Early and end of life ...

Whilst a dwarf hamster was cremated to lay to rest on a patio; in a frost proof pot, two other young ones are growing up. Teething and deepening of a male purr, giving much joy to family members, in this sorrow. 

... A mixed bag ...

of much ... Literally and metaphorically... a weekend that witnessed the passing of a daughter’s dwarf hamster. The news that followed of the same daughter getting to be accepted for admission to do her Masters, part time. The digression from the initial thoughts on subjects to study at the next advanced level of her interest in the spectrum of Austism from her current vocation ... 

For me, in the rotten roots of a home that digressed from a palace, to a unimaginable scene of much. The layers peeling back like an onion, only the grit of determination and ruthlessness shows our attitude  change. The baggage that laden, in that aftermath giving the prediction of change I fathomed, finally becoming more in the fruitful times of change. The fruition of thoughts that seemed endless in circles. The physical attack now of the muddle from this aftermath. The struggle now seen, from that aftermath in the more swift removal, that is being sifted through. 

There is the stuff that takes a longer time ToDo ... I have pulled out the easy stuff to swiftly see some visual difference. This is an incentive to keep at it. I am now in countdown for a Mum sit time ... a sister postponed last years trip to spend time with my daughter. It now takes place in the forthcoming time. 

These times away in different homes of many kinds; gives more of a sense of how the life running layouts in the routes and routines of the home within. The home will function more lucidly. This in turn will give a more lucrative life, the feeling that there is progress. The downsize of hobbies, some of these interests pouring into the virtual world, instead.

Although I still cannot resist the feel of the certain aspects of the sewing world. The books though have flown out the door in a steady stream. We loved our books. I now not so interested, the scars of having too much around still sees them taking up space, which irritates me ... in a way beyond words.

The interesting fact of living very differently, post hoarding. This fact observed that happens. I have seen the gradually change in not bothered so much either, with that periodically perpetual items required in replacement on the shopping list of supplies to run a home. I do without, where it can be so. There is more of an ease in making do when it is only yourself. The moans of others is now silent in this home, if something is not in place! Though in this, that now sounds so ironic now. Especially to those that forgot a family lived here in that time of bombardment.

It was those who did not really know us as people, separate to the hoarder. One a daughter, who wanted to study through to the still sometimes elitism of advanced study. The boundaries of class and obstruction of others that is so rife throughout history, it is not really that long since women were able to do this ... my maternal Auntie went against her parents roots in this matter of the woman's place was at home, to obtain her degree ...

And the other, a wife and Mother to step back out to retain the individuality, instilled from my family, a supportive husband too. The travelling once adored, marred with apprehension. The type of vocation once, where social interaction is paramount. The gift in time, since my Sunday school, Brownie Guide days; re-establishment in  the mix of difference, in the foundations from this. The core of my skeleton too, in strong sports from this time. It gives me some glimmer of hope to know, despite some of the words said you cannot get to the past. This foundation of my own roots, is the strength instilled to bypass the long curving uphill struggles of the extra baggage in all forms, seen and not seen... for the continuation again on from these initial foundations ... on how I came to be; like we all are with our fundamental cradle to grave cycles of life. The very different and evolving eras in the many decades that pass in time .... that very special witness some of us get to see, in the passing millennia  too ...

The specially marked school photos of 1999 and 2000 ... part of the endless mirage of a mixed up life. I have been back in the different years, months, days past. The times not only mentally difficult, the times the bruises and injuries from mishaps outside delayed the progress in straightening out the home. The paperwork not only following a death, the muddle of the bill disintegration to get the finances straightened back out.

The perpetual clean, tidy of all aspects of life back in fundamental routines. The fact a husband mentioned this phenomenon of these routines I kept. This is something we realise after the effect, the way he deteriorated in those subtle declines we don't notice til after ... 

The begin to the end

of the dormant layers now. The twist of the past present future intertwined into a fundamental functional portal. 

The accumulation of the usual paraphernalia of family life as you live. The unusual quantities of life of a troubled soul. I am not in the mood to talk about certain elements. I have finally been able to access the areas lost in time. It is not for the faint hearted. A lot of time later, revisiting the immediate aftermath denied out of my control myself of passing on clothes, footwear which no longer fitted rotten feet. 

