Wandsworth Charity Event

Anyone who knew my lovely mum would know that she was worth celebrating.  I wanted to mark her passing in a positive and happy way - a way she would have been proud of.

As a Putney resident for most of her life and a willing volunteer for Age UK Wandsworth and their 'Be a Friend' scheme - even into her early 80's! - raising money for them seemed the obvious choice.  Imagine my delight when I rang them to propose my fundraising idea and they readily remembered her and sang her praises.

So ... Putney/Wandsworth/London residents, why not come and join us at a local event that promises to be heaps of fun and all for a good cause (click on picture below for details).  Age UK works tirelessly to support the elderly.  They recognise that growing old can be lonely but their vision is for a world where everyone can love later life.

And if you can't be with us on the night but would like to support my cause, please visit my JustGiving page and donate as little or as much as you can.  On behalf of my mum and the elderly residents of Wandsworth, I thank you.

Caring with love ...

I'm talking carers and caring this week.

An article recently appeared in The Independent stating:

'Disabled people are being forced to choose between having a drink or going to the toilet during “flying care visits” which last only 15 minutes and are increasingly being used by cash-strapped councils struggling to cope with rising demands on the social care system'

And people ask me why my mother doesn't have carers?  Why it's left up to me?

I'm currently sleeping on a mattress on the floor next to my mum while she recovers from a broken pelvis.  I'm there for every nurse's appointment, physio and occupational therapy.  Why?  Because she's hard of hearing and, more often than not, these people (often with very thick accents) make no attempt to speak slowly and clearly in a way she can understand.  She's not stupid, she doesn't have dementia - she simply struggles to hear. 

Do I really want to leave my mum to be rushed and bewildered with a complete stranger first thing in the morning and last thing at night when she feels at her most vulnerable? Answers on a postcard. 

Incidentally, I have also been appalled by the way nurses and doctors in the hospital my mother stayed in dealt with her hearing difficulties.  Nobody seems to have the proper training to raise the level of their voice without screeching AND to look directly at the person.  The audiologist (on our little day trip to get her ears checked for wax) was so softly spoken, I could barely hear him and he spoke to my mum with his back to her.  Please!  A little common sense is all it takes - and it's your job.

But I digress.  FIFTEEN minutes to get an elderly or disabled person up, on and off the loo (or possibly empty and clean a commode), washed, dressed and fed!  This is beyond a joke.  The infirm do not need to be rushed or made to feel that they are working against the clock.  For some, this may be their only contact during a long day and it matters.  It also matters that they feel safe, supported and cared for.  It's in the title!  'Carers'.

It's currently taking me TWO HOURS to complete all of the above with my mum.  Two very long hours but I'm going at her pace and keeping her happy.  I'm not for one minute suggesting that all home visits should be this long but fifteen minutes is laughable.

I pity those who are being subjected to this nightmare.  I have no idea what the answer is but something really needs to be done.

Being a carer is the toughest thing I've ever done in my life.  It's relentless and I have to constantly remind myself to be patient and calm - this is for my own mother who I love with all my heart.  She didn't ask to be in this position - neither did those who are subjected to carers. 

I'll carry on because I have no choice, and on the days that I lay down and cry with exhaustion I remind myself that no one will overlook my mum's physical and mental needs by a fifteen minute flying visit.

She's worth more than that.

The Sound of Silence

On Sunday, we saw a band of people get together to create #twittersilence in protest against the spate of abuse, bomb and rape threats directed at female writers, journalists and politicians.

I don't condemn anyone if that was what they chose to do - your Twitter, your opinion, your life, your way of dealing with things.

But it wasn't for me.  I just don't get the idea of being silent.  I don't get what it was hoping to achieve.  Especially as a minute past midnight some of those who had chosen to take part came back with more tales of the above threats.

Doesn't silence mean we're giving into the these sad, lowlife losers who get their kicks from trolling and threatening?  Doesn't silence equal fear?  Isn't that exactly what those people want?

I understand that changes need to be made - no one should be allowed to make another person's life a misery through fear or stalking - I get that.  But this isn't about introducing an 'abuse button' on Twitter - which I think will end up being the most 'abused button' ever.  This is about making sure that threats, lies, hounding and stalking are taken seriously and dealt with swiftly. With Twitter I would imagine that, now they've recruited so many new members of staff, it's a fairly straightforward process but we also need to consider the saddos who make it their life's work on other platforms such as blogs.  Temporary IP addresses (VPM's) need to be denied to private individuals - it's an oversight that will lead to further mischief and abuse.  Why should any honest, decent person need to shroud their internet activities if they have nothing to hide?  Why should that be an option?

I haven't been threatened and I hope I never will but I know what it's like to have someone so wound up by your very existence that they feel they have to keep trying to stick the knife in - where they just don't want to let it lie, move on and get on with their own life.

