Archive for the ‘RESPONSE’ Category

Christmas Competition Results

December 27, 2013

Are amusing.

*Santa* having a good laugh at the results

*Santa* having a good laugh at the results

So: NO-ONE entered the competition, is the result of it, lmao.

Disappointment, necessarily, was the first reaction of *Santa*, for he loves to surprise and delight and so he felt a little put out of a job.  But a little reflection soon reassured him that children write to him through the chimneys (a bad idea for him, though a great one for parents etc) and adults parade their wishes to partners, friends, relatives, (some even shovel them into their own childrens’ minds) – and that’s fine for the non-magical christmas that most people enjoy (or despise).

Disappointed *Santa*

Disappointed *Santa*

*Santa*, however, is a specific variant of the ‘Father Christmas‘ symbolism. He is magical. He has certain very vital corporeal needs in order to operate his work, and certain quite unusual powers enabling him to ‘make dreams come true’ in a way that most people simply don’t expect to occur at all.

Thus it was a slight shame that no-one entered the competition despite one of them being explicitly invited to do so, because now, Zoe, your long yearned for dream holiday lies in your own hands and can only come true if you create its manifestation for yourself. It shouldn’t prove much of a problem in truth; obviously, had you entered the competition it would have been a dream holiday laid on without a hitch or worry but = hey, Rome will still be there next year… 😉

Meanwhile we will now announce *Santa*s gifting for this uncompeted competition:-

Julia will take a trip to Paris in the summer of 2014. She exemplifies the virtues of determination, courage and fellowship.

Paris Chilling

Paris Chilling

Mr Glenn Miranda will drive a mini-bus to a conference venue on a voluntary basis during the summer of 2014. He exemplifies the virtues of determination, perseverance and humility.

Decorated, but not this particular one ;-)

Decorated, but not this particular one 😉

and

Isabella Jakeman will enjoy a very, very, special 10th Birthday. She exemplifies the virtues of faith – and faith is all any of us need.

Cinderella goes to the Ball: (we don't do pumkin magic, bella ;-) )

Cinderella goes to the Ball: (we don’t do pumkin magic, bella 😉 )

Finally, we shall be delivering a christmas wish to Jamie, who lives somewhere in Redditch. He risked his life to save his 6 year old sister on 24th July, 2013 and this is merely one of many symptoms of the fine and noble character of  this 12 year old boy.  He will probably need to see this post and contact Janie to ensure that his wish is relevant, pleasing and in fact, life changing.

It’s an unexpected, yet particularly fulfilling turn out for both *Santa* and Baboushka (who has been very busy with her home this christmas): a unified response to wishes has been created from a delightful absence of demand, and thus they have been able to listen to that small still voice within that speaks from and for faithfulness of being and honor of action.

Messy New Beer everyone, it’s time for Benjii’s tea.

[contact-field label=’Name’ type=’name’ required=’1’/]

In mind of my father, I would like to say: [Poem follows]

December 8, 2013

This is a piece of work I  have written in memory of my father, who died just over a year ago.  I have been grieving over the loss of him since his death, but for the first few months I was so busy organising the funeral and dealing with family conflicts viz his will, and liaising with my sister over the house & contents sale that followed his death that I didn’t begin the popularly understood phases of it until the spring this year.

When the fire burns will you cool me down; Will you love me enough to be there, still love me when I'm cool when I'm cool too?

When the fire burns will you cool me down; Will you love me enough to be there, still love me when I’m cool (!) too?

Then later on, nearer to the first anniversary of his death and burial, but before the estate had been divided, ‘case closed’, I entered a different ‘hypo-manic’ phase of grief.  I recognised the signs and resolved to remain mindful for fear of a full ‘relapse’  due to (unresolved) trauma and grief, and I relied on friends to help me to learn to take control of this little beast, – the adrenalin driven ‘depression with severe anxiety’ which appears to psychiatrists as colourful symptoms of ‘early stage onset’  of ‘hypo-mania’ which might be treated by daily visits and drug popping but no case for involuntary hospitalisation if at all unless hyper-mania is suspected to be imminent.

