I need to write about Pat’s memorial service because it was different. It wasn’t your usual run-of-the-mill solemn, tearful funeral service. It was uplifting, joyous and a true celebration of a life.
The Church was full. Ten minutes to wait before the family arrived.
The service began with ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’, setting the tone for an uplifting occasion. This was a hymn my mother requested to be sung at her funeral, but that never happened because my sisters organized everything overseas and I forgot to mention her request. So I sang ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ for my mother.
As we moved on after the psalm and readings, ‘A Time of Remembrance’ was recalled by Lisa, Pat’s daughter. I knew Pat only as a person I saw once a week in church. We enjoyed a couple of serious conversations, shared grandchildren pictures and I had worked church duties with her. We had fun. She was a very pleasant person to be around – and she always had the most gorgeous outfits.
Lisa spoke so eloquently about her mother’s life. Pat’s achievements in her busy life were amazing, and I really regretted that I had not known her a little better.
We sang ‘She Flies On’ and the Prayer of St. Francis’, both of which highlighted the personality which was Pat.
Our priest shared his homily prefaced by remarks that Pat, herself, had planned this service. With a wry smile he related how Pat had warned him that the service was to be a joyous, positive occasion and experience, which it certainly was.
Throughout the service, thoughts came to me periodically; thoughts about life and death, living, family and marriage etc. Pat and her husband Eric had been married for 45 years. Where, oh where is that ethic now? What, I wonder, could have been achieved in society as a whole from many more people in a solid, firm permanent marriage, rather than with second partners and extended scattered family?
Upon concluding the service, Kevin announced that Pat was going to have the last word with a recording of ‘What a Beautiful World’ sung by Louis Armstrong. As the strains of this lovely melody and the gravelly tones of Louis Armstrong enveloped the church, all was silent and still. It was almost as if there was a huge communal hug going on between Pat, her family and friends.
Indeed, I felt that Pat was really and truly with us through the entire service; a smile of joy and satisfaction spreading across her face as Louis Armstrong came to the end of his famous song.
May the Lord keep you with him for all eternity, Pat. We will meet again at some time, some day.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
ZUCCHINI FOR SALE
Before I go out to see if Don is planting the tomatoes correctly, thought I should open my e-mail. So here I am. Susan, I don't know if you saved me from going outside or Don from listening to me telling him that what he is doing with the tomatoes is all wrong! But that's O.K. because he is pretty good at ignoring me.
Back to your Blog; really enjoyed your article on Old Biddy. No one wants to admit they are an old biddy and I can see your Mother's point - everyone is old but her. I felt the same way when I went to my Class Reunion. I was a spring chicken compared to everybody else there.
Now, if I only knew how to get to your website on my own! I will ask the computer guy when he comes in from planting the tomatoes. He has completely landscaped a large area in which to plant five tomatoe plants. Our next door neighbour gave us two (one is one too many) zucchini plants. Just think, all this time I thought he liked us! I have a feeling this is why Don has dug and composted and built a wall around this large area, so the zucchini will have room to grow – never mind the tomatoes. I have a problem with this, because now the neighbour will be encouraged to give us some more plants next year. I would have planted the zucchinis with the hope the bugs would enjoy them and leave the tomatoes alone. Maybe I could make tiny, tiny signs!
Incidentally, glad to hear you like zucchini, we will put you on our list of things to do with the Zucchini. Small zucchinis for salads are good, but if you let them go longer than a week, you get these huge odd shaped things good only for Zucchini loaves, and you can only eat so many zucchini loaves. You know, I think they may be good for children who want to learn how to carve – with very dull knives! Will let you know what corner Don will be standing on when giving the away the Zucchinis.
Definitely NOT a Zucchini fan
Back to your Blog; really enjoyed your article on Old Biddy. No one wants to admit they are an old biddy and I can see your Mother's point - everyone is old but her. I felt the same way when I went to my Class Reunion. I was a spring chicken compared to everybody else there.
