Oh f*cking no

Well I’ve been doing a lot of writing for other people recently which is very rewarding but it leaves me with so little time to do my blogging. And to be honest after crashing away at a hot desktop all day, you kind of lose the creative impetus. But sometimes things happen that make you want to get some words down and express just how you’re feeling. And right now I’m feeling saddened.

The reason is down to the recent spell of hot weather when we had the windows all open hoping to get a breeze blowing through the house. And we succeeded as a slight gust caught the curtains of our lounge window which then dragged a lovely bronzed-covered statue of a young girl standing happily on the window sill and dumped it on the ground outside with a crash. Now this was a gift from my mum to Carol and I when we were first married over 45 years ago. It was never a great piece of art but we’ve always loved it because it seemed to be a happy omen of what was to follow for us – three beautiful daughters. And that little girl’s statue has always had pride of place somewhere in our living space. It just seemed to fit its position on that bloody window sill. And being heavy as hell (it’s made of reconstituted stone covered in bronze) we never figured it was under any threat from some flimsy curtains.

But somehow it had been grabbed up and dumped outside. I immediately went out to go and recover it. I found her under this bush…

and this is what I uncovered…


Argghh. Now you can imagine how upsetting this was. And what made it worse was that I recovered every piece except one small bit that is preventing us from getting it repaired successfully…


I’ve hunted under that bush and through those gravel chippings for hours and cannot find that missing bloody piece. I know it’s there somewhere but it’s proving to be annoyingly elusive.

Now you’re probably thinking what a big girl’s blouse. It’s just a bloody crappy bit of kitsch art. But here’s the thing; this was/is the only item I had that was from my mum apart from some scratchy letters she tried to write to me after her final stroke. She left us after a lot of illness in 2013. And now her gift to us is totally broken. Is that symbolic do you think?  Or just fucking curtains.

Like this posting. I’ll try be on brighter form soon.

looking for an effective sticking plasta paulie


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About Paul

Having decided on a change of life by moving home from the UK to Italy, this is the story and thoughts of a man on a personal journey from the Blackpool Tower to the Leaning Tower of Pisa, in search of la dolce vita. After several olive harvests he's now back in London but en route he shares his very personal perspectives on life.

3 thoughts on “Oh f*cking no

  1. I was so sorry to read about the little lady. I remember thinking how lovely she was and how very sophisticated I thought you were to have her, back in Aberystwyth! It’s more upsetting for the fact it was a gift from your Mum, hope she can be repaired. Xx

    • Ah many thanks Lynne. Soon as I find the missing piece I’ll try and get her into the Repair Shop! Hope all’s well with you and yours. All fine here if a little older of course. Best to Phil (he must be enjoying life under Klopp!)


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