Inside the Bottle: Miss Understood

Oh my, I’ve been quiet of late… again. I must admit it’s probably been nigh on nine months. Maybe it’s longer?

What a flipping time. A time I do not want to repeat.

Earlier in July I handed in my resignation. A lot of factors led me to this point. Seeing and knowing my self worth told me it was the right thing to do.

I felt an enormous amount of relief. I then took 2.5 days leave. On the first full day of leave I sat at the hairdressers, feeling like I had completely run myself into the ground… and after, I basically went home to bed and more or less stayed there for 5 days. Acute sinusitis and a chest infection knocking me for six.

It’s all been a bit of a pain. Talking of pain, I was asked last Tuesday (by a medical professional) what I wanted them to do for my shoulder… huh? Is it that crazy that a woman would like to be able to move her shoulder/arm in order to be able to wear a bra, let alone be free from pain? One of the many stupid questions recently. That and, didn’t you prepare yourself for losing your mother? Really?

I wasn’t prepared at 42 years of age to realise that she was suffering from vascular dementia, seeing her fade before my eyes. So, no.

Nothing “prepares” you for losing a loved one. Never mind eh? I’ll get over it (think that’s the attitude that’s expected.) !!

So I’ve forgotten how to chill out, but I’m trying to do that again. I’ve got a to do list in my head of things I’ve not had the energy to face. Simple things like washing my car, a bit of self TLC, responding to emails, and not fretting about EVERY DAMNED THING.

It has been exhausting.

I also need to pay some attention to whisky… I’m sorry, please forgive me for not having the time to spend enjoying you. I do keep remembering how you teased and toyed with my senses. The first sip of you coating my tongue as I held your liquid in my mouth before swallowing. Feeling you in my mouth, then the moment you slip down my throat and savouring that taste.

I miss that too.

I’ve missed an awful lot to be honest. Sunrises, sunsets, my thinking spot, allowing myself time to get lost in thought. All of it and so much more.

“You know sometimes, I’m so carefree
With a joy that’s hard to hide
Sometimes seems that all I have is worry
And then you’re bound to see my other side
But I’m just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood

If I seem edgy, I want you to know
That I never mean to take it out on you

Life has its problems and I get more
Than my share
But that’s one thing I never mean to do
I don’t mean it

People, don’t you know I’m only human
Don’t you know I have faults like any one
But sometimes I find myself alone regretting
Some little thing; some foolish thing
That I have done
But I’m just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood
Don’t let me be misunderstood
I’m just someone whose intentions are good
Don’t let me be misunderstood
Don’t let me be misunderstood”

Some words from Yusuf (Cat Stevens) that kind of fit the way I’m feeling at the moment.

Anyway, I’ve given myself a month to recuperate. I’ll get back into cooking healthier meals, going for walks and being me. Something I’ve not felt for a while…and that saddens me.

So I ended up cleaning my car last Sunday, (well actually two cars at the same time), finally getting to all those little nooks and crannies and making it lovely and shiny once again. So I can be blamed for the rain.

I’ve found myself wanting to get back to the places that give me fond memories… though some can be bittersweet, there’s always the knowledge that something good happened there. Then a smile plays across my lips and it triggers a thought or a moment. I need more times like that. Regret nothing. Live and love. Be daring. Be brave. Fuck people off occasionally…that can be quite invigorating. Be the worm that turned. That’s not saying that’s a bad thing either, putting yourself and your needs first can be just what you need in order to reset. Well, I think so anyway, goodness knows I’ve had people telling me this for years…

I ended up in Speyside, though the sky was grey, it was nice to be out and about and I had a little chat with the ladies in the VC at Glenfarclas too.

It was nice to recall previous trips and enjoyable moments I’ve had in Speyside over the past few years…that always helps.

Just saw some of the opening of the Commonwealth Games in Brum… have to say that made me smile as I’ve had some lovely times there. Smoggy has talent…

Now I’m on my first full week off, so I’m having some quiet days. Thinking days… then attempting some “normal” next week, and continue looking for a new job too.

That would be nice.

Binner de Fles: Kom op Meisje

There’s a translation as to what the title says. But as I often say “I’m not Google…” I also think this might also be the hardest goodbye. Gulp.

This post has been in my draft folder for months… oh Mum, I miss you….

The last year has been a bit of a blur. Work has kept me busy, maybe too busy on occasion, especially since the end of October, yet despite that, the thoughts are there.

Thoughts & feelings that left me numb. Missing life, missing what truly makes my heart happy. Grieving for Mum. Missing friends… travel. It all. And I want it all back now. Right now.

