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I am hopping mad right now. It has been an hour since he pissed me off and while I'm not pissed off with him anymore and have cooled down a bit I am at myself for allowing it to get out of control. Yet again I should add. I should have kept my cool and replied back in kind, but I didn't so I've come here to complain and have a moan and groan session.

What happened? I asked a really simple question!
Out of curiosity and because I really wanted to know. We're still in that stage of getting to know each other better. Though it feels like we've known each other a lifetime, there is still a lot I don't know. So when he told me he was musical and had rhythm I asked what kind of instrument he played, I already knew he could dance.
And then I asked if he still played but he doesn't play the clarinet anymore. On occasion a recorder was his reply. So when I ask what a recorder is all I get is "noisy". Aaaaarrrrgh.

That made me feel like such a fool, why should I bother asking him questions if all I'm going to get are flippant answers when all I want is to know what something is. Was that such a stupid question to ask? I really don't know what a recorder is and why should I know. I can dance, whistle a tune, sing on occasion but I do not know every bloody fucking instrument on the face of this earth or even want to. And when I do ask, I really do want to know.
When I ask a stupid question I'll expect a dumbass reply.

Fair's fair, I have asked some really dumb questions and don't mind in the least being teased about them in fact I actually really enjoy it. I like to tease and be tease, I love a man with a quick witted sense of humor, I love playing with words, innuendo, double-entendres and downright talking "dirty." I get off on words.

So I told him his answer irritated me, made me feel stupid and I wondered why I bothered asking the question if all I could get was a flippant answer. I told him I was going to go to the kitchen instead to cool down a bit. But when I got back I was still annoyed and went offline. Childish I know but I did it anyway. So two emails later I know what a bleedin' recorder is, he's sorry for hurting me and I have once again hurt his feelings. Seems whatever I do I end up hurting him by being moody and temperamentful, saying or doing the wrong thing.
I just can't win can I? And I know he feels the same with me. Is it worth it? Is any of it worth it anymore if all we end up doing is hurting each other?

I just haven't got the energy anymore, the madness has gone. All I want to do now is cry, but I'm too tired for that.

 

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I can't stop crying.
There was nothing wrong with me a few minutes ago, everything was fine and now it's like a floodgate has opened and I can't stop.
I was looking at some pics of Quebec and I miss my baby so much. It hurts so much not to have him with me, I want him here with me and not dead in his grave so far away. Will the pain ever end?

 

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I suppose apprehension is as good a word as any. In one week's time I'm off to England to meet Steve.
I'm excited about meeting him, hoping he'll like me, that we'll get on, looking forward to a first kiss, first hug, first cuddle, feeling a man's hands on me, arms around me, feeling wanted again. Hoping to be found. Afraid of it as well.

I'm looking forward great sex, looking forward to comfortable sex, lets just say looking forward to sex. It's not what I miss the most, I can't even begin to say what I miss the most, there's is no most and yet there is and it's all tied up with loving someone so much that at times I don't want to go on living anymore. These last weeks have been so hard. Thoughts I never imagined having, have come to me.

I'm hoping Steve and I won't have yet another argument or misunderstanding. There have been quite a few since we first connected, but nothing major lately. We have been able to figure out what went awry and put them behind us. I've been trying to be as relaxed as I can lately. I've stopped worrying about me not being online at times when he is and feeling like I have let him down in some way by not being there. Or staying up too late chatting away when I should be in bed on time to avoid being late for work.
There's a lot of ifs and buts going on here. I've invested my heart again in the hope of finding someone who'll love me, who'll have what love I have to offer.
It is not the same kind of love I have for Clément, It's not the kind of love that swept me off my feet or the kind that had me worrying myself sick when I didn't hear from him for a day or so. The kind that consumed me. It's just different. It confuses me by being so different.

That is how Steve feels about me. Consumed by a love and a passion that makes me feel good but scares me as well. It draws me nearer to him and repels me as well.
He once said: I love you to the moon and back. And then asked how much do you love me?
The question took me by surprise, in fact it still does in some ways. I was a bit flippant when I said from here to your front door. An awful thing to say but I felt provoked.
I tried to explain to him how I wasn't interested in a pissing contest, which I'm not. For me the fact that I love him is the miracle, not because of how much love there is, but because there is love there once more. Some hope. Some love for another man. A good man, someone I look up to in many ways, can accept and respect in others and can live with what's left.

