wendy house

Mumsie helped with my wedding outfit decisions. What goes with my fabulous new Royal Stewart tartan kilt:

• Sox or stockings? Stockings – Mumsie didn’t think it was good form to reveal my bare knees to strangers. I take after Dad in the knee department, he once won a nobbly-knees contest
• Red or Black stockings? Black stockings – Mumsie felt it would be ok to wear black to a wedding nowadays. The colour is no longer reserved for mourning.  Several wedding guests were dressed completely in black. Tiger, who was actually in mourning wore a black shirt. One guest wore a white lace dress, risking a clash with the Bride’s outfit
• Red or Black shoes? Red shoes – Celebratory flatties for lots of jigging on the post-vows disco dancefloor
• White or Black shirt? White shirt
  
• Leather or velvet jacket? Leather jacket
  
• Hat or no hat – No hat!!!!!!  No-one at the wedding wore a hat.  4 women were sporting fascinators at the ceremony, but no hats or tiarras. A trend that’s changed dramatically in my wedding-going career

How did Tiger get that particular online psuedonym?

From a ‘pet’ name I gave him at high school and this William Blake poem which sings of his mysterious, creative and beautiful being

Tiger and I tried out the informalness of his patienthood

We asked the nurse if we could leave the hospital for a cup of tea in a local cafe.  The nurse described several places we could go, gave us directions, made sure Tiger had the ward’s phone number and then unlocked each of the 3 sets of doors to let us out. The nurse couldn’t have been more supportive, it was wonderful

Once outside Tiger held my arm. The Co-operative funeral care service across the road  made me smile – for all your funerial needs,  on the hospital doorstep

Tea and honey in a small atmospheric, indenpendent, cafe was all very pleasant.  Tiger was also very pleasant company, albeit with the aid of antidepressant and antipsychotic drugs

5 days after arriving at the Maudsley Tiger was discharged into community care. He happily moved back to his peaceful home and has started coding again…

As a child, I remember falling in love with Richard Dadd’s “The fairy fellers’ master stroke“‘ when I first saw it, in the Tate gallery. I went on to read about Richard’s exceptional and tragic life. When studying for my psychology degree I recognised some of his paintings on the covers of books about mental health

Richard Dadd stayed in the hospital that is now known as the Maudsley hospital. It’s probably the oldest (1247) psychiatric hospital in the world!

Tiger is now an ‘informal‘ patient here. Informal means that theoretically he consents to being there – he can leave. He believes that he would be sectioned if he tried to leave. I’d be scared if he didn”t have 24hr  professional care nearby

The ACCU (Adult Critical Care Unit) was full of Beeping, flashing, colourful, dynamic machines. Gadget heaven. The nurses were all very modest about their ability to read and use these fancy computers.

This is Tiger’s very own beep-beep machine. The yellow light at the top-right changes colour from green through yellow and finally to red when any of the meters plugged into Tiger measure something out of acceptable ranges. As we watched the beep-beep machine Tiger gradually learned how to make his vital signs move from yellow to green. Awesome!

The nurses could gather an impression of the patients status just by listening to the beeps. They could tell which machine, patient, from the direction of the sound and quickly check the lights and displays visually for confirmation. All very imrpessive

Unfortunately the noise keeps Tiger awake… and the songs of all the machines on the ward are sending Tiger messages. He thinks they are saying more, and more sinister, things than patients vital signs

I found the noise rather hypnotic, strangely calming. It was easy to imagine professional dancers swirling and leaping through the isles, coordinating their movements to the beep-beeps. My imagination is more kind to me than Tiger’s is to him

In the ACCU (Adult Critical Care Unit) I found Tiger with 3 identity label tags on his wrists

Two wristbands were identical and accurately stated his name and date of birth. He’s the same person 2 times. Split personality?  The other wristband was placed on him when he arrived, when he was unconscious and alone – they didn’t know who he was. This wristband had his date of birth as 1st January 1900 and named him after the mouth of a river – Delta

Looks like Tiger has a 3 way split personality and is looking good for being 112 years old

And Tiger’s been treating me!

Tiger is a brightly burning star, in his life he has founded and managed successful businesses. He’s successfully sold some businesses and struggled tirelessly while one went bust. He’s been a millionaire, then lived on welfare. Tiger is always busy with something. This weekend Tiger arranged Oysters, Champaigne, London at night and an Alistair Crowley Tarot card reading to look at the spiritiual influences on the 48th year of my life:

• Past: the Nine of Wands shows strength, determination and discipline
• Now: the Hierophant represents the search for knowledge and illumination, the desire to study creed and dogma instead of simply accepting them, to research and achieve further development. It also stands for the deep fulfillment someone can find when really trusting their own beliefs.
• Future:  The Eight of Cups tells us to abandon the past, leave the current situation, make up our minds most honestly and open our eyes to upcoming changes

Happy New Chinese Year of the Rabbit!

