Elephant Abstractions quilt by Violet craft. My 2nd attempt

I love quilts and quilt shows and all that creative stuff. However, sewing zillions of triangles together is not for me. Too fiddly and bitty and I like to create something different. I love elephants and was mesmerised when I saw my first elephant quilt, about 6 feet high at a quilt show. I came home determined to track down the pattern. I checked Pinterest and found loads of similar elephants in different colours. I'm all for that. Make it your own I say. The pattern is by Violet Craft and is called Elephant Abstractions. the pattern is about £30 for a printed one or less for a downloadable one. I got the printed one and put it on my shelf at home for a month or five. Then one day I got the urge and started. I'd never done any paper piecing before. u asked on FB if friends had advice. They wished me luck. one said I should start small if.id never done it before. I said "Hell No! In for a penny, in for a pound." I got right stuck in. Once I'd started I kept going night and day. It took about a month all in. The pattern comes printed on both sides of paper so I traced it on A4 coppier paper. some.bits were too big so I sellotaped paper together. I learned by my mistakes, of which there were many. Finally Pink Elephant was complete. I love him.

HMRC are failing the most vulnerable people - and making the rest of us lose the will to live.

My brother, who has Autism, has been having issues with the job centre. They are putting pressure on him to get a job. Of course people who are able to get a job absolutely should be strongly encouraged to do so. My brother's Autism was only diagnosed a few years ago. I am by no means an Autism specialist but, in my opinion, his is very restrictive of him doing what 'neuro typical' folk could do easily by themselves with virtually no issues whatsoever. For him, he would need help right from knowing where to look, to doing a cv, sending the cv and all the rest of it. Realistically it's not going to happen. He has had a job - for 20 years or so, working under the remploy scheme for ITV but he was made redundant ten years ago and that was that. The job centre have their job to do in chasing him to see what he is doing re finding a job but them calling him is causing him huge amounts of stress, sleepless nights and panic attacks. In turn, he turns to me to fix it, he has nobody else. I suspect he also turns to anyone else he thinks may be able to help him - his friends, the local minister, the neighbours, anyone and everyone. Nobody else can help him as these days everything is so governed by the Data Protection Act that the very people it is there to help and protect are the ones who suffer the most. In short there MAY be a way out in that he MAY have paid enough National Insurance stamps to be able to retire - to him this means the job centre will be off his back. He is NOT able to claim jobseekers allowance for reasons I won't go into. He has been living on PIP as he lives with his dad. However in order to sort this out we need to find out about his contributions. The job centre are not able to do this for him or help him in any way. I rang HMRC on his behalf (I have Power of Attorney for him). I have tried to get the info online but I can't as he needs to be with me as he needs to upload a photo of him to match his passport. He doesn't have a mobile phone (he was given one but he couldn't work out how to use it). Four minutes after calling and listening to how I can get the information I need online (I can't). I press options to say no i don't want to do a survey, I am not calling about myself - I get told they can only deal with the account holder and the line goes dead. I decide I will try again online. I then arrange to go to his house to sort it, I go over - 7 miles away, we go online and it asks if he has these documents; a valid UK passport or non-UK passport with a biometric chip a UK photocard driving licence issued by the DVLA (or DVA in Northern Ireland) a UK biometric residence permit or card a payslip from the last 3 months or a P60 from your employer for the last tax year details of a tax credit claim if you made one details from a Self Assessment tax return if you made one information held on your credit record if you have one (such as loans, credit cards or mortgages) He does not have ANY of the above. the closest he has is an expired passport. We decide to try this. We have to tke a photo of his passport and upload it - he does not have a mobile phone. I use mine. I have to download an HMRC app and with the app, scan the chip on his passport. It fails. I try again. I have now been in that house for 37 minutes and am wearing a mask due to my dog allergy. I am getting highly stressed. I rang them and finally got through. They talked me through uninstalling their app and reinstalling it. I did. It failed again. We decided it was because the passport, was expired by 6 months or so. Their staff member said I would have to phone but they weere closed then so I should call back. I called the following day. During the call the machine told me my call was important but I can find the information online (I can't). It told me this about 186 times during the 43 minutes I was on hold. It also said the average hold time from the previous day had been 32 minutes. I finally had to give up as my phone battery died. I tried again today at 8am. They asked me to press a million options but I have worked out if you press anything, they assume you are able to go online and eventually make it so you press an option where they can tell you to go online then they hang up on you. So I didn;t press ANY options, I just hung on. At 08:23 I got connected to an atual living person. 8.25 is when I should leave for work. I explained why I was calling and what I needed. I was told they couldn't discuss with me... I said I didn;t need them to discuss - I just wanted to send the information to my brother (whether he had paid enough NI contributios to get the job centre off his case)- I said I didn't need ANY information from them. Could they not just send the info to him> No I said I did have power of attorney for him. They asked all his details - which I gave them and then they wanted the PoA ref - which I managed to find and gave them. She put me on hold - for 5 minutes (I was now going to be late for work). She came back and said the number I had given her was incorrect as it should start with a V - the number I hadfrom the PoA letter did NOT start eith a V. She then said I could send them in the post the original copy of the POA. Ha bloody Ha yes, it cost £80 and if they think i'm going to trust them with the original they must think I'm insane. She said I could send a verified copy. I asked who should I get to verify - her answer a justice of the peace or my GP. I pointed out this was likely to take weeks and cost me at least £80. She agreed, but without it she was not able to help me. Sah suggested I call the pensions line to see if they could give a contributions statement. I dropped the call - I was now 15m late for work. I recieved another e-mail from my brother - is it sorted yet? I rang the pensions helpline at lunchtime. I have 30 minutes. I didn't get through. I have no idea what to do next Perhaps I should send them a link to this blog.

What's it REALLY like to have chronic eczema?