He said I love you far more than is good for me, far more than you love me. I told him I was still very much in love with Clément, just what it is that has gone. I told him I need time to get used to being in love again.
For now he can accept that, but I sometimes wonder if he understands just how much I still need what I have lost. There will come a time when I will have to decide what to do. Hang on to what I had or reach out and embrace what I can have.

Am I being dishonest by not loving him the same amount? Am I desperate in clinging on to someone who is no longer there? Is this some kind of defense mechanism to stop me from getting my heart ripped out again? Am I fooling myself?
Not the kind of questions I have answers to, I sometimes doubt I ever will.
In the meantime I will be excited and apprehensive.

 

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I think. I sent my reply to a rather confusing card and email.
Not an easy thing to do and I feel sad for having sent it but I guess in the end there is no ignoring the fact that Steve needs more from me than I feel I can give him.
Yes I love him but the argument we had two days ago has forced me to be totally honest about how I feel.
I have never argued with anyone I have loved like with him these past 6 months. It seems that everytime I open my mouth he gets hurt by what it is I have to say or feel.
I don't know what to think anymore. I guess in time that too shall pass. So here's a brief description of the argument we had. I won't go into any of the others, that time has passed, the issues resolved. I should have blogged about it at the time but didn't get round to it so never mind.

Of all the things you can argue about this one really confuses me. We were chatting away nicely having fun and were talking about how we were looking forward to being together and spending some time. Exchanging words of how we were looking forward to kissing, cuddling, holding hands, having sex, and he expressed the desire to drink my cum. And I said no.

I don't drink or share my cum like that and I don't have bareback sex. To me plainly and simply being sensible in taking safe sex measures. Not, I add, because I don't want to have bareback sex or want to taste his cum but I felt that on a first real date that was a definite no and in time yes we would, when we both felt the time was ripe and for me at least after I had been checked for std's. Not that I think I have any but better safe than sorry. I also know he has had unprotected sex in the past and while he does have regular check ups I still felt we needed to know for sure.
The other reason is, and I have been pondering this the past day(s) is that I believe I have every right to say no when it comes to a sexual act I'm not totally comfortable with. I have the right to say no and I used that right.
He signed of, angry and upset and his parting words were "Sorry to love you, goodnight"

I really hate it when he does that, it fucking drives me up the bleeding wall and he does it everytime I say something that is in disagreement with what he feels, thinks or wants. So much for the honesty he says he rates so highly. (I know cheap shot and he does deserve better). But he put me down in saying that.

Funnily enough I had a feeling we would have a disagreement over this but as I was supposed to go to him in 5 days I felt I needed to express my opinion about it now rather than then. Maybe I should have waited but I felt it would do more damage if I waited till it came to the actual drinking and then having to deny him the pleasure. I have mentioned it before but for some reason he has ignored my feelings on this.

 

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But where to begin? Half a year has passed already and while I started this months ago it has taken me some time to continue writing and editing.

Part I
Steve, let me start there as that's where I left off in my last entry. Well would you believe we had yet another argument. On x-mas eve or the day before that it memory serves me correctly. And of all the thing we could argue about it was about having unprotected sex.

He told me he wanted my cum and I said no. I don't do unprotected sex. I don't fuck without condoms and I don't share cum either. That pissed him off and as usual he did his little passive agressive act (sounds horrible of me to say that but weeks later I realised that is just what he did after an argument). I flipped my lid, totally, I just got so fucking mad at him, I just thought sod it, he can wait a few hours till I have cooled down and can give a more grown up reply. So when I felt better (late on boxing day) I sent an email explaining all my reasons why I don't do bareback, and why I use condoms, etc. and he gave me this utter shite about loving someone so much that of course you'd want to do all those things with each other. My jaw dropped a few inches.

Here's a grown man who knows all the risks involved, who's had unprotected sex in the months before we became involved, giving me this whole lecture on love and respect. He lost some of my respect to be honest and that did make me question my feelings. So I replied back telling him that if he loved me he would wait till we knew each other better and I explained my views in more detail.

