I woke up this morning feeling very sorry for myself. Sometime in the last 24 hours or so I have managed to either scratch it or get a bit of grit in my left eye and Tony isn’t here to make it better. The memory of him sitting me down and peering into my opticals so closely that it usually ended up as a snog session got the tears going. Unfortunately the leakage didn’t solve the problem.

It’s been a funny old week and I apologise for the lateness in posting the musings. See above. The builders are doing the final touches to the extension which would have been finished except for the small omission in my forgetting to order the floor. However the open space has been very useful in the evenings as a canine gladiator arena. I think the terriers are winning. The crowd is a little noisy but at least they aren’t underfoot anymore. Hopefully they will have the back garden to express their feelings in the next couple of days which is quite important because we have a sort of new addition to chez Knollys. A few days ago I spotted a very well-dressed man eyeing up the garage conversion. To cut a long story short he wanted to buy it but I said it was in no condition to be sold and anyway I didn’t want to separate it from the rest of the property. so he’s going to rent it, renovate it and live in it for a little monthly discount. Don’t worry, I got the legal docs and he sent references before I had asked. And he’s a nice guy. And he likes dogs. And it’s one less thing for me to worry about.

I finish on the subject that all of you seem to want to know about. That dating thing. Well….. I went on a date! Correction, Yogi Bear and I went on a date as one doesn’t meet a stranger without an escort/protection detail. Bears can be quite scary and let’s face it, he is a very popular guest at the Great North Wood pub. Suffice to say both Yogi and I had a very nice evening and I surprised myself with my self-confidence, I wasn’t nervous at all. I think my growing independence gives me a sort of ‘take me as I am or leave it’ kind of attitude or it could be that we had spoken a lot on the phone beforehand so the conversation flowed. I feel quite proud of this old lady for taking a small step in perhaps the right direction. Just follow the Bear……

“Some of my best leading men have been dogs and horses.” (Elizabeth Taylor)

“

You know that old saying, “when one door closes, another door opens’? Well, I’m sort of standing in the hallway with a hand on the hatch handle ready to take that leap into the world of being single. Now that T’s estate has finally closed, I can make a few plans for the future.

This week, the BBC have run a series of programmes across the TV and radio about being single. What I managed to find time to listen to was quite uplifting, it never ceases to amaze me how we find the strength to roll with the punches. Whilst none of us choose to be a widow or widower unless you commit murder and if that’s the case I’m not including you in this conversation, the decisions we make on the road ahead are ours alone. Friends and family will put their two pennies worth in and support groups may offer advice but ultimately the direction you choose is up to you. And I’m feeling a teeny bit excited about what’s next. Don’t get me wrong, I would have preferred to continue life’s journey with Tony but that door’s closed. Just me, myself and I. Oh and Callum. And 10 dogs. And who knows, maybe I’ll find someone else to bring up the rear.

As for the dating progress, well I haven’t actually been on any dates yet but I have done plenty of chatting. In fact, I spent 3 hours the other evening talking to one chap who was a laugh a minute and an avid dog lover. Interestingly he asked me if I was put off by his photo (to be honest I only remembered that vaguely, it was his height that I noticed!) to which I answered no and why? As long as you are taller than me, not 20 years younger than me and someone who makes me laugh you will go a long way in my estimations. My mother once told me that you will know the man you fall in love with because you can imagine what you will look like together in your eighties. Considering I’m more than halfway there it’s easier to envision now. I’ve got the wobbly bits, the wisdom, the woofers and the wrinkles, deal with it.

“Old dogs, like old shoes, are comfortable. They might be a bit out of shape and a little worn around the edges, but they fit well.” (Bonnie Wilcox. Author)

Have you ever had one of those weeks were you start off-kilter and finish pretty much in the same position? Well, that’s how the last 7 days have seemed at chez Knollys; stifling, irritating, emotional see-sawing and downright grumpy. And that’s not just me. The dogs seems to be as affected by the week’s imbalance as their Mum. I know my temperamental conversations with the Tony and the universe (the “why me?” is back with a vengeance) could do with a volume control at times but it seems my quieter, mopey moods hit their sensitive spots. Every dog owner knows their pooch is an empathetic creature but it’s easy to forget that my brood haven’t exactly been spared the last year’s rollercoaster ride either.

Callum left for France in the middle of the week which put a downer on everyone. Yogi Bear as many of you know, takes departing of any sort to heart. Suffice to say that I have had to move him onto my bed and pillow to help with his emotional trauma. Whilst the others are less worried about when Callum will return, they are confused about my mental attitude towards feeding time. As far as they’re concerned, the fact that Mum has to trip over at least three of them to get their vital nutritional intake ready for consumption should not result in slanderous language. To help matters, Coco ‘George Clooney’ Loco has developed an uncanny imitation of a barking seal at mealtimes which he can maintain until the bowl appears in front of him.