It has been an Autumn and Winter of removals in slow but steady proportions, whilst I live the life now too. The new trips to the North. A festive visit to a few National Trust properties, revisiting the past of Christmas in Regency and Georgian Times. The industrial revolution use of child labour and how they lived in a place near Wilmslow, Cheshire. A Welsh castle Winter visit meant another visit new already, having been to a Welsh Isle on a flying visit just in the Autumn ... taking in and absorbing all the places new, at long last, in the carry on of a once shared time in Wales. 

A cathedral too, in the historic city of Chester led to the conversations of inequalities, after witnessing in our pass by of a donation sign erected for us visitors passing through. The reminder in how it costs £5,500 per day to provide the daily running of this building.

The opulence of such religious buildings, before providing what these places mean and do for the surrounding communities... 

... this place followed a Mother, Daughter time on Boxing Day staying overnight in a plush setting nearby ... We had a decadent time simple in a scrumptious evening meal, a twinned bedded room with an alarm call for a daughter who is not the best in the mornings. 

We had breakfast consisting of much you find in these places. Which meant it was more like a brunch, before heading off into the historic boundaries of city walls that is many. This an example of how we value the history of towns and buildings in this country. The pointers of each settlements enticements of bringing people to spend in these places.

The continuation of all these new places visited finally visited last year. The interruption in shared travelling piecing together lost time. And in our own personal interest of capturing these pointers in experiences, with only the photos to share happy times again ...

There are no Postcards, books, bookmarks, pens or the usual collection of souvenirs from this trip... We have been fed up with the excesses of life in the usual removal progression from time not spent only in a few memory albums or boxes.

The time line too on the electronic systems, to last time I was a National Trust member. A reminder too of our travels in the year on from late 2017 will now be captured in the modern date stamp time we now live ... 

A fascinating way to acclimate to

the differing perspectives, the bewildering array in personalities of life and in many cultures too. The absorption in time in an hospital environment tending to needs of those in all disarray... 

I have had to adapt to those looking to me for answers, help and assistance. It is good when those patients are aware of our role as volunteers within the NHS. Within my role I assist the catering staff in serving the food. The different levels in tiers of swallowing problems vast and many It is hard to say to a patient on serving this food, a nurse will come and assist, when they are so short staffed. The trusting faces for answers and having to wait. The awareness of keeping in mind those most reliant on such help ... the very same nurses apologizing for pinching a biscuit out the kitchen stores, to keep up the energy levels. 

It is not over dramatic when we hear the newsworthy stories of looking after these staff. And not take the mickey on their shift times. It is a very demanding vocation ... 

And this a ward so different to the others, it is bigger, has no recycling bin, no dinner bell, where the mealtimes are not really able to be on protected times. The almost certainty the bedside curtains are drawn around the individual beds when the fluids and the food are being dispensed ... a certain amount of dignity for their awareness of us being in their private space... 

The amount of our apologies to the high turnover in the movement of patients in taking the food with them, or offering what is left to those who were not there on the menu order round... this is where the crockery and cutlery disappears too.

And the constant apologies on the patients part for making a mess or not drinking the beverage etc...

It is good to be getting established in the inner workings of life beyond the door at home. The transference in the rig marole of doing it all over again to get established in another place ....

though first to wind down a life of times here 

The jaunts of a July again in the locality ...

The delights of a walk amongst the green, gold, auburn and the purple under the blue skies and fluffier clouds one time in wisps and abundance ...

A pictorial time

still filtering through chronological... I came across some more popping up today while I took five! I will now put that to one side while we deal with some other bits and bobs in a time with more hands on deck. 

A time that was planned last summer while setting up a new home of a daughter's after student halls and homes. A daughter was to finally get to pass her driving test in her twenties, while I was staying with her. A driving test that was put on hold from the age in teens  I had passed. The strive to live in a hoarders environment that marred our life. 

My daughter will find it weird when I go out one day, while she stays awhile and sees me do my own thing in a professional public environment where we run or lay around in next to nothing, in a very personal care time ! 

My space invasion

for another type ... when the younger generation come back home awhile. You get used again not to trip over the paraphernalia of another, especially children! The long gone coats, shoes, toys making way into devices, The washing. And the gargantuan appetites of growing teenagers ... The finger prints ... the mess of usual life ... 

And that was before the clutter that came .... when life back tracked ... instead of moving forward and on ... the parallels of life that was ...then came ...