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Picture this: Creating our new garden…

Well here’s a thing; I’ve just discovered that I have run out of media upload storage space on Diary of an Internet Nobody and the only way I can currently think of to share photos is by linking from Photo Sans Frontiers, as I am doing here.

If anyone else has had this problem and has any suggestions what I can do about it, please let me know, as I’m at a bit of a loss how to proceed.

In the meantime, here are some nice pictures of the garden.

Photo Sans Frontiers

I’ve missed a few posts onDiary of an Internet Nobodyrecently, most notably a couple ofSoCSepisodes, due to spending my weekend writing time working on the layout and planting of our new garden.

We had a pretty clean slate to work with when we moved in, just two months ago, with a couple of large shrubs and a good sized shuttlecock fern in one of the beds that border each side of the lawn(which still needs levelling and re-seeding)but otherwise empty and ready for inspiration.

We first cleared the right hand side of the garden as you look out from the back door, as it was overgrown with wild geraniums, vinca and aquilegia. Then I went on a couple of garden centre bargain hunts, tracking down a varied(and, more importantly, cheap)selection of bedding plants and some more unusual specimens to add a bit…

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Stream of consciousness Sunday: Mum’s the word…

I’m giving The Accumulator a break this week and using Linda G Hill‘s prompt for SoCS to mark a special day.

Linda’s inspiration for today’s post is;

” “march.” Use it any way you’d like. “

Well, as it happens…

Mum’s the word.

Today, March 26th, is mothers’ day here in the UK and it’s a day to pay tribute to those determined and long suffering women who kept us alive and well before we could do it for ourselves and who are there at the heart of the family whenever we need help and support.

The term “stepmother” should only be used when preceded by “wicked” in pantomime as far as I’m concerned; there should be no distinction between a biological mother and a woman who takes on the responsibility to love and care for another woman’s children, she’s a mother and that’s all there is to it.

My own mother (about whom, more later) sadly died when I was only nine years old, but that tragic loss meant that my sister and I gained a second mum, the one who will be surrounded by the rest of her children and grandchildren today, back in my old Sussex hometown, from where I spoke to her this morning as she prepared to receive her first visitors of the day.

So today’s post is just a quick thank you to the woman who brought up her own kids at the same time as welcoming Kerry and I into her home and has been a pillar of support to the whole family ever since. 

Sue, my mum; travel addict, history enthusiast, expert cook and consummate grandmother, here’s to you, HAPPY MOTHERS’ DAY.

With my dad, Martin.

Mmmm, ice cream. With Audrey, doing the “new” grandmother thing…

…and Audrey, mum and me, Beachy Head, Eastbourne, summer 2016.
Happy mothers’ day to all the rest of the mums reading this, I hope you are being thoroughly spoiled.

*****
Coming up, memories of another mother…
Pingback to Linda G Hill.

 
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Posted by on March 26, 2017 in Personal anecdote, Photography

 

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And then there was the ’80s, luvvie…

Here, then, is my contribution to the My First Post Revisited feature, as nominated by Luccia Gray from Rereading Jane Eyre.
It was in fact my fourth ever post and documents the first leg of a youthful theatrical group’s trip to the Edinburgh International Fringe Festival.

Down the time tunnel we go…

Diary of an Internet Nobody.(Archive)

Back when the 21st century was still just a suffix in the title of Sci-fi novels and documentaries about robots doing the hoovering for you, an intrepid band of teenage drama nerds embarked on a mission to self-finance a trip to the world famous Edinburgh Fringe Festival.

This is their story.

At the start of the decade that sartorial taste forgot, I was at a comprehensive school in Sussex studying (ha!) for exams.
Most of the few high points of my school days revolved around various theatrical activities, both in and out of school. Half a dozen friends in the year above me – studying drama properly for O’ level – had formed a comic mime group. This is the style of mime that allows props, sound effects and basic narration, still preformed on a blank set in whiteface makeup.

image Strike A Pose

I had managed to blag myself a…

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March of the Internet Nobody, Day 2: The return of Spoon Woman…

Right then, day two of my self-imposed, for-no-particular-reason, blogging marathon. 