His next reply infuriated me even further. He started using my arguments and views, telling me how dare I suggest having sex sans condoms and that all he was trying to say was that in time he felt I should consider it. What did he think I am? Stupid? I know I don't speak English on a daily basis anymore but give me a break, I understood perfectly what he was saying and can read (between) the lines, in fact I'd saved the conversation as I always do and in no way was that what he was talking about at the time. So I copied and pasted entire portions and sent them back to him foaming at them mouth. And he backed down.

How it happened I don't know but somehow we made up. I had lost some of the love, a lot of the respect and was a bit wiser for it. I felt tired and drained.

In fact I still do when I think of him.


Part II
So I went to Slough to meet him. I wish I could say that it went well and that we are happy together but it didn't and we're not. I don't know what happened really. We met at the airport and started chatting away in the car back to his house, I was still apprehensive though.
Our last emails and conversations were delicate as was to be expected and I know he was surprised I had decided to go through with my flight and my visit. So was I.

After we got there we sat down and I must say I was real disappointed in how he lived. I don't mind mess but the squalor was quite a shock. I'll be honest and admit it. Even knowing that he can't get around the way I can because of his disability and that he doesn't have a lot of energy or that much interest in doing it and knowing that his fierce sense of pride stops him from asking help didn't really prepare me for how the reality of it was.
Don't get me wrong I am no perfect housekeeper myself and I'll gladly step over any piles of whatever to get from one spot to the next but his house reminded me of the way my friend Susan used to live and to a degree still lives. I try heliping her out as much as I can but there's only so much I can do and since she moved it does look better now than in her old house. His was a lot worse.

So over the hour or so we spent chatting and exchanging gifts I settled down and enjoyed a cuppa tea and enjoyed his x-mas presents. I must say he got me some lovely things that I still wear and I think he liked what I'd bought for him. Mind you the Westlife cd was a bit too much. I have never played it and never will.


Part III
We ended up in his bedroom making out.
What was I thinking? What was he thinking? What were we thinking?
I will say I do think he has a great body. I loved his big belly and that did turn me on. And I have never seen a set of balls that big.

I have also never been in bed with such a bad kisser. I have never had sex with someone who doesn't know how to give a blow job. I have also never had sex with someone who is as unresponsive to (my?) touch as Steve. I have also never had sex with someone which such horiffic personal penis hygiene.

I am not saying I am great in bed, I'm not trying to be vindictive, and I certainly don't want to make it all sound like Steve is a bad person in any way. I am trying to give as honest an account of what happened and how it felt for me as I possibly can.

The next morning didn't make things better. I woke up to Steve pawing my tits trying to wake me. I hate it when someone does that, I can't help it. Maybe if the evening before had gone better I could have moved beyond it, but I just couldn't. All I could think of at the time was, why are doing this. I told him quite specifically that I hated being woken up like that, like I told him I hated it when someone touches my ears. I know strange maybe but for some reason when someone does that I get really upset, always have.

I fell back asleep soon after and when I next woke up Steve had made me lunch. We never discussed it and we never had sex again.

That evening we went out to dinner and after I went to be and he settled down to his normal routine of staying up real late till 4-5 in the morning watching his programmes on tv and the ones he had taped while we were out.

Part IV
We spent the next day inside most of the time and in the evening he took me out to London in his car. It was fun driving apst all the lit up sights, stopping here and there so I could take a pic. I even managed a few decent shots. After a few hours driving around in the cold with the windows down we made our way back to slough and went out to dinner at the Harvester. My treat to thank him for his hospitatlity.

After dinner, back home for some tea and tv and after a few hours I went to bed and fell asleep. Woke up in the middle of the night when Steve rushed past me on his way to the toilet. Seems the excitement, the nerves of meeting me and having me stay and the food had a bad affect on him. His IBS had acted up on him. Poor man. I felt so sad for him. I feel so guilty as well, but there wasn't much I could do except be as nice as I could be and try comfort him as much as possible and do some cleaning up as best as I could.

He stayed in the next few days, only went out to get some groceries at Tesco's and I spent my days wandering around Slough doing some sightseeing, visiting the malls and taking in the sights. Not that Slough has much on offer but I did love the Slough Museum which gives some info on what I have learned is the most boring city in Britain. I kinda liked it, so it's not as exciting as London, but it is the home of the original Mars bar! And it's very near to Windsor as well so I spent a day there while I left Steve to get better.