This post has been written by many others before - but of course everyone has their own experiences and here's mine... Firstly I don't want sympathy - that doesn't help. I'd far rather those around me understood what I am going through and knew when to comment and when to say nothing (and when to tell me to stop scratching - hint - NEVER! it makes me feel like a small child being told off) I don't even remember when I first got diagnosed with eczema- age 3, so I'm told. I am now over 50 (ahem, well over 50). In nursery and infant school, none of the other kids ever wanted to hold my hand in games - giving me a lifelong aversion to group activities which involve contact with others. We all know kids can be cruel and the ones in my class were no exception. 'EEEWWWWWW I don't want to hold her hand Miss, she's all scabby'. The teachers did little to help - instead of explaining (which may well have mortified me even more) they just told us to stand next to each other, arms outstretched but not touching if it made us feel better (yet this only felt like the other kids were justified in treating me that way). That was fine by me. In infants it was on my hands which were inflamed and cracked and often bled when I moved my swollen and hard to bend fingers. Playing with paints or sand or whatever else wasn't easy as it got into the cuts and stung. Aged about 6 or 7, my mother gave me pocket money to spend at the Church Fayre. I chose a princess shaped bubble bath - it was one of the first things I ever bought by myself and I was excited it was something both nice, useful and unusual. The woman behind the stall refused to sell it to me until my 'mummy comes over' because she saw the state of my hands. I felt belittled, embarrassed, very angry and very very hurt that I had been denied something for something I couldn't help. At about age 7 or 8 I remember having a lot of large boils on my legs behind my knees - I have no idea if this is common in eczema or just me but the boils were often hot and very painful. I do remember, often, my dad having to lance and squeeze them (I'm not sure if this is encouraged these days for boils - or even if it was in the 1970s) I remember having the pus squeezed out was horrendously painful and I cried in pain. In highschool I remember the shame of having blotchy, itchy and scabby red arms and legs which itched and bled and were so painful to move. The white shirt part of the school uniform was a nightmare as it showed the blood where I'd scratched too hard. I therefore always wore the school jumper on top but this caused problems in the summer when the classrooms were often as hot as a greenhouse. If I got too hot, I'd sweat - making the itch worse. When doing P.E. I was always cold and preferred to wear long sports trousers and long sleeves - but again this stood out from the others and in school I just wanted to fit in. The sports teachers and I had a love hate relationship. I loved to skip sports and they hated me. I wasn't sporty - which I put down to the asthma which often comes as a package along with the eczema (I know - lucky me!). So many memories of my high school teacher selecting two team captains who would pick, one by one from the remainder of the girls. I was always in the last three to be picked. When the team captains got down to the dreggs - us 3, they just gave up chosing - not wanting any of us. As you can imagine this did wonders for my self esteem. Having a shower after games was another nightmare which luckily has been wiped from my memory - in a similar way to that of a car crash. All through school I was under the care of the local dermatology department of the local hospital. From my teens into my twenties I had regular visits as an inpatient for up to 3 weeks at a time where they put steroid ointment all over me, then wrapped me in zinc bandages, covered this with an emollient cream and then put bandages on top. I looked like an Egyptian Mummy. My skin always got better in hospital and after three weeks they would let me home and the skin would flare again. Whether this was because I wasn't having 24 hr care and rest or because I lived in a hoarded house with more dust, housedust mites and general grubbyness than should have been allowed - however nobody said anything as I never mentioned it - because as a child that was my house and as such I thought it was normal! (much as I am totally repulsed by hoarding and hoarders now). I can't count the number of times I was told I should grow out of it. It was also referred to as 'Atopic Eczema' - ie Childhood Eczema and not to worry - I should grow out of it. I have few specific memories of my skin's behaviour in my college years. I was still under the local Dermatology department but apart from giving me steroid tablets and ointments, there was little else they could do. On several occasions I was asked to come in for training sessions with new doctors or lectures in the University Hospital of Wales where I would be poked and prodded and asked, in my opinion, very stupid questions. I was once sent for a colposcopy at the age of about 25 after an irregular smear. As if it wasn't bad enough at that age being sent to have a camera put somewhere highly personal but to my horror, the male doctor took one look at my legs and asked if I had been on holiday and been attacked by mosquitos. Over the years I have tried 1) Acupuncture - takes away the heat and the itching but it returns after about a week. 2) Reiki - little or no effect 3) Reflexology - no effect on the skin at all (although it's very relaxing). 4) Homeopathy - Tried this twice - no change whatsoever - after ten sessions at £50 a time, (Finally the practiotioner told me if I didn't stop whatever I was doing to cause this (and neither she nor i knew what that was) I would be dead within 2 years. That was 6 years ago). 5) Faith Healing - this did clear up the heat and I did feel better - but again the effects didn't last. 6) Bath oils - helpful but again only temporary. 7) Wet wraps - works well but VERY messy and say goodbye to nice clothes and sheets. 8) Salt baths - dead sea salt or Epsom salts - helpful but not a cure. 9) Chinese Medicine - no difference at all. 10) Cutting out Dairy - limited success for a limited time. 11) Cutting out Wheat and gluten perhaps some success but very restrictive. 12) PUVA light treatment. No improvement at all (and have since been diagnosed as being allergic to UVB light and banned from ever having that treatment again. Within Dermatology I have tried Azathioprine, Methotrexate, Cyclosporin, Mycophenelate Mofitil, Protopic, Dermovate, Betnovate, Eumovate, Hydricortisone and Prednisolone. I've had patch testing where about 50 small discs about the size of a 5p piece are applied to your back, each with a trace of a chemical or allergen on. They are taped to your back for 3 days and the results deciphered at the end. Three times I had to postpone the test because the skin on my back wasn't clear enough of eczema for them to do the test. Mine came back that I wasn't allergic to anything they had tested me for. I have also had 'prick testing' (which, my doctor pointed out often is the name used to describe those who think the test is useful rather than the test itself). This involves putting a drop of a substance (nuts/lanolin/dust/fur etc) onto the skin and then pricking the skin with a needle. After a few minutes a hive will develop if you are allergic to the substance. This is apparently highly inaccurate though. I have tried hair analysis which returned a huge list of 32 items 18 of which I've never had a problem and it didn't pick up my nut allergy. I have spent MANY pounds buying various creams which people recomomend to me, and other than moisturising, none were of any great benefit nor did they make an