Rubbish.
I am decorating the house .. in painting terms .. all day. It is really, really cold and there is still snow out in the old farm yard although it has melted everywhere else in the world. It's the Christmas artificial deadline going on again. I am totally decorating my middle daughter's new bedroom which is not only .. as I see now it is finally empty .. huge but my husband casually ripped off miles of wallpaper from a tiny hanging bit. 'Hmm .. I think there may be a blocked drainpipe just outside here'. 'You annoying, stupid f.ck', I screamed, coming into the room just too late. Chunks of plaster had been ripped off as well and the whole thing would now need an expert to make it look normal again. Especially for an anally neat daughter. Or maybe not ....

During my weekly lift to the supermarket we swooped in a loop formation to the massive Ra1nb0w Superst0re on the bypass. It is an endless aircraft h@ngar-type place selling everything that has ever existed .. so I was able to buy lin1ng paper and paste ... and many other wonders. Including some ludicrously cheap gold (probably not real) vases for Christmas arrangements and pointless balls covered in chips of black shell .. just to have.

And papered over the crumbling wall in an inefficient but adequate way and as the whole place is lumpy and wavy anyway you can't tell .. and painted over it and it is all fine. Who needs an expert plasterer at vast expense? I don't. And there aren't any at short notice. The only problem now is that much crap from the room is piled in all other adjacent rooms .. horribly. In spite of there being THIRTY black rubbish bags of rat ruined or otherwise really unwanted however sentimental you are stuff piled out in the garden. (From this one room).

Having gone on and ON about my ludicrous hoarding, my husband then began picking oddments out of the bags saying it was a shame to throw THIS (or this) away as 'someone' might want it. A mini Pooh book .. lightly stained .. from a set of ten and a hairline cracked well1ngton boot were a couple of the treasures he held up with a sad face at my wastefulness. Then drove off after instructing me to 'arrange' for the bags to be removed. 'HOW?', I replied in not-modulated tones. 'Well ring up our neighbour - she probably knows how to contact the rubbish truck driver and you could just give him ten pounds'. This is not London. Everything here is far away and down long treacherous drives and tracks. No one driving a massive truck and in their right mind would come down to our house for ten pounds. Or at all.

And there is no way to contact a random driver personally as we found during the four years we had no rubbish collection due to his oversight and had to DRIVE all our rubbish in a normal car to the recycling plant five miles away. Involving a row of varying proportions each week as they checked our 'mixed waste' for its recycling usefulness. 'We don't accept that here .. you'll have to take it back .. and are all those cans washed?' were familiar screaming triggers. I tried to always go with my neighbour .. also collectionless .. as she had a very scary, low, cold tone when questioned about her bags and the 'operatives' would ooze away at the sight of her. My husband, however, brought out their sadistic side .. 'Let's get the p0nce', I imagined them saying as they emerged from their caravan, en masse. They once made him unpack a whole vile kitchen bag saying that they had heard the chink of an unseparated tin somewhere inside.

My neighbour agreed that there was no chance of contacting the truck driver and he collected at wildly random times so I couldn't wait up by the road. Later .. on a whim .. I searched on-line for the name of the council cl3ans1ng dept. and there it was and on their site was a name to click on if you had rubbish collection queries. And then there was an e-mail address .. to which I sent one asking if they could pick up 30 extra bags next week .. and a couple of hours later was a reply .. saying 'Yes'. Errr ... well .. I am ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that I couldn't have done that four years ago and reminded them that they were missing out part of their round. CERTAIN. And I still have to get the bags up to the gate somehow. So it is NOT that easy.
- posted by Iris @ 11/30/2005 11:13:00 PM (0) comments comment

 
Happy.
I was just watching a programme that looked incredibly boring and then wasn't. It was about trying to raise the overall level of happiness in one of the dullest towns in Br1tain - Sl0ugh - by sending out volunteers, giving talks and arranging various mass 'happenings'. They had found that the happiness level in parts of Br1tain was lower than in rural Ch1na.