Windsor was wonderful I will say! I would have loved it if Steve could have come with me but he made it clear that would never happen long before I visited him and in a way I guess that sums it all up. I was looking for someone to be and do things with and he was set in his ways. I guess we both were. Despite the not so good sex and the personal hygiene issues (those could have been worked out) there was more difference between us than things in common. Losing respect for him and the arguments didn't help much either.

I sent him a postcard when I got home and we chatted a few times after that and then what should have been a bang just fizzled away. I was busy as soon as I came home with the project in Wuhan and some other work related issues, working long, irregular hours. I didn't hear much from him either although he did invite me to some chat sites but I just felt it was too much bother.
He had my email adresse and my nicks for yahoo and msn messengers and could have left me a message just as easily there.

In a way I guess that's what he meant by saying I love you more than you me. I could have stayed in contact but I felt drained and depressed long after we last spoke. If I'm guilty of anything it's neglect and I feel bad about that. I do not feel bad about not being in love with him anymore.
And I have asked myself quite a few times if picking that last argument like that was one he picked on purpose. Somehow I have the nagging feeling it was. And that it fits the idea that he has about always being the one that gets hurt. But I guess I'll never know and it's all water under the bridge.

 

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The previous two entries have been lying around the past months waiting for editing and posting. To be honest I intended to write something else and had forgotten about them but I felt they should be posted with the other random bits of my life just to complete the picture. My intention was to write about someone really special in my life who has come to mean so much to me over the past months and about my time in Wuhan. But that will have to wait till the next time I feel the need to confess.

 

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Haven't felt the need to update lately and that not only applies to my other blogs which I'll list in a while just in case somebody wanders in here and decides to give it a read.
Life has been good lately. I still have my emotional ups and downs like we all do but on the whole I am satisfied. I still miss Clément and my dad like mad as well but I keep feeling they are here with me, especially Clément. he comes with me whenever I hop on my bike or go for a walk, when I go places I would have loved to have shown him. In case you're wondering I have taken to going off on the weekends and exploring parts of the surrounding countryside. I take the camera with me and take pics along the way and share some when the mood hits me.
To me the cycling around is a journey of discovery, not in a big way like going to Canada last year or Wuhan China this year but in a smaller, more personal manner. To me they are journeys that explore where I live and the beauty of the here and the now. They uplift my spirits and they remind me time after time just how beautiful the world is.
How beautiful my world is.
How wonderful the world around me can be when I stop and look at it, when I take the time to see what it is trying to say.
It affects me so deeply at times I cry. Somehow this man made landscape of the Netherlands, so unlike the rugged, robust beauty of Ireland, has found it's way into my heart and now owns it...

 

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Off an on writing has given my life a sense of direction when I was most lost the past two years. Taking photo's has been another and an important one at that. When Clément brought a digital camera with him we went off and he'd take pics he could share with his family back home in Canada. Through him I found out I had a passion for taking photo's. On days I forget to bring my camera I feel naked. Usually those are days I see something I haven't seen before.

I have combined the two. My passion for writing and for taking pics and I've been uploading them into a collection of blogs, each dedicated to parts of my life.
Parts of my life I want to share with my friends and family and do. I'm not a frequent poster and sometimes it is weeks and months before I update. But there is something reassuring about having them and knowing they're there when I need them. Or when the mood compulses me to write and post pics again.

My only regret is that I wish I could take the photo's I can see with my eyes and write the perfect words to accompany them. Someday I hope to master both. Till then I'll just muddle along.

Here's where it all started I started this blog last year although it feels like it's been there longer. I haven't decided what to do with it yet. I might continue in another direction, it feels unfinished somehow. We'll see.

After a while my friend Susan complained that it took so long for the posts to download so I started another to continue where I had left off, which at the time was blogging the pics I had taken in Canada. Here's where it continued.

And then I started thinking about how I was blogging and felt the need for yet another blog where I could upload more of the pics I took in Canada. I still haven't finished it but you can find it here at Canada Continued.

And then I felt the need to not only share the beauty I had seen in Canada but also the beauty here at home in Arnhem so I began another blog: Gerard in Arnhem

Soon to be followed by yet another that contains the pics I took in Wuhan, China. Hopefully we'll be going back again next year and I can take more pics. Till then feast your eyes on: this.

