I don’t really like birds all that much – crows, blackbirds, seagulls etc. No thanks. Little garden birds like robins, blue tits, wrens, finches are fine. Might have something to do with Hitchcock’s “The Birds”. Scared the c**p out of me years ago.

BUT I have been fascinated by birds of prey ever since I was a wee girl. My dad, who would have loved a son, got lumbered with me instead so just did all the father/son stuff with me anyway. He made me my first fishing rod, taught me to shoot and gave me an abiding love of nature. I hasten to add here, that although I was a pretty good shot (at targets ) I couldn’t bring myself to shoot the bunnies , wood pigeon, duck , pheasant etc that he did.  The fishing and shooting trips  were not just for fun – everything we caught/shot was brought home, prepared,cooked, eaten and enjoyed.

Sometimes we would pack up a picnic, load up the fishing tackle and head off on his wee motorbike (we didn’t have a car then) with my mum’s words ringing in our ears – “Be careful Sammy. Make sure she doesn’t fall in!” Sometimes we were away all day, walking along riverbanks, through woods, across fields and often we caught nothing, or nothing big enough to bring home for tea. But we might have a bag of blackberries, wild strawberries or hazelnuts instead.  It was during these times that he taught me sooo much about trees, plants, animals,birds AND life. Bear in mind this was in the late 50’s/ early60’s ( oops really dating myself aren’t I?) We would often see kingfishers, otters, rabbits, hares , squirrels – all sort of things.But what really got me excited were owls , buzzards and any other birds of prey we saw hunting.

I can’t really explain why I have been drawn to them and not to other birds. There is just something utterly compelling about them. So imagine how I felt when Stephen told me he had arranged a Falconry experience day as a wedding anniversary present!! I was counting the hours til we could go, and yesterday was the day!

We went to the Northern Ireland School of  Falconry, run by a wonderful chap called John Carmichael. He has such a wealth of knowledge and an obvious love of his birds which he imparts in a very easy, interesting way. We were shown all the birds, given loads of info on each one and had all our questions answered. Stephen was there as a spectator/photographer but apart from actually flying the birds he did everything I did.

Then came the moment I had been waiting for. I put on the falconer’s glove, took a little piece of meat and waited for my first bird – a European Barn Owl -to fly to my hand and take the meat from me. I really cannot put into words what it felt like – to watch it fly towards me , swooping, adjusting its flight to the gusting wind, and then to land gently on the glove and take the meat. Just incredible !!! The owl had been hand reared and so was used to being handled. It sat there quite calmly and allowed me to stroke it. So so soft. I flew it a few more times and then flew another barn owl – again hand reared , calm and seemed to enjoy being stroked.

Then to something totally different – an African Vulture. When you see vultures on tv they usually have their heads  in a dead animal and are covered in blood and guts. You tend to think, ugghh. But actually up close they aren’t at all repulsive.  Maybe not the prettiest bird in the world, but quite comical and very clever. I was a little apprehensive, especially when I saw it flying towards me, coming closer and closer, looking for all the world like a pterodactyl. But I needn’t have worried. It glided down ever so gently, landed on the glove, took the meat and just sat there watching me. I flew it a few more times and thought that was the end of the day. But no, the best was yet to come.

John’s son had been working with a young Harris Hawk and I was going to be allowed to fly it as well. The other birds had been flown in the field but we took the hawk off down the lane. Well, we walked and it flew alongside us -soaring, swooping , landing in trees, on electricity lines, fence posts.  It always knew where we were even though at times we couldn’t see it. But we only had to whistle and it would appear, circle round, and fly to my hand to get its reward. The most thrilling experience of the day. Such a beautiful bird.

We strolled back with the hawk flying beside us to be met by John with the offer of coffee and a chat. We found out lots more about him and the birds. He said that I could have experienced some of the other birds as well, but that  they had been fed and couldn’t be flown.  I was more than happy with my day but he offered me the chance to come again in a few weeks time  if I wanted. IF I WANTED!!!! Just try stopping me.

What I’ve written doesn’t really begin to describe the experience.  If you are even a tiny bit interested find a good falconry centre near you and just do it. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. If you have already done it you will know exactly how it felt.

So that’s another tick on the “bucket list,” what’s next?

We made a wee video. Click to get a taste of my special day.

It had to happen sometime. My baby has grown up and is going away on his first holiday with “the lads” with no mummy and daddy to look after him and keep him safe. Aarrgghh! Well mum did all the fussing while dad probably had another beer.

