Don't call it nosh if it's posh!

Well I have been very busy, I am feeling very optimistic and upbeat.

The children in Ireland have contacted me to say they are fine and wish to remain with their Dad in Dublin. It was not pleasant the way he went about it, like a thief in the night, I wish that I could have seen them before they went. I believe in freedom, if they wanted to go, then fine but was I not entitled to a discussion with the kids at least? - I don't know how influenced they have been, but at least I know they are safe now.

All day people have been calling to my house from Freecycle and removing my possessions, the house is a mass of boxes.
I have been cataloguing my four thousand books into numbered boxes and putting them into a proper system, so finding them will be easier when they are sold (I am an Internet book dealer), I'm on box 41 with about 1,000 books to go... it's laborious and dull but well worth it. There were many errors in my inventory and expensive books that were not even listed online- it is a massive stock check that should have been done along time ago!

Tonight Angela is taking me to one of the most exclusive restaurants in Cheshire, to celebrate our new life together. I am so head over heels in love with her, I had forgotten what happiness felt like, I can feel a glow in my flesh, like a warm radiation. It's been a long time since I felt a surge of joy. Too long.

Anyway a new chapter will begin, with two central characters, in my dark hours I lived vicariously through her, turning to her issues in order to ignore my own problems. I intend these new times to be a healing time for love and the building of bridges.

An Open Letter

Dear Angela,

Well this is it.... a future I never thought possible and didn't even bother hoping for. Us living together, waking up everyday, me tidying up after you, you crazy untidy floozie! And I swam to you through the terrible tears of having the kids taken without my consent. Hard hard times eh hun?... but a time for reckoning too.

We met as two people who had been really disappointed and who were reluctant to break the fearful cycle with the words "I love you". We pussyfooted around... but couldn't keep apart, despite a bleak vision of not being together, we fought for it. You thought you had once married the most beautiful girl in the world who accepted your femme nature.... not to be - sadly she couldn't deal with it. I thought after ten years me and the Captain were going to grow old together, I loved him but he loved me less. Thank God Angela that we met and started to mend each other.

I am so sad that my bright meteorite Judy vanished into a silent distant horizon and that a friendship is impossible. But perhaps we both knew that I would have married her/him if he had not already been married. You knew I loved her. We met in the wrong dimension and Angela we built a friendship so strong it became a bond strong enough to build a future on. That's my life, happy -sad- happy- sad. Thank you Angela for wanting me to see clearly what I refused to see.

I am taking stock
A new era begins.
I wish I knew where the kids were so we could talk - I have had enough messages to know they are ok but I need to speak to them myself.
Am I permitted real happiness?
Angela I hope that we can heal our lives and smile again.

I'm stone in love with you and no bullies, doubters, or bigots will stop me from being free with you.
There have been times of slow meandering waters that shaped my Self, there have been wild times like riding white water... I don't know how I survived...all these rivers swept me to you, I will make you happy, in still waters we will remember, I have no regrets.
xxx
Tillie

Chantra

He's mad that trusts in :
the tameness of a thug,
the boldness of a beer,
or a whore's oath,
love all
trust few
For what trust in these times
Fuck all the slanderers and grasses
Blood will have blood
Let the c***s have a taste of their own toxic poison
Now Gods stand up for bastards
and us queers are raging!!
and let all that is destined to happen just happen

(Johnny Animal)

whispers

May I say quietly to you
as you lie in my arms
tall and satinned
long limbed
whilst the moonlight on the snowy lawn
lights my study
the books bear witness
to us
as queer women.
I run my fingertips over your spine
then theirs
may I say quietly to you
"Lie down"
that "Angel, the sacrifices hurt me
but the boons of love make me rejoice"
closing my eyes just breathing
less of you is more of you
We are inside looking out
I will say quietly to you
"thank you Chikka
for our beautiful contradiction"

Bittersweet

I loathe being maudlin, it's a trait I remain wary of. I'm a stoic public school girl, it's alien for me to say "I feel sad"... I'm more likely to say "Let's get on with it, it can only get better". My upper lip is so stiff it's becoming a shelved smile.

It's not unusual, to close your eyes and dream a dream, to paint a fantasy in the cave of your mind, articulate perfect moments, want happiness, what ever you thought happiness was... When I was alone in Cheshire with the kids, skint, I would habitually close my eyes and drift to my silked Angela in her penthouse, my sanctuary from Gas Bills, a persistant lawn, dysfunctional lightbulbs, I would want to be with her and be warm,and caccooned. It was briefly possible, it seemed futureless. I was wrong... but I wanted to be patient and not have God hand me my fantasy with a scarlet letter.

Never was love so bittersweet. My family is scattered and love is going to remould itself into something I never fantasised of, something I never thought possible.

Salt Spiked Honey

I have been known to tell amusing anecdotes:
Now they slip my mind

In my rather chaotic book-stacked study, alive with jittery monochrome cats, JOhnny Animal pats me on the head, I can smell his testosterone, he says
"Don't look so pensive Tillie, interesting lives are often bittersweet.
Pain can illuminate a path to peace, you would not love so strongly if your losses had not been felt so profoundly"
He is a Buddha.
My entire situation, not knowing where the kids are, or how they feel, is a minefield of dread and self doubt. it's a horrible mental process akin to untangling living threads like coiling parasites, tangled like wool in the emotional archipeligo of my mind.
How the Hell did it come to this?

I am beng offered the fulfillment of dreams I daren't not envisage on the back of guilt and remorse, like planting flower beds on landfill.#

Childer me

One grey Friday
the black eyed woman
with clever words
and deflated hopes
lies on a bed
on a mound
of her absent children's clothes
and crying
from her toes
her chakra's sodden soaked rags
her best efforts stuffed into bin bags
And only Angels can hold her strong
her tears a salve to ease her
into a salted mollasses tomorrow
of bittersweet sighs
Where all pleasures are sensory
Ah, Garlic, Rosemary
for memories
Smooth smooth pearls
Sad sad melodies.
Beautiful beautiful hope
Yes beautiful beautiful hope
like s Spring born willow