ounce of difference. It's also common for people to recommendsomething which worked for them bit What you may not realise Eczema is not just a rash - please don't say 'Ahha yes. I had a nasty rash like that last summer, it was all over my left knee and lasted for days, it was so itchy I had to rub cream on it. It itched so much I almost damaged the skin - so I know how you feel.' NO YOU DON'T. You have no idea. The itch of eczema can be all emcompassing - so bad you can't think of anything else. So bad you literally shake and sweat with the extreme restraint it takes not to scratch. Wrecked with guilt at the urge to just rip holes in yourself until the blood is running literally down the skin. Even then it often still continues to itch. The scratching is almost orgasmic sometimes as the relief is so great when the itching stops. It can feel as if you are wearing someone else's skin - someone 2 sizes smaller than you. It won't stretch or flex properly and every movement is restrictive. when its really dry, every movement will feel like stretching thin tissue.paper which is breaking apart in many places all the way. People with eczema will often have their fingernails cut extremely short - this is a damage limitation excercise. Often the remaining part of the fingernail will be highly polished - this is not cosmetic - it is a result of so much scratching, the nails get 'polished' by the skin. Clothes - wearing white is a total nightmare as no colour shows up blood better. People experiencing an eczema flare will not wear white. Wearing black or navy is also not a good plan - the dry skin and falling flakes are highly visible over a black jumper or jacket - imagine it looking like extreme dandruff. Grey marl is your friend hiding both the blood and the flakes, Clothes and layers. Skin is there to protect the body and one of the ways healthy skin does this is to regulate the temperature of its owner. Hence you may find the eczema sufferer wearing many thin layers and taking them on and off MANY times each day. They will be hot when all around them are cold and then on the hottest day they will be reaching for an extra layer. It's possible they will be wearing long sleeves if their arms are affected even in the middle of summer. Shorts are a no go as is wearing a t-shirt or bare legs. Also so many clothes get totally ruined by the greasy stuff you have to put on your skin merely to stop it falling off. The grease soaks into clothes ruining them as it won't wash out. The clothes show up greasy marks and they start to smell of warm grease. Disgusting. If it's not grease on the clothes and bedsheets, it's flakes - millions and millions of tiny flakes - ever got out of bed to see what looks like sand all over the bed? Ever had to hoover your bra when you take it off? Sunshine - Some people will find their skin improves in a warm and sunny climate. Sadly for me that's not the case as I have been diagnosed with Actinic Atopic Eczema and I am allergic to UVB rays. I must not go out unprotected in the sun or I'm likely to have a severe flare up - recently this has stopped me going on holidays or for walks with friends. I can't go and have a dig in my garden in the sunshine. When everyone else is out enjoying the sunshine, I'm hibernating indoors. Career - Since I can remember, a job with a white or short sleeved uniform is a non starter for me. Also I’ve avoided anywhere where regualr chemicals or handwashing is part of the job - hairdressing or food preparation. Also retail can be a problem when your face and hands are awful and you don't want to face the public, who can often be ignorant and rude. Hair - if you have eczema on your scalp it's hell - if you try to put ointment on it, your hair soaks up the grease and looks dreadful. Your scalp will flake - should you use a dandruff shampoo for this? I have no idea as common opinion is dandruff comes with a greasy scalp - eczema is dry - will it just exacerbate it? You can't call anyone who knows and the pharmacists aren't a lot of use here either. Don't dye your hair as you could get an allergic reaction - you just have to put up with dead-rat brown with grey bits - tough luck. Likewise, try going to a hairdresser who isn't paricularly sympathetic. I have had a hairdresser shriek 'Ewwwwww - Sharon - come and look at this'. in the middle of a busy salon - turning all heads in my direction and then being told ' we can't dye over 'that' as the skin is all broken'. (she could have been more subtle). Also be careful what shampoo and conditioner you use as they could provoke a reaction. Smell - all skin has its own smell but unhealthy skin smells bad. Whether it be the amount of ointments and creams applied or the damaged skin, I don't know. I know that on days when my skin isn't behaving and where I have covered myself in emollients, at some point during the day I get a warm vaseline kind of smell wafting up at me. I get paranoid everyone else can smell it too. My skin is always clean but I can't wear perfumes or body sprays etc for fear of allergies. Dermatogists say it's not necessary to shower daily as that dries out the skin. Personally I prefer to be clean and covered in emollients than worry about being smelly. Sex - I'm not going to say too much here - I'm hardly the expert and - heavens my mates may be reading this - but can you imagine being covered head to foot in an itchy dry scabby rash and then having someone wanting to get frisky with you. Skin already on fire and they want what? Sweaty, painful, itchy - not going to happen - not only highly uncomfortable but so unsightly and extremely embarrassing - try again in 6 months to a year. Make-up - This will not cover eczema - it will soak into the skin making it look caked and showing every line and wrinkle. By noon the make up will have sokedd into the skin causing the skin to dry up and flake off. By 1pm you will have all of your make up with half of your face covering your shoulders. Some make up will cause allergies - only thing is you will have to wear it to find out if you are allergic. Face and neck eczema - This, in my opinion, is the very worst kind - it affects your confidence and ability to carry out a normal life. It feels as if everyone is staring at you and if you talk to someone you feel they are staring at your face and not listening to what you have to say. Many times I have been stared at in this way. When I've stopped talking they carry on staring, not realising I have finished talking. I want to run and hide under a stone. I feel disgusting. I want to go home and cry - but I can't cry - tears casue my face to flare up and the flare can last for weeks. I can't allow myself to cry. It dictates the kind of clothes I can wear (nothing which irritates my neck, nothing black, nothing white). It dictates how I wear my hair (try to hide my face but can't have it down as I get sweaty at the back of my neck - can't wear a ponytail as it's all around the back of my neck and will be visible. When it's bad I can think of little else, even moving hurts. I can't go out without being stared at. I'm always hot or cold and constantly scratching. I feel disgusting. I have no confidence. As I started writing this, I was in the middle of a massive flare up. I had just been on a ski holiday where my face flared up and looked like a tomato with white bits. I spent the days on the slopes covered in skiwear goggles and a scarf. In the evening I stayed in my room waiting for the last meal slot so I could slink down when the restaurant was empty to avoid the stares. I don't know if the stares were real because I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact. In my head they were real and that was enough. I am currently on the waiting list for a new biological drug. We will have to wait and see.

