As everyone in our department at college is stressed (half the staff are off work with stress related illnesses) we were given interviews with the occupational therapist. Because of my 'extra' problems she recommended that I have Cognitive Behaviour Therapy. I teach psychology and have read about this therapy. Three of my students have had CBT and all agreed it was the most successful treatment they'd tried. One was agoraphobic, one was compulsive obsessive and the other was depressed.
Jon has had CBT with the psychotherapist in prison. He has suggested that I try the therapy. He also suggested that I get another cat as stroking a pet reduces anxiety.
I'm seeing the therapist next Wednesday. Nothing could replace Tiggs.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
Friday, 9 March 2007
Sunday, 4 March 2007
Sunday Lunch
Only slightly hung over we set out for lunch at the wedding venue, Maple Lodge. Dan hadn't seen it before today. He was impressed. The food was indescribably good. We had a peep at the bedrooms. We knew the bride and groom would get a four poster in the Presidential Suite, (apparently Bill Clinton stayed there, but not with Monica) but so do Dan and I in the Blue Room . Perhaps it'll be a second honeymoon.
Kathryn had a list of items to ask the wedding coordinator, about seating arrangements, how many on the top table, flowers, candles and table cloths.
Even in the rain the view from the conservatory, where the reception will be held, was stunning. A real estate company had hired the room and were selling property in Cyprus. They only had one client. We were approached by an eager young salesman. "Sorry, we have a wedding to pay for, you've no chance," I said. He nodded in agreement, and left us to enjoy the view over the lake.
"Well, it's been a very productive weekend," said Kathryn who still had her hair piled up in her wedding curls. Although it had flopped a little overnight, it still looked good. I agreed, kissing her goodbye at the Station. Sorry to see her go, but happy with the results of the weekend. Dan and I drove back home.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
Kathryn had a list of items to ask the wedding coordinator, about seating arrangements, how many on the top table, flowers, candles and table cloths.
Even in the rain the view from the conservatory, where the reception will be held, was stunning. A real estate company had hired the room and were selling property in Cyprus. They only had one client. We were approached by an eager young salesman. "Sorry, we have a wedding to pay for, you've no chance," I said. He nodded in agreement, and left us to enjoy the view over the lake.
"Well, it's been a very productive weekend," said Kathryn who still had her hair piled up in her wedding curls. Although it had flopped a little overnight, it still looked good. I agreed, kissing her goodbye at the Station. Sorry to see her go, but happy with the results of the weekend. Dan and I drove back home.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
Saturday, 3 March 2007
Good Hair Day
Catastrophy! The hairdresser never turned up.
I phoned the hairdresser, Jenny, last night to remind her about the practice wedding hairdo, and she sounded flustered. Obviously she’d forgot. “Sorry about this but can we do it a bit earlier?” she said. “I’m going to a hair competition at Blackpool in the afternoon.
“How much earlier?” I asked alarmed.
“10.30.”
“O.K. but I’ll have to ask Kathryn.” I shouted Kathryn who immediately wanted to cancel the whole thing. I persuaded her that we’d have to start from scratch looking for another hairdresser and it was best to give Jenny a chance. We agreed to 10.30am. It should have been 3.00pm.
On waking this morning, I found a note had been shoved through the letterbox from Jenny saying that she’d been called into work and couldn’t come. My heart sank as I shouted the news to Kathryn. “I knew we should have cancelled last night,” she said impatiently.
“It’s done now, so no use getting upset,” I said trying to calm her down. “Why don’t you try the hairdresser round the corner and see if they can fit you in?” It was a long shot but I thought it worth trying when she'd come all the way from London for this.
She rang but no one was in. We ate our breakfast porridge glumly while discussing the unreliability of mobile hairdressers, and hairdressers generally, as just as you get used to them they leave. At 10.00 Kathryn got through to the salon and, thank God, they fixed her up with an appointment for 1.00 pm with Michel, who was alleged to have won competitions in his ‘hair ups’.
Michel lived up to his reputation and created a stunning hairdo, very Audrey Hepburn, with the hair swept right off Kathryn’s face and curled up on top. Kathryn was delighted. She has naturally curly hair. I like it curly and wanted her to have a curly style for her wedding as I think it looks romantic, but when I saw her with this sleek and sophisticated style, I wanted to cry she looked so lovely.
I had my hair blow dried straight while I was waiting for her, as we were going to my friend’s sixtieth party later that night. We booked Michel for the wedding.
