for a few days. Ducks are much nicer, very friendly to each other and will even accept wild ducks on the pond. We have a few wild ducks that visit every spring. There are a pair of mallards who nest on the pond (but their ducklings never survive – we have too many crows and magpies in the trees and they pick off the ducklings one by one when they leave the nest. It’s brutal.)We also have a few mandarin ducks who come in the evening. They are beautiful. I think they must visit from a neighbour’s pond. They never nest with us, though we do have big trees around the pond, so I am always hopeful.

I thought raising children was hard, but I think it’s tougher when you’re a duck.

Take care,
Anne x

PS. I love the photos of Iceland. Maybe I will come with you next time.

I always get lost in foreign cities too – we share the same ‘confused’ gene.

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A View of History…..

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What is your view of history? It seems there are three main views (do let me know if you think there are more.)

The first idea is that time is like an old fashioned clock. It has been wound up, the pendulum is swinging and slowly, slowly, it is winding down. There was a beginning to life on earth and there will be an end. That is all there is to it. How individuals live and behave is pretty meaningless in terms of history. In millions of years from now, there will be no life on earth and no one to remember it. There will be nothing.

The next idea is that time is circular, more like a spiral. Everything that happens has happened in the past and will happen in the future. Events repeat – possibly after thousands of years, but basically the same things happen over and over again. Whilst this clearly doesn’t apply to specific inventions (the Romans had central heating but no internet!) in terms of humanity, empires rising and falling, people doing the same things over and over, history repeats.

I guess this idea is behind the philosopher who said,

“Every river flows into the sea, but the sea is not yet full. The waters return to where the rivers began, and starts all over again. Everything leads to weariness – a weariness too great for words. Our eyes can never see enough to be satisfied; our ears can never hear enough. What has happened before will happen again. What has been done before will be done again. There is nothing new in the whole world. ‘Look!’ they say, ‘here is something new!’ but no, it has all happened long before we were born. No one remembers what has happened in the past, and no one in days to come will remember what happens between now and then.”

The last idea is that history is more like an arrow that has been shot from a bow. It is going somewhere. We might not see the big picture, but there is a clear aim, there is somewhere that all this life on earth ultimately leads to.

So, which view is your view? I’m not sure if it’s possible to hold the third view if you have no belief in God or an afterlife. What do you think? I would be very interested to hear from anyone who does hold that view and who doesn’t believe in God. It is certainly the view held by religious people but if there is no God, I’m not sure where life could be leading. What do you think?

I thought about this a lot when I was a teenager. Actually, I was a very unhappy teenager – all those hormones whizzing round made for a very troubled person. I also could never summon enthusiasm for things that I felt had ‘no point’ (a common view amongst middle children I believe.)

This was something of a problem at school and I frequently skipped lessons and rarely troubled much about homework. It wasn’t helped by our family having very little money. Why learn French if the only foreign country you are likely to visit is Wales? I was also brought up to believe that the best thing for girls to be was a wife and a mother, so what use was chemistry going to be? (I do now, as an adult, think that being a wife and mother is an excellent thing to be. However, I also think that other careers are also excellent. I do sometimes wonder if I might have made a good journalist, going around the world and giving other people a voice. Some better qualifications would have been helpful. Too late now…)

I did actually, for a while, get very depressed. I was brought up in a religious family, but we were pretty much taught rules and knowledge. I really couldn’t see the point of life. If the point was to have fun, and I clearly wasn’t, then why bother? If there was a Heaven, why not just go there straight away?

No one ever told me (or at least, if they did, I never heard) that there was a plan and that I was part of it. I never heard anyone explain the last view with the addition that the God who had ‘shot the arrow,’ actually had a purpose for me, there was a point to being alive, right now, even if I didn’t always see it. I wish someone had told me that. That’s why I’m telling you.

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A Trip to London with Aunty Ruth

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Letter to a son….

I hope you’ve had a nice week. I went to London with Aunty Ruth. She wanted to see Lincoln’s Inn and Grey’s Inn (because I sent her the books by C J Sansom, which are murder/mystery books set in the 16th century. The main character, Shardlake, is a lawyer who works at the Inns.)

