Friday, July 2, 2021

JULY 2021 Journal entry.

July 25th

Derek the Hayle born flamingo
Well, this week, I've been on a two-day unplanned staycation.
Family have been here on holiday from Taunton.
I've spent a day on the beach and another at Paradise Park in Hayle.
Paradise Park truly lives up to its name.
It's paradise for all the family, not just children (wow! that sounds like some awful advertising slogan! Sorry about that).

The large colourful parrots are released at about 10.30 am for several hours of true freedom. 
Everywhere you look, there they are, up in the palm trees or perching on the aviaries of other birds (those less likely to voluntarily return home at the end of the day).
The variety of breathtakingly beautiful birds is joyous.
Then there are the owls, otters, eagles and rare red pandas to marvel at. 
We fed the goats and sheep after oohing and ahhing over the rabbits and guinea pigs. 
One stand out character made our day, Derek, the pink flamingo, born and raised at Paradise Park.
Anyway, that, and a day on the beach (when I actually went in for a swim!), proved better than any prescribed tonic.
The natural absorption of vitamin D (a heavy dose as it was super bright and hot) really helped eradicate some of the intense fatigue I've experienced from fibromyalgia.
Yes, I did slather myself in factor 50, although I forgot to spray some behind my ears, now that tender area's rather badly burned.
Did you get any writing done? I hear no one ask.
Well, yes, oddly enough, I did. 
I'm back at the beginning of the first draft as I've been stuck trying to figure out how it's all going to end.
Perfectly logical when you think about it... I need to go back to move forward.
Other news.
I believe the daily dose of oil of primrose is helping prevent further hair loss.
(Yes, burned my slightly balding scalp as well, didn't wear a sunhat, vanity, they just don't suit me).

July 16th


Hot! So very, very, hot.
Should you make the most of these rare gloriously hot summer days and abandon any idea of sitting in writing, or go outside and soak up the vitamin D while you can?
If I was employed in an office job or running a shop (both of which I have previous experience), then taking anything other than a few short holidays a year was not an option
So, if you're going to take writing seriously, I suppose you should treat it as a job, a proper job.
Of course, unless you're a well-known and successful writer, then in the eyes of others, you're just a lazy dreamer (with precocious ambitions).
To be honest, staying indoors is an easy option for me. 
I don't like the heat (or hanging around in the kitchen, which I get out of as often as I can, except at parties).
Unfortunately, my eldest son is huffing and puffing around in the same room as me right now and is keen to convey his agitated mood by throwing his mobile phone around while he waits for a telephone call.
I'll just try and work through the distraction and pretend I'm listening whilst he rehearses a conversation with the solicitors (who've been woefully dragging their feet over a matter of conveyance).