However I think the biggest bug-bear of the week was the somewhat anti-climatic appearance of the extension floor, well part of it anyway. I was so excited to learn it was finally going down but the realisation that the builders are still way behind put me in a bit of a funk. It’s lovely to look at now the doorway between the hallway and extension is open but we can’t go in, sort of like looking at a swimming pool with no water. It doesn’t help that the long running battle with the solicitor of Tony’s estate rumbles on so budget is still the primary word in my daily mantra. And then there’s the heat. With the dogs and I only having the front garden to sit and roll on, time outside is limited because Mo and Neo see the front gate in the same way Trump sees the Mexican border. Frankly, it’s mortifying to watch innocents jump out of the skin when the two suddenly start their canine equivalent of machine gun noise from behind the fence. I don’t even want to mention the grass or lack of now. Luckily I keep the inside of the house, the bit we can lounge in, cool so the older dogs prefer the more meditative atmosphere of the front room. That is until Arry brings a pet rock in from the front garden and drops it on the newly washed wooden floor…………

“If a dog will not come to you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience.” (Woodrow Wilson 28th President of the United States)

There is no doubt in my mind that the sudden appearance of summer contributes to my change in mood but as I sat on the front stoop last night bathed in the evening warmth, I felt a weird sense of calm. Note the word ‘stoop’ as opposed to doorstep, it sounds much more whimsical doesn’t it? Think green pastures, frolicking puppies, cowboy hat and a tall glass of iced tea. The lines of the parallel universe, the one where I was still married to Tony, seem to be fading and I’m not trying to keep that channel open anymore. I’m getting used to being me.

I spent a lot of the week with various friends, catching up over drinks and dog walks. It’s slowly occuring to me that I can do whatever I like without having to compromise although I do tell Callum where I am even if it goes in one headphone and out the other. I think my confidence in making solo decisions is getting there although I still have moments of self-doubt. I’m still useless at household finances though but I have discovered the word ‘budget’ which to many is a revelation. But the future still scares me. Yes, I can go out with no one asking me when I will be back, I can buy things without anyone tutting at me and the new extension is designed entirely as moi would like it but I’m how long will the feeling of happy independent me last? I wish I’d stop worrying so much and just enjoy the calmness I have now instead of thinking of the years ahead.

On the plus side, if you ever wanted to get a personal boost, online dating is the perfect panacea. Its also great fun in that you have an imaginary red button you can press when the 5 ft tall, 21 year old sends you a message. This is also much more fun when done with girlfriends and a bottle of Pinot Grigio. I have however chatted to one or two who seem genuine and are happy to stick to the friendship boundaries. The idea of actually dating anyone still terrifies me but I think as long as I bring Arry with me I should be ok, he is a great judge of character. I suppose once I’ve got over the first one, the rest might be less daunting. And to Alex I ask, “when do I tell him I have 10 dogs?”…..

“Don’t accept your dog’s admiration as conclusive evidence that you are wonderful.” (Ann Landers)

I have noticed recently that some people treat you as ‘short of a few brain cells’ once you become a widow. The logical side is apparently the most deeply affected, I am obviously unable to make decisions without their ‘expertise’. As I have mentioned before in my previous blogs, I have had to learn all about household finances and where to find them, I just don’t remember repeating any wedding vows that included one of us losing the grey cells should the worst happen. Of course, those of you who know me well know that I have developed selective hearing over the years, much like my dogs. I know they mean well but I have to learn by my own mistakes and that may well include a few mishaps on the dating game.

Making a decision about sharing any part of my future with someone other than Tony has mixed emotions, after all we were a partnership that had lasted 28 years and frankly, I assumed 28 more. I trusted him completely and the idea of ever loving anyone else is the furthest thing from my mind. But here’s the thing. At 25, you are attracted to that certain someone that makes your heart go boom and your nether regions go bing. At 52, you want a companion to share your common interests with but not necessarily your bed. Over the last year I have become quite the independent woman but I do miss having someone to talk to over a meal or better still, go on holiday with. Arry and Alice may share my duvet but I can’t really have a debate on current politics over a pizza.

If I could give any useful advice on filling out out dating questionnaires, I would say ask a friend. And do it with a glass or two to bring on the giggles once your ‘advert’ goes live. I have no desire to get married again or have anymore children, I think my being 52 with a 20 year old son and 10 dogs should be a clue but I would like to hope there is someone out there that fits the mould. As the saying goes, the power is in my hands. and so far I’m enjoying the experience.