 OK nobody has to read this but I have to write it or my head will explode.

Following blog post of 30th December when my dad came round for his 'Christmas meal' I have been trying to sort his insurance out. In short there was a 'reported incident' from Nov 2022 which meant his insurance company had opened a claim and put a reserve on - the claim was still open even though nobody had claimed on it yet. Perhaps the camera had caught him when he hit what he thought was some road furniture blowing about in a storm on a dark night. 

He got a neighbour to go on a comparison site - they found one with RAC for £675.  He took this but they called him the following day saying there was a claim outstanding he hadn't told them about and because of the claim and because he had 'witheld information' there was an additional premium of £330 which they would take from his card in 7 days.  

Because the 'claim/incident' was open is was keeping his premium high - he had a quote for £798 or so to renew on his 1.6 Ford Focus 2002. The car is probably worth £5 if he's lucky - its old, rusty and smells badly of dead/wet dog. There is also green stuff growing out of its crevices. (When I told him his car wasn't worth much because it was old rusty, stinky with dents and green stuff, he said - 'the green stuff will wash off!')

Tuesday 2 Jan - during my work lunch 1/2 hour - I rang the company he had been with for the past 15 years LV to speak to them. I spent 23minutes on hold before I got through. They said there was an outstanding 'incident' but nothing paid to anyone. They said I needed to speak to claims - then while putting me through, cut me off.

After work I spent another 17 minutes calling LV claims and I managed to get the claim closed - no claim made and nothing paid out. I hoped this meant the extra £345 was now not due. LV said the general database would update overnight so the new insurer should be able to see it and that there was no claim made by the following day. I rang dad and told him. 'Great', he said 'Now can you sort this USA letter for me. The USA letter was from a company who had told him he should contact them by phone or online before 1/5/24 (which means 5th Jan not 1st May...) He had had the letter at the start of December.  I tried to go online but I had to register - on registering, they said a password would be sent by post within 10 working days.  I tried to call and was on hold 19 minutes - to USA but with no clue as to how long the wait would be, I hung up.  I would try to find an email address once I got home.

Weds 3rd Jan (My 'day off' apparently). I rang the new insurer RAC to say the claim was now closed and could they check this on the general insurance database and confirm what the revised additional premium would be. They acknowledged it was closed no payment made, no fault but because there had been an incident there was still an extra £310 due. (they had charged an admin fee for this).

I told him and had to listen to him rant about there was no claim etc etc. I told him he had already told me the story MANY times and he tells me not to interrupt and carries on with the story I could recite backwards by now. I tell him I KNOW the story, could he just let me get on with it. He looks overly wounded and tells me 'well the main point is there WAS no claim you see...' 

'Dad' I say, loudly, just let me see what I can do. He says 'OOOHHHHHHH' and I know he is making a gesture where he throws his hands in the air like I just threatened him with a blunt object and says 'I'm just trying to help, but if you think you know it all then go ahead.'

I tell him I'll let him know and I set off home for the 7 mile trip over the mountain. I sneeze and cough all the way home and my eyes itch. I'm highly allergic to his house. He knows it but it makes no difference to the amount of times he wants me to go there.

Once home I go on Go Compare myself and put all his details in - a quote for £648 comes up top from SAGA. I call him again and have to check if he has any convictions, other claims etc he has not thought to tell me about. I have to check what excess he wants and if he wants legal or breakdown etc etc.

EVERY QUESTION has to be translated by Ant. Every word has to be repeated MANY times as dad will not wear his hearing aid. As soon as Ant speaks, dad shouts WOT I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU - SPEAK UP BOY (for Ant, 56, is a boy as far as he is concerned and is spoken to as if he were 4.) - and misses the rest of Ants conversation. Ant, being Autistic, doesn't understand what I am asking and gives dad his perspective which is worlds away from what I said and Imelda yells 'WHAT. What is she saying??'. They are more screaming at each other down the phone than having any meaningful interaction. A lot of swearing and I try to get them to shut up while I explain again.

I hang up and call SAGA to make sure they know about the claim that wasn't and anything else I have been told. I wait 13 minutes to get through and the lady answers in a v e r y   s l  o w  and  p r e c i s e voice and asks how she can help. I explain everything and the lady says she will have to speak to my dad before proceeding. Right!  So I tell her I will have to call him first so he know what's happening and who will be calling him.  The lady at SAGA says not to worry she is used to this. She stays on my mobile while I call him on my partner's phone and go through what is going to  happen. And answers, and tells dad who says 'WHAT - WHO WHAT'S HAPPENING? WHAT DOES SHE WANT? WHO?WHAT IS THIS ALL ABOUT? SAGA is happy with his answers and on my phone tell me the claim that wasn't has increased the premium to £748 for non protected ncd and £788 for Protected No claims bonus. As dad is 93, should he have a claim, his premium won't change until next renewal in December and by 2 years per claim - so if he did have a claim I can't see it's worth having it protected considering he may not be driving for much longer. I explain I will have to call him to explain - AGAIN.

The lady at SAGA says she will call me back at 4.  I ring Imelda again - same rigmarole as I try to explain about ncd protection. Imelda shouts at me he has always had it. I can't handle him shouting at me as if I am 4 any more - I will e-mail him.

