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Reflections…Week Thirty Eight

Again no poem this week, to be honest I miss working one out, but one has been busy writing.

One would like to say on a book, or something positive. Alas it has been more sombre than that. A couple of services that I use have, under the guise of being — Non Clinical — lost or in the process of loosing funding.

I have written a Blog on the subject (1345 words) , but since it links with both of the charities, I have asked that the donating information be approved by head office. The others are statements from myself on the use of the services and the benefits one has received (3526 words and 1016 words).

I don’t think I wrote that much on my wind generator project  paper at college, and that was worth 40% of the final exam score.

Fed up of quietly complaining, one will endeavour to pick out the positives that have come from the reading of my work, by support workers and head office. In a swamp of bleh, One will try to be a firefly (the little insect not the spacecraft, although that would be cool).

All have said I am talented, writing this still does not make that statement feel about me, yet.

I have been asked if my work can be used by fundraising manager and the chief exec .

That’s my work, being sent to the big boss, and not to get me into trouble.

I have to admit it did feel like one was being reported to the Head master a wee bit more than one would have liked, thank you Mr Street, the fear of being sent to you in infant school has stuck with me, the reason why I was in trouble has not, but now I know this is part of my inferiority complex with authority figures. Knowing this connection is a positive insofar as it can now be worked on.

And, I accepted the compliments, with the grace of a new born foal, but I accepted them. This is on the back of words from the poetry group organiser, because one went, “hmmm”, as thanks for a compliment. I nearly got told off for saying “sorry” as my response to those ‘words.’

So in effect one has written something that could, in its own way, make a difference, a positive difference, to someone else life.

Thats a long way from when I wrote my first blog.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2017

Side note to self- will start work on a new poem Monday.

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Reflections…Week Thirty Seven

canstockphoto8630797No poetry again this week. Instead one went the route of writing a short story for a competition, the entry date has long since gone past, but I had the idea for it and therefore it needed to be written. I always have it for another competition that matches the criteria.

At first I thought that writing a short story at 500 words, the last one entered, would be challenging, not that the word count would be too much, rather that since some blogs have gone well past that number, one expected to struggle to keep it from going past. This one, and the reason it was put off so long, was 250 words, to put that in perspective this reflection has reached half that number now.

There is a knack to writing these stories and to those that do it for magazines on a regular basis have tremendous skill to not have each one repeating the descriptive paragraphs used. There is very little room for manoeuvrability in the story line. No time really to lead one down a false path in order to throw in that red herring. It seems to rely heavily on the pace to throw in a quick diversion in order to get away with it. There is no time to be detailed at the description, no Tolkien valley paragraphs, no, this is more a describe the mugger affair.

Even with my limited knowledge and writing skill, I have to say I am quite chuffed with the result!

250 words

Footnote…

Yes I know that getting the word count was anal, but that is how my dysfunctional mind works, at times it can help, at others it’s a prison cell. However it it bothers you or elicited a reaction then you have to ask yourself the question…”WHY”.

 

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2017

Reflections…Week Thirty Six

canstockphoto8630797I love squirrels. No matter how bad the week, I can plonk down on a seat or wall with Spot and be entertained. Everything they do seems to be playfully done, whether it be escaping a potential predator, a quick run to the nearest tree then lets play peek-a-boo, or just looking for something to eat, why walk when you can hop, jump and a skip.

They don’t even care that you are watching them, once they reckon you are safe, or do they play the fools more? I haven’t quite worked that out yet.

This year they seem to be fervently eating and collecting nuts, a sign of a long winter? I would have said cold years ago but it seems more soggy than snowy over the past couple of years, I have yet to build a snowman with my son, it never seems to last that long, nowadays our winters seem more like a colder version of our summers.

So on the walk with Spot this afternoon, I sat a little while and just watched the squirrels doing what squirrels do whilst gorging on conkers, some were running around almost appearing drunk in the aimless directions they were taking, all the time holding a conker, that was nearly the size of their heads, in their mouths.

Occasionally they would turn and look our way, either to keep an eye on the thing over there, or was I and my chuckling, their entertainment?

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2017

#Lloyds Bank – Warning!

Aaaaaagh, could be one way to put it, #@%$#^$! #%@^*&^% Lloyds Bank could be another. And I had been a near lifelong customer.

Not one for being diligent with money, or partners, in the past, I, like so many others with mental health problems, ended up in debt. Last month I finally managed to sort things out with the help of CAB (Citizens Advice Bureaux for those not in the UK), I would recommend enlisting their help on a range of subjects. The route I took avoided Bankruptcy, so the bank accounts I have, with little money in, were not affected.

Then along come Lloyds Bank, Without notification, they decide to close my main bank account, the one money gets deposited into and refused to let me have the funds held in it. Saying that it was the insolvency team that did it at first, they had no idea what the bank was talking about, and then saying it was standard practice. To unlock the funds I had to go back to the CAB who contacted the Insolvency team to get a letter stating they had NO interest in the account.

Then how did I find out?

