An Amazing Story of Survival

This is an amazing story of one woman's strength and a rather sad tale about the failure of police to search for her because they thought her husband had harmed her.

Why is it so much easier to believe bad stuff? And why does the criminal justice system assume the worst first?

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

I had never heard of Paulo Coelho until I picked up one of his books in a book sale. When my friend, Gill, heard that I loved the one book I had read she arrived at my door the very next day with the entire collection of his books. Apparently, she had a set I could borrow!

I added her collection to my stack of books to be read. It might have been at this point that my husband started complaining that our bedroom was starting to look like an used book shop. I was flattered. I like that look; bookshop chic, I call it.

I finally picked up the recommended starting point in the stack: The Alchemist which is his most famous and most widely read. I won't tell you all about it here because quite frankly clicking on that will give you the Wikipedia entry and it tells it a whole bunch much better than I could.

I will tell you what I thought about what it said, which by the way is what book reviews should do, I think.

This book is a fable for reminding people to follow their dreams. It would be a great book for high school or college graduates who are trying to find their bliss. I enjoyed the book but felt it was a bit obvious and simplistic. I wasn't mesmerized by the language the way I was with his previous book.

I also found the tale about sacrificing everything and everyone around you to make yourself happy to be too self-centered to be relevant to me. Maybe I'm just at the wrong place and time in my life for this lesson.

It's a sweet tale but not for me.

Shopping

Windsor has had a dramatic makeover the last 18 months. When I first moved here, it was difficult to get a decent meal in the town. And the shopping was atrocious. There were some great pubs (outside the town centre) and some good pubs near the town centre. There was an appalling commercial block built right in centre which housed a small supermarket. It was a real eyesore.

But it had its appeal. The town centre wasn't crowded with shoppers just tourists. And Windsor gets a lot of tourists especially in the summer! But tourists don't really go to the supermarket or Woolworths or Daniels. So if you stepped into a shop, you almost had a little oasis.

We would quite often head off to London, Reading, Guildford or Uxbridge to do our shopping. And we never went into the town centre to do our grocery shopping. Parking was a nightmare and there was simply no reasonable selection if you were doing birthday/Christmas shopping. And there was nothing HIP about this town.

About 2 years ago planning permission was granted to tear part of it down and rebuild. Since that time, Windsor has pretty much looked like a building site.

We are nearing the end of this phase and Windsor is looking hot. The new centre opens mid-October although a couple shops are open now. They've doubled the cost of parking in the multi-story car park.

I suddenly realised now Windsor is going to be full of both shoppers and tourists. Oh No! What have we done?

Lurkers

My blog community mostly consists of lurkers. These are visitors to the blog who never ever leave a trace that they've visited except for me to see they've been counted on my sitemeter.

Janell faithfully leaves comments to nearly every post I make. Clare makes occasional but deep and meaningful comments. My mother used to comment. My sister used to comment. My sister's blog has fallen into disrepair due to lack of attention. A few work colleagues rarely comment (you know who you are).

But now I'm having a crisis of confidence. My lurker audience is shrinking and I'm not sure what I'm dong wrong. I'm still getting those faithful commenter but my site visits have sharply dropped off in the last month.

Visits fell during August. I chalked that one up to my lack of posting for nearly 2 weeks due to annual leave/holidays/fun in the rain (or not).

But this month the visits dropped even more. Unless I get over 300 visits in the next 2 days (unlikely given it is a weekend which sees my lowest daily visits) I will fail to exceed my visit high set in July this year. Should I care?

Ideas? Tell everyone you know to visit my blog, please!

Winning the Lottery

I am not a fan of the lottery. My husband will occasionally sneak the purchase of a ticket past my watchful eye but generally I avoid the whole game. This week I am making up for my previous avoidance.

The Euro Lottery is at £88m. A guess at the current exchange rate puts the jackpot at approximately $160m. OK, so I'm willing to make an exception this week. Normally the odds of winning the Euro lottery hover somewhere around 1:75 million. Since the £88m cannot be rolled over and must be awarded this week if no one matches all the numbers the winnings will be distributed amongst the next set of matching numbers. This means the odds of winning have substantially shifted in our favour.

I approved a purchase of a £1 lottery ticket which in my husband's world translates to £30. This is what is known in financial circles as the Marc Conversion rate.

He got home. I examined the tickets. And immediately starting making a list of everything we would do with the money. So far we've only spent about £2.2 million. We could split the winnings with a lot of people and still get £2.2m.

Draw is at 10:25 pm (GMT). Stay tuned.

Surprise

I don't normally like surprises. My husband loves surprises and loves surprising me but I hate them. Normally.