One of the 'experts' studied the local secondary school and found that the children were mostly anxious and stressed and had insanely dreary plans for their own futures. With making money the top goal and any idea of fun or happiness in their careers never considered. He said that it had been proved that people in rich economies were not made any happier by having piles of stuff and rising to higher standards of living .. once your original was quite high anyway .. also had NO higher percentage points of happiness. I could have told him that.

They decided that the main thing was to have a loving relationship with your family and friends. Hmmm ... Possibly. I have an exceptionally close relationship with my children .. who are also my friends. But I don't especially care about any actual friends .. however old they are ... I can't think of one who I would mind about if I was told I would never see them again. Perhaps that means I am REALLY WEIRD? I love meeting new people and finding out everything about them as if I were reading a book. But sooner or later they start to seem a bit repetitive and samey and by then I am just as happy to talk to someone else. I think it is partly because - as I am shy - I can only say what is uppermost in my mind and so have 'deep' conversations with everyone and don't save all my secret thoughts for a tiny close group. I am just as likely to moan about my husband to the man rebuilding the roof as to bother to go and ring up some childhood friend to discuss the same thing.

I have found that happiness comes from having control over your own life and not having to be sycophantic to anyone. All the older women I know who are noticeably happy have their own money .. from whatever source .. and the most miserable are dependent on their husbands for everything.

Actually, I am boring myself here ...
- posted by Iris @ 11/29/2005 11:10:00 PM (0) comments comment

 
Weather.
I woke up early this morning and was staring vaguely at the grey-looking window thinking, 'Ah .. foggy again .. thank god I don't have to go anywhere' when my eyes re-focussed. There is a f.cking BLIZZARD going on. WHAT? The last time it snowed in November was ... never.

When I looked out there was the most snow I have ever seen here fallen at one time .. more than six inches. The forecast last night having predicted snow in the north and down the OTHER side of the country. AND ... comme d'habitude .. my older daughter left 24 hours ago after three weeks of being here practically constantly. Now I expect the power will go off and I will be ALL ALONE in the cold and dark. No one can get down our drive in this .. or even along the 'top road' probably, which is very steep. Arse. I am not mentally prepared .. it should still be brisk windy weather with bright frosty mornings. Where you joke with the postman , 'Pretty nippy out today, har, har'. etc...

OMG! I just glanced down the valley and the sun has come out over the woods and it is unbelievably beautiful. All the trees are edged in silver and .. oh for a camera ... not only was there a magpie (black and white bird) perched on the barn roof but on the ground below were two black and white cats playing in the snow. Of course in an actual photograph it would look grey and fuzzy with black and white dots .. so it will rest forever only in my mind.

The weather does not affect my plans which are to drag on with dull 'home improvements' as it is that time of year. Invariably we do nothing right through until October when somehow the thought of Chri1stmas makes the crap state of the house more apparent. I can't imagine December without my romantic mincepie-making being accompanied by the sound of hammering and the merry shouts of builders. This time a huge painting blitz is meant to be supplemented by one end of the roof being waterproofed so that we can use a large bedroom again. It is my middle daughter's main present - that this room, once hers until water started pouring in .. err .. four years ago - should be restored to a palace-like state. A teeny drawback is that in that time all temporarily unwanted stuff from London has been driven down and dumped into its handy emptiness plus any crap that anyone couldn't bear to throw away and various bits of furniture and some mattresses. And many boxes of files and exercise books from many schools and universities. And bags and bags of clothes. The room is completely full.

But .. as each cloud has a silver lining .. also in these intervening years rats have found their way in through the wall. Which we discovered on moving some of the lower strata of bags. So vast amounts of the unthrowawayable stuff is chewed and worse and totally trashed. Phew! So my daughter has been staying here and we just threw many bags and boxes out of the window unopened (wearing plastic gloves) where they are now mercifully covered by an attractive blanket of snow. My only rule was that anything with a face .. even if slightly tainted by rat ur1ne .. was to be saved into another saga of bags. Could YOU throw a blue furry rabbit out of the window to be carted away? I don't think so ...