We got the train to London Bridge and then walked up, past the Bank of England and Guildhall. We got a bit distracted at Guildhall. I told her about going to a function there and we decided to see if we could break in, so I could show her the really cool hall. We went into the art gallery bit first, because I thought we might find a route through into the hall. This was free and had some fantastic paintings. I was a bit surprised to see a miniature version of one of my favourite paintings – The Execution of Lady Jane Grey by Delaroche – do you remember me taking you to see the big version in the National Gallery? (We went when you were small enough to be persuaded to do things that I considered ‘good for you’.) Anyway, apparently Delaroche did this tiny painting first, as a sort of practice attempt.

IMG_3907There wasn’t a route into the hall but a nice security man told us that actually, we were allowed into the hall, we just had to use a different entrance. We found the right door, had our bags checked, and went into the hall. There’s a plaque on the wall that tells you about some of the famous people who had their trials there – people like Anne Askew (a heretic), Lady Jane Grey, and Henry Garnet (part of the Gunpowder Plot.) A lot of history, makes you think, to realise that it was real.

 

 

 

IMG_3903Something which I assume isn’t based on reality are two statues of Gog and Magog, who were two giants who fought Brutus on the site of Guildhall.

 

 

 

 

After Anne Askew’s trial, she was carried on a chair to Smithfield Market to be burnt. (She was carried because she couldn’t walk due to being stretched on a rack when tortured.) She was only 25.

We walked up to Smithfield Market to see if there was anything marking the spot where people were executed. (It’s very lucky that Aunty Ruth shares my interest in this stuff. Perhaps we had a weird childhood.)

IMG_3911Smithfield Market is a meat market, it has been one for centuries. There was nothing to show where they actually killed people, though there was another plaque giving information. It’s where William Wallace was hung drawn and quartered (you have seen the film, Braveheart, with Mel Gibson.)

It is also where people could sell their wives. Apparently, a few centuries ago, getting a divorce was very difficult, so men would take their wives to Smithfield Market and sell them! I assume that’s where the term ‘a meat market’ comes from (when talking about nightclubs or places with lots of available women.)

 

We then had a very nice lunch in Carluccios (email, in case you want to go there, is: smithfield@carluccios.com ) It was very relaxed and the food was good and we spent a very long time just chatting about when we were little. Aunty Ruth started with a coffee, but then she has been living in Canada for a long time now, so I guess some oddities are bound to appear.

IMG_3738We did finally make it to the Inns. Aunty Ruth was slightly nervous about just walking into places that had ‘Private’ and ‘Do Not Enter’ signs but I assured her that it would be fine, we could just apologise and leave, they don’t execute people anymore in the UK. I told her to try and look like either a lawyer or a criminal, so people would think we had business there. She took lots of photos, which rather spoilt the image. (Actually, according to the website, it is open to the public at certain times. But it was more fun when she thought we were trespassing.) It really is an amazing place, brilliant buildings and peaceful gardens right in the middle of London.

Walked back to London Bridge and got the train home.

Saw some lambs when I drove her back from the station – first ones I’ve seen this year. The sheep from the field next to the house have been moved, so Kia is a bit more relaxed this week.

The rats have destroyed FOUR duck eggs. Am very annoyed, I really want some more ducklings this year. I don’t know what to do now, whether to collect them (eggs, not rats) and hatch them in the incubator. But that is a month of incubating plus about a month of keeping them warm at night and I’m not sure if I am definitely here for a two month stretch. I might ask the boys in Sunday School if any of them would like to ‘baby-sit’ some ducklings in their garage for a week if I go away.

Take care,

Love, Mum xxx

PS. When you wash your duvet cover, remember to do up the poppers first, then it won’t fill up with all your other washing. I do realise that there is a bit of an assumption there. If washing your duvet cover is not a regular event, I don’t need to know…

PPS. Please try to eat some fruit/vegetables.

 

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Thank you for reading.

My sister’s letters can be found at:http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk

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Letters to a Sister : 45 – Spring Cleaning

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Most of my life needs a spring clean. I have spent the last two years mainly recovering from brain surgery (which takes a lot longer than you might think) and then writing books. My house has the level of cleanliness that you would expect from someone who basically ‘does the basics’ but never has time to sweep the cobwebs off the ceiling or tackle the underneath of the beds. Actually, I have never liked housework. My boys are at uni but I still have piles of clothes they out-grew when they were ten. As for exercise – forget it!