Yesterday evening just before we went up to bed my husband suddenly announces that a box had arrived for me during the day. Just like him to forget something so amazing!!!!!! And surprising!

He went and got the box which he had put down in the garage. I got VERY excited when I realised it was a box from Janell (a member of my extended family). She blogs over on One Square Mile.

I knew this box held my Family Cookbook. But the box was huge. My sister had told me the cookbook was huge but surely it hadn't grown to be this BIG.

I opened the box to find not only my treasured cookbook but also some amazing goodies sent with love from the shores across the Atlantic. I looooove Cap'n Crunch. My husband loooooves Apple Jacks. My children loooooove Mac n Cheese. We all love Stove Top stuffing! And the green chiles are going to make an excellent green chile this weekend!

Thanks and Big Hugs to Janell for being soooooo thoughtful.

Oh and well done on the cookbook! Just like my nanny, Joyce, I love reading cookbooks. I read them like others read novels. This one kept me up well into the late hours of last night. I can't believe how much it has grown! I was mildly embarrassed (and flattered) that Janell had published some of my blog posts under the Family History chapter. And I can hardly wait to try some of the recipes.

What do you Dream?

I wrote a post about unfulfilled dreams and felt that it was a bit unfair because I didn't get a chance to talk about all the dreams I still have. Indulge me!

My biggest dream is that my children grow up and believe I am the greatest mom. Ever. I hope we maintain a close, healthy relationship as adults. I don't kid myself into thinking we will make it through the teenage years unscathed. Two Words: Boarding School!

I dream of retiring financially secure with a solid plan for the future. This includes paying off our mortgage on both homes we own and being completely debt free. Every financial decision we make is geared towards that goal. We invest in our children's education so they will support us when we are old (just kidding!).

I dream of being married to my husband for many years to come.

I dream of spending countless hours sitting on the porch of a beach house reading, knitting or quilting watching my grandchild(ren) run around on the beach whilst my grown children wait on me hand and foot.

I dream of long sailing holidays in warm sunny tropical locations.

I dream of a world where children are not afraid, ill or illiterate.

I dream the Chicago Cubs will win the World Series.

I dream of being skinny again.

What do you dream?

Basesball as a Metaphor

I love baseball. Baseball is life.

One of my favourite memories of my childhood is going to the minor league Denver Bears games at the Old Mile High Stadium which also doubled as the football stadium for the Denver Broncos before the new stadium was built.

September is my favourite time of year largely because it is the time of year that marks the race for the pennant. The last trades have been made weeks ago and the teams are what they are. Players play through the pain of their injuries. They play through the fatigue of a season that starts back in March/April with spring training and runs for nearly every day during the summer with the exception of travel days (2/week) and the All Star break week. Every game counts. Every at bat counts. Every pitch counts.

Baseball is a metaphor for life. Large periods of inactivity with intermittent short bursts of pure toe curling, thrilling, excitement. A whole bunch of people doing their individual best benefiting the overall team. The lazy days of summer make way for the dash to the World Series and only the best will make the cut.

Bring on the World Series!

Child Free Shopping

When my children were enjoying their time with their Granny this summer, Marc & I went shopping. OK, this might sound like an odd way to spend quality time with your husband but trust me, it was divine.

We didn't have to stop every 15 feet to go to the toilet.

We wondered through a book store and actually browsed the book shelves rather than grabbing random things that caught our eye as we kept everything else from tumbling down in the wake of our children running full throttle through the aisles.

We bought stuff for ourselves and nothing for the children.

We ate lunch out. Just the two of us. We each ordered for ourselves and no one else. I drank my drink without having to give any a taste. I had to cut only my food. I actually finished every thought and sentence I had.

My husband and I finished discussions that have been going on in our house for the last 4 years.

We didn't rush to get home to save paying for an extra hour for the babysitter.

No one threw a tantrum when it was time to go (ok, I did throw a little one but only because the day had to end!)

Marc even enjoyed the shopping! A little bit.

It was a dream!

Love Shield

Everyday my daughter insists on giving me kisses and a cuddle as I walk out the door of our home to start my day. She blows me kisses and tells me to have fun. By the time I get to the bottom of the path she gives me a big thumbs up.

I take all of this into my car and let it cover me. I consider it my Love Shield as I head into the lion's den of my corporate office. Nobody can touch me with my love shield on!

First Jobs

When I graduated from university and started my career as a cobol programmer I had to pause and consider where my working life had started.

My parents had divorced. We didn't have much money. And I wanted some groovy clothes. And I wasn't gettin' those from my parents. So I needed to get a job. But I was 15. And it was illegal for a 15 year old to get a job.