My mobile provider sent a text that the Direct Debit had not come out, I went online (Lloyds Internet Bank) to find that there was the money in at that date, but no transaction was showing, I assumed that it was a problem with the DD. I needed some money out so I thought I would sort it after visiting the cashpoint.

Notice how I went onto the Online bank!

The cashpoint would not let me get cash or let me see my balance, so off to the bank to find out why my card is not working and why the DD failed. They thought it was the card at first until something was flagged on the account. Long story short – This is how I found out, No telephone call, No text, No email, No letter and, this is the best part I think, No message on the Online Banking, on that everything appeared normal, I found out standing at the counter, trying to keep calm.

The thought then was that it was an account that I could have credit with, I love how they say I could have credit with (overdraft), when in reality I could apply to have, or, be refused, without the banks approval it’s a mute point. The option to apply for one is on my other two accounts.

One is for Main DD’s plus a little floater for when they get taken out early with a standard amount going in to cover. The other was opened to control my spending whilst shopping, with a set budget. The main account (Lloyds) was to send the money to each account and build a little extra up with the leftovers.

So now I had to go into each of the other banks and ask the question…“Is my bank account being closed?”

I got strange looks until I explained what was going on, turns out, they are not, so not quite standard practice then.

Lloyds have in the past changed my address to one that I never lived at, no I was not hacked, My EX had changed her address to this one, and because in the past I once had a joint account with her, closed at this point, they changed mine to her address and sent my mail to her. She was just as confused as me. Internal error! I can honestly say I will not miss this bank.

It is their right, as it is with any bank, to close an account, I am not disputing that right at all, I just think it should be my right to be told about it, by the bank doing it, so I can alter my finances and make alternate arrangements for money going into and out of an account. I would have had to open an account with another bank if I did not already have that option in place.

So WARNING if you bank with Lloyds Bank – It appears to be STANDARD practice for this bank to CLOSE your account WITHOUT letting you KNOW about it. 

Who are my other banks?

Santander and the co-op Bank.

My complaint is in the post!

 

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/

 

Home…#poem#poetry

Home

What is home?

Home is not tied to the land where we live,
the country we’re born or the people we’re with.
We build our new homes on land where we stand,
do we get more if majestic or grand?

More home in a mansion, than house or a flat?
Some people will float on boat with a cat.
A caravan large, and a caravan small,
even a motorhome; the name says it all.

Some live in a tent, or even in snow.
But that’s not quite true, Just think, and you’ll know.
That leaves the street, for those named – Home-less.
If thats’s not enough, we can always oppress.

A tunnel, a bridge, a doorway’s alright.
A place to lay down, a “home” for the night.
So a home is not in, the places we build,
but rather, within, a hole to be filled.

A home to be happy, or even be sweet.
That doesn’t quite fit with those on the street.
Some people can’t wait till they get back home,
others they dread, or fear being alone.

So home is a feeling that needs to be fed,
not just a place where we lay our head.
It matters not even if happy or sad,
so long as we feed it, the good or the bad.

Can we control it, this feeling of home?
Whether in group , or standing alone.
Or are we its servant, its slave if you will.
To never quite manage, its hunger – fulfil.

 

 

 

A § M
1/9/2017

Reflections…Week Thirty Five

canstockphoto8630797At times one feels as though life expects one to be permanently medicated, but I don’t.

The fat assed black dog has been doing its best to weigh me down, and to be honest, with how the last couple of months have gone, I have noticed him there.

Apart from the personal situations that have changed, an influential figure on my recovery has left, and with her leaving comes uncertainty on the groups future. Luckily this leaving does not have the almost violent sense of loss as a former influential figure, retirement is far calmer than redundancy, but the loss is felt.

Now here is where the black dog works his poison. Uncertainty leads to the fear of the unknown. When something is unknown all manner of horrors are true, happy thoughts whilst being under the shadow of this dirty, stinking, slobbering beast are not a many. So inwards I go, like a tortoise into its shell, and like the tortoise I find protection within.

And like the tortoise one will starve if one never comes out again.

However, retreating inwards for an introvert offers a sanctuary. A place to think, contemplate and work out a response, but it only works if the dog is kept outside behind a door. That is the difference this time, I have locked him out!

Sure I can hear him howling outside the door, I have to invest in double glazing, but this time he is outside. He is outside – without the use of medication.

One step at a time.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2017

Puddle…#poem#poetry

Puddle

If your mind’s containerises,
each memory then is just a drop.
And when the droplets do combine,
the puddle it grows, it need not stop.

There is no shape to work towards,
no master drop design.
No matter are the bumps bellow,
twill surface not define.

A child can in puddle splash,
and send in all directions.
But most will flow to puddle back,
be still, and show reflections.

Tears will the puddle grow,
whether sadness or of joy.
The saltiness diluted out,
matter not from girl or boy.

From puddle to pool and then to lake,
great depth the surface hide.
And with the wind a movement make,
to ebb and flow the tide.

With water you can take a drink,
or even let it flow.
You cannot cage it with your bars,
around it puddle will grow.

The mind 2 of 2
A § M
22/8/2017