Anyway the painting blitz is actually being carried out by me - on my own - as the workmen are mysteriously not answering their phone and have not turned up at all. So I will be painting the staircase all day in the ice and snow. Having yesterday started on bits of the drawingroom with special 18thc.-type paints chosen with vast care from the chart to match what is already there. Da DAH! They all looked a totally different colour and ridiculous when on the wall etc. I can hear a faint screaming noise .. oh .. it is me. Well .. at least the staircase paint is white .. or its subtly different 18thc. form .. so f.ck it .. I am using it no matter what. The cats are hovering ready to spring onto the wet paint and than run hysterically all over the wooden floor of the hall but at least I KNOW that will happen. It is the unexpected possibilities of more bizarro weather and even more unauthentic paint colours that keep me on my toes today.
- posted by Iris @ 11/25/2005 08:26:00 AM (7) comments comment

 
Mean.
I am trying to find small stuff for the children's stock1ngs by going round all the sites I looked at last year ... but everything still seems to be exactly the same. Also - strangely - crapper and stupider (and not in a good way). I am feeling mean and low and it is now ludicrously cold, inside and out. It is ridiculous to have to wear a hat and scarf in your own bedroom for f.ck's sake. It is predicted to be the coldest winter for decades or some rubbish ... or so I thought. 'As they are incapable of telling you the right weather even five days ahead, how could they possibly know about two months' time?' I argued cleverly a week or so ago. And then it suddenly got unbelievably, farcically freezing. There is thick frost every night which never really melts and I have to take boiling water out to the barn cats' dishes twice a day. Although down in the town it is probably still 'uneasonably warm'.

Weirdly ... my older daughter and her boyfriend drove to the nearestish coast at the weekend on a sunny but still (here) frosty day and spent all afternoon SURF1NG. 'Are you insane?' I said when they came back but 'It is fine as long as you keep your vital organs warm' ... apparently. And the beach was packed.

My son has gone to segurB* on a un1versity trip. 'F.cking typical', he said, 'Last year they went to M@dr1d'. 'Well, it's not so bad', I said 'As it's not somewhere you would ever bother to go by yourself'. 'Oh. I don't know', said my husband, 'there are some wonderful mus3ums there and a marvellous Engl1sh t3ashop'. My son caught my eye, 'Fantastic!', he said bitterly. Practically all I know about Belg1um is that they drink l1ght beer and eat w@ffles all the time .. so he promised to sample these delights. Also the setting for one of my favourite films 'La Kerm3sse H3ro1que' a tiny gem made in about 1930, which has come out again on DVD. Really sweet and funny about the Span1sh army marching through Belg1um in the s1xteenth century. Sounds incredibly boring I know ... but it isn't. I made my son watch it and he really liked it ... so ..

Also .. two Belg1an heros of our time: J0hnny H@lliday and .. as mentioned a few days earlier oddly .. Plast1c Bertr@nd. And T1nt1n?

Belg1um is the joke country of Europe. Dull beyond belief. As W@les is in British terms.
- posted by Iris @ 11/23/2005 10:21:00 PM (0) comments comment

 
Beyond.
This is beyond something. ANOTHER of my children's friends has died. Not only are they an old friend ofmy son's but also the only child of one of my own oldest friends. Who I first met when I was 17. He died in his sleep while on a univers1ty field trip on a Sc0ttish island and all they could think of was that he must have hit his head rock climbing during the day as he was quite normal all through the evening. I don't know what to say. WHAT? How CAN so many people I know die? Please feel free to tell me what you think?
- posted by Iris @ 11/18/2005 11:07:00 PM (0) comments comment

 
Film.
I just realised that if you ever wanted to see what 'my' countryside is like ... the film 'L@ndgirls' was shot all round here. One of the scenes is set in the high street of the very town where I went shopping today. I think it is some kind of vict0ry parade and they are standing on the steps of the tiny town hall. It is unusual because it has two lots of steps meeting at a small, railed, first floor balcony. My son was going to have a day off school and be in the crowd but they wouldn't let him. So it must be about ten years old .. I'm sure the DVD still exists though.
- posted by Iris @ 11/16/2005 12:13:00 AM (0) comments comment

 
Stuck.
This morning I was all dressed and normal looking ready for my lift to the shops to arrive when a large white van drew up. There are only three different parcel services around here and I do vast amounts of internet sh0pping so the drivers are all familiar to me. This was the older, nervous one. After a minute he knocked on the door again, 'Err ... I think I've got the van stuck. You've put your car in a new place and it threw me off .. turning'. For F.cks sake I said inside my head. He had driven past the stones of the yard into some distant quagmire and ... was stuck.