But I had this friend, Robin Longo. And her mum had this boyfriend who owned a tropical fish store just 4 blocks from my house down on Colfax Avenue in Lakewood, Colorado. And Robin already had a job there. And she was only 15.

I asked Robin if she needed any help. She said yes. Of course she did. She was 15.

So we asked the owner and he said I could help too. And this is how it worked. I worked Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday and alternating Friday evenings. During the week we only worked after school from about 3:30 to 8 pm when we closed. It was usually slow enough at some point in the evening for us to get our homework finished. During the weekends we worked all day. Usually the owner would come in to help us as these were our busiest days.

I knew nothing about fish when I started working there. And I got no training. I taught myself. I read all the books in the store. And I learned how to set up salt water tanks and how to change water and how to feed fish. I watched sea horses give birth. I learned how to diagnose sick fish and how to test water for alkaline. I could advise people on what size and shape of tank was best for different types of fish. I could explain to people how to set up salt water environments. And it worked. They would come in very excited and buy more fish.

We had total responsibility for the store. When we got there the owner left for the afternoon and we locked up. We had keys to the store. We had to open up and feed all the fish. We had to clean tanks, stock shelves and hoover the floor during the day. We had to turn off all the lights and lock up when we left. No one watched over us. We just did it.

We counted the day's sales and reconciled that with the cash in the drawer. We prepared deposits for the bank which the owner would make the next day during the week.

As far as pay went, well, we got minimum wage. And we calculated what he owed us ourselves and at the end of the week we took our earnings from the cash register. If we needed some cash during the week, we took it out of the till and wrote him an IOU. I was honest to a fault. Sometimes if we made really big sales he gave us a wee bit of a commission.

The saddest day was a Sunday morning when my grandparent's came over and told me that there was some kind of commotion down by the fish store. Robin had worked the Saturday before and I was due in on Sunday morning but not for a few more hours. We didn't open until 10 am.

I hopped on my bicycle and went down there. The fire trucks were there and asked me if I knew anything about the store. I explained that I worked there. They asked me to contact the owner. I did. He said he'd be right there.

In the meantime I explained to the firemen that some of the fish were very expensive and some were very dangerous. They asked me if I wanted to see if there was anything worth saving. And keep them from getting poisoned. They gave me a hat and I went in with them. It was the first and only time I've ever seen and smelt the devastation of a fire.

There was very little worth saving. I cried when I saw my little sea horses.

Apparently the fire was caused by an electrical short in a pump in one of our isolation tanks in the back. Robin had done all the right things when she shut down the store the night before. There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent the fire. Luckily no one was hurt.

But the store was a total loss. The owner didn't want to start over. And I was unemployed.

Still to this day, I've never had a job that gave me so much responsibility. I've never had a job that gave me so little training and left so much up to me and my judgment. I've never had a job that trusted me to do the right thing so completely. I've never had a job that paid so little. I've never had a job I loved so much.

A few weeks later I got a job at the Wendy's next door. They just assumed I was over 16 since I had run the fish store next door. I told them the truth the day I celebrated by 16th birthday a few months later. They couldn't believe it.

Simpsonized

My husband Simpsonized me (whatever that means). I think he's got too much time on his hands.

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

This was last month's selection for my book group. I couldn't go to the book group meeting because it was on the same night as the Nursery Parent's Evening at Abigail's school.

This was a serious shame.

This was one of the most disturbing and fascinating books I have ever read. I can't even begin to tell you what it all meant. I was desperate to discuss it with someone else. Anyone else.

A father and son are trying to get from somewhere in the middle of the USA to a coastline, I presume the west coast after the world (or at least the USA) as been annihilated. We don't how or who or what has caused the destruction. Only that there might be hope.

It is a world of ash and bitter cold where cannibalistic marauders roam the countryside. In this dire place, a man and his son travel towards the sea armed only with a revolver and two bullets. Amid this desolation, a tin of canned pears is a treasure, and a broken wheel on their shopping cart can mean the difference between life and death. Their love for each other is fierce, but the son fears that his father has, in his desperation, become as savage and brutal as the world around him. Cormac McCarthy writes with a searing white heat, his images and language strike deep in the reader, and his vision of humanity is inexorable and haunting.

The book reads more like poetry than prose. The dialogue is painfully honest and lyrical.

Read this book. Don't forget it. Think about it. Perhaps read it again. And again.

When you figure it out, let me know.

NOTE: Since I wasn't there I'm not sure what the book group selection for next month is. Will keep y'all posted.
LATE EDIT: The Tenderness of Wolves by Stef Penney is the choice for October.

