Tag Archives: memories

Fish Fingers and Facetime Heartbreak

They told us in the most technologically advanced way they could, via Facetime. I was actually impressed. This was the only time my Mum has managed to Facetime us herself straight off.

I wonder if anyone else has used their ipads in this way. However it was the only way they could see us, virtually better than nothing at all.

As I saw their faces nervously stare back at the screen and I knew it wasn’t good.

As a nurse, I am used to bad news. I hear it, I say it. I am hardened to the cold, grey words.

But when it is personal, when it is your family, the colour and the pain sear into your heart.

Memories and thoughts flash through my mind. Some good, some bad.

I feel a sadness descend over me.

And then I have to snap out of it, and cook fish fingers and chips for my little girl, who keeps asking me what is wrong.

I sit with her and watch YouTube videos of cartoon Monkeys falling off a bed.They fall off, they get up, and they do it all over again.

She must know something is up as she has eaten all her fish finger without prompting, and I silently make a note to use this information at a later date.

I desperately want to forget about all of this. But I can’t, and it’s real.

I feel the sadness grow and spread just like the cancer that has invaded my family.

 

 

 

Remembering

It’s a funny thing, your belongings. Some are practical, and therefore are needed, whereas others are not really that useful at all. So why do we keep all this stuff?

My sister was going through some old CDs the other day, and sending them off to get some money. It reminded me of the time I threw away all my old music cassettes.

I remember it well. It was in 2006. I had a pile of belongings and I was routing through them all. I was essentially homeless and needed to reduce my belongings by about two thirds. I knew, at the time, as I poured plastic rectangular cases from a dusty silver box and into the black bin bag, that I would regret doing so. I don’t think I’d listened to any of the cassettes for years, seeing as my cd player at the time seemed to chew them up and spit them out like a crazy robot.

But it was the memories, the thoughts that were almost recorded into that brown tape. The people I had been with, where I had bought them, why I had bought them. The songs were ones which took me back to events, and people, and reminded me of my terrible taste in music as a ten year old (Wet, Wet, Wet? Shampoo?). I even had a few tapes which I’d recorded myself, carefully waiting by the radio to cut off the talking bits. Recordings of me and sisters radio shows too.

Could I have kept a few? I guess. But what was the point? I’d never listen to them again. As if to prove my point, I no longer even own a product that you could put a cassette into. These tapes, these memories would just sit around in a box, gathering dust, lying dormant.

I chucked lots of other stuff out that day, but I can’t really remember what it was. That stuff is lost to the abyss of time, and if any memories were worth keeping, they should be stored away in my head, not in a box. I regret throwing the tapes away, when I think back to that moment. But you know, I don’t think I really do in reality.

Same with these baby clothes and toys. Harbouring these things, coveting every item. I’ve already sold a few on eBay. Yes, I may keep a few, but do I need to keep everything? keeping things doesn’t mean you remember things any better. I remember reading something (possibly Alex Garland’s The Beach) where it said the person doesn’t take photos as it distorts the memory. I kind of like that idea, which is ironic really being a blogger.

You know I really need to have a clear out sometime soon, cupboards, and boxes, and minds.

Happy writing

I love pens. I do, honest. I love a nice pen to write with. At work, I keep a close eye on my pens in case they go walkabouts.

I was ever so pleased when pilot pens got in touch to ask if I would be interested in writing down those little, special moments with Bubs down in a journal. Using their fab pens, of course!

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There is something about writing something down, with a pen in my hand,that makes it real. It’s a true memory stored away. Yes, online I can record so much but the actual physical act of writing can lock it into my brain.

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I have really enjoyed writing something each day, and looking back over the last month now, there are so many of these little things I’d completely forgotten about! I am definitely going to keep writing down these little moments as it’s such a lovely record to have!

Writing them all down with the fabulous pens I have been given has been a pleasure. The Frixion pen is lovely to write with, very smooth and flows well. I also love the fact you can erase with it! All the pens have worked straight away with no annoying scribbling-on-a -scrap-of-paper-to-get-it-working and they are fab colours. So basically, I love them. I take them everywhere with me!

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I think it would make a lovely gift for a new mum – a little notebook and a pen – I wish I’d had one right from the beginning. You get a lot of thoughts pop into your head during night feeds! Just to record all those little moments, I can’t believe how many things I would have forgotten if I hadn’t written them down.

Sometimes it’s just nice to pick up a pen and write, it’s something that we do less and less now computers are everywhere. Pick up a pen and write something today!

I was sent a small notebook and some pens by Pilot Pens in order to take part in #happywriting. All thoughts and opinions are my own

House

A new house to call our own. My first house I have ever bought. If I think too much about it then I may panic slightly.

I am sad to leave this rented house. It has been a good house, full of lovely memories. It’s the only house we’ve rented. Before this, we had a basement flat that was riddled with damp. Everything we owned was covered in black mould.

I’d just had my ectopic pregnancy when we were given notice to leave that flat. The mould taking over the walls were a representation of my mind; black and dark and cold.

The moment I saw this house, I was happy. The sun shone and daffodils were in the garden. The first time I’d felt happy for a while. The relief to leave that flat, where something so horrible had happened, was overwhelming.

I have lived in this house. I have found out I was pregnant in this house. I have brought my newborn baby to this house. I have cried, and laughed and had late night baby feeding cuddles in this house.

I will miss this house. This home that is the first that Bubs has ever known. I find it odd that she will never remember this house. This house where so much has happened for me, and for her.

So, on to pastures new. Our own home, secure, safe and a place to decorate how I like. A garden, a garage, and best of all a DISHWASHER. It’s going to change my life. It’s a brand new house, we will be the first people to impart our memories into its walls.

I can only imagine what fun we will have here. What the future lies in store. I can’t believe I have a place now all of my own. A place for us as a family. Our house, on our street.

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