How do I write this without getting bogged in detail? My dream of yonder night, where I was pregnant in some kind of execution quad and two Asian people appeared before me.
Saturday..I take my son to Kung Fu. The centre is near Papier Mache Towers where I used to live. I decide that I will go there as my doctor sent a letter there - tell the new occupants of the flat to forward any post that comes in (there is more to this but that's what I mean about getting bogged down)
I pop into the my old Hairdresser first to wish SuperMario a happy new year and settle down with a cup of coffee. I read page 15 of Thursday's Daily Express - ooh the day I wrote to the Chancellor - Somalians claiming £2000 a week in rent. The trotted line of people living in luxury flats hardworking people can't afford. No balance in the article about the need for more social housing.
Pick up my son, go to Papier Mache Towers. New occupants aren't in but the neighbours - the couple who got the flat I bid on and didn't get - are there. Flip, just this little story is too massive actually... I give you bones ok?
She tells me she was two years waiting. "Refuse temporary". I refused temporary too..I didn't get a flat. She, her husband and child viewed SEVEN flats. In the same time frame, I viewed NONE. I wish her and her family well though, and I leave.
LIGHTBULB MOMENT
My dream! In 2010, I mentioned this family in my CNJ article. One of two shortlisted that day. How 500 points after 2 years when my son and I were 350 after 7?
If, if if if if if, they agree to give me the breakdown of their points, a lawyer might take my case for discrimination. Take my case that the system is flawed, unfair.
Oh my heart!
I recall the film documentary maker who bumped into me on Friday morning. I turned down the chance to be in a programme later aired as "Pramface" but he took down my number again anyway.
What if if if if.
Wow. With this couple's help, I can take on the local council and with the documentary maker's input, we turn the story into a national one, which it is, and keep social housing high in the political eye.
I feel sick with desire, feel sick with hope.
I drop my son off at a party. I go back to the Hairdresser, tear out the Daily Express article. Go back to the couple at Papier Mache Towers.
The mother invites me in. I speak slowly to be understood, and she does, she does understand. "Don't be frightened I say, you won't lose your home." "Council no happy," she says. "I will protect you," I answer.
She says her husband is at work, he makes the decisions. "Talk to him," I say. "You don't have to decide now. I will go to the law centre, get advice. You know, I don't plan these things. Three days ago a lawyer's card fell out of a box when I was cleaning and I throw it away! Please help me, please. You will be helping everyone."
Later I got really depressed. Really, Really Down. Don't think that they won't help, don't think that they won't help they won't help they won't help don't think they won't help they will help they will help
I didn't help myself though..well I did..helped myself to Al Cohol but that isn't exactly what sees us through
Is it?
Showing posts with label Coincidences. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Coincidences. Show all posts
Monday, 9 January 2012
Monday, 19 December 2011
Conversation with handsome man on the tube
Jumping on a northern line train, late at night
"Not being funny," I say to a handsome man in a red jacket sitting next to me. "This is exactly the same seat I was sitting on three hours ago when I took the train into town."
Looks at me with a faint smile...
"Yeah, really," I continue. "This Glamour flyer was on this seat, just like it was on this seat just now, where I left it!"
"Maybe it's telling you something," says the man. He had a slight antipodean accent, hmmm, nice looking guy!
"Telling me..." I look at the flyer again offering six issues for a pound plus a free gift.. "Sorry Glamour, I can't be arsed. You know what though," turning back to the good looking man. "It's almost like when you say 'Stop the world, I want to get off,' then you get back on exactly where you left, though, different perspective..maybe...."
"This'll blow your mind," he says. "That ticket was actually on my seat. I moved it onto yours."
"Oh really? Maybe the person who came on after me moved it onto your seat and then you moved it back...."
"Maybe you were sitting here," he says.
"Hmmm, was I? No. No I wasn't, I was definitely sitting here!" and laughing I grab the pole with my left hand as though clutching onto it for dear life.
Then with perfect timing, before I could make a total idiot of myself, the train reached my destination.
"This is me! A very merry Christmas and nice talking to you!"
"Nice talking to you too! Merry Christmas!"
I didn't look back and oh flip, I just realised I didn't look in the Metro today to see if he'd left me a message. Darn! Oh well, he wasn't meant to be!
"Not being funny," I say to a handsome man in a red jacket sitting next to me. "This is exactly the same seat I was sitting on three hours ago when I took the train into town."
Looks at me with a faint smile...
"Yeah, really," I continue. "This Glamour flyer was on this seat, just like it was on this seat just now, where I left it!"
"Maybe it's telling you something," says the man. He had a slight antipodean accent, hmmm, nice looking guy!
"Telling me..." I look at the flyer again offering six issues for a pound plus a free gift.. "Sorry Glamour, I can't be arsed. You know what though," turning back to the good looking man. "It's almost like when you say 'Stop the world, I want to get off,' then you get back on exactly where you left, though, different perspective..maybe...."
"This'll blow your mind," he says. "That ticket was actually on my seat. I moved it onto yours."
"Oh really? Maybe the person who came on after me moved it onto your seat and then you moved it back...."
"Maybe you were sitting here," he says.
"Hmmm, was I? No. No I wasn't, I was definitely sitting here!" and laughing I grab the pole with my left hand as though clutching onto it for dear life.
Then with perfect timing, before I could make a total idiot of myself, the train reached my destination.
"This is me! A very merry Christmas and nice talking to you!"
"Nice talking to you too! Merry Christmas!"
I didn't look back and oh flip, I just realised I didn't look in the Metro today to see if he'd left me a message. Darn! Oh well, he wasn't meant to be!
Monday, 3 October 2011
I'm off to hear Lorna Byrne speak!
Hello hello stigs!! Hello to you too person reading this!
My, I've missed blogging but had no time as the Dream Job was keeping me well busy and I was well too tired to blog aswell despite the temptations and urges.
Could have come back to it any old way today as it's been a mighty blog about fortnight.
Support worker came round and said I was.. feck, whatever, I'll remember the word in a minute..