So, I was trying to decide what to do today; a bit of photography, some sort of fiction, a spot of musical composition, or how about some poetry..? 

Then I realised I have some updated news on a previous post, one which generated some very helpful advice and kind words of support for my wife, the superhero.

As I told you in that earlier post, Rhonda has fibromyalgia, which she has been treating with a prescription drug called Cymbalta for nearly ten years. As with all medication, it has its pros and cons, including some nasty side effects and natural immunity, depending on the individual patient, but the choices are limited when treating this under-explored and little-understood condition so until recently she had stuck to the devil she knew, upping her dose slightly to compensate for an increase in her pain levels midway through last year.

Then the inevitable happened.

The continuous long term use of the same medication finally reached saturation point at the end of 2016; Rhonda became hypersensitive to cymbalta and decided that she was going to take herself off it. So you can imagine (except you probably can’t) how much fun her Christmas was, but as I’ve come to expect from Spoon Woman, she took it all in her stride.

Over the ten day holiday period, (when I was off work, but Rhonda had to work several shifts at the chip shop) my amazing wife put up with the unpleasant withdrawal symptoms, the dizziness and nausea, plus the sudden increase in pain as the medication left her system completely, until she was finally free of the treatment that had become a trauma. Then began the search for a replacement, for something Rhonda could use to control the symptoms of fibro, without the harmful side effects of pharmaceutical drugs. 

Surprisingly, we found the solution in our local branch of high street health food emporium, Holland and Barrett; a £20 bottle of CBD oil. Often mistakenly described as “cannabis oil”, CBD oil is the non-psychoactive substance found in many strains of plants in the hemp family and has no recreational properties whatsoever and is completely legal in the UK.

There have been plenty of studies carried out which suggest CBD could have near-miraculous therapeutic powers but my lack experience with fibro hadn’t prompted me to think of it earlier. Rhonda, however, has researched her condition extensively and was already aware of the possibilities inherent in this natural supplement, so we sought it out.
After having partial success with a “crystalline isolate” that we ordered online (a very concentrated form of CBD, extracted and crystallized synthetically) we stumbled upon the real McCoy in the aforementioned retailer, supplied in handy dropper bottles, whilst on a family shopping expedition.

The dosage Rhonda decided on was three drops, twice a day, which she began taking the day we brought it home, which was when she discovered the one downside; the taste. The most memorable description so far was; “Like licking old motor oil off a dog turd”

But the results, well they were something else. 

Within a week of first taking half a dozen drops of this relatively cheap food supplement oil per day, Rhonda told me she already felt better than she had before Christmas. Two weeks later and she was feeling better than she ever had, in the whole time she’d been taking cymbalta, the “official” treatment.

Now, a mere two months since my superhero wife weaned herself off her own personal kryptonite, Rhonda looks happier and less tired, smiles and laughs more often and tells me that she has “some days when I actually feel GOOD” and that in itself is miraculous as far as I’m concerned.

So if you’re a secret superhero and you are wondering if CBD oil is worth a try, take it from Spoon Woman, it’s worth it.

 
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Posted by on March 2, 2017 in Blogging, Personal anecdote

 

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Stream of consciousness Sunday: Intermission (My new favourite game)…

I’ve left it far too late to continue with The Accumulator today, so after catching up with ourselves by coming back to the present in last week’s episode, we’ll have a break until next weekend and I’ll use Linda G Hill‘s prompt for a quick SoCS contractual obligation post instead;

” “ham.” Use it any way you’d like. “

No problem…

Rhonda made me us snack for lunch today; a puff pastry tart with asparagus, sweet peppers, bacon, Parma ham, mushrooms and mozzarella cheese, it was absolutely gorgeous.

Right, that’s that taken care of, now on to the important stuff.

My New Favourite Game.

As you may well be aware, the long-awaited third season of David Lynch‘s groundbreaking soap noir, Twin Peaks is soon to be upon us and I’m as excited by the prospect now as I was when the original series aired, over twenty five years ago.

