What is reality?

What indeed. I believe I am rooted in the real world.Got told recently that I should start "believing is seeing" rather than my usual "show me the evidence".
Now, I am a believer in the religious sense of the world and I do have a very open mind but I cant be doing with namby pamby ,oooohhhh that must be a sign..ers, who constantly try and tell me how much I am missing.

Just for the record......if and when I reach your level of Nirvana I will let you know!
In the meantime...leave me the **** alone to get there in my own time.Ok?

I am happy with myself and my life.I dont always make good choices but then who does?

Enough of this self reflection.Dont suppose anyone is reading anyway so it doesnt matter.

Right, a share. Someone very close to me is having a mental "episode".Im loathe to call it a breakdown because they are sky high right now and hopefully will not come down the other side. They are, however, totally self obsessed and unwilling to take any criticisms of their point of view so its difficult .Also, there is no "dialogue" just a series of long talking "at you"s. I suppose Im putting this on here to get it off my chest and not have to explain or justify.
Pray God....and I have been.....they get back to reality and down to Earth soon.
It aint that bad!!

An update on the aged uncle...and..M!!

The aged uncle seems to be deteriorating quickly.Hes 99 now so I suppose its only to be expected.
The conversation is usually about money  that belongs to Poland from the war. He is convinced that Hillingdon hospital holds the answer to the Polish money. 
The story goes that when he was there, having a hip replacement many years ago, he awoke to find Mafiosa by his bedside, about to kill him.
Then , the chief honcho appeared at the door and said
"No, not him.He helped us in the war."
And thus the " Ms" disappeared.
Uncle.."You must take me to the hospital Lynda"
Me.."Who do you want to see?"
Uncle.."I will know him when I get there and he will know me."
Me..."Why do we need to go?"
Uncle..."Because there is 8 Billion of Polands money there.They will give it to me.They know me."
And so it continues every visit.
More to follow later.

The aged relative.. also occasionally known as. "The Polish Problem"

Today was to be the trip to see the newly installed gravestone surround for my Auntie Elsie.

I had purchased roses for him (the aged uncle) and we arrived at his flat at 9.45.

He was ready except for his outdoor clothes.

He was quite determined to try and walk as much as possible and steadfastly pushed his mobile frame/mini wheelchair ahead of him.

He affectionately calls it the "Spyder".

It was bloody muddy and windy but we made it to the grave with the odd bit of resting for breath.

A few tears, thats natural, and he liked the stone.

Starting to make our way back, he uttered the words every mother dreads

"I need a wee wee"

In the middle of Denham churchyard, no shelter.

Fortunately no people except golfers either so it was managed. I did watch to see where he aimed because we had to get him and the wheely thing back in the car after!

Anyway, all was well and he was very grateful, bless him.

As I was leaving , he conspiratorially whispered to me that

"Sex is bad for you. If I made babies now it would kill me"

At 98 Im not bloody surprised!

I told him I would give it up immediately.

The arrival of the Daewoos

"I do not want any more animals now that the guinea pigs have gone."

I distinctly remember saying those very words.

I did not imagine them.

So, what happens last week?

The arrival of four new females in the house.

(This is something I dont object to having lived with testosterone overload for many years you understand.)

However, the aforementioned females are Degus, little creatures with squirrel faces and grey ratty bodies.

That may sound unappealing to some but they really are very sweeT.

Just, NOT MORE ANIMALS THAT WILL EVENTUALLY BECOME MY PROBLEM!!

It was the eldest, 25 years old, who came home with them.

"Its ok mum, my girlfriend and I will take care of them."

His girlfriend and he are going to Egypt, together, in a few weeks time.

"Taking them with you are you?!" I asked, in exasperation.

The Box

The pet sat in contemplation.
It had never been happy in boxes.
It liked to live and breath and eat and think outside the box always.
The way to the box had been wonderful and it had been lead there, even leading the way itself, more than willingly. It had been unaware that a box was what lay ahead of it .
The master was so kind and very interesting.The master was also a very busy person with many demands made.
The master spoke with reassuring words and soothing tones that really had fired up the creatures enthusiasm and it had gone willingly.
Willingly but with a little apprehension because it did not know the way very well.
It had been well fed on the way and understood that the master had many pets
and that it was a special pet so that was ok. It never ever wanted more than one master.
It reached the box and was not unhappy with it.It felt comfortable and it had plenty to keep itself occupied.

Soon the masters soothing words became fewer and the food supply dwindled to crumbs dropped through the airholes in the lid. The lid was on firmly and there was a keyhole but no key.
The creature was well cared for but felt it position was insecure. Should it whine and scratch the box to get attention? It had always been an impatient, overenthusiastic creature.

No, that wasnt the creatures way.It would wait and see.
One day, it was told that its box was one of many. It knew this already but it wanted to know if the other boxes were also special.

It felt something pressing against its side , under its fur.
It was a key!
Oh , yes, now it remembered.
Never leave the key to your happiness in someone elses pocket.
Keep it in your own.
The creature was glad it had done this.
It had the key.
It would still wait...but now it had found the key.

Infinitives split with gay abandon

Apologies to those of you to whom the splitting of the aforesaid infinitives is a treasonable offence.
:))

Laminar Air Flow cabinets and the perils of alcohol

Poor cousin W. (Another pseudonym)
He had just got to grips with having a new boss when he was asked to take a new co worker round with him and show him the ropes.
Show him the ropes.
This was not a euphemism for a strange new sexual position you understand but a genuine request that the man, who happened to be Dutch ,which may be relevant, (you will see later) could see how things were done and "network ".
Perhaps with hindsight, "show him the ropes" was a poorly chosen expression which in itself got the poor Dutchman excited.
Anyway, cousin W diligently did his best and took Dutch to a shindig , social soiree whatever , at which there were to be some very big knobs (DEFINITELY not a euphemism).
The story goes that all present were imbibing alcohol and cousin W left Dutch to his own devices (clearly a soon to be discovered dreadful error).
Cousin W returned to find Dutch hovering around a table at which sat an attractive but obviously flustered lady who was trying to attract the attention of her male escort.
It would seem that Dutch introduced himself to said lady with the opening gambit that he would like to "F**k her in a Laminar Airflow Cabinet", the convention being about such devices.
The lady , who was unused to such forwardness , was not amused.
Turns out later, she was the managing director.
Oh Joy!
Now, dear cousin W is sincerely hoping that Dutch will have tendered his resignation over Christmas as the aforementioned lady will have no contact from Dutch even to allow an apology.
I think she should have made light of it , perhaps saying" lets get the hors d'ouvres out of the way and then we'll see"
But who am I to say.
Poor poor cousin W.
But he should console himself with the fact that the Flying Dutchman has discovered an entirely new and unique use for the Cabinet .
Surely this is a good marketing point?
They are , after all, well known for their sterility.