Great Fire of London

Sunday was cycling day in London. And if you know me at all, you know, this isn't something that would miss my radar. But it wasn't in the papers. And it wasn't on the radio. It wasn't on the Internet. Even now if you google "cycle London" you get nothing about Sunday's activities.

And we probably wouldn't have even noticed, to be honest. But this day was also the day that we choose to go into London and see the monument which had been erected in memory of the Great Fire of London.

It took us ages to get to the far side of London where the fire started in Pudding Lane which is in the City of London near the Tower of London inside what used to be the medieval city of London. All major roads were closed due to this cycling event which was supposed to rid central London of cars. Shame they didn't tell the tourists.

Sebastian is learning about the Great Fire of London in school. And given that I was educated in the USA, I don't know much about it. I mean, one can only learn so much about the history of other countries in the 12 years of primary education and 4 years of further education and sadly this didn't make the list.

After educating myself on the salient points on wikipedia, we set off.

After 2 hours of fighting the traffic we finally arrived at our destination only to find that the monument was covered from top to bottom in scaffolding. It is being cleaned and refurbished. We couldn't even get close to it. Luckily for me, I have an understanding son, who along with his mummy and daddy, just laughed about the whole situation.

Tell the World

My husband took out the rubbish tonight without me asking! I didn't even look at him with that evil eye.......

Is the world still spinning? Will the sun rise tomorrow morning? Has hell frozen over?

Reading to My Children

We started reading to Sebastian when he was about 6 weeks old. Seriously. I would sit in his bedroom, next to his crib, as he was falling off to sleep, with a low lit lamp on, in my rocking chair, reading a book. For about 15 seconds. Or until the shrill of his cries drowned out my voice.

But seriously, folks. Once he grew up a bit....about 1 year old, we did start reading to him. And he was a very good listener.

Last year we worked our way through the Narnia trilogy which was a gift to Sebastian for Christmas. At first we thought he wasn't quite following the story. But when we quizzed him on it one night, he proved us woefully mistaken. he could remember what happened from night to night much better than I could. We so underestimate the power of active listening and until a child can read everything for themselves active listening is all they have!

I was not impressed with the Narnia trilogy. I know I am going to get some flack for this. But let's face it, I am NOT a fantasy or science fiction fan. I didn't find the writing magical or the characters fascinating. It all seemed a bit flat.

During the summer we had taken a break from our out loud readings and let Seb read what he wanted to at bedtime. I was contemplating considering letting this continue during the school year when I read an article (O Magazine again, girls!).

This woman (American expat living in Italy married to an Italian) felt the relationship with her son was slipping through her fingers. He was growing up (12 yrs old or so, I think) and she felt like she had lost a vital connection to him. And whilst she knows this has to happen at some point, she felt it was just a bit too soon and wanted to connect with him.

So, she started reading to him whilst they waited for the school bus every morning. She read to him on of her childhood favourites, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain.

When I first read the magazine article I thought oh, yeah, like that's going to work. And then I thought back to that book and how much I loved reading it when I was growing up. And then I thought hey, that might work. Hey, this is something we can start now. Why wait for us to lose any more connection?

You see, my son loves Pokemon. No I don't mean loves Pokemon. I mean LOVES Pokemon.

And you see, I don't. Full stop. Am bored stiff. Can't get my head around it. Have tried. Have failed. Not going to go there. So I needed to find some common ground.

I FOUND it! We've started reading Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. I've always wanted to read the book. And now I've got the perfect excuse. This particular book was a Christmas gift from Uncle John & Auntie Mary to Sebastian a few year back. It is a beautiful hardback that has some of the most amazing illustrations I've ever seen not just in a children's book but anywhere.

We are managing about 5 pages/night so this is going to take me a bit longer than I normally take to read a good book. We have made it to about Chapter 5 and I am loving the book. It is truly a literary masterpiece. The language and style in which it is written is captivating. I am also loving watching Sebastian love the book. And I am watching Abigail peek around the corner of the door asking if she can listen in too. Not sure that she gets it but she is trying awfully darn hard.

This just might be one of the few things I get right as a parent. Not counting my chickens yet but one can dream.

Blog Hiatus

My mother rang earlier this evening and asked if I was ok. I was knee deep in homework and laundry and dinner preparations and animal feeding time and was puzzled by what she meant by "ok". I mean I was as ok as I ever am at 5:30 on a Monday evening (or any weekday evening at that time).

I should actually make it a rule not to answer the phone at that time but sometimes returning phone calls takes more effort than just answering the dang phone.

