or is it really my grandad that looks after me?
why is it that having this stupid lymes disease thing means being grossly ill all day then come 11pm at night and having to sort out dogs kids etc to bed and now ping i am a member of the wide awake club, you watch i will spend some time writing this read a few things and before i know we will being saying hello to mr sunshine heralding that beautiful time of oh god i stayed up all night again and now i will feel crap all day, and yes sure enough the day brings with it pain and yes you guessed the wonderous circle of life goes on.
harrumpmh – did that sound english enough? apparently i sound incredibly english when writing my native tongue is actually sarcasm but i am aiming for english for right now, so where was i ah yes the guardian angel thing
ok for most of my life i have had incredibly good luck having been in some hairy situations in which i managed to come out of the other side alive and well and it was obvious someone was looking after me, i always thought it was the person given the carer role of grandad- that bit is a bit complicated as soon as we talk genetics in my ‘family’ the whole scene gets mudddy and one day i may explain why,
ok so guy in the role of grandad on what we will call the paternal side was just about the only nice guy well as far as i knew in the whole family on paternal side, you see he died back when i was really young maybe around 5 or 6 i was, i don’t remember too much my brain has done a remarkable cover up job and most of my former years are a complete blank but i remember this guy being kind, and patient and nice to us children, then i remember he got poorly and he was laid on a make shift bed in the front room and then i remember crying because i wasn’t allowed to go to the funeral and i also felt a huge loss and though i was only young i remember losing the only person who may have protected me and now i would have no one.
course that wasn’t true in reality no one protected me but this guy was nice and may have tried and that was what counted, after a few years the next memory i have is of him visiting me, i must have been going through a dark time i just remember him saying he would be there for me and do what he could. i felt strangely stronger after that and no matter how crap it got i would blank it out think of grandad and well the years flew by, didn’t feel like it at the time but they did because hell i am going to be fifty this year -say it quick it doesn’t hurt as much, no go on try it; look ffy see now that doesn’t even sound like a number if like me you then learn to mumble as well you can get away with no one knowing how old you are!
so there you have it my guardian angel, and i was quite happy, ish, until around um 15 or 16 i think it was and i was once again going through ‘trying times’ and i visited the person given the role of mother and she was a gypsy of mixed and quite volatile heritage, she was born to a romany gypsy mother who had left the clan and married- i use the term loosely here- a big broad red haired and red faced irish gypsy man well known nay legendary for his drinking and apparently mafia like stronghold on the town of halifax back in the dark ages, not sure but i think halifax is still in the dark ages, ok so this volcanic mix brought forth the woman given the job of main carer for me and of course true to one of the many strange and hardly understandable gypsy traditions that she chose witchcraft as her main career- she picked and chose from whichever side she fancied at the time this time it was the romany so nanna was left shouting that it was nothing to do with her she was a god fearing woman, she could shout incredibly loud for such a tiny woman you know she barely brushed shoulders with the average ten yr old yet could voice her ‘god fearing ways’ through many a closed and locked door resounding through the neighborhood, some of which would pop their head out and mutter at us’ she not letting you in again then m…..? to which my mother would reply ‘none of your feckin business keep your nose out go back to all them weens your got there and barely a da between them‘ yes my mother often chose to suddenly adopt a broad yorkshire accent when she wanted, she spoke all queens english back up north but down in halifax and suddenly i needed an interpreter to find out what my mother was shouting at the locals. (for those interested roughly translated she said keep your nose out of my business and go back to all those children you have produced that have not a father between them and also nanna rarely let us in i dont think she liked mother much for most of their conversations took part through locked doors and we would sit patiently waiting until mother finally gave up and we either visited my aunty or went home. the big irish gypsy grandad on this side of my ‘family’ had died many years before when i was just a baby. Nanna never took anyone else for she was married to god or jesus or some heavenly person.
so mother, was a practising witch, and on occasion when is suited her she would read tarot cards put on spells and various other pastimes. now back to the time when i had gone round to visit and i was around 16 well i was bored-oh how many of my memories begin with well i was bored, ok so boredom now having taken control of my mind and therefor none of the actions or spoken words were any account of mine mother had gone off i know not where but i was looking through her books, she had some brilliant books, this being well before the invention of the internet it was a veritable treasure trove of the most interesting and somewhat scary books ever, and they all had weird names like lamp of thoth, these books was witchcraftin books and rare and of course of the very most amazing interest to a sixteen yr old who had rarely been given any kind of access to them before – mother had guarded them with vitriol and threats until now i think she just wanted rid of me so let me read some of them to keep me quiet, and so i opened one of the smallest but to me one of the most interesting, ok let me set the scene even more for you, her house was not the one i grew up in, she had by the time i was 16 not only kicked me out to live my own life but had moved having sold the other house and spent all the money so now she lives in a tiny cramped and musty damp smelling did i mention it was tiny oh yes we are talking fishermans cottage remember this is a tiny fishing town or was a fishing town i believe europe and the eec made sure they put a stop to fishing here many years ago and then of course industry made sure that all fish and other marine dwellers were now unfit for human consumption anyway think they now glow in the dark or something, but the town has one or two of the fisherman cottages left and my mother bought one because t was the only thing left she could afford after the massive party she went on spending the money she got from selling the other house, ok so tiny smelly fisher cottage no light because somehow mother managed to wreck the whole idea of electricity and so candles were the only source of light that and the makeshift fireplace which had copper pipes running haphazardly through it as some kind of warm water invention that mothers boyfriend had come up with, and there i am amongst walls and floors painted with wild pentagrams and rather lurid anatomically correct paintings done crudely in my mothers hand of the devil and other personalities she admired and i am sat surrounded by all this reading the book of voodoo gods and how to summon them.
