A day that is forever etched in my mind

November 30th is a day that will forever be etched in my mind, for today is the 8th anniversary of my mothers death. Her name was Constance Amy Austin and she was born on December 19th 1920 in the east end of London to the sound of bow bells - a true cockney and therefore a dying breed.

My mother was a truly unique woman - who faced much adversity in her not quite 79 years. She was the daughter of a greengrocer, and the youngest of nine surviving children. In those days childhood diseases could still be fatal as inoculations had not yet been discovered. During the war my mother worked in an munitions factory and later as a bus conductress when the dust began to affect her health. Officially at just 4 feet 11 1/2 inches she was half an inch too short, but they took her anyway, as it was wartime and they needed all the help they could get. When the war was over she started a career in ladies tailoring that she was very good at - placing the garments on to the dummies to check that they fitted correctly.

As the youngest of nine and the last to leave home, when her own mother became ill during the Great Smog it fell to her to look after her, which she did for several years until my grandmothers death. She then went to live with her sister in Essex and this is how she met my father, for he also lived in Barking with his son from his first wife (she had left him holding the baby). You could say that one day their eyes met on a crowded train. He offered her his seat, she took one look at his Frank Sinatra blue eyes and was smitten. Six months later they were married. Two years later my brother arrived, followed six years later by my sister, and then in 1965 I was born. The rest as they say is history.

Mum had been ill for a while when we received the call from the hospital to say that she had been taken in - she was very overweight and had various other health problems to do with her heart and her breathing. Less than a week later though she died - her time was up.

I remember going to see her the night before - I was working for a fitted kitchen company at the time and did not get home until 6pm, so it was a bit of dash to get there and back, since visiting was only until 8pm. All we managed then was about 15 minutes with her. Still I am grateful for the time that we had. I took one look at her sunken, hollow eyes and listened to her laboured breathing and somehow knew that this would be her last night and I would not see her alive again. Just as I left then I leaned towards her and whispered in her ear 'I love you Mum, and thank you for everything'. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze and said 'I know darling, and I love you too'. Then we had to leave.

We were waiting all night it seems for the phone call to come and it finally did at around 6.30am. The hospital told us to get there as quickly as possible, and so we dashed there as quickly as we could, stopping just for a quick cup of tea and to get dressed. On the way there, driving past the slip road to the A3, the sun was just coming up and as we rounded the bend in the road and saw the sunrise we both knew that she had gone.

Sure enough when we arrived the hospital told us the news. My sister, who lived nearer than we did, had been with her at the end, which we had missed by around 10 minutes - like I said at the precise moment that the sun had risen. We then had to wait for our brother and his then wife, and my sister's boyfriend to arrive.

Then we had the business of registering the death, arranging the funeral and visiting the family solicitor about the will. The funeral was I recall on December 9th, just over a week later. The day before, my partner picked me up from work early so that we could go to see her in the chapel of rest. It was raining as we walked up the hill and we sat in the chapel for what seemed like an age listening to the rain as it pattered against the skylight saying a silent goodbye. It was a very poignant moment and a beautiful way to say goodbye. The funeral the following day was no less beautiful in its own way, and many tears were shed by not only myself, but also my neice and two nephews, who at the time were just young teenagers. They loved their grandmother very much as she was the only one they had - thier Mum's Mum died when they were very young, before the youngest was born at all.

After that my life changed completely, since the money that Dad had left to Mum when he died, found its way to my siblings and I, split three ways. It was this that enabled me to give up work and eventually start to write my book. I like to think that I have not let them down, and if they are looking down on me now, they would both be very proud.

Idiot drivers - grrr!

I have had the absolute morning from hell, all because some idiot drove too fast and crashed his car into a roundabout, and although I am okay now, I was not a happy bunny.

I asked for today off from work since some time ago, as the college where I do occasional work for as an exam invigilator asked me to inviligate, presumably for some retakes or something. I had to be there at 8am to help get the room ready for the exam to start at 9am. I left then at 7am this morning to get through the traffic.

Everything was fine until I got halfway down the A3. The traffic was absolutely horrendous and back to back. It took me half an hour to move about 2 miles to the next junction! It then came on the radio that the A3 was shut northbound past that point due to an accident. Luckily I know this area well since we used to live not that far away. I came off the A3 then at the next side turning and tried to get through the back doubles to the next junction. That by itself took around 15 minutes since everyone else had the same idea.