Eva, the beautician arrived on time to do Kathryn’s trial makeup, and did a wonderful job. She works with me at the college, but also does mobile. You could tell Kathryn had makeup on but it was very natural.
Kathryn left her hair up for the sixtieth party. To complement the hair style, she wore a plain black silk shift dress with crystal earrings (a leaving present from her last job) and a crystal necklace left to her by her Nan. Numerous times during the party I’d look up and wondered who the sophisticated young women was. She stood out amongst the crowd. “She looks like visiting royalty.” I said to Dan.
The DJ at the party knew Jon. He was at school with him. He remembered Dan taking him and Jon blackberrying in the country lanes near our house. I couldn’t remember him and neither could Dan, but Jon had a lot of friends. He said he would DJ at Jon’s fortieth party next year, eleven months after his release.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
I phoned the hairdresser, Jenny, last night to remind her about the practice wedding hairdo, and she sounded flustered. Obviously she’d forgot. “Sorry about this but can we do it a bit earlier?” she said. “I’m going to a hair competition at Blackpool in the afternoon.
“How much earlier?” I asked alarmed.
“10.30.”
“O.K. but I’ll have to ask Kathryn.” I shouted Kathryn who immediately wanted to cancel the whole thing. I persuaded her that we’d have to start from scratch looking for another hairdresser and it was best to give Jenny a chance. We agreed to 10.30am. It should have been 3.00pm.
On waking this morning, I found a note had been shoved through the letterbox from Jenny saying that she’d been called into work and couldn’t come. My heart sank as I shouted the news to Kathryn. “I knew we should have cancelled last night,” she said impatiently.
“It’s done now, so no use getting upset,” I said trying to calm her down. “Why don’t you try the hairdresser round the corner and see if they can fit you in?” It was a long shot but I thought it worth trying when she'd come all the way from London for this.
She rang but no one was in. We ate our breakfast porridge glumly while discussing the unreliability of mobile hairdressers, and hairdressers generally, as just as you get used to them they leave. At 10.00 Kathryn got through to the salon and, thank God, they fixed her up with an appointment for 1.00 pm with Michel, who was alleged to have won competitions in his ‘hair ups’.
Michel lived up to his reputation and created a stunning hairdo, very Audrey Hepburn, with the hair swept right off Kathryn’s face and curled up on top. Kathryn was delighted. She has naturally curly hair. I like it curly and wanted her to have a curly style for her wedding as I think it looks romantic, but when I saw her with this sleek and sophisticated style, I wanted to cry she looked so lovely.
I had my hair blow dried straight while I was waiting for her, as we were going to my friend’s sixtieth party later that night. We booked Michel for the wedding.
Eva, the beautician arrived on time to do Kathryn’s trial makeup, and did a wonderful job. She works with me at the college, but also does mobile. You could tell Kathryn had makeup on but it was very natural.
Kathryn left her hair up for the sixtieth party. To complement the hair style, she wore a plain black silk shift dress with crystal earrings (a leaving present from her last job) and a crystal necklace left to her by her Nan. Numerous times during the party I’d look up and wondered who the sophisticated young women was. She stood out amongst the crowd. “She looks like visiting royalty.” I said to Dan.
The DJ at the party knew Jon. He was at school with him. He remembered Dan taking him and Jon blackberrying in the country lanes near our house. I couldn’t remember him and neither could Dan, but Jon had a lot of friends. He said he would DJ at Jon’s fortieth party next year, eleven months after his release.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
Friday, 2 March 2007
Kiss my Hand
We set off early, our first stop the wedding cake shop. On Kathryn’s last visit we found a little café in Frodsham, the windows of which were full of cakes, decorated with Morph like figures, in poses to suit every occasion. The wedding cakes featured drunken bridesmaids and best men tumbling down tiers – all edible.
We sat scoffing toasted teacakes and coffee, flipping through the books, and discussing the colour of the bridesmaids’ dresses with Kim the proprietor. “The icing can be any colour you like, and I can add any novelty ideas.” Kathryn had an idea for the groom figure, but I can’t write it in here in case he reads this blog, as it’s a surprise.
Kathryn ordered a three-tier cake incorporating the two bridesmaids and two best men, but Kim said she could do mothers of the bride and groom on the middle tier, with crooked hats, equally drunk. "I'd like to be on the cake,"I said.