Janie beng very zany - and not in a good way : it just gets toooo much!

Janie beng very zany – and not in a good way : it just gets toooo much!

Family names are different. To some family members it is ‘here are early warning signs – what can I do to help’ . To others it is ‘she’s effing mad as apeshit, and as crazy as a box of frogs’ and then exasperation and impatience, even intolerance ensue. Other friend’s are patient and accepting and nurturing – that’s the best medicine of all.

That my dad and I were and are ‘classic and colourful cases of bipolar disorder (class 1)’ we both know. He’s gone now, but I hear him (no not literally, calm down) laughing. I’m still here.  I miss him dreadfully but I’m far from done with my little spot in ‘heaven on earth’. I’m creating a chilling space out of what is yet a house I’m hiding in; it’s going to be the palace of my life and loves.

Even alone sitting in my own house, houses either side of me, one of them audible and connected: I can get to feel claustrophobic. Especially when one of them’s connected all down one side. So -I’m gonna keep some of my wild patch amongst the apple and plum trees just as it is. Then beside it I’ll have a ‘the shed’:  a place for chilling while I work, rest and play,  ‘away from the madding crowds’.

It’s where I will go when I want to get:-

At Rest, Mindfully.

At Rest, Mindfully.

In mind of my father,

I would like to say:                                                                      [Poem Follows:]

Dad Formal & Serious

Dad Formal & Serious

My father’s not going,

my father’s not gone:

He  was never much in –

though  nature gave

him that clefted chin,

those ice blue eyes;

that laziness in his swing

That swung in everything  –

Including the drumming

And the piano blasts

All singing All smoking

All singing, All smoking

And the music that jazzed

Wherever he was.

He is a swinger, a jazz man,

An artist of soul

Who mere mortals judged

And pilloried

When the shit hit the fan

inner pain, outer glimpse

inner pain, outer glimpse

And that’s music too,

A story of love,

And Tragedy-

Comedy,

His Labours of Love:

Jainey in a very zany pose - her dad was never photographed when off his nut lol

Jainey in a very zany pose – her dad was never photographed when off his nut lol

He loved too much, too deeply,

For the tall proud swan,

Though not enough,

as a cash-flow king,

For the one who took her place:

Cute little kestral

Cute little kestrel

Who was a cute little kestrel ,

Beady-eyed, who doubted

this Cash-Meister big-time.

So she curled up,

in disappointed fear,

Something to grip onto for dear life and death

Something to grip onto for dear life and death

Around the cash that was left –

And wouldn’t part with it.

Leaving him lonely.

And that was the nub of it.

the ultimate cause of the heartbreak.

His Acute yet prolonged Despair

His Acute yet prolonged Despair

The true love of his life was music:

Cameras, cash & women came

a close-run second to that.

But  his fatal addiction

was women..

Though his appetite for

Savile Row rags,

Handmade Italian shoes

and his Frank Sinatra hat,

showed a passion for finery

Be yourself:- a beautifully ridiculous genius.

Be yourself:- a beautifully ridiculous genius.

That needed cash

that wasn’t made quite right.

You could see it

In the way he smoked  his fags

–           It was his critical weakness point:

That cute, possessive little kestrel with her eyes on the look out for his wanting any cash.

That cute, possessive little kestrel with her eyes on the look out for his wanting any cash.

When that went, too

He lost the taste for living,

and found the air too stale to breathe.

So, while no-one

continued to listen,

Got trapped & killed at Depression Stage; NHS & Charity partly responsible according to Janie Greville.

Got trapped & killed at Depression Stage; NHS & Charity partly responsible according to Janie Greville.

He fucked off

to the bar

(in the sky).

You’ll find him there still:-

Dad's safest where he is just now...

The gate-way to heaven above, bouncers below keeping the masses out. Dad at the bar near the piano & drums, probably chatting with Doll.

In peace – at last!.

For Anthony Pierre Greville, Born 14th July, 1930 – Died 4th October 2012.

His  spirit was purified by Sept 28th at the latest; his spirit was released during a private family service about three weeks later.

