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Monday, 8 February 2016

A 'Mudlark' at Heart!'

Last night, I watched a programme called 'Treasures of the Thames'. It was about people who search the bank (foreshore) of the river Thames, (in this case) for historical artefacts, like coins, jewellery, pots, or anything that might be important.

They purchase a licence to search and then go along with metal detectors or trowels to see what they can find. Obviously it can be dangerous because of the tides, and potential for catching illnesses like Wiles disease. I was totally fascinated!

It fits with my love of history and of all things abandoned. I rang a friend of mine, Mike, who has been metal detecting for years. everywhere from beaches to Roman villas, and civil war battle fields.

We had a really long chat about all the things he'd found - and I got butterflies in my stomach. He reminded me that there are the remains of a Roman villa fairly near to us, where they have done regular digs, and you can still see some of the colour on the mosaic tiles!

Unfortunately, it's only open to the public at certain times but I told hubby I was determined to go again. I went once when I was very young so I've only got vague memories of some very long grass and a birds nest.
Anyway, back to the programme. These treasure hunters are known as 'mudlarks' - (it sounds like they should be some sort of bird, doesn't it)?

Anything they find that they think might be over three hundred years old, they have to take to the Museum of London to register it, and have it valued. If the museum thinks it is 'special' enough or something they don't already have, they will buy it from the Mudlark or hope that they donate it.
There are drawers and drawers of things that have been found - from rings to pieces of clay tobacco pipe. One of the most common finds are dress pins from the eighteenth century. Apparently the people of Britain used millions of them, - as hair pins, dress pins, or general fastenings - before the days of buttons, zips and safety pins.

One of the most amazing things that was found during the filming of this programme though, was a medieval cannon ball. I think was found on the foreshore area just in front of the Tower of London. People aren't allowed to search there often and definitely not allowed to use trowels,spades or metal detectors because the erosion of the bank in that area is already particularly bad so they don't want to chance making it worse with modern tools. You have to search with 'eyes only'.

Ooh, I was so excitable! I watched it totally transfixed, willing them to find something new and important.

They were ecstatic over the cannonball and dated it as medieval. It's amazing what you can find washed in on the tide! Tiny, fragile things that you'd think would be easily broken up and long gone into the mists of time. still there - and often still in one piece!

The Mudlark's say it's not about the money, -it's about the chase. They say that so much is down to being in the right place at the right time. Due to the movements of the relentless tide, you could miss something by seconds. I think it's all about luck It's luck, with a few educated guesses thrown in - a bit like life is sometimes.

I can see how that might become addictive. Similar to how I used to feel in old record shops, car boot sales and second hand book stores. The feeling that something might be there just waiting for me to find it.

I ended up thinking I'd LOVE to do it - but I'm glad, (due to my Cerebral Palsy and being unable to walk or stand unaided) that I can't.

I dread to think what I'd bring home - and according to hubby I already own enough 'clutter'!  'Oi!'...I replied, 'What you call 'clutter', I call CD's, books, and gorgeous, pristine, beautiful notebooks! They are like treasure to me, but 
I've decided that I'm a 'Mudlark' at heart...!



Mudlark -Wikipedia Page:



















Image: Lino print - Globe, Tate Modern, mudlarking -via 'Pinterest'

#helenswriting

Tuesday, 2 February 2016

Childlessness and the Social Network




I wish social networks would spare me the impending motherhood,and 'Pampers' advertisements, plus all the baby and motherhood related apps springing up left,right and centre! 

I'm well aware of my age, gender, and that I 'should' be having a baby or 'should' be a Mum by now, but I can't ever be.  

Today alone, on a social network I've seen adverts for 'Momjunction', 'Mumsnet', 'Pampers', a brand of follow on milk, a week by week pregnancy tracker and 'Cow and Gate' baby food. It's so hard and frequently leaves me on the verge of tears.


I never once hit any ads that might make you think I would be interested in such things, so it is based purely on my age and gender.


I didn't choose not to be able to have children. I won't go into the whys and wherefores, but I'm surrounded by people who have done it, will do it, are doing it, with the greatest of ease. I do not need to be targeted by advertisers, as well.

I can't tell you how painful it is.


I have tried every single 'remove ads' app that you don't have to pay for, and guess what? They don't work for more than a week.


At this point I am seriously considering leaving social networks, because it's hard enough living in the real world, seeing pregnant women, babies, adverts about babies...and more babies. I don't need to be reminded of my failings any more than I already am, just because they want my money!