This anticipation has even prompted me to join a fan-curated Twin Peaks Facebook group, where discussion of new season plotlines, old theories and their future implications, TP related trivia and all things Lynchian, is ramping up to fever pitch prior to the May 21st worldwide release of the season premier.

While scrolling through the sea of “Who is the cutest girl/evilest villain/strangest character” memes, hugely complicated and contrived explanations of the many enigmatic or downright weird scenes from the first two seasons and photos of superfans with Twin Peaks tattoos, I started to notice a lot of stripey jumpers.

That’s sweaters to you, America.

Then I realised it was more specific than that, these were all photos of the very same sweater; one that had been worn by season two cameo-in-search-of-a-plot and Audrey Horne’s love interest, Billy Zane, as the sartorially challenged millionaire eco-warrior, John Justice Wheeler.

I noticed a lot of puzzled and sometimes rather snippy comments from hardcore “Peakies” on these photos, and not because they featured a largely-ignored and/or derided character either, but because they were all cleverly doctored for comic effect.

You see, some evil genius had been using Photoshop to insert John Justice Wheeler and his garish knitwear into classic scenes from the series, or better still, dressing another character in his sweater, sometimes even multiple characters. 

They were all brilliant. And hilarious. Unless you were a member of the Peakognoscenti of course, then it was sacrilege.

Anyway, never one to miss a chance to muck about with photos on my phone, I posted a sweaterised picture in the comment thread on one of the posts and, long story, short (for a change); I received an invitation to join the mysterious #woolhouseboys and have subsequently spent an inordinate amount of time this weekend, using PicSayPro to manipulate photos of a brightly coloured woolly jumper (with and without Billy Zane inside it) into humorous situations, primarily for my own amusement.

In the next couple of days I will be devoting an entire post to the sterling work done by the creators of this excellent group, (soon to also have dedicated Twitter and Tumblr accounts) which will feature some of my own humble contributions, but for now I’ll leave you with a gif I made from one of the most iconic scenes in the original series; Glastonbury Woolenbury Grove.

Stay tuned, all will become clear, honest…

**********

#SoCS

Pingback to Linda G Hill.

 

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Reblog: Learning the lessons

I’d like to introduce you to another friend of mine who has just started a blog.
She had dipped her toes in the waters of WordPress before, then somehow mislaid her login details and lost all the original posts, but now she’s back and writing better than ever.

Hop over and say hello, so you too can learn some lessons of life.

The Lessons

I quit school when I was 17 and spent two years trying to get the GED. I failed the math and writing multiple times, and after a while I quit again. I went back to try a final time, at which point my teacher told me I could do a high school completion course. After a year and a half, I graduated as a member of the Nation Adult Education Honor Society.
Lesson one: Believe in yourself.

My son attends a magnificent school with wonderful teachers. I just found out today that he is being bullied, and he is afraid to tell the bus driver. The boys who are picking on him used to be his friends, and now that my son turned over a new leaf, they don’t like him. I asked him what he plans to do, almost afraid that he would say that he would go back to…

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Posted by on February 3, 2017 in Blogging, Personal anecdote

 

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Reblog: Time heals all wounds

Lanthie had a tough Christmas, but she’s determined to make it a good New Year and it’d be great if you could click over to her blog and show her some support. Thanks.

Lump, what lump?

Found myself very dehydrated again on Wedesday last week.  Went to the oncology centre for my second last radiation treatment.  My last treatment was not quite a celebration.  On the way home I said to my boyfriend I think I need to be in hospital.  He was not thrilled by the idea but knew I was right.

I was a wreck.  I could not stand for more than a minute at a time.   I was pale and had no energy.  Still not being able to eat or drink anything.  Hadn’t done either in days as nothing stays down.  Something sets off a gag reflex and I just bring anything up, filled with mucous.

So I was admitted on Wedneday afternoon by my oncologist. It is now a week later and am still here in hospital.  Yes, I spent Christmas in hospital.  And it’s not nearly as much fun as…

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Posted by on December 29, 2016 in Blogging, Personal anecdote

 

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