Got a letter from housing benefit saying the payments had stopped because I was no longer in receipt of income support or Jobseekers allowance (I was told if you remember, that it would be a 'smooth transition')
The letter from housing benefit had a new claim form I had to fill in with my whole life in blue or black ink. I was working full time, had my circumstances changed? Yeah! I was working for free not being paid, had my circumstances changed? Um, no! I didn't know what to do but all friends told me not to be honest and say I was working, but tell them nothing at all.
The Dream Job... Well... A week ago last Friday he sent a text saying "It's not working". His cc'd mother replied: "Hunh?" and I replied to all: "Yes, what do you mean?" and am still awaiting his response.
Have I been fired again without being told?
Is this the way with welfare recipients?
If I'm back to blogging I'll fill you in..well about Dream Job at any rate. Still hurting but they say that if things don't work out it's because something better is coming along.
Yeah? Got turned down for a job on a housing magazine on my son's birthday and had to sign over to Jobseekers Allowance the following day.
It's good to cry. So I took my tears to the Church of the Immaculate Conception and said "Thank you for my son" and when I'd stopped crying lit four candles.
Lorna Byrne is in London this evening. You may know her, she's been able to see and communicate with angels all her life and wrote her very beautiful autobiography "Angels in my Hair".
I feel very lucky. She's an incredible woman. I knew she was here tonight but had no sitter and £25 a ticket also seemed excessive (Oh the draught...)
"Maybe it's to pay for the hall," said my mum at the weekend.
I texted my mate Charlie: "Hate to ask but are you free Monday..."
Privileged. That's what the support worker said I was when he closed my homeless household support case. People aren't as privileged as me, he said.
Lorna Byrne will tell us, I'm guessing, through her interview with a journalist, that we all have a guardian angel and that there are millions of unemployed angels all crying out for us to ask them for help.
Yes I am privileged.
We are all privileged
We don't all know that though.
I want to take a more spiritual path from now on. I need to, it's a much happier route the one looking out for positive coincidences (like free Monday night babysitters and a mother who said she'd buy my seminar ticket:)).
I don't know what thrust my blogging will take but quite probably what it says on the tin - single mother on benefit, parasite bleeding the state dry....Which I'm not, we're not..you know that now don't you?
Stigmum drives this
I am just her conduit.
Have a lovely afternoon this blazing hot, blue skied, sunny October afternoon! (Been crazy hasn't it?!)
My, I've missed blogging but had no time as the Dream Job was keeping me well busy and I was well too tired to blog aswell despite the temptations and urges.
Could have come back to it any old way today as it's been a mighty blog about fortnight.
Support worker came round and said I was.. feck, whatever, I'll remember the word in a minute..
Got a letter from housing benefit saying the payments had stopped because I was no longer in receipt of income support or Jobseekers allowance (I was told if you remember, that it would be a 'smooth transition')
The letter from housing benefit had a new claim form I had to fill in with my whole life in blue or black ink. I was working full time, had my circumstances changed? Yeah! I was working for free not being paid, had my circumstances changed? Um, no! I didn't know what to do but all friends told me not to be honest and say I was working, but tell them nothing at all.
The Dream Job... Well... A week ago last Friday he sent a text saying "It's not working". His cc'd mother replied: "Hunh?" and I replied to all: "Yes, what do you mean?" and am still awaiting his response.
Have I been fired again without being told?
Is this the way with welfare recipients?
If I'm back to blogging I'll fill you in..well about Dream Job at any rate. Still hurting but they say that if things don't work out it's because something better is coming along.
Yeah? Got turned down for a job on a housing magazine on my son's birthday and had to sign over to Jobseekers Allowance the following day.
It's good to cry. So I took my tears to the Church of the Immaculate Conception and said "Thank you for my son" and when I'd stopped crying lit four candles.
Lorna Byrne is in London this evening. You may know her, she's been able to see and communicate with angels all her life and wrote her very beautiful autobiography "Angels in my Hair".
I feel very lucky. She's an incredible woman. I knew she was here tonight but had no sitter and £25 a ticket also seemed excessive (Oh the draught...)
"Maybe it's to pay for the hall," said my mum at the weekend.
I texted my mate Charlie: "Hate to ask but are you free Monday..."
Privileged. That's what the support worker said I was when he closed my homeless household support case. People aren't as privileged as me, he said.
Lorna Byrne will tell us, I'm guessing, through her interview with a journalist, that we all have a guardian angel and that there are millions of unemployed angels all crying out for us to ask them for help.
Yes I am privileged.
We are all privileged
We don't all know that though.
I want to take a more spiritual path from now on. I need to, it's a much happier route the one looking out for positive coincidences (like free Monday night babysitters and a mother who said she'd buy my seminar ticket:)).
I don't know what thrust my blogging will take but quite probably what it says on the tin - single mother on benefit, parasite bleeding the state dry....Which I'm not, we're not..you know that now don't you?
Stigmum drives this
I am just her conduit.
Have a lovely afternoon this blazing hot, blue skied, sunny October afternoon! (Been crazy hasn't it?!)
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
Joining a housing campaign
Wouldn't you know, yesterday after posting that I was abandoning my cause, I got an email from Defend Council Housing asking if people could join their campaign.
I've been tidying up my house today, in preparation for a fantastic job.
I shall email them back tomorrow.
I like coincidences, they are always full of promise.
A pity there's no payment for I'm not looking foward to signing on every two weeks.
With any luck I won't have to!
Something will come up and come up soon!
I've been tidying up my house today, in preparation for a fantastic job.
I shall email them back tomorrow.
I like coincidences, they are always full of promise.
A pity there's no payment for I'm not looking foward to signing on every two weeks.
With any luck I won't have to!
Something will come up and come up soon!
Monday, 14 March 2011
Dreams of 2012 - Horizon's Armageddon
Back in January, just following the earthquake in Pakistan, I had a dream (a dream? a nightmare?) that the world was ending. The Mayan prediction that in 2012 the world would end crashed into my sleep unconsciousness where I was told, get this, I was told to watch the Hollywood blockbuster "2012"
Why the fuck would I do that? I asked my dream. Earthquakes in Pakistan, Haiti, dead birds falling from the sky in America, I do not need to watch some disaster movie.
You need to learn to live in the present moment, said the dream. You have to learn to live now and make the most of every moment.