“Dogs never bite me. Just humans.” (Marilyn Monroe)

My new relationship with myself isn’t going well at the moment. Me and I have had a bit of tiff over my lack of financial savvy which, although a common issue with couples I’m sure, is rather important when one is “tout seul’.

Tony was the sensible one in our marriage, he was the Stewart accountant. I, however, have always had a somewhat ‘loose’ attitude towards the Bank of England. Actually I called it eternal optimism much to Tony’s dismay. I’m embarrassed to admit that I know next to nothing about mortgages, interest rates or meter readings. In fact, the first time the electric company needed one, I had to ask a friend which meter it was. Tony always took care of everything, romantic yes but I realise now, highly impractical. Note to Government, a college course in household financial wizardy?

However, I’m learning how to be sensible. Quickly. I’ve banned take-aways even though they are so convenient when living in a kitchen-less house because of the builders and I’m much more store own brand even when choosing the above kitchen design. Thanks to my money saving expert of a neighbour, Michelle, I have finally been trained in the ways of Ebay. I’m going to get T-shirts printed with the “Be More Michelle” slogan. Luckily the woofers aren’t too fussed about their daily diet or sleeping arrangements but I would like to point out that they eat far healthier then I do and their ‘personal exercise assistants’ cost a small fortune. Running my own household is not going to be as simple as I had envisioned but I’m learning.

And I am determined to keep my eternal optimism cap on, Tony would expect nothing less. Of course, I’ll keep playing the Lotto too…….

“If I had a pound for every time my dog made me smile.. I’d be a millionaire.”  ( Steph Harris)

About six months after Tony died, I made a rash and I would suggest one glass too many, decision to join an online dating agency. I know, internet browsing and alcohol don’t mix well but it was a lonely and confusing time post T. I must look back at my blogs and check my mindset me thinks. Anyway, whatever the reason I filled in the questionnaire and posted my bio. Two weeks later, I cancelled the subscription. I definitely wasn’t ready for all those 26 year olds swooning at my photograph, dark glasses and all. I would like to point out, I did not check the box for someone younger or shorter than me but it seemed that I attracted 5 foot 2 twenty-somethings.

Fast forward to current 12 month status and I’m in a happier place. Or at least a more settled one. I feel as if I’ve grown wings for the first time in a long while. Reducing my work load has given me the chance to spend time with friends and oddly, discover London. But it hasn’t been easy, there were, and still are, days when you just don’t want to leave the house. But you force yourself to because the alternative is miserable. So I’m learning to be me again. However, there’s no denying that I miss the fun of having a companion to share the daily grind with. I don’t see myself falling in love again to be honest and my bed, well let’s face it I have very snuggly bodies to share it with.

A great friend is determined to pen the right profile for me when I next decide to throw myself into the dating pool again, she’s even taken proper photos of me looking vaguely presentable without sunglasses. I think Alice looks better than me in the photos but then she’s an all round man eater of a Border terrier. She thinks yoga, loves nights out with friends, museums, hates flying and I’m thinking yes but there is a small but important point. This gal has 10 dogs. Maybe answers on a postcard please?

” if you eliminate smoking and gambling, you will be amazed to find that almost all an Englishman’s (woman ahem) pleasures can be, and mostly are, shared by the dog” (George Bernard Shaw)

One of the most frustrating things about trying to start life again as a widow is that no one else is on your boat. And to make matters worse, the proverbial vessel is chained to the dock and you’re the only one without the key. I don’t do well in boats, I get seasick looking at them. Less looking out at a new horizon, more pacing the poop deck.

Tony was forever telling me to be patient and slow down and let someone else have control. He also told me to always read the instructions but as there doesn’t appear to be any for this particular boat it’s difficult to change the habit of a lifetime. I think the feeling of helplessness at not being able to save Tony from that cancer bitch has probably added to my need to be in the driver’s seat so it’s incredibly frustrating when others don’t move at the same pace. Apart from Arry, my German Shepherd. He and I both have the insane stop and full speed mentality except that I don’t feel the need to bolt out the front door no matter how many times it’s opened, do a garden circuit and bolt back in again. Why do dogs do that?

The biggest headache is not being able to get answers from the solicitor dealing with Tony’s estate. I have absolutely no control here and honestly, I’m bashing my head against a brick wall hence the above. A snail could get to the finish line quicker. Not knowing how you can plan your next journey means you just go round and round in circles. To add to this, the extension is on hold as the builders are waiting for the last steel to hold the kitchen ceiling up so they can finish the job. The warehouse has it but they are waiting for a delivery driver so poor Tommy and co. are sitting twiddling their thumbs. I know the feeling. And then there’s my window guy who has to find a time slot to replace the decaying glass and my tree man has fallen out with his girlfriend and I hate to bother him with ‘when can you finish the job?’. Bit insensitive even if I am stomping my feet. The only consolation is that I’m not spending any money which definitely puts me in the ‘doing something novel’ category in Tony’s books.

