Hello, welcome to my musings.

Here in lie the thoughts and ramblings of a 30-something singer and writer, who has some very strong opinions on most things (that you may or may not agree with). Here I will probably whitter away regarding the inane and pointless, but sometimes there may be the odd flicker of something insightful although to be honest that will probably be very rare. Feel free to comment and question, but as always...

Stay gorgeous,

Sunday, 27 February 2011

PMA and all that Jazz

So the positive mental attitude attack faltered a little last week. It had been more than a bit stressful work wise unaided by me being stupidly oversensitive about many things.
I am a great believer in what you put out into the wider world you get back, so with me being all 'woe is me, nobody likes me' it was unsurprising that nobody really had any interest in my whinging. Plus if you, dear reader, are having a shit day then the last thing you want is me going off about how nobody listens to me and whine, whine, moan, moan. Sorry about that, great friends of the interweb but we all get those days and weeks don't we?

Thankfully an awesome gig on Thursday put that all back into perspective and give me the gee up that I desperately needed. Sometimes you have to let go and just allow the moment to take you. CJ gives the best hugs and has that enviable knack of giving me that 'it's all ok mate' smile when I need it most. She is a true blessing in my life (yes I know I'm gushing but sometimes you have to put these things on record). The boys in the band are a constant source of laughter, and being the old bird of the piece they humour me my foibles. For that I utterly adore them. Plus I really am blessed to work with the most amazing musicians.

Anyhoo, where was I before I got all soppy... oh yes, PMA and all that jazz. So yes, I realised last week that the only person around me who thinks that I am inept etc, old, unable to do xyz, is me. That was an interesting realisation. For all my ranting in the office about how it appeared so and so was making me feel that they think I can't do my job.... WRONG it was me utterly misreading things because I was being so stupidly over sensitive. We all do it, but realising that it's how we think others think of us, that was quite an interesting moment.

So I've been working hard on when that voice crops up to tell it, 'OH back off buster and get back in your hole' and it seems to be working. I'm also getting into the habit of saying no. That's quite a tricky one to master but I'm learning, slowly. So essentially I've taken control and responsibility for the fact that it is only ME that makes me feel this way. And that's got to stop.
On a side note, only a few weeks to Hammerfest and the interview requests have started to come in. I'm stupidly excited about this festival because having attended last years as a punter I know how good it is. Also I get to see some amazing bands that sometimes financial constraints don't allow. So talking about gig stuff, I best push off and get the admin bits and bobs for tomorrow's gig ready and put some lyric ideas and melody ideas down on this 'ere computer for the guys to listen to. Then get ready of rehearsal later..... I do like being busy.

Have a good one guys


Thursday, 10 February 2011

Some days are tougher than others

Isn't that so very true. Today is a prime example. Lots of meetings this morning in work and the feeling that I'm hitting my head on a brickwall, coupled with the impression that of late, I appear to be inept at communicating how I truly feel/want to say/think etc.

It's at times like this that I could happily just curl up under my duvet and not come out into the bright, bustling world and happily let the depression take over. How very melodramatic of me, eh? But that is exactly how I feel. You will hear many women say 'Oh my hormones are at it again' and they will be right. This modern day of pills for this and potions for that, coupled with food that takes 2 mins from wrapper to hot in a microwave (or chicken ding as my beloved Grampa called it), is it any wonder that large men have boobs and women are depressed to Hades? Our hormones are bombarded with extra portions of their own selves on a daily basis. You'll find I'm an advocate of organic foods and processed rubbish is a no no in my house. I've become so fixated by this that I'm writing another blog about it. I'll add a link here when it's live :)

But soldier on we must and battle through the lows to regain the highs that keep us smiling. And so to the gym, I once again venture even though I have no motivitaion or inclination to attend. But force myself I shall and I know that it will release the endorphines that will have me fighting fit with another smile on my face in the morning. Add to that a night reading books on confidence etc and how can I possibly not be anything other than a bright ray of sunshine? Yes I too suffer with confidence issues, as hard as you may find that to believe.

Afterall we weren't born depressed or negative. We habitualised those traits until they become the norm, we allow society to dictate how we see ourselves and how others should see us. So why not reverse the trend and habitualise a positive outlook? Why not gain a self image that you are happy with? Easier said than done, I know only too well. But that's what I'm doing. I'll let you know how it goes.... after I've crawled out from under my duvet ;)


Tuesday, 1 February 2011

2011 you started with such promise....

And yes, you did start with great news.