Unless this is happening to you, you have no idea what this feels like. It's like the whole world is privy to a secret that they won't let you in on - and no matter how hard I try to accept it, (and some days I even think I have), it doesn't take much to send me hurtling back to having a knot in my stomach or lumps in my throat, as I come face to computer screen with another image.

My situation has already put strain on my friendships, and in some cases I've lost them entirely, because when friends get pregnant - become parents, it hurts me so much, It's difficult on both sides, because quite rightly the life of the new parent is different. The pregnancy, baby, child becomes the centre of the world, and I'm the friend who can't identify with that.

I do all the right things. I stay off social networks on days when I don't think I'm going to be able to handle all these types of issues, - seeing a newly pregnant friends baby scan, the bump, to pictures of newborns and toddlers. It all hurts.  I keep my pain private and try with every fibre of my being not to resent people that have been luckier than I have, After all, it's not their fault that I can't ever be a Mum.

It's made worse by the fact that childlessness is such a taboo issue. It can feel so lonely, I've joined support groups of course, but I found that actually made things harder for me sometimes so I left them, - having decided that I needed to focus on what I could do. I want to make the best of my life, despite a lifelong disability to cope with as well. 

Not that talking about such a painful issue (with people who understand) doesn't help, it does -and we should absolutely be doing more to raise awareness so that people can be honest, (and they can feel a bit less like a misfit), but sometimes (for me anyway) it's all a bit overwhelming!


What I don't need, are any more reminders than I am already subjected to on a daily basis!Just because I am a thirty four year old female, advertisers target me and thus, rub salt in my wounds!


I want to remind people that there is more to life than having children - and the assumption that everybody can, wants to or has fulfilled their reproductive obligation, is incorrect, hurtful, - not to mention tedious!


It makes my battle to accept my situation a million times harder than it is already.










#helenswriting
#childlessness

(Image: Pinterest)


Monday, 1 February 2016

Words Can Hurt

Before you make assumptions,
Think about how it feels,
Before you make assumptions,
Ask me what's real.


Before you accuse me,
Learn about the facts,
Before you accuse me,
Ask if you'd do that?


Before you judge me,
Put yourself in my place,
Before you judge me,
Say it to my face!


Before you slander me,
Open your mind and be alert,
Before you slander me,
Remember words can hurt.








#helenswriting

(Image: 'Pinterest')

Tuesday, 26 January 2016

Lost...and Found

Autumn 1994.


'Please don't make me give it up'...I said, slowly kneeling to get from the floor to the sofa.

Molly sighed and looked over at me. 'I know how much you love it', she replied, 'but it's not good for you...'

It was my turn to sigh. 'Can't I just have one more year? I've hardly started...'
'If you have one more year, your hips will be worse. You've already said you're struggling with the pedal...'

'But I've just bought myself some proper sticks and brushes...'

'I know' she replied, putting her arm around me, 'but your hips and your knees will suffer, and I wouldn't be a very good physio if I let you carry on, would I?'I bit my lip, in an attempt to stop myself from crying - and failed!
'No...I know'
She handed me a tissue from a small packet in her handbag,
'I'm sorry'...
'It's not your fault' I said, as sobs, became hiccups.
'I just don't like having to stop you doing something that means so much to you...Will you need a letter for your teacher'?
'Probably', I muttered quietly, and hiccupped again.


It was a foggy Thursday morning when I left my maths lesson, and made the short journey in my wheelchair, across lower school playground to the dusty old portacabin.

 I got out of my chair, and struggled up the few wooden steps, in exactly the same way I had almost every Thursday morning for just over a year.

I swallowed, as I knocked lightly on the door, and a knot formed in my stomach.
'Come on in, Helen' Mr Clayton said, in the same slightly brusque way he always did.
'Hello', he smiled, and came over to help me get to the stool, 'have you got your sticks'?
'No...' I replied, so quietly that I could barely hear myself speak. I cleared my throat, 'I'm sorry. I came to tell you I can't play the drums any more. I have to stop my lessons'.

Mr Clayton leant against the desk, 'You were doing so well...' he told me sadly...
I smiled, although by this time, I had tears in my eyes,
'I wasn't. I was struggling with the pedals. My knees hurt, and my physio says I need to stop, but I really don't want to. I'm sorry....'
'Ah...I understand, but I'll be sorry to see you go...
'Maybe after surgery I can come back...' I replied hopefully, -even though I knew it wasn't realistic,
'I hope so', he replied, but I think he knew what I did - it wasn't really going to be possible.