"If you're on it Aaron's mother will have to be on it. She's paying for the cake."
I ordered a Beatles cake for my sixtieth. Kim said, “You’re never sixty.” I like Kim. The cake has a set a drums and the heads of the four Beatles with black edible hair.
Next were the printers in Stockton Heath where we met up with Jayne. They had endless catalogues of invitations, replies and place settings, most of which Kathryn thought over the top, or too expensive. She chose a simple art décor rose. We’ll have to get Aaron’s approval for the design before we order.
Over lunch we chatted about wedding plans, my sixties party and errant sons: Jayne also has one. Not in prison, but the cause of some grief.
Heading back to the car park, we passed a hat shop and just had to call in. I tried on some wonderfully extravagant hats, but I need to have the jacket of my suit with me before I can make a final choice. That didn’t stop me trying them on. “My wedding etiquette book advises that the Mother of the Bride shouldn’t wear too big a hat, as she has to kiss the guests and it might get in the way,” Kathryn said.
“That one would take their eye out,” Jayne said as I admired myself in the mirror.
“I don’t care. I’m having a big hat,” I insisted.“Oh! Just offer them your hand,” Kathryn said.
In the morning Kathryn is having a practice hair and makeup.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
We sat scoffing toasted teacakes and coffee, flipping through the books, and discussing the colour of the bridesmaids’ dresses with Kim the proprietor. “The icing can be any colour you like, and I can add any novelty ideas.” Kathryn had an idea for the groom figure, but I can’t write it in here in case he reads this blog, as it’s a surprise.
Kathryn ordered a three-tier cake incorporating the two bridesmaids and two best men, but Kim said she could do mothers of the bride and groom on the middle tier, with crooked hats, equally drunk. "I'd like to be on the cake,"I said.
"If you're on it Aaron's mother will have to be on it. She's paying for the cake."
I ordered a Beatles cake for my sixtieth. Kim said, “You’re never sixty.” I like Kim. The cake has a set a drums and the heads of the four Beatles with black edible hair.
Next were the printers in Stockton Heath where we met up with Jayne. They had endless catalogues of invitations, replies and place settings, most of which Kathryn thought over the top, or too expensive. She chose a simple art décor rose. We’ll have to get Aaron’s approval for the design before we order.
Over lunch we chatted about wedding plans, my sixties party and errant sons: Jayne also has one. Not in prison, but the cause of some grief.
Heading back to the car park, we passed a hat shop and just had to call in. I tried on some wonderfully extravagant hats, but I need to have the jacket of my suit with me before I can make a final choice. That didn’t stop me trying them on. “My wedding etiquette book advises that the Mother of the Bride shouldn’t wear too big a hat, as she has to kiss the guests and it might get in the way,” Kathryn said.
“That one would take their eye out,” Jayne said as I admired myself in the mirror.
“I don’t care. I’m having a big hat,” I insisted.“Oh! Just offer them your hand,” Kathryn said.
In the morning Kathryn is having a practice hair and makeup.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
Thursday, 1 March 2007
No more calls
During our weekly 5 minute phone call to Jon, via the Embassy in LA, we were cut off twice on Monday. Even when you get the full time, you can’t imagine how quickly that 5 minutes goes. Trying to tell him the most urgent news, sometimes I feel flummoxed and don’t know where to start. Constantly aware of the ticking clock, the pressure clouds my mind. Just as the conversation is starting to flow, the time is up.
This Monday we were told, we couldn’t have any more calls. We're going to look into these companies that provide a phone service for prisoners using a line in the US that the prisoner calls. The call is then transferred to our UK number. It's expensive, but not as much as having him call collect. It will be worth it to hear his voice and know he's OK.
I’m excited because Kathryn is travelling up from London today by train. We will be picking her up at around 10.00pm. We are going to do weddingy things all weekend.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
This Monday we were told, we couldn’t have any more calls. We're going to look into these companies that provide a phone service for prisoners using a line in the US that the prisoner calls. The call is then transferred to our UK number. It's expensive, but not as much as having him call collect. It will be worth it to hear his voice and know he's OK.
I’m excited because Kathryn is travelling up from London today by train. We will be picking her up at around 10.00pm. We are going to do weddingy things all weekend.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
Sunday, 18 February 2007
Crying in my dreams
I've just got back from a week's holiday in Nerja with my friend Jayne who has an apartment there. It was relaxing. We slept ate, slept read and slept again. I thought the bright sunshine would make me feel better which it did, but on returning my spirits began to tumble.