When I did get back to the slip road than leads past the A3 imagine my surprise to find that the road was clear and the traffic flowing freely. Why had the radio said the road was shut?

I finally got to the college by 8.30 only to find there was nowhere to park - the road I usually go in was full to the brim and everywhere else was yellow lines or permits only. After driving around for 20 minutes and ending up somewhere near the Common I turned round and went to Tescos. I had been planning to go there after work anyway.

Walking round I found that the rice milk we buy was on offer - 2 for £2. The shelf though was empty so I asked someone. I don't know was the reply, this isn't my section, go to customer services. They had a queue 10 minute long and when I finally got to the front they said it wasn't even on their system!

Back to milk aisle then I went and found someone who did work in that section. Yes, they were out of stock, and if I wanted them to give me a voucher for money off next week, by which time the offer is finished, you guessed - go to customer services!

I then got to the checkout and found that I had spent 50 pence short of the £50 to get 5p a litre off petrol. Normally I would grab some sweets or something, but they had moved them to the other side of the store, and there was a queue behind me ... I went upstairs then to Starbucks and asked them for the strongest cup of caffeinated tea they had!

What a morning then. I have lost over £30 in wages because of this and am not happy. All because some stupid ***** got drunk and crashed his car into the roundabout!

Dream on

At the moment it seems that all Coran and I want to do is eat and sleep - we do not seem to have the energy for much more than this at all. This is I feel just another symptom of the major physical for Coran, but much more emotional for me, clearing that we are both experiencing.

Last night the dreams were particularly vivid - I was dreaming about the holocaust. I do not of course have to go into details as to what this was, as I don't think (and sincerely hope) that there is not a man, woman or child alive who does not know at least a little about this. They were though lining the men and women up into seperate groups - those who would live and those who would die. I remember one man very clearly - two in man, one of them was a Ukrainian musician, and the other a Gypsy. Both were led to beleieve that they were okay, as they were young, fit and capable of work, but at the last moment they both changed to the other group who were to die, and led away, a look of abject terror in their eyes.

It brought to mind my very first trip to Israel, in April 1993. One of the many places that we went to was the Musuem of the Holocaust on the Mount of Remembrance in Jerusalem. We were led into this darkened room with no lights, and just an illuminated handrail with which to guide us round the room. On the ceiling were one million stars - one for each child that died. I left that room with tears streaming down my face.

I have often wondered if in a past, or perhaps even parallel life, I was somehow involved. When I was new to the spiritual path, I became interested in past lives, as one often does and attended a workshop with Dick Sutphen a past life guru, who works together with his wife, Tara. Nothing spectacular happened, but one thing has stayed with me. Right at th beginning he played some sounds from a tape recorder - one of these was of a train sounding its whistle as it raced through a tunnel. This instilled in me the most abject terror that I think I am have ever experienced, where every hair on my body stood on end. I was rooted to my chair, as I had images of a train pulling into what I immediately recognised as a concentration camp. Later on, when the film Schindlers List was released, I recognised it as Auschwitz. I ahd the feeling that I may have been a small boy, who became seperated from his parents - but who knows.

Whatever it was about, this dream has left me with lasting impressions.

Exorcising a few ghosts

I think I have successfuly exorcised whatever ghosts I was supposed to be exorcising this weekend regarding my ex employers. It really is a funny old world. Just when you think you have dealt with something, it comes back to whip you on the backside. I thought actually I had dealt with the whole thing years ago. I thought about them both from time to time, as one does, but not with anger or resentment, just curiosity really. I even saw Mr C Senior or his wife, once or twice, the last time when they came through my check out at the supermarket where I used to work. This must have been at least two years ago, since I left there in August 2005. He did seem a bit vague then come to think of it.

I had a long chat this morning though with the mother in law (shop owners Mum) and managed to put a few ghosts to bed. I said to her how strange it was seeing them all again, and did she realise that I actually used to work for the C's. She didn't, as it was a long time ago, when her daughter and Mr C Junior had just met. They kept splitting up and getting back together again, but basically I think did love each other. It was just that they were a lot younger then without the same responsbilities. It is what a lot of young couples do.

They have been married now for four years and have a thirteen year old daughter. She also has a fifteen year old daughter from her first husband. They have obviously been through a lot together in that time, as couples do. That is normal and to be expected. Apparently Mr C Senior has been quite ill in recent years (he is certainly not the fit and active mid to late 50's gentleman that I knew and worked for all those years), so he was not ignorng me, but probably genuinely didn't realise who I was.