'So what do you normally do under these circumstances', I said. He looked vague. 'Do you ring your office and they send someone out to help you?' 'Oh no ... there would be no point in doing that. No one would ever find me out here'. '????? ... '. 'I was thinking that when it happened once before a tractor towed me out. But of course that was somewhere else ... '. 'Well, okay, by chance my neighbour is about to come round so I'll ring her'. She is the queen of the district in terms of knowing all and everyone and was soon at work .. and finally rang back saying my nearest farmer was revving up his tractor as we spoke. 'So .. when he comes .. as he is doing you a HUGE FAVOUR .. are you going to pay him?' A shocked look crossed his moronic features, 'No, no my dear. I never carry money when I am out'. 'WTF?'

It was so weird. He stood there as if his van full of parcels being bogged down to the axles immoveably was somehow nothing to do with him. And something magic would happen to make it all all right. And it did. As I found him a farmer; spoke to the farmer; helped the farmer .. and soon his van was standing safely on the cobbles of the yard facing towards freedom. So he drove off with a terse thank you .. having not paid the farmer in any way .. and probably instantly forgot all about it. ( On our way shopping quite some time later we came up behind him wending his way along an incredibly narrow lane which was the most circular possible route to the next town .. normally easily reached by turning left out of our drive onto the straight road.)

'I'm feeling really bad about the farmer', I said to my neighbour. 'I want to pay him but it seems somehow too embarrassing'. 'No, no, dear. You couldn't possibly PAY him.' 'Well, what about a bottle of whisky?' 'No dear. His mother doesn't allow him to have drink in the house'. 'What the f.ck .. he must be forty-five. And I thought they had the farmhouse divided into two separate bits'. 'Yes, but she still has the connecting door and he is not allowed to lock it'. 'So is there anything he IS allowed?' 'Well, he's a great one for liquorice allsorts AND the shops have just got in the huge boxes ready for Christmas. Don't worry yourself .. when we get there I'll pick some out for you'. 'Perfect .. and get as many as you think makes up for the whisky'.

She reappeared at the car with four massive boxes and then, having me trapped, drove straight to the farm and made me go in with her. There is a strict class hierarchy here and ... although knowing the farmer and his common law wife (the only time he stood up to his mother was when he moved her in) quite well from chatting in the fields ... I had never been inside their house. After evading his mother, who sprang casually out of her door as we passed and feigned surprise to find us on the path, we entered a real old fashioned kitchen. Boiling hot and filled with everything you could ever want to use as if the rest of the pretty large house didn't exist. Including more cats than I have ever seen in one room before. 'Well, she can't have children you see', my neighbour said afterwards, 'So she thought Sod it I'm going to have as many cats as I like'. The sweets were accepted graciously and I was turning to go as I felt a bit out of place and possibly intrusive as there was a strong smell of boiling cabbage and it was obviously lunch-time. But no ... the three of them had leapt into the most intensive gossip. Interrupting each other and screaming with laughter about various people in the village .. who I hate to say I had never heard of. A very long time passed with me smiling a lot and nodding. And after a bit the uncomfortable feeling passed and was replaced by intense cosiness. How restful to be there with no expectation that you should be amusing or say anything clever or show that you had done something upper class lately or that you were dressed 'suitably' for what ever was happening at that moment. The working class country people here are still a million miles removed from modern life. It could easily be fifty years ago. How would it be to spend more time with them?

They wouldn't know what I was talking about, mostly, as they live in their own world of farming and country things. And although they obviously have radios and tvs they seem to watch totally different programmes from me .. at least that's what I gather from my lift-giving neighbour. We had a peculiar moment once because she had never heard of the term 'personal trainer' and couldn't grasp the concept. They never read books or even seem to listen much to music. My neighbour relaxes by listening to cds of birdsong. So I suppose it would be hopeless and fake and I don't want to be with people specially anyway. But it was nice and odd to observe them .. so bonded and friendly and 'there for each other'.