So, I decided to do something about it. I cannot tackle the whole house – that would drive me to despair. But I can do one small thing every day. Yesterday I swept the cobwebs. Today I plan to wash all the shelves in the fridge. Tomorrow I will wipe finger marks off the light switches.

image1I have also tried to start exercising properly. Every morning I go on the exercise bike for twenty minutes, then do some floor exercises. My muscles now ache and my bum is sore. But I feel better for doing it. Today I dug out my big padded cycling shorts, the ones I wore years ago when cycling from London to Brighton. They saved my bum further discomfort. You can imagine how sexy they looked – even more lumps in strange places on my middle-aged body! Might not wear them if anyone else is in the house……

 

Another ‘exercise’ I have started is reading the above book, which a friend recommended. It’s excellent. It’s written by someone who understands middle eastern customs and life style and has put the teaching and life of Jesus into context. I love things like that.

I try to read a couple of pages every morning, with my coffee (illy) and breakfast biscuit (BelVita). They all set me up for the day. Today I read about the verse “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.” The author points out that we need to eat and drink regularly, it’s not a one-off activity. I find this terrifically reassuring. Whilst my knowledge about God related things is pretty extensive (we were after all, steeped in it pretty much from birth and then I went on to teach Religion), my level of righteousness is not up there! The thought that this is okay, that constantly needing to search is what God expects, is wonderful.

He then goes on to define “righteousness” (it’s not a word that comes up over dinner very often, is it!) He says it’s not the “going to church, don’t drink alcohol, never swear” stuff, it’s the stuff Micah talks about in his book – loving justice, showing mercy, walking with God. That’s what I need to be seeking, as often as I eat and drink.

So, there you are, I am feeling positive. Am all ready for the week  the day  well, the next couple of hours.

Take care,
Love, Anne x

PS: The ducks are laying. There is one blue egg in the aviary, am hoping the rats don’t eat it.

PPS: A flock of sheep are now living in the field that joins our garden. Kia (GSD) spends all day monitoring how close they are to the fence!

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You can read my sister’s letters at : http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk

Letters to a Sister : 44 – Tantrums and Animals

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Wednesday evening, about six o’clock, I went to Waitrose. There was a mother there with a little boy, he was having an absolute loop-out. It brought back lots of memories. The little boy was about five or six and at some point had managed to become detached from his coat. He was now refusing, absolutely, to have anything to do with it. Mum was tired, busy and embarrassed that everyone could hear him scream and shout. It was cold outside, she needed him to put on the coat, he was refusing. It was loud and emotional. I felt so sorry for her, I have been in her place too many times.

You could see she was tired, at that, “I’m going to cry myself in a minute, I don’t know what to do” stage. The threats were escalating (no ice-cream ever again) and you could see she was itching to smack his legs but too worried to do it in public in case everyone disapproved. I wanted to say something to her. I wanted to tell her that she wasn’t the world’s worst mother, that all mothers have been there, that eventually he won’t have tantrums anymore and she will actually wish he was small again. But I didn’t. Partly because there was no pause in the boy’s screaming and her telling him to put on his coat, partly because she looked so emotionally fragile, so completely worn down, that I thought she might misunderstand or burst into tears.

The thing is, if I am honest, I still don’t know what you are meant to do in those situations. Children are completely unreasonable and if they refuse, absolutely, to do something, there is not much a mother can do. My children did eventually stop having those very public screaming rows, but I think I just got better at avoiding them, seeing what was likely to happen before we got to that stage, not getting into situations that would explode. I don’t think I ever learnt what to do when they did happen.

I do remember a particularly bad session with one child where I believe I asked husband to stop the car so I could leave him by the side of the road. I think he was refusing to wear a seatbelt or something. We were in California, on holiday. Son was screaming, daughter started to cry because I was going to abandon her brother, other son burst into tears because daughter was crying, our friends (who did not have children at the time) were terribly worried and wondered if they should intervene. It was not a wonderful time. But it passed. No one was abandoned by the road. Son now always wears seatbelt. (Friends now have children of their own and understand completely.) I don’t miss everything about those days.

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This Tuesday was a very productive day for me. I finished the first draft of Joanna. I am now, according to Stephen King in his book ‘On Writing’, supposed to forget about it for three months, then re-read it and make any changes and additions that seem appropriate after reading it with ‘fresh eyes’. I, of course, am not sure that I am patient enough for that and am just dying to send it out to agents.

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I also did some awful animal jobs. Regular stuff, like feeding them and cleaning them out and collecting the eggs, just sort of happens every day without me really thinking about it. The other stuff, like worming them all and using the flea stuff, is a pain and I tend to put it off. But not Tuesday, Tuesday I got it all done.