Dan welcomed me with a bunch of roses and carnations, claret red, bought for Valentine's day and two beautiful salmon pink M & S tops. He's such a darling.
I had the most awful dream last night: I was on holiday with a friend - I was holding up a shop with a shotgun - I was in court for shoplifting - I was sitting before a row of Magistrates - they sentenced me to life - I was on a podium pleading with President Bush for my release. All through the dream I was crying. Sobbing my heart out. Because I take anti-depressants I am unable to cry normally. I don't know why. They must dampen down my emotions. The only time I shed tears now is in my dreams.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
Dan welcomed me with a bunch of roses and carnations, claret red, bought for Valentine's day and two beautiful salmon pink M & S tops. He's such a darling.
I had the most awful dream last night: I was on holiday with a friend - I was holding up a shop with a shotgun - I was in court for shoplifting - I was sitting before a row of Magistrates - they sentenced me to life - I was on a podium pleading with President Bush for my release. All through the dream I was crying. Sobbing my heart out. Because I take anti-depressants I am unable to cry normally. I don't know why. They must dampen down my emotions. The only time I shed tears now is in my dreams.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
Saturday, 3 February 2007
Girls' Night
Last night I sat chatting to friends over veggie lasagne and copious amounts of wine. I was asked about how Kathryn’s wedding plans were progressing.
“Why didn’t she postpone the wedding until after Jon’s release in November?” someone asked the stabbing question.
Taking a deep breath, I replied, “When we last visited him, he told us not to plan any big parties or anything special for his release, as it will take him a while to adjust to being on the outside. He will have been in prison for nearly six years when he’s released. If he came to the wedding he’d be the centre of attention and I don’t know if he could handle that.”
“Of course.”
“Yes.”
“It’ll be difficult for him.”
“It’ll be difficult for you all.”
“Is he going to come back to England?”
“Yes, he’ll be deported, so he has no choice.”
Is he going to live with you?”
“Yes, for a while. We’ve got the extension ready for him. I can’t wait to have him home, but it’s scary, very scary,” I reflected sadly.“We’ve told him that we’re going to make him an orange suit, put bars on the windows and not let him out, but he can have his computer so he can type up his own blogs,” I said trying to be cheerful.
“I’ve been reading the blogs and really liked the ones about your visit last October, but it was sad that he didn’t get the parole.”
“Yes, it was, but we got over it," I said not wanting to relate the whole sorry tale. "He looked great. He'd put weight on. He was very positive. He talked a lot about his release in November, that’s what he talked about most.
“What’s he going to do?”
“Be a writer.”
The women were warm and friendly but at times I felt myself separate from them, somehow apart, as though I was an onlooker at the meal, watching and listening. As though they had nothing to do with me.
For a while now I’ve felt myself slipping, slipping into a depression that I need to rescue myself from.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
“Why didn’t she postpone the wedding until after Jon’s release in November?” someone asked the stabbing question.
Taking a deep breath, I replied, “When we last visited him, he told us not to plan any big parties or anything special for his release, as it will take him a while to adjust to being on the outside. He will have been in prison for nearly six years when he’s released. If he came to the wedding he’d be the centre of attention and I don’t know if he could handle that.”
“Of course.”
“Yes.”
“It’ll be difficult for him.”
“It’ll be difficult for you all.”
“Is he going to come back to England?”
“Yes, he’ll be deported, so he has no choice.”
Is he going to live with you?”
“Yes, for a while. We’ve got the extension ready for him. I can’t wait to have him home, but it’s scary, very scary,” I reflected sadly.“We’ve told him that we’re going to make him an orange suit, put bars on the windows and not let him out, but he can have his computer so he can type up his own blogs,” I said trying to be cheerful.
“I’ve been reading the blogs and really liked the ones about your visit last October, but it was sad that he didn’t get the parole.”
“Yes, it was, but we got over it," I said not wanting to relate the whole sorry tale. "He looked great. He'd put weight on. He was very positive. He talked a lot about his release in November, that’s what he talked about most.
“What’s he going to do?”
“Be a writer.”
The women were warm and friendly but at times I felt myself separate from them, somehow apart, as though I was an onlooker at the meal, watching and listening. As though they had nothing to do with me.
For a while now I’ve felt myself slipping, slipping into a depression that I need to rescue myself from.
Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood
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