It's been a hard week, and it's been a long week, and at some point I'll get round to writing about it.
There have been lies, and nastiness and a long running deception was uncovered.

One blog pal has already been upset enough to give up her blog.
Whilst those others who have found out are feeling out of love with blogging right now.


For once, I'm not joking.

To answer one "commentator" on another blog post: No Jane I am not having a laugh.

So it's good to leave that behind and refocus.

I found Haricot's blog a while back, and I've been enjoying the calm. I love the detail of Japanese life. I love the poetry.

Haricot's agreed that I can link to her blog. And I'm going to be heading over to Haricot's  anytime I need calm reflection.
I hope you'll join me there.

Design from Haricot's blog.

It's the 20th October!
I repeat - it's the 20th October!

Lying in bed this morning,....it hit me.
 It's the 20th....

This is the day that Wayne died two years ago .

And I'd forgotten.
Jesus H.

Two years ago today, he was under heavy sedation. He was dying here, on a hospital bed, in the downstairs front room.
Reassured by doctors that he could still hear, I held the phone while the NZ relatives spoke to him.

Not fully understanding what was happening, because he still believed it would be alright in the end, the Cherub sat in with his dad, joked about him sounding like Darth Vadar and talked to him about x box, and walking the dog, and pasta for dinner again.

Our Macmillan night nurse came in at 9. This was Marie's second night, and I liked Marie.  She read to him through the night. She talked to him too.

At twenty past ten,  Marie came through to ask me to see Wayne.
Who had stopped sounding like Darth Vadar.

Because he was dead, "Peaceful at last..."

Wayne died at twenty past ten on the 20th of October, 2009.

A year ago I couldn't even think about this day without crying.
Today I forgot this was the day of his anniversary.

And I think this is a good thing.

Every Sunday now sees me hurling along the M8, crossing the Erskine Bridge, cutting round Dumbarton and driving along the shores of Loch Lomond.

Because my aged mother is fading.
 Not without a fight, and generally not without at least one argument with me daily. But she is fading, and You Do What You Can.
Which is, frankly, and let's not get too sentimental here, a lot more than she's done for me since the mid 1980's. But hey You Do What You Can and etc.

The stretch of road alongside Loch Lomond is one of the few highlights of the trip.
Scenic non?
And famous. One of the more famous lochs, if only because of some really trite songs pedalled about it and it featuring on shortbread tins and all.

Trust me though.  When it's been on your itinerary as part of a three hour round trip every bloody Sunday the novelty doesn't half pale.

Macy!
Oh Maa-a-acy! Yi there hen?

It's  Bob, one of the Good People of Cheesetown, and he's calling round to check out this blog.  Because Things Have Gone Quiet Again. Hell, Macy might be a manic Glaswegian drama queen, but she's still Cheesetown's manic Glaswegian drama queen. And Cheesetown cares.

And Something has Happened

Tis boding not well and all that....

Macy??? Helloo-oo-o

The silence sits heavy over the blog whilst metaphorical cobwebs blow sideways and dust drifts...

Mace??

She's no here.{ It's Bill Fromaccrosstheroad}

No here?
Naw, she'd a blog meet. Did yi no hear?
A blog meet? Macy?
Aye a blog meet. Like folks do these days an'a.

Didnae go well then?
Slow exhaling of breath whilst shaking head slowly.
Whathappened?
More slow exhaling of breath whilst shaking head slowly. She's saying nuthin. Nuthin ken.  Just laying low. Ah think that blog meet finished here.  Scared she comes accross him again, yi see?

Oh, aye. She might be gone awhile then?

Nah, this is Macy, mind.  And from what she tells me this other guy disnae even know her real name.