Firstly the band got announced for Hammerfest 3, which is something we'd been working on for a while and thankfully the hard work paid off. We finalised all the editing of the tour video and started to look into other exciting developments, many of which I can't go into yet but just to give you an idea that January started on a high.

Alas, sadness took over.

On Sunday January 16th my father in law, Peter Kirby, suffered a severe stroke. We had got in late from a gig in Birmingham where Gav (my husband) had done all the driving, only for him to pack up and scoot off to Scotland as soon as his Mum called to tell us the news. By 8pm that evening Gav was at the Kirby homestead in Port William.

It was a shock of course and no matter how much preparation you have it is always heartbreaking but preparing for years for news of this ilk, I'm sorry to say we had been.

Gav's Dad had suffered kidney failure about 10 years ago, a side effect of is diabetes. About 8 years ago he had a kidney transplant. He was recovering well when shingles hit and affected his eyesight. He lost all sight in one eye and was partially sighted in the other, this was hard for Pete as he was an avid reader. We'd spent hours discussing the finer points of Sherlock Holmes both being big fans. Things again started to improve health wise (although Dad had to walk with a stick) and the Kirby's retired from working in Bahrain and returned to the South West of Scotland and to Elsie's (Gav's Mum) home turf. Unfortunately illness struck again, with Pete wheelchair bound for a long period due to the diabetes now affecting the bones in his feet. The bones were rotting internally and eventually amputation was the only course of treatment to stop the spread any further. Pete also suffered with cancerous growths, but these could be easily dealt with as they were on the surface and no other treatment for them were needed other than removal - thankfully.

But what a difference the amputation made. I recall going to see them, and Pete standing up without zimmer or stick. For the first time in ages there was no pause to brace for the pain he felt everytime he stood. It was wonderful to see. It also meant that they could come to visit us at home as Pete could now handle the stairs at our house. I know that meant the world to Gav.

Christmas just, we were worried that the weather would hinder our efforts to spend the first Christmas is two years with Gav's parents. Nothing was stopping us this year and we packed all the necessary supplies plus sleeping bags and spade, just in case, and hot footed it up to Scotland for 5 days. And I am so thankful that the weather favoured us. Pete looked to be in the best health we had seen him for a long, long time. He had had two growths removed the day before we arrived which made him feel a little off colour the first day but come Christmas Eve much laughter and good times were had. It was good to see Pete in the kitchen cooking and, boy could he cook :)

Gav came home on the Monday after Pete's stroke. Dad was in a stable condition, no change overnight and there was not much he could do. Tuesday morning January 18th, Gav's youngest brother called to say the hospital had phoned and Dad was deteriorating. 5:45pm Dad passed away.

I am grateful that it was quick. The rehabilitation would have been very long, and for the most part he would have been just existing had he survived. He would never have wanted that. Pete lived life, just existing was not an option. I am grateful that Gav and his brothers, Clive and Richard, all got the chance to get to Scotland to see him while he was in the best of health before the stroke and one last time on the Sunday before he passed.

Pete never grumbled or complained about his illnesses. He was a positive man with the attitude of 'just get on with it', a typical Yorkshire man, proud and hardworking who had travelled the world, had three wonderful sons and the strongest and most adoring wife. He was a realist, a very practical man. He lived a very full life and even though he had battled diabetes, his Moriarty, for as long as I had known him he didn't let it get him down (or he never showed it if it did). He loved custard which meant an instant rapour with my Mum and me and enjoyed good wine a plus with my own Dad! Silly how it's those little things like custard conversations that make you smile, eh?

I couldn't have asked for a better father in law and I will be forever grateful that he accepted me into his family.

To use Watson's own comments regarding Holmes after his 'death' and the Reichenbach falls:

'A few words may suffice to tell the little that remains. An examination by experts leaves little doubt that a personal contest between the two men ended, as it could hardly fail to end in such a situation, in their reeling over, locked in each other's arms. Any attempt at recovering the bodies was absolutely hopeless, and there, deep down in that dreadful caldron of swirling water and seething foam, will lie for all time the most dangerous criminal and the foremost champion of the law of their generation. The Swiss youth was never found again, and there can be no doubt that he was one of the numerous agents whom Moriarty kept in this employ. As to the gang, it will be within the memory of the public how completely the evidence which Holmes had accumulated exposed their organization, and how heavily the hand of the dead man weighted upon them. Of their terrible chief few details came out during the proceedings, and if I have now been compelled to make a clear statement of his career it is due to those injudicious champions who have endeavored to clear his memory by attacks upon him whom I shall ever regard as the best and the wisest man whom I have ever known.'

Sleep well Dad, we miss you.