It's annoying - in the same way as a fly you want to swat or a constant dripping tap - but it's also intriguing.  What have I done to upset my own stalker so much?  What's their real problem with me?  I know it's not someone who knows me in real life - although they like to pretend that they do - so why do they feel that they need to spend so much time on following my every move and condemning me for it?

The facts are these:

*We sent our son to private school - big deal!
*We struggled to keep him there when our circumstances changed but we did it and we're proud.  It was worth every minute of the worry.
*He suffered from school phobia - a very REAL condition - which, with our support,  he overcame.
*He was not bullied - EVER.
*We appeared on 'This Morning' and in 'The Daily Mail' to help other kids - I met with three other families face-to-face and had email contact with many others who thanked us for highlighting this condition.
*I write popular chicklit novels - two of which are based on my observations of certain types of mothers and show them up for what they are, in a tongue and cheek manner. Most of my reviews are 5* - nuff said.
*I made good friends with parents at my son's prep school and his secondary school.  The decent ones!
*I am a size 38C bust and I wear size 12 jeans - I'm not fat or skinny.  I am most definitely not 'corpulent'!
*I eat chocolate and crisps!  Who doesn't?  Unless of course you're a lettuce leaf sniffer as featured in the Mummy Misfit books.
*I smoke - disgusting but true.  Not a cheap brand though - cos I ain't a cheap kinda gal!
*My kitchen is painted in 'Tapestry Thread' - a period colour. Not nicotine or menstrual.
*My family - those close to me - and my friends, are incredibly proud of me.  I don't embarrass anyone. It's far worse to go around leaving 'anon' comments on blogs - does my stalker proudly tell their family and friends what they've done? Being a writer is a massive achievement - being an anonymous bully is not.
* I am very happily married - I love, live with and laugh with my soul mate. I count my lucky stars every single day that I'm married to such a wonderful man.

So that's me, in a nutshell.  The me that drives someone nuts!  They've been reported and I will track them down and shut them up.  I don't publish their comments on my blog any more because that would give a voice to their lies.  But I always respond to them.

Because, in short, I won't be silenced.

My blog ... my space.

What's a blog for?

Well, that's a bit like asking how long's a piece of string, isn't it?

It's whatever you want it to be - you are, of course, master of your own blog.

DEFINITION
BLOG: 'web log'
A personal website or web page on which an individual records opinions, links to other sites, etc. on a regular basis.

If you choose to post about goat mating, women in stockings, recipes with chocolate or homosexual pirates that's totally up to you - your blog, do what you like.  And then I can choose whether or not I want to read it or to pass the information on to others.

Blogging for me means covering a whole manner of subjects.  I'm a writer so I might run with one thought one week and another the next.  My blog, my choice. Equally, your choice to decide whether or not you want to read it.

In the past I've covered the topics of  periods, breast-feeding, my dad, books and an imaginary interview with Graham Norton - a vast array of subjects which won't appeal to all.

But it's my blog and I won't be told what I can and can't write about.

I would never write with the intention to offend or upset - although varying opinions can't always guarantee that I won't.  Not everyone's going to agree with my thoughts on smoking in public places, dummies (pacifiers for my US readers!), immigrants or the English education system - but they are my thoughts for you to do with as you will - consider, agree, dismiss, think I'm the best thing since sliced bread, throw your toys out of the pram or vow never to read another word that I write again.

Up to you.  Up to me.

The purpose of my blog is not solely to sell books.  It's there for a whole magnitude of things.  My readers will know if someone pees me off in Sainsbury's or if Mr Marks & Spencer seemed to have stopped making suitable clothes for my mum - it will end up written about here.

Some weeks I may rant and other weeks I may be in a jokey mood.  Regular visitors will know that you can never be 100% sure what you might read on the Misfit's blog.  And that's what I love about it - I'm not pigeon-holed.  It's my space.

But saying that, I am always careful to consider my choice of words and subjects.  I have a filthy mind and hubbie and I can be 'foul of mouth' but my blog is not the place for that.  I've never posted a piece that I wouldn't have been happy to show to my 85 year old mother and that's the way I'll keep it.

In fact, I showed her last week's post today.  I had my reasons and she got a bit teary - but she got my point.  My blog, my opinion, my release.

People abuse Facebook on a daily basis with digs and jibes that go out worldwide to friends and relatives, and they get off scott free.  Bloggers come under fire because ... well, why?  Because they sat and considered their words and didn't shoot from the hip?  No, it's because it's a permanent record of their thoughts or feelings at the time and Facebook is so 'in the moment' and virtually impossible to trace back.

Whatever you post on social media sites is out there for people to see,  you should own it - stand up and take responsibility for it.  You may just have posted an off-the-cuff one liner but those words can still do damage.

I don't ask anyone to read my blog - and yet I have thousands of hits a week.  Why?  Well I would hope it's because I'm open, honest, tell it as it is and that people feel that they have got to know me through my words.

My blog will continue to do what it says on the tin - it will be posts from the author Amanda Egan - on whichever subject she chooses and that's the way it will remain.

If you decide to come back next week - that's up to you.