He helped me down the stairs of the dusty portacabin, and I cried as I sat in my wheelchair, because I wanted to play the drums so badly, and it had become another thing I couldn't do.

Mr Clayton didn't see me cry, but as I began to push myself across the playground, he called out to me,
'Helen, - you can sing!  You love that, so do that instead. Take lessons - use what you already have! No one can take that from you'!
By the time I got back in, and down the corridor to my maths lesson, I was smiling again.
Top of Form




Bottom of Form


Image: 'Pinterest'.


#helenswriting 

Monday, 25 January 2016

Part of Me Wishes for Snow -(A Personal 'Stream of Consciousness Piece) -October 2012



Part of me wishes for snow. I love it when the world is covered in a white blanket. The warm tones of earth rest beneath.

I like to think that everything sleeps sometimes, but nature never sleeps. Instead it’s
always striving, colours and textures go on changing- from the falling of leaves to the bareness of trees, as another year passes by.

Part of me wishes for snow, because everything seems calm and timeless. I love to watch it fall from the night sky, like tiny gentle feathers. It feels like they float freely and land where they want to. It must be nice to do that. Until daylight, no one will stand on it, destroying the blanket with large, lasting footprints. Steps that are taken for granted.

Part of me wishes for snow, so that the Christmas lights reflect off it, and the firelight seems to burn brighter. Outside, nature carries on but I don't have to see it. I don't have to think about new lives beginning, sprouting afresh, the way nature is supposed to do.

Part of me wishes for snow, because I need that blanket too. I need to see civilisation stop, on the surface anyway. Stop striving, fighting, moving forward, making money. Everything that is usually at the edges of my vision has temporarily disappeared.

The world is at my level. It's flat and equal while we share the white blanket. No one else can move properly either! I can hear laughter and watch a snowball fight from the window. I love my hands around a mug of hot chocolate, and who knows? Maybe we'll toast marshmallows! I love the simple things, and outside, for now so do they. The world is mine tonight. 

Saturday, 19 December 2015

My Life


This isn't nothing,
This is my life!
I'm someone's daughter,
someone's wife.

Yes, I have a disability,
But that is only a part
Of me.

There are many things
That I can't do,
But I shouldn't have to answer
To you!

You can call me a 'scrounger'
Take my self-esteem,
But I won't let you take
My dreams.

We die in thousands,
You lie through the press,
Cause fear and nightmares,
And kill us, with stress!

Go ahead, take our money
Rip lives apart,
But I've never given up
And I'm not about to start!

You think it's acceptable
To add to our pain
Kick us as we're down,
So we can't get up again.

Your words will wound
Leave scars,like a knife
But I am not nothing,
And you don't get my life!








Thursday, 17 December 2015

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,

I have been a very naughty girl this year but it's all for a good cause, and I'm confessing in advance.

I've done my best to be nice - even to Tories (sometimes)! Surely that's worth a place on the 'nice' list! You have no idea how difficult that is...especially at the moment.

I've been quite restrained on Facebook, too! Not too much swearing,and I've managed to keep my 'inner bitch' fairly well in check. No (less than favourable) comments, about certain celebrities,either! - You will know, who I mean!

It is possible you might be under the impression that I drink too much wine, but I don't really - and anyway, I'm not the one who drinks all the alcohol left for me, (all around the world), during the course of one night, so, yeah,...pot, kettle!

 The real point of this letter though, is to say that I don't want anything for Christmas, other than a new government - one that cares about disabled people rather than hurts us, and destroys our lives.

I realise that it's very short notice, for you to arrange such a thing so I'll give you until...say...2020, (but much sooner, would be better) to sort that one out for me! We need all the help we can get, at the moment!

Maybe, in the meantime you could sprinkle some magic dust, in the direction of all those suffering at the hands of the government. Those hurt and made homeless by Bedroom Tax, left with next to nothing by unfair, (and heartless) benefit sanctions - masquerading as Welfare 'Reform'.

Help them try and hang on, just a little bit longer - and help me to do it too!

I will leave a 'no benefit sanctions', protest sign, next to your plate of mince pies, on Christmas Eve, - perhaps you could attach it to your sleigh, for me? You know what they say, 'Every Little Helps!'...Ahem,no, better not get started on that particular phrase, actually...!

Anyway, I know you're busy at this time of year, so I'll leave you to get on...

Travel safely,

Helen