I e-mail him. He calls me. He wants me to call his old insurer to see if now the claim that wasn't is closed if they will offer him a lower premium. He believes it will be £200 as that is what his premium went up by since last year. It was totally and utterly pointless even thinking of explaining this wasn't how it worked. I asked if he could call LV. 'Well I can't call them can I?' he said like I was stupid.

I called LV. 23 minutes later I got through. As he had lapsed at renewal on 28th Dec, They could not revitalise the quote - he would now have to be taken as a new customer. However - sorry, they didn't accept drivers over 80.

I rang him again - more shouting and screaming and confusion. Finally the lovely Anita from SAGA called me at 4 and then called him. He accepted their policy.

I was at the end of my wits by then. I went out for a walk to get my head straight.

I got home and after an hour a call from Imelda - he was very cross. Why hadn't I returned his phone call - he had called me on the home phone over an hour damn me. Apparently I never answer my phone. This attitude of his, and way of talking to me, is the exact reason my old phone ended up in 17 pieces and the wall had a small phone shaped indent. It's also the reason I had to get a new address book because the old one ended up ripped to shreds all over the living room floor. It's probably also the reason the neighbour's dog is scared of me and the reason why one of my cushions got de-stuffed and we are still finding bits of it three years later. Today it was the reason I lost my voice and said lots VERY unladylike words in front of the kids and now have a very red face.  When I had finished, Ant called me again and said 'Dad wants to know if you have called the company in America yet.'

I hung up then telling Ant to email me as I couldn't speak any more on the phone today.

Today was my day off.

Today was the 3rd January.

Tomorrow can only get better.

Thank you for reading.

Imelda comes round for tea - we have survived!

Saturday 30th December 2023 was a day I had been dreading for many, many weeks (even years). The family had all run out of excuses and after putting it off for the past 3 years due to Covid - 2020 and 2021 and the dreaded Green Monkey Disease in 2022 ... 'Yes Dad, sadly she has Green Monkey Disease and it's highly contagious and we'd HATE for you to catch it so perhaps later in the year would be better'...

So now it was that time again. Friends and colleagues had innocently asked whether I was inviting my dad to dinner on Christmas Day.  Much as these enquiries gave me a huge guilt trip, all things considered, I had to put the feelings of my own family first and our mental health, and everything else. I wasn't about to have to be digging up the patio on Christmas Day. He isn't their favourite person - (so many reasons, so little time to explain). He went to the Salvation Army for his Christmas day Dinner with Ant, my brother. Yes, I did feel bad about this but my own family have to come first. I know there are folk who will judge me on this but if you know the full truth (Diary of a Hoarder's Daughter) maybe you would be half way towards understanding.

He called on the phone the day before 'When would you like us to be ready for the meal?' He managed to make it sound like he was doing me a favour and the way he called it a meal he made it sound like something he was entitled to and I was there to facilitate it.

So I went to collect them both from their house - 7 miles from mine. I didn't want him driving over the mountain in this weather in the dark to somewhere he has only ever been twice before (even though we have lived here 2.5 years now and he still drives).  All the way there the weather was clear. The second I pulled outside his house a torrential rainstorm hit. Perhaps someone was trying to tell me something. He and Ant got in the car. Imelda with his tatty Lidl 5p carrier bag and we set off over the mountain to my place.

Before we got to the end of his road, he began telling me about his car insurance renewal - there had been an incident in Nov 2022 where, on a dark and stormy night (no, really) he was driving along and 'heard a bang you see'. He parked up some way up the road and walked back but couldn't see anything so got back in the car and drove home. He found his own wing mirror was hanging by a wire and assumed he'd hit something in the roadworks.

About 4 months later he had a call from his insurance company asking if he remembered being involved in an accident on that road... He told them it MAY have been him as he remembered a bang etc etc and he heard no more about it. His wing mirror was fixed and he forgot all about it.  I rang his insurer and discovered there is a £2800 reserve on it and was then cut off.  I will have to call them back.

He recently had his renewal notice through and it had increased £400. His NCD is protected but a claim was noted. He argued he never made a claim - I pointed out the other person may have claimed against him. He was adamant there was no other car. He wants me to sort this out so despite him knowing full well that I worked in the underwriting department of 2 major car insurance companies for over 10 years, he doesn't choose to understand nor believe a word I say. I therefore have to go around calling his insurance company as he can't hear them. I have to go to his house to do this because I do not have power of attorney ('yes', he had often said, - 'that could be a good idea one day'). Until then, every time he has an issue with ANYTHING, I have to do a 14 mile round trip to sort it out.

We drove home to mine through the torrential rain and parked up. On entering the house I heard a huge 'Oh fukkit here we go' from the kitchen.

To be fair the kids made an effort despite their requests all week for me to say they were out/sick/left home. They all made the effort to make conversation. However for the first 20 minutes Imelda sat in silence on the sofa fiddling with his hearing aid. (It had been so long since he used it the batteries had gone dead). With 2 cards of 6 hearing aid batteries on his lap.  He tried one battery after another until 11 had been used and found to be dead.  The packs had probably been hanging around since 2014 when he first had the hearing aid and were probably long out of date. Finally, we gave him a watch battery which worked.  Despite this, he spent the whole time we were eating in silence concentrating on eating every bite of his dinner. When we did try to involve.him in the conversation, he said 'Are you chatting to me?' 

Ant talked a lot - bless him - he doesn't get out much but Imelda didn't try to join in nor did he want to try to make conversation - apparently totally disinterested in anything we had to say despite not having seen his grandchildren in months. Then, after we had finished eating, he asked my son (his grandson) about his car. They had a long conversation about cars. He didn't ask the girls about anything at all, nor did he acknowledge they spoke to him.