That put things into perspective, since I realised that I was staying angry with an old and not very well man, and well, it was all water under the bridge, and I really did have to move on and put this behind me. Stop seeing the daugher in law as well as being married to my ex boss (or the son of), but as an intelligent and charismatic young woman who runs a very successful business and should be applauded for that at having done so well, despite health problems of her own and a broken marriage. So that is what I endeavoured to do, and as a result, I actually had a really good day and a great laugh.

A face from the past

I had a strange but interesting day today at a complimentary health fair I had stall at to try and sell some books. In fact, it started really on Friday night when we were setting up.

A new new age shop has recently opened in the village where the fair took place. The lady who runs the shop was one of the exhibitors at the festival both today and tomorrow. My partner and I (my partner is one of the Trustees for the building in which the fair took place) went into the shop a few weeks ago to introduce ourselves and finalise the arrangements for setting up. I didn't recognise her, so imagine my surprise when she recognised me and introduced herself as the wife of my ex boss.

I worked for his fathers company for six years from 1984 - 1990 as a Telex Operator. Well actually I worked for four years as a Telex Operator, based at the father's house, and then for a further two years at the son's (her husbands) house after the business moved premises. They ran a Telex Bureau which had some interesting clients - among them the Conservative MP David Howell, the Leonard Cheshire Foundation, and handbag company Tula Bags. This part of the company though ceased trading in 1988, and they opened up a new telex switching business with clients predominantly in Saudi Arabia. I worked as a Communications Supervisor for this part of the company from 1988 to 1990, working Saturdays and Sundays from 8am to 8pm (7am to 7pm in winter) initially from the son's house, and later from a shop a few miles away.

On July 1st 1990, I went on holiday to Canada for three weeks, and when I came back, I stepped out of the taxi and opened the front door to be greeted by my mother. I can still remember the words that she said, "Hello darling, did you have a nice holiday" she said. "By the way, your boss rang, the company has gone bankrupt and you no longer have a job. Ring him when you get over the shock". What a homecoming!

Ring him though I did, though little good it did me. I later found out, when I tried to sign on that in all the six years that I had worked for him he had paid neither my National Insurance or Income Tax, despite the fact that he taken it from my pay slips. I took months for me to sort that out, and I clearly remember several conversations with the investigation team at the local Tax Office where they told me that they went to the father (Mr C's) house and a man answering his description answered the door and told them that Mr C has emigrated. Of course, because they had never met him before, they could not prove that it was him, and so as far as I know, he got away with it. After about a year I heard back from the Inland Revenue to say that they had been unable to trace his whereabouts, and so had taken both my Tax and National Insurance for those six years as paid. Still, it was huge worry while it was all going on.

After I left his company anyway, I obtained a place at college to study travel and tourism. Most of the other students were much younger than I was (sixteen and seventeen as opposed to my twenty five) and so I did not really fit in. I would not say that I was actually bullied, but the girls did their best for the most part, to ignore me, and my life was then, less than pleasant. I managed to make one friend, a Spanish girl, and we were close for a while. She was married to a American-Italian business banker. After she left college she went back to Spain, as she was homesick, and so we lost touch.

The Gulf War put paid to any plans I might have had for a career in the travel industry, that and the age discrimination, which at that time was rife within the travel business. You see, all they were interested in was trainees who were eligible for youth training schemes, and young college graduates that they could mould to their company ethos. I was neither of these, and so didn't get a look in, even though by the time I was twenty five I had travelled half way round the world on my own, and even though I had already worked in an office. None of that counted.

I then drifted into retail, as it seemed the easiest and most flexible thing to do. By then telex machines were obsolete anyway, as faxes and email were beginning to take over, and after my experience with that company I was loathe to go back into an office environment. In hindsight I wish I had made a different choice, but then hindsight is a wonderful thing.

I ended up working in retail part time, all the time relying on overtime to make up my meagre wages while they refused to give me a full time contract. I learned long ago that when it comes to retail, those three little words "must be flexible" mean "must be available at our beck and call". After four years I had enough of it and so got a full time with one of their rivals. That though didn't last and I got the sack after less than two months. I then got a job in an insurance office as a Motor Vehicle Inspections Controller (telephoning policy holders whose cars had been involved in accidents t0 arrange an inspection and/or valuation), and that is when my luck began to change.