Where  have the years gone? It seems only yesterday we brought a tiny wee scrap of humanity home from hospital which led to breast feeding (ouch , ouch and then brilliant, ) nappies, potties, weaning, crawling, walking, talking, nursery school, primary school, grammar school, college. Not forgetting  braces,  girls, broken hearts,  teenage angst and 1st summer job.  Then along came shaving, driving lessons, beer, clubbing , 1st real job in IT won and lost all in the space of 8 weeks (due to recession.)

There was so much more as well. The decisions about when he could play out the front of the house instead of in the enclosed back garden; when he could ride his bike on the road; when he could walk to a friend’s house by himself. As he got older the worries  and decisions didn’t get any easier, just different. When could he  have a mobile phone, tv, playstation, go into town with his friends , go for a pint , go to a club etc etc.

We survived, well I survived. My better half is far too laid back  to have really worried and thought  I had him a bit too tethered to the old apron strings.

In hind sight he was probably right – unfortunately he usually is (damn.) But I think that’s just what mums do. Right?

Anyway I know he’s sensible (sort of ) and his mates are all nice lads . They have booked a week in Majorca , have taken out gold insurance, researched the hotel and generally done all the right things. So why am I still terrified? Because although he is 20, towers over me, has a voice in his boots  – he’s still my baby!!

So just to ease my mind (NOT) what have I been watching on TV? Sun, Sea and A & E! Where is it set ? Magalluf. Where is he going ? Magalluf!  Strangely enough my first holiday away with “the girls” many, many, many years ago was to – yes, Magalluf. Mind you that was in the 70’s and it was very sedate and quiet then- just us girls sitting drinking tea and knitting!!!!! If you believe that you’ll believe anything.

As well as his clothes, toiletries, document organiser, security wallet etc I have assembled a veritable pharmacy for him to take with him – ” just in case.” Short of major surgery I think I’ve got it covered. I did draw the line at condoms – he can buy his own!! -” just in case!”

What more can I do? Nothing really . I have to trust we have done a halfway reasonable job as parents and let him go and have fun – the same way our parents did with us. It’s just another step in his journey, one I hope he will enjoy and tell us all (well probably not all) about when he comes home.

There’s just one other tiny detail. When he gets home, we’ll be away on our jollies so he’ll have the house to himself, well apart from the cats and the snake. Why do I hear the words PARTY reverberating round in my head???

Hi it’s me again – the doolally one!

Just re-read my last post about my depression and  realised it was  all about me then, and not about me now. It’s  several years since I went a bit “doolally,” although some would say that’s just my normal state!! So this is an update on my life since my sojurn in the “funny farm.”

I am still taking my “happy” pills . I did try to come off them gradually with the consent of my doc, but  found the darkness slowly creeping back into my life.  I felt very disappointed that I wasn’t strong enough to cope without them. But then, I realised,  I have to take pills every day to help control my ulcerative colitis, so how is it any different taking a pill a day to help control my depression? Answer – it isn’t!

So here I am now, older, wiser, greyer, more wrinkled and having a great life. My darling husband is still with me (no idea why) and my wonderful son is now twenty and has turned out to be a fine young man – in spite of having a bonkers mum!

As I said before, taking the pills sorts out the medical, chemical bit of depression , but I think the main part of recovery is really up to the  individual finding ways of dealing with it on a daily basis.

These are some of the things which have worked for me.

GET OUT OF THE HOUSE. I can’t stress this enough. Yes it’s hard at first but it gets easier. One of my first outings was with Stephen. It was our wedding anniversary and we should have been on a beautiful Greek island, but our holiday had to be cancelled when I went  into hospital. I really did not want to go out but he persuaded me just to go for a drive. We stopped off at a lovely  bay round the coast and had a wee walk, a cappuccino and rhubarb crumble in the cafe and then home. One of the best anniversaries I’ve had – because it was another  step on my road to recovery.

It doesn’t matter where you go – walk to the local shop and buy yourself a treat (Mars bars mmmm) ; go for a coffee with a friend; get the bus into town and  if , like me you can’t  face the crowds – just window shop; walk on the beach and listen to the sound of the sea . If you haven’t got one , borrow a friend’s dog and take it for a walk. Dogs are sociable – they stop and greet each other, so the people walking them do the same. Well, dogs  tend to say “Hi” by sniffing bums – I am not suggesting you do the same! Just say hello and smile .  Yeah I know it all sounds a bit airy fairy  but it really does work. I’m not sure why. I think  being out in the fresh air does you good and this feeling is even better if the sun is shining.