He then went to get his tatty Lidl carrier bag - like he was Santa, about to pull out a beautifully wrapped  gift with ribbons and brightly coloured crispy paper from a sack - he pulled out a tatty box, badly and only partially wrapped in the exact same piece of well worn, now floppy, wrapping paper I had wrapped his gift in last year. Inside was the annual gift of a box of Foxes variety biscuits for me and my partner to share (in date - I know, right!). Attached was a card. He told me to open the card carefully as there was something inside 'for the kids' who were all still sitting around the table. Out of the card dropped three cheques - one for each of my daughters (age 18) and one for  my son (age 20). The girls had £20 each - my son had £25. Seeing this, the 3 cheques together but one for £5 more than the other two, I didn't know what to say - within 4 seconds of having the cheques, all the kids knew my son had been given £5 more than his sisters. Even he appeared to be embarrassed by this. mouthing 'sorry' to his sisters who were speechless that this had been done so blatantly, but too polite and somewhat embarrassed to call him out on it. It was a very welcome gift after all and shouldn't they be grateful to be given anything!?

Not even I knew what to say. I know they should be grateful he gave them anything and by no means should anyone feel entitled to receive anything. However, my kids are his only grandchildren and the fact he gave his grandson £250 towards driving lessons on his 18th birthday and his grand-daughters £18 each on theirs, was still raw in my mind. Was he seriously making a point he still, in 2023, believes boys are better than girls?  I have tried so hard to make sense of his actions and try to justify them in my head over the years but there are so many instances I can recall which suggests this us exactly what he thinks.  

We handed his gifts to him. 'Right!' he said, taking them and placing them in his carrier bag. It was as if this had completed the gift exchanging part of the ceremony and he was satisfied it had been performed correctly and to his satisfaction. No doubt he would open them.later at home where he could carefully take off the wrapping paper to use again next year for our biscuit selection box.

He then produced a pile of paperwork which he said he wanted me to see. Firstly his insurance documents which he insisted on telling me all about again and refusing to listen to me when I explained how insurance worked; that a claim against him was something he should have declared and listening to him say he hadn't claimed. - The fact I worked in Car insurance for 13 years meant nothing at all because I'm female so whatever I say can be dismissed as female rambling.  He wants me to call the company on Tuesday. 

Tired of arguing I agreed.  Then he brought out 2 envelopes on the reverse of which he had hand written a complaint to the hospital who had fined him for parking in a non-parking space in their car park. He reckons as he is 93 he should be let off as it is his first parking fine ever and the bay wasn't marked as not for parking in - he wants me to go to the hospital to take a photograph of the bay - even though there is a clear cctv photo attached to the letter - this means taking time out on a Saturday to go to get him to take him to the hospital to take the photos then take him back home. Then he wants me to type up the letter and send it to the hospital. My time and effort are expected not requested and definitely not appreciated.

Next was some letter from some company in USA who he is dealing with who need a reply to something by 5th January - by phone or online. I tried to go online and it said they would send sign in details by post which would take 10 days.  I will have to go to his house to call them as he can't make sense of the answering messages to press 1 for this and 2 for that.

At the end of the evening, while I was getting my coat and car keys to take them home, he was sat at the table with one of my daughters - who had made so much effort during the evening to be polite and civil to him and who has tried so hard always to be nice to him. He looked her straight in the eye and said 'I have a photo of your brother on my wall!'

That broke her heart - she didn't tell me until I got home - she had red eyes and that was the worst thing that I couldn't be there to console her. I don't know if it is worth all the stress any more. I know he is 93 and has been like that forever but I won't let him do this to my family as well as me. No more words :(

I took him back at about 9,30, my daughter coming over for the drive.  More so we could both 'vent it out' on the way back. I'm sure I heard a distinct cheer from inside the house after shutting the front door after we left.

Rammstein - The Concert

It was expected to be 'Different from anything we had ever seen or heard before'.  

Oh boy were they right! 

June/July 2022, Unsure if I'm allowed to blog this as I work at the venue, I will be no more specific on location than that.

Having had Ed Sheeran and the Stereophonics/Tom Jones in a few weeks before, we were perhaps somewhat nervously anticipating the Ramms from Germany. The boss told us we were to 'expect the unexpected, be open minded, be prepared for anything and most important of all wear the little orange earplugs given to us before the event.  If nothing else this was going to be...

LOUD. 

The Ed crowds had been mainly well behaved and a mix of young and old, a few weeks before. The main issue with them was the queues for the merchandise. I was stupefied at the number of people happy to miss the support acts in order to stand in a queue for about 45 minutes to pay £24 for a t-shirt or £45 for a beige sweatshirt (I mean beige... really - although the colour choice didn't stretch to much more than that to be fair). Those who had been to Primark on the way in had bagged a black Ed t-shirt for about £4.

The Tom Jones/Stereophonics crowd were averagely older, the TJ fans probably averaging the crowd age at about 50. Apparently one lady, who had passed away a few weeks before, had left a pair of her knickers (Clean, apparently) for her daughter to throw onstage for the man himself as historically is the done thing at such an event. By the end of the night, there was fighting in the toilets because some 'ladies' (I use the term loosely) had gone in through the out door thereby jumping the queue. As you may well know, us British do like a good old queue. At one point a fight broke out and there were fingernails and eyelashes flying everywhere. By the end of the night there were about 50 pints of dark-fruits cider causing waterfalls down the concrete stairs. This was partly due to the egg-box type container dished out by the venue for carrying multiple drinks. As soon as these get wet they turn to mush and no longer hold anything and the pints hit the deck. At about £6 a pot that's quite an expensive water feature. For those who managed to get their drinks back to their seats and drink them, many were so inebriated that they fell down the wet stairs left for them by the not so lucky. 

Anyway, Rammstein - I digress. We noted there were a lot of German and Polish people coming in to see the show, many of these dressed in a lot of black and many wearing a lot of what my late aunt would have called 'stage make-up', these were both men and women. They looked quite alarming but turned out to be lovely, polite and well spoken folk.  They came in early to watch what appeared to be an hour long piano solo by the support act which appeared to go down well and the crowd applauded politely. They drank in moderation, coming back from the bar with single pints and not the 4 at a time we had seen in previous events.