Now, if I only knew how to get to your website on my own! I will ask the computer guy when he comes in from planting the tomatoes. He has completely landscaped a large area in which to plant five tomatoe plants. Our next door neighbour gave us two (one is one too many) zucchini plants. Just think, all this time I thought he liked us! I have a feeling this is why Don has dug and composted and built a wall around this large area, so the zucchini will have room to grow – never mind the tomatoes. I have a problem with this, because now the neighbour will be encouraged to give us some more plants next year. I would have planted the zucchinis with the hope the bugs would enjoy them and leave the tomatoes alone. Maybe I could make tiny, tiny signs!
Incidentally, glad to hear you like zucchini, we will put you on our list of things to do with the Zucchini. Small zucchinis for salads are good, but if you let them go longer than a week, you get these huge odd shaped things good only for Zucchini loaves, and you can only eat so many zucchini loaves. You know, I think they may be good for children who want to learn how to carve – with very dull knives! Will let you know what corner Don will be standing on when giving the away the Zucchinis.
Definitely NOT a Zucchini fan
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Feedback: One Old Biddy to Another on "The Scales"
You are too hard on yourself, I have, like you, been on every kind of diet you can think of. If I could turn back time I would have tried harder to keep the weight off, when I lost it all at Weight Watchers. Things I learned when weighing in every week. It never works, but people try it anyway.
Sneak up on the scale; -or hold your breath - this one really doesn't make sense you should be blowing the air out not keeping it. (How much does air weigh??). To continue, stand on one foot; stand tall and hold your breath; take off everything you can and still be decent or say to hell with it.
As long as your blood pressure is ok, your diabetes is in check and you fell pretty good, except for the arthritis......Still it would be nice to lose a bunch of pounds.
Biddy Jean
Sneak up on the scale; -or hold your breath - this one really doesn't make sense you should be blowing the air out not keeping it. (How much does air weigh??). To continue, stand on one foot; stand tall and hold your breath; take off everything you can and still be decent or say to hell with it.
As long as your blood pressure is ok, your diabetes is in check and you fell pretty good, except for the arthritis......Still it would be nice to lose a bunch of pounds.
Biddy Jean
Thursday, June 18, 2009
The Day The Scales Crashed
“You lie”, I screamed as I stood on the scales after two weeks of near starvation, only to find the indicator still at the same figure as last time. In blind fury I jumped with all my might on the scales and that, I'm afraid, was the end of my weighing apparatus.
I was desperate and the problem - what to do about it? After all, the medical profession, weight loss companies and diet pundits trumpet their success mainly with young, nubile women who achieve fantastic weight losses in a record period of time. Not once do you hear about a plodding, older, slower biddy who has achieved any kind of success following the same regimen in any period of time, as in my case.
However, make no mistake about it, the weight loss organizations will assert that if you stick to a diet, preferably their particular diet, you will lose weight.
There is no one, I am certain, absolutely no one living who has had more experience dieting over the past 40 years than myself. Furthermore, I know my body inside out and back to front. Success was always mine when I was younger, even when I thought I was overweight at size 14! Now, nothing moves. Not even exercise in a gym for three months four times per week and a diet of approximately 1400 calories can assist.
I sit and chat with doctors who admit ‘they don’t know’. I see a specialist in obesity who is over the moon with the prospect of having yet another guinea pig for drug controlled diet tests. When he finds out that due to a particular medication I am taking I don’t fit the specifications of the test drug manufacturer, I am dropped immediately.
What can be done? It seems to be a well known fact that as you grow older, so it becomes much more difficult to lose weight. To a person like myself who is in possession of a stubborn body, the weight control organizations, while never admitting defeat, tend to give up on you. The medical profession cannot help so they placate you with the admission that they simply don’t have any answers apart from the old maxim that the less calories you consume the more weight you will lose.
This may be generally true, but we all know that different bodies respond to different diets. An 800 calorie diet for me yielded no success because my body thought it was being attacked and went into shut down mode. The only time I lost weight on few calories, was in a hospital bed for 10 days, drinking three meal replacement drinks a day.