His spirit was purified by Sept 28th at the very latest; his soul was released, during a private family service, about three weeks after his death.

This entry, like all published in this site to date,  is the intellectual property of MissionMiraculus Ltd., and in particular all the copyrights of its contents belong to ‘J.Knee Operations Ltd’ . Anyone else who is invited to write for this site will keep their copyrights intact with a contract with MissionMiraculus &/or ‘J.Knee Ops Inc’  in relation to it’s publisher rights.

This  piece December 7-8th, 2013

MissionMiraculus Ltd: An Update.

December 5, 2013

It’s been a growing time, a harvesting time, a storing and a planning time since June.

Yep - it's harvesting time ;-)

Yep: It’s harvest time!!

It’s been a balancing time; an evaluating time; a time of quiet achievement since the fruits were fallen and were gathered for storing.  Autumn – the richest, most vibrant season of the year – with all the fruit being gathered from the summer and all of the storing cold of the winter approaching in the air, in which is hiding the wake of call of spring next year… what a wondrous cycle of eternal joy as weather – how unutterably wonderful is the gift of human life  = we are  designed precisely for the purpose of sensing and enjoying these seasons and

harvesting amok lol

harvesting amok lol

The signals aren’t visible, mostly, although ‘MissionMiraculus Ltd.’ is now a registered company and we have gained the  invaluable input of an independent-minded business consultant, simply because he is a true friend and doesn’t either mince words or deliver bills for his advice that will embarrass the  funds available pre-launch. Indeed – he hasn’t delivered a bill at all. So we have made a mental note of our calculated profit from his guidance and mentoring and we’re figuring in a percentage of takings after expenses which we will put his way once we’re up and running.

Our finance director has no job to do of course, until the business starts being operative, whilst the general assistant and p.a. our adorable Glenn, continues to surf bus and plane sites and facebook chatlines while he waits for  instructions.

Our CEO is on the job of translating instructions into task lists and delivering on the templates for our market research;  job 1 for the visible company – still pre-economic viability, but focussed directly on the matter of becoming a uniquely tooled-up and skilled up force to be reckoned with vis a vis mental health crisis and recovery interventions and support.

The multiple hatter

The multiple hatter

Meanwhile, with  her other hats on, Janie is: wearing the tea-pot hat for  being sociable and hospitable to regular visitors; bowler hat on top for the scheduled house maintenance & development meetings in amongst; spends time on the phone wearing a hand crocheted beret or river island woolly hat;  the feminine black homberg-alike comes on for trips to the bank manager etc;  hatlessly writes and plans for at least 2 hours a day; nips to the University of Birmingham in whatever she likes,  & to Worcester (always black and grey and self restraining) for ‘survivor’ networking, teaching and offering consultancy input for services transformation and research.  95% of her work is voluntary, for which she gets her travelling expenses and, occasionally access to water, though often a cup of coffee and even a biscuit – oh yes, and utter anonymity as a sign of respect (?).

On the home improvements front, Janie has homed in on a scandinavian style log-cabin/office of generous proportions that she has space for at the top of her garden. She plans to  move all of her academic and business work to it and to work from there during office hours and return home afterwards and between times, to cook, socialise and paint. The log cabin is quite divine:-

Log-Cabin/Office, Scandinavian Style

Log-Cabin/Office, Scandinavian Style

It will appear as something of a ‘granny annexe’ and will include a chilling/sleeping room; a toilet/shower room; a storage room and a working area. It involves getting permissions from the council locally and possibly regionally to acquire access to the back of the property via the driveway and grounds of a public institution.  Due to MissionMiraculus’s social purposes, we forecast a deal to  be struck between the institution and its purposes and the purpose and focii of MMus Ltd: we will offer to provide learning recovery work for its clients in return for the said access.

Leaving a lot of gardening work to do in what will become quite uniquely designed and maintained grounds with genuinely wild spots alongside parts of ‘an english cottage garden‘.

Janie is feeling inspired about these domestic areas of her development. She is noticing a huge wave of empowerment from, frankly, the gift her father left her on his death bed last year.  She is probably singing ‘I’m a material girl’ right now lol (not – because she can’t remember any other words lol).  She has realised that mess and clutter have been mirroring her inner muddled, crisis driven state for years.

