Ailsa Abraham's Blog: Ailsa Abraham, page 3

Week 67

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When I was officially a Maiden, witchcraft was a banned subject. We knew that the women of my family were all witches working for good or ill, as people deserved, but it was a word which would never be used. I studied under my mother and grandmother and learned to put the case before “Them Upstairs” to let them decide. When a friend’s elderly mother was very ill and on her way out I asked the Great Mother to release her, both for her sake and the son’s. It worked. She died in peace in a couple of days with her boy holding her hand. A good release for both of them.

Similarly “Crone” in most circles meant a nasty, ugly bad-minded old woman. As I approached my sixty years I knew that I was none of the above but officially entering Crone-hood, no longer able to bear children and wise in the ways of healing and witching.

In our village I am still somewhat of a foreigner, even though I live in the old witch’s cottage and do healing and good work amongst my neighbours but I wasn’t born here. I was therefore astonished when the old ladies of the commune came to fetch me to the seats by the river. I was sixty and it was the sixteenth birthday of Claire, one of my honorary grandchildren. In England they would have called it Mayday and her Queen of the May but we knew better – she was Maiden for the day and my own chair was decorated to show that this year was my croning.

Cakes, bread and fabrics were brought to me as I stood next to Claire on the riverbank, celebrating the beginning and ending of life. We laid our hands on them together and blessed them before holding each other close and giving the three kisses of blessing to each other.

I could die now – I had handed on my role.

En garde!

[image error]What you doing, Ginger? Why my hand? OK I cuddle you  – no? Tickle chin? Scratch top of head? Well what DO you want???? Keep pushing my hand on my computer. Normally you push my hand where you want tickled. Want to see your pictures? Read something?  Oh OK I haven’t been online for ages – not had time. Oh – Ooooo – you clever pair you and Piston have written a blog piece. Did Lily help you?

Well, here I am back again and giving you all an update report on what is happening in the Bingergread Cottage. I am taking up my foils against an old adversary with whom I fenced years ago – Count Stroek Van Haemorage. He is an archetypal fencing baddie so you can picture him, I won’t bother with a description.

Foils raised to the salute! En garde!  

So Herr Graf – we meet again. You never attack me directly, do you?

Nein, naturlich. It hurts more to touch one you love. You see them suffer AND you have to care for them. Double win to me! (Salute and heel click)

(Slight flick of foil in recognition) I know your tricks though, Baron. You cannot surprise me again. I am aware that you can change a person’s character completely in a stroke (polite titter from audience)

Ja, Frau Hexe. But you forget that in doing that with your mother I rendered you a great service.

(courteous half- bow in acknowledgement0

True. But that was too obvious. Changing her from “obnoxious” to someone that people described as “so amiable” was just too tempting, wasn’t it? But did you have to turn my four-score years’ husband to a toddler? That was truly cruel.

Ach, I only exaggerated his usual characteristics!

True. But so far?? What have I ever done to you that you land me, a sworn childless, with a toddler who has food fads, throws tantrums and demands what he wants NOW?

But I have saved other surprises for you.

Stop! I beg you. I am becoming used to his tastes having changed diametrically so I don’t know what to offer him but why? I would happily go through all this myself!

Tip of foil under my chin, making me look upwards.

This, Frau Hexe, is your Hell. You were granted a blessing. When you die you will go where you wish with no expiation to serve. You are doing it here.

Epee hits floor as I kneel.

I can go directly to Narnia?

Ja, meine Geliebte – all your penance has been served here. Aslan will await you when you close your eyes.[image error]

Resolves to accept whatever comes and trust in Fate.

Cats call

Hello Auntie’s mates, I am Jin Jurr [image error] wot she hav spoken of. Piston is ritin this for me cos Englitch not my human meow. In the picture I am outside being sad.

Y am I sad you arsk. Well Uncle is much better wot is good fing but Auntie who is Piston’s Mum is not good. She been to vets and tole him she was nearly head explode quean  Cos she is sick with fall asleep illness wot is not a problem for cat but she is hoomung.  She can nod off quicker than us and is tired not just comfy.

She is sad becos she been bizzi lookin after all of us and giving grub in bowls and to Uncle too. I gave her head bumps and cuddles to cheer her up and she went wubbie wubbie on my head with her snout but still sad. She tole me she had managed everything and kept it all going but she had bandund her pals. An she fink her mates not love her no more.

Piston say that this be her pals in this box cos she not used box for long times cept to look up nursing tips. So I am arsking you all to be her mates agen when she contack you. It not her fawlt she been absunt and she cry when she think about how she not got messidges.

Fank you and I go put her paws on this box so she get in sniffin distance of yoo all.