And so, August. I’m sat here, it’s 1:30am and sleep is escaping me once more. These things happen.. and the worst thing to do if you’re restless is to stay in bed. So I’m sat in the dark on my sofa. I really wish I had a dram in my hand, but I want to go grab a sunrise at 05:53 so a clear head is needed, what else is needed is one of the gorgeous Ibiza sunrises I saw 3 years ago… they were special. And I miss them.

Thankfully I have a day off tomorrow, so I don’t have to concern myself with being asleep for that. I guess I have been preoccupied with the heartbreaking task of clearing the remnants of Mum’s life from what was the family home.

Sadly a lot of things were taken without consent (how some people can live with themselves is beyond me – but Karma will look after that for me.) So Saturday was an early start. Two rooms have been dealt with so far, and another few weekends will see it complete I’m sure.

I know I won’t miss the house itself. Too many ghosts and exhausting memories that rattle round the rooms.

What I will miss is Mum. I guess I was always her little helper. And this is the last time I will clean her house for her. That really broke my flipping heart on Saturday… thankfully I was able to stop at the side of a road on my way home.

Missing the physical contact (hugs) and comfort of loved ones is unimaginably hard… this reminded me again how I crave that contact.

Well it’s Monday evening. It was a lousy start to the day weather wise, so no sunrise today, and after finally getting to sleep till after 3am, sleep was the friend that needed my attention today.

Saturday’s conversations were mixed, some childhood memories, some chat about the here and now… hopes & dreams and my passions (some of them.)

I found photos of Mum I’ve never seen, photos of family I’ve never met. Daft photos that will never see the light of day, and photos that remind me to keep going and never ever give up.

It’s Tuesday now, and despite the mist I decided to “grab me a sunrise”… it was more than worth it as I was rewarded with a view that blurred things out. The normal view a memory. A clean slate. That thought…

It’s Wednesday once again. A couple of weeks have passed It’s early. It’s 6:17 am or thereabouts. Another day of house clearing has passed (last Saturday)…heavy lifting (while those that could lift more easily did sweet FA.)

Memories falling from the pages of photo albums. A shell is starting to emerge from the remnants of 90 years of life. Compassion in every task, yet, a duty to get the job completed. Tick tock. This is the last part of the long goodbye. It started in 2015, early in the year. I tried Mum. I begged and pled, and well… I tried.

I’ve gotta say, that those that truly know me… I’m sure they’ll agree, I’m not one to give up the fight. I’m still waiting !!

I may go quiet. I might walk away, sometimes that’s for my benefit. Not yours. Self protection. Yep, it’s a thing.

Anyway that was Wednesday night’s thought. I eventually fell into a sweet dream that I was ripped from at 6:15am Thursday. Bloody hell, let a woman sleep.

So, it’s Saturday evening once again. I was sat writing this in my thoughts, so grabbed my phone to continue. I know which whisky I’m pouring to finish this off. That’s one thing solved. Just one more Saturday and I can say goodbye to the house one last time. The terrors (touched on in a previous blog) can be boxed up and dumped from my mind as I drive away. No looking back. The other’s can decorate the house and tend the garden…me doing it again would break me. I left the house immaculate time and time again. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Time to look after me, and my heart. Let the thoughts that soothe and thrill me be my guide… start again. Maybe.

Hit the pause button. Let life begin playing again… the songs, the scents, the tastes. ALL OF IT. The moments & memories I protect so fiercely will touch my soul. Draw me out… one thing I need to do is breathe again. Hopefully, and believe me I’ve asked people to keep EVERYTHING crossed, next week might just help with that. I’ve been so touched by thanks and gratitude recently. Words of praise have made me realise my worth once more. Smoggy camaraderie…never mind the bollocks, ha ha. A boost I needed and didn’t think I’d get.

Sunday. Dram still Inside the Bottle. One job that needs doing will be done this day. My garage is nearly back to as it should be…Might as well use the space efficiently eh?

Another weekend has passed, we should have been there doing what’s needed. My mind firmly elsewhere. The distraction would’ve soothed me. Alas… alas. So next Saturday will be the final push.

I went for a walk at the beach. Met a mate. I wish it had been a secluded beach, alone. Just me and the sand, the breeze encouraging the waves to froth and twist… nothing but sea between me and the horizon. The beautiful nothingness of it. No effort. No obstacles.

I’ve fought to escape the weight of the sadness that’s followed and pulled at me for so long…I don’t want it. I never have. Who would want it? Who would cause that sadness too? Add to it? …the way to escape is to walk away. Simple. Ah that everything in life was so simple…though, I do firmly believe life & it’s myriad decisions can be easy. It’s blocking out the bad stuff.

That’s the me that trying to be heard. To be seen. To be accepted.

It’s October 15th now… a cool morning disrupted by being awake from 2-4am. Sleep, please be my friend once more. All those years being on alert listening for Mum have ingrained themselves into my pattern. A pattern that needs breaking.