As for your nearest and dearest friends and relatives, they utter silly platitudes like, get comfortable with your overweight image and accept it and stop worrying. Not on your life!The above arguments are not acceptable for me - not when you are clinically obese and biologically time is running out. It is not a healthy situation viewed in any light.
I want to continue life as a fit and healthy woman, enjoying a good quality of life, so shedding weight is a must. Growing old with an obesity problem is not an option.
Many other people must have this problem, and I would love to have your thoughts on the subject – please share them with me.
I was desperate and the problem - what to do about it? After all, the medical profession, weight loss companies and diet pundits trumpet their success mainly with young, nubile women who achieve fantastic weight losses in a record period of time. Not once do you hear about a plodding, older, slower biddy who has achieved any kind of success following the same regimen in any period of time, as in my case.
However, make no mistake about it, the weight loss organizations will assert that if you stick to a diet, preferably their particular diet, you will lose weight.
There is no one, I am certain, absolutely no one living who has had more experience dieting over the past 40 years than myself. Furthermore, I know my body inside out and back to front. Success was always mine when I was younger, even when I thought I was overweight at size 14! Now, nothing moves. Not even exercise in a gym for three months four times per week and a diet of approximately 1400 calories can assist.
I sit and chat with doctors who admit ‘they don’t know’. I see a specialist in obesity who is over the moon with the prospect of having yet another guinea pig for drug controlled diet tests. When he finds out that due to a particular medication I am taking I don’t fit the specifications of the test drug manufacturer, I am dropped immediately.
What can be done? It seems to be a well known fact that as you grow older, so it becomes much more difficult to lose weight. To a person like myself who is in possession of a stubborn body, the weight control organizations, while never admitting defeat, tend to give up on you. The medical profession cannot help so they placate you with the admission that they simply don’t have any answers apart from the old maxim that the less calories you consume the more weight you will lose.
This may be generally true, but we all know that different bodies respond to different diets. An 800 calorie diet for me yielded no success because my body thought it was being attacked and went into shut down mode. The only time I lost weight on few calories, was in a hospital bed for 10 days, drinking three meal replacement drinks a day.
As for your nearest and dearest friends and relatives, they utter silly platitudes like, get comfortable with your overweight image and accept it and stop worrying. Not on your life!The above arguments are not acceptable for me - not when you are clinically obese and biologically time is running out. It is not a healthy situation viewed in any light.
I want to continue life as a fit and healthy woman, enjoying a good quality of life, so shedding weight is a must. Growing old with an obesity problem is not an option.
Many other people must have this problem, and I would love to have your thoughts on the subject – please share them with me.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Ghosts in the Attic?
“What was that?” Denis exclaimed – “Where’s Dog?”.
“Dog’s here, by my feet; what’s the problem?”
“Didn’t you hear that thud?”
No, I hadn’t heard the thud and since Denis didn’t seem overly concerned about it, the silent evening continued with us both working away at our respective tasks.
A couple of hours later, there was another thud and I heard it this time. Odd, I thought to myself, the house does creak and groan from time to time, but I’ve never heard a thud before now. I was just trying to work all this out when there was yet another thud. Not a very loud one, but it definitely sounded as though someone or some object was coming into contact with the wall. The trouble is, there is no wall in the attic, except the outside wall and it sounded like an inside thud – not an outside thud.
We experienced this noise later in the evening in what appeared to be in the attic above our bedroom, but we still couldn’t figure out what it was. I can’t say that we were frightened or particularly worried about it, but it was an uncomfortable feeling.
Obviously this thump, once started, didn’t feel like stopping and we heard it the following day and again in the evening, whereupon I decreed that steps must be taken to investigate. Denis could not go up into the attic, and I would not go up into the attic so, working on the assumption that it must be some sort of large rodents, or, heaven forbid, even a coon, we called our friendly pest control expert the following morning.
Dave arrived just before noon and I was anxious to find out if he had been called out for this kind of thing before.
“Oh, lots of times,” said Dave, with a large grin spreading from one ear to the other, “but most of the time it’s just ghosts in the attic!” Knowing what my reaction might be to that last sentence, he hurriedly climbed the ladder to the attic.