Mumsie bought this card in Hong Kong, in 1990, as a pressie for me. Before then I was completely oblivious to the fact that I was born in the Year of the Rabbit (1963).  This year is also the year of the Rabbit. Evidently this is very auspicious for me, as a Rabbit. Hooray, I do love a liberal dose of auspiciousness. Previous Rabbit years have indeed included major, positive, life changing things

1975 – Started secondary school, won a beauty contest, had a crush on Greg Lake, had a crew-cut, made my flared jeans into drainpipes with the aid of mumsies sewing maching. Met Tiger who is still one of my bestest friends today

1987 – Started dating one of the nicest chaps I’ve ever known, I’ve subsequently been to both his weddings and we’re still friends

1999 – left my job of 5 years as a Senior University Lecturer, left University life. Later accepted a job in Seattle and applied for a USA work permit that arrived in 2000

I wonder what auspicious goings-on I’ll be able to dig up in 2011…

Soon after we met in 1975 Tiger became one of my closest friends, he still is. In our teens his gymnast’s body, deep dimples,  frequent wild giggle, and artistic talent all made him an exceptional boy. Exceptional. By definition not normal.

Once he phoned, upset, because a polterguiest was pestering him. The poltergiest would ring, he’d pick-up the receiver to hear only the dial tone, as soon as he put down the receiver the phone would ring again. Too short a time to rotary re-dial the number. This was about the time that touch dial phones came on the market. Neither Simon, I, nor anyone we knew had touch dial phones, automatic re-dial was not part of our understanding of the world.

Hindsight can explain what we didn’t know then. Then, my confidence in his being alright, no evilness tracking him, helped him move beyond his fear.

In Tiger’s mother’s house he sculpted my hair for an evening out. The new romantic styling was the height of fashion, as was flock wallpaper. Nearly 30 years on he’s still artistic, beautiful, trying to improve my hairstyle, one of my best friends and a romantic.

An eternal romantic.

Tiger: you were sat under your tree
Wendy: my tree?
Tiger: In Kingfisher field
Wendy: the copper beech?
Tiger: yes.   before I came to call for you, first  I would come by the field and look under the tree because you were often there,   you did a lot of your exam revision under the tree
Wendy: yes, I remember now. The tree was very helpful.   A calm, wise tree.   A girl’s got to develop a strong bond with a well established tree during her formative years. I had completely forgotten it.
Tiger:   Oh, Honey,   you are SO fickle

This blog post was bought to you courtesy of a cellular connection infront of Salisbury cathedral on a sunny September saturday courtesy of the letter T,   the colour green, and the shade of a conker tree.   Another day, another tree. Some things don’t change, other things change frequently.  Perhaps it’s time to find  a tree in Reading…

As part of the pre-christian blessing Tiger wrote a blessing and we jointly  smudged every room, and cupboard, with a Sage and Copal smudge stick while whispering the blessing:

Lady day and Lords of light

Bless this Wendy House and keep it right

Protect it with your love and might

and keep all evil far from sight

Cleanse and bless in love and truth

and keep Wendy safe and prosperous ‘neath your roof

Later,   when the smoke had cleared,   I pulled  one of my hawthorn  runes from thier bag to name and bond with the house.   I pulled  Odal:   “The Odal rune is often associated with property and inheritance, wealth and prosperity”   The association was pleasingly appropriate to the previously written blessing.

To who?

To ME!

Thanks a whole BIG BUNCH (of blooms) Tiger.

When they float shares in Tiger on the open market I’m INVEST-TING.   That boy knows how to treat an UnBirthday gal.   Huge hugs across the sea

W sweet-smelling-home  

during  immediate post-relationship insomina-trauma my ‘your absolutely fabulous’ votes go to:

• Rob –  because he’s a boy with the gutsiness to  double-cheek kiss british rugby players.   Hooray for pluckiness!
• Raymond – for providing wacky overnight reading material to make me giggle,   how does he find the time to be a ‘guru’,   speak and code in multiple obscure languages, and dig up obscure, yet spookily sensible, sociological  phenomena.
• M – for an outstanding,   promptly delivered,  2 hour phone conversation that included gems like ‘insomnia makes things happen’ and wonderfully surreal details of M’s own passage through life followed by some subtly subversive plans for upcoming weekends.   Hooray.   I’m so lucky to know people who can understand what I’m saying through the sound of blubby-blubby-really-blubby-tears in a foreign accent over a cellular service.   M’s the best.
• Drew – because he recommended the book on plastics in culture which impending post-realtionship insomnia will now give me time to read.   He’s also aware of Spokane.   Spokane is a mystery to me,   maybe I should drive there one night and tell you all about it.   What do you think,   Spokane,   land of mystery ‘exposed’?
• Tiger – for suggesting a painting project and tackling the hug-over-7,000-miles-apart-over-the-internet challenge.
• 4 individuals who invited me out to dinner almost every evening  this week.   Maybe some of them want a complimentary painting to their own brief?
• The Gal  who blames the full moon.
• The Posse who spontaneously arranged to chauffer me to a bar that sells good British beer for a mini party.

The goodness is I know that I can still ‘feel’ with the passion of a teenager.    Years haven’t ‘numbed’ me with sensible,   detached, reasonableness to being suddenly single.   It would seem I’m not sensible by nature.

UK vacation 7

Bethnall Green