The next day, coincidentally, Sainsbury's was selling the "2012" dvd for £3 and there was only one copy left. So I bought it. And no, I haven't watched it. With recents events in Japan where a whole town has been wiped out and 10,000 people are missing...
BBC 4 are airing "A Horizon Guide to Armageddon". On Thursday, at 9pm. Well it wasn't to know I suppose. "A depressing kind of greatest hits from Horizon" says the Sunday Times critics choice. "..a guide to the end of the world that will make any little human worries seem trivial," it continues.
Climate change, destruction of the Gulf Stream, asteroids from space, "Supervolcanoes, influenza, nuclear war: the possibilities aren't so much endless as horribly final."
There is comfort apparently; Scientists are busy working on our ensuring our planet's survival.
Having failed to watch 2012, I may tune into this.
Live in this moment. Live NOW. NOW NOW NOW. This second. Arse on a cushion on the floor fingers tapping on the keyboard blue sky visible through the window. Right now I am safe. I hope you are too.
Why the fuck would I do that? I asked my dream. Earthquakes in Pakistan, Haiti, dead birds falling from the sky in America, I do not need to watch some disaster movie.
You need to learn to live in the present moment, said the dream. You have to learn to live now and make the most of every moment.
The next day, coincidentally, Sainsbury's was selling the "2012" dvd for £3 and there was only one copy left. So I bought it. And no, I haven't watched it. With recents events in Japan where a whole town has been wiped out and 10,000 people are missing...
BBC 4 are airing "A Horizon Guide to Armageddon". On Thursday, at 9pm. Well it wasn't to know I suppose. "A depressing kind of greatest hits from Horizon" says the Sunday Times critics choice. "..a guide to the end of the world that will make any little human worries seem trivial," it continues.
Climate change, destruction of the Gulf Stream, asteroids from space, "Supervolcanoes, influenza, nuclear war: the possibilities aren't so much endless as horribly final."
There is comfort apparently; Scientists are busy working on our ensuring our planet's survival.
Having failed to watch 2012, I may tune into this.
Live in this moment. Live NOW. NOW NOW NOW. This second. Arse on a cushion on the floor fingers tapping on the keyboard blue sky visible through the window. Right now I am safe. I hope you are too.
Monday, 18 October 2010
Weekend coincidences
Subject: You, me and John Bird
Hi [Network Founder],
I usually ask people if it's ok to call them by their first name but I didn't even look at yours as I stuffed your business card in my pocket thinking 'must think about this one' when I met you on Saturday in Kentish Town.
I let go of ever meeting John Bird last year which didn't stop me inwardly cringeing when I saw a charity walk in the Big Issue magazine, thinking he might think I was trying to curry favour with him if I did it. Fortunately I soon got over myself and had a great night!
You saying you had lunch with him on Friday and offering to arrange another including me was, well, quite unexpected to say the least.
I told you I wasn't sure I had anything to say or ask him anymore but I could be wrong.
I would welcome to have lunch with you both if you both agree.
Let me know (as I listen to Rod Steward's "Sailing", free with the (e)Mail on Sunday this morning!) One must follow coincidences now and then for you never know what positive things might come out of them.
Kind regards,
Sue de Nim
Political parties were out in force Saturday morning canvassing for a by-election in a couple of weeks time.
As I walked over to the Tory table for some bumph I said: "I am totally opposed to your party!"
Quite extraordinary what can come out of saying something like that.....
Network Founder asked me what I thought of the coalition and I said "I don't know."
I Don't Know?
You get the email I sent because I just can't tell a story any more...I'n't that right Doris?
Hi [Network Founder],
I usually ask people if it's ok to call them by their first name but I didn't even look at yours as I stuffed your business card in my pocket thinking 'must think about this one' when I met you on Saturday in Kentish Town.
I let go of ever meeting John Bird last year which didn't stop me inwardly cringeing when I saw a charity walk in the Big Issue magazine, thinking he might think I was trying to curry favour with him if I did it. Fortunately I soon got over myself and had a great night!
You saying you had lunch with him on Friday and offering to arrange another including me was, well, quite unexpected to say the least.
I told you I wasn't sure I had anything to say or ask him anymore but I could be wrong.
I would welcome to have lunch with you both if you both agree.
Let me know (as I listen to Rod Steward's "Sailing", free with the (e)Mail on Sunday this morning!) One must follow coincidences now and then for you never know what positive things might come out of them.
Kind regards,
Sue de Nim
Political parties were out in force Saturday morning canvassing for a by-election in a couple of weeks time.
As I walked over to the Tory table for some bumph I said: "I am totally opposed to your party!"
Quite extraordinary what can come out of saying something like that.....
Network Founder asked me what I thought of the coalition and I said "I don't know."
I Don't Know?
You get the email I sent because I just can't tell a story any more...I'n't that right Doris?
Friday, 27 August 2010
A coincidence to make a boy's dream come true?
The joy to be reunited with my son earlier today. The tooth fairy left him a pound he said! I'm so glad to be with you mummy, he said as he held my hand on the walk home.
"You know you said you want to write to David Cameron?" I asked him.
"Yes."
"Do you want to write it when we get home so I can send it while you're at your dads?"
"Yes! Then can we watch Tom and Jerry together?"
"Sure!"
A letter on the doormat as we walked through the door. Addressed to me, I looked at the back of it and read "10 Downing Street".
I laughed, I whooped! "Son! You're writing your letter today just as I get a response to the one I wrote!"
I carefully opened the envelope.
Dear Ms de Nim,
The Prime Minister has asked me to thank you for your letter of 17 July requesting a meeting with him to discuss your son's future.
The PM was sorry to hear about your problems but owing to the enormous pressures on his diary I am unable to arrange a meeting.
I am sorry for the disappointing nature of my reply; however we do hope you understand. May I suggest that you get in touch with the the [sic] Minister of State for Housing and Local Government. I am sure [the MP] would be interested to hear from you.
Yours sincerely,
A Woman
Woooo! Silver linings to catch!!
I told my son he could write whatever he wanted, but to write it from his heart.
I read it now and it's so beautiful, so simple. The beauty of it is his handwriting, the spelling mistakes (yours sincirily)!! (P.S Please don't worry about my spelling because I am only 7.)