IMG_3869I took old grouchy Louise to the vet for her vaccinations.

I weighed the outside cats (SO much fun on my kitchen scales, you can imagine) and bought them all worm tablets and flea stuff. Then I forced the pills into their mouths (which they hate.) Five cats were successfully wormed, Mandy refused to swallow and after an absolute age, when I was sure it would have dissolved, she spat it out. Annoying.

I then squirted them with the flea/worm combo stuff. They hate that too. It has to go on their skin, so it probably feels cold. After they were done they ran away and refused to come near me for the rest of the day.

The ducks are thinking about laying. They have started making round dips in the hay in the aviary.

The chickens are horrible. They all pick on one chicken and peck at it. It tends to change, they take turns on who is picked on, so they do get some respite but there is always one poor scraggy looking bird who lays smaller eggs because she’s unhappy.

IMG_3868Mostly, all the animals get on together well. Mungo (inside cat) seems to have taken over Kia’s (GSD) bed, though they do sometimes share.

 

 

The cockerels have had a few stand-offs this week – perhaps because it’s Spring. Kia manages to sort it out (she bounces on them!)  I’m hoping it doesn’t escalate or one will have to go.

IMG_3871The outside cats have allocated themselves beds. There is a heated igloo, which the two mothers have squashed flat and now sleep on together. There is another heated bed, big enough for three, where Mandy sleeps. Midge sleeps on top, where he can see everyone.

 

 

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When everything is calm, I like my life. Hope your week has been good.

Take care,
Anne x

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Letters to a Sister : 43. Lent and Laughing

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Did you have a nice week? I managed to remember both Husband’s birthday AND Valentine’s Day last week. This is surprisingly difficult because they come so close together. I did one year forget the Valentine’s card completely. I didn’t realise until I was going to bed late on the evening of the 13th. We always exchange cards first thing in the morning, so there was no way I could make an excuse and say I was giving him my one later – he knows me too well, he would know I had forgotten. What to do?

Then I had a brain wave. Husband is a very organised person. He always keeps everything in tidy places, they are easy to find. He is also quite sentimental, he keeps all the cards that he is given. These traits provided an excellent solution. I sneaked to the cupboard where he keeps his old cards and found a Valentine card that I had sent him a few years previously. Popped it into a fresh envelope and there you are, all sorted. The next morning, there was his card waiting with his morning tea, just like normal. (Yes, I did admit to it, but much later, after it wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t surprised.)

I have never claimed to be a saint, (and people who know me have also never felt tempted to give me that title.) With this in mind, you will understand why I have decided that our church’s plan for Lent – to do one random act of kindness every day – is beyond me. I am just not that nice. I have therefore decided to lower the bar a little. I am going to try and not be bad at least once every day during Lent. So far this is going okay.

It means I have to do things like change light bulbs sometimes. I hate doing this. We keep the light bulbs in a cupboard that is very awkward to reach, between a chair and a bookcase behind a table. Getting new light bulbs is a hassle. Now, our bed has two reading lights in the wall behind it. I like to go to bed early and read for hours, so my light often needs a new bulb. Husband rarely reads in bed, his bulb hardly ever gets used. It is much easier, when my bulb runs out, to just swap it with the one in Husband’s light. He did comment last week that the bulbs don’t seem to last very long because he never uses his light but the bulb frequently needs replacing. I just smiled. If my bulb goes during Lent I will replace it properly. Probably.

I also have to try and not laugh inappropriately. This is very hard for me. I am someone who laughs a lot – it is my default reaction. I even laugh when I am asleep sometimes, which is very annoying because I wake myself up giggling and then cannot even remember what I was laughing at! Husband also complains.

The thing is, I do find rude jokes funny, ‘The Inbetweeners’ was my favourite programme for a while, which even my children told me was inappropriate for a woman my age. When someone drops something or falls over or says something wrong, I feel those giggles bubbling up inside and the more I know I must NOT laugh, that they will find it hurtful, the harder it is to stop.

I am making a special effort for Lent (though actually that bit is not going so well. Someone told me this week that their neighbour had been found dead in their car. They were waiting for the AA to arrive. They had a flat battery. Something about it just struck me as hilarious. I’m not sure I managed to look sad and caring, but I did try.)

It was always a problem when I was teaching – I was never very good at telling off the children because I always wanted to laugh.