He found nothing, certainly no coon; after he had climbed down the ladder, he heard the thud which prompted him to revise his opinion of ghosts in the attic and he decided to take a tour around the house outside.
Five minutes later, he reported back with his findings. We were all agog thinking that our little mystery might soon be solved.
“It could well be something to do with the attachment of the main electric cable to the house” Dave, the pest control expert explained. This cable swung across the road and up to the side of the house where it is attached to some kind of fixture on the outside wall of the house. “Phone Hydro,” he suggested.
The following day, having heard more “thumps in the night” I called Hydro. The operator at the other end of the phone explained that the gadget which attaches the cable to the house is called an Emily knob and as such was not Hydro’s responsibility. Ah, I thought, we are running true to form – pass the buck. The operator suggested I call an electrician.
Friday morning dawned, with more thuds during the night and I was on the phone to the electrician. Yes, they would come out some time today.
Two electricians turned up at 1:30 p.m., and did a thorough investigation, absolutely intrigued with their unusual problem at this residence. Apparently the Emily knob was sound and secure, as was the electric cable attached to it. Since the cable entered the house below the attic line, the electricians ruled out the Emily knob or the cable being the cause of our small problem. Why were Dave and ourselves not able to figure that out before I called Hydro, because I guess were are not electricians.
While standing at the bottom of the ladder to the attic, both electricians heard the thud, and raced back up again to see what they could see which was absolutely nothing. Finally, they left, completely perplexed, as was I. What next, I wondered.
What came next was a cessation of thumps, and a huge bill from the electricians.
I must report that we didn’t hear another sound for about three weeks; but the thudding started again on Tuesday.
Stay tuned for an update on Ghosts in the Attic?
© Susan Lancaster
“Dog’s here, by my feet; what’s the problem?”
“Didn’t you hear that thud?”
No, I hadn’t heard the thud and since Denis didn’t seem overly concerned about it, the silent evening continued with us both working away at our respective tasks.
A couple of hours later, there was another thud and I heard it this time. Odd, I thought to myself, the house does creak and groan from time to time, but I’ve never heard a thud before now. I was just trying to work all this out when there was yet another thud. Not a very loud one, but it definitely sounded as though someone or some object was coming into contact with the wall. The trouble is, there is no wall in the attic, except the outside wall and it sounded like an inside thud – not an outside thud.
We experienced this noise later in the evening in what appeared to be in the attic above our bedroom, but we still couldn’t figure out what it was. I can’t say that we were frightened or particularly worried about it, but it was an uncomfortable feeling.
Obviously this thump, once started, didn’t feel like stopping and we heard it the following day and again in the evening, whereupon I decreed that steps must be taken to investigate. Denis could not go up into the attic, and I would not go up into the attic so, working on the assumption that it must be some sort of large rodents, or, heaven forbid, even a coon, we called our friendly pest control expert the following morning.
Dave arrived just before noon and I was anxious to find out if he had been called out for this kind of thing before.
“Oh, lots of times,” said Dave, with a large grin spreading from one ear to the other, “but most of the time it’s just ghosts in the attic!” Knowing what my reaction might be to that last sentence, he hurriedly climbed the ladder to the attic.
He found nothing, certainly no coon; after he had climbed down the ladder, he heard the thud which prompted him to revise his opinion of ghosts in the attic and he decided to take a tour around the house outside.
Five minutes later, he reported back with his findings. We were all agog thinking that our little mystery might soon be solved.
“It could well be something to do with the attachment of the main electric cable to the house” Dave, the pest control expert explained. This cable swung across the road and up to the side of the house where it is attached to some kind of fixture on the outside wall of the house. “Phone Hydro,” he suggested.
The following day, having heard more “thumps in the night” I called Hydro. The operator at the other end of the phone explained that the gadget which attaches the cable to the house is called an Emily knob and as such was not Hydro’s responsibility. Ah, I thought, we are running true to form – pass the buck. The operator suggested I call an electrician.
Friday morning dawned, with more thuds during the night and I was on the phone to the electrician. Yes, they would come out some time today.