Staff were asked if they wanted to go down to the floor level 'moshpit' as most of the crowd action was expected in that area. A polythene 'rain mac' was then issued to the volunteers and a warning was then given about 'flying bodily fluids'. Ewwww.

At the allocated time I inserted the little orange things in my ears which were apparently supposed to save my hearing. Ye Gods, no matter whether I had these earplugs, noise cancelling headphones or the ability to time travel to Timbuktu, nothing quite prepared me for this. (and I was the only one wearing them from what I could see). The volume made my ribs vibrate like xylophone keys. Leaning against the wall just made them vibrate more as the whole building shook.

The show started with huge jets of fire and plumes of black smoke to fill the whole stadium. Amongst this carnage a small German man had lit a cigarette.  He was asked by a steward politely to put it out as stadium rules state no smoking. He did so, apologetically although clearly confused by this apparently pointless local quirky rule. The show continued, and I watched with interest. Next, black confetti was shot into the air filling the stadium with what appeared to be a biblical scale plague of flies. The band played on. Having never been cultured with the likes of German Rammstein music, I couldn't tell you what happened during what song, indeed my level of appreciation was such that they could have played the same sequence of notes over and over all night and I, personally, wouldn't have noticed. The crowd, though were standing and singing and appreciating every single moment.

At one point a huge cauldron type cooking pot was assembled onstage and a chap was placed inside. A large fire blower was aimed at the fire kindling underneath and three 'attempts' were made to set it alight. When these attempts 'failed' a monster fire-blower on wheels was brought onstage, I could picture health and safety getting a little edgy at this point. More fire and a lot more smoke, so much so that it was impossible to see the other side of the stadium and people outside thought the building itself was on fire (according the the local rag the following day).

at this point, the man who had been told not to smoke raised his hand in the way Germans do with his cigarette - surely it was OK to smoke now? No - it wasn't!

Next, the front 18 rows of crowd were covered in white 'foam' from an industrial sized penis shaped cannon which the singer sat astride and aimed with predictable glee.

Next three life rafts/dinghies appeared from one side on the ground floor with band members inside and the crowd surfed these overhead towards the stage. The band continued, their costumes were interesting - a range of everything including some skeletons which lit up and danced. A huge baby pram was set alight onstage and an abundance of smoke and hellfire raged throughout the night. By the time the crowd left at 10:30, we were about physically spent.

The following day the local rag described them as 'rooted in spectacle rather than musical technique' and told how the locals thought the stadium had suffered a catastrophic fire as flames were seen high above the roof level.

Not sure if I would do it again - my ears are still ringing, but it's one we will all remember for a very long time.

Why you shouldn't ask someone to make a quilt for you. The true cost of a quilt.

 

Having recently been in lockdown, I have used my time designing and making quilts, wall hangings and various sewn items. I make these for myself, for my own amusement and entertainment, to stave off boredom, to take my mind off everything which is bad with the world and because I like producing beautiful things. I don't always have an idea where the finished item will go, who it's for or even whether it will work out. It is both the process of creating and the anticipation of the final item which keeps me going.

I've made a few quilts recently and put them on Facebook, as I like people to know I do actually have some talents, I like to show my stuff off - or what is the point of making them and let's face it - it's lovely to receive comments as justification that perhaps I actually have a talent. Makes me feel good - of course it does. It spurs me on to go to do more.  I have donated a few quilts to the local hospital baby Special Care Baby Unit as quilts to go over incubators. I've made some for relatives or friends as it makes me happy when someone knows the work required and suitably appreciates it. Giving makes me happy.

So here's the problem - when someone I know kind of not too well asks me to make a quilt for them or their family. - What do I tell them?  I'm honoured to be asked but I never know what to say as a reply.

Firstly my quilting is done in my own private leisure time, after work. It's done in my 'me time,' my relaxing time. I put on my music (yes likely Rock Choir), I shut my door, put on my onesie and the creative ideas and juices begin to flow. I rarely know what a finished piece will look like until I have finished. For those who don't know the process, it's this;

1) Planning - how big, what colours, what design. what method (sewing/applique/piecing......)

2) Buying the fabric - do you go out to get some? do you use what you already have? - each piece of fabric comes from a bigger piece - the smallest bit of fabric you can buy is a fat quarter - usually about £2 upwards for a fat quarter - these are usually only sold as a part of a fat quarter bundle - with 4 or 5 other fat quarters - about £10-£15 a bundle.  Off the roll, the minimum you can buy is a half metre - about £5.  So for EACH colour you want in your quilt, you will have to get the fabric first. Take the elephant above - I used 12 different fabrics - We're talking about £15 at least for the pink alone. The backing fabric was £7.50 a metre - I used 1.5 metres. so £22.50 so far. Plus my petrol running about to the shops or postage to get the fabric. Then there's the iron on interfacing - this helps me to be able to cut each tiny piece of fabric without it fraying and losing its shape. This is £3.50 a metre - Let's call it £30 just for fabric. 

3) Now the elephant - I need to spend probably a good 2-3 hours drawing a grid to make the elephant from an A4 PC printout to the actual size of about 3.3ft x 1.5 ft. I can't draw freehand. - Oh and add a roll of wallpaper or lining paper so I can draw it in one go without having to sellotape lots of A4 sheets together. - Cost about £3 time taken - about 3 hours

3) Now I need to iron the interfacing onto the fabric and draw out each shape individually and label it so I know what goes where - each bit gets sewn on individually.  This part probably takes about 4 evenings kneeling on the floor in the evenings in front of the tv. -   For the brick quilt, I have to measure and cut each brick to EXACTLY the same size plus the 'cement' strips of fabric - also these need to be exact. I then have to lay the bricks out so no two the same are together and the whole quilt looks equally balanced.  I then have to number the bricks so they don't get mixed up.  cost £0   hours - 15 

4) Now I can start sewing. - I need to iron each piece on and then sew it onto the backing fabric. This takes probably about 25 hours for the elephant. For the wall probably about the same as each piece has to be placed, lined up, pinned, sewn and ironed before adding the next 'brick'.  About 25 hours.

