tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19162375189972975162024-03-14T18:49:27.954+00:00The Clare-Panton FamilyThe Mundane & Extraordinary Adventures of the Clare-Panton FamilyLaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.comBlogger1013125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-80925907859608362532016-01-30T10:13:00.000+00:002016-01-30T10:13:18.283+00:0012 years, 1 month and 5 days<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span data-offset-key="7i5ru-0-0"><span data-text="true">I am recovering from my daughter's 12th birthday Pamper Party last night. I gave 6 facials, 6 mini pedis/manis, 6 shoulder/head massages. They devoured 7 pizzas, countless fruit kebabs & fresh juice mocktails. They ate all the banana & maple syrup cupcakes (more about those later).</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">Every single one of those girls said please and thank you. They were helpful and gracious. They showered her with the most thoughtful gifts including a home made friendship token booklet which included "coupons" to redeem for "hugs" and "a shoulder to cry on". I honestly could not have been more touched by the incredible friendship these girls showed to my daughter.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">It has always been difficult for my daughter at her birthday. First off, her birthday is Christmas Eve. No one wants to come to a birthday party on Christmas Eve. I have tried. Then her brother became a chorister and even her family party had to be squeezed in between his singing responsibilities. We tried to fit her party in between everything else that was going on but we were never that successful. She hasn't really complained about it all that much.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">We don't have much money. If I could find 2 pennies to rub together, I'd be rich. So the prospect of trying to fund a birthday party seemed just out of our reach. But one morning at about 3 am (because that's when I get my best ideas) I had a brainwave to throw a small pamper party at our home with a few of Abigail's friends. After all, I'm a Neal's Yard Remedies consultant. I've got all the gear. I've been trained on how to give a wonderfully effective facial. I know how to paint nails. I've got one of those Indian head massage thingymajigs. I've even got one of those spa foot baths that takes up space in the spare bedroom. And I've got buckets and buckets of wonderfully natural and organic Neal's Yard Remedies products to use. I could even possibly, maybe teach the girls a few tidbits about how important what we put in and on our bodies is.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">Initially, I limited it to four girls. Then it became 5. A few days before the party it became 6, 7 if you include Abigail. I had enlisted the help of a couple older girls we know who had volunteered to help. I could do this.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">That was a big commitment from me. Struggling with my depression and anxiety there are few times when I feel strong enough to take a stand and say I can do something, especially something as big as a birthday party, which requires meticulous planning, a task I used to be able to do in spades but these days find all a bit overwhelming. I made a list. Then I made another list. I tried to combine the lists. I wrote up a carefully crafted time line of what I would need to do when. I made more lists.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">Still I experienced some hiccups along the way. The girls who were going to help couldn't in the end. They had some school commitments. OK, no big deal. I adjusted the plan. I would just have to work more quickly and do things at the same time and maybe not do everything I had hoped.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">I made the banana and maple syrup muffins and realised when I took them out of the oven that I used plain flour rather than self raising flour. Oops. Not a lot I could do about it so I just went with it. Then I cooked the second batch a bit too long. Like 10 minutes too long. I made extra frosting and topped up their flatness and covered up their darkness with tons of icing sugar and butter and hoped the awesome flavour would compensate for their density and hardness. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">I got all the beauty equipment laid out in the lounge with stations for each treatment. That's when I realised there wasn't adequate seating for 7 girls. There was for 5, 6 at a push, but not for 7. OK, well, they were going to have to figure that out.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">Then my grocery delivery was late. Not really late but just enough to cause me about 15 minutes of accelerated heart rate, shallow breathing, and curling up in a small ball. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">One of the girls came home with Abigail directly after school. Thank goodness. I put the girls to work on cutting up the fruit and putting it on to skewers for the fruits kebabs. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">Before I knew it, everyone was arriving. Parties are fun. First it was all quiet. Next thing I knew I had 7 12 year old girls giggling away in the next room. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">They got their juice and kebabs. One by one they got their facials, massages, manis, and pedis. I don't think I got everyone's nails painted. A couple of the massages were very short. Everyone got an exquisite facial though. One girl displayed an incredible talent for doing everyone's hair in a complex style. We had fishtail plaits, we had inside out plaits, we had around the head and down the side plaits. We had countless photos of the girls with cucumber slices on their eyes and they relaxed with their face masks on. We had meditative music. We had an exhaustive debate on the merits of music by Justin Beiber. We sang with Taylor Swift at the top of our lungs. I had a shockingly well informed discussion with one of the girls telling me all about why palm oil is so bad. Inside I was rejoicing.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">But I was running out of time. In a state of panic, I had requisitioned the help of my husband to do some nail painting. The girl looked horrified but Abigail assured her that her father was in fact must better at painting nails than her mother. This is a true statement. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">The end came all too quickly. </span></span>I don't think I've ever said that about a child's birthday party before. One girl wrapped her arms around my waist and gave me a proper hug when it was her turn to leave. I almost burst into tears.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">Abigail told me as we were tidying up that it was the best party ever. Not just the best birthday party or her best party, but the best party she had ever seen in her life. She went through all of the gifts she was given and marvelled at how thoughtful and how much effort must have went into the carefully chosen "just for Abigail" gifts were. She told me she was very lucky to have these girls as her friends. She told me how lucky she was to have me as her mum. She put herself to bed and it wasn't even 8 pm. She was exhausted.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3tpu2-0-0"><span data-text="true">I collapsed on the sofa with a glass of cider in hand. I was exhausted. It was worth every single moment.</span></span></div>
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LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-59055906169979312492016-01-28T14:40:00.000+00:002016-01-28T14:40:24.918+00:00Parents and Pyjamas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A headmistress at a school in the UK sent home a letter to parents telling them to stop wearing their pyjamas to school. If you are in the UK, I am sure you have heard all about this. If you are not, you can read a bit about it <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2016/jan/26/headteacher-asks-parents-to-stop-doing-school-run-in-their-pyjamas" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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I am outraged at the suggestion that the reason any school results are sagging is due to the fact that the parents are wearing pyjamas. In fact, the mere suggestion that this is to blame for the schools failure points out to me that the true failure quite probably sits more with the headmistress.<br />
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How dare she judge those parents. She doesn't know them. She doesn't know the battles they may be waging every day. Maybe they are struggling with depression, anxiety, or any other number of of mental illnesses. Maybe they are suffering from the side effects of chemo therapy or MS or god knows what other physical illness. Maybe they are struggling to make ends meet and working 2 or 3 or more jobs and only had a couple hours sleep. Or maybe they are so worried about their ageing parents they didn't sleep a wink last night. Or maybe they are fighting debilitating addictions and are doing the very best they can. <br />
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How dare that holier than thou woman who is supposed to be a role model for all the children in her charge stand up and rain down her judgement.<br />
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I have struggled with depression. Still do. I struggle with anxiety every single moment of my waking life. I don't sleep well. I am a big fan of slippers and pyjamas. There are many mornings where I forget to put on shoes when I leave the house. Or decide it doesn't really matter what shoes I wear. There are many a morning where I wear my pyjamas on the school run. Go on judge me, if you want.<br />
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But let me tell you this: I live for my children. I would die for them. One of the reasons I am in the state that I am is that I refused to give up fighting to give them the life I always dreamt of giving them until it almost killed me. Literally.<br />
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In my pyjamas and my slippers I am doing a whole hell of a lot better teaching my children than this headmistress is at teaching her children. What am I teaching them? <br />
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I am teaching them that it doesn't matter what a person wears or looks like. You don't judge a book by their cover. It is what is inside their heart and their head that matters. <br />
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I am teaching them that you don't judge at all. Ever. You have no right to judge anyone. Ever.<br />
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Work hard. Learn lots. Be grateful. Be kind. Be honest.<br />
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What should this headmistress be teaching?<br />
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Reading. Writing. Arithmetic. History. Science. Geography.<br />
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Instead she is blaming the parents for not getting dressed to her satisfaction. She is teaching them that there is always someone's shortcoming to blame for your failures.<br />
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I think this headmistress needs to learn a few lessons herself. In the meantime I may never get dressed again.</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-77101920370900163272016-01-26T11:48:00.000+00:002016-01-26T11:48:48.385+00:00What Am I Doing?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I don't mean this question to be existential although I could write a whole different post on that topic. The answer to this question is in response to several the question I get asked all the time by friends, acquaintances, job applications, and online forms. I don't fit neatly into a box. For years I did and it drove me crazy. Literally.</div>
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And the answer is complicated. So let me clear it up.</div>
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Before I begin, I must add a disclaimer. All of this is subject to change. At any moment. That's the other thing I learned when I was more crazy than I am now. Nothing is permanent. If something isn't working for me, I have the power to change it. I can quit doing something I'm currently doing without the fear of being judged or not living up to someone's expectations, mostly my own. I am the only judge of how my life is working and the choices I am making. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Life Modelling</b> </span></div>
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Yep, still doing that. Yep, still loving it. This year my career as a life model ramped up a notch when I contacted local independent and state schools in the area around me with Sixth Formers. For non-UK readers, that's people who are getting ready to leave mandated schooling at age 18ish. The art schools had changed their portfolio requirements for applicants and included life drawing as a required element. Before now, most schools had avoided having life drawing in the school because of the, well, "naked person in school" thing. I know some parents (although I must confess it is not many) who are horrified at the thought of their precious young girl (and yes, it is only the parents of girls) seeing a naked person. Seriously. </div>
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Thankfully, most of the schools I contacted recognised that it was time to make a change and I have been working with more than 10 schools since September. It is a very rewarding experience. Some of the schools are single gender and some are mixed gender. I tend to model fortnightly (every two weeks) for a couple hours after school. The students tend to be very nervous the first time but I do my very best to assure them they shouldn't be nervous. They aren't the ones having to stand naked in front of anyone. This makes them laugh. Within a nanosecond of me dropping my dressing gown, they come to the same realisation that all individuals who have done life drawing do and that is that a life model is merely a bowl of fruit. A most beautiful bowl of fruit but a bowl of fruit nonetheless. The human body is made up of lines and shapes and forms and curves (in my case, lots of curves).</div>
