Please stand for Mr & Mrs Cruandall

Well folks, it finally happened,

Stood still whilst

and the (not so) lovely

exchanged these

The bride had finally found a dress (after buying two that were too small)

That was perfect to hide this;

whilst the Groom realised that he had just

to the hope of ever having any of this

Reality hit home and he realised it was time to

to his new life............

We are so happy for you both,

I'm still standing....

.... well propped up, but at least I'm not down - right?

It's been while since my last post - I have no excuses or apologies to offer. I expect many of you (ok, all two previous readers) will have moved on, but if you are still checking in, thank you for sticking with me.

So where have I been and what have I been doing and why am I back?

To answer the first, I've not been anywhere other than home/work.

To answer the second, I have filled all of my 'spare' time running. I run because I don't have to think when I'm running. I have no fears or worries whilst I run. I simply concentrate on staying upright!

Finally, I'm back because I was told that I look too tired, stressed, scrawny and my breasts have shrunk.

Obviously I need to lay off the running and come back to blogging!!!!!!!!

The House of Cards

My life is falling apart.
The blue tac that has been holding it together for the last 18 months has finally lost it's stick.

I don't know what to do to make everything better.
I don't know how to take back all of those terrible things that I have said.
I don't know how to erase all of the selfish things that I have done.

I don't know how make Mr M love me again.

Suggestions on a postage stamp please!

Curve balls

Life continues to throw curve balls - some I can catch and pitch right back, some just fly right past and are insignificant, some hit me square on, they are the ones I don't see coming.

17 years ago one of those curve balls hit me, it hit me so damn hard that it left bruises. Bruises that I've covered up. Hidden. Forgotten about.

How was to know that curve balls have boomerang qualities. How could I have predicted that the same curve ball would return some 17 years later. How was I to know that the person throwing it would be someone I adored?

How was I to know that - after 17 years and all that I have experienced - that curve ball wouldn't affect me in the same way?

It's hard to admit that life has changed you, that experiences have made you harder. It's heartbreaking to know that feelings and emotions you once embraced, you now fear and avoid.

The reality of being a grown up, of being a parent, of being someone who has been hurt.

So if I say I'm wary of the curve balls, it doesn't mean I fear them. I just need to accept them and learn how to deal with them.

Would I be friends with me?

I doubt it.

I doubt that I'd think it worth the effort of trying to penetrate my 'stand-offish' exterior.
I doubt that I'd think I was worth a second conversation - why would I be?
I doubt that I'd be bothered with the slow dance, with dodging the curve balls.
I doubt that I'd enjoy being analysed -(it's a self defence mechanism - honest)
I doubt that I'd actually give a damn about a young lady who on the surface is over confident and self assured.
I doubt I'd take the time to wonder whether I was cruelly sarcastic or extremely funny.


If I did make the effort, if I did let myself take a second look at me. Then Yes, I'd probably want to be friends with me - out of pure curiosity if nothing else.

If I did become friends with me I'd hope that I'd find a true friend.
I'd find someone who's been through their own fair share of crap, who's stronger for it and a better person
I'd find someone who would be utterly loyal and over protective
I'd find someone who wouldn't judge me
I'd find someone who'd make me laugh, cry and laugh - in that order
I'd find someone who'd support me in whatever I decided to do, in being whoever I decided to be.
I'd find someone who would always be there for me - regardless.

I'd find a true friend.

So yes, I would be friends with me.

Always x

I've had better nights.

When I suggested we go to the village bonfire and firework display I honestly did not think about how it would affect Mr M.

In hindsight being diagnosed with Combat Stress after a tour of duty in Afghanistan should have been enough for me to guess how he would react to the sounds of the fireworks - sounds very much like gun fire.

Why was I shocked when he hit the deck at the sound of the first one?
Why did I laugh when I looked round and realised what had happened?

Obviously, tonight was not one of my better ideas and Mr M certainly is far from cured!

Give me the strength.......

• To resist the daily urges to drive to the other side of town and beat Cruella with a large stick
• To support Mr M with his metal illness without getting frustrated with him
• To tackle the huge pile of ironing
• To start the Christmas shopping
• To resist *facebook* when I should be doing the ironing
• To blog more often

If the above are not possible, then please give me the strength to open another bottle of wine!!