Another day helping carry out your wishes Mum, at least two of us realise that. A dreadful day. A day of disbelief… a day of silent sorrow.

The car pulled away…

Like a bottle of whisky you’ve opened, enjoyed, savoured and yes, loved. The contents depleting each time you pour a little more. You see the bottom of the bottle coming, then before your eyes, it’s gone. A one off. It’s irreplaceable…

30th November… I cried for you again today, my one time partner in crime. It’s coming up on a year since you slipped away, since Covid-19 stole you from us. I’ll remember the fun times with a smile, I’ll remember your strength. I’ll remember the good and all that you taught me.

I’ll make damn sure 2022 fills me with happiness and laughter, and most importantly more smiles.

So, come on girl. You got this… (note to self.)

The first ever selfie with Mum x

Inside the Bottle: Why I love you…

I’ve had a number of draft versions of Inside the Bottle posts half-written in my draft folder since January, all waiting for me to finish them, or should I say “waiting for me to give them some attention?” C’est la vie.

Probably a mix of both to be honest with you, the words dance in my mind as I fall asleep, I wake knowing I should write something…but then the moment is gone once more. Something crops up, barging in on the thought I was in, robbing me of that moment to just think!!

What is love, really? Is it a feeling, is it being loved, is it loving someone? Some thing?

I think that sometimes the word “love” can be bandied about as being the “in thing”… but to me, love is special. To say “I love you” is such a wonderful thing, yet, I seldom say it unless I feel it in my heart and soul.

Three little words I’m very careful of saying.

I grew up not really knowing what love was, I never had that feeling of being cherished, even wanted. In latter years I’d told someone “I love you…”, their response came back as “I still love you pet”. I’ve questioned that a lot these last few months. Weighing up the past that hangs so heavily around my shoulders…pulling me back, dragging me down.

The realisation that all I remember & imagined from then till now, well, it’s true. Every fear. It’s too late to close the door on the skeletons. They fell to the floor as the questions I asked recently opened the closet doors. They’re all broken now. No putting them back together.

Then as I was falling asleep the other night, it came to me. Why do I love YOU?

I feel this way because even though I’ve seen you sitting there watching me, I’ve passed you by… but you let that be.

You’ve never judged me.

You allow me to indulge in you even if that’s a little indulgence…that’s okay. You let me be me… you have been there for me, waiting.

You’re the one I have turned to in good times. You’ve consoled me in the sad times, if I’ve needed you. You make me feel at ease, you relax me. You soothe my heart & help pull me into happy memories, the ones that make me smile. You make me feel mmmm…

You’ve never once “poked fun at me” for your own pathetic reasons. Your patience with me is unfaltering.. I’ve not dared touch you on occasion, for fear of taking advantage of the way you make me feel… but that’s okay. Nowt wrong with a little restraint eh?

You excite me. You tease me. You remind me of the freshest of days, sunny days, cuddle me close cold days. You’re teasing me right now, softly, I sense you. A delicious scent of vanilla, caramel and hints of chewy fruit and some honey… Oh I could gaze at your legs for hours, the way they hug the sides of the glass, almost reluctant to slip so slowly down the sides.

What’s that? Taste you? Oh go on then… lovely stewed fruits, maybe a little nutty. That’s okay. That lovely sweetness as I swallow, it reminds me of rich caramel sweeties, accompanied with a delicious black coffee. Mmmm, you know I have a soft spot for you. The finish is rich fruit.

You’re not alone, I have a soft spot for a few of you, you all sit there waiting for me to pick you up, give your cork a good tug, and eventually savour what’s in my glass. Perfect!!

Spirit of Yorkshire Distillery

The Spirit of Yorkshire Distillery is located in Hunmanby, North Yorkshire. Looking at the map again I see that they aren’t that far from Scarborough, and definitely not far from where I was brought up on the coast of Smoggyland. An hour and a half to be precise. Definitely a coastline I’m familiar with.

For some details on the distillery, please look here: Spirit of Yorkshire Distillery

The samples I am trying are:

Filey Bay Flagship – 46%vol.
Filey Bay Moscatel Finish – 46%vol.
Filey Bay STR Wine Cask Finish – 46%vol.

First up nosing the Flagship, lovely soft caramel & honey, I can just imagine the taste now. There’s a lovely citrus note too. It’s quite floral in a delicate way.

Lovely mouthfeel, that citrusy note comes to the fore, it’s a little tart. Saying that there’s a lovely soft vanilla that plays on the palate along with an oak bitterness which always translates as strong black tea to me. It’s little peppery on the back of the tongue.

The finish leaves a hint of woody notes and a drizzle of honey…

Next up, the Moscatel finish. Honey comes to the fore again, light, sweet and inviting on the nose. I’m getting notes of orange too. The palate is smooth, lovely orange again, but the sweetness I got on the nose is subdued now, there’s a rich bitter chocolate and I get the flavour of that. The dark chocolate bitterness follows on to the finish with a little kick of spice.