Ah .. it is truly another world. And right on my own doorstep.
- posted by Iris @ 11/15/2005 11:11:00 PM (0) comments comment

 
Post.
I did finish off the Hallow3en post but left it chronologically ... so it is at Nov. 5th. Well I am not forcing this stuff out .. however boring it may be ... and then no one even sees it.

I am going to tell you two cd singles which I have on repeat all the time at the moment .. and then you can see how different our musical tastes are. Neither of these people are specially famous here although have had T0p 20 hits.

bbuK*. 'W1cked S0ul'. Which is new.

Tyl3r J@m3s. 'F00lish'. A year or so old.

I usually like crashy sort of rock music or shouty stuff like 'Offspr1ng'. But it gets a bit tiring in the background all the time. Also a strange weakness for B3bel G1lberto. And Plast1c B3rtr@nd. And, especially, The D@rkness ... 'L0ve on the R0cks' ... perfect.

Maybe I will write more about this.
- posted by Iris @ 11/15/2005 09:26:00 AM (0) comments comment

 
Curse.
Right .. a dull, not depressing, post out of the way .. and .. back to sad stuff. Not really sad, exactly, but seems as if it should be. I was talking by e-mail to an old friend who lives abroad and I never see .. and thinking about how we met and our lives then.

How things have changed. Changed so much that I suddenly wondered if I was the victim of a w1tch's curse. It would explain everything. Twenty years ago ... if I had angered a withered crone in flowing black robes and she had screamed at me that 'It will come to pass that .. etc. etc. ... 'describing my present life now, I would have first been really upset and then thought 'Crap .. as if'.

Twenty years ago . I was happy and confident. I was not only the dominant person in my marriage but a divorced friend of ours had moved in with us 'just while I sort myself out' and never left. I dominated him as well and the two of them treated me like some superior being .. I promise. I had attractive small children who weren't a bore at all because I had STAFF .. well .. living in nanny, daily cleaner, someone to drive them to and from school and TWO gardeners. So I had no particular domestic duties and spent my days reading and pottering and chatting and making myself look attractive. I had a huge group of friends who all liked me better than my husband and people often fell in love with me and hung about. Although my mother had just died I was very close, mentally, to my father, possibly more than anyone in the world. I also wrote articles and book reviews for magazines and was treated with a certain amount of respect because of this.

We entertained constantly and had people to stay all the time and had wild parties, for which we were famous. I also went to London whenever I liked and gave huge wild parties there and lived in a 'social whirl'. (My life hadn't always been like this, of course, I had had all sorts of loneliness and pennilessness and dreariness at various times but I am thinking of the years when I first met the friend.) Lots of people were jealous of me around then and, I think, felt that I 'had it all' and it's true that I was a bit arrogant and careless.

So I could easily have offended a witch ... without realising.

I can imagine her standing there, pointing at me and sneering. 'All that you now see will drift away like mist. By the twentieth year after this day you will be gone from this place never to return .. all the friendship which surrounds you will have changed to hatred and resentment. You will be totally alone. Your HUSBAND will now live in the literary world amongst constant companionship and laughter and he will despise you and no longer care for you. Your male companion who swore he would live in your house for ever will have married for the SECOND time since he left you and will no longer wish to speak to you. Your beloved father will have withered under the influence of HIS new wife and you will eventually have ceased all communication and he will be dead to you.

You will have lost all confidence and will be beautiful no more. You will have no desire to write and so will have also lost the respect engendered by that. You will live as a recluse and see no one ... until the end of time.'

Spooky. I would have laughed. Not for one millisecond would I have accepted that ANY of that was going to happen. And then it ALL DID.
- posted by Iris @ 11/14/2005 10:49:00 PM (0) comments comment

 
Preparations.
I seem to be writing these downbeat things but I am not actually unhappy in the least, even though I am already rousing at 3.oo am. worrying about Chr1stmas presents. Did you know that it is already 'St1r Up Sunday' this coming weekend? For once I was determined to finally get hold of a r0und pudding m0uld as used in the best Victorian households. But the stirring day is now really, really close and when I did find the mould on-line there was no choice of express delivery. Will it arrive in time? The Christmassy stress is starting to build. I used to have a badge which said 'When all else fails - lower your standards' which I wore often until my daughter pinned it on her school uniform and it was confiscated. 'Don't you realise that this sentiment goes against the entire ethos of our school?' the teacher screamed at her, spittily. And when she asked for it back they pretended they had lost it. I loved that badge.