I told her I was fine and asked why she asks. Seems my mother got worried that something had gone horrifically wrong in my household because there had been no blog post for the last 2 days and there was no explanation for the lack of blog posts and my mother thought that was just a bit too out of character. As any mother does, she jumped to the worst case scenario and thought we had possibly been murdered in our homes.

Man, that would be something to blog about! But no, I've simply been racing around like a maniac and having some 'puter problems and man oh man, Facebook is sucking some time from the blog. There, I've said it.

Similar to my sister's Guitar Hero addiction, I just can't stay away from Facebook. And this isn't good. Mostly because I don't enjoy it as much as I do the blog. And some things on Facebook I just don't get. Like can anyone tell me why we are throwing food at each other?

Anyway, I will try to not skip 2 days in a row without posting unless there is a good reason. but if it does happen, please look for me on Facebook and don't assume we've been hit by a tornado (although a tornado did hit the UK today in a couple places - but that's another post!)

The People You Meet

On Saturday I had a rare partial day off of my usual role of wife and mother (and all that implies) and was just a woman hanging out with her girlfriends.

We went to the cinema and saw a real chick flick (Atonement, highly recommended, if you are interested). Then we went out for lunch at the Runnymede Hotel & Spa not too far from our home. One of my girlfriends brought a friend of hers, Pam, who turned out to be a real honest to goodness movie star. Well, sort of.

Can you be a movie star if you are behind the scenes rather than in the scenes? My answer: Of course you can!

Half way through lunch I noticed that Pam was wearing two charms around her neck which appeared to resemble Oscars. You know, those awards that you win for outstanding achievement in the film industry.

I reached for them and asked her if they were hers, not really expecting a yes. I thought she would just tell me she was an avid film buff.

Instead she replied, "No, they belong to my husband. He won 2 Oscars before his death in March last year."

Well, blow me over!

I reached for my "blog notebook" which I now carry with me everywhere I go to capture blog ideas that hit me at the most unexpected moments.

I then learned I was eating lunch with Pamela (Mann) Francis the wife of the late Freddie Francis. Pam was a "Continuity Girl" before they were called Script Supervisors. Freddie was a cinematographer (which won him both his Oscars) and a director. In fact he directed one of my favourite girlie films, The Man in the Moon, starring a just discovered Reese Witherspoon who had answered an open casting call in Tennessee. One of his Oscars was for Glory, one of my favourite all time war movies about the Civil War,

I did ask her what in the world a Continuity Girl does. I've always wondered about all those credits at the end of a film. Pam explained that, for example, in the film we had just seen, a servant boy carrying suitcases is wearing his cap in the house. Pam told us that the job of the script supervisor is to ensure that things like that don't happen. I told her I still didn't understand. In the period of the film, a male servant would NEVER have worn his cap in the house, she explained. Ah! She also pointed out that the swimming caps were far too loose for that time period. I was starting to understand. It was the job of the Continuity Girl to make sure everything fits with the time and place and is remains the same throughout.

She would drop comments into the conversation like "Katie was always fun to work with" when she was referring to Katherine Hepburn. Or "George walked over and asked me what I was doing at the Oscar ceremony" when she described her Oscar experience and bumping into George Lucas whom she worked with extensively on the Star Wars series of films. She also expressed disappointment over not being able to afford to go to the first Oscar ceremony (1967) for Sons & Lovers and disgust when she explained that Mr Francis forgot to mention that it was his wife's birthday during his acceptance speech for his second Oscar.

I also found out that a Gaffer is a the chief electrician and the Best Boy is his assistant.

Oh, the people you meet and the things you learn!

Editor's Note: I created the Wikipedia entry on Pamela Francis and made minor edits to the entry on Freddie Francis based on my interview with Mrs Francis on 22 September 2007.

1969 Online Shopping

The only thing they got wrong was who was paying the bills......

The Savage Garden by Mark Mills

This book has been in the top 5 bestsellers (paperback) all summer. I had never heard of the author and I was very confused by the premise of the book: set in the late 50s, in Italy, in an ancient garden, 2 murders ( 1 old/1 new) and a young English art student writing his dissertation.

But once you start, you are captivated by this enchanting and original story. The mysterious plot is full of twists and turns. It took me a while to figure out what it was all about. But once it falls into place, you are swept along and the detailed descriptions of the Italian landscape are beautifully written evoking smell and temperature as well as the vistas. The characters are original and funny without being caricatures. The ending was a real shocker.

This is not a long book. Nor is it an intellectually challenging read. But if you enjoy a nice little murder mystery to relax with on a rainy day (or 2), this book is for you. Especially if you love Italy as much as I do!