Last sample, the Filey Bay STR finish. Quite a light character again, yet not, there’s a little more here. Delicious hints of red fruit sits against a lovely sweetness…and caramel. Maybe I’m starting to reminisce about fruit Toffos, or showing my age. Delicious vanilla…mmmm. A nice oaky spice on the palate, and it’s fruity, and a little bitter too.

I’ve enjoyed trying these. It’s nice to know that the “barley is grown here in Hunmanby, on our family farm, and we get our water from two sources, sunk deep into the chalk. We’re in control of every stage of the growing and distilling process, from choosing the variety of barley and how it is grown, right through to bottling ourselves at the distillery.” I have to say this too, it’s nice to see & also sample the whiskies that are being brought to us from the English Distilleries. Another one to visit once these pesky lockdowns end !!

The releases are named after Filey Bay which lies on the coast not far from the distillery.

These samples I am trying were part of a Twitter tweet tasting organised by Steve Rush and the Spirit of Yorkshire Distillery…apologies again that I was unable to take part in the live tasting, but I have been looking forward to spending some time with them. These tasting sets are available to buy from the distillery for £27.50. So why not give them a try?

Thanks again Spirit of Yorkshire Distillery and Steve, for the samples.

Inside the Bottle: I Still Love You…

My last blog “there is light, even in the darkest places” feels like a poorly timed title, a mistake.

I’ve sat and thought about it for days now, I posted it on 31 December, I posted it when Mum was still asymptomatic after testing positive for COVID-19, yet the next day she began receiving treatment as she was very poorly, and within 48 hours, we had lost her.

I know I’m grieving. I’m angry. I want to know why being shielded in her little room, that Mum caught it. Why did they then move her (especially as she was asymptomatic) to a floor where others were being treated? Too many questions and what ifs… and I know I need to calm my thoughts and allow my heart to miss her.

Mum was the lady who decided that I was her baby, when two baby girls were left without their tags in cots outside the delivery rooms. She is the woman who taught me to speak properly. She’s the woman who tied red ribbons in my pigtails and gave me sweet girly dresses to wear. Sometimes she even made those dresses too. She taught me how to cook, clean and sew.

I still vividly remember being scooped up into her arms, a washandje over my bleeding mouth, as she ran with a 5 year old me in her arms to the on-call doctor the day I went rather unceremoniously head first through a glass door…and how she had to hold my arms back with my legs trapped between her knees as the doctor stitched my lip up (without a local anaesthetic as he’d had an afternoon brandy.) The time would come for me to care for you.

She also showed me how to be resilient. To keep fighting, and never give up…

I’ve learnt certain things over recent years. Things that made me accept that certain situations were perhaps what they were (mishandled) as it was easier that way. Swept under the carpet. Smile. Carry on…

Her life wasn’t easy. She was born in the Netherlands, growing up during WWII, she told us harrowing tales of seeing childhood classmates being taken away… of having to steal lumps of coal from work sites to help keep her family warm, and living in hunger.

As a young woman she worked for Unilever on a production line, it still makes me smile, and I am while writing this. She said they used to dab some of the concentrated perfume on themselves (even though it was far too strong) and her wolf-whistling at one of the young managers… see, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!!

Mum showed her resilience & strength time and time again. She lost my late father in 2000 after she had nursed him for 13 years following his tragic accident. She lost her two eldest daughter’s too, while she battled two bouts of breast cancer which ravaged her poor body, the scars of what they did to rid her of it… a painful sight, but she focused on making drainage bag covers for the ward, pretty fabrics, a thank you for helping her.

Shortly after her full mastectomy she began to say things that raised concerns in me. Her surgeon assured me it wasn’t the hormonal anti-cancer drugs. After some investigation we found out it was early onset vascular dementia. My heart began to break…

Mum battled on, despite breaking her hip while in hospital which rendered her bedridden… a distant thought may have crossed her mind the times I saw her as a smile spread across her lips. I’ve always maintained we never knew what her level of consciousness was…was she still Mum inside despite the confusion? I always thought so. I still visited in my favourite tights, she always liked them. I’d do her nails and massage her hands. I’d also just sit quietly and hold her hand.

Touch can say so much, give so much…a silent “I’m here, I love you.”

I guard my words, but when I love someone, I tell them…

Mum, I still love you, in my heart I feel your “I still love you too, pet”.

This time we aren’t together to see each other through this sadness. I now know things that I’ve never been able to discuss with you, to tell you I can’t believe you went through that, that it must’ve been so hard. Things you shouldn’t have had to experience in your lifetime. That you were strong…

Rest in peace Mum… I still love you ❤️