But I can't lower my standards at Christmas because we are all just used to it being a certain way and it would be sad if it wasn't. 'I'm never doing Christmas even when I'm married', said my younger daughter. 'We'll all carry on coming to you'. This was a combination of compliment for my lavish and charming seasonal arrangements and the sensible backing off from ever wanting to look and sound like I do right up until midnight on Christmas Eve. I was thinking about squid and her favourite book being 'A L1ttle Pr1ncess' because it was exactly that kind of book that set me off on this path. My mother made massive efforts at Christmas too but I managed to take it up many more notches as she wasn't drawn to the V1ctorian side of it like I am. (I think she may even have BOUGHT her mincemeat).

I said in passing to my older daughter that there wasn't any new music that I particularly liked so buying stuff for Christmas was being difficult. 'What are you talking about', she replied. And I realised that normally I do everything for Christmas totally alone and that no one has ever noticed that the reason things go quite well and it is fun is because I provide little things all the time to move the mood along. Just like a bag of tiny toys for babies on a long car journey. I am not moaning here but that is partly why it IS such an effort and takes so much thought. I buy new cds to play for the first time when things are a bit boring and new DVDs for empty evenings and at least one game for Christmas night and some childish things that pass the time stupidly. Last year they spent hours making birds from a really low-level origami book and messing about on the home assembly go-c@rt. And piles of cheerful cooking stuff like weird edible decorations and odd shaped cutters. Treating grown-up children like ten year olds at Christmas always works.

The whole run-up seems to swing wildly from enjoying it in a romantic way to screaming inside my head. And then every year it ends up being almost exactly the same. 'But where's your video camera?, I said to my younger daughter who is always in charge of this. 'Look, there's no point. I was forwarding through the last few Christmas films and you can't tell them apart .. it's like watching one on repeat .. I can't be bothered to do it anymore'. So 2004 was missed out. But that isn't happening again .. the pleasure IS in the details ..even if one of them is always me teetering past with something red hot screaming 'Don't point that f.cking thing at me'.
- posted by Iris @ 11/14/2005 09:58:00 PM (0) comments comment

 
Again.
I had half-written a post about Hall0ween when someone drove up and it is resting somewhere and I can't remember what I was going to say.

So until I sort it out I will continue with the suicide-type theme. As ANOTHER of the children's friends has d1ed. I know I have mentioned before about the really weirdly large number of our friends and acquaintances who have d1ed young ... and now it has happened again. What is an average number of dead pe0ple to know? I can't believe that at least thirty, in my case, (all of whom I would be glad to ask to a party and all gone while still middle-aged at the oldest), is normal. While my three children between them can count at least twelve and there are probably a few more ... that is definitely unusual.

I can only think that we have a vast acquaintance due to many different large schools attended; universities; a range of jobs; a range of boyfriends etc. with big groups of friends and from living in various parts of the country with local social lives.

In the children's case the causes of d3ath were random and had no sort of pattern. From congenital illness to out-of-the-blue illness. Falling off a high wall; falling off a low wall; train crash; car crash; bus crash; drowning; drug overd0se; p3anut allergy; sk1ing accident; and the strangest (and the youngest) slipping over on a coral r3ef and being stabb3d through the h3art by a sp1ke.

This was another car cr@sh and they were all completely drunk so the dr1ver .. another friend .. will go to pr1son.

When they were younger I encouraged them to make our flat into the main 'hanging out' place. Their part of it is on an upstairs floor with its own front door onto the communal staircase so it wasn't that annoying for me and I REALLY wanted to feel that they were as safe as I could make it. Their friends couldn't believe that I didn't mind them smoking d0pe in my house as all their parents freaked at any mention of 'drugs'. But, as I said many times, when I was young not one person d1ed from smoking while quite a few d1ed from being drunk. And that still seems to be the case .. the one overd0se had many other factors - including - being drunk.