As a friend put it to her: ‘why did these mental health people come in and see you in that state without doing anything to help you?’. The answer was, of course, that that state was perfect for writing about in documents ‘validating’ ‘severe mental illness‘ diagnoses and descriptions: the job was not to remove the problem, it was to notice and share reports about it.  It is a pleasantly and deceptively delivered form of bureaucracy and private-eye journalism – so damned deceptive that I’ve never met a cpn, social worker or medic who has a clue that’s all they’re doing.

It was an effing rude invasion of my space. Thank god they’ve taken their damned files and buggared off. To some other poor sod probably, prescription pad in hand,  report book in the other….

Janie is planning to get the MissionMiraculus.com website properly constructed and designed and in the public domain by Christmas or thereabouts. It will offer you a link to a different website that will be accessible in full for £5.95 per month.  More of on a different day when it’s worth saying anything else – the two sites are allied and are structurally connected so that MissionMiraculus.com will appear fully formed before the subscriber only site is launched.  Watch this space 😉

Pausing for Gratitude.

December 3, 2013

Emma Swan – what a divine name!!!! – was the girl who gifted me with the arts of gratitude in mind and heart.  I met her in 2009-10 as MissionMiraculus moved to pursue the ‘Road2Recovery Show’ back then, using a grant from the ‘service user’ branch of ‘Time-to-Change’ the illustriously bureaucratic and pretentious, Rethink dominated, Government & Lottery funded Mental Health ‘anti-stigma’ campaigning organ of the stigma delivering services such as psychiatric NHS care.

We are the authors of our own joy: and the inspirers of others'.

We are the authors of our own joy: and the inspirers of others’.

She was doing a research project on the  impact of gratitude back then and I offered to be a participant in the research. So I received my 2 weeks worth of forms (or was it a month?) with spaces to write down each day 5 things which I had noticed in that day for which I could feel appreciative and grateful.

I was a crap participant because I never gave her back the forms and I probably only filled in three at most.

But at a selfish level my life changed forever by this ‘workshop’. It embedded the arts of appreciative and grateful living in the deepest recesses of my mind – and though I slip at times and lose the plot, for the majority of my life I look outwards with a happy and optimistic eye and heart , and brush aside ‘negatives’ with a pretty careless air of wellbeing because my focus is no longer on what I DON’T  have, and what has disappointed me, and is so much more on what I do have and what delights me.

Click the following link for an amusing take on Bas Luhmann’s ‘Wear Sunshades’ song:-http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_aMTayDpxw

I am so filled with gratitude today that ‘my cup runneth over’.

‘Thank you universe,’ I want to say, ‘your energies are forever and everywhere wiser and more loving and surprising than expressible or fathomable: the worst becomes the soil of the spectacular and the apparent best wears thin and becomes tarnished at the smallest breeze or shower.  My life makes sense at last, and my future is already here and so glorious that sunglasses may prove vital alongside the suncream – even in the literal snow!!!! 🙂

Poetic Interlude : Adrenalin Junkie.

November 27, 2013

 There’s going to be a lot of space in this update because I’ve copied and pasted from Word and for some reason the format has stretched out. At some point I’ll train myself up re IT skills so I can reformat stuff – but for now, please bear with me. 😉

Poet at Rest

Poet at Rest

 Adrenalin Junkie.

 Let no-one fool you:

 It’s not a roller coaster ride.

 

You’re in an aeroplane

and you’re feeling tense;

You have an immense sense

of what’s to befall you:

 

You concentrate intensely

on your every strand

of knowledge, training,

Imagination

 

And you feel good. So good.

The door is by your side.

All your need is this:

Slide it open.

 

And you do. The blast of air

that nearly pulls you out,

sucks you in against the walls

of your every hope, stuns you.

 

You can hardly gather breath.

But you have your eyes on the sky –

It’s vast, it’s blue, it’s white, it calls you –

And of course you go, fly,

 

leave your parachute behind.