When you are out, smile at people – doesn’t matter if you know them or not. They might think you are weird, but I guarantee someone will smile back. Talk to the person standing beside you at the bus stop, or in the queue for your magazine/choccy bar. They might think you are weird, but I guarantee someone will talk back. Starting  to see the pattern?

I know you are thinking “I just couldn’t do that.”  Yes you can. If  I did it, so can you. It’s all about regaining confidence in yourself. It takes time and there are  days when all you want to do is curl up and hide away. That’s ok. There is always tomorrow. Just because you are on anti – depressants doesn’t mean you wake up with a smile on your face every day .  I’m like a bear with a sore head in the mornings – but that is normal for me.You will have good and bad days – I still do. But it’s learning how to cope with the bad days that is important. Gradually there will be more good days than bad.

I started pottering about in the garden after I came out of hospital. I had always admired lovely gardens but never really thought about trying to create one myself. All we had was some grass , lots of moss, buttercups, daisies and a few shrubs and horrible, sticky , wet clay soil.

I did lots of research on the internet, borrowed gardening books, talked to the folk in local garden centres, neighbours with nice gardens and decided to give it ago. It has taken two years , a lot of hard work, trial and error with plants – but I now have a pretty garden to sit out in and enjoy. There is something incredibly satisfying about digging in the earth, putting in a wee plant and watching it grow into something colourful and beautiful.

If something isn’t growing too well , I have been caught talking to it and issuing ultimatums along the lines of “either buck up your ideas and grow or say hello to the compost heap!” But when they are flourishing I do tell them how beautiful they are and ALWAYS say sorry when I have to prune them.  Well, I am “slightly doolally” after all.

I have tried to encourage wildlife to the garden by  planting things which attract butterflies, bees and birds. I have  put up bird feeders, a bee house and a bird bath.  I also have wind chimes , wind spinners and a few little decorative garden “friends”, but no gnomes – Stephen said a resounding  NO to that. Mind you, it did take him a while to notice the fairy – tee hee!

Even if it isn’t hot enough to sun bathe, it’s lovely just to go outside with a drink (coffee, tea, wine – whatever takes your fancy ), watch the bees going from flower to flower, listen to the chimes tinkling softly, smell the lavender,  read a book or just SIT.

This does seem to be turning into one of my  gardening blogs  – sorry.  With my recovery came a new found confidence in my capabilities so I’ve also decorated the whole house, laid carpet tiles in the study, put on a new outside tap and learned a fair bit about computers. My latest venture is learning Greek, very difficult but I’m not doing too bad.

I think what I’m really trying to say in my usual waffly way is , you can have a really good life while living with depression. The saying “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is TRUE.

I am SO thankful I reached out and asked for help. If I hadn’t, I honestly don’t think I would be here,  blogging on the internet, planning a special holiday to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary ,  getting excited about my free bus pass (NOT ), and all the other things I plan to do with the rest of my life .

Even if the things which have helped me don’t appeal to you, there will be something which does – you just have to make the effort to find it.

If you want to follow my daft life you will find me here and on Twitter. Love to you all, stay healthy, think positive and remember, things can and do get better.  Val  🙂

I’ve been thinking of writing about my experience of depression for a while but have kept  putting it off. I have no trouble talking to friends about it, but somehow the thought of publishing it here for the world to see is a bit scary, very scary actually.

A wee bit of background info – well more than a wee bit. I do tend to ramble.

Eight years ago, after months of attending the GP with increasingly severe pain and symptoms and finally seeing a consultant,  I was diagnosed as having Ulcerative Colitis – an incurable but manageable bowel disease. For the next three years I seemed to spend much of my life on the toilet, or trying desperately to get to one on time and not always succeeding! The daily medication included taking 6-8 tablets large enough to be used as stepping stones – at least that is what they felt like as I tried to swallow them. Then the nightly highlight of administering a retention enema. Those of you of a squeamish disposition – skip a few lines! Imagine squeezing a full bottle of frothy shampoo up your bum and having to keep it there and you’ve got the idea! When things were really severe I had to take steroids as well – NOT a good experience and one which has left me with oesteoporosis.

Anyway, things  settled into  a routine of flare-ups and remission, and I learned to cope, sometimes well and sometimes dissolving into a wallow of self pity.

