No Answers

We went to Venice. It seems an eternity away now.

Twenty-four hours after returning, our world was shaken and suddenly everything changes. On Saturday, a friend of ours was found murdered in his home. He had lived quietly on his own.

I sit here and I can still see his face, his smile and hear his voice. We are caught in a time warp.

My youngest daughter, when she was treated to dinner in the local, always had Chicken Teddies. Our friend would try the distraction trick whilst trying to 'steal' the Chicken Teddies from her plate. She loved his, obviously bungled, attempts. It became their ritual. As she grew older their conversations became more 'grown up’. Our friend always remarked how bright, and funny she was. In the same way he brought tears to my eyes a few months ago, when he told me what a beautiful girl my eldest daughter was, 'she is beautiful from the inside out Mary'.

My girl’s world has been rocked. How do I calm the eldest, who knew him well? What do I tell the youngest? How do I protect them from a vicious, nasty world, when that world has landed here? How do I make them realise that this is not going to happen again? Suddenly our rural community, that was always idyllic and friendly has been cloaked in fear, anger, misery and grief.

I cannot make any sense of it because there is none. Our friend was a son, a brother and an uncle. Why did this happen to this family? There are no words of comfort I can think to offer his family. I have a huge anger in me, a rage I cannot explain. No one deserves to die in this way, no one. Our friend was the kindest of gentle men. You tell me where the justice is, I cannot see any.

I have held my eldest daughter. I have diluted the story of his death to the youngest. She said the line that everyone in our community was silently saying in their own heads. 'I don't want to hear this; I know I don't want to hear this'. God only knows what his family where screaming in their heads.

Someone out there, who is a son, possibly a brother, lover, husband, father or uncle did this. You took the life of another man, who had the nicest nature of anyone I have met. You have ruined the life of his elderly mother and his sisters, nephews and nieces. May your soul be damned to hell for eternity. May you never rest peacefully in this life or any other. I hope that you DO realise one day what you did, because you can NEVER salve your conscience whilst you walk on this earth.

The Power Of Twitter and a Busy Week

There were a few hangings on Twitter this week, the odd escaped balloon, a roof top protest and a miserable employee.

Jan Moir has been hung, drawn and quartered for her completely bigoted and despicable article on the untimely and tragic death of the young Steven Gately. Her acidic tongue and the venom she flicked from it was ceremoniously ripped from her mouth and thrust down her throat. She deserved it. Her downfalls began when she assumed she could hide behind the Daily Mail and flaunt her vicious nature whilst waving her 'I am a serious journalist and have the right to voice my warped opinions' flag. The aforementioned flag has been ripped from her hands and not too gently put into a place where the sun does not shine. Her arrogance was terrifying and her ignorance was beyond belief. Her mistake was assuming anyone would have even considered the opinions of such a misinformed witch as her. I am only surprised she only managed to miss mentioning Jade Goody out of diatribe of claptrap. Perhaps that is being saved for her next article.

The Trafigura toxic waste dumping off the Ivory Coast was shoved, none too silently, out into the public domain, completely defeating the object of the Court Injunction against The Guardian Newspaper. Within hours, more people knew of the incident than would have if The Guardian had actually published the article in the first place. The object of the exercise was complete, we knew about it and we shouted about it. Success.

Balloon Boy disappeared over the USA in a weather balloon, sparking a major incident, only to reappear, several hours later in his parent’s loft. Don’t ask! Amid cries of, ‘it’s a publicity stunt’ the Internet went into free fall, somewhat like the deflated balloon the child was said to, mysteriously, have got into before it vacated its tethering rope on Terra Firma.

Greenpeace went up on the roof of Parliament to raise awareness of Climate Change and tweeted from the rooftops. They also produced one of the most iconic photographs of recent weeks as they held a large, yellow banner above their heads against the backdrop of Big Ben.

Ian was exceptionally rude to an elderly traveller on the London train network. I suspect, as a result of the huge outcry on Twitter and several ‘tweets’ to the Mayor of London, he will lose his job. Quite rightly so.

What have I learnt this week?