July 7th



The embers of the latest family feud are still hot to the touch, but the flame, diminished.
Which is good news for the key players (now emotionally exhausted), and the peripheral extras simply caught in the crossfire.
In my experience, you can only sustain heightened emotions for a certain length of time before losing all sense of time, day, and reason.
Anyway, I'm back working on the novel and enjoying some respite before the next, inevitable, family drama.
It's fodder for a good story, my mum said, but, no, it's not, it's a boring and an unwelcome distraction.
I'm now trying to build the all-important big finale to my new book before returning to the first chapter and working on a second draft.
Other updates...
For those with any interest at all in my alopecia, I can report that the daily dose of oil of primrose (in capsule form), seems to have made a noticeable difference. Also, I'm doing more shoulder stands during my morning yoga sessions so that some blood will rush to my foggy head and stimulate the hair follicles.
Well, it's worth a try. My hair seems thicker, it really does.
For anyone interested in my sons rescheduled cornea transplant at Bristol Eye Hospital, mid-August is the new date. This is cornea transplant number two. The first went fairly well, so we're optimistic. He has advanced Keratoconus Link to details and a cataract that needs removing. M takes all this in his stride. Dealing with acute eczema, which has covered his body and face since he was a baby, has been harder to deal with.
When I'm not physically writing, I'm writing in my head, as I'm sure all writers do.
On my way to my mothers the other morning, I realised that I was stuck on the final chapters of my first draft because there was a missing ingredient. Having figured out what the missing ingredient is... another angle, character, and plot twist, I'm now up and running again.
I've also been on eBay, selling off some old 1970's and 80's comics that my husband bought for his vintage shop. Any that looked particularly interesting I googled for a price guide and set aside. We've hit gold on one as it seems to be worth over a hundred pounds, and it's already at £85 with two days of the auction still to go. I know, exciting stuff.
Talking of gold, I nearly gave up on eBay altogether the other week as I'd put up for auction an old gold watch of my mums. The watch attracted a fair amount of attention, far more than I had expected. Then I found out why. I was selling a watch, and unfortunately, the bidders were buying it for the gold value. To cut a long story short, the buyer was unhappy when the watch arrived and he found it lighter in grams than expected.
Threats of bad feedback and a demand for a refund sullied the sale. Both seller (me), and the buyer, were left feeling hoodwinked and unhappy.
Ugly accusations were left (in capital letters), as negative feedback. 
However, there was a happy ending.
With messages batted back and forth, we both defended our respective corners until a compromise was reached. I think we even rather liked and respected each other by the end of it. The negative feedback was graciously removed by its author and a compromise, in the form of a partial refund, concluded the transaction.
Anyway, I'm going to steer well clear of the gold market as I know nothing about it. 
A comic's just a comic, and any interested party has been warned of rust bleed around the staples and a rich, musty smell that comes free of charge with every purchase.
That's this week wrapped up.
Nothing of any significance has happened and, as I don't have any interest in football, England's progress has failed to excite me. Still, if others get that feel-good factor from recent sporting events, then great, we are all in need of that feel-good factor.

July 2nd

It's been a week of time-consuming family feuding and home improvements.
As with all suppressed embitterments, they can only fester for so long, (over twenty years in this case), and if the person who's festering, starts drinking gin with the inflictor of that unhealed wound, then the plasters going to come off and a venomous puss ooze forth... Which it did.
Fortunately, I am neither the injured party nor the accused, so, in one sense, I'm well out of it (for a change), but I'm not.
This is a family matter and my role, on this occasion, is as mediator.
Messages have been batted back and forth and I hope to find a workable peace treaty, in time.
As feuds go, it's a biggy, involving money.
Anyway, I shall say no more, but it's been a while since my phone has rung so persistently with accusations and recriminations bouncing back and forth across the airwaves.
Time and remorse on one side, and the other, will need to take place for both parties to move on.
Reconciliation is not around the corner, it's up the motorway and round the bend.
In the brief intervals when my ear has not been pressed to the smartphone ( and I still don't believe the caller will hear me if I hold the phone more than two inches from my mouth), I've torn up the old stair carpet... yes, very therapeutic.
The bare wood beneath was not as lovely as I might have hoped and rustic was the word that sprung to mind as I sat on a pile of grubby underlay and surveyed the exposed risers and treads.
As I don't have a new stair carpet to hand, I've decided to maintain the rustic and simply go for that distressed look you achieve with a wash of paint here and there. 
I found two tins of out of date paint in the cupboard and now I'm upstairs, unable to go downstairs until it dries.
There's only an hour left before my eldest son arrives, ready to bound up the stairs and leave his massive size twelve-footprints on every tread.
Time is of the essence and the paints just started to go tacky (in keeping with the overall effect).
At least the cats have remained comatose on the sofa, well out of the way. The last time I painted the hall floor they suddenly felt the urge to run all over it in a frenzy of confusion and excitement, thus, leaving imprints of their paw prints all over the landing carpet and beyond.
So, what I'm getting at here is, no, I haven't written anything this week.
I'm being held hostage to drama, rather than having a chance to write any.
Mind you, this is writing, so I guess I've done something.
Emotions can only run so high for so long and next week should be calmer unless someone does themselves an injury falling down the rustic steps.

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