I remember once a thirteen year old boy came up to me very pale faced and told me that he had swallowed the end of his crayon. He was obviously terribly worried that he would die or something. I’m afraid I wasn’t the sympathetic caring adult that I should have been at that moment, partly because it was stupid for a boy that old to be chewing his pencil anyway.

I also remember when I was teaching infants and a little girl came to the front and said she wanted to sing a solo to the class. All very good for building confidence and allowing her to express herself. Except that it was terrible and by the end I had tears running down my cheeks and was hidden in a hanky pretending to blow my nose so the class wouldn’t realise I was laughing. It was not my finest hour as a caring primary school teacher.

Anyway, hope you are managing to laugh at the right times this week. Sometimes it’s a life saver.

Take care,
Anne x

PS. You do realise that Mum cycles on the path, don’t you? Why does she need a BACK light??

PPS. I feel you need more veterinary practice. You can take daughter’s cat (who hates me) for her jabs while you’re here.

You can find my sister’s letters at:

http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk

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Letters to a Sister : 42

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I do hope you have managed to find Mum’s secret stash of sugar. Is her house warmer now she has replaced her windows? She was very pleased to have them done, to get rid of those leaky old ones and have them replaced with smart plastic ones. She even coped quite well with having a builder around.  It reminded me of when we did our building work. That was something of a learning experience for all of us.

Firstly, I learnt that wood really DOES float. Do you remember how the ducks started laying on the island? All those lovely big eggs and I couldn’t reach any of them. So, when we had the scaffolding up, after the builders had gone home for the day, I thought I might borrow some of the scaffolding planks and use them to walk across the mushy floor of the pond to raid the island. The bottom of the pond is full of silt and is very dangerous to walk in, so I figured, in my wisdom, that laying a plank across it would make a safe route. I lugged the heaviest plank I could carry up the garden and called grumpy eldest child to come and watch, so she could rescue me if I fell in.

She followed me up the garden muttering about revising for exams and that wood floats and my plan wouldn’t work. I could hardly carry the plank, it was so heavy, so I was sure she was wrong. She wasn’t (she rarely is.) I threw the great heavy plank into the pond and watched as it floated away.

I now had eggs on the island AND a plank of floating scaffold that I couldn’t reach. When the builders returned the next day I had to tell them that one of their planks was in the pond. I decided not to explain. They will have assumed it was one of the boys (which is an excellent reason for having children. They take the blame for all sorts of things.)

My next disaster also involved scaffolding. As you know, I am afraid of heights. It annoys me, seems silly to be scared of something so inconvenient. So I decided to conquer my fear and each evening, I would climb the ladders to the top of the scaffolding. I thought that if I went up to roof height every evening, eventually I would stop being frightened and my fear would be over. It didn’t work.

Going up was fine. But when I got to the top, my body just gave in to the phobia. My brain was telling myself it was fine, I was safe, sit up and look around. My arms and legs disagreed, shook compulsively and I thought I was going to faint. Very annoying. Husband was not impressed when he found me up there and had to come up and talk me back down the ladder. I decided to not try again the following night.

Husband had bit of a learning experience himself. We went to Spain that year for our holiday and he kept complaining of a pain in his side. He eventually went to the doctor and was told he had a hernia. I thought they were things old men got. I could not understand how city worker husband had got one. Then someone mentioned that he had been having weight lifting competitions with the boys, seeing who could lift the heaviest bit of scaffolding. It all made sense. I was perhaps not as sympathetic as he hoped, even though he assures me that he won the competition.

Do hope we don’t find Mum sitting on the roof – I’ll call you if I do.

Take care,
Anne x

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You can read my sister’s letters at:

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Letters to a Sister : 41

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Thanks for your letter. You are very lucky that one of your boys cooks. I wish someone in my family did. I hate cooking dinners, really hate it. It is a pressure every day, trying to decide what to eat in the evening. Part of the problem is that although I hate cooking, I do like eating decent food. So ready-meals just don’t do it for me. None of family really cooks though, unless it’s Mother’s Day or something.

Actually, that’s not quite true. When I was in labour with Son 1, Husband did cook pizza for two year old daughter. I told him he just had to take it out the freezer and put it in the oven. Which he did. Literally. It wasn’t until daughter complained there was “white stuff stuck to it” that we discovered the polystyrene base had also gone straight from oven to freezer. I think that’s the last ‘dinner’ he has ever cooked. I blame his mother.