Two electricians turned up at 1:30 p.m., and did a thorough investigation, absolutely intrigued with their unusual problem at this residence. Apparently the Emily knob was sound and secure, as was the electric cable attached to it. Since the cable entered the house below the attic line, the electricians ruled out the Emily knob or the cable being the cause of our small problem. Why were Dave and ourselves not able to figure that out before I called Hydro, because I guess were are not electricians.
While standing at the bottom of the ladder to the attic, both electricians heard the thud, and raced back up again to see what they could see which was absolutely nothing. Finally, they left, completely perplexed, as was I. What next, I wondered.
What came next was a cessation of thumps, and a huge bill from the electricians.
I must report that we didn’t hear another sound for about three weeks; but the thudding started again on Tuesday.
Stay tuned for an update on Ghosts in the Attic?
© Susan Lancaster
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
The Funky Laundry Room
For the first time I have to admit that I can no longer go like a bat out of hell to accomplish certain projects. I am 70 but like most older people, I feel that my mind is still operating at a much younger age. You feel that nothing can hold you back from accomplishing whatever you set your mind to do – until you start!
Multitasking has already become a thing of the past and I am quite incapable of thinking about more than one thing at one time. So, what has led me to this startling revelation – that I must admit defeat in the ‘do it in five minutes department’? The funky laundry room (funky, new biddy term for messy) - that’s what.
The laundry room in our house is like a general bottomless pit for all things having no specific home. Do you know how great it is to have a room like this? The advantages are as follows:
You don’t have to think where to put something.
You know you can shut the door and forget about whatever you’ve put in there.
You have the freedom to put the article on the nearest shelf or in any space you can find – even piled on top of other things if necessary.
You don’t have to remember to put it away later.
It is one less thing littering the rest of the house.
Yes, the laundry room is the perfect resting place for all things that don’t have a designated place – until it is time to clean it up because there is simply no more room for anything else and you can’t even get the door closed. That creates some massive problems. Not the least of which is a husband who has items stored which he hasn’t touched for three years! But is he going to move them – not on your life. Why not, because he is too doggone lazy and he is also a pack rat.
The cleaning up of the laundry room, which normally should take one hour, now seemed endless. I fussed and funkied around here and there, creating more work for myself because I had no plan. (That’s another thing I don’t do any more - planning). To cut a long story short, I spent about 2.5 hours on it before making lunch.
After lunch, I spent about half an hour arguing with myself about the whole darn mess, and then gave up. What a waste of time – this arguing with oneself, I mean. The laundry room isn’t going to run away –it has been in a complete mess for about 6 months, so one more day shouldn’t matter and furthermore, even if it isn’t finished tomorrow, it will be finished the next day – so what.
The worst is yet to come; I still have to convince one husband that something like the package of deer hair he is hoarding in the funky laundry room, for tying fishing flies, is not at the top of the consideration list for keeping, since he stopped fishing about three years ago!
Multitasking has already become a thing of the past and I am quite incapable of thinking about more than one thing at one time. So, what has led me to this startling revelation – that I must admit defeat in the ‘do it in five minutes department’? The funky laundry room (funky, new biddy term for messy) - that’s what.
The laundry room in our house is like a general bottomless pit for all things having no specific home. Do you know how great it is to have a room like this? The advantages are as follows:
You don’t have to think where to put something.
You know you can shut the door and forget about whatever you’ve put in there.
You have the freedom to put the article on the nearest shelf or in any space you can find – even piled on top of other things if necessary.
You don’t have to remember to put it away later.
It is one less thing littering the rest of the house.
Yes, the laundry room is the perfect resting place for all things that don’t have a designated place – until it is time to clean it up because there is simply no more room for anything else and you can’t even get the door closed. That creates some massive problems. Not the least of which is a husband who has items stored which he hasn’t touched for three years! But is he going to move them – not on your life. Why not, because he is too doggone lazy and he is also a pack rat.