 

Wow! The air is clear, cold,

everything you ever thought it could be.

You’re free and you’re falling

Through air.

 

English: Cliffs at Gaitnip In the late afterno...

English: Cliffs at Gaitnip In the late afternoon sun. Wideford Hill in the centre, above the line of the cliffs. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Over mountains, over  housetops,

over  trees and the fields so green;

over sea, over cliffs.

And back. Over cliffs.

 

The land Is nearer now,

and you reach for your parachute

button much, much too late.

Too late to reverse your velocity,

 

too late for retrieving your life-

 

saving equipment, too late for second thoughts

And a considered plan of free-flying action

The rocks beneath and the lashing waves invite you:

With their black and white and blue they’re going to kill you.

 

1998/Janie G/ originally titled ‘manic depression’.

No-News Update, and an angry yorkshire man…

November 19, 2013
In the Perishing Cold

In the Perishing Cold

So – it’s true… A lingering cold, robbing us of energy & efficiency, has meant that – though we have a wonderful brass plaque for MissionMiraculus Ltd. – we have nowhere to put it but around Arrabbella’s neck with string donated by Gordon Parsons, lol,  and Janie is freezing half to death in her home devoid of a working boiler & her reluctance to heat water from the immersion (though she’s doing it other daily in the interests of hygiene lol).

We think, while you’re waiting, you might like this link, for a yorkshire man’s view of politics. Click on this link and a new page will open – enjoy!! 🙂  http://anotherangryvoice.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/george-osborne-liar-or-tax-dodger.html

 

 

 

 

Video Weekend: Arrabbella Faith last year.

November 16, 2013
English: Robert Plutchik's Wheel of Emotions

English: Robert Plutchik’s Wheel of Emotions (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today we bring you a light, yet incisive blurbling by Arrabbella, played over a track by Example – girls let’s unite: we WILL express our feelings, we WILL laugh, cry, shriek with rage, whenever it comes upon us.  We carry emotion for children and men – children lead us, men come kicking and screaming behind us moaning ‘what’s all this emotion – wtf – why can’t you stfu and be like us?!!’

This is why, darlings: we live longer than you do on the strength of our openness – we’d love to see you opening up – it will clear your chest, energise you and lead you into your passions – hurrah!! Go with it (but don’t hit us – that’s a step too far lol)

Now: press the link below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XLfIniLlQu0&list=FLceNkauRdv7SWP627v0qIWw

Steve Jobs Inspires Us Still

November 15, 2013
Janie in 2009

Janie in 2009

Well, we haven’t dropped by to update you of late, and we don’t want to update you yet lol. But we DO want to inspire you!  And we can’t think of a better way to do that than to send you to a video of Steve Jobs addressing some graduates from Stanton University, USA back in the ‘noughties’.

We, by the way, are ushering in the ‘naughties’ – sounds the same, feels a bit naughtier, lmao.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gO6cFMRqXqU

Maya inadvertantly embodies MM-us values; Aesthetic Science in Motion.

November 3, 2013

The values of MissionMiraculus Ltd (= MM-us) have been articulated across a range of documents authored by MissionMiraculus & Janie Greville. All of this material is Copyrighted with All Rights Reserved. Today, in particular, we would like to draw your attention to the term ‘Aesthetic Science’. Although Janie Greville has coined this term originally, together with a concept of meaning that refers in and outward to a deep and wide network of knowledges and affective references; it is not the first usage of this term.

One company offering cosmetic surgery have misused the term vis a vis the dictionary definition of the term within The Shorter Oxford Dictionary, a common reference manual for such disagreements, and therefore we anticipate this commercial concern will shortly be renaming their company.

A book as been edited by Arthur P. Shimamura and Stephen E. Palmer, with a telling subtitle – ‘Connecting Minds, Brains, and Experience’. This sounds as if the focal zone for the collection of authors in this volume is subjective experience, not including the subjectivity of the  material body – I  may be mistaken, but I shall order and read this volume within the next month and let you know – if anyone else would like to do likewise that would be great.