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The most rewarding part of my job is witnessing artists emerge from the quivering fear of these students. They experiment with colour and line and tone. They take risks with paint and pastels and pen. They stop being so critical of and precious with their work. They grow in confidence. It is truly a magical experience.</div>
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Many of them have applied to art schools around the UK. I am in countless portfolios and there is a part of me wondering if the people who review these portfolios have noticed that my form appears in so many of them. I do after all have a very distinct figure. I've had people in art classes tell me they've seen a painting of me at a gallery or a show despite the fact that my name is rarely mentioned.</div>
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I am hopeful that my encounter with these individuals does a little bit in helping them get into and be succesful at art school. That's their dream and it makes me so happy that I'm doing a tiny bit to help that dream come true.</div>
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To see some of the work that has been done of me check out my artistic services Facebook page, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/LargerThanLifeModelling/" target="_blank">Larger Than Life Modelling</a> . If you'd like to book me, you can contact me through that page.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Art Break</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiac2_OxFLM9TwC8eZdHcRzbPPrMjMnTEbJN_396KuNZ67xTZWmiqf-jsGNZszFlVHNbs8p1CHKoU3yxCrvWmUNbraJUAeLFUnMonVrilEW6aUP8H7ifh4IeVwHpEQs1OMm1RAEVsAm4NzK/s1600/12250129_1674848709425000_3795393580869384910_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiac2_OxFLM9TwC8eZdHcRzbPPrMjMnTEbJN_396KuNZ67xTZWmiqf-jsGNZszFlVHNbs8p1CHKoU3yxCrvWmUNbraJUAeLFUnMonVrilEW6aUP8H7ifh4IeVwHpEQs1OMm1RAEVsAm4NzK/s200/12250129_1674848709425000_3795393580869384910_n.jpg" width="158" /></a>In January I started up my very own life drawing class. I was involved in a life drawing class held in Sunninghill for a bit and I model occassional for a class at The Firestation Arts Centre in Windsor. But the Sunninghill class folded after the tutor could no longer continue and the class in Windsor is held at the very awkward time of Sunday evenings 5:30-7:30. Not many people want to venture out on a Sunday at tea time so class attendance tends to be low.</div>
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I have read numerous articles about how life drawing has been shown to be uber effective at combating the effects of dementia, as well as a very useful tool for combating stress, depression, anxiety and encouraging mindfulness. So I wanted the class to be as accessbile as possible to as many people as possible, regardless of age or ability.</div>
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Sure enough, the people coming to the class go up to age 80+. They've told me they have the best night's sleep after doing life drawing for just 2 hours. Some of them have never drawn before. Others drew when they were young but life got in the way.</div>
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It is currently held at various venues around Old Windsor, where I live. Each week I have a different art tutor drawn from my experiences as a life model. Some weeks are untutored. Each week also has a different model, male, female, young, old, big, small, every colour of the rainbow. Occassionally, I even model. The classes are held most Wednesday evenings, 7:30-9:30 pm. You can get more information about who the tutor and/or model is, as well as location details on the Facebook page <a href="https://www.facebook.com/ArtBreakBerks/?fref=ts" target="_blank">Art Break</a>. If you'd like to tutor, model, and/or attend, please get in contact via the Facebook page. There's no need to book. Just come along and enjoy the great soundtrack!</div>
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In May I plan on holding a life modelling class for individuals who would like to become a life model or existing life models who would like to enhance their current skills. </div>
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In June I hope to host a half day workshop for a large number of artists to have access to a large number of models all at once.</div>
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Stay tuned to the Facebook page for all the details.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Neal's Yard Remedies Consultant</b></span></div>
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In July I became an independent seller of Neal's Yard Remedies products. Initially I did this because I am wholly committed to doing my bit to do no more harm to the planet and make responsible choices about what I put in and on my body and the bodies of my family. </div>
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My children have hit puberty and with that has come the acne. I didn't want to be handing them skincare products full of microbeads and toxic chemicals. I started educating myself about the effects my shampoo and conditioner was having on the water supply. I learned about the dangers associated with cooking with certain oils. I became obssessed with the destruction of the nutrients in our soil and ultimately in our food through the destruction of our ecosystems through the use of pesticides and insecticides. My heart is breaking over the plight of the bees. I have gained an intense appreciation in the value of using natural and organic plant based products to provide a healthier and more sustainable lifestyle for my family and my world.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoRB9Rj_QW7G2H7fL-4pDRvEjqyvo2PCbxRxIM9GjjMZMqEIEx7tnNKcUH9nfMGipA0j44Xch7DPmDrsnXIM3bdZzMmFf7VA3wqwPZLBgY-GubE5j7Y8-WNx6MfJkv51SWFRiK6htBl5K7/s1600/1935861_987479257964500_1346724552861780100_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoRB9Rj_QW7G2H7fL-4pDRvEjqyvo2PCbxRxIM9GjjMZMqEIEx7tnNKcUH9nfMGipA0j44Xch7DPmDrsnXIM3bdZzMmFf7VA3wqwPZLBgY-GubE5j7Y8-WNx6MfJkv51SWFRiK6htBl5K7/s320/1935861_987479257964500_1346724552861780100_n.jpg" width="320" /></a>Then I decided to tell everyone I knew about it. Relentlessly. I hope those of you who have bought the Neal's Yard Rememdies products from me have realised the benefits. Once you try our products you never leave. You can currently get 20% off all natural health remedies. Visit <a href="https://uk.nyrorganic.com/shop/ladawnclarepanton" target="_blank">my website</a> to purchase.</div>
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If you haven't yet had a chance to talk to me about what you can do to make your lifestyle healthier, more sustainable and natural, please do get in touch by leaving a comment here or sending me a message on Facebook. I would be honoured to host a Wellness Seminar for you and any number of your friends. There is absolutely no pressure to buy. I am merely there to inform. And there are exclusive free gifts available if you do host a seminar.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugHtWcK3lHRs8TxZcu1YlxWyHDS4rm8G3bTNmKY97-v64CcdRt0OK1ri92-urV4agHSGLCc18GKaMCezc_JU8-NkopcJ0oRg8k2WEvlSUtXKj_4MkZ-IpMXJQos4Y2Qw_F-ZMfapRh8Tl/s1600/twitter-love-learn-earn-2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="105" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugHtWcK3lHRs8TxZcu1YlxWyHDS4rm8G3bTNmKY97-v64CcdRt0OK1ri92-urV4agHSGLCc18GKaMCezc_JU8-NkopcJ0oRg8k2WEvlSUtXKj_4MkZ-IpMXJQos4Y2Qw_F-ZMfapRh8Tl/s320/twitter-love-learn-earn-2016.jpg" width="320" /></a>If you think you might be interested in joining my little revolution, there is currently an amazing deal on becoming a consultant. There is no pressure to sell. At all. Ever. There is lots of motivation to spread the word about how what we eat, drink, and put on our face/bodies and the planet can change to encourage health and wellbeing. Get in touch with me here or my Facebook page.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Wild Side Social Media</b></span></div>
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And I have the little sideline (ahem) of running a small social media consulting company. The company helps small businesses harness the power of social media to grow their business. If you are the owner of a small business and find the world of websites, blogs, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Pinterest, Instagram, et al baffling, do get in touch. I can make it easy. Well, easier.</div>
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So tell me, should I be checking the full time, part time, or unemployed box?</div>
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LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-26216436691800730022015-05-04T11:21:00.000+01:002015-05-04T11:21:50.300+01:00Unexpected Outpouring of Generosity for Nepal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It all started with a simple idea. Instead of a whole bunch of people driving to Aldershot, I would combine efforts and collect a few things from local people who had things to donate and drive it all to the Army base for Ghurkas. It would save time and petrol. And it meant I could finally do a little something for the people of Nepal who had lost everything in the horrible earthquake that hit last week. It was only a small gesture.</div>
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After arranging to use our local village hall in Old Windsor as a drop off point and enlisting the help of a fellow resident, we discovered that the containers going to Nepal from Aldershot were already full. I had committed to people that their donations would go to Nepal so I needed to make sure that happened. But how?</div>
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In a Twitter storm, I initially received a vague commitment from the British Red Cross that they would take our donations. It later transpired that what they meant was they would take our donations and sell them in their shops for cash. I was unhappy with that arrangement as many of our items would be unsuitable for resale in the UK as they had been specifically chosen with the survivors of the disaster in mind. </div>
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Having filled my car with the donations from that day and due to demand, we secured the hall for a further drop off slot for the following evening. I spent the night looking for an organisation that would sort and ship the goods for us. Purely by chance, Twitter came to my rescue.</div>
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I spotted a tweet by the Leader of the Royal Borough of Greenwich, Councillor Denis Hyland, </div>
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<span class="screen-name"> </span><a class="pretty-link js-nav" data-send-impression-cookie="true" dir="ltr" href="https://twitter.com/CllrDHyland"><span class="screen-name"><s>@</s>CllrDHyland</span></a>. The tweet was a photograph of a flyer attached to a lamp post indicating that goods donations being taken at Eltham Leisure Centre and Woolwich Town Hall would be shipped to Nepal supporting the local Nepalese community. Greenwich apparently has the largest Nepalese community in Great Britain. The next morning I set off to Eltham.</div>
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The Leisure Centre was shocked by the quantity of goods we donated. I indicated that I would be returning the next day with the same again. I returned to Old Windsor just in time to open the doors of our village hall for the next donations.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhM05l67keyp8SlpbKpIE1r5XILy82lNSFPtDpK7FgqnMazhrMlYu5XbLYz04xXi1HyxW_u9SaPkNEAA-GAkb-XLhj9gyuw7JnoNjNf2oFu3tX3kBqbEy_AB3FogJ0tcjwPKafdBFoN-T/s1600/IMG_5858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhM05l67keyp8SlpbKpIE1r5XILy82lNSFPtDpK7FgqnMazhrMlYu5XbLYz04xXi1HyxW_u9SaPkNEAA-GAkb-XLhj9gyuw7JnoNjNf2oFu3tX3kBqbEy_AB3FogJ0tcjwPKafdBFoN-T/s1600/IMG_5858.JPG" /></a></div>
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What happened next was beyond my wildest dreams. The room started to fill up. Within the first 15 minutes, we had surpassed the volume of goods donated the day before. The parking lot was full. People were arriving with cars filled with bags. People brought tents. We received over 15 tents. We received sleeping bags, some used, some brand new with the tags still on them. We received baby nappies and food and wipes and clothes. We received shoes and boots and slippers. We received blankets, probably 100s of blankets. We received coats, hats, scarves, gloves, mittens.</div>
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As we neared the end of the three hour collection window, it became abundantly clear that I wouldn't fit it all in my car since it was already full. We had run out of room in the hall. We had filled my car and people were leaving bags just outside the door.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1uS1QowXZy2cHCFy2rvO3zw9OjctfdAs1_cHYjqirb9Q4yGOM1nES6eQHSbCmunMsatgM7UIt2lbmN5PGGaNiz8aw-MTkVE9Me79-p3lhfS5IKtdb6M1_7FFeEhWAX8mf7udFU1t3SvZ/s1600/IMG_5867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1uS1QowXZy2cHCFy2rvO3zw9OjctfdAs1_cHYjqirb9Q4yGOM1nES6eQHSbCmunMsatgM7UIt2lbmN5PGGaNiz8aw-MTkVE9Me79-p3lhfS5IKtdb6M1_7FFeEhWAX8mf7udFU1t3SvZ/s200/IMG_5867.JPG" width="150" /></a>Once again the power of social media swung into action. With more than a little from from my friends, we secured a small truck courtesy of Frontline Logistics, to meet me and a few others at the hall at 8 am on Friday morning. We loaded the truck FULL and headed off towards Eltham.</div>