It was around this time that I first discovered spirituality, and the rest as they say is history. After I left the insurance office (they relocated to the west country), I went back into retail, as Manageress of a kitchen and bathroom showroom, until my Mum died at the end of 1999. It was then that I gave up work in order to initially study crystal therapy, and later to write my book.

Seeing the son there on Friday again today, felt very strange and made the memories of those six years and what his father did come flooding back. I know it is not his or his wife's fault, but I felt really quite awkward and embarrassed to be reminded of who I was back then. You see, I did not like who was I then, and I do not want to be reminded of that. I realise of course that those experiences have shaped me into the person that I am, and I should in many ways be grateful for it, but still it feels awkward, especially since she wants to actually stock copies of my book in her shop.

The thing that made me feel the most awkward was when Mr C Senior and his wife, B came into the Sanctuary at one point. Of course they are both a lot older than when I knew them (early 70's) and the wife did not recognise me. Her husband definately did, as he stood by my table, about two feet away, staring at the name on my book cover and trying not to look at me. I can only surmise that he must still be carrying guilt from those times, and in a way so am I. I actually felt quite sorry for him, as he is now an old man, but at the same time, I was also aware of this great anger rising up inside up, and part of me that wanted to go and talk to him and tell him the consequences of what he did, and how it has affected my life. I chose not to though fkir two reasons; firstly I did not want to make a scene as his grandchildren were there, and secondly because I knew that if I did I would turning myself into a victim and a martyr and that is not a role that I want to be seen in, or experience.

The family though are back in my life for a reason, so I have a find a way of reconciling how I feel. I can see as well in way that the roles have reversed, as I am now, or soon will be, a business supplier rather than an employee. Of course though, it is the shop owner and daughter in law that I shall be dealing with rather than her husband or father in law, both of whom I worked for. Still, it seems strange how this all came about, and I can't help but wonder why they have come back into my life at this time and how best to deal with it?

The Gospel According to June ....

What a weekend it has been. I left have the Internet forum I set up with three friends around a year ago, after a myriad of problems, and this time it's for good. I have not shed any tears, and will not be doing so, but it has been traumatic nevertheless, although it could have been a lot worse. There were no recriminations, but it was starting to go that way, and if I had not stepped in and said to the one remaining administrator that I am still in touch with, and (I hope) still on reasonably friendly terms, that we should drop the subject as it was going round and round in circles, then it could quite easily have got a lot worse.

I suspect it was an "inside job" by one of the other administrators to get rid of my partner and myself, since for some reason this lady felt threatened by what I had to say and write. Comments were being made to the effect that I was putting too much personal stuff on the open forum. I also think that she felt the fact that my book was very esoteric might put some people off joining. I will say no more, since people who remain on the site can and sometimes do look at this blog and there is no point in antagonising further. On the other hand, this is my site and I should within certain limits, be able to write what I want on. I am not responsbible for how others choose to take my words, that is up to them. They have already proven by their actions that they will do what they want to do regardless of anything I do or say, which is exactly the reason I had to leave.

Right then, on to the more serious stuff. I have a job interview this morning for a company who sell dental supplies. The agency that arranged it were supposed to post me a copy of the job description, but it has not arrived, so I will have to ring them instead. The job sounds quite interesting, but I will have to see what I think, and more importantly feel, when I get there.

The deadline for the village newsletter is once again looming. I am meeting the current Editor tomorrow morning to get cracking on that, since this issue is supposed to be done predominantly by me. I need to contact Richard re changing my book cover. I plan to make some changes to the text as well, including the deletion of all references to Internet forums that I have ever been a member of. If anyone who reads this ever thinks about becoming a mod or administrator on one of these sites then my advice is don't do it, it is more hassle that it's worth, and you will get nothing but grief. Get on with real life, talking to real people, and not some cyber based virtual reality world.

Here endeth the Gospel according to June ...

June is bursting out all over

The last few days seem to have been a bit of a rush, since I am off to Lundy on Friday for another weeks holiday, and the deadline for the village newsletter is also looming. I have been busy helping the current Editor with various pages, and have written a few of my own this time, one on the origins of April Fools Day and a double spread on the top 10 best April fools jokes. I am not sure if he will have room for either of them, but it is nice to feature seasonal things. I had the idea for a piece in the June edition, the first one of which I will do all by myself, entitled "June is bursting out all over". It may raise a few eyebrows.