Board Games and Coffee Stains

02-06-2014 Monday 

Thank God I’m back. I had to stay at Grandma’s during the weekend and I got back this afternoon and lordy, lordy am I glad to be home. How did Grandpa manage to live with this woman? Ohw, that’s right, he didn’t. Dad says Grandpa died because he didn’t want the agony of living with Grandma any longer. Dad’s a (bad four letter word).
I had forgotten to bring my pyjamas so Grandma made me sleep in one of her nightdresses. At times like these I am just so happy that she can’t handle a camera and does not know how the Internet works. She’s one of those people who goes to a computer shop and says things like,’ I’d like one Internet, please’ and then she’d add,’ It’s ‘taking out’ so I’d like some portable wifis with that, too, please.’ Anyways, it was one of those old smelly nightdresses, totally worn, a little torn and it was covered in weird looking brown-ish, stains and a couple of white-ish ones. Don’t ask, please … don’t ask and don’t even think about it.
Before I went away Evelyn asked me where Grandma lived, I told her that it wasn’t a matter of ‘where’; it was a matter of ‘when’. Grandma still thinks she’s living in the 70s; sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. Two of those things are not things you’d want to know about your own granny. She showed me some pictures of herself in the 70s. She was young, smoking, drinking and surrounded by men. Basically nothing’s has changed over all those years, but for her age. Really, I have no idea why it is that she is still surrounded by so many men and that there are these weird looking stains on her nightdress.
I’m not going to go into too many details about the weekend at the moment, there’s just one thing I’d like to say now. Grandma is one of the biggest cheaters in the world when it comes to playing board games. Never in my life have I seen anybody so bad at losing that she’s willing to cheat at anything, everything! Not only that, she also mixes up all the rules and I have no idea whether she does it on purpose or whether it’s one of those things that come with old age. She kept saying ‘check mate’ while playing a game of checkers. When we switched to chess (I thought I was bad at this game) she kept saying it was her turn to throw the dice and she wanted to buy Kings Cross Station and Euston Road. Halfway through the game I noticed that she was trying to put a bishop of hers back on the board. She had somehow managed to take it from me when she was handing me a biscuit. Never take biscuits from old lady ladies, kids!
Grandma read me a bedtime story, which was kind of cute. Well, the intention was cute. She picked up the book from the desk in her room. I believe she thought it was the bible, and although it had a black cover, it was far from the bible. I think Grandma had thrown away the dust cover and I think she had done so for a reason. The book was not meant for my ears and I am not going to say anything about what was in the book, suffice to say that this was a lot more informative than biology class. I didn’t tell this to my parents; Mum would probably kill Grandma over this. Dad would probably laugh his head off and go round Grandma’s to ask for the title of the book. Dirty old man. So, this was my weekend in short. Hope you had a nice one, maybe even nicer one. See me tomorrow. 

Braaaaaains.

30-05-2014 Friday

I’ve decided to start working on the sequel to my Missing Pages. The Missing Pages is being read by some people to see if there’s anything that needs changing. I liked writing it so much that I decided to work on a second. I might even like it so much that I decide writing a third and a fourth. Who knows!? Even if they don’t get published ever, it’s still good fun and good practise.
I think the hardest thing to do is to find a good title. I’ve written some lyrics before, and I always get stuck on a title. Whereas sometimes it’s okay to name the song after the chorus, I think that with certain lyrics it’s just a sign of a lack of creativity. Sometimes a title should really add something. Maybe it should be a question answered in the lyrics, or maybe it should be a one-word summary.
How do other writers do this? Do they come up with the title afterwards? It would be more logical. Only afterwards you know what the story is about. Then again, coming up with one beforehand might just boost creativity a little or give you a hint as what to write about. When I write I start off with some sort of vague idea and things get clearer on my way to the end of what I was writing about. I don’t really start with a plan or some incredibly well thought through concept. This kind of means that I am somewhat of a delete freak.
Although I really love writing, I know that it is time consuming and sometimes really frustrating. Sometimes I just sit behind my computer, staring at the screen, wanting to write, but nothing comes out. What a weird machine that brain is. Wanting to write, but not giving anything to write about. Sometimes I wonder if the wires in my brain are correctly connected and working properly, because at times it seems as if different parts of my brains just don’t communicate. One part goes,

‘Hey, let’s sit down and write! I really feel like writing!’

And then another part, totally confused, goes,

‘What are we sitting down for?’

And yet another part, who has absolutely no clue what the other parts were going on about,

‘Oh, look, a screen and some buttons. I wonder which game we’re going to play.’

There’s absolutely no communication whatsoever between various brain cells. I hope I’m not the only one who experiences this every now and again. I won’t be here this weekend, because I’m going to have a sleep over at Grandma’s as my parents want to have a weekend all to themselves … lucky me.

See me after the weekend. 