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Mid journey I received a tweet from a member of the Nepalese community asking if we would deliver to Woolwich Town Hall as the sorting and packing centre was located there. We modified our destination and continued round the M25. </div>
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Arriving at just after 10 am, we were greeted at the door by a member of the borough. With the help of the countless volunteers, we set to unloading the truck. I was shown to the sorting room where a large number of Ghurka widows were sorting items and boxing it up. It was an incredible operation. Every box had to be labelled with contents itemised and weighed. The room was full of goods and volunteers. What initially looked like chaos was, upon careful inspection, a fine oiled machine.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirp-lCM3CHV66nMBP0aYz678_jE9VWbbaIS_N4_E07CKoUfhSLRE3LWfIbZ8oY2GsZ1XNyKqH4MrvLjJzgdc5B4ewK_43hnQ4ej6Wymk0Xvp4DBq4GrrcPI1TCZlWU6ZvwmiSISkZOwzoN/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirp-lCM3CHV66nMBP0aYz678_jE9VWbbaIS_N4_E07CKoUfhSLRE3LWfIbZ8oY2GsZ1XNyKqH4MrvLjJzgdc5B4ewK_43hnQ4ej6Wymk0Xvp4DBq4GrrcPI1TCZlWU6ZvwmiSISkZOwzoN/s200/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="200" /></a>I hand delivered a bag of baby shoes that one woman had handed to me saying that they were her children's baby shoes and had been kept carefully preserved in her loft all these years. She was donating them because the children of Nepal needed those shoes more than she needed those memories.<br />
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I also hand delivered a lovely 100% wool blanket that must have cost a fortune. It was given to me by a woman who told me it was her mother's who had passed away. She could still smell the scent of her mother on the blanket. Again, she felt the people of Nepal needed that blanket more than she did.</div>
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I wept at every story. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qgO2yrwjgYY7tqR8FagmkHuLRUcfwa0Or98M7fO0iZ1Pql3_CoxnwvEOkTk_B3lryloZMwGsgfDmH5CH9hxg07N0Bm6cF46oeEI599GzIbz5ILD2RnWJaY4Z_5x79R17otN6WRTwRrln/s1600/IMG_5872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qgO2yrwjgYY7tqR8FagmkHuLRUcfwa0Or98M7fO0iZ1Pql3_CoxnwvEOkTk_B3lryloZMwGsgfDmH5CH9hxg07N0Bm6cF46oeEI599GzIbz5ILD2RnWJaY4Z_5x79R17otN6WRTwRrln/s320/IMG_5872.JPG" width="320" /></a>I was introduced to the leaders of the Nepal community and they were touched by these stories. They were overcome with gratitude at the volume of goods we had come so far to deliver.</div>
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I was lucky to meet these leaders. Notably, I met Sonia and Fatta Thappa, who run <a href="http://www.skillsandcare.co.uk/" target="_blank">Skills and Care</a>, a dynamic, community-led, Nepalese social enterprise organisation. Fatta was the individual I was exchanging tweets with. I also met Sushila Karki of Nepalese Nurses, who have already sent doctors, nurses, and goods to Nepal and were planning to send more over the next few days.</div>
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I was satisfied that our community's donations would make it to the survivors of the earthquake. On Saturday, 2 May, 500 kg was shipped and 1600 kg will be shipped tomorrow, 5 May. </div>
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Our job is not done. Due to our overwhelming response, funds are needed to pay the cargo. You can help our goods get to Nepal by donating <a href="https://skillsandcare.nationbuilder.com/donate" target="_blank">HERE</a>.</div>
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I would like to personally thank Sarah Wants who helped me collect goods at the hall both days, even on the day of her son's 6th birthday and helped load the truck. Also, a big thanks to Chris at Frontline Logistics who donated the use of his truck and Fiaz who did the driving and loading/unloading at both ends. Also, thank you to the Old Windsor Memorial Hall who donated the use of the village hall and committee room on both days.<br />
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And lastly a big thank you to all of you who responded by opening your hearts and giving.</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-38667966149524652382015-04-30T11:58:00.000+01:002015-04-30T11:58:21.494+01:00Disgusted with Charity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The earthquake in Nepal has hit me hard. I can't watch the television or read the newspapers without ending up in floods of tears. I feel so utterly helpless.<br />
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These people have so little and we have so much and then the earth literally moves under their feet and what little they have is taken away from them. They have lost their friends, families, homes, jobs, everything in just a few minutes. They are sleeping in the open. They are living in constant fear and they are grieving.<br />
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Charities race into action. My television, my email, my phone is flooded for requests for donations. They all want money. Money. Money. Money. I get told that it is easier and cheaper to source goods locally than to transport second hand goods. I get told they don't have warehouses and sorting centres. I get told it's too hard for them to take goods to disaster zones. I'm told to donate the goods to the local charity shop who will sell them for MONEY. I'm told that transportation costs are too high (and yet flights are still arriving in Nepal).<br />
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I find this disgusting for so many reasons.<br />
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<li>Not everyone has money to give but everyone has the capacity to give something.</li>
<li>A charity which aims to help people in need are unwilling to tackle the difficulties involved.</li>
<li>When offered donated goods, charities turn their noses up. </li>
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Yesterday I collected bag after bag of badly needed supplies to help the people in Nepal in just a few hours. People like me who didn't have money to give, or maybe had already given money as well, took it upon themselves to give their belongings. We received things badly needed in Nepal like sleeping bags, tents, blankets, coats, shoes, hats, scarves, children's clothing, kitchen utensils, dry food. I was so touched by people's generosity that I found myself on the verge of tears all day.<br />
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We have another collection scheduled for today. But now I'm not sure what I am going to do with the goods. <br />
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Originally, these goods were destined for a British Army collection in Aldershot but the outpouring of generosity meant that these containers filled up very quickly and by mid morning they were full.<br />
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My car is full of these goods because as of this morning I have no where to take them. The British Red Cross initially agreed to the transportation and distribution of the goods. What they were really agreeing to was for me to drop these things off at one of their shops so they could resell it. <br />
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I've spoken to <i>DEC</i> only to find that all they want is MONEY.<br />
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Global Hands can't help me because I'm not an official organisation.<br />
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<i>Age UK, Oxfam, British Red Cross,</i> and the lot only want my goods for resale in their charity shops.<br />
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I am trying to contact the Ghurka division of the British Army to see if they are interested.<br />
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<b>NEWS BULLETIN: No one in the UK needs a second hand wooden spoon. Thousands in Nepal need wooden spoons to stir their meagre rice being cooked over an open flame in the outdoor in a crowded tent camp.</b><br />
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I have been in contact with the Nepal Youth Foundation who help thousands of children in Nepal. They are desperate for our goods.<br />
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I was warned this might be difficult. When we first communicated our desire to collect goods, there were a couple people who warned us not to do it. We dismissed those naysayers because it was the right thing to do. I still think what we are doing is the right thing to do.<br />
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But I need your help. If anyone out there knows how we can get these items to Nepal, please contact me urgently. </div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-62690468365897904652015-04-01T08:09:00.000+01:002015-04-01T08:09:00.295+01:00Me versus the Depression<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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For a long time I thought the depression was going to win and here's the thing: when you are depressed you always think the depression is going to win. But here's the other thing: it doesn't if you keep fighting.</div>
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When I was first diagnosed I wanted to know when I would get better, how long is the recovery period? Like when I broke my ankle, I knew I would be in a cast for 3 weeks, then physio for 6 weeks and then I would be almost good as new. For the most part, this was true, give or take a few weeks.</div>
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With depression, there is no defined recovery period. I have seen people bounce back after a 3 month dose of citrolapram and never look back. I've seen people who have fought all their lives against this insidious illness.</div>
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In the early days, my psychiatrist assured me I would get better. I asked him how long that would take. He said something vague like "a while". When I pressed him for something more concrete, he was unable to provide any time frames. At the time I thought he must not be very good at his job. But now I can see that there really isn't any way to predict recovery.</div>
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The effectiveness of medication changes over time. The effectiveness of therapy is wildly variable. What happens in life is outside a clinical study and therefore cannot be factored into a recovery timetable. In other words, you just have to ride it out and have faith that eventually you will get better.</div>
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But if you think that getting better means going back to the same person you were before you were ill, you are in for a big surprise. You never come out of depression the same person you were going in. Many of the behaviours and thoughts you had before were the very things making you ill. It's like drinking poison, recovering, and expecting to stay better but going back to drinking the poison.</div>
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Everyone comes out of depression fundamentally different than when they went in. Same as when cancer survivors come through but their lives are fundamentally changed thereafter.</div>
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Here are some of the things that have helped me recover to the point where I am today:</div>
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<li>Take the prescribed medication as and when your psychiatrist prescribed it. Don't mess with that. If you think you might be ready to make a change, discuss these with your psychiatrist and agree a plan. Follow that plan to the letter. Trust me. I once took myself off my meds because I thought they were making me worse. That was simply put, one of the worst decisions I have ever made in my life and probably set my recovery back a year, perhaps more.</li>
<li>Get a tribe. You will need to be surrounded with people who get you and get your disease. You will need people who will allow you the freedom to discover a new you. You will need people who will love you unconditionally. You will need people who will come to you even when you tell them to go away. This tribe will consist of some old friends and some new friends. Family may not or may not be included. My children get it better than my husband does. Maybe that's because children generally get unconditional love better than adults. I have lost a few people I thought were my friends along the way but I have more than gained in the overall friendship sweepstakes. Ask that tribe for help when you can. Give back to that tribe. They are invaluable and deserve your investment.</li>
<li>Find contentment in the present moment. Don't strive for happiness. It is fleeting and impossible to sustain. Instead be at peace with what is happening, good or bad, in the present, right here, right now. When the shit hits the fan, feel free to duck and cover but be at peace with the exercise. Know that this too will pass.</li>
<li>Invest in yourself. Increase your self awareness. Change your habits if you don't like them or just accept them as part of your rich tapestry as a human being. Be as kind to yourself as you are to others. Forgive yourself and those around you. Embrace yourself as a totally unique individual that has limitless potential. Sounds new agey and hippy groovy, but when you stop having expectations and judgements of yourself and others, you will start to feel contentment in the moment. Avoid drama. Not your monkeys, not your circus.</li>
<li>Breathe. When all else fails, breathe. I know this sounds stupid and I've lost count of the number of times I've rolled my eyes when someone tells me this. But it works. When you think you can't face another moment, stop. Stop thinking. Stop moving. Just stop everything. And breathe. In slowly. Out slowly. And again. All day if you have to. </li>