So I stand on my little ship (my father in law always told me off when I called a ship a boat) with my four legged deck hands keeping the waters calm until we can steer straight ahead.. Except Arry, he’s still looking for the door keys. I know the feeling….

The most affectionate creature in the world is a wet dog (Ambrose Bierce)

Well, I’ve made it through the first year without Tony. I don’t think it actually qualifies me for any accolades or money off vouchers but thanks to my besties, four fifty-somethings let loose in Ramsgate made the weekend one to remember for all the right reasons. And now that the jet lag has dissipated, I feel a strange sense of calmness seeping into me. It’s like stepping into the sun at L’Horte (the family home in France) after 12 hours in a car. A sense of peace. I am suddenly just me. Not us, ours, we, they. Just me.

Callum called me into his sacred space (parent speak for bedroom) the other day, he had been transferring old camcorder tapes onto his computer. Video footage from time with friends before we were married to the special day, honeymoon and beyond. He asked me if I wanted to watch any of it, funny because I still find it difficult to watch any of Macgyver but I had a weird need to have a peek. A couple of hours later, Cal and I were laughing and commenting on Tony’s antics, the 90’s fashion and most definitely our son’s youthful parents! There were so many happy memories on those tapes and not once did I feel emotionally distraught, on the contrary I felt like my body had an inner smile. We did good T. Sadly the camcorder was replaced by the mobile phone by the time Cal was born so we don’t have his early years on video. Phones get changed and content lost sadly. I’m making the decision to back up all my phone video content tout suite, memories are irreplaceable. And now, I suppose, it’s time to make new ones. Who knows what the future holds but for the moment, I have to learn a whole new language. It’s called Me.

“I am because my little dog knows me” (Gertrude Stein)

My dearest Wormy,

It’s been a year since I held you in my arms. I still can’t get my head around the fact that you are no longer here, I feel like I’m living in some sort of parallel universe and at some point everything will return to what it was. I can still hear you, feel you lying beside me in bed watching your DVD’s and smell your ‘life’s okay now you’re here’ smell. I can still see your incredible blue eyes light up when you laugh and and your lip tic because you can never lie. I miss you. I would like to point out that the football hasn’t helped, I’m sorry Liverpool didn’t quite get there but you still have the Champions League . I hope you haven’t broken any chandeliers up there with your leaping about.

Life would be a lot less stressful if you were here by the way, just so you know. Your will and estate alone has caused me no end of anxiety and sleepless nights, I never knew you were so complicated darling. Mind you, you’d probably tell me to be patient and it’ll all get sorted eventually. I’m trying. Dickie as ever has been your best friend and a calming influence for you know who. I’m sorry for swearing at you so much but I don’t have your chest to lean on.

The Coven girls are taking me away this weekend. They have been the best friends a girl could ever have. I wish you could have met Alex, you would have loved her and Tom. They have been a tower of strength for both me and Cal. And Cal has been accepted on his college course, I’m a beyond proud mum. You have amazing friends too but you know that. The footie gang , Phil who refuses to let me wallow in grief, the best neighbours in Michelle and Trevor, Cheryl, Simon and Oliver. They’ve all badgered and prodded me to make sure I’m okay. And our families of course.

I’m sure you’ve noticed the renovations on chez Knollys, you would have liked them but not the money I’m spending. Oops. I’m sorry about the Camellia too but hopefully it will get over the trauma and blossom again. I’m sure you are pleased with my decisions on the work front, very overdue but I know you would be proud of me for taking that step. It’s a step without you though. I was a bit nervous about your reaction to my tattoo but I like it and you know I never do what others expect. The dogs have been my backbone over the last 12 months, I would never have kept my sanity without them. Mind you, they’ve driven me to insanity on a regular basis too. Yogi is better now that Callum is home but I think if he could talk, he’d need a therapist. I will never know a dog’s thoughts after they watch their human pass away in front of them. I hope you don’t mind the lilac colour in the bedroom, it calms me.

I miss you babe. It’s a weird existence without you but I thank you for Callum. He’s my rock just like his father. I suppose I’ll come to terms with the word ‘widow’ eventually, your Mum is right, it’s a horrible name tag. At least I have the woofers to add though. Say hi to your Dad and all my furries up there; Scout, Hero, Rupert, Jordi, Amor, Ash and my beloved MacGyver. Always know that I love you babe and you are remembered forever by all of us down here.

I love you always and forever…. (ditto)

Sonic xx