Wednesday, 9 January 2008

Up Close And Personal

Two of my favourite bloggers have tagged me recently, Wake Up And Smell The Coffee and Mopsa.

Mopsa's Meme asks for eight things I would like to happen in 2008. I am going to say straight away that I am not going to ask for world peace, an end to famine and pestilence, people to be kind to each other or any of that sort of stuff. It would all be very nice, but I have to be realistic.

Mainly my hopes for 2008 focus around home, family, health and happiness and to be honest, I'd pour all eight wishes into that. Selfish, I know, but we've had a tough time over the last few years in some ways, and frankly I feel my little clan deserves a break. So forgive me Mopsa, for being so introspective, but what I would really like to see is:

My son to get the recognition, support and respect he deserves.

My daughter and son in law to continue to enjoy their happiness.

My husband to realise that he doesn't have to hold the entire world on his shoulders and learn to relax.

Me to find a way to reach my personal writing goals.

OK, now for the rest of the world:

I'd really like to see Madeleine McCann returned safe and unharmed to her parents.

I'd like all the troops in Iraq to come home.

I'd like to see a change in attitude towards older people. Respect.

I'd like our Government to stop messing with people's lives and give professionals the opportunity to know best.

Oh-oh, watch out, I think I see pigs flying overhead.


Wakeup's Meme is to give seven previously undisclosed unusual facts about myself. I don't really think there's much you don't already know about me other than:

I once nicked a Bounty from our local newsagents (I was seven), tried to eat it but couldn't, guiltily threw it away, went back into the shop and put more than twice the original cost of the Bounty on the counter and ran out in tears. Odd girl. Still hate Bounties. Still have an over-developed sense of justice and fair play. Plus I was scared of being struck by lightning in retribution for a terrible sin.

Around the same age, I also dropped a toy car out of my bedroom window to scare my brother who was in the garden below, but instead of just hitting the ground beside him and making him jump, it embedded itself in his head. Blood everywhere. I blamed the boy next door, obviously. Well, it was his car before I "borrowed" it. Later I confessed to get him off the hook, burst into tears and ran off. again extremely worried about being struck by lightning.

The girl next door (whose brother's car I nicked) was horrible to me (I wonder why), so I carefully took the top off a bottle of milk which was on their doorstep and dropped a piece of fossilised cat poo into it and replaced the silver top. Later on I realised that this was an awful thing to do, ran round to confess, but they were all sitting there drinking cups of milky tea so I just burst into tears and ran off (see a pattern forming here?). At that point was convinced it was only a matter of time before the clouds parted and...... yes, you've guessed it. Kaboom.

When we left my childhood home I was eleven, leaving my best friend, every one of my relatives and all of the above fun and games behind and moved to Birmingham, and I was so lonely and unhappy I cried for two solid years (no kidding) but no one at home noticed. Or, so I thought, cared. By this time I think they were probably getting bored with the waterworks. It was such a terrible time, I think this was the lightning strike I'd feared for so long, and even now I could cry thinking about it.

In the 60's my friends and I used to wear mini-skirts so short they only just covered our knickers, but only if we didn't bend forward. We couldn't decently walk up the stairs at New Street Station and there often used to be a crowd of lads standing at the bottom of the steps, looking up and bumping into each other. But at least it taught me how to climb stairs or stand on the escalator sideways and block the rear view with my handbag. Unfortunately, these days I would need a much bigger bag.

In my 20's I did a bit of modelling (before you ask, it was the commercial type) and once modelled for a kitchen bin advert. Yes folks, it was my foot on that pedal and my hand on that lid. They didn't ever pay me or even give me a free bin. They must have thought I was rubbish.

And finally, I have over the years astounded many people with my slight psychic ability and fearsome ESP, but because of these "gifts" I regularly scare the shit out of myself before I really need to. No wonder I have high blood pressure.

But enough already, that's more than I've told anyone about myself, all in one go, ever. Without bursting into tears or running off, that is.


Norman said...

All that guilt and waiting for a lightning stike? Bet you were in the Church of Rome. All I can add to that is that whoever wrote the words of the "Dies Irae2 has a lot to answer for. Or is it the way Verdi's Requiem and all that drum banging putd the fear of god into us all?
BTW. Been there and done it all in my childhood too. P'raps I'll tell you about it someday.

Norman said...

Lousy t(r)yping. "Dies Irae2 should be "Dies Irae"
And ther's no such thing as a lightning stike. Try strike instead.
Deary deary me, I mus' be gett'n' old.

Swearing Mother said...

Getting old? Not you Norman, but your guess is quite near the mark. Sunday School had a lot (good and bad) to answer for!

Kaycie said...

I completely relate to being guilt ridden. But I'm Methodist, not Catholic. I think it has something to do with my mother . . .

laurie said...

you nicked a Bounty? and here i'm wondering why a little girl would nick a roll of paper towels.

and then i decided it must mean something different in England.

Swearing Mother said...

Kaycie, hi! I think most everything is to do with our mothers, so I am wondering what my kids are blaming me for. Hopefully, they'll never tell me!