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I am certain my journey has not ended. The shower (& bath) proves to be an ongoing nemesis. I find contentment when once in I'm there but getting there is a major struggle every day. So I've changed what it means to be ready to face they day. That may or may not include, as is more often the case, a clean and fresh smelling me. My tribe loves me regardless. Social situations are challenging but I am taking them one at a time and engaging more often than not these days.<br />
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But the proof is in the results.<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>I am writing again! This is the biggest achievement so far. I abandoned my first novel as it had me in knots. I started a whole new one that had been assembling itself in my brain for a few years and in just 10 days over 110,000 words came out of my head through my fingers and hit the keyboard. I hit save. I'm actively sending it out to potential agents every day and have some interest.</li>
<li>My life modelling becomes a bigger and bigger part of my life. I model nearly every week at least once and most weeks more than 3 times. It helps me to be still, physically literally and mentally in practise. I use the time for positive affirmations, meditating, and breathing. It also helps me to accept the beauty (both inside and out) of who and what I am in that moment. I can't envision how I would have recovered without it.</li>
<li>I don't listen to others thoughts on how or what I should or should not be doing unless they are part of my tribe. Even those in my tribe, know that whilst I may take their advice under consideration, I am free to choose what I feel is best for me. And they love me still.</li>
</ol>
Near as I can tell I am winning, 1-0. <br />
<div>
</div>
</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0Old Windsor, Windsor and Maidenhead, UK51.462058 -0.5808359999999765951.442271 -0.62117649999997659 51.481845 -0.54049549999997659tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-822062869028064232015-03-31T08:30:00.000+01:002015-03-31T08:30:03.711+01:00A Work of Art<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CGs2axx0rNw/UzQdEUc8kDI/AAAAAAAACo8/yhrF6o7aLGI/s1600/Photo%2B02-12-2013%2B20%2B32%2B20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CGs2axx0rNw/UzQdEUc8kDI/AAAAAAAACo8/yhrF6o7aLGI/s1600/Photo%2B02-12-2013%2B20%2B32%2B20.jpg" height="143" width="200" /></a>Since dipping my toe in the water of life modelling back in October 2012, I think it would be fair to say that I have whole heatedly embraced it as a career.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am now modelling several times a week most weeks. A few weeks ago I modelled 7 days in a row and some days had 2 assignments per day. Those days I am exhausted and by the end of that week my body ached.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
You may ask yourself what is so hard about sitting still for 3 hours. I dare you to try it and not be sore.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Some weeks I have no gigs scheduled, like last week. That give me some time to rest and recuperate. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have some regular groups that I model for and some people have been drawing me for years now. Others are thrilled to the first time to discover that I am a curvy model who is proud of her bulges and scars and stretch marks.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The artists are very complimentary of my ability to sit perfectly still for long periods of time. One once accused me of not breathing or blinking. Rest assured. I am breathing. And I think I blink. They also often ask me what I think about when I sit there. To be honest, I'm not sure.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Most times I think of nothing. Nothing at all. What a glorious feeling it is not to be worrying about something or someone, or making a grocery list, or remembering a phone call I need to make or an email I need to write, or tidying the house, or unloading the dishwasher, or nagging the children to do their musical instrument practise or my husband to clean out the garage (ahem!). </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Modelling is the time where I allow myself to simply be. To be still and quiet while having your body turned into glorious pieces of artwork that is as unique and beautiful as each artist is an inspiring opportunity. They all see me differently. They all have different abilities and tools. They all produce art in their own individual styles.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm proud of my work as a life model. You should try it! If you want an opportunity, just leave me a comment.</div>
</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0Old Windsor, Windsor and Maidenhead, UK51.462058 -0.5808359999999765951.442271 -0.62117649999997659 51.481845 -0.54049549999997659tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-82990145682809312422015-03-30T08:00:00.000+01:002015-03-30T12:36:26.465+01:00A Week in Cornwall<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVMQyt2inJ-s1-NKx7YXAxCH2DUXAnw5y7VTugB6KnvA7q_2hnOicspqSvq0Ldftcey3oWRr1LpI4fQRBc6opRMD0oyKe-qilRtCZ7XKLyMDWXx6YLrTRkkB0nBFAg5X7Enr-mMLte56px/s1600/SennenCove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVMQyt2inJ-s1-NKx7YXAxCH2DUXAnw5y7VTugB6KnvA7q_2hnOicspqSvq0Ldftcey3oWRr1LpI4fQRBc6opRMD0oyKe-qilRtCZ7XKLyMDWXx6YLrTRkkB0nBFAg5X7Enr-mMLte56px/s1600/SennenCove.jpg" height="185" width="320" /></a></div>
A week in Cornwall can work miracles, at least that is how it appears to me.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As many of you will know, I have been suffering from the debilitating effects of depression and anxiety for several years now. I have been hospitalised on 3 different occasions. I take no less than 13 pills every single day to keep the chemicals in my brain finely balanced.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The good news is, they appear to be working finally.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I remember when this all started asking my psychiatrist how long it would be until I was better. He said "A long time." I thought he meant 6 months, maybe a year on the outside. I had no idea that it would take several years and several tweaks of the medication, several more years of psychotherapy, and even more time just trying to overcome the demons that ranted inside my head.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
For now, the demons are quiet. They aren't completely silent. I can tell when I've missed taking my medication. So can my friends and family. I leave the house regularly now without the pit of dread tightening in my stomach. I still find social situations uncomfortable which is annoying because that isn't how I see myself or how I used to be. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But the demons have reduced their screeching to a mere whisper. And some days, I don't hear them at all.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In mid-February, a very generous friend offered us the use of their seaside cottage down in St Ives in that gorgeous southwest corner of England known as Cornwall. <a href="http://www.ownersdirect.co.uk/accommodation/p8158464#summary" target="_blank">The cottage is absolutely delightful and exceeded every one of our expectations.</a> We took my daughter's best friend and her mother with us. It was an eventful few days to say the least.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
On the first day we were there, our one-year-old black Labrador puppy, Guinness, decided to take a flying leap (literally) off a sea wall. I have that moment of her suspended in midair between her jumping and her falling etched into my mind's eye. She looks like a cartoon. She fell 30 feet to the rocks and grass below. I ran to see her landing on her rear haunches, yelp, and try to stand. She struggled and whimpered.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My husband managed to get down to her. He tried to get her to walk but it was clear she was hurting and had a minor cut on her knee. She was shaking and her heart was racing. She was going into shock. My husband carried her down the hill and went to get the car. We raced to the vet.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Fortunately, after several hours at the vets on a fluid drip, antibiotics, opiates, and tranquilisers, she made a full recovery and was just sore for a couple days. Talk about stressful!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The next night we were informed that a combination of spring tides (when the tides are at their highest) and rough seas caused by the gale winds and torrential overnight rains would mean that the sea was likely to breach the seawall at the harbour in St Ives. Our cottage was perfectly placed just a few doors up from the seawall at the harbour which was a great location until that warning was issued. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Every few hours we made our way the few steps down the street to evaluate the threat. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure as the waves crashed over the wall and into the buildings on the seafront. In the end, this also passed without any real danger posed to man or beast.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We spent the days walking on the beaches (there are no fewer than 5 beaches around St Ives) and walking around the town exploring galleries and art museums and used book stores and odd little shops. We ate out. We cooked in. I even got breakfast in bed one morning delivered by my daughter and her friend. What a treat!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I was surrounded by positivity and tranquillity on the trip. When I returned home I felt as if a fog had lifted. I started writing. At first it was just in my head. A story had taken hold of me and was busy organising itself. Then 2 weeks ago it felt like the harbour wall had collapsed and the sea of words was rushing to get out.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I sat at my computer every day, some days for more than 14 hours. I managed to write over 110,000 in 10 days. It was emotional. One day I started crying about 5 pm and kept crying through the night until about noon the next day. The tears lasted on and off until I was finally able to finish that chapter.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The book, All My Loves, is about a woman dying of a brain tumour. She is in the hospital and in the final stages of dying. She is revisited by the memories of the men she loved and those who loved her. Some are good memories. Some are excruciatingly painful memories. Same are hilarious. Woven into the story is also the love of her parents as they divorce and remarry, and the love of her grandmother towards her alcoholic husband who died with their youngest son in a drunken car crash. It is about how love changes us, not always for the better. It's a little bit saucy. What book about love could possibly avoid sex? It's sad but it is also hopeful, I think.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am now in the editing phase. I have edited the first three chapters with the help of a very dear friend of mine who is labouring away on the next 8 chapters. The editing was more difficult than the writing. Who would have guessed?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am now looking for a literary agent. I have someone who has expressed a possible interest which is very exciting but I'm not counting my chickens until a contract is on the table.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The road to publication is long and winding. But the words are still flowing out of me. So, I am back to blogging. I also have an illustrated children's book that I completed a few years back with a very dear friend who did wonderful illustrations for me. I've got to get that all gathered up and repeat the agent process for it. I have several more ideas for novels inside my head. I need to let those organise themselves but one is already starting to take form. I might be back burning the midnight oil when that comes out of me. Finally, I've got the novel I started before my depression took over my life. I want to go back to it and see if I can do anything with it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy my musings.</div>
</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0Old Windsor, Windsor and Maidenhead, UK51.462058 -0.5808359999999765951.442271 -0.62117649999997659 51.481845 -0.54049549999997659tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-38035918403387977672015-03-28T08:52:00.000+00:002015-03-28T08:52:00.292+00:00The A-Z of I Dislike.......<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The A-Z of I Dislike</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Hate is too strong of a word)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………assholes, anxiety, Alzheimers, acne</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………brussel sprouts, boasting, bullies, bills, basketball</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………cancer, chauvinism</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………dishonesty, depression</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………emptiness, estrangement, extremists</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………flies, falling, failing, fanatics, falsehood,
farewells, frauds, football</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………gerbils, greed, grief, genocide, gossip, guns</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………haters, homophobia, homelessness, hamsters,
hangovers, hypocrisy</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………inequality, ignorance, intolerance, imbeciles,
idiots</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………jellyfish, jargon, jaundice, jealousy, jingoism,
judgement</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………knots, kidnappers</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………lies, loss, loneliness </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………misery, materialism, miscarriages, menopause,