And then I did it again. I added another blog to add to things to do. It's been a passion I have neglected since Clément passed on. My garden here at home, the two balconies I have have withered and died but my passion for gardening and gardens is still there. It's been relocated to where I work and through the many photo's of flowers and plants I have taken these past two years, loving every minute of it. So I have created what I now call my Gardens of Delight.

Please come visit, leave a comment if you're so inclined, but most of all enjoy it as much as I do.​

 

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Time flies, some of it has been fun, a large part of it less so. And in two days time on september 11 it will be two years since my boyfriend died.

Not an easy day to forget anyway considering the tragedy that struck the world 6 years ago. And I say the world and not just America because of the aftermath the bombing of the WTC in New York caused all over the world. And yes I am aware of the personal tragedies and loss this caused in America.

I suppose in some ways the similarities are there. My world ceased to be the same on that same date. My life hasn't been the same since. I haven't been the same. And yet at the same time the changes that came after it have enriched my life as well.
I am at times more distant to those I love and at the same time closer as well. My connection to friends and family is deeper because of my understanding of life and the strength I have found in them and myself.

I feel just as attached to Clément as I did two years ago and the love I feel for him is still there, just as strong now as it was then.

So here's to my baby. I know you are still with me and I still feel your presence from time to time in so many different ways. I will always love you.

 

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I have been feeling really positive all day, in fact since last week. Although I wasn't looking forward to september 11th I found a way for me to deal with it. In memory of Clément I am going away for the day. It will be him and me doing something I know he would have loved.
I want to go visit a castle. If he was alive today this would have been something he would have loved to do. When we were in Ireland 2 years ago we saw quite a few, in fact we spent a lot of time exploring almost every old ruin we came across.

His love for history was a big part of him. I still remember his joy in telling me he had helped his neice Laurie with her history homework when she was a child and how proud he was that she was becoming a history teacher and how he loved helping her with her essays and other assignments from Laval University. He was fascinated by the history of Europe and often surprised me by telling me which treaty was signed where and how that had affected Quebec. He passed his love of church buildings on to me. Neither of us believers but fascinated by the building man made to worship in.

So tomorrow I will be roaming around medieval times either at Castle Doorwerth, which is not far from Arnhem or at Muiderslot, near Amsterdam.

I told my friends and family my plans and all but one felt just as good about it as I did. My friend Susan. She rang me this evening. She didn't understand why I wasn't going to spend the day in bed tomorrow crying my eyes out, like she would have done.
I tried explaining to her that I still love him and miss him and that the time felt right for me to do something for us.

His not being there doesn't mean he can't be with me in spirit and enjoy it just as much as I will. Of course I'm sad but I do not want to spend the rest of my life celebrating (wrong word, I know) his death, I want to celebrate a life. His life. I am doing so by doing something he would have loved. To me this is showing that I still love him.

Spending a day in bed is a luxury I don't have or need. It is not the best way for me to deal with the loss. If I do I will end up closing myself off, building a wall around my heart and losing.
I feel in some ways I have moved on to another level. I am trying to acknowledge how profoundly his love changed my life by finding ways for him to still be part of my life, by sharing our love and passing it on.

I will take loads of pics tomorrow. Pics I can share on my blog. Pics I know his family in Quebec and Laurie in particular will enjoy seeing. Like them I show my respect and love by doing things he would enjoy, talking about him, remembering good times, a good life.

Walking along the streets to pick up my bike I had left at a friends earlier this evening, I felt overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by love. There and then, in that very moment I felt such love it's hard to describe. I smiled, I cried and started whistling.
Feel the love.

 

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I should be in bed now. I'm tired enough to fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow and I will, soon.
I will.

I have his picture before me and I've lit a candle and there is so much I wish I could say right now. To him.
I'm drinking a cola light, his drink. He drank litres of it every day, so I bought a bottle to drink in his memory.
I've lit a cigarette for him as well.

I know he was with me today and sent plenty of signs to make me aware of his presence.
I'm so glad he was there today.

The butterfly he sent, our little joke, made me laugh with delight. I know other men feel butterflies when
they're in love. We always sent them to each other with every message that was sent. Every time we saw a butterfly made us think of the other. Just a silly little love game we played to help us through the days we spent apart separated by an ocean. It helped. And it made me giggle with delight when I saw this dark beauty flutter before me as I set off on my bike today.