yes i agree i did have a somewhat different childhood to others, and yes you are right it was possibly not the most nurturing of households unless you count being educated in the dark arts as nurturing my mother did, but that’s not why we are here, so i was fascinated for a good five minutes in this book- i have a short attention span- and i found a sigil and ritual that would apparently give me a guardian angel and that i thought was a good idea yes had grandad but lets face it how cool would it be to have a voodoo guardian angel so i said the chant did the ritual and ….well that was it, don’t know what i was expecting but no clap of thunder no smoke of lurid green- i really should not watch hammer house of horror movies because absolutely nothing of that sort happened and i took the sigil i had made shrugged my shoulders and wandered off back to my home – it was a little bedsit yup i was ‘lucky’ enough to be a teen during the thatcher years our glorious 80s i was given a bedsit and some dole money and i enjoyed my days recovering from whatever i had done on the nights, it was a good life, i think, but a this point i counted the bedsit i shared with my first husband as home and it was to that i went to and well more or less just got on with my day and we all went round to the mother in law who was consider quite posh as they worked- it was the 80s no one had a job there were more scarce than diamonds- and they had a video player and that was definitely posh so we – a bunch of us teenagers all with our mohicans and piercings- squeezed into this little posh house and watched the exorcist, well i was the biggest wuss ever and could not watch it, i felt quite ill and i left half way through saying it was quite a sick movie, and back then sick actually meant sick and not some misused word for good, i hated it, i thought it was terrible to put such a young actress through what was obviously traumatic acting and i had left on my own because all the others thought it was good and i sat down quite unsettled in the bedsit and something felt weird, i felt weird, and for some reason i looked up to where the window was and as i looked at the curtains i saw what is actually quite difficult to describe but here goes have you ever seen in some big supermarket or store where they have those huge air heaters that blows out hot air to warm the store and if you look a it where the air comes out well the air though transparent makes it all look wavy like you can see through it but when you look through it the air itself has made whatever you look at all wavy, well that was what i was looking at. it was around say 12 inches in an oval shaped area of ,um…..wavy air , i could see through it i could see the curtains but even though we had no heater we were scratch poor remember we didn’t have heaters but even if we had wouldn’t have paced them in the middle of the curtain, so i am looking at this wavy bit and i shuddered i knew somehow i wasn’t alone, i also knew somehow that i would never be alone ever again, this was my voodoo guardian angel and whether i liked it or not he was here to stay.
now i confess i was a little freaked, i was also a little scared about the idea of him being permanent, but i had never had any permanent thing in my whole life so i guess it was that more than anything, i just didn’t like the idea of never being alone again at the time because of the life that had been thrown at me i was at my most comfortable when alone and preferred it that way but because i knew that he was here to well guard me to protect me and i had no choice i accepted him and well he has.
now i guess in looking back over my life you have to decide what is defined by protect because in a sense most people would say it was something that would prevent any and all bad situations happening, but its not like that bad situations happen but i have come out of them alive, and with some of them that is quite an amazing thing, i have been through some very difficult situations but somehow there has always been that last barrier that saved me from well not just avoiding death though i thank him gratefully for that but also in quite a lot of cases i was saved from well what could easily have been hell on earth and as i have grown older and learned to listen to him more i now seem to come through relatively unscathed for which i thank him greatly.
so there you have i guess, i am a super lucky person i have not one but two guardian angels one whom was lucky enough to have known in person and one i brought into being myself and i thank them both for helping me and i am happy now yes even knowing i am never alone ^_^
again make of this what you will i can only recount as i have done here what happened and how i saw it but i don’t need anyone to see this in any particular way i have no concern for what anyone thinks i do not call for anyone’s opinion i am happy and need no ones validation, what you take from this is your own business not mine and i have no interest in your business, also please don’t ask me for the ritual or the sigil both were used at the time and then promptly forgotten and mother died many years ago and i received nothing when she died nothing, not even a picture or book nothing, after a numbers of years i managed to get the person known as my brother to let me have one painting she did and one pack of tarot cards she used. i don’t know what happened to the painting.
once again be kind to others and most of all yourself
and stay beautiful, people
love to all
oh i nearly forgot to add a picture ^_^
ps PLEASE DO NoT TAKE,, COPy, or USE IN ANY WAY ANY OF MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE IN MY BLOG IT IS ALL COPYRIGHT PROTECTED and its my life i lived this don’t take away my life please, thank you
copyrighted September 2015