mortgage</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………nausea, nightmares, necromancy </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………ostentation, obstinacy, odium</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………peas, pain, pretension, prejudice. Paranoia,
parting, puberty, poverty</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………quarrels, quitters</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………racism, rapacity, rain, riots, rudeness</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………snakes, spiders, strife, starvation, suffering,
sorrow, sadness</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………tardiness, tempers, tantrums, torture</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………umbrage, unemployment</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………vulgarity, vampires, villains, vivisection</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………war, wastefulness, weapons</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………xenophobia</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………yobs</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dislike………zoos, zeros</div>
</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0Old Windsor, Windsor and Maidenhead, UK51.462058 -0.5808359999999765951.442271 -0.62117649999997659 51.481845 -0.54049549999997659tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-63737907805759498292015-03-27T08:59:00.000+00:002015-03-27T08:59:00.132+00:00The A-Z of I Love......<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The A-Z of I Love.....</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….art, authors, Almond Roca, air, adrenalin,
adventures, allotments</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….books, beaches, breathing, balloons, butterflies,
blizzards, breakfast in bed, baseball, buxom bosoms</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….coffee, cats, camping, chimpanzees, chile rellenos,
my children, Creed, curiosity, cake, cellos, cowboys, candles</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….dolphins, doctors, diamonds, daisies, Degas,
diversity</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….elephants, electricity, eggs, entymology,
excitement, equality, elastic</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….friends, fudge, Facebook, feathers, firefighters,
fjords, fountain pens, feminism, feasts</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….giraffes, gardens, gowns, gallantry, our galaxy,
gargoyles, gin, grace, giving</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….my husband, history, hot tubs, herbs, handwriting,
honour, hammocks </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….Cherry Garcia ice cream, intelligence</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….jasmine, jugglers, jazz, jewellery, journals,
justice, jumpers</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….knitting, kissing, kedgeree, kites, kudos, The Kite Runner, Kylie</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….lemons, laughter, Labradors, life modelling,
lobster, letters, lilacs, levi 501s</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….the moon, Mexico, Matisse, Maroon 5, massages, mani/pedis,
memories</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….neighbours, nachos, my nose, newborn babies, New
York Times (Sunday edition)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….oceans, orangutans, opera, owls, opportunity, One Direction</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….poker, the planets, Pinterest, pomegranates,
platinum, pumpkin pie, Pimms, peace</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….quilting, quiet, quays</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….reading, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, rainbows, raffles,
rapture, rodeos, The Ramones, reunions</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….snow, sunshine, scientists, my sister, slippers,
silence, singing, stationary, serenity, satisfaction, Scotland, soldiers, stars, sex</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….telephones, toffee, trees, tea, tambourines,
theatre, thimbles, thoroughbreds, thunder, Twitter, Taylor Swift, travel</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….unicorns, the universe, udders, ukeleles</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….volunteers, vacations, valentines, vaccinations,
valet parking</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….whipped cream, writing, wind, waves, white
burgundy wine, wonder, wisteria</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….x-rays, xylophones</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….yachts, yellow</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love……….zebras, zygotes</div>
</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0Old Windsor, Windsor and Maidenhead, UK51.462058 -0.5808359999999765951.442271 -0.62117649999997659 51.481845 -0.54049549999997659tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-85691558934145409922015-03-26T09:47:00.001+00:002015-03-26T09:47:37.639+00:00The A-Z of I Am.......<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I am………..Amazing, Authentic, Awesome, Articulate, Anxious</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Beautiful, Brilliant, Bewitching, Bodacious, Bookish</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Cute, Clever, Considerate, Careful, Curvaceous,
Creative, Curious</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Dedicated, Diligent, Delicate</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Elegant, Extravagant, Economical, Enthusiastic,
Energetic, Eloquent</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Fun, Funny, Fair, Friendly, Fabulous, Forgiving</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Graceful, Grateful, Gracious, Glorious, Gentle,
Genuine, Generous</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Honest, Honourable, Handy, Happy, Helpful,
Hilarious, Hopeful</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Incredible, Imaginative, Idiomatic, Impressive,
Inquisitive</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Joyful, Joyous, Jaunty, Judicious</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Kind, Knowledgeable</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Loyal, Loving, Limber, Liberal, Lively, Luscious</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Magnificent, Merciful, Mischievous</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Nice, Neat, Nurturing, Nervous</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Organised, Original</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Polite, Prudent, Peaceful, Passionate, Pensive,
Patient, Paranoid</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Quick, Questioning</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Resourceful, Reasonable, Remarkable, Resolute,
Responsible </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Successful, Supple, Super, Sensitive, Sentimental, Suspicious</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Thrilling, Talented, Terrific, Thoughtful, Trusting</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Unconventional, Unique, Understanding,
Unpretentious, Useful</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Visionary, Vibrant, Victorious, Vivacious</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Wise, Warm, Welcoming, Wonderful, Worthy</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..not Xenophobic</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Youthful</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am………..Zany, Zealous</div>
</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-52414175128004350652014-01-01T13:45:00.001+00:002014-01-01T13:45:44.572+00:00Please Write<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8oo3JG54Y0t63e8U40kpuC-Dk93ghqyT-6p42Qv8NbgWSNkdIUtKzqmrOKcgvCMlDTncbT5OK-JNt-h6Xj8y4MRDoScrVj8IiROo0cajplfZukKsFMNeLcntqAWJmqRZcowCcjHP4K_T/s1600/lostartletterwriting.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP8oo3JG54Y0t63e8U40kpuC-Dk93ghqyT-6p42Qv8NbgWSNkdIUtKzqmrOKcgvCMlDTncbT5OK-JNt-h6Xj8y4MRDoScrVj8IiROo0cajplfZukKsFMNeLcntqAWJmqRZcowCcjHP4K_T/s320/lostartletterwriting.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I didn’t send Christmas cards this year. There.
I’ve said it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Normally, I send well over 300 cards to just about every
corner of the globe. It costs us a small
fortune in postage and is a huge effort.
Every year I struggle to get Marc and the children to sign them and very
rarely do I manage to get them all done in time to get them to their final
destination before the big day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t mind the cost.
Or the effort. I don’t even mind
that I receive less than 50% of that number back. I am happy just knowing that I reached out
and said hello.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But this year I wanted to do something more than just say
hello. This year I wanted to reward and
recognise the effort that those of you made when they sent us a card/letter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since I usually manage little more than a scribbled,
illegible note and our signatures, I have vowed to send a handwritten,
personal, old fashioned letter to everyone who sent a holiday greeting card to
our family.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Grandmother was a great letter writer. In fact, the entire family regarded her letters
as an informal family newsletter. She
kept everyone up to date on what was happening with everyone else. When my Grandmother died, I found great
comfort in discovering the stacks of letters that had been written to her in
response to letters she had written. But
most comforting (and painful in equal measure) were the stack of letters that I
found I had written to her over the years.
Most of them span the timeframe from when I left university and moved
abroad. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The changes I underwent as I faced the challenges ahead of
me make for some hilarious and some excruciating reading. But then I brought those letters home and
matched them up to the letters she wrote back to me. Every single week.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They are an invaluable collection of advice and guidance
given and taken. They are filled with
comfort and encouragement. They are full
of the tidbits of our lives as they were and reflect our growth. They are the perfect picture of her and
me. They are my most valuable
possession.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In that spirit, I embark on sending a proper letter complete
with illegible handwriting and mundane details of the weather. But also, I hope, a little bit of me and my
family; a little bit of what happened and what lies ahead. You will receive one of these letters if we
received a card from you. And if you
failed to send a card, don’t worry. I
promise to reply back with a handwritten letter to every hand written letter we
receive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Facebook, tweets, emails and ecards don’t count. Whilst I am a big fan of electronic
communication tools, in fact I would be lost without them, I still believe in
the pen and paper. There will come a
time when I will leave this world, much later than today one hopes. When that time comes, it will prove next to
impossible to recover the emails and ecards sent to me. I doubt that anyone will even bother. These digital records of our relationships
will be lost along with our heartbeat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But a soul lives on in the letters we write and send on
paper. They are tangible. They are real. You can take them with you on the long journey
of life. And I hope you do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On my darkest days, and I have more than I would like to
count, I reach into the box that contains my Grandmother’s letters, the cards
from my mom and dad, my sister, my friends.
It is the ones that tell me what they have been doing and what they want
for me that lift me up and help me to take the steps I need to continue to move
forward. Without these letters/cards I
dread to think what would happen to me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Please write.<o:p></o:p></div>
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LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-47955208563533313232013-10-05T13:04:00.003+01:002013-10-05T13:04:55.305+01:00Rough Music by Patrick Gale<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpy7O1FiGhSesa7HtDYsINTPNCuamlG65uqYkYZ9ivpEPVDObsRiLii3BvWYraHEq-OfbIx4cMKR2NJuAHc3LdOIL61G2eCgS2jLR_yi0BEKxn3ZpILy3ZgyI_q712HnY22fQOYSvF4xYb/s1600/roughmusic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpy7O1FiGhSesa7HtDYsINTPNCuamlG65uqYkYZ9ivpEPVDObsRiLii3BvWYraHEq-OfbIx4cMKR2NJuAHc3LdOIL61G2eCgS2jLR_yi0BEKxn3ZpILy3ZgyI_q712HnY22fQOYSvF4xYb/s200/roughmusic.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My reading is far outpacing my writing and posting of reviews on this blog. I refuse to apologise. But I absolve to correct this imbalance of priorities and set myself the task of catching up. No promises though!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Patrick Gale is quite simply one of my favourite authors. I love everything he writes so it will come as no surprise when I tell you that I loved this novel. I loved the way I got sucked into the idyllic setting and the idea of a perfect, happy childhood. I was sucked into believing everything the characters believed.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Mr Gale writes clear exquisite detail without losing his readers in long wandering, aimless paragraphs of prose when your eyes glaze over. Instead he skips the through his plots and before you know it you are fully engaged in the outcome.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Will invites his parents to join him on a beach holiday not realising that he is about to step into a hornet's nest of powerful memories. His mother suffers dementia. Will is having an affair with his brother-in-law which he has tried and failed to end. This could so easily have become all a bit of a soap opera as we travel back and forth in time to Julian's (Will's childhood name) messy childhood and Will's messier adulthood.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But it doesn't become melodramatic in the least. Instead the story reminds us that we all have a bit of a mess inside of us and lived messy lives at various times.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Julian (aka Will), as a character, is not all that easy to like. I never quite trust people who tell me they had a perfect childhood and have a perfect life. I suspected all along that the reality would be revealed in time.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I was mildly annoyed with the stereotypical representation of Americans but I let that wash over me.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I highly recommend reading this book and gave it a 4 out of 5 stars on Goodreads.</div>