I have to write one to go with it. My son's signed it 'Sue's son' and we don't want the PM wondering 'who's Sue' now do we?!
Yes Stiggers, I shall write from my heart too.
"You know you said you want to write to David Cameron?" I asked him.
"Yes."
"Do you want to write it when we get home so I can send it while you're at your dads?"
"Yes! Then can we watch Tom and Jerry together?"
"Sure!"
A letter on the doormat as we walked through the door. Addressed to me, I looked at the back of it and read "10 Downing Street".
I laughed, I whooped! "Son! You're writing your letter today just as I get a response to the one I wrote!"
I carefully opened the envelope.
Dear Ms de Nim,
The Prime Minister has asked me to thank you for your letter of 17 July requesting a meeting with him to discuss your son's future.
The PM was sorry to hear about your problems but owing to the enormous pressures on his diary I am unable to arrange a meeting.
I am sorry for the disappointing nature of my reply; however we do hope you understand. May I suggest that you get in touch with the the [sic] Minister of State for Housing and Local Government. I am sure [the MP] would be interested to hear from you.
Yours sincerely,
A Woman
Woooo! Silver linings to catch!!
I told my son he could write whatever he wanted, but to write it from his heart.
I read it now and it's so beautiful, so simple. The beauty of it is his handwriting, the spelling mistakes (yours sincirily)!! (P.S Please don't worry about my spelling because I am only 7.)
I have to write one to go with it. My son's signed it 'Sue's son' and we don't want the PM wondering 'who's Sue' now do we?!
Yes Stiggers, I shall write from my heart too.
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
Martha, Mary and the Human Robot
I emailed allocations to say my new support worker didn't turn up. OK, I'm a bit of a tell tale tit but for good reason. That housing plan interview doesn't take place and I'm suspended off the housing register.
A bit freaky though - a woman outside supermario's hairdresser yesterday said she'd say a prayer for me that when he did turn up he wouldn't judge me.
I hope he's alright, no nasty accidents befallen him....
I was going to tell him the story of Martha and Mary if he did comment on the mess, say I was Mary.
Do you know that story? Jesus goes round to their house and while Martha's busying herself with everything she needs to do, Mary's just sitting at the Lord's feet listening to what he's saying and well, Martha gets a bit pissed off.
"'Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.'
"But the Lord answered her, 'Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is a need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken from her." (Luke 10.38-42)
On Sunday my son and I went to mass at the 'other' School, like he'd asked a month ago. The priest said it was ok to come, he didn't want to 'poach' us from the our usual School though.
While he was reading the Gospel a young man passed out and hit his head on the pew. The priest stared at me but then, I was standing right next to him, so mustn't be too freaked out by that.
That School gives print outs of the readings so you don't doze off in the service, you can read along. That's the coincidence I saw in reading it to the council's human robot.
Now that woman's prayer for me yesterday that I wouldn't be judged today?
I hope you're alright Mr Support Worker. I'm sure you are and there's a very reasonable explanation for your no show, like you forgot or another 'client' kept you busy.
Let me know, yeah?
A bit freaky though - a woman outside supermario's hairdresser yesterday said she'd say a prayer for me that when he did turn up he wouldn't judge me.
I hope he's alright, no nasty accidents befallen him....
I was going to tell him the story of Martha and Mary if he did comment on the mess, say I was Mary.
Do you know that story? Jesus goes round to their house and while Martha's busying herself with everything she needs to do, Mary's just sitting at the Lord's feet listening to what he's saying and well, Martha gets a bit pissed off.
"'Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.'
"But the Lord answered her, 'Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is a need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken from her." (Luke 10.38-42)
On Sunday my son and I went to mass at the 'other' School, like he'd asked a month ago. The priest said it was ok to come, he didn't want to 'poach' us from the our usual School though.
While he was reading the Gospel a young man passed out and hit his head on the pew. The priest stared at me but then, I was standing right next to him, so mustn't be too freaked out by that.
That School gives print outs of the readings so you don't doze off in the service, you can read along. That's the coincidence I saw in reading it to the council's human robot.
Now that woman's prayer for me yesterday that I wouldn't be judged today?
I hope you're alright Mr Support Worker. I'm sure you are and there's a very reasonable explanation for your no show, like you forgot or another 'client' kept you busy.
Let me know, yeah?
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
P = Postbox
In the ward of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John there is a red postbox.
This is a coincidence I found quite funny, that I was acting in accordance with the Bible (am I? Don't think so!) I told my son but he didn't get it!
Good job, really. Don't want him growing up saying "My mum's a nutter!"
(I don't call my mum a nutter, I call her 'hardcore')
This is a coincidence I found quite funny, that I was acting in accordance with the Bible (am I? Don't think so!) I told my son but he didn't get it!
Good job, really. Don't want him growing up saying "My mum's a nutter!"
(I don't call my mum a nutter, I call her 'hardcore')
P = Photocopying
I liked the postcard I sent them. I bought it for me, not to send to anyone, so I figured I should photocopy it, then I will still always have it!
I thought I'd photocopy the words too as a memento
me·men·to
[muh-men-toh]
–noun, plural -tos, -toes.
1.
an object or item that serves to remind one of a person, past event, etc.; keepsake; souvenir.
2.
anything serving as a reminder or warning.
3.
( initial capital letter, italics ) Roman Catholic Church . either of two prayers in the canon of the Mass, one for persons living and the other for persons dead.
Just popped into Google to check it really was me and not ma and saw the meaning No 3. I never knew that.
Well, I am currently reliving Sunday as I post this aren't I, which makes it a coincidence!
To finish to my sentence (before I was interrupted!) I copied the words as a memento so I always recall my bravery that day (with a little bit of stupidity chucked in!).
How could it be ma? Doh! Memory!
I thought I'd photocopy the words too as a memento
me·men·to
[muh-men-toh]
–noun, plural -tos, -toes.
1.
an object or item that serves to remind one of a person, past event, etc.; keepsake; souvenir.
2.
anything serving as a reminder or warning.
3.
( initial capital letter, italics ) Roman Catholic Church . either of two prayers in the canon of the Mass, one for persons living and the other for persons dead.
Just popped into Google to check it really was me and not ma and saw the meaning No 3. I never knew that.
Well, I am currently reliving Sunday as I post this aren't I, which makes it a coincidence!