My sons also aren’t great communicators when they’re at uni. I send them emails and texts, letting them know what’s happening, but they rarely reply. Every so often I send an, “Are you dead?” text. To which they usually reply, “Yes, murdered horribly while in pub.” So I know they’re basically alright.

You can then, imagine my concern a few weeks ago when I arrived home to find a message on the answer phone saying, “please call me,” and a text saying the same and three missed calls on my mobile. Heart in mouth I dialed his mobile, hoping that he would pick up, wondering who I should call if he didn’t. He did.

“Oh, Mum, where have you been?” he said, “I need to know how you make soup.”

We discussed the whole idea of beginning messages with “it’s not an emergency.” Then I told him how to make soup.

You have to read my book when it’s published. It is not optional for sisters. It won’t scare you, you’ll be fine. Actually, I have nearly finished the main part, the bit about the psychopath. Which I’m quite relieved about because she’s not very nice.

I did lots of reading, read some papers by neuro scientists and got some of their books. I also watched some clips on YouTube, so I could try and imitate the speech patterns of how known psychopaths talk. It was all very interesting actually. The thing I found most disturbing was how likeable the psychopaths were. I think of myself as a good judge of character, but these people, who had sometimes murdered dozens of people, came over as very nice people. They were the sort of person you enjoy being with, the people who you invite round for dinner.

They were also very believable. Even though I knew, from my background reading, what the true situation was, when you heard someone telling you that they came from a “loving Christian family” you tended to believe them. It was all very interesting. Husband did get a bit fed up with it though. He would come home from work and I would begin a sentence, “Did you know….” and he would instantly say, “Is this about psychopaths?”

Your writers’ group sounds fun. I would love to be able to talk lots about my book. I wouldn’t want feedback though, that would be way too scary. You can be my writer’s group when you come over. I can talk for many weeks about psychopaths – how long are you staying for?

I might even bake you a cake. I like making cakes, it’s only dinners I find emotionally difficult. I will make it during Lent, then it will count towards one of those ‘random acts of kindness’ that we’re all supposed to be doing every day. I have a feeling that might turn out to be even more stressful than having to cook a dinner every day.

Take care,
Love, Anne xx

PS. Bring your wellies. It hasn’t stopped raining since you were here last time.

PPS. Happy Chinese New Year. It’s the year of the Monkey!

This letter is a reply.
You can read my sister’s letter at:
http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/cakes-migraines-and-cooking-letters-to.html

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Letters to a Sister : 40

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How was your week? I am feeling hassled! It’s mainly to do with not having enough time at the moment. I have started writing about Joanna (my psychopath) and I’m loving it. I spend all my time thinking about her, imagining what she is like and I am desperate to write her story. But real life keeps getting in the way. I notice dirt I ought to clean up, husband wants dinners, the animals need looking after, I still have all my commitments at church, I have friends to keep in touch with. It all feels like too much sometimes.

I know it’s better than having an empty life – sometimes I’ve had those phases too, when I have too much time, life is lonely and boring – but right now it’s too full. Then I wrote a whole chapter of my book and realised afterwards that it was wrong. I had my psychopath stalking victims on Facebook but actually she was active before 2004, so social media wouldn’t have been available for her. Very annoying. I had to think back to those days when we didn’t have computers and we actually read newspapers for our news and had absolutely no idea what aunty Flossy was up to.

I do find that I get stressed very easily now – do you? I have actually started having proper panic attacks over the tiniest thing. I thought for a while that it was due to my brain surgery, they cut through the bit that controls stress in the body, so I was blaming all my worries on that.

However, when I mentioned it to my hairdresser (no, do NOT laugh at me – hairdressers see more of real life than most other people, plus when you are stuck in a chair for ages, it’s natural to chat, you get to know each other) she assured me that many women of my age start to feel nervous about things. I have been asking around and I am amazed at just how many people do get anxious about situations that they know are ‘safe’. Things like having coffee with a friend or going somewhere that I go regularly, all now cause these anxiety feelings. Really, I would much rather just stay home with my animals and never go anywhere. But that would be odd. Even for us ‘women of a funny age’ I feel there should be limits.

It made me wonder though if it is just a natural part of aging. If worrying about things that never bothered us before is so that we do start to cut back, we become less adventurous at a time of life when perhaps we should be thinking twice before we bungee jump or trek through a rainforest.