For the time being I believe we are the first collective genius to create the new theory of ‘Aesthetic Science’ which will literally, in one swoop, demolish both western science and Modernism, with it’s ‘Post-Modernist‘ spin offs. It will in fact a cosmic blow to post Newtonian Britain and the entire world, but especially USA; UK and Europe (including Russia/USSR).

In addition, quite by accident it will lead to an open and forceful alliance between Sweden & the UK – two unusually strongly independent states / countries within the larger territory of Europe, stretching from Norway and Ireland across to Russia, down to the mediterranean shores of Cyprus, Turkey and Afghanistan.  Communities within two latter, and other ‘borderline’ states,  to have both European and Asian identity issues cheek-by-jowl.  Previous efforts to quell the squabbling have been led by the highly warrior spirited USA and UK organisations; notably, the UN is largely USA controlled with UK support and encouragement too often.  The Teutonic inclination to fire before thinking is balanced by the Viking soul of the Scandinavian’s (including the ‘netherlandish) post-imperial wisdom of taking the following approach to trouble: ‘Think about it, map it, analyse it; reach for the most effective, economic, humane, solution.’ We believe that the ‘nords’ have it sorted. War is no more in these lands. Let’s spread the joy, is what MissionMiraculus thinks.

The theory of Aesthetic Science created, constructed and in the wings of publication, is the brain child of MissMiracle’s MIC & Friends; sister company to MissionMiraculus Ltd.  Though the theory in totalis is not yet visible, it exists. Any use or misuse of these concepts with this name or any other created via MissionMiraculus.com; Talkheals.wordpress.com; facebook pages for missionmiraculus, Arrabella Faith & Janie Greville or referred to or discussed across her networks of colleagues and private friends, will be pursued actively in relation to Copyright Laws. Many thanks for your co-operation.

 

 

Dancing in His Grave

October 24, 2013

Dad’s safest where he is just now…

I wrote this entry, originally, in November 2012 last year, shortly after my father died. Of course, as you will see, it’s a ‘parochial’ piece, pertaining to specifics within my own life and family in the extended sense.

Looking back on this, as I approach the first anniversary of my father’s mortal death (don’t think there’s supposed to be another kind, but I felt like my father’s body survived his spirit by several months, really – he’d lost the will to live earlier in the year when he ‘failed’ yet another ‘tribunal’ held at St Andrew’s Hospital), it strikes almost an orchestral chord with me. This time last year I was a mental health patient (and had been one since 1997), I was ‘incapacitated’ beyond all expectations of sustainable recovery and I was alone, without a partner to share my life with. A year on I am an ex-patient; I am constructing the underpinnings of a successful business; and I am delighted to report that I have been reunited with the partner who appeared in my life, for the first time, back in 2006.

This entry should be read to the song ‘What a Wonderful World’ by Louis Armstrong.

My lovely Dad must be dancing in his grave. It’s what he did on top of the soil so presumably he’ll be doing it even more now. He won’t be feeling too hot or too cold, he won’t be feeling too happy or too sad, he won’t be feeling too amused or too enraged – he’ll be as serene as ever he could have felt in this life. That’s a good thought, a good feeling – he’s past pain and past pleasure – a state of utter peace.

Those of us with breath in our lungs and blood running through our veins can’t genuinely imagine this state. After all, our very capacity to experience ourselves as living is dependent on this constant state of flux between various potentially opposite extremes. I can’t offer to throw light onto the matter either, because I don’t remember anything until I was about two so I’m blind and deaf to the eternity I was in before I was conceived and presumably that’s the same space he’s returned to now.

Of course in another sense he hasn’t because a fair few people remember him and hold him in their minds eye and fewer still, in their heart. I hold him in both, and let’s face it, I hold him in the length of my arms and legs, my addictive love of music and my sense of humour. Oh – and in my insistence on personalising anything and everything that comes within my sphere.

I want to check with St Andrews if there are any audio or video recordings of my dad performing to his peers and carers. It would hardly assist me to show the world what a gifted man my father was but it would warm my heart to see anything to keep him alive to me.

For the time being I have his order of service card, young soulful photo at the front, heart warming image of his birthday party in July on the back. To me he’ll never die.

