well yet again it has been a while since I was last in my Deviant account. Time passes so quickly these days!
I was flat out working on a project with my boss for a tour recently and then the star up and died 2 month's of prep work down the swanny. My eldest son has been home on leave from Afghanistan and gone back again for the last part of his tour. I am praying to the god's that he remains safe and well till the end. My daughter has now completed her G.C.S.E's, left school and had her prom, currently she is busy preparing for college in September and working over the summer to earn some money to help pay for all the stuff she needs!As for the youngest he is still dreaming of becoming a Zoo Keeper when he leaves school next year and drifting on the tides of life (but he will get there in the end.
Both my PC and my Laptop died which has madde internet and working very difficult and a shortage of funds meant replacing was impossable, so I have waited till my dear friend who also happens to own and run a PC repair and sales shop could help and at least ; although still laptop less I do now have an almost functioning tower!
Yay!! *chuckle*
well I am off to post some photos
Adieu to one and all.

Today marks the second week of my eldest son's transfer from the relative saftey of camp Bastion in Afghanistan to Kajacki (appologies for the spelling - Dyslexia/ Dyspraxia is a curse !). When he rang and broke the news I was needless to say concerned, I had cacooned myself in the relatively safe bubble of "If he is in the main base he will be safer!"...Please note the word safe will appear a lot in this journal entry *chuckle*.
I know everyone loves their children and all children are precious,but for me Nigel is a son in a 100,000,000. He, like his siblings has had a tough upbringing, with a father who suffers from alcahol dependancy and verbally violent mood swings. His rise from this situation is astounding and something of which I am extremley proud. At school he suffered from his struggle with Dyspraxia; a condition which i have also struggled with all my life, and was a shy quiet child who was unmercilessly bullied, not only at home by his father but also at school by his peers. At 16 he had made a concious decision that he wanted to be a paramedic, and having been made aware he would not be able to do this untill he was 21 he made the decision that he would try to enter the armed forces as a medic, he went to colledge for a year and then made his first attempt, he was however unsuccessfull; many would have given up, but not Nigel. He got himself a job working in our local Matalan and tried again (all this time helping on his meger wages to support his brother and sister).Just before his 18th Birthday he made his second attempt and was accepted. I was so proud then and even more so after several set backs and a back squadding; many phone calls where he wanted to give up but still kept his faith. He finally passed out of basic training at Winchester almost four years ago. He has been stationd in Germany for a little over 2 years now and has recently been posted to Afghanistan. Through out his time in the army he has continued to support me and his siblings in a way I have never heard another parent say their child would or could. I am Proud to have such an amazing man for a son, he is just my Angel, my devestaion if anything were to happen to him would be limitless, (yes I know this would be true for any parent, my brother lost a child aged just 18 months I have seen the havock losing a child causes)but for me Nigel is a shining light in a dark world that is all to full of hatred and evil.
He remains to me my hero and I pray every day for his safe returne to us.

I have been writing poetry for some years now,, but am never fully comfotable with publishing it...However last night I wrote a poem I am truely proud of...so I am taking the bull by the horn's so to speak and posting it here in my journal.

30th March 2009 Tired Less Yoyo.


Tired brain, full head awash with random thought process.
Deep Disturbia yoyo, emotional rollercoaster.
Cross my heart hope to die, seeing tear drops in my minds eye,
Walking backwards to and fro.
Pace a apace backwards flow.

Standing static rudimentary feeling battering inside my empty head yet;
So full of shit it aches to breaking point.
What is breaking point?
In this up and down mesmeric dance of shadows.
Forward feelings, frustrated and inane.

Words spoken, retracted and spoken again,
Swirling amidst a troubled mind.
Seeking rest in a quiet brooding forest
Surrounded by a tissue of lies.
Yet silence is just out of reach.

Faking falsehood haunts my waking day, yet sleep eludes the night, stretching endlessly back into morning.
Month on month.
Turning back at the eleventh hour, history repeating.
Glancing body blows, fleeting moment of tired bloodshot eyes, as last remembered yearly on this day.

Promises made and broken, heartfelt plea’s of emotion.
Lost in a battalion of crashing wind and torrential rain, breaking in my blistered mind.
Belied, belittled and bewildered.
Caution fled.
I believed, I loved and lost in so many ways.

Time passing ill thought and ill received, a cacophony of voices tricking me skyward, and a barrage of others pushing into the depths of despair.

The Ride started.
The up’s and down’s mere markers in the shifting sand of doomed time.
The end will follow as predictable as infinity.

Still the story plays on.
Like a puppet dangled and strangled on a cross of wood and strings, controlled by another’s thoughtless actions.
The pay off of promise dying daily in the slurry of spineless indecision, and the making of foolish choices.



Who knows where it will end?
Not I for my aching head has given up the fight for living regardless.
Surrounded by the detritus of ghostly shifting shapes.
Trying and flying in the face of adversity a lost and battle scared shroud of hopeless denial.

Choices I could, and should have made,
Awash and doom filled in so many ways that do not fully function.
No end is better than the bitter taste of failure, sorrow and regret.
Yet I craved success and joyous life of promises, hope and love once pledged.




Kath
31/03/2009

Gradually I am getting back to doing the things I love. Sunday (Mothers Day) was difficult as my number one son was flown out to Afghanistan. I had one of those parent Psycho moments, where I was convinced that Sunday was the day. As it turned out I was correct and he rang me on Monday which was wonderfull. For the uninitiated my eldest son is a class one medic in the armed forces (i would post one of the photos I have of his pass off parade, but I feel given his current posting and the fact that everyone including those who would do him and his collegues harm have intenet access, that it would be foolish)despite the fact I have strong views about the motivaton for military presance in Afghanistan I am still very proud of my son and will always be proud of him. For nearly 22 years now he has been my rock and I miss him dreadfully.
so I am contenting my self filling my days with my other children (my daughter currently mid G.C.S.E's) my photography and art, my wonderful, george-ous man and being back P/A' ing for Caroline, which I love.

It has been just over a year since I closed all my internet pages (this one included ) and walked away from internet life.Time had come to grow up. I entered the world of drudgery the 9 - 5 rat race and I started to die inside. after just over 8 months of "gainful" employment I lost the will to live told the company I worked for to stick it and left. This came on the back of my father dying over in Brazil, he had a massive stroke and hung on in a coma for over a month. My heart broke; for although I had never had a very good relationship with my dad in the last 5 years we had become quite close again and reached a level of understanding. Thats not to say I never loved him , because I did deeply, thats just to say he never understood how shittily he treated me.
So some time has past since then and I have just started to find my feet again, out of this was born my decision to do what i like doing and get back yo using my Deviant art (and other spaces). So the Rebel returns with some new photos and an even newer attitude.