Hello Laurie, yes, sorry, a Bounty is a bit like a Snickers bar, only coconut. If I'd had any sense I'd have nicked a bar of Cadbury's chocolate and then I would definitely have eaten it, guilt or no guilt.

Retiredandcrazy said...

My guilty secret is that I scrumped a tomato from a field when I was about 14. It must have recently been sprayed with something because I was violently sick. Another lesson learned! (learnt? my spelling is crap)

PS I'm not catholic either, although my mother was!

Swearing Mother said...

Retired and Crazy, me too! Naturally, like you, I would have thought that it was because the tomato was stolen that I was sick.

Permanent mindsets put in place at such an early age, don't you think? I have never been able to do anything illegal since. Darn it.

The Rotten Correspondent said...

You absolutely fascinate me and always have. That was a great list, and I sincerely hope that you've moved past the lightning and cloud parting retribution stage.

Your first four things you'd like this year rang so true. It's hard to obsess on the state of the world when your own hearth is unsettled.

Amy said...

The church certainly taught you about an eye for an eye. I love your attempts at retribution. And I'm giggling at the thought of your neighbors discovering the cat turd reconstituting itself in their milk. It's probably better for you that you felt so bad about it all, though.

Swearing Mother said...

Hi RC, though I'm not quite so worried about lightning, am always a bit scared of retribution. Doesn't stop me from doing naughty things though, luckily!

Hello Amy, you can always rely on me to feel bad about things, think I was born guilty!

Tina said...

Well, Sweary, a model! Ooh, get you - as you know we say in these parts.

But please don't run off & cry...

Lovely to hear more about you & I have to say, the way you write? I'd have guessed you a good 20 years younger.

Mopsa said...

You give great value for money SM.
Sounds like good (?) Catholic guilt to me. I just did good (?) Jewish tantrums.

merry weather said...

Loved that post! Funny how childhood trangressions can be so clear in mind and yet later stuff just gets deleted... or maybe that's only me!

You are so clearly a woman of great heart and strong spirit - do hope you can achieve some of your writing goals this year. Reading you makes me laugh and bite my lip at the same time - always a pleasure :)

Expatmum said...

You can pay for it now - that'll be three Hail Mary's and a marguerita!

Swearing Mother said...

Tina, hello bab. I didn't really want to own up to being ANCIENT but I'm a firm believer in carrying on regardless, depending on the way you feel (and,I suppose to a certain extent, look), rather than letting chronological age call the shots. Glad I don't sound too Golden Girl-esque.

Mopsa, you are spot on, but I think it was all inherited guilt from my Ma. Scary stuff. And what is it with that vicar with the smoking handbag at church? Always thought it smelt like Refreshers (trust me to be thinking about sweets, even at Mass). Oh blimey, I hear thunder, shouldn't have said that.

Hiya Merry! I have an infinite capacity for guilt, I think it was invented just for me. But I still do the things I shouldn't, just worry about it later.

Expatmum, you are SO right! I am always sorry for everything, all the time. It's a right pain, I can tell you.

Thanks for visting by the way, lovely to read you.

aims said...

Popped by for a quick look - and just cracked up. I'm sorry your traumatic childhood made me laugh so hard - but it did!

Did your parent's ever tell you what they thought was going on with you when you were young?

And now - do you have a lightning rod on the top of your house?

Loved your post - as you can probably tell...

Swearing Mother said...

Oh Aims, think they just thought I had an imagination "which went on cartwheels" - I've spent most of my life in some sort of panic, so they probably just thought it was me being me. And it probably is, in all honesty.

Lovely to read you again.

wakeupandsmellthecoffee said...

I laughed all the way through this post, or at least the bit about your seven facts. Cat poo in the milk! What a devious mind. I did similar stunts (though never the cat poo) but never owned up. So where's the lightening strike?

And I liked what you want for 2008. I hope it all happens.

Oh, and tell Laurie a bounty is the same as a Mounds chocolate bar.

Swearing Mother said...

Hiya Wakeup! A Mounds bar, is it? Wasn't sure if you guy had the equivalent of a Bounty, apart from paper products of course.

Glad you liked the post, thanks for visiting.

Maggie May said...

I'm new to blogging and while looking to see if there were any older folk out there, stumbled across your blog. Reading your posts has been a great inspiration for me!

Swearing Mother said...

Maggie May, welcome! Yes, there are loads of older people blogging, but don't worry about your age, just be you!

Looking forward to visiting yours.

Valleys Mam said...

I put Domestos on a neighbours flowers -she was a mean and nasty woman.
I also cellotaped a jackie jumper to another ones door knocker - that was fun.
I think my best was taking the "ladies toilet" sign for the park where my school was loacted and puting it outside the headmistresses door.She was a miserable old toad who was so nsty to anyone over 5ft5 and slim,and I ws in those days.

Swearing Mother said...

Valleys Mam, you sound so cool and naughty. We would have been mates at school no doubt, and spent a lot of our time outside the headmistress's office or on detention.