More Bernard

Do you remember me telling you about my psychic Bernard?  I've seen him a few times over the years, he can describe me like he's known me all of my life, warts and all, which is why I feel the need to claim him as mine.

This time, the reading is over the phone which, on the plus side, means that he doesn't get go comment on how, judging by how my hands look, I've been around for 400 years.  So funny because, I feel like I'm 400 years old.

For the non believers, how can someone with this gift, tell you almost the exact same thing about yourself, every time they speak to you?  There is no way on earth, that anyone's memory is that good.

So here we go, a run down of what Bernard told me this time:

I feel a desperate need to Spring Clean everything just now, even though it's not Spring
I want to get rid of anything I don't need, and that includes people
I have a sign on my forehead saying; 'can I help you?' (he's told me that several times before,) but all I want to do is tell these people to 'get lost' at the moment.  You just don't have the energy.
(All of the above is true.)
I need a day to relax, if I'm not able to swim, maybe go somewhere and sit by water (I love to be near water.)
Bernard sees a rainbow.  Rainbows are apparently lucky, they appear after a storm.  I need to 'let go' of past events and not try to go back and attempt to fix them.
I'm strong, intelligent, not scary looking
I have OCD (True, true, true, true, true ....)
I have a memory like an elephant yet forget the simplest thing
I am super organised, make endless lists yet forget where I parked at the supermarket (He is so freaky.)
If anyone does anything for me, to help me, they do it wrong, (they really do, it's not just me being me.)
I attract people with problems
I'm with the right person, but we're not together (True, true, true)
I won't want to hear this but there may be a new relationship with someone new, very soon
My life is never simple
He sees two houses, two sets of keys, maybe I'm house sitting?
My property is changing (I need to declutter and do a million jobs)
You like cooking, you're good at it, but you're too tired at present
There is a business opportunity or something new coming on the job front, give it a go
I'm good at organising people, especially men (what do I do with that?)
Promotion or something new on the job front in the next few weeks, not something I apply for
I always do the work of two people
Don't trawl the internet for a relationship, these relationships are not real, no good for me (as I suspected)
You attract people who don't make an effort
You want someone who puts you first
Someone around you, an 'S' likes you
By 21st September, I'll hear about a new job.... (not going to happen as don't return to work until 29th)
By the end of October, I'll be doing something new

Having a conversation with Bernard is comforting because I know that I don't have to pretend anything.  I can't, he'll see right through it.

Interesting, intriguing and comforting, all at the same time.

Seizure

It's eleven weeks since my last physio appointment with my miracle worker Vicki.  'How have you been?'  Quite frankly, I've been stiff and stiffening on a daily basis for the past, well, feels like a million weeks.  I sprained my ankle, (for no reason really, no dramatic trip, fall, just a twinge after a jog, which turned into pain and an enormous, elephantesque swollen ankle, for weeks on end.)

And so, I didn't, couldn't jog for weeks, then when I might have been able to, it was only two or three weeks before the wedding and I couldn't risk having an enormous ankle and being unable to get the fabulous, nude, patent leather, sling back heels on to go with the dress I'd decided on.  So I didn't jog for another few weeks.  As well as not jogging, I also got out of the habit of doing my daily little stretches.  Well, it all added up and conspired against me.  All contributed to seize me up, good style.

Vicki, bless her cotton socks, managed to stretch out my 30 minute appointment to 40 minutes.  Can't tell you how grateful I was or how sore I was afterwards, for at least 3 days, it was probably 4 days if I'm being honest.  It's the sorest I have ever been following a physio session and it was like looking into the future, if I don't do my part, look where it will get me.

Looks like I need to 'embrace' working out, once more.

Asylum Seeker

This week, I watched a TV programme about asylums in England, in the 19th and early 20th century.  This got me thinking about my Great Grandmother Hannah, who died in an asylum in 1923, as far as I know.  The story goes that she was admitted with 'milk fever' following the birth of my Grandfather James.  Now, I assumed that this meant, somehow, Hannah had developed some kind of infection shortly after the birth, which had given her fever, hallucinations, who knows what?  People were committed to asylums for all kinds of reasons at the time, reasons which, these days, are totally treatable, in a non committal way. 

Reasons for admission to a lunatic asylum were; (seriously;) asthma, female disease (?) time of life (?) woman trouble (?) novel reading (really?), menstrual deranged, marriage of son, egotism, epileptic fits, kicked in the head by a horse, laziness, business trouble, immoral life, mental excitement, parents were cousins, grief, snuff eating for 2 years, desertion by husband, feebleness of intellect.

Judging by the descriptions, you had one foot in an asylum if you were female.

Need I go on? Are we agreed that we would all be in there for one reason or another, be it kicked in the head by a horse, parents were cousins, or menstrual derangement, who hasn't been there?

I've searched for 'milk fever' and the entry I found related to a person drinking infected milk.  We'll never know I guess, or at least, we won't know until more records are accessible online.

So far, my cousin Lyn has managed to pinpoint Hannah on the 1891 census, classed as a 'lunatic' and living in an asylum.  I feel quite sad at the thought of her being incarcerated there and I can't imagine  that she had many visitors.  Nor can I imagine being locked away from anyone and everyone I know and love.  My Grandfather James was the youngest, so she was separated from her children, plural.

I've visited Hannah's grave many times since I was very small but I'm ashamed to say that I never really gave her much thought.  Still, even without the full story, I have a  new respect for her.  I was told that she, Hannah, had 'milk fever', that Grandad, her son had visited her, and that she died in an asylum in 1923.  Hannah must have been around 60 years of age when she died and while I have quite a few missing puzzle pieces, it's looking like she spent half of her life within an asylum. 

Ironically, Hannah died the very same year as her husband, after all those years apart, and they are buried together.

I would love, one day to investigate Hannah's story and fill in all of the blanks, piecing together her life. 

The next time I visit Hannah's grave, I will take flowers, especially for her.  Without her, there would be no James, without James, there would be no Dorothy, and without Dorothy, there would be no...