To finish to my sentence (before I was interrupted!) I copied the words as a memento so I always recall my bravery that day (with a little bit of stupidity chucked in!).
How could it be ma? Doh! Memory!
P = Plans
I wrote the draft of my message to Government on the back of a "Saturdays" postcard which was laying about, you know them, that Girl Band, when I hadn't fully formulated my plan in my mind. It was still just an idea.
I didn't know how many I should send. Just one postcard? Or one every day until they paid attention or a postman intercepted it?
I didn't know who it should be from. Should I do it from a newspaper? Two, three, four newspapers? Broadcasters? Snow lives in Kentish Town, apparently. Should I put my name on it? Should I leave it blank?
That's when Stiggers got me giggling last thursday night, stamping my little size 4 feet on my springy mattress.
I should send it from Frank Dobson and the Miliband Brothers!
My how I laughed in those early hours! They sounded like a jazz ensemble!
My meeting was with Frank Dobson on Saturday morning. I should send it the following day, not straight after it, I should be sure I knew what I was doing but not leave it too long.
My son alerted me to a coincidence. He quite made my day!
As for a plan, I have no plan! It's unfolded itself infront of me right from the beginning.
I am going with the flow!
I didn't know how many I should send. Just one postcard? Or one every day until they paid attention or a postman intercepted it?
I didn't know who it should be from. Should I do it from a newspaper? Two, three, four newspapers? Broadcasters? Snow lives in Kentish Town, apparently. Should I put my name on it? Should I leave it blank?
That's when Stiggers got me giggling last thursday night, stamping my little size 4 feet on my springy mattress.
I should send it from Frank Dobson and the Miliband Brothers!
My how I laughed in those early hours! They sounded like a jazz ensemble!
My meeting was with Frank Dobson on Saturday morning. I should send it the following day, not straight after it, I should be sure I knew what I was doing but not leave it too long.
My son alerted me to a coincidence. He quite made my day!
As for a plan, I have no plan! It's unfolded itself infront of me right from the beginning.
I am going with the flow!
P = Pinch, Punch
We walk out of church and my son squeezes my arm then bashes me on it saying:
"Pinch Punch, fourth day of the month!"
"Argh, you're meant to do that on the....is it? Is it the fourth of the month?"
"Yes mamma."
"I can't believe it!"
"What mamma?"
"It's Independence Day in America!"
"What's independence mamma?"
"It's another word for freedom! It means freedom baby!"
"Pinch Punch, fourth day of the month!"
"Argh, you're meant to do that on the....is it? Is it the fourth of the month?"
"Yes mamma."
"I can't believe it!"
"What mamma?"
"It's Independence Day in America!"
"What's independence mamma?"
"It's another word for freedom! It means freedom baby!"
Tuesday, 6 July 2010
P = Pear and Pineapple
Quite a thirst walking through Camden saturday morning.
Juice. I really wanted some juice. Maybe I should pop into Sainsbury's and buy some fruit.
Juicy Fruit! "Strawberries!" I said to my son. "Plums!"
I figured he must be hungry, I certainly was. Let's go to Toasties where a homeless man once gave me a fiver for the Big Issue Walk and another time, another man, told me to leave my spare eviction story (for I'd just sent Cameron and Clegg a copy) in the Dublin Castle next door for the guy who had recently become my local councillor.
Closed.
Not closed as in not open yet, but closed down.
Oh no.
Opposite was a juice bar. I'd forgotten about that! Still oh no about Toasties.
I needed something refreshing. Oh choices, choices!! I liked the sound of Orange and Strawberry, but then Pear and Pineapple...Oooh, Pomegranite Plan in full swing, do I drink a drink beginning with P or just sod it, for goodness sake, fruit is any fruit in a Fruit Bowl.
My son had strawberry. The man said that Pear and Pineapple was "more refreshing" than Orange and Strawberry so that's what I went for.
What music was playing meanwhile?
The Cure! Isn't there a "saturday wait" lyric in Friday I'm In Love?!
On whose doorstep did we sit to drink?
An estate agent of all bloody places called "Live and let live" ("Student Prices - From £300 pw for a 2 bed... yeah right, not a stigmum price is it?)
Where were we?
Why! On Parkway!
I had a vague feeling I was going a bit doolally I was so lightheaded and was really so very grateful my son was with me.
My son my sun my boy my buoy
Juice. I really wanted some juice. Maybe I should pop into Sainsbury's and buy some fruit.
Juicy Fruit! "Strawberries!" I said to my son. "Plums!"
I figured he must be hungry, I certainly was. Let's go to Toasties where a homeless man once gave me a fiver for the Big Issue Walk and another time, another man, told me to leave my spare eviction story (for I'd just sent Cameron and Clegg a copy) in the Dublin Castle next door for the guy who had recently become my local councillor.
Closed.
Not closed as in not open yet, but closed down.
Oh no.
Opposite was a juice bar. I'd forgotten about that! Still oh no about Toasties.
I needed something refreshing. Oh choices, choices!! I liked the sound of Orange and Strawberry, but then Pear and Pineapple...Oooh, Pomegranite Plan in full swing, do I drink a drink beginning with P or just sod it, for goodness sake, fruit is any fruit in a Fruit Bowl.
My son had strawberry. The man said that Pear and Pineapple was "more refreshing" than Orange and Strawberry so that's what I went for.
What music was playing meanwhile?
The Cure! Isn't there a "saturday wait" lyric in Friday I'm In Love?!
On whose doorstep did we sit to drink?
An estate agent of all bloody places called "Live and let live" ("Student Prices - From £300 pw for a 2 bed... yeah right, not a stigmum price is it?)
Where were we?
Why! On Parkway!
I had a vague feeling I was going a bit doolally I was so lightheaded and was really so very grateful my son was with me.
My son my sun my boy my buoy
F = French Revolution
Just scrolling down to see how many posts I've written this month I see that it's 14!
July (14)!
Has my Postcard stormed Parliament today?!
This is the 15th post, clearly, but I had to share my little giggle!
Hee hee hee!
July (14)!
Has my Postcard stormed Parliament today?!
This is the 15th post, clearly, but I had to share my little giggle!
Hee hee hee!