</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-51073527093482053782013-07-09T10:06:00.000+01:002013-07-09T10:06:50.120+01:00A Million Shades<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXVlTL0bUiNUUyZEmRgyk_rJMwEm1qMZ71GNncRl5f1yCuRLM0qEwZXyQ87s6zjUkdH8gQx8PgKeLd57MyA6adoBQEdj-fJhVLid1WKg6L9m-ft9Zv_N8n0fnBNUAL-e-VJWydd3oCVdPz/s1600/LCPeye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXVlTL0bUiNUUyZEmRgyk_rJMwEm1qMZ71GNncRl5f1yCuRLM0qEwZXyQ87s6zjUkdH8gQx8PgKeLd57MyA6adoBQEdj-fJhVLid1WKg6L9m-ft9Zv_N8n0fnBNUAL-e-VJWydd3oCVdPz/s200/LCPeye.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The day begins one eye at a time. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
First I check the time. Have I slept too much? Too little? Too late? Do I care?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Then I check the weather. Do I need to turn on my lumi light? Will it make a damn bit of differene? Will this rain ever stop? Do I really need to turn on the heating in June? The sun is shining so I am going to need to come up with a bloody good excuse to not go for a walk.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Finally, I ask myself the dreaded question: HOW DO I FEEL TODAY?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Am I "fine"? Unlikely. In fact, I'm not entirely certain I remember what fine feels like.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Am I "shitty"? Quite possibly but perhaps a wholly inappropriate response to a socially conventional question unless my desired outcome is to alienate those who care for and love me.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The trouble begins in the million shades of grey between "fine" and "shitty".</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I close my eyes again wishing that everything was different. Wishing that my battle with the darkness had never begun. Wishing the war was won and that I had conquered that foreign land forever more. A conventional happy ending.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Alas, I return to the fight everyday, sometimes donning my mask of armour to face the ignorance and cruelty of others and sometimes just my own anxieties.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Other times I can't bear putting on the armour and I remain metaphorically naked for the day unable to leave the security of my home or my head spending my times wandering around the rooms and wondering where the time when I'm absent.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My armour is honestly a lousy garment for protection. It doesn't stop my own thoughts from hurting me. I recall the days when I felt invincible, strong, and happy; when I felt the future held such promise. I didn't dread the sun rising.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Now I refuse to think about the future because it frightens the shit out of me. I can't plan a party. Or a holiday. I can't plan what's for dinner.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
For me, the future is dark. The future is frightening and I start cowering in the corners of the day when I first open my eyes. Every day.</div>
</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-38243942261578323072013-07-08T17:16:00.001+01:002013-07-08T17:16:44.067+01:00Does writing about my depression help me?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPU94OS2G9Aphn2yZaDnUJmVw2XkOb9aeOuDbpsqRNs4rRIb4a_C92wNdbQoVOU-QAobvXhWefwYEwR-DRx5fWAejJHDJtvzpeU5wKzS3UdX_OIPazDRBcy1cIXDIpae83kZyN4y9eb22u/s1600/Why.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPU94OS2G9Aphn2yZaDnUJmVw2XkOb9aeOuDbpsqRNs4rRIb4a_C92wNdbQoVOU-QAobvXhWefwYEwR-DRx5fWAejJHDJtvzpeU5wKzS3UdX_OIPazDRBcy1cIXDIpae83kZyN4y9eb22u/s200/Why.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
No. Or at least, it doesn't feel like it does.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, why do I do it?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Partly because I always write, if not on paper, then in my head.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Mostly, I do it for my friends and my family. I do it to help them understand the torment inside my head. Somehow it comes out better in words I write than when I speak. Speaking is difficult. I get lost in my thoughts and my words become all jumbled. And sometimes when I get frustrated trying to express myself I start to stutter. Then I get anxious and here we go on a downward spiral.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When I write it is all just a bit easier to make sense of it. No one is looking at me. No one is nodding their head. No one is finishing my sentences for me. No one is interrupting.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I also do it for others who know someone afflicted with this horrible illness. Maybe if they read what I've written, it will give a tiny little insight into our spectrum of darkness.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Finally, I suppose I write it in the hope that it reaches out and touches someone who is struggling today and helps them take one step towards the light. </div>
</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-89371725467338765952013-07-06T10:40:00.002+01:002013-07-06T11:00:25.400+01:00Not Good Enough<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYMlzMSQk5dcIUfXoeuGXbWaYdczoIVMGHDAcj_Pb_KSmVNfPyu9JuKdqGZMiOvu5X_BidPE30ndkyH6LrRlSj98msbOgZcPP2PDnpWKvVHc6OMXb7aQNaRoLl1ITL39KJgKayYhCQClC/s1600/NotGoodEnough.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="77" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYMlzMSQk5dcIUfXoeuGXbWaYdczoIVMGHDAcj_Pb_KSmVNfPyu9JuKdqGZMiOvu5X_BidPE30ndkyH6LrRlSj98msbOgZcPP2PDnpWKvVHc6OMXb7aQNaRoLl1ITL39KJgKayYhCQClC/s200/NotGoodEnough.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
The greatest gift my depressive illness has given me is that I don't really care what other people think of me so much any more. <br />
<br />
I used to want to fit in so much. I wanted to be liked by everybody, to be friends with everyone, be invited to all the dinner parties, coffee mornings, and after-work drinks. The fact is I wasn't. And I didn't fit in.<br />
<br />
Maybe it was because I didn't have enough money to go on the spur of the moment girlie weekend trips to the spas or far flung trendy beaches. Maybe it was because my body was too big and just doesn't look great in the trendy designer fashion (as if I could even afford that). Maybe my sense of humour is a bit quirky. Probably it's because when I get a few too many drinks in me I can be a bit loud. Even sober I can be a bit loud.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong: I have many, many friends who love me more than their luggage just the way I am. But my mind always focuses on those few unfortunates that just didn't quite get me. Then the paranoia sets in. The ones who don't quite get me are trying to convince those that did to not get me anymore when I reality if they ever did discuss me, my friends would have told them to fuck off.<br />
<br />
In my mind I feel I am just simply not good enough. I grew up thinking I wasn't good enough. I've had a series of setbacks that told me I wasn't good enough. It doesn't matter how many times I've been told that I am amazing, outstanding, interesting, extraordinary individual with a limitless capacity for compassion and generosity. All of those fade into the background over the shouting of "not good enough".<br />
<br />
In my depression, I cling to that like a self fulfilling prophecy. I have every reasonable excuse to never ever be good enough again.<br />
<br />
But if I focus on just this very moment, right now, and not a moment longer, I am good enough to write this and hope someone finds that they were good enough to read it and it helped.</div>
<!-- start LinkyTools script --><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/thumbnail_linky_include.aspx?id=202895" type="text/javascript" ></script><!-- end LinkyTools script -->LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-43557083016470628212013-07-05T14:35:00.000+01:002013-07-06T10:13:51.451+01:00Better than the Day Before<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yesterday I was better than the day before or the day before that but
today I feel worse than I was yesterday. And that's the only way to
really measure any progress. Or lack thereof. One day at a time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxrCiod8zOToZ5octnycclzV5ExY2wQO6eA9LfXmoXTcieqdnu0aQwALwukzF2_3yQjtNxqMOrqR-oFLYtLAdoKG5lraCEpsh90ng3KlnOUm_guArmseBV46h5WXGNhkzuDHpa9Tk_Gyv/s1600/CCElgar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxrCiod8zOToZ5octnycclzV5ExY2wQO6eA9LfXmoXTcieqdnu0aQwALwukzF2_3yQjtNxqMOrqR-oFLYtLAdoKG5lraCEpsh90ng3KlnOUm_guArmseBV46h5WXGNhkzuDHpa9Tk_Gyv/s200/CCElgar.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yesterday morning I actually cared about whether the sun was shining.
I noticed the </span><span style="text-align: left;">pretty flowers around the clinic grounds. I moved to
a new room which is very quiet with a wonderful view and lots of space. I
started to make eye contact with the other patients and learn their names.
Haven't really had the courage to say anything to them but I am starting
to feeling a little less invisible.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<o:p></o:p><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have slept well the last couple nights, in comparison to the first
couple nights. I can tell that I toss and turn because the sheet will be
all bunched up and nearly off the bed. The duvet was on the floor when I
woke up this morning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">But the last couple nights I didn't wake up even when the nurse
delivered my early morning coffee. I can't recall any of my dreams and I
certainly don't remember screaming out at the various baddies that used to try
to choke and smother me at night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Last night I took a new drug to help with my fear and anxiety which lies
at the root of my depression. Ever since July 2011, I have been afraid of
everything: driving the car, leaving the house, attending social
gatherings, cooking a meal, finding a new job, speaking to strangers, answering
the phone, going to the supermarket, opening the post. Everything.
Some rational. Some completely irrational. The point is one
cannot avoid falling into depression when one is constantly in a heightened
sense of fright of life itself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Even here in the clinic I am afraid. I am afraid I am more crazy
than everyone else. I am afraid that I will never recover. I am
afraid everyone is staring at me. I am afraid I do the meditation wrong.
I am afraid that I don't say enough or that I say too much. I am
afraid that I think all wrong and that I will never have the right thoughts.
Or that I don't smile. Or that I do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">To keep my adrenalin under control I take a drug 3 times a day which
does a pretty good job keeping my anxiety from grabbing hold of me. When
my fear and anxiety begins to win against that particular medication, I take a
little bit of a half a tranquiliser and I can usually muddle my way through.
Rarely, however, does one enjoy muddling through.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8jBDNuvJ5R1Sobagg4YUpoWnfPQjXApACgR3CMRicjqoTBgo4s_wzSi1WBE_etGQeksw94Mwqv4YvV7qiCXDLwt2q1oApidw53msNN9KvdrUh7DtCwqRS4MM9MeBXtjENeKPNsaXILp_x/s1600/olanzapine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8jBDNuvJ5R1Sobagg4YUpoWnfPQjXApACgR3CMRicjqoTBgo4s_wzSi1WBE_etGQeksw94Mwqv4YvV7qiCXDLwt2q1oApidw53msNN9KvdrUh7DtCwqRS4MM9MeBXtjENeKPNsaXILp_x/s1600/olanzapine.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I spoke to my psychiatrist about this fear and constant anxiety.
He recommended a drug called <a href="http://drugs.webmd.boots.com/drugs/drug-339-Olanzapine.aspx?drugid=339&drugname=Olanzapine&source=2&isTicTac=false" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Olanzapine</span></a>. He said it was
good for treating fear and anxiety and he would start with a very small dosage
twice a day. I thought, "Cool. why haven't they given this to me
before?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Within 20 minutes of taking this drug, I thought I was losing my mind.
My limbs, legs and particularly my right arm, began to move
uncontrollably, like restless limb syndrome. My balance was off. I
felt like I was on a rolling ship at sea in a huge storm. I bumped into
walls trying to get downstairs to get some help. I was dizzy and kept
thinking I was going to black out. I was agitated and highly paranoid.
I was more afraid than I've ever been.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">The nurses were cold comfort telling me that since I had already taken the
pill, there was little more they could do. I just had to ride out the storm. They offered to have someone sit
with me. Well, what kind of help is that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the end, I fell into bed and fell into a very restless sleep very
early in the evening. I woke up confused several times during the night.