Well ... it is all very sad .. but the children seem fairly resilient and each time are incredibly upset for a week, then vaguely sad for another week and then it seems to drift away into the past. While I still regularly think about many of my dead fr1ends .. especially when I am making up a list for a party.
- posted by Iris @ 11/13/2005 10:45:00 PM (0) comments comment

 
Future?
I can't be bothered to go back and look but I am pretty sure that I have spent the last few Hall0weens on my own. This time, however, by total chance, my older daughter and her boyfriend were staying for the weekend. I must have said before but for years we used to have a huge party on the nearest weekend to Hall0ween because it was exactly in between two of the children's birthdays. We went to more trouble than for Christmas with endless boxes of scary decorations brought out and traditional recipes for disgusting-looking cakes etc. dusted off. We also had a massive bonfire and f1rew0rk display added in as yuG sekwaF* Day was the next week.

This was all possible while the children lived at home but now they are at Un1. or have serious jobs and .. for the last few years as I said ... NO ONE has happened to be here on the right day. All my pumpk1n carving skills and expertise with glowing green 1cing gone to waste. To say nothing of my bat encrusted g0blet .. only EVER drunk from on Hall0ween .. mouldering on a high shelf.

Until this year. Okay .. there were only three of us but who cares. I can go to a ridiculously vast amount of trouble anyway .. so I did. The pumpk1n soup with chi11is; the strange 'many unamed meats' casserole with much red w1ne' and then pumpk1n pie. (It tastes TOTALLY different from the soup .. so take that look off your face). The many spooky decorations and twiggy arrangements entwined with ivy and vines and background 'w1tchy' music.

And as the new boyfriend had never indulged in any of this before we (or they) amused themselves by making 'g1ngerbread husbands' and 'wives' where you form a facsimile of your intended and bake it and eat it. To ensure that you DO eventually get married. The g1ngerbread .. from an old, witchy recipe .. has a lot of black treacle in it so ensuring that any future relations will be part of the melting pot. Going by what came out of the oven my son- in -law will be Elv1s's love child ..... cool .. They also peeled apples in one long peel and threw them over their shoulders. This gives you the initial of your future marriage partner. My daughter's seemed to be hyphenated and possibly Japanese, while her boyfriend's came out as HER initial ... hmmm.

We then played 'sp1n the kn1fe' in sinister candle light with a sinister antique knife. This is an old family game we used to play at tea -time a lot when the children were young. You know .. you ask it a question and spin it and whoever the blade points to is 'the one'. The boyfriend seemed to take it rather seriously and actually looked upset when the knife stopped at my daughter after she had asked who was going to die first. (These were spooky Hallow3en questions). I had amusingly placed a massive teddy bear dressed in pointed hat and cloak in the chair by the fire .. in the flickering shadows he looked not unlike G@ndalf .. and every time there was a particularly scary question the blade would stop pointing across the room at him. He was the one that the dev1l had chosen to inhabit that night apparently.

We then read the Tar0t for each other using cards that were a copy of some from mediaeval France with a specially nasty D3ath card. I had never done this much before but the 'W1tches B1ble' had an easy explanation. Strange. The children's layouts both turned up the card they had chosen as 'themselves' (in each other's one) as the main influence on their actions at this period in their lives. More than a coincidence I think. I was very impressed with my turn . We were doing the more complex cross layout with the cards face down .. and when I turned up the card representing my motivating force ... it was the blank card put in at the end of the pack. Which had been shuffled in by accident ... or had it? How accurate is that?

In spite of much begging I refused to read the spell which calls up the D3v1l. I wrote before about how some years ago I DID read it but at the last minute left out a line out of weediness .. so he never appeared. This time it was impossible anyway as I couldn't find the book. Then the next morning when I was putting the other books back .. it was right in the middle of the shelf and huge and obvious .. so that was weird.

Anyway I had a really good time and the boyfriend was thrilled .. he had never even carved a pumpkin before let alone any of the rest of it. As my daughter said 'Imagine .. when he has children they are going to have wonderful Hallow3ens - just because he once met you'. Well .. yes .. actually.
- posted by Iris @ 11/05/2005 09:30:00 AM (0) comments comment