Friday, 28 May 2010

This is not a Funny One

People come to this blog for light relief. They come because it makes them laugh (and wee their pants in some cases - apparently) and lets them escape for a few brief moments from their own lives, which sometimes aren't all that happy (and sometimes are downright bloody hard).
Every now and again I have to write a post which won't make people laugh and which won't make people's day better and to be honest I hate doing it. It feels like I'm letting the side down and it's not why this blog is here. However - I need to be honest with you so you can understand what is going on with my life and why I might post a bit infrequently.

So it goes like this.

If life has taught me one thing (other than I can't decorate cakes and dead badgers are very heavy), it's that it is what happens when you are busy making other plans.

Case study to date include:

1. Holding your new baby in your arms and planning a cup of tea and a nice lie down only for life to decide that you're going to exit the building surfing a tidal wave of your own blood and, almost, straight to the mortuary.


2. Pushing a double buggy proudly round Tesco planning on dinner only for life to decide that before you can say 'I think I'll do something with anchovies' you'll actually find yourself having all your distinguishing marks recorded on a chart so they can admit you to a psychiatric unit and, if needs be, the police can identify you, dead or alive (my abiding memory of this was that the guy noted my build down as medium - if he'd put 'heavy' I might have really got mad).
and unfortunately the latest case study of:

3. Loads of really amazing people nominating you for 2 really cool blog awards and you thinking 'oh hell, how am I going to enjoy all this and do the publicity without my dad finding out!' only for life to.......
.....well for life to take your dad away in ambulance and then inform you that his very sudden loss of function is because he has a brain tumour. And not just any old brain tumour. One right in the middle of his brain which they can't really do much about and which looks to be highly aggressive. You know it's bad when they have to take you to a little private room. You know it's bad when the doctor can't meet your eyes and keeping fiddling with his thumbs and struggling to find the words. You know it's bad when the doctor tells you to 'prepare for the worst'.

Just like that. From fine to the stuff of nightmare in a few short days.

And overnight dreams turn to dust and the world keeps on spinning even though you're sure its actually stopped. You want to wake up and realise that none of this is true but you can't wake up because this is reality. Your new reality. Your dad's new reality. Your mum's new reality. Your brother's new reality. And the new reality of all his family, friends, colleagues and everyone else touched by him. And someone as big as my dad (both physically and in his character) touched a lot of people's lives.

I can't even tell you how I feel because I'm not sure I can actually feel. Well I can but it's odd. I am basically having to live with my mum to try and get her through the days (and nights) and everything is just a mess.

When my Grandma died in the autumn I said grief was like a moth, sitting quietly on the wall and waiting to flutter down into the light and clatter it's dusty wings across your face.

This is not a moth.

This is a panther.

It pads at your heels wherever you go and you know it's there, you can feel it's breath on your back and hear it breathing, but you dare not turn and look because you fear that if you meet its eyes it will push you to the ground, knock the breath from your lungs and destroy you.

And yet life goes on and do not fret, this blog will go on.

Sitting here reading some of my old posts last night was the first time I've felt vaguely normal in a week. I actually sat here laughing. LAUGHING. I never thought I'd laugh again. It's probably wrong to laugh at your own stuff but I don't care.

In the last 48 hours I've managed to:

- stand aside to let a man leave the hospital car park, only to position myself under the car park barrier so that it came down on my head, I mistook it for a swooping eagle or falling building and thus threw myself to the ground screaming 'ARRRGGHHH'. Having to get back up and smile at all the onlookers was even more cringeworthy.

- ground the car on top of a wall outside the school, balancing it like seesaw. Not good for the bodywork or the wall or my reputation.

- stand in a large, fresh, dog poo in flip flops (this I seriously do NOT recommend).


- fail to notice the toddler smuggling a packet of digestive biscuits into the bath. I wondered what the hell was going on when the water turned to gruel but it appears he was not aware of the concept of soggy biscuits. He is now.

So as you can see, whatever happens in my life, I am never short of blog fodder.

To my old fans and my new - I hope you can stick with me through this - I'm going to need to generate the laughs as much as you.

Life - sometimes it ain't half sh1t.


  1. There aren't any words ((( ))) hang on in there chick, it's all you can do really x

  2. Thanks Ruth - yeah, it's rare I'm actually speechless but for days I was just in such deep shock. My dad is/was the life and the soul of every party, a HUGE character and you just can't believe that this can happen. But it can and it does and it's happened to us. And just when I thought I'd nearly got to the top of the mountain and all my dreams were in sight.