I reported this to my nurses this morning who assured me that when they
looked in on me I appeared to be sleeping soundly. Well, that's ok then,
isn't it? I was so out of it last night that I didn't even get my
sleeping meds which I am sure made my situation even worse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today I await the visit from my psychiatrist for Plan B, or rather, Plan
G. None of these plans seems to be working. I am angry. I am
frightened. I feel so alone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have more voice mails, texts, phone calls, Facebook messages, tweets
and visits from my army of friends than I can respond to. It is genuinely
a pity that depression strikes even those who are loved so very much. If
love could cure depression I wouldn't be paralysed with this fear, this anxiety
and this sheer and absolute darkness. Please don't be upset if I haven't
replied. Please don't think I don't love you. Please know your
message meant a lot to me and sometimes I just can't cope with the world right
now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want it to get better but on days like today it doesn't seem like it
ever will.<span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<!-- start LinkyTools script --><script src="http://www.linkytools.com/thumbnail_linky_include.aspx?id=202895" type="text/javascript" ></script><!-- end LinkyTools script -->LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-30421832137336687652013-06-29T06:08:00.000+01:002013-06-29T06:08:00.948+01:00Invisibility<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBYfsuV81e-9naModpWB9OfH1kLShCvkhI7PGx5J0heOTIU6IC2r-mxh7Fpu92Ql7pwz4Tc6yT7VJ5IaD5020dEpCrI_ZNkCjjfJVOVF16vM9wo58djb_LlFm2BRbbda_Dmze5dOnt31gN/s320/SebOliver2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBYfsuV81e-9naModpWB9OfH1kLShCvkhI7PGx5J0heOTIU6IC2r-mxh7Fpu92Ql7pwz4Tc6yT7VJ5IaD5020dEpCrI_ZNkCjjfJVOVF16vM9wo58djb_LlFm2BRbbda_Dmze5dOnt31gN/s320/SebOliver2.jpg" /></a>Thursday was the school's performance of Oliver. This was the same day I was admitted to the clinic. I had spent most, if not all, of the day in tears. Not for any good reason only that mostly I just wanted to die and couldn't.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My son had a role in the chorus so it wasn't like I was going to be missing his lead performance. But for him, being in the chorus was a big deal. It was one of those moment that I looked into the future and could see him telling his therapist in 20 years time how his mother was so ill with depression all the time that she couldn't even come see his breakthrough stage performance.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Suitably tranquilised and against doctor's orders, I made my way to the theatre. My daughter had planned her own special little party. Laden with a vast quantity of sweets with her best friend in the seat next to her, we all sat down and watched the tremendous performance unfold before us.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The interval was excruciating. When one is depressed, one wants nothing more than to be invisible. I didn't have the energy, the courage, or the desire to talk to any one, even the people who love me more than their luggage. Luckily, those people understood that. I was given some soul engaging hugs and hand squeezes. I was given encouraging winks and nods. My efforts to keep my head down and my gaze averted did draw numerous stares but those seemed to unsettle my husband more than me. You can't see what you can't see.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCIrNqtxMrKjgOsUHZo9-ot-a_LfeEw7RxvKm0HYmFAuLLH5CC-LTr2UJ2xrg_sEy2WwTSLCH6k4vORxHESCe_2atdXtBHBW603wVz1ha451xWARtuJrG8-knf5mJK9Sm_BH8CXiROlwu/s320/CCRoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifCIrNqtxMrKjgOsUHZo9-ot-a_LfeEw7RxvKm0HYmFAuLLH5CC-LTr2UJ2xrg_sEy2WwTSLCH6k4vORxHESCe_2atdXtBHBW603wVz1ha451xWARtuJrG8-knf5mJK9Sm_BH8CXiROlwu/s200/CCRoom.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Back in the clinic, my night's sleep was interrupted continuously with nightmares of people crushing me, sitting on me, pushing me, suffocating me. I yelled out numerous time. By 5 am I had given up on the idea of restful sleep and started the morning off with a good long cry.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I've managed a shower today. I managed to go to the art class. I have eaten all three meals today.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllAbjvboJFk9_Nq5ZPtnlic2Vq182LtZwTr1Bm5DrAmHQf7UVaTLKEeWohRlPPIbIO_1sWayZQqSogOEN5q-QYUocmNhajp5UFHfZQ4DSgvjfdzHUwEINCj92lSj4nP00RTPavPvgDhk1/s320/Katyflowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllAbjvboJFk9_Nq5ZPtnlic2Vq182LtZwTr1Bm5DrAmHQf7UVaTLKEeWohRlPPIbIO_1sWayZQqSogOEN5q-QYUocmNhajp5UFHfZQ4DSgvjfdzHUwEINCj92lSj4nP00RTPavPvgDhk1/s200/Katyflowers.jpg" width="150" /></a>My back pain is being alleviated by anti inflammatory and pain meds. My whole body itches and I keep scratching until I bleed. This is probably anxiety related. The anti depressants haven't kicked in yet but they will soon. I hope.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
What I can tell you is that the outpouring of support and love is overwhelming. Don't take this the wrong way and sufferers of mental illness will understand, it doesn't really help but it is nice to have. I really appreciate the flowers, the chocolate, the biscuits, the STRAWBERRY shower gel, and the words of encouragement and motivation. I am most grateful for the unconditional love. Thank you. You know who you are. xxxx</div>
</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-82256386477543564832013-06-28T05:06:00.000+01:002013-06-28T05:06:00.849+01:00Hello, Darkness, my old friend.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<img src="http://media-cache-ec4.pinimg.com/736x/b5/38/00/b53800cb1f27a4f239d66c0a3386e5b0.jpg" /></div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-82965504180983349982013-06-27T11:55:00.000+01:002013-06-27T11:55:20.365+01:00The Seat Beside Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<img height="425" src="http://therapymarket.co.uk/articles/images/depression.jpg" width="640" /></div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Depression is always sitting in the seat just beside me. I’m told it won’t always but here I
am, nearly 2 years after my first depressive episode and the darkness is always
chasing me, gaining on me, trying to push me off my seat. I ran out of
breath running from it and a few weeks ago it started to win.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Some days I can’t run quickly enough to get away from
it. It tends to be the days I don’t get
out of the starting gate straight away.
Those are the days when I find that I've not showered or accomplished
anything beyond getting out of my bed and yet it is time to do the school run
to pick up my daughter at the end of the day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Of course, some days are better than those days when I
couldn't manage to even get out of bed.
But these days aren't nearly on par with those days when I used to go
mach 10 with my hair on fire. Neither
extreme is particularly healthy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It was 30 years of those mach 10 days that knocked me down
into my hole. That’s not entirely
accurate. It was 10 years of doing mach
10 and being metaphorically smacked down daily for doing mach 10 that caused me
to trip. And fall.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I’d gotten myself back upright and standing. But beyond standing, I rarely manage more
than a couple steps forward before the doubt and fear sets in and I sit back
down before I fall down again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I’ve got myself surrounded by people, supremely qualified
mental health professionals, a loving family, and an army of generous and kind
friends, who help keep me out of the darkness.
They listen. They hug. They encourage. They medicate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
But much of my day depends on me. And therein lies the trouble. I am fearful of the depression. I can’t remember a day when I didn't think
about it. It is always sitting in the
seat just beside me. I can feel it's cold hand and searing heart. Everywhere I go
even when I stay put. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I miss the old me. The
miss the sharpness of my mind, the ability to gather tremendous data and make
sense of it all so I could define a clear course of action. Now I listen to instructions and get lost in
the words. I make mistakes. I stammer.
My brain stutters. I live in a
constant fog.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I can’t plan meals. I
can’t help my children with their homework.
I can’t explain to my husband why I get things wrong all the time. I can’t describe to anyone why I can’t get a
job. My friends want to help but I don't know how to ask for what.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
A few weeks ago, as an act of desperation, I took myself off
of all my medication. I knew we couldn't
afford the annual prescription fee and I thought that my cocktail of daily
pills was responsible for making my head feel confused. I wanted to help my family out of the
financial hole we are in. I thought if I
could get back to the old me I could help.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It shouldn't come as a surprise to those who suffer from
this debilitating illness that this didn’t work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Instead I am in the pit of darkness from which there feels
there is no escape. I have precisely 4
days of private medical care left before the policy expires and we can’t afford
to buy more. I will then be in the hands
of the NHS and we know how that it likely to end.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My husband is now left angry and disappointed and
betrayed. My children are left
frightened and anxious. My friends are befuddled and helpless. And I sit in the
darkness wishing it would all end whilst depression has decided to sit in my lap. Again.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-18010823810034574782013-06-25T16:32:00.002+01:002013-06-25T16:32:31.769+01:00A Call to Life Model in Edinburgh<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_L3E_MP4KqLlgNCk3nDzddBzDK4PA-YswwFZAzjPCISjONDKk5f-ynVKMaqqGLbQE7oxkI-Nb2JfcEpXkfNbjkDZtmc-YSRNWK6ZF1P4WCwlz27bGYf6osf7SaIOPj4hhPxefNRhe3hi/s1600/IMG_0858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_L3E_MP4KqLlgNCk3nDzddBzDK4PA-YswwFZAzjPCISjONDKk5f-ynVKMaqqGLbQE7oxkI-Nb2JfcEpXkfNbjkDZtmc-YSRNWK6ZF1P4WCwlz27bGYf6osf7SaIOPj4hhPxefNRhe3hi/s320/IMG_0858.JPG" width="320" /></a><st1:city style="text-align: left;" w:st="on">Edinburgh</st1:city><span style="text-align: left;">
residents (and beyond) are being given the opportunity (and encouragement) to try life modelling!
Multi-life modelling organisation, Spirited Bodies, will hold an extravaganza at The
Arts Complex on Saturday 21</span><sup style="text-align: left;">st</sup><span style="text-align: left;"> September 2013 from 11am to 5pm.
Spirited Bodies are looking for about 40 models who will each pose for a couple
of hours, most of them for the 1</span><sup style="text-align: left;">st</sup><span style="text-align: left;"> time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Life models are one of the best means by which artists learn
how to draw; the human body providing the ultimate complexity as well as being
alive and energetic. Experienced artists keep in practise by drawing life
models regularly. Usually a life model poses alone, sometimes with another
model; however at this Spirited Bodies event models will pose in a group of up
to 20. Some poses are timed with longer poses offering plenty of stretch
breaks; others are freestyle, with models choosing for themselves when to
change pose. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Spirited Bodies have done 12 events so far, all of which
have taken place in <st1:place w:st="on">London</st1:place>.
This is their first venture beyond! They are extremely excited to be invited to
<st1:city w:st="on">Edinburgh</st1:city> by <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Ragged</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype></st1:place>.
As well as the main event, a run up of preparation events during a visit in
late July and just before the September date are being scheduled. A
presentation of what Spirited Bodies does will take place on Tuesday July 23<sup>rd</sup>
at 7pm (venue tbc), and a life modelling and drawing workshop will take place
at The Arts Complex on Thursday 25<sup>th</sup> July (Room 518), 7 – 9pm. All
events are free and women-only meet ups (just to ask questions and discuss the
life modelling) as well as practical workshops will be available (please ask). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Artwork and photographs from a similar event last year at Battersea
Arts Centre can be seen here: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/londondrawing/sets/72157629301000801/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/londondrawing/sets/72157629301000801/</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It should be noted that photographs of models are never
taken at workshops, and at events it is only with models’ consent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
People come to model with Spirited Bodies to experience
being nude with others in a relaxed but ritualised environment, for the
creation of art. They want to embrace their own nudity, face body issues and
feel the warmth of human bonding in a way our society rarely offers; to be seen
as a work of art and have the opportunity to express oneself in moments of
silence and stillness.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
From overcoming eating disorders, celebrating the joy of losing weight,
adapting to a post-teenage body, rehabilitating after illness, addressing
ageist stereotypes, rediscovering one's beauty post-divorce and making new
friends to being a part in the process of creating art - Spirited Bodies offers
something for everyone.</div>
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Models aged 18 upwards are accepted, from all backgrounds
and ethnicities, and differently-abled people are welcome. No previous
experience or skills are necessary. Life drawing shows well how beauty is in
the diversity of the human form. Spirited Bodies is a powerful antidote to the
familiar bombardment of media doctored images, by bringing real people to the
fore. Led by 4 professional life models Spirited Bodies offers preparation
workshops where participants are guided through a series of short poses (up to
15 minutes), and pose with one or two other models. Posing technique is
discussed in a more informal setting than the actual event, and posing clothed
is fine too. Artists are also invited to attend workshops and events to draw,
and everyone is encouraged to draw at a workshop when not posing. It does not
matter if you ‘cannot draw’, it just helps to understand what the model is for,
and appreciate that trying to capture the human form on paper is not easy. Drawing
materials are provided. <o:p></o:p></div>
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More information is available at <a href="http://www.spiritedbodies.com/">www.spiritedbodies.com</a>. D<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Spirited-Bodies/320375434651805">Spirited
Bodies Facebook page</a> as well as Spirited Bodies on Meetup - <a href="http://www.meetup.com/Spirited-Bodies/">http://www.meetup.com/Spirited-Bodies/</a>
- (useful for signing up to workshops).
