• The Daddy

    10/29/2017 at 11:54 6 comments

    Every now and then one of my friends will come up with an idea that blows me away. This is one of them...

    George S is a real dude, he's lived a long and interesting life and now he's retired his thoughts have turned a little sentimental. Its a good thing, I like sentimental anyway and George is fascinating at the best of times.

    Everyone wants to leave something behind so that they'll be remembered well and your kids are no exception. Well he wanted something special for his daughter, and thought it would be nice to have something personal as a reminder of what he is, and this is what he came up with.

    The shirt smells faintly of his aftershave and soap, and will contain a little note in the pocket that says something from him to her so she can get a hug and some encouraging words from her old dad long after he's gone.

    Awww... How could I not?
    I cut down the shirt sleeves in line with the body, and cut off half the length. I used a piece of the spare cloth to block the neck-hole up with by tacking it to the base of the collar and then machining round it from the outside, sealing the top button into place. The side seams were then rolled and machined into place, then I undid the buttons and rolled the bottom seam into place.

    Finally I turned it in the right way again and stuffed it with a pillow before doing the buttons up again.

    Thanks to George S for allowing me to reproduce this here, as it is so personal. I hope you dont need it any time soon my friend ;-)

  • Dissentful Muttering

    09/02/2017 at 09:12 3 comments

    Oh that's the final straw with these people.

    The whole point of my tirade with the government, and much of my depression is the fact that I know I shouldnt be forced to care for Bea under these conditions. Its not about caring for Bea myself.

    I should relate something that happened a few days ago. Now Bea is brilliant most of the time and is known for this, but she's not always that way. She has a stubborn side that people rarely see because she's getting what she wants. Attention, her needs met and usually whatever she desires. It isnt complex to figure out and around the house she has things pretty much her own way.

    However, since certain nasty creatures have levelled comments like 'freak' at her, among other things I've written about, her behaviour has changed. She doesnt like going out as much unless it's to somewhere she wants to be, and she's spending more time in her room. It's also been reflected in her behaviour at Daycare, they report that she isnt engaging as much with the sessions, and spends time in the hallway where she can watch whats going on instead. She's also become difficult and sullen about things in general a lot more.

    Well, Bank Holiday Monday. Yeah, one of those Mondays. Bea is a creature of habit, routines are important to her and when her daycare closes for no reason she can discern it upsets her. She stayed in bed past lunchtime until I insisted she get up and have something to eat, and just shrugged about going for a walk. I wanted to see a friend, so later in the day we went out. Big mistake...

    We got within a couple hundred yards of where we were heading and Bea just stopped dead in her tracks and refused to budge. I used up my repertoire but she decided she didnt want to walk, so she wouldnt go home either. I'm afraid to say I kind of lost it at that point. She stood there howling at me because I yelled, chocolate milk dribbling down her chin and wouldnt even let me near her.

    Ok, so we're stood by a busyish road with her screaming her tits off, so I tried to take her by the hand and sit her down, but she takes great offence and shoves me off. Next thing I know some berk in a passing car stops and has a go at me for 'man-handling her' out of his window. Oh right, so thats how it is I thought, and told him to mind his own, as I was neither abusing nor hurting her. Cars backed up until he left, satisfied he'd poked his oar in. Bea meanwhile hammed it up like a pro to a concerned woman who came out of her house I think, and walked with her and her daughter quite happily to the corner, where they left us. As soon as they were out of sight, she just stopped again and sneered at me, sat on someone's wall and refused to move again. Luckily this time we were round the corner and I could go and knock at my friends, who came out and encouraged her to move finally. She finished her chocolate and sat in the garden completely ignoring everyone while I had a chat, but by the time I was done she practically dragged me home.

    I have no idea what prompted any of this, but thanks to the lady and her daughter who came out and were understanding about what was going on. Thanks to the bloke in his car for the concern too, but it was misplaced. 20 years, defended her against everything tooth and nail, and I'd hurt her? Pffft.

    I've got legal advocacy for her, I'm bound to speak for her - if I think she has something to say, then its my duty to make sure its clear. I'm also her carer, I'm bound by duty to assist her with the things she needs help with. Those two things are accorded me because she is vulnerable. All parents have these duties to their children, but they have latitude and discretion I dont have.

    I dont say no to her without reason; if she wants sweets, she has sweets where a child can be told no for example. And how many times have you seen an adult dragging a screaming child by the hand because they have to be somewhere and the child is having a tantrum because it doesnt want to go? I dont have that luxury either, and...

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  • Tales of the Unexpected

    08/25/2017 at 07:04 4 comments

    I've been forced to change my perspective. That's something I'm unaccustomed to, because usually there's a line drawn. Snarling, wild horses, that kind of thing. I'm unable to just change my mind on core issues.

    However, I've been keeping an eye on Craft It Yourself, and was surprised to see more of my influence in it. Thanks for not identifying me, CIY, or featuring me, that hurts.

    Because if what you're saying is true, my work has influenced some of the more creative among us here in the UK to start folding Origami again, and the interior designers have gone all low poly over the geometric forms in that, and what I'm doing. Ok, initially I was offended, nobody likes to see their hard work displayed by someone else (and I still am with you, Robin, that was blatant enough to get my attention.) but when its a design movement inspired by them...? Apparently the Zen of Origami is the new colouring book too.

    You're kidding me, right? Dark monochromatic surfaces with contrasting lighter detail, I cant think where I've seen that before, except in my head, where it leaks out into my artwork... The words liberally studded describe it. Next week Craft It Yourself are featuring a four-poster bed, so they advertise.

    Been there, done that, got the T-Shirt


    Inside is a box-section bed. It's another up-cycle, the wood came from wardrobes, the Kapok from furniture, the canopy frame used to be bunk-beds, and I added a king-size cotton valance sheet, and some Indian muslin I had imported specifically.


    I made it over 2 years ago, it gives me privacy as Bea is inclined to walk into a room without asking, and its incredibly comfortable. The mattress is 8" deep natural cotton and is also hand-made. If I have to sleep alone, I'll at least do it in style.

    You make your bed, you have to lay in it.

    OK OK, I can take a hint. But it isnt me you have to convince. Nor is it Bea, who is happy with her existence as it is. That's the problem, I've been given legal advocacy for her after our little disagreement with the government over this; she wants to live in the community and has chosen to live with her old dad since her mum bailed out on her decades ago, and its pretty much all she's known. Well apparently that also makes me her carer, however I'd disagree with that. Last I looked there's statues being torn down over the ethics of bondage, and I'm not talking about using a safe word.

    No means no, and I say no to being used as a shit-scraper while I've got enough people impressed with my skunkworks that it's spilled over into the art and design sphere, never mind robotics. If you want to know why I'm annoyed, I'm on benefits, which I dont have a choice on. Bea by default gets her EESA and PIP, and because she lives with me the local council, who own my house, class that as my income. It also means the benefits agency can get away with putting me on Income Support, where I am not fit for work.

    If I do work, I get to keep 20 quid of the proceeds. The government keeps the rest, unless I dont declare it. Kind of hard to hide a craze that's sweeping the nation, and I think I might make more than 20 quid in a week. Never mind a painting breaks the limit of 16 hours paid work in a week if I sell it. The cheeky bastards have sanctioned me numerous times already for voluntary work as it is; I'm actually waiting for them to sanction me for even being in the Prize.

    Well I've had it with that noise. I like scruffy jeans, and if I want to walk around looking like a tramp I will. I'll just do it in £250 jeans with that distressed look, and I might even take to a man-bun myself yet.

    Hey, dont blame me, I didnt create this monster.