Party People

15-03-2014 Saturday

Grandma should buy a bigger house. She might just have to because I don’t think much is left standing after last night’s party. Some people might just be heading straight for a divorce and Grandma, if she remembers anything at all, will probably be heading for a nervous breakdown, unless she continues drinking for the rest of her life to calm her nerves and to forget more than she already does. All in all, as a spectator of the events, it was quite amusing up to a certain point, then things got out of hand and I guess the aftermath is about to start. I’ll have to keep it short, because Mum and I are about to go over to Grandma to have a look at the damage and to help clean up the mess.
When we arrived yesterday afternoon nothing was the matter. Mum, Dad, Grandma and I were getting things ready for the guests. First people arrived at four-ish. Slowly but steady more people arrived and I started wondering who they all were and whence they had come. There weren’t enough seats and there weren’t enough parking lots outside and we fell short of party hats, but I don’t think many people thought that was of a big concern. The only things there was plenty of were food and beverages (mostly alcoholic). For some reason people who drink a little don’t mind standing so much anymore. At least up to the point when they are to drunk to stand. In those cases any part of the floor would do just fine.
Mum had prepared soup, sandwiches, and a something that has a French name (I believe it had something to do with horses, but I’m not sure). Everybody was allowed to help themselves and I believe most of it was gone within ten minutes. I wonder if people even tasted what they were eating or whether they were just cramming it down their gullet without biting or chewing on anything. They looked like starving pigs in a sty who had just been given their first meal since weeks.
After dinner it was still mostly ‘beer and skittles’ as Dad remarked. Even though I didn’t know most of the people present they seemed to know each other. While we were in  the kitchen pouring drinks and making new ‘horse-things’ Mum said most of the people present were friends of Grandma’s and she didn’t know them either. As a matter of fact Mum didn’t know Grandma had so many friends. Then Grandma walked in and said to Mum,
’ Did you invite all these people?’
Mum looked a bit puzzled and said,’ Why?’
‘ Who are they!?’
Mum just stared at Grandma for a minute and said,
‘ Really mother? You have no idea who they are and why they are here?’
Sure, sure, it’s my birthday. But I don’t know more than half of the lot. Did you invite them over?’
Mum just shook her head and went on with her business. We didn’t really bother to go into it any further. Up till now we still have no idea where most of those people came from and we don’t think Grandma can tell us. Grandma had so much to drunk, she might even still be drunk when we get there.
I will have to finish this tonight, because Mum is calling me. There’s a lot of cleaning up to do and I guess the insurance company will be hearing from us, too.

See me later. 

Is It Sunday Already?

01-03-2014 Saturday

What better way to end a week of slaving away at school than a nice visit of a retarded OAP who has lost her mind, her sense of time as well as control over her sphincter? I was actually kind of looking forward to a nice and peaceful evening on the couch with an apple and some carrots (part of my new diet) when Mum announced Grandma was coming over. At least this time Grandma phoned us before coming over instead of pretending to be lost on her way to the supermarket and emptying out our fridge.
Grandma said she was coming over after dinner. Which to me is at about 8. When the doorbell rang a 6 while Mum was about to put the food on the table, I answered the door. I had expected to see an encyclopaedia salesman or some other kind of door-to-door salesperson; instead I was greeted by the smell of flowers in decay mixed with filled baby diapers. My instincts kicked in and I immediately slammed the door. I’m sorry Grandma. When I realised what I had done, I waited a few seconds till she rang again, opened the door and acted very surprised. ‘Grandma! How lovely to see me. How am I doing? Great and how are you?’ Grandma was not pleased.
She walked in and demanded food. Luckily Mum tends to cook for an entire orphanage, so there was plenty of food to go ‘round and Grandma was even allowed a second helping. I wasn’t. This diet thing is actually some sort of torture I inflict upon myself. Looking at all the food, but not being allowed to eat as much as I would like or want. Mum is being kind of supportive though. Maybe supportive is not the correct word. It’s more of an obsession to her. When I said I wanted to mind my weight and maybe lose a little, she immediately started saying things like,’ No more candy for you, only fruit and veggies in between meals, no more second servings and you’d better not be buying any sweets at school or on your way to school, because I will find it and I will eat it myself!’ I don’t know if it’s supportive or something far worse. Mum informed Grandma about my diet, but Grandma did not really respond. I think she was still mad at me.
Those of you out there who have been reading my blog know that Grandma is a little bit deranged. Last time she thought our house was the supermarket and she keeps calling me Ivor (her dead cat). Yesterday she kept looking for things that were not really lost. Her glasses: on her head; her gloves: on her hands; her glass of drink: on the table; her handbag: under her seat; her dentures: in het mouth; and so on. And not just once, no, she kept asking,
’ Has anyone seen my dentures?’
And Mum kept responding,’ They’re in your mouth, Mum.’  
‘ Yes, I know, dear, I was just wondering whether you had seen them.’
I wish I hadn’t opened the door the second time she rang it.
At the moment we are preparing ourselves for a little trip tomorrow. We’re going to go to Cambridge. Apparently I have relatives living there. I believe an aunt lives there and we’re going to meet her and she is going to show us Cambridge. She’ll be cooking for us and afterwards we’ll head for home again. I have never been to Cambridge before so I am looking forward to that. I dunno about this relative yet. I know nothing about her and as she is related to Dad I don’t expect too much of it. I’ll let you know tomorrow evening. See me tomorrow. 

