Archive | August 2015

Colour and Laughter

Over the last month or so I’ve been feeling pretty crappy as the anniversary of my mum’s death crept closer again. I know how this works now, the weeks leading up to it are always the worst, worst than the day itself but it’s done now and that cloud has lifted. It’s time to get up and get on but looking out the window today it’s not reflecting my mood. It’s grey and miserable so I’ve decided to inject some colour and joy into it.
I have a tendency to wear dark colours, over half my wardrobe is solid black but a while ago I saw a lovely colourful dress and it couldn’t be further from my usual attire. I had a night out with the girls from work planned and the sun was shining so out came my yellow dress (yes I did say yellow).
We had a great time, the wine flowed and the food was beautiful.

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One thing I can alway guarantee when I get a night out with these gorgeous girls is we will laugh and laugh, we’ll talk about absolutely everything and anything and there will be photos galore as out youngest member is a selfie addict. As more wine goes down we’ll do our best duck faces and try and make each other laugh just as the pictures are taken or we’ll try and pose so we look a lot more sober than we really are. See the pictures of us that reach the likes of Facebook and instagram will be carefully selected so we don’t appear to look like the drunkards we really are.

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See, I have a pretty and colourful dress and I still look fairly sober and able to strike a pose. However that is one picture from several and it just doesn’t show how much we were really having. We’d been out for 3 hours by now, we’d had at least three bottles of wine and laughed till we nearly pee’d. So here is my favourite picture of me from that night, it’s not the most flattering but it is the most true photo from that night.

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We all need a bit of colour and laughter in our lives.

My Hero

It doesn’t seen possible somehow that it’s been two years already, so much of that final week seems so fresh in my mind still but today I am trying to remember happier times and there were so many. We laughed a lot, my mum had a fabulous sense of humour and an infectious laugh. Growing up we were a little unit, just the two of us and she was my best friend and my hero.

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Memories

She loved little collectibles shops, the smell, the hidden treasures, people’s lives laid out in the objects they loved.
A rare photo album was her favourite, she’d flick through the pages of strangers smiles, holidays and family celebrations She always felt a little sad that someones memories had been lost amongst the bric a brac until the day she found her own. Resting her walking stick against the table she turned the empty pages of the dusty book, it only had one photo left, a photo of her. Her frail fingers ran across the photo as the memory of that time ran through her mind. It had been her awakening, he had turned on the lights and she shone so brightly for him. Never had she been more alive than when he had loved her.

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Sinful Sunday