Friday, 25 June 2010
The Pomegranite Plan
The Pomegranite - the last fruit in the fruit bowl.
The Pomegranite Plan - all the P's
Postcards
Prime Minister
People
Pounds
Press
Earlier this week I emailed a gentleman asking if I could meet him for some advice. The plan wasn't formulated in my mind but I was feeling overwhelmed with erm, feeling.
He got back to me yesterday. I couldn't make the time he suggested because of problems with access arrangements. Could I meet him later and throw him a beer (a pint?!)
He replied asking if I liked Pearl Jam. He had a free ticket for tonight's gig in Hyde Park.
Pearl Jam!
Am I making this up?!
I'll proceed to the gig. Do I proceed with The Pomegranite?
The Pomegranite Plan - all the P's
Postcards
Prime Minister
People
Pounds
Press
Earlier this week I emailed a gentleman asking if I could meet him for some advice. The plan wasn't formulated in my mind but I was feeling overwhelmed with erm, feeling.
He got back to me yesterday. I couldn't make the time he suggested because of problems with access arrangements. Could I meet him later and throw him a beer (a pint?!)
He replied asking if I liked Pearl Jam. He had a free ticket for tonight's gig in Hyde Park.
Pearl Jam!
Am I making this up?!
I'll proceed to the gig. Do I proceed with The Pomegranite?
Thursday, 1 April 2010
I am my Cave
Velveteen Mind has written a fantastic post titled Enter Your Cave. She describes her own and asks if the reader has one. She mentions Clarissa Pinkola's Este's Women Who Run With The Wolves, of which I'm a great fan. She also made me think.
Stigmum is my cave. My cave is Stigmum. I write myself into black holes, I write my way out of them. My cave is turbulent place, with jagged edges where I must mind my head. I will write and write and write until I climb out into the light, then I will remember it always as a peaceful oasis, as I was once, in the beginning.
For now though I am going to leave my blog to be with my child for a little while. I will take Stigmum with me; I will take a pen. My notebook is blue; the colour of Mary's Veil, which is quite apt given the Season!
I hope I come back to you, whoever you are, which I guess is a way of saying I hope I can come back to me, whoever I am.
I wish you all a Happy Easter.
Stigmum is my cave. My cave is Stigmum. I write myself into black holes, I write my way out of them. My cave is turbulent place, with jagged edges where I must mind my head. I will write and write and write until I climb out into the light, then I will remember it always as a peaceful oasis, as I was once, in the beginning.
For now though I am going to leave my blog to be with my child for a little while. I will take Stigmum with me; I will take a pen. My notebook is blue; the colour of Mary's Veil, which is quite apt given the Season!
I hope I come back to you, whoever you are, which I guess is a way of saying I hope I can come back to me, whoever I am.
I wish you all a Happy Easter.
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
Bonnie, my flat is falling apart!!
Bonnie, a couple of weeks ago, you understood that I was falling apart. Bonnie, I didn't tell you the flat was too...
My curtain rail had broken but then two days after playing with you, well something happened to my front door!
I shut it a little too hard and the lock, which is embedded on a piece of wood within the old knackered frame, flew out! Now I lock the front door behind me but I can gently push it open for re-entry.
Luckily there's another lock on the door so I didn't call the property owner, who's partner had tried to sort out the crumbling frame a few months ago.
Then at the weekend, the electrics kept cutting out. The meter was fizzing again, quite literally, "giving off sparks"!
Monday afternoon the whole thing went off as my son was playing on the computer. The flat would have been thrown into pitch darkness had the clocks not gone forward Sunday! I'd hit another downer too so a bit of a coincidence really.
I thought it might be a powercut but my neighbours were fine.
I thought of you Bonnie, I did.
Oh electrician, electrician, it's all fallen apart, and I need you now tonight and I need you more than ever and you'll only be making things right, it won't ever go wrong....
Only I couldn't play your song.
Nor could I cook or reheat my son a meal.
All the handmade food in the freezer would melt.
And finally, finally, the dam burst and I cried.
I needed to cry Bonnie, so thank you xxx
My curtain rail had broken but then two days after playing with you, well something happened to my front door!
I shut it a little too hard and the lock, which is embedded on a piece of wood within the old knackered frame, flew out! Now I lock the front door behind me but I can gently push it open for re-entry.
Luckily there's another lock on the door so I didn't call the property owner, who's partner had tried to sort out the crumbling frame a few months ago.
Then at the weekend, the electrics kept cutting out. The meter was fizzing again, quite literally, "giving off sparks"!
Monday afternoon the whole thing went off as my son was playing on the computer. The flat would have been thrown into pitch darkness had the clocks not gone forward Sunday! I'd hit another downer too so a bit of a coincidence really.
I thought it might be a powercut but my neighbours were fine.
I thought of you Bonnie, I did.
Oh electrician, electrician, it's all fallen apart, and I need you now tonight and I need you more than ever and you'll only be making things right, it won't ever go wrong....
Only I couldn't play your song.
Nor could I cook or reheat my son a meal.
All the handmade food in the freezer would melt.
And finally, finally, the dam burst and I cried.
I needed to cry Bonnie, so thank you xxx
Friday, 12 February 2010
I'll get to the point eventually....
Journalism course today and with the week's events, haven't done my film review homework.
I come here. Stiggers has written a rubbish review or two. Take it, try and improve on it, before I hand it in.
I print out an old copy of an article I sent to the national press. Maybe my tutor can give me some helpful pointers as to where I'm going wrong, and where I could go right.
The class is visiting a local newspaper today; a Q&A session with the deputy. I'm going to be late. I jump on Zat and make my way there.
A few people on my course are standing outside. I'm not late; cool!
We go in and the editor welcomes us.
"Nick Clegg is supposed to be coming in today. You might get a chance to meet him."
"I wrote to him and asked if he would meet me," I say without thinking. "I haven't got a reply yet!"
"Oh you never know, you might get your chance," says the editor, or words to that effect.
I'm thinking oh my goodness. Angels, angels, I leave this up to you yes. If I meet him I meet him. If I don't, I don't.
The meeting starts with the deputy telling us about the paper, the sister papers. She's asked how she got into journalism.