At our church group this week we were asked to consider how we could build bridges with people, to be involved at a deeper level with people. I told them that actually I wanted to blow up a few bridges. I don’t think it was quite the response they were hoping for.

It’s true though isn’t it, sometimes we can feel stretched too much, as if we have become like that stretchy man in The Incredibles. A bit too thin.

They have also changed the name of the church group. It is now called a ‘Life Group’. Not sure what I think about that. It sounds like the religious equivalent of ‘AA’, some sort of support group. Or perhaps that’s the idea, maybe it is a kind of support group, meeting friends to share how we’re getting on with trying to live good lives. Not very well in some cases (but you’re only allowed to say that about yourself.)

Take care,
Anne x

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My sister’s letters can be found at : http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk

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Letters to a Sister : 39

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Have you read any good books lately? I have just finished’ All Quiet on the Western Front’ by Erich Maria Remarque. Have you read it? It’s brilliant, some bits made me cry. I wont tell you the ending because you should read it if you haven’t already.

It’s about a group of boys, aged 18 or 19, all from the same class at school, who are called up during the first world war. It’s fictional, though Remarque was at the front during the war, so I’m guessing it’s fairly realistic. The thing that makes it even more interesting is that they are German, so you glimpse how they saw us, the enemy. It is very well written. I read a translation by Brian Murdoch and it was very easy to read, didn’t feel like a translation at all.

I think the aspect that touched me most was that the soldiers all knew each other so well. I think of young men being killed and it affecting their parents, sisters, wives. I had never really appreciated how they had sometimes grown up together, they were watching their friends die. There’s one part, when one of the characters dies and Remarque writes:
“After a few minutes he sinks down like a rubber tyre when the air escapes. What use is it to him now that he was so good at mathematics at school?”

You cannot read this book and escape how awful war is and how pointless it can seem to the young soldiers who are actually fighting it. They often discuss why they are there, what they are achieving and they never really solve it. It’s interesting because they have no hatred for the enemy, they are just doing their duty, what is expected of them. They are angry but the anger is directed at the governments, the powers that caused the war. They see it as pointless.

I read a version I bought from Amazon which is part of ‘The Collector’s Library’. They are tiny hard backed books – perfect for having in your bag when forced on shopping trips with your family. I have a few of them. Have started reading ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ now. I have too many books really but I might want to re read them so am loathe to take them to the charity shop. Perhaps I will start loaning them to people, just to get them out of the house for a while. Everyone I meet I will take a book and tell them I thought they would like to read it. That should clear a few. Husband is keen to do the same with the cats….

I discovered that Husband has been sending son ‘how to be a good boyfriend’ advice. So much I could say here. Apparently he recommended he should start the relationship with a questionnaire, find out what she was expecting/willing to offer. Said he wishes he had thought of that thirty years ago. Ha!

At church yesterday, our Pastor started to introduce a new initiative for Lent. I find that Pastors like new initiatives. If you scratch the surface, they are exactly the same things that our mother and grandmother did, just in a different wrapping. But maybe we need to be reminded to keep doing the old stuff. Anyway, his idea is that instead of giving up something for Lent (no chocolate for forty days and so on) we should do something – specifically one act of random kindness for someone each day. I felt there might be potential in this, instantly thought people might find it helpful if I let them know in the weekly bulletin that I like Fruitgums. Husband said I was missing the point.

The examples given were things like giving a stranger loose change in the carpark, or buying a coffee for the next person in the queue. To be honest, if a stranger bought me coffee next time I’m in Costa, I would find it a little freaky. Do hope the whole church isn’t added to a police ‘watch’ list. However, I can see that being kind for no reason is a good aim, one we should probably do even when it isn’t Lent. Pastor then said we would share how we were getting on during Sunday services. Might be going to St Nicks during Lent.

I like your article about Parliament (http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.ca/2016/01/the-palace-of-westminster-tour.html) You managed to find out lots of facts about the building – unless you made them up? Hey Ruth, we should do that. Let’s do a tour of somewhere and then just make up our own facts, both put them on our blogs and wait to see if they ever get copied. Would be so funny. Aren’t you tempted to do that when you’re writing your educational books? I know I would be – maybe I should stick to writing fiction.

I had better go. I wanted to tell you about the book so am writing this in my pyjamas.

Take care,
Anne x

 

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Letters to a Sister are posted every Monday.
You can read my sister’s letters at:

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