The Opinion of Mister G Raft

I asked and I received. I've been requesting/pleading my close friend Mister G Raft to do a guest blog. He has a whole load of opinion and makes me squeal with laughter at his scathing put downs and quite often, accurate assessments of human nature. So ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the first and hopefully not the last, guest blog from Mr G Raft. 

Why I hate the word Hun. 

The word Hun is ridiculous, and to say that being called it (generally by an over-opinionated wannabe- hard body) grinds my gears would be a vast understatement!

The fact that it just oozes laziness is just one of the reasons why ....

You see, Hun is used by woman who do not have anything else to say to you or to call you: it is used a little like the word 'lad' is by folks of the older generation, describing someone insignificant, who's name you choose not to use, and who's name you do not deem worthy of using. 

Did I mention did Hun is patronising, and I am sure I am not the only male who feels this?!

The other type of woman who fits this mould is between the ages of 26 and 34  - and they may be found sparingly using this term for guys or gents (whoever they may be) as a male pet name. 

You see if a woman calls you Hun, you are just another number in her little Red book!!  There is no compassion or love behind that word, they will not use your name as you are not that close and you never will be!!  And no - she won't be inviting you out for burgers if she uses that 3 letter word.....

If there was a male equivalent of the word ( and I assure you there is). It would have to be darling. 

Female readers - do you just wanna be another 'darling' to that person?

So, in closing I've got another 3 letter word for anyone who has been enlightened by this post.... RUN!!

Thank you to T_B

I have a thank you to say. 

Driving home last night from my parents, I was wracked with sobs. It was an emotional night seeing family not seen for years, talking about Peter.  I thought my days of car-crying were over but it appears they were just dormant. Truly, I know it's not a safe or sensible thing to do but car-crying when I'm alone is therapeutic. 

Anyway, I was sobbing so hard, I thought my brain might explode or my eyes pop out. But I had TB waiting for me at home. I had to dry my eyes and stop the heaving. 

I know I looked like a mess when I walked in, I know I was all blotchy of face and red and wet of eye. 

But he didn't say a word, he just cuddled me. 

So I say thank you for not asking if I was okay. For making me smile and laugh and squander cents in a game I know so little about (wish I knew more...is it a flaw or a trait to want to know it all before you've started?). For chewing popcorn and drinking caramel. For listening when I talk nonsense. 

There's not even a million MasterCard adverts that can put how priceless a hug is. There is no price tag on friendships and other ships (although sailing ships are different, they cost). 

My brother

When i was little and growing up, all I wanted was an older brother. 

When I was eight, I got one. From England. All long legs and blonde hair. Rangy I guess would be an apt description. Tons older than me but he was exactly what I ordered. He play fought, he threw me in the air, he dangled me from goalposts - not an euphuism, he actually did that. A lot. And he took the Mickey out of me incessantly.  He took my side. As I said, everything I ordered. He had demons, but never took them out on me. 

When I came overseas. Again, he reverted to big brother mode. I loved it. He called me little sis. Hell, I loved being an only child of my parents. But I also loved having half siblings. 

Today my big brother died. And I am in disbelief. I only saw him 6 weeks ago, he promised me fresh strawberries from his allotment. He's gone now. He's never going to call me his little sister again. 

Yes, he had troubles and I don't think I could have changed them. Could I have been a better sister? Possibly. Would he have accepted any help? Possibly not. 

My heart breaks for my dad, Peter's mother. No one should bury a child, no matter the age. 

RIP Peter, my big brother. 

Xx

Picture of a pregnant fairy

So that timehop app tells me this picture below was sent to me 2years ago. I opened it up (the app) this morning to see it.  

Wow, does it sting....

It kicks a punch to the belly, it smashes my heart and chews it up. It truly does sometimes feel that all the air is sucked out of me. 

It's also the 11th today. Two months after this picture was taken and sent, she died. This is the last picture she sent me. And there it is. In two months she was no longer around. And this year makes two years of that goddamn awful day. Last year, I mourned so badly and hard. And I wanted this year to be a bit more reflective and 'happier' - you know more about the loving and living she did. But today...today I feel I want my soul mate to talk to. Damn that app!! And back to that picture we go ....

I remember this conversation so well. She was going on and on about nothing fitting etc and I was telling her how beautiful that bump made her. She felt crap, and I know I made her smile and laugh for that chat. That on this day two years ago, I had one of the last giggles and chats with my best friend. That she said "oh Ali my nunu" at least five times and that we made each other snort with laughter. Actually, I think this might have been the chat we self analysed our teenage selfs and so on. And came out of it saying to each other "oh yes, of course you're right". 

She knew me, she got me and vice versa. 

Miss you Noodles. 

And you know sometimes I'm not so bad, I always miss Nhandi and I always will. Some days i laugh and others I cry. Some I am angry she's left me and other days I'm angry at everyone else. Today is just a day that catches me on the hop, unawares. But this helps, blog you help me. Because as I write how sore I get, I also remember how lucky we were for having a friendship that was like ours. A lot of people never feel that. And I smile at stuff. And I laugh at memories. 

Tears of laughter and sorrow have learnt to mingle well. 

RIP

Rest in Peace Gavin,

So today I learnt of a school friend of mine's passing. Ah no he wasn't a school friend - he was a gentleman amongst loutish boys.

I first met Gavin at The Break. It was a place by school which had pool tables. I went to an all-girls school, it was where we met up with the boys. A great place for a sneaky cigarette and to see actual male folk. It was my version of Heaven really (at that time - I'd add chocolate to the mix now).