A knock on the door and in walks the editor with Clegg and a few others and says something like:
"This girl here has a question for you!"
Clegg looks at me smiling. (He looks the same in real life as he does on telly, if you're wondering)
Do you know, I do not know exactly what I said. I did a charity walk, I asked that you sponsor me, I asked everybody, your camp got back saying you were committed to other charities but that's cool, I sent an email back asking if you would meet me because me and my son are being evicted and I haven't heard back yet.
He says he's sorry about that and he'll look into it and I say it's ok, I didn't expect a response. I carry on saying I feel bullied and threatened by the council to accept alternatives that do not benefit my child. I have written to the prime minister and he said it was up to the local authority and you are the local authority and your people say they can't help because they have no influence so a Tory is helping me at the moment and he's telling me to accept alternatives that aren't in the best interests of my child too.
He asked me for my email address and he would see what he can do.
I write my name and email and "is being evicted from her temporary acccommodation along with her son.... Thank you!" (Her? Am I talking about someone else?)
There's a mini photo shoot with all of us. He, the editor, their entourage, leave.
A few people say "well done" to me. I don't know what I'm thinking.
The meeting with the deputy reconvenes.
The editor comes back in and asks me if I will talk to a reporter afterwards.
I am reminded, if I had forgotten, that I am in the offices of a NEWSPAPER. This is a STORY. Clegg is in the CENTRE of it being caught off guard by ME.
Everyone is the room is very pleased with this. I bury my head in my arms and they laugh.
I think I looked attentive through out the rest of the meeting but I'll be honest with you, I didn't hear a thing. God knows where I was. God does know, I don't.
I'm gasping for Nicoteen. Absolutely gasping. My mouth is really dry. I've not had any breakfast.
The journalist says she'll talk to me outside and I'm really grateful for this. I'm talking what sounds to me like gobbledigoop, tripping over my sentences, running off at the mouth not wanting her to know why I'm so desperate. I tell her I'm a statistic, a stereotype, I fear a backlash, no don't say that, don't mention fear of backlash. Oh fuck what am I saying? She's taking it all down in shorthand.
"What's your name?"
"Oh god."
I don't want to give my name but I know I should because this is a story that has to be told only I was a journalist once and you know, you want to tell the story not be the story.
She understands this and says she'll let me think about it.
I'm thinking don't let me think about it, thank you for letting me think about it, There's a monumental problem happening, I shouldn't have to think about it. Did I tell her at any point in all my gobbledigoop that I write a 'secret' blog?
The editor comes out. It's an opportunity for me. He laughs saying he bets Clegg didn't expect that, probably thinks the paper set him up.
I didn't tell him I write a blog. I was tempted to, but not infront of everyone. My son my sun my son.
We chat, I tell him about others in the same situation, agree it's part of a much bigger story.
Oh my son my sun my son. Mummy finds herself in another storm, but is it in a thimble?
I can see the story. It's a good one. Any journalist can see that.
The point to my post?
Clegg caught off guard by mother facing eviction from temporary accommodation.
I still haven't eaten but I will roll myself another cigarette.
I come here. Stiggers has written a rubbish review or two. Take it, try and improve on it, before I hand it in.
I print out an old copy of an article I sent to the national press. Maybe my tutor can give me some helpful pointers as to where I'm going wrong, and where I could go right.
The class is visiting a local newspaper today; a Q&A session with the deputy. I'm going to be late. I jump on Zat and make my way there.
A few people on my course are standing outside. I'm not late; cool!
We go in and the editor welcomes us.
"Nick Clegg is supposed to be coming in today. You might get a chance to meet him."
"I wrote to him and asked if he would meet me," I say without thinking. "I haven't got a reply yet!"
"Oh you never know, you might get your chance," says the editor, or words to that effect.
I'm thinking oh my goodness. Angels, angels, I leave this up to you yes. If I meet him I meet him. If I don't, I don't.
The meeting starts with the deputy telling us about the paper, the sister papers. She's asked how she got into journalism.
A knock on the door and in walks the editor with Clegg and a few others and says something like:
"This girl here has a question for you!"
Clegg looks at me smiling. (He looks the same in real life as he does on telly, if you're wondering)
Do you know, I do not know exactly what I said. I did a charity walk, I asked that you sponsor me, I asked everybody, your camp got back saying you were committed to other charities but that's cool, I sent an email back asking if you would meet me because me and my son are being evicted and I haven't heard back yet.
He says he's sorry about that and he'll look into it and I say it's ok, I didn't expect a response. I carry on saying I feel bullied and threatened by the council to accept alternatives that do not benefit my child. I have written to the prime minister and he said it was up to the local authority and you are the local authority and your people say they can't help because they have no influence so a Tory is helping me at the moment and he's telling me to accept alternatives that aren't in the best interests of my child too.
He asked me for my email address and he would see what he can do.
I write my name and email and "is being evicted from her temporary acccommodation along with her son.... Thank you!" (Her? Am I talking about someone else?)
There's a mini photo shoot with all of us. He, the editor, their entourage, leave.
A few people say "well done" to me. I don't know what I'm thinking.
The meeting with the deputy reconvenes.
The editor comes back in and asks me if I will talk to a reporter afterwards.
I am reminded, if I had forgotten, that I am in the offices of a NEWSPAPER. This is a STORY. Clegg is in the CENTRE of it being caught off guard by ME.
Everyone is the room is very pleased with this. I bury my head in my arms and they laugh.
I think I looked attentive through out the rest of the meeting but I'll be honest with you, I didn't hear a thing. God knows where I was. God does know, I don't.
I'm gasping for Nicoteen. Absolutely gasping. My mouth is really dry. I've not had any breakfast.
The journalist says she'll talk to me outside and I'm really grateful for this. I'm talking what sounds to me like gobbledigoop, tripping over my sentences, running off at the mouth not wanting her to know why I'm so desperate. I tell her I'm a statistic, a stereotype, I fear a backlash, no don't say that, don't mention fear of backlash. Oh fuck what am I saying? She's taking it all down in shorthand.
"What's your name?"
"Oh god."
I don't want to give my name but I know I should because this is a story that has to be told only I was a journalist once and you know, you want to tell the story not be the story.
She understands this and says she'll let me think about it.