I’m Not Ivor

I should have posted this story yesterday, but I fell asleep while typing it and I finished it this morning. So this is actually about Friday, but I am posting it today, which means whenever you read today, it means yesterday. Sorry, for the confusion. This is by the way not the only confusing part in this story. Here goes.

Just our luck: Grandma decided to pay us a visit. It’s Friday, everybody’s deadbeat, grumpy, and looking forward to the weekend and in walks Grandma. It wasn’t really her intention to visit us, though, but she ended up at our place for some reason. Maybe I should start at the beginning. Yeah, I think that might be the best thing to do.

Mum, Dad and I were at the dinner table having dessert – don’t ask me about the name of it, all I know is that there was double cream in it and that it made me happy – when the doorbell rang. Dad opens the door and we hear Grandma’s voice saying something like,’ What are you doing here?’ Which is weird thing to say when you ring a man’s doorbell and he actually opens the door himself. ‘I live here, and I have lived here for quite some time now, mother.’

Grandma walks in and says,’ Well you might as well help me while you’re here. I need a dozen free range eggs, two loaves of bread, some milk and where do you keep the toilet paper?’ Dad closes the door, follows grandma into the living room, carrying her shopping bag that she had given to him, they head straight into the kitchen where Grandma starts opening all the cupboards and drawers. Dad does his best to stop her, but it’s not really working.

After having opened all the cupboards in the kitchen, she opens the fridge, takes out our milk and cheese and eggs and carries them into the living room where she sees Mum and says,’ Be a dear and put this in my bag for me, please.’ Mum looks at her, she looks at the food on the table, picks it up and starts putting it back where it came from. That is more or less how grandma entered our house.

Grandma is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, which can be hilariously saddening at times. What she did today seemed quite hilarious to me, but Mum and Dad weren’t too pleased. Also, Grandma keeps calling me Ivor instead of Arthur. Two names that, to my opinion, don’t really sound alike. What’s even more is that Ivor is her dear departed cat. Grandma keeps the ashes of Ivor in an urn on the mantelpiece thinking it is the ashes of her late husband. Her husband, however, was buried in a cemetery a couple of blocks away from her, but she never visits it, because it reminds her of Ivor who has been buried there in secret, because they wouldn’t bury cats there.

She is not like this 24 hours a day. It’s just an early stage, so she still has her bright moments. We have to enjoy them while we still can. This is the saddening part: we know that one day she will forget who we are and maybe even who she is. Her brains are like a withering flower in a vase, you can see her brains dying a little bit each day and you try to your best to keep that flower alive, knowing it’s useless. I have to go now, we’re going to take Grandma back to her place. See me tomorrow.

Social Media As A Cure.

05-02-2014 Wednesday

Time is fun when you’re having flies and I have no idea what happened to the first month of 2014 so I must have been having fun. It’s February already and I just realised it today. On the upside, we’re getting closer to summer holiday. I for one wouldn’t mind a holiday and neither would I mind summer. So bringest them on!

Not that I am ready for summer by the way. No, not really, actually. It would take me years to be ready for that. I need to get into shape if I want to be able to show off at the beach or anything. Besides getting into shape, my skin is whiter than white – I make milk look brown – two minutes of sun is enough to make lobsters envy me for my colour. As far as my body is concerned I am not ready for summer, but as for my mind, it’s completely set for summer already.

I did not come here to talk to you about summer, what I actually want to share with you today is that I am making progress in getting to know people on the Internet. Although I must admit that I still have problems finding the right response to people. Like the other day I posted a remark about a very pretty looking girl and I tried my best to find the right words – so as not to sound like a complete idiot but also not like a creep or anything – just something casual, right. And the girl responded in a great way. It really made me smile. But then I had think of something to say and after two days I haven’t said anything back yet. I guess it’s a bit too late for a snappy comeback. At least I am making progress and Grandma can be proud of me.

Not only am I giving it my best to make friends on Facebook, my blog is also really helpful. There is this great guy who makes fabulous pictures. I am big fan of his pictures, though I haven’t always got the time to look at all his pictures and read his stories in great detail. Ohw, yeah, I forgot, he also has a very good way with words. His pictures are usually followed by a poem or at least very poetic words. You should really check him out.  

I have been trying to write some poems myself, but all I can come up with are lyrics to songs that will never be written. At least it’s something. WordPress has got some really good poets and I sometimes get lots in all the posts and I forget that I was supposed to be doing my homework.

The only thing I can’t get the hang of is Twitter. Sometimes it’s like some people have absolutely nothing to do during their day except for posting things on Twitter. They are followed by hundreds sometimes thousands of people and I have no clue as to how they managed to do that. By the way, most of the times it’s girls that have so many followers. I can’t keep up with these people and I don’t have time to post tens of messages a day. It’s not like I’ve got a book with ready-made Twitter posts.

Maybe one day I’ll get the hang of that, too. I should send some a card to Grandma to thank her for the idea of getting a Facebook account. Then again, she’d probably eat it or feed it to the birds. It’s late and it’s time to hit the sack. Goodnight world, see me tomorrow.