Around this time our son was going through the usual teenage rebellious phase. Normally I would have coped well, but stressing about him just made my colitis worse.

Then my lovely mum in  law was diagnosed with breast cancer for the second time. She was in her mid 70s and was devastated at the thought of a second mastectomy and  follow up treatment. My parents died a long time ago and she has been my “Mum” for over twenty years so naturally I was really worried about her. After her surgery Steve and I did most of the “looking after” as my two sisters in law don’t live nearby.  So more stress and worry. Happy update. She is nearly80 now and is fine.

So,I was coping well with everything, wasn’t I?  After all, I was a strong,sensible, intelligent, independent woman. That’s what I kept telling myself anyway. I had my “public” face that I showed my loved ones and the world beyond, but I knew deep down inside that there was something terribly wrong – I just didn’t know what it was.

As the days, weeks and months went by things gradually got worse. I  ate less and less – not deliberately – food just made me feel sick; I couldn’t sleep; I didn’t want to get out of bed ; I couldn’t read and I LOVE reading;  I had no enthusiasm for anything. I developed an agonising pain in my lower abdomen which never went away. I was poked and prodded by various doctors , one of whom more or less told me he thought I was a neurotic menopausal woman!  I was put on medication for anxiety and given increasingly heavy duty pain killers which I became addicted to. The side effects of these were dreadful and I had to go through withdrawal  to get myself off them.

I felt – well – that’s the thing – I didn’t FEEL anything. Maybe lost, somehow, but even now years later, I struggle to try to explain to anyone what my depression is like.

It was like being surrounded by blackness with no way out. I wasn’t ME anymore. Nothing mattered. I knew my darling husband and son loved me and were worried but I couldn’t do anything about it.  I stayed in bed day after day, leaving my husband to do everything I should be doing. I cried uncontrollably and didn’t know why. I lost about  two stone  and felt weak and sick all the time.

I saw my GPs many times. They were sympathetic and continued  treating me for anxiety and panic attacks, but there was no real improvement.

One morning Stephen had gone to work, son and heir had gone to school and I was lying in bed. I had a  sudden, totally  overwhelming feeling of despair and hopelessness.   I picked up a pillow, held it over my face and wondered how hard would I have to press and how long would it take? A fleeting and terrifying thought. I rang Stephen, he rushed home and I was admitted to the local psychiatric unit within hours.

I was terrified – I didn’t know what to expect or what was going to happen. I only knew I needed help.

I was in the “nut house – the funny farm!” Would there be bars on the windows? Would I be locked in?Would there be people screaming, moaning and rocking endlessly?  I had never met anyone who had any form of mental illness  never mind been in  a psychiatric ward. Well maybe I had but they just didn’t tell anyone!

HOW WRONG  could I have been? The other patients were just like you and me . Normal ordinary folk who, for whatever reason needed help for mental illness. The first few days WERE difficult, but the staff were wonderful and slowly but surely things started to get better. The “happy pills” dealt with the chemical imbalance in my brain, while the various therapies – art, music, relaxation, group&individual “talking therapies” helped me understand how to deal with life again.

Fortunately I didn’t have to stay too long and was allowed home with follow up sessions at the out patients dept.

It wasn’t an instant fix. I had to work hard to stay well and still  do.

I have written this , partly for me , but also to encourage others to talk or write about their depression. It really does help and maybe if enough of us do, it will help to diminish the social stigma which still surrounds the whole subject of mental illness.

Just to end, I have to say that without the love and support of the most wonderful man in the world – my husband, my son and family , I’m not sure I would be here . Thank you is SO inadequate.

It is now a week  since I had my colonoscopy done , so I thought I would jot down a few thoughts. From one extreme to the other! The prep had me glued to the loo for hours unable to stop “going”. Now the reverse is true – I am glued to the loo desperately trying to “go”.  I think my insides have decided that they did enough in one day last week to warrant an extended holiday.

Because of my disease taking laxatives is a no-no, so have been increasing my fibre intake and drinking extra water, to no avail. There have been a few gentle gurgles and rumblings so maybe things are on the move. Fingers crossed.

My next medical encounter is at the well woman clinic for my smear test -oh joy. Just another one of those things which we women know we have to do, but don’t relish the thought of it.

I  think my next blog really should be about something completely different, hmm,  I’m off to have a think . Here’s hoping for good weather this weekend so whatever you are doing – enjoy. 🙂