Contact <a href="mailto:info.spiritedbodies@gmail">info.spiritedbodies@gmail</a>
for inquiries. <o:p></o:p></div>
o check out
the <br />
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A crowd-funding project for this series of <st1:city w:st="on">Edinburgh</st1:city> events will be created in due
course. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<u>Links to press about Spirited Bodies:<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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<a href="http://www.kfh.co.uk/completely-london/magazine/happy/grin-and-bare-it.htm">http://www.kfh.co.uk/completely-london/magazine/happy/grin-and-bare-it.htm</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/you/article-2243430/Undress-code-My-naked-ambition-Lydia-Slater.html">http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/you/article-2243430/Undress-code-My-naked-ambition-Lydia-Slater.html</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://www.wandsworthguardian.co.uk/news/9915171.Artists_looking_for_spirited_bodies_to_get_naked/">http://www.wandsworthguardian.co.uk/news/9915171.Artists_looking_for_spirited_bodies_to_get_naked/</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-60416760641185422972013-06-23T14:06:00.001+01:002013-06-23T14:06:51.064+01:00Cupboard Chicken Caccitore<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I was a child my mother used to make this amazing chicken caccitore. Now maybe I am wearing those rose tinted glasses of childhood memories and to be fair I can't really remember what it tasted like. But I do remember that we got to eat with out fingers. Meal time in our home was a fairly formal affair. All had to sit at the table and our cutlery. And napkins. Burping and farting was frowning upon.<br />
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Chicken Caccitore was a different affair altogether. Mom would heat up flannel wash clothes and put them next to our plates. This was a meal to be slurped as you ripped the chicken off the bones with your hands and the juices ran down your arms. We loved it.<br />
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I have asked my mother repeatedly for this recipe. Now I don't know if she wants to keep it a secret or if she has genuinely lost it but it has not been forthcoming. So today I decided to make my own. I did some google searches and was disappointed with what seemed to me wasn't going to produce anything like my memories. And would require a trip to the supermarket, which is my very least favourite thing to do in the whole entire world. <br />
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So I headed to my cupboards.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKjQlxkjAxM2Ev-f5nLOJX2h_MltCzLSuCHbKI4ITviWYg1BYV3QOC0nZY5CO7YCcwe5RkXvKNt6NvfIleCTq2EzxM5BWafa-bxrVtoJk2ekupybUOJJ2nkjPidAegur48nezOT-tIsreg/s1600/chickencaccitore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKjQlxkjAxM2Ev-f5nLOJX2h_MltCzLSuCHbKI4ITviWYg1BYV3QOC0nZY5CO7YCcwe5RkXvKNt6NvfIleCTq2EzxM5BWafa-bxrVtoJk2ekupybUOJJ2nkjPidAegur48nezOT-tIsreg/s320/chickencaccitore.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Slow Cooker Cupboard Kitchen Caccitore<br />
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5 chicken thighs (bone in is more fun at scarfing time)<br />
5 onions (more or less), sliced<br />
1 tin of whole tomatoes<br />
1 Tablespoon sundried tomato paste (or not)<br />
20 cherry tomatoes<br />
1/2 cup water<br />
2 cups of red wine (I used Rioja because that's what I wanted to drink later)<br />
Healthy dash of black pepper<br />
Healthy dash of garlic salt (would have preferred fresh garlic but we were fresh out)<br />
1 bit of salt (you decide how much)<br />
1 tin of greens beans (to help us to our 5 a day)<br />
1 jar of red roasted peppers (because that jar has been in my cupboard for a very long time and needed to be used)<br />
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Fry thighs and onions til browned<br />
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Throw everything into slow cooker on low for 7 hours or high for 4.<br />
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You can thicken up the sauce with a bit of cornstarch if you want to just before serving.<br />
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Serve over rice, mashed potatoes, or noodles. Or even just with crusty bread and lashings of butter.<br />
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Do NOT forget the warmed flannel face clothes and NO cutlery!!!!!<br />
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LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-44432766781809193172013-04-26T13:07:00.000+01:002013-04-26T13:07:01.383+01:00A Poet Amongst Us<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlffEBXSvqaM9ZMjj4snyWDDWnTtUpSWay34raFu5UNshrp_YWQWVyxgZcWx491lMn4dPpiv7Z3jiFYdrrMvBSca1WkPyEtdzJfzSrIfUW3bi6wOFlmZ56iaiyfDivdlf4mllTNQEV_Xcj/s1600/photo+(19).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlffEBXSvqaM9ZMjj4snyWDDWnTtUpSWay34raFu5UNshrp_YWQWVyxgZcWx491lMn4dPpiv7Z3jiFYdrrMvBSca1WkPyEtdzJfzSrIfUW3bi6wOFlmZ56iaiyfDivdlf4mllTNQEV_Xcj/s640/photo+(19).JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-11721219303907285122013-04-25T07:00:00.000+01:002013-04-25T07:00:11.057+01:00River God and The Seventh Scroll by Wilbur Smith<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmSDkJHBNv6Qdg-aSlo2VhHpEdfH8bPqIpntZqqLeESfaFe9BOdBGU25JTlYf2nNwZzylAknMuCWjlobkMB90y4zYivU9FcWo2VO7Z-zJ_2qL2Tp5I0hQiTe8PsVtsnfj1Z3cv23rwNti/s1600/rivergod.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFmSDkJHBNv6Qdg-aSlo2VhHpEdfH8bPqIpntZqqLeESfaFe9BOdBGU25JTlYf2nNwZzylAknMuCWjlobkMB90y4zYivU9FcWo2VO7Z-zJ_2qL2Tp5I0hQiTe8PsVtsnfj1Z3cv23rwNti/s200/rivergod.jpg" width="124" /></a></div>
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Not entirely sure what I am thinking. Maybe I am not.</div>
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I read River God over a year ago but thought so little of it that I didn't even put a review of it on the blog. Basically the premise of that novel was that one Egyptian eunuch slave, Taita, was responsible for inventing absolutely everything.</div>
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As if that wasn't enough to put me off, I then went and bought (at a second hand sale) the second in this Egyptian series. Smith does the most unusual trick (sarcasm alert) of weaving a modern story in with an ancient story to help find an ancient buried/hidden treasure. He further alienates me by putting his own previous novel and himself in the story.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBiQzsv5-XOmLvCXLHYh5UG1Og1ui_bskRCMeijBMtEB4sr0fFc1dBJdYmnzsyTwu_XNHYFPFRwi96_Zii6B_KKDER2ouNRlpmjMx3fMAn8_kXX3_bukP55QDkhOaBrrU8tA0iTApaI3WG/s1600/theseventhscroll.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBiQzsv5-XOmLvCXLHYh5UG1Og1ui_bskRCMeijBMtEB4sr0fFc1dBJdYmnzsyTwu_XNHYFPFRwi96_Zii6B_KKDER2ouNRlpmjMx3fMAn8_kXX3_bukP55QDkhOaBrrU8tA0iTApaI3WG/s200/theseventhscroll.jpg" width="130" /></a>Honestly, I'm not sure why I picked up the second book when I thought the first one was so dire. To make matters worse I think I've even picked up the third. I might have bought them all at the same time. At least that is the excuse I am going to use. </div>
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You can read these books if you would like to fill your brain with loads of misinformation about the Egyptians. Otherwise, I suggest you give them all a miss. </div>
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Wonder if I will be able to resist the urge to read it? God, I hope so.</div>
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LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1916237518997297516.post-46804953098346553972013-04-24T07:00:00.000+01:002013-04-24T07:00:08.709+01:00Before I Met You by Lisa Jewell<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGu9efF1xJxFBc_5VEs6SS2MYjf6mSocSqKdft5rlS9InA0uoLRxpDZmcJK95_3YnjrfFgXrlxdJ362H_NNAHVqyawM-oyrVcWz3cvtWpUCQreNtLzuqc-sEHJVgcQywqFyf2C4PNJnLt/s1600/beforeimetyou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfGu9efF1xJxFBc_5VEs6SS2MYjf6mSocSqKdft5rlS9InA0uoLRxpDZmcJK95_3YnjrfFgXrlxdJ362H_NNAHVqyawM-oyrVcWz3cvtWpUCQreNtLzuqc-sEHJVgcQywqFyf2C4PNJnLt/s200/beforeimetyou.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>
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Once again I am faced with a novel with two different story lines interwoven in alternating chapters where the characters have some sort of relationship in common but time goes back and forth. It seems to be that this is the latest fashion for historical novels. I'm not sure I am a fan. I thought it was quite clever the first couple of these I read but now the novelty has worn off.</div>
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But it's not just the originality that has gone. It is the inevitable fact that one story is more captivating than the other so you find yourself rushing through the chapters of one just to get to the chapters of the other. So it is with Lisa Jewell's <i>Before I Met You</i>.</div>
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One plot line is based around 1920s SoHo London where the first world war has ended and Arlette's life as a member of a bohemian set of musicians and artists is just beginning. Arlette falls in love with the most unlikely of men in the most unlikely of circumstances with the most tragic of endings. This story line is filled with delicious details of a time and place that was new and fresh and young and free. Women were granted freedoms previously unattainable. The very fabric of British society was breaking down and irreversibly changing. It was a fascinating time and I wanted to read this plot line endlessly. The descriptions of the clothing was enough to fill my head with dreams of vintage clothing, complete with gloves, hats, and handbags</div>
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Regrettably, my joy was interrupted with the modern day plot line which has Arlette's grand daughter searching inexplicably to find a mysterious benefactor cited in her grandmother's will. I guessed who the benefactor was about 50 pages into the novel which meant that half the book was a complete waste of time for me. I didn't find any of the modern characters compelling and in fact found myself downright outraged by the rock star falls for nanny (but there's a better man) storyline. Surely, Arlette's story proved that this atrocious relationship was ridiculous.</div>
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I really wish Jewell would have simply told the story of Arlette and left it at that.</div>
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I gave this book 4 out of 5 stars.</div>
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LaDawnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355982914736694620noreply@blogger.com1