I'm thinking don't let me think about it, thank you for letting me think about it, There's a monumental problem happening, I shouldn't have to think about it. Did I tell her at any point in all my gobbledigoop that I write a 'secret' blog?
The editor comes out. It's an opportunity for me. He laughs saying he bets Clegg didn't expect that, probably thinks the paper set him up.
I didn't tell him I write a blog. I was tempted to, but not infront of everyone. My son my sun my son.
We chat, I tell him about others in the same situation, agree it's part of a much bigger story.
Oh my son my sun my son. Mummy finds herself in another storm, but is it in a thimble?
I can see the story. It's a good one. Any journalist can see that.
The point to my post?
Clegg caught off guard by mother facing eviction from temporary accommodation.
I still haven't eaten but I will roll myself another cigarette.
Sunday, 31 January 2010
A warm coincidence
My mother has just called. She tells me that yesterday she got an overwhelming feeling of anxiety but had no idea where it came from.
So she prayed to her angels, prayed and prayed. Asked that whatever was causing this anxiety could be resolved.
At 9.30 she went to bed. She told me she had a blissful night's sleep, so profound, no worry whatsoever disturbing it.
I laughed: "You know what?" and I told her about last night's trip to the cinema....
"It's probably just a coincidence but quite a freaky one!"
So she prayed to her angels, prayed and prayed. Asked that whatever was causing this anxiety could be resolved.
At 9.30 she went to bed. She told me she had a blissful night's sleep, so profound, no worry whatsoever disturbing it.
I laughed: "You know what?" and I told her about last night's trip to the cinema....
"It's probably just a coincidence but quite a freaky one!"
Saturday, 12 December 2009
Mother and Child evicted Christmas Week
Order for possession
(accelerated procedure)
(assured shorthold tenancy)
ON THE 07 December 2009, DISTRICT JUDGE AVENT
sitting at CENTRAL LONDON County Court, Civil Justice Centre, 13-14 Park Crescent, London, W1N 1HT
read the written evidence of the claimant
and the court orders that
1. The defendant give the claimant possession of x Papier Mache Towers, London, NW on or before 21 December 2009.
2. The defendant pay the claimant's costs of £150.00 on or before 21 December 2009.
Note: This order was made without a hearing. Within 14 days of its being served, either party may apply for it to be set aside or varied.
To the defendant
The court has ordered you to leave the premises by the date stated in paragraph 1 above. (If notice is attached of a hearing to consider your request to remain longer, the date you must leave may be varied at the hearing.)
If you do not leave by hte date fixed by the court, the claimant can ask the court, without a further hearing, to authorise a bailiff to evict you.
Payments should be made to the claimant, not to the court. If you need more information about making payments, you should contact the claimant.
If you do not pay the money owed when it is due and the claimant takes steps to enforce payment, the order will be registered in the Register of Judgments, Orders and Fines. This may make it difficult for you to get credit. Further information about registration is available in a leaflet which you can get from any court office.
I have received this just now, just as my son asks me if he can play on his psp after a lovely morning together. A fortunate coincidence.
Mute Mother. I turned around in circles before going to have a cigarette. I am psychotically calm. I don't want to talk to anyone, I can't. Lucky I have blogspot so I can talk to myself.
It is Saturday. I cannot do anything until Monday.
August promised the Council.
Do I have to pay that money?
I have to phone the 'Claimant', the 'Council' and the landlady.
I have not done my Christmas shopping.
14 days? It's not 14 days until the 21st.
Thank GOD my son is here.
I have promised him A Christmas Carol at the Camden Odeon. I will miss it, my mind will be working overtime, but he will not. I've promised him carol singing in Trafalgar Square afterwards. I'm frightened I 'won't be there' to enjoy it with him.
I feel sick and I feel the tears coming. My son mustn't see this. I must log out and go and sit in the bathroom. Let the tears fall. Don't let him see.
I guess that it's in telling this that the emotions have been released which only tears can articulate.
It's good to cry they say.
Thank you blogspot.
(accelerated procedure)
(assured shorthold tenancy)
ON THE 07 December 2009, DISTRICT JUDGE AVENT
sitting at CENTRAL LONDON County Court, Civil Justice Centre, 13-14 Park Crescent, London, W1N 1HT
read the written evidence of the claimant
and the court orders that
1. The defendant give the claimant possession of x Papier Mache Towers, London, NW on or before 21 December 2009.
2. The defendant pay the claimant's costs of £150.00 on or before 21 December 2009.
Note: This order was made without a hearing. Within 14 days of its being served, either party may apply for it to be set aside or varied.
To the defendant
The court has ordered you to leave the premises by the date stated in paragraph 1 above. (If notice is attached of a hearing to consider your request to remain longer, the date you must leave may be varied at the hearing.)
If you do not leave by hte date fixed by the court, the claimant can ask the court, without a further hearing, to authorise a bailiff to evict you.
Payments should be made to the claimant, not to the court. If you need more information about making payments, you should contact the claimant.
If you do not pay the money owed when it is due and the claimant takes steps to enforce payment, the order will be registered in the Register of Judgments, Orders and Fines. This may make it difficult for you to get credit. Further information about registration is available in a leaflet which you can get from any court office.
I have received this just now, just as my son asks me if he can play on his psp after a lovely morning together. A fortunate coincidence.
Mute Mother. I turned around in circles before going to have a cigarette. I am psychotically calm. I don't want to talk to anyone, I can't. Lucky I have blogspot so I can talk to myself.
It is Saturday. I cannot do anything until Monday.
August promised the Council.
Do I have to pay that money?
I have to phone the 'Claimant', the 'Council' and the landlady.
I have not done my Christmas shopping.
14 days? It's not 14 days until the 21st.
Thank GOD my son is here.
I have promised him A Christmas Carol at the Camden Odeon. I will miss it, my mind will be working overtime, but he will not. I've promised him carol singing in Trafalgar Square afterwards. I'm frightened I 'won't be there' to enjoy it with him.
I feel sick and I feel the tears coming. My son mustn't see this. I must log out and go and sit in the bathroom. Let the tears fall. Don't let him see.
I guess that it's in telling this that the emotions have been released which only tears can articulate.
It's good to cry they say.
Thank you blogspot.
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