The cleaning up of the laundry room, which normally should take one hour, now seemed endless. I fussed and funkied around here and there, creating more work for myself because I had no plan. (That’s another thing I don’t do any more - planning). To cut a long story short, I spent about 2.5 hours on it before making lunch.
After lunch, I spent about half an hour arguing with myself about the whole darn mess, and then gave up. What a waste of time – this arguing with oneself, I mean. The laundry room isn’t going to run away –it has been in a complete mess for about 6 months, so one more day shouldn’t matter and furthermore, even if it isn’t finished tomorrow, it will be finished the next day – so what.
The worst is yet to come; I still have to convince one husband that something like the package of deer hair he is hoarding in the funky laundry room, for tying fishing flies, is not at the top of the consideration list for keeping, since he stopped fishing about three years ago!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
About Me
“Oh, I’m not going down to eat with those old biddies,” said my mother, in reply to my question about eating plans, “I will have lunch in my room, thank you.” Whereupon, she turned back to read her book and that was the end of any further conversation. Once, I did dare to remind her that she herself was an old biddy, so why was she complaining? She flattened me with such a look and frantically started her crossword. I never pursued it any further.
This all took place in very attractive nursing home amongst the hills of Wales, UK, where my mother spent the last ten years of her life. Unfortunately, I lived in Canada, and therefore didn’t see her as often as I would like to have seen her, because she was not only my mother, but my best friend. Let me tell you - I really needed her wisdom at times.
Mother was in her mid-to-late eighties when she started to describe other women as old biddies. In comparison, I’m a bit younger, but I’ve decided that the term old biddy suits me quite well. So be it.
Other than being an old biddy, my name is Susan E. Lancaster. I was born and brought up in England for the first 21 years of my life – and what a happy life it was. I was most fortunate in having wonderful parents and two super sisters.
One day, when we were all of 20 years old, a friend of mine, Sheila, joined me for lunch in Liverpool. The conversation was mainly about our work and our respective jobs. We both reached the conclusion that life in ‘old blighty’ was boring and we’d better think about doing something to kill the ennui and restlessness we felt before it was too late.
Within a week we had all the required documents in our hands to go to Canada, and we were booked on the Empress of France to sail on April 1st, 1960 to Quebec. What an adventure we’d lined up for ourselves.
We sailed to Canada as planned and arrived in Toronto on April 6th, all decked out in fur gloves, fur boots, fur hats, heavy coats and scarves. With half a dozen suitcases in tow, we made for the our hotel in 80 degrees of heat. There was not one speck of snow to be found anywhere.
The years rolled away for both of us and we are still in Canada, Sheila Briant in Toronto and myself living on Vancouver Island off the west coast of British Columbia.
I married a great guy just two years after arriving in the country. We have two boys and his parents came to live with us for thirteen years. Most of the time we also had a menagerie of dogs and cats. Life was total and utter mayhem most of the time.
Unfortunately, the marriage ended after 18 years and it was a very sad time for the entire family.
I spent several years on my own before meeting another great guy, Denis, my husband who has been kind enough to put up with me for twenty one years.
As mentioned, we live on beautiful Vancouver Island. Our companion is a dog called Rufus who tries his very best to keep some kind of orderly conduct around the place. Because he is part Lab and part Collie, his basic instinct ‘to herd’ is still there and he likes to make sure Denis, Susan and Rufus are all together.
In February 2009. I celebrated my 70th birthday and officially became an old biddy, with the whole of the rest of my life before me to do what I pleased.
I always wanted to do something for other people, either directly, or indirectly, so I decided to write this blog and hope that many, many people will get a daily dose of humour. I am sure you’ll get a chuckle from the posts because they are events/happenings/ stories/situations which we’ve all encountered time and time again.
I like:
Being honest and open with people and slightly wacky at times
Reading a variety of books
Designing and sewing clothes when I have the time.
Playing bridge
Writing: children’s books, booklets, blogs and a business book.
I like to be fairly well organized and in control of my life, but you would never guess if you saw my desk. I get stressed out if I know that order has collapsed.