Yours sinpurrly

Jin Jurr

PS Spelling mistakes quite deliberate – love Piston xxx

[image error]Still luv Mummy cuddles

 

 

Farewell to the Dunes

[image error]The day his partner left, Janek threw himself into shifting his other love, his piano, around the cottage. He had no idea why. Was he trying to ensure he wasn’t alone? Did he count the instrument as company? Was it more than his work, a tool, something he played? Maybe more like a colleague?

Eventually the mobile shop arrived and the driver helped him take the piano out onto the dunes in front of the house. That was better! He and his other half were together in the outdoors. The sun was starting to dip when he threw himself onto the seat and began to play all the music which had been shooting through his head as he worked. Tune after tune came out but always to the same words, in different rhythms…

If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed

Janek played through the night, not stopping to eat or sleep, until the rising sun straight on his face blinded him. Throwing away all the pages of music he had notated over the last ten hours, he stood up. The second line had come to him at last. The sun rises in the east, his partner was from Slovakia – due east of the dunes…

Mohammed must go to the mountain

Oh yes I can

In my long and varied career most people have come to the conclusion that I can do just about anything if I put my mind to it…with the sole exception of Badger, my current husband.

He has spent over 20 years working on the basis that I am mentally 6 and totally unable to do anything at all.

Life has taken a hand in this and put him out of action following a stroke. This has lead to him changing his mind because, obviously, if anything needs doing now, there is only me to do it.

Yesterday I proved it again. Now, I have been caravanning with Badger for two decades or more but it has never crossed his mind that apart from emptying the portaloo,[image error] I have changed enormous gas bottles quite regularly. Our cooker in the house kitchen works on bottled gas because in French villages we don’t have mains gas. I have never been allowed to touch the cooker gas bottle even though I am on first-name terms with the machine [image error]

When I was making dinner the gas ran out and I issued one question and two commands…

“Are the gas bottles in the caravan or the outhouse? Sit there. Do NOT come into the kitchen.”

[image error]14kg gas bottles

Finding my favourite adjustable wrench I removed the old bottle and carried it out to the back, putting it into the hatchback so I can replace it on Monday. Fetching in the full one was going to be slightly more awkward as it is heavier and has to be manoeuvred around the back yard, wood store, parked caravan etc. With my usual lateral thinking I fetched the sack truck with which I often move the portaloo when on campsites. [image error] Yes, I am trained to mind my back when lifting heavy things so I tilted the gas bottle forwards, slid the front of the trolley under the raised edge and let it down. Bingo! Bottle now on wheels!

 

I will admit that over an obstacle course it is easier to pull the sack truck than push it so I may have looked odd walking backwards around the backyard but the bottle arrived in the kitchen, was attached to the cooker and life restored to functional normality.

It might just be that a minor miracle has happened – Badger is beginning to see that I am quite capable if left to work things out for myself and not yelled at. Hoorah!

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Long time no whine!

[image error]Nurse Lily taking care of Mum

Hello mumz frenz! This Lily here and we is not on holyday which is wen I ooooosually get to rite blawgs to you.

I not been barking Ello cos I been busy like in the pikshur. Yes, I no it is Dad wot is very sick and had to go stay at vets wot is called Opeetal in human. But he is very floppy Dad and has to stay in basket most of time. Soooooooo – Mum has had to do evwithing. She is now go out walkies person, feed that bloody dog person and where is effincat person. She also doin vet stuff like stick needle in Dad – she do it just like wiff me but in tummy, not on back of  neck. That save nice Kristine comin to home kennul in early mawning.  Mum hop out of basket, get Dad cupoftee and then grab flap and poke him in tummy wiff needle. I try to help by licking sore place but he yell at me. He do dat a lot now.

I no she has bin sad bitch cos she talk to me when we out warkies.  Sometimes she go sniffy and NOW she started talking to self in different voices. I no wot dat mean!!! Mum is riting anuvver book! Whenever she talk like two peoples she is “reh-ear-sing” a conversation.

Dad can get out of basket and go walkies but he has own minder called Vincent wot is fee-zee-oferapy person and we not allowed to go wiff. But Vincent have Enlitch lessons wiff mum after zaminashun wiff Dad and he nice to me. I tort him “ask” last time – and I gave him kissie to show we is frenz.

So Mum hav missed you all and kep sayin to me “Muss tell Faboos that one” then going wet in eyes.

She coming back. I am goingto help her rite so you hear from me too.

Ginge n Pipo send you headbump an I share you all big bone for sending love to mum – she reeli preeshiate it xxxx (dat is liks on paper)

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NWD 2018

I have a notoriously bad memory and live on reminder notes and lists. My friends on Twitter tell me that this is National Writing Day so I should try to hang onto that fact.

So – number One, while keeping up with my nursing and caring duties I must leave reminders all over the shop so I don’t forget!