  3. Jeez - that Life thing can really take your breath away at times, can't it? I empathise entirely with what you're going through and your dad's tumour. My mum had the same. When they showed us the x-rays we couldn't even make out her brain, the thing was so big. And no, they can't hold your eyes, can they? They don't know what to tell you or what to say - we just made damned sure we asked everything we wanted to know (my dad stayed in denial I think and only asked if she was in pain - which she wasn't). My thoughts are with you, Stickhead (wish I could call you by a proper name) and huge hugs wend their way through the ethosphere to you and yours. Hang in there - and believe that when doors shut, windows open and all that other bollocks - because it's true. x

  4. Thanks Debs - your post moved me to tears. I'm so sorry you had to go through the same with your mum. Since this has happened quite a few people have been kind enough to share similar stories with me and it makes you even more aware of the suffering so many families go through and the kindness of people. It can be very a lonely place, life, but I feel less alone because of the kindness and empathy of people like you. Lots of people do call me Stickhead in real life too (long story!) but if you want to call me something else then Vic is a pretty good option. Lots of love

  5. Thanks Nicks, love to you too xxx

  6. Big Hugs, thinking of you.


  7. I had been wondering where you were and am so sorry to hear that your absence is due to such sad circumstances :(

    Thinking of you and your lovely family.

    Dingbatsbird x

  8. Oh Vic - I'm so,so sorry this has happened to your Dad. My thoughts are with you and I'm sending (((hugs))) and ***sparkles*** for you and your family.
    Sue xx

  9. I'm so sorry. Take care. x

  10. No words are enough at a time like this.... I am sending big hugs to you and your family, sometimes, it's as well we don't know what is round the corner in life.I have laughed so much at the stories about your Dad, I feel I know him, Thank you for sharing him with us,
    Love Tilly xxx

  11. Hugs to you. I am going through a day to day situation with OH. His chemo was withdrawn and radiotherapy is not beneficial.
    But, hey, I bought him a wheelchair !! Gawd, was that the right thing to do? He makes a break for freedom every now and then, but even at 70 I can outrun him now!
    I lose him in M&S as he hides under the clothes rail.
    I may get a really odd phone ring tone so I can find him among the ladies underwear.
    Hang on in there xxxx
    Sparkles [aka Barbara]

  12. I am so so sorry Vic. You shouldn't for a second feel that you're letting the side down or that this blog should only be for making people laugh. You're a real person, not a character on a sitcom and one of the reasons your blog is so special is that it shows real life, not just the glossy face of a life you want the outside world to see.

    I know that your posts on here have helped so many people and I really hope that we in turn can help you at this time.

    Love Shiny xxx

  13. I'm so sorry you're going through this. Love and hugs to you and your whole family. xx

  14. I'm so sorry you are going through this xx lots of love to you all

    Claire xx

  15. So sorry to hear what you are going through. Sending (((HUGS))) to you and all your family members. xxx

  16. I am so sorry to hear of your news about your Dad. I have only been following your blog for a short while, & I don't know that there are any other words to say, but I am sending you huge (((hugs))) xx

  17. Don't really know what to say, but hang in there... Love, Tina

  18. Wishing you all love, peace and strength xxxx

  19. So very bloody sorry to hear this.

    Sending you huge (((hugs))) Hang on in there and come back to us as soon as you feel ready xxx

  20. So sorry Stickhead. Life is a pile of shite at times, as you well know. Huge virtual hugs from a stranger who's wishing you well.

  21. I'm so sorry to hear this. Lots of love to you and all your family. I got my dad to read your blog and he loves your dad to bits - he totally agrees about the chutney knife xxx.

  22. Nothing I can say will make you feel better, but don't stop posting just because you think we only want to hear funny things. Life covers everything, sad times too, and we'd like to know how you're doing, listen and sympathise.

    Love to you all.

  23. I cannot begin to fathom what you are going through, but my heart breaks for you. I am so so sorry and I hope you and your lovely family can support each other through it all, because that is all you can do isn't it, there are no words that will make it better, but I hope you keep smiling and remember the good stuff.

    Thinking of you all Stickhead, keep strong sweetheart xxxxx

  24. Im so sorry to hear your news, sending you all my love and prayers. Keep as strong as you can, and dont feel bad about coming here to unload - we love you through the funny and the sad xx Jacquie

  25. Sorry to hear about your dad xxx

  26. So sorry to hear this, my thoughts are with you and your family. *hugs*

  27. I'm so sorry - will be thinking of you and your family.

  28. Thank you everyone - I am really overwhelmed by everyone's kindness. Thank you xxx

  29. My hugs are not big enough I sure wish they were. Thinking of you and yours xx Janet

  30. Jo (fellow nutter)6 June 2010 at 21:13

    Aw Vic...I'm so sorry my wonderful friend...if you need anything at all call me..Lots of love. xxxx

  31. I'm so sorry to hear about your father.