Father of Mine

Father of Mine (Photo credit: Just Us 3)

Which is why I’ve only sobbed about his concrete death a few times so far. I feel like he’s still with me somehow, so most of the time I feel he’s actually closer to hand than he’d been for some years.

Oh what a lovely outlet this is. To speak what’s in my heart in an environment stripped of people who intrude to corrupt it.

The corruption is coming from matters of estate. If you have ever been named in a ‘last will and testament’ or have ever read a novel by Jane Austen you’ll immediately know what I mean. At death the vultures appear and hover – where the body disappears they gather to feed on the living grieving.

Makes you shudder doesn’t it? I’d experienced it in Austen’s novels, and I’d seen it over a meal in Dover when my grandfather died when I was eighteen years old. At the time my Uncle Ivor tried to soothe me by sympathising with my feelings while assuring me that I would feel differently when I got older. But Jane Austen’s novels are about large estates, my grandfather was a millionaire over twenty years ago – it doesn’t make the hovering or the lip slapping or the blood dripping claws any nicer but at least you can see why the booty looks so appealing and unmissable to vultures. – Oh – and I am older now, and I haven’t changed my feelings one iota. Nice try Uncle Ivor (now also in the ether) – I love you for doing your best xx.

My Dad’s estate, after costs, will probably be worth £115,000-120,000, Maximum.

Yet, so far, three people have applied to my Dad’s solicitor to find out the contents of his will in advance of his funeral, have sat together and have left several abusive voice mails on my mobile phone and one has informed me that I am personally responsible for some terrible recent misfortune in their family, all on the grounds that I turned out to be named in my father’s will. Most of the abusive phone calls were made at around 11 O’clock at night on the day of my father’s funeral. A funeral to which these people failed to appear on the grounds that they feared they had not been named in my father’s will and needed to have hard evidence about the matter before deciding whether or not to attend.

Have we left earth and headed for terra-ghastly or what? I don’t know. I only know this: ‘there ain’t nout so strange as folk’.

Feel free to comment dear readers – I’m genuinely perplexed.

Empty Soul Smile: Vultures

Empty Soul Smile: Vultures

To vultures if hovering over my blog – my words are backed by evidence so please leave me alone now.

My Dad spent a lot of his life persuaded by the 18-20th Century obsession with Love as a reference to ‘romantic’ attachment. He was fully capable of loving beyond this – he loved his little dogs; he loved music with a passion; he loved photography and colour, pattern and arrangement; he loved ‘the high life’; he loved conversation; he loved fine food; he loved good people; he loved laughing; he loved cups of tea; he loved glasses of wine, sometimes bottles of the stuff. I could go on. My Dad was a loving guy.

My Dad also loved his children, his acquired (by marriage) children and his natural, ie blood, children. This last was a passion of love that showed in letters he wrote to my mother many years ago but which he was discrete about in his day to day existence. He largely accommodated his second wife’s wishes in where to live and what to do, and he did this for a range of reasons, not least that he loved her very much.

There was a strain in him that somehow connected money and possessions with love. I believe that isn’t uncommon although I tend to think that it’s a good idea at times to stand back, notice that the one doesn’t equate with the other, and then take actions in relation to money that make sense and actions in relation to love that make sense – and somehow or another the relationship between the two can stand in a form of conceptual and defensible harmony if not equability.

I think that this paragraph is relevant to my father’s last will and testament. It reflected the passion of his love and it reflected his customary tendency to equate money with feeling. Had he been like me he would have adjusted his will to bring a ‘better’ balance to a wider approach of his loving. But he was not me. He was more impassioned than I am, less ‘dispassionate’ than I’m inclined to be.

Who knows, however, that he didn’t also know in his very bones about this difference in our natures and entrust me – and/or my sister and I, with the responsibility to ensure that peace shall reign in our lifetime? 😉

If the vultures will just shut the f**k up for a while, behind my back as well as by diversionary routes, and turn back into human beings – I shall have some peace in which to think!!!!

English: Back View of Jane Austen, Watercolor

English: Back View of Jane Austen, Watercolor (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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