Anyway, the first couple of times, Gav was just a bloke who came with Peter and was cute. One day I was dumped publicly at The Break. It was the first time Gav spoke to me 'I'll punch that doos for you' he said. As I said: a gentleman. He didn't punch anyone but he did get punched himself for sticking up for me. Things like that you just don't forget. But I didn't see him that way because he was a nice guy and at age 15, nice guys don't get the girls really.

Fast forward about 8 months of teenage life. I went to England for 8 weeks (or 100 years depending on who you talk to) and on my first weekend back, we had the Constantia Carnival. It was good, there was much fun and Gavin asked me out.

And you know, he was a gentleman, he's the kind of guy you wished your daughter would go out with. I was just shy of 16, so it wasn't an heavy affair but it was typical schoolgirl stuff.

He was the first boy to send me a Valentines card that wasn't my dad. In truth, he was the first boy who made it special. Of course I was embarrassed - I still must be the only girl who cringes at the thought of someone buying me stuff. Secretly chuffed to bits but embarrassed. He got his sister who was a few years younger to present me with a gift before school, and then at every break. Roses, teddies and cards. We used to swap cards with the boys school - he sent 10 and 5 roses. He took me out for dinner.

And then I broke his heart and he didn't talk to me for months. Eventually, when I was leaving Cape Town, I asked if he would talk to me again and he did, he forgave me my behaviour. Did I mention he was that nice guy?

We've kept in contact sporadically, through the years and then as people do: Facebook. Always knew he'd do well - marriage, children etc.

It's a shock. My heart breaks for his wife and children and the rest of his family.

R I P Gavin....

The Hunger Inside

Today I'd like to explore food....

It's mid afternoon and all of a sudden I'm STARVING! Then the realisation hits a person and you remember that you were counting on a yoghurt for breakfast, the canteen didn't have any and thus, all you've eaten is a bag of popcorn. I can add 4 cups of coffee to that mix.

But as I said, it's mid-afternoon, I can't eat now - that would ruin my evening supper. And there is only disgusting stuff on the trolley that travels through the office - a quiche that looks like it's been thrown to wild dogs before making it's way to this building. Wild dogs that might have sat on it, gnawed the sides, paw printed the insides and then thrown it up again. There was a few sandwiches that said chicken mayo and egg mayo but they were foul looking as opposed to fowl. I don't think anything remotely poultry or farm based has ever been near that sandwich masquerading as food.

So I shall raid my bag and find chocolate and hopefully that'll  help me through.

But what is for food later? Boiled eggs and soldiers? Pasta with lashings of garlic and chilli and stuff?

Rumbles of the stomach commence!

Stepping into the chill

I'm sitting outside on my step (see third ever blog I think) and it really is one of my 'places'. Where I can think, where I feel ok. 

My reflective step? My happy step? I'm not sure it needs a label but this step has seen it all and been quite the step. 

So I'm out here now and I can feel autumn nipping it's way in.  It's not fierce in it's approach but it's coming. It's making it's presence felt. I'll need a cushion to keep my derrière warm in a matter of weeks. 

Anyway, it's nice. I can hear the sounds of urban life, kids still playing outside, cars zooming around and the sky is still blue. Crisscrossed with white ribbons of cloud and airplane trails. But it is blue. 

Everything is still green...this is England  after all. To the untrained, it could be spring. I also have a neighbour who has such a laugh on him. I'd love to know what makes his belly giggle so much. 

And I am calm. I have questions, many I probably won't ask. I also have that 6th sense of perception so it's maybe best I don't. 

I am a bit like spring/autumn today. Sunny with a hint of chill. Putting on the summer but really I'm gearing up for cold/ice. I recognise this, that's an achievement, a progress if you will. 

Bring a jumper, and a cushion. 

180 minutes

3 hours sleep. That is all I'm running on. On the day my CG goes off to college, I'm nothing short of a zombie. BUT I still took the 'first day of school' photo. How different from that little 4 year old in shorts 12 years ago! But the smile is still there and that's the important bit. And I wish for him, that this chapter of his life is just such an awesome one.

And I'm manic, I can feel myself over compensating for the lack of sleep and the sad... I apologise in advance to all near me for that. For I shall be ever so annoying today. My head also hurts.

So last night, when I did sleep, I had a dream where Jimmy from Boardwalk Empire was telling me who I was, what kind of a person I could be. He was telling me it's not a flaw to be easy going, but it is a flaw to be a walk over. I'm not a walk over. I may come across that way as I walk from confrontation and would rather do that.

I am also a great believer in that people do and say what they want (it's what I do and it makes sense). And if they say that they don't want me, should I show I care by fighting? No, I think that pushes people away. I'd rather they just come around to me on their own terms. Maybe that makes me come across as uncaring, but I do care, I care so much.

And the one person I want an hug from, is the one person that can't.

Expect plenty writing from me today - it might just be the difference between falling asleep at my desk and snoring!

Tonight I am....crap

I wrote a blog earlier but it's far too much emotion and soul to post. 

I'm honest with my words but I think some words are best left to my diary and maybe when I'm long dead, strangers (or maybe great great grand children) can read the words I've written since I was ten and wonder what kind of woman I was. 

I would say this, I'm a woman who gives of herself a little more each time. That it took her many many years and tears to be able to give 100% to anyone and although tonight may be a truly sad night and it really is: The whole truth remains that I'm so glad Im giving the true me. That Im allowing myself to enjoy everything. There's always a sense of self preservation with me. And this is no different. Tomorrow, no one will know my heart feels a bit train wrecked. No one will know that I feel scared of losing another best friend. Let's face it (and possibly add some humour), I'm not having great luck in the keeping of people. I must have been truly a crap person in a previous life. Whatever I did, please man, I've learnt the lesson! ;-) 

Said wholly tongue in cheek but with a bit of serious thrown in. 

Anyway, I'm sad and I don't want to switch the light off lest the water from my eye parts trickles out.