• That if you are misinformed, vicious and have an axe to grind, do not do it in print and expect to keep your head.
• That if you don’t keep your children tethered to the ground they float off.
• If you anchor your ship off the coast and poison thousands of innocent people, you will be found out.
• If you angrily suggest that someone be pushed under a train, your words will come back to haunt you.
• Finally, if you want to shout about something, get up on the roof.

If you do any of the aforementioned stand by your computer, we are all armed with opinions and some are not scared to voice them. Who said Twitter was for saddos? Let us hope it is a bit quieter next week.

Blog About Climate Change

Act on Climate Change or this is the conversation I may be having with my granddaughter in ten years!

What is a Polar Bear? She said
It is like the Dodo, its extinct, I said

What is an ice cap? she said
It is like the ice cream you eat, I said
But that’s all gone, she said

What is a rainforest? she said
It is a field, I said

What is Climate Change? she said
It is your future, I said

Sing Birdies, Sing

I am not a person for New Years resolutions; instead, I strive every day to find something positive to see in others even when they lead their lives in the grey, dark, misty places of negativity and bitterness. It must be a very cold place, living in a world where everything someone else does, irritates you. A world where the sun never truly shines and never casts warmth and light.

Do not get me wrong, I love a good rant, but once the rant is done, I am over it. Until the next rant creeps up on me, unexpectedly!

The sun is beaming through the window of the office. My old dog is snoring on the doorstep. The leaves are clinging onto the trees stubbornly refusing to change colour. Everyone is out at work and the village is peaceful. What more can you ask for? Perhaps that is where the answer lies. The simple things are truly the most important. If we spent more time letting the sun truly warm us perhaps some of us could thaw our souls out a little.

When the birds outside my office sing, they sing in harmony. It isn’t scripted, each bird sings a different song but en masse, it may as well be a symphony. There are no pre-dawn meetings needed to discuss the tempo or the rhythm, each one is an individual and each voice is important. There is no fighting for supremacy, no under-hand 'knobbling' of the opposition, no greed for adulation. Perhaps out politicians should spend more time in the country!

Monday Morning, blurgh. Monday during term time, is the weekly dropping off of youngest daughter at school for weekly boarding. The older children both boarded full-time too. I hated that as well!

I have had my fair share of critics over the years for sending them to board. I have rarely defended myself. I do not see any point in explaining how they love the boarding environment, being with friends their own age, planning 'get togethers', whispering to each other after lights out, giggling over the latest pop god or discussing the latest 'reality' TV. Boarding has given them continuity of care and study time in a family life that is punctuated with my heavy workload. They loved coming home for holidays and weekends but it was obvious that they could not wait to go back either!

The most common comment thrown at me, 'how selfish, how can you abandon your own children?'. I have never abandoned them. I have worried and fretted late into the night over each of them. I have resented (occasionally) the bonds they have formed with the House Parent's and Matrons who have cared for them over the years. I have dreaded the end of each holiday drawing closer. I have taken myself off and cried after leaving them and not just at the beginning of term. My grief was never limited to the start of term time; it sprang upon me at its own choosing.

This weekend my ex husband and I took the youngest to see her new school. She absolutely loved it. Her excitement at seeing the school and her new boarding house was barely containable. This morning on the school run, I asked her, 'if there are no flexible boarding places left, how do you feel about boarding full-time?'. The answer cut like a knife. 'That would be great'. Great for you I thought, but what about me.

Sending my children to boarding school has never been an easy option for me. I adore all my children and dote on them, probably more than I should do. The research that goes into finding the next school is time consuming and mind blowing. Many parents encourage their children to go to University and expand their education, I just started earlier with mine. I look at the two older children, now young adults. They have a strong work ethic, are kind, considerate and accepting of others. I rarely clash with them. Perhaps they would have developed these traits had they gone to a local Comprehensive or a day school. Who knows?

The youngest is excited to be back at school today, she has been learning a jazz tune for her drum lessons and is rehearsing a new piece for her drama exam; she has stories of her new school to tell her friends. Meanwhile I am might just pop to her room, have a tidy round, and have one of those moments.