I don’t like:
Dishonesty
Disorganization
Husbands who don’t come to bed on time
Beetroot
Bananas
No doubt, as postings progress, you will get to know me a little better, but if you need an answer to something in the meantime, let me know.
I will also be including some articles by guest bloggers which I hope you will enjoy.
Finally, I would like to dedicate this entire blog to the memory of a lady who had a wacky sense of humour (we used to have unannounced competitions to see who could out-abuse the other)! Here’s to Annette.
Don’t forget to check out the other blogs and websites, listed on the right hand side of the blog. If you would like to be a writer, then you should visit susanlancaster.blogspot.com
This all took place in very attractive nursing home amongst the hills of Wales, UK, where my mother spent the last ten years of her life. Unfortunately, I lived in Canada, and therefore didn’t see her as often as I would like to have seen her, because she was not only my mother, but my best friend. Let me tell you - I really needed her wisdom at times.
Mother was in her mid-to-late eighties when she started to describe other women as old biddies. In comparison, I’m a bit younger, but I’ve decided that the term old biddy suits me quite well. So be it.
Other than being an old biddy, my name is Susan E. Lancaster. I was born and brought up in England for the first 21 years of my life – and what a happy life it was. I was most fortunate in having wonderful parents and two super sisters.
One day, when we were all of 20 years old, a friend of mine, Sheila, joined me for lunch in Liverpool. The conversation was mainly about our work and our respective jobs. We both reached the conclusion that life in ‘old blighty’ was boring and we’d better think about doing something to kill the ennui and restlessness we felt before it was too late.
Within a week we had all the required documents in our hands to go to Canada, and we were booked on the Empress of France to sail on April 1st, 1960 to Quebec. What an adventure we’d lined up for ourselves.
We sailed to Canada as planned and arrived in Toronto on April 6th, all decked out in fur gloves, fur boots, fur hats, heavy coats and scarves. With half a dozen suitcases in tow, we made for the our hotel in 80 degrees of heat. There was not one speck of snow to be found anywhere.
The years rolled away for both of us and we are still in Canada, Sheila Briant in Toronto and myself living on Vancouver Island off the west coast of British Columbia.
I married a great guy just two years after arriving in the country. We have two boys and his parents came to live with us for thirteen years. Most of the time we also had a menagerie of dogs and cats. Life was total and utter mayhem most of the time.
Unfortunately, the marriage ended after 18 years and it was a very sad time for the entire family.
I spent several years on my own before meeting another great guy, Denis, my husband who has been kind enough to put up with me for twenty one years.
As mentioned, we live on beautiful Vancouver Island. Our companion is a dog called Rufus who tries his very best to keep some kind of orderly conduct around the place. Because he is part Lab and part Collie, his basic instinct ‘to herd’ is still there and he likes to make sure Denis, Susan and Rufus are all together.
In February 2009. I celebrated my 70th birthday and officially became an old biddy, with the whole of the rest of my life before me to do what I pleased.
I always wanted to do something for other people, either directly, or indirectly, so I decided to write this blog and hope that many, many people will get a daily dose of humour. I am sure you’ll get a chuckle from the posts because they are events/happenings/ stories/situations which we’ve all encountered time and time again.
I like:
Being honest and open with people and slightly wacky at times
Reading a variety of books
Designing and sewing clothes when I have the time.
Playing bridge
Writing: children’s books, booklets, blogs and a business book.
I like to be fairly well organized and in control of my life, but you would never guess if you saw my desk. I get stressed out if I know that order has collapsed.
I don’t like:
Dishonesty
Disorganization
Husbands who don’t come to bed on time
Beetroot
Bananas
No doubt, as postings progress, you will get to know me a little better, but if you need an answer to something in the meantime, let me know.
I will also be including some articles by guest bloggers which I hope you will enjoy.
Finally, I would like to dedicate this entire blog to the memory of a lady who had a wacky sense of humour (we used to have unannounced competitions to see who could out-abuse the other)! Here’s to Annette.
Don’t forget to check out the other blogs and websites, listed on the right hand side of the blog. If you would like to be a writer, then you should visit susanlancaster.blogspot.com
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