5) Adding the wadding and backing. Once the front is finished and I'm happy, I have to buy the right wadding - this is about £15 for 3 metres - it is best to get more than needed so you can trim it down later - I also have to have it posted or go and get it in the car.  I also need a 3m piece of backing fabric - plain cotton is about £7.50 a metre.  I then have to find a huge space on the kitchen floor and lay the quilt out there, all three layers have to be flat with no wrinkles - this then has to be pinned about every 10" or so to stop it moving about. This part is murder on the knees and takes about 2 hours.

6) Once you have the quilt sandwich, it has to go through the machine to be quilted to stop the layers moving about and give the texture and loft expected on a quilt.  I only have a normal sewing machine and trying to feed a huge quilt through it while supporting the weight and being accurate is an acquired skill which I still have not fully acquired.  You CAN get this sent off to be done on a long arm machine which is probably worth doing if you are doing a family heirloom quilt but this will cost you well over £100 depending on design and size.  I do mine myself and if you look closely my lines are all off and to be frank it wouldn't pass any tests - although my quilts are just for me and mine are all about speed and being pleasing to MY eye and the creation of an idea.  I would never win any competitions for skill and accuracy - this is not important to me. If you have spend years doing a quilt and it is to be a family heirloom - have it quilted professionally.      Time taken on a regular (Aldi) sewing machine about 30 hours. (and this is my method which is rushed as my quilts are for me and nobody is judging my accuracy or skill).

7) Next you have to cut the quilt square and edge it - more fabric and sewing.  I like to put a corded edge in my quilts just to give them a frame. More crawling about on the kitchen floor with pins. This part takes about 5 hours.

So we are looking at a cost of £lots and time MANY hours. Bearing in mind these quilts are for me alone, the odd slip up is fixable and a last minute new idea is acceptable. I get pleasure from the creative process, seeing my idea come to life and making something all mine which reflects my own personality, and gives my family something for the future.

So what to do if someone wants to buy my quilt? - well if firstly, I don't think the person asking is ever aware of what goes into a quilt - time or cost or love. If I were to tell them, I'm pretty sure in 99.9% of cases the person would be horrified. If I were to charge by time and cost, we are talking of my own time, outside work. If I were paid minimum wage per hour of £8.50 or whatever it is, we are talking hundreds. Then you have my creative ideas, my skills and my personal input. My 'me' time is precious - and surely I am undervaluing myself by charging anything less than minimum wage. If I were to ask more than £50, most times the horror on the asker's face would not be well hidden and an excuse would soon follow - this creates awkwardness I could do without. £50 would be asking less than £1 an hour for my skill and time and that is without the fabric cost. Yes you can get a manufactured one online for less than this - may I suggest this as an alternative?

On asking a non-quilting friend recently, what they thought I should charge for a quilt if I made one for someone else, their reply was 'Well you want to charge at least £50 - it's your time after all, you don't want to undersell yourself!'. This was from a well meaning friend - not wanting me to undersell myself.  Says it all really.  The fabric alone costs more than that. I pointed out it probably took me about 3-4 months in all, as I was working in the day time and managed only about an hour a day on the elephant one.

If I were to make a duplicate quilt for someone else, the creative process would be gone along with the uniqueness of the original. There would be time constraints too if I were making it for someone else. I would feel pressurised into doing something in my 'me' time which would be for someone else.  My 'me time' is worth at least minimum wage. It should be at an amount which makes it worth it. I've had people ask if they can provide the fabric by way of old sheets and clothes. This makes it harder for me as I still have to cut off seams. sleeves and the fabric is all different making it far more difficult to sew. I still have to measure each piece and cut each individual piece.

Even if I were making 'just a quilt with squares' it would still take a HUGE amount of time - my time - which I could, and would prefer to, spend doing my own thing.  So no, I won't make you a quilt, so please don't ask.  I have been asked - many times, and I feel bad saying no. However, time is precious and spending months making something for someone who expects it for £50 - it isn't going to happen. Please google 'true cost of making a quilt'. The article estimates the true cost - at minimum wage, would be thousands. Whilst I think it is maybe an overestimate it does break everything down.

I've heard tales of people spending YEARS making a beautiful quilt for someone, putting hours upon hours of painstaking accuracy and love into it, giving it as a gift, to find it being used for the dog months later.  If you want a lovely quilt, I hear they are quite reasonable ones to be had online. :)

To sum it up, I have a story, I once made a special wall hanging quilt for a friend.  I spent virtually a whole week on it when I had a week off work.  I'd guess it took me about 30 hours.  I was So proud of it and the person I made it for love d it too.  Stupidly I did not set a price before I made it and so when they asked how much did they owe me, I lost 2 nights sleep and then fought with myself whether to ask £35 or £50. I finally asked £50 which the friend was willing to pay.  I was very chuffed... Until the following day when my stopcock started leaking, it was a Friday and I panicked it would get worse over the weekend. I had no idea how to fix it - this was the main stopcock tap so I couldn't turn it off and try myself. I rang a plumber who told me he was passing my house in an hours time, he would have a look.

An hour later, the plumber knocked on the door and asked to be shown the stopcock which was right near the front door. Wrench already in hand, he spent about 8 seconds tightening the nut. (Which I could have done had he suggested it before he came - I didn't know stopcocks did not have washers).

He charged £100.     £100 callout for 8 seconds work.  It kind of puts everything into perspective really doesn't it?

So just please don't ask xxx

Alternatively you can buy the same sewing machine I have - in Aldi - £149.  Then you can make your own. :)