The grey herons standing in the field were the next sign he sent. I can still remember his excitement when he saw a big grey bird standing in the pool about 50 metres up the road. He'd never thought there would be birds that big in Europe. I guess it's like seeing a cow for the first time in a field if all you known are drawings you've seen in a child's book. He knew what herons were, they have them in Canada as well but they're smaller and for some reason called Green Herons. I suppose when I see my first live Green Heron I'll be just as excited.

The purple and blue flowers I saw growing in hedgerows and by the side of the road. I took the scenic route on the other side of the Rhine and cycled along the dikes by the river to the lock at Driel. To my surprise the big floodgates were down which means that the river IJssel and the river Waal will have higher water levels for a while. That's how it works I think but I'm not sure. From there I could seen my destination, castle Doorwerth on the other side of the Rhine so I took the ferry across.

I'm not going to describe the castle in full detail, I will post the pics in the "Just for fun post a non-porn pic" thread and blog the rest of the photo's I took. The castle is a gem and I enjoyed wandering around. I did take pics of some of the interior even though they have a no pictures policy, which I think is crap as they have no brochures yet. Another shame. I would have liked to send one in either English or French to his family back home in Canada.

In the castle in one of the hallways there was a moosehead hanging on the wall. he would have loved that. Another reminder of home. He talked about taking me camping in the forests of Quebec where we could see moose. And the other thing about the castle I know he would have delighted in is that it's haunted. I can just see him trying to pull a practical joke on me.

After coffee and a cola at the castle I continued my journey towards fields of corn. Another joke we shared. It's so funny when I went to Quebec to meet him for the first time we saw fields and fields and fields of corn. The monotony of those fields was the joke. Whenever we saw a cornfield here we'd say: Corn! The monotony of that little joke was the joke.

It's funny how I miss all the jokes we shared, I miss that so much. His ambition in life was to make people laugh, smile, giggle and make them happy in any way he could. And yet I'm sitting here typing outloud and smiling, happy even. This has been a good day. I know he enjoyed it as much as I have. That makes me happy.

In loving memory of my love, my partner, my soulmate, Clément Rhéaume.

 

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murder a sausage right now. For some reason I have been craving sausages and a good old fashioned fry up or Irish/English breakfast. I have nearly all the ingredients like eggs, beans, tomatoes and even some lovely bacon I brought over from my last visit to England but sadly, no sausages. Sometimes I miss being back home in Ireland and England.
Ah well. I will manage I guess.

 

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Lemon curd!

I have another craving for food at the moment and it's lemon curd. I haven't made it in a while and for some reason I can't wait to make the time to make a fresh batch of the most zingy, lemony curd I have ever tried.
The recipe is a Delia Smith classic that I have adjusted somewhat by adding more zest and a squeeze of lime. Somehow that makes the curd just that little bit more tart, the way I like it. With any luck I´ll remember to take some pics to post.

 

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...If you've ever downloaded any of my pics

I have been uploading lots of the pics I have taken the past year(s) into most of the threads I am subscribed to. Something I really enjoy. It started when I came across the Just for fun post a non porn pic thread.

I also get a kick out of using them to congratulate buddies and other people I have a soft spot for on reaching 1K/5K/10K/and more posts. That's my way of saying thank you for being such a great guy or gal. I like looking to see if I have a pic I think they might enjoy and am really chuffed when they appreciate it.

I really love getting comments and compliments on my pics. I love sharing my day, my life here. Taking photo's is my way of keeping a diary.

I'd like more feedback as well, I think that might help me become a better photographer but nobody has critiqued my pics so far (I'll assume for the moment that is a good thing).

I do however wonder who has been downloading them. I noticed a while back in the Miscellaneous > Attachments section of My Settings that I can manage the photo's I have uploaded over the years.
One of my more recent uploads "Indonesian Carving" has a total of 108 downloads, To Scrub - love buttons" has 130 downloads and "see through buttons" has amassed 326 downloads. (It seems me in my knickers is worth a lot of downloading - not that I am complaining).