Waddling from the main bedroom downstairs across to the bathroom to empty his pee-bottle I was tempted to dip in a finger and leave NWD on the mirror but even I am not that bad. However I did notice that the mirrors were filthy and made a mental note to clean them, old- style with vinegar, newspaper and a soft cloth.

While giving my patient his subcutaneous injection in the tummy I was tempted to leave tiny bruises in the shape of the word RITE but then realised that with any luck I wouldn’t have to look at his abdomen again for the rest of the day. Damn! Another good idea ruined.

[image error]Two more spills during the day tempted me to graffiti my way out of my problem but one was from the porta-potti and the rest a somewhat Dali-esque creation on the cooker with spaghetti sauce.    [image error]

Technology, as it always will, came up trumps …………. I wrote the title on my blog and gathered silly and rather mucky ideas as I went about my day’s labours.

Someone up there loves me, however because in our local garage where I am popular because I bake them cakes. there is a five-year old Pug 308 within my price range to replace my adored Myfanwe who died on the way home from Spain last time. Poor “My Van Oui ”

[image error]Myfanwe the Traffic

So that was my writing day – not much different from any other except I didn’t get to play with my chainsaw.

Steamy-punk-lady

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I never found out why she did it. Rumours abounded from Bella wanting the lead part in the school play to me having nicked her boyfriend. All I knew was that from the age of ten I wanted to hide my face. Going to University probably saved my life. I made besties with a handicapped and frankly weird designer who made me her project. Elska took me to visit her family in Holland.

“My uncle will have lots of things to help me with your designs!” Elska squeaked as she bundled me out of the front door, butter dripping down my chin from my unfinished breakfast. She wasn’t kidding. Ton-Ton had a huge messy junk shop which Elska insisted on calling a third-hand place. As I scrambled through piles of jewelry and masks, she ran upstairs calling for someone called “Ta-Ta”

[image error]As I was trying on masks and admiring myself without scars, Elska came galloping down the stairs, followed by a middle-aged lady, both of them loaded down with Victorian clothes.

Ta Ta, I discovered, was Dutch for “Auntie”. She was a retired model and took over my new look. Elska helped me to choose metal gear to go with it and in half an hour we had finished.

“Gott verdomme!” Elska exclaimed, walking around me several times, tweaking bits of hair and cloth. “You have your new YOU!”

TaTa pushed me in front of a mirror and jabbered at me in Dutch. Elska gave me a big hug and translated “Auntie says she is so pleased with your new “secret Lady” style that she is going to give you all the stuff. You don’t have to pay for any of it. But secretly I’ll tell you she loves Van Der Hum so a bottle of that would be a good swap!”

I stared at my reflexion and couldn’t believe it – no shame, no blushing, no desire to hide my face. Just a perfectly ordinary steampunk woman… I hugged them all and remembered the Dutch for “I love you.”

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Just in Time

[image error]Lean on me!

It was only on the 5th of May that I wrote about retiring due to Badger needing nursing see here

Within a week, as if wishing to prove me right, Badger decided to add a severe stroke to his cancer. Fortunately, it was on the left-hand side so only his right side is wonky which, given that he is left-handed, is a blessing.

He was rushed to the local hospital and then transferred to Besançon which is the University one and used for the more urgent cases.

So I face the fact that I was right to retire from writing as I know about nursing stroke patients, my mother had five before the one which killed her. Fortunately, in France we specialize in “home hospitalization” and it is possible to obtain a proper hospital bed and other equipment locally. Also, as I have mentioned many times, we have a team of excellent doctors, nurses and physiotherapists in Champlitte.

All I need now is my patient home so I can start organising everything… it used to be my job, you know!

Heading on …

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As I have announced it to my colleagues, I will make it official.

This is an enormous shout-out to Laurence and Stephanie of Crooked Cat Books and to all my lovely author colleagues with whom I have laughed, cried and banged my head on the wall for a few years now. At the end of June, Attention To Death will disappear and I will no longer be a Cat.

Yes, this is sad but, given how many times I have changed jobs, career-paths and even countries in my life, hardly surprising.

My home life has taken a turn for the “interesting” and I am not going to be able to write (I mean this in the context of “may you live in interesting times” rather than fascinating!!)

I’ve worked in many odd places with strange teams but Crooked Cat has been one of the most adorable. I am leaving with great memories of supportive owners and authors. S and L have been the most patient and helpful publishers and I could not have wished for a better team with whom to work.

It’s better to leave with good memories than stick around until sadness occurs.

My new job of full-time carer and nurse for Badger is proving different and I am sure I will get the hang of it eventually.

I will try to be around and visible on Facebook for those who wish to keep in touch and some of you have my email.

Heigh ho and onto my steed, off into the sunset![image error]