Does downloading mean copying and saving to your computer? And if so, do you think it would be too much to ask if you could send me a comment or a pm telling me you've done so. I'd really like to know why you've been saving my pics. I'd also like to be acknowledged as the owner of the photo's in case you're reposting them elsewhere. Which in case you're wondering is not so much about permission to do so but me wanting some recognition for my work.

Thanks!

 

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Strange day Valentine's Day. I never really celebrated it till I had a man to love. Before that I thought of it as total commercial crap. He didn't believe in it any more than I did but together we celebrated and loved it. From afar, we weren't together then, but he made up for it when he came to live with me.

On my birthday Clément gave me a gift. He loved the nicer things in life (don't we all) and gave me a box with a beautiful silver lighter and said the words: You light up my life.

For some reason those words were on my mind today quite a lot. I missed having him with me on my walk through the Mariëndaal Estate, a stretch of countryside between Arnhem and Oosterbeek that is stunning. He would have loved it there. Soft rolling hills and tall trees line the fields of this hedgerow landscape. I've cycled past it quite a few times but never stopped off for a walk untill today.

As I was looking at the map I brought with me I came across a spot marked Christuskoepel (Christ Chapel) and knowing his love of churches and other religious sites (a love we -atheists- shared) I decided to walk up there.

Heavily fenced to guard from vandals, this little red brick chapel, erected in 1939 by the architect Kropholler, was a response to Queen Wilhelmina's speach on the moral decline of the time. She was talking about the persecution of the Jews in Germany and those that sympathised with the Nazi's. She was quite clear on how she felt about fascism and communism.

The outside has the inscription Sursum Corda - Lift up your hearts. Inside the chapel is a statue of Jezus surrounded by seven female figures symbolising the seven virtues. Hope, Faith, Love, Justice, Strength, Moderacy and Caution. On the floor are three grave stones that were put inside inside the chapel in 1967.

While I was taking pics from all angles as best as I could I saw two tea lights lying on the floor.

After I managed to draw them under the fencing I saw to my surprise there were still good. I just had to light them.

Using the stick I shoved them in as far as I could to protect the flame from the breeze. I feel love.

Sursum Corda Clément, you light up my life.

 

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I can't quite describe the sheer joy I feel everytime I see this. I cycle past it every time I take the longer way home. The grass looks greener, the purple is ablaze.

They add to each other, in a sense they are one. Clément's favourite colour was purple and mine is green. Something about that feels so right, I am smiling.

 

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Since Clément's death and the heartache of the past 4 years it seems there's still hope for me yet. I am in love again and am loved once more.

I suppose an introduction of sorts in called for here. Ian and the past week have been total bliss. For both of us. Intending to stay for 4 days very soon it became clear that four days wasn't enough for either of us so Ian stayed another 6 and once more I knew what happiness love is.

He feels the same about me. Especially now we are parted. Briefly I may add. In two days time he will be back home again.
Back home in my arms, with me, where he belongs and where I belong: in his arms. I can't wait!

He makes me smile, I feel sick and miserable when I'm not with him. I mean I really feel sick. I smile more, I cry, I laugh. All those wonderful feelings of being in love are there once more.

Not like I knew with Clément, but so similar, and yet somehow the past years have changed me and how I feel and react to being in love and loved. The love for Clément is still there and yet I experience feelings I never felt with him, a passion so fierce I just can't get enough. A love so overpowering at times I fear for the worst. Yet he takes my fears away and meets my passion with a fervour that matches mine. It consumes me when I'm with him, it scares me and is so addictive at the same time.

Am I burning the candle at both ends?
My instincts are telling me no and that I need to burn brighter, that I can burn brighter.

I can burn brighter.

 

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For both of us, tomorrow at 16.35 local time, Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam when I can finally throw myself into the arms of Ian and never ever again let go! I am not doing this anymore and neither is he.

I know 4 days apart is not a disaster of unimaginable scale but that's how I (we) have felt for the past days. Yesterday was the worst I just wanted to go home and cry and did.

Ian rang and sent text messages the whole evening and that did make me feel a lot better and I did the same. And finally today I got the message the post had arrived and his training materials had been sent back to him so he will be leaving Stansted London for sure at 14.10 hrs GMT for a half hour flight and will finally be coming home.

For those of you that read this, thanks for your support and kind words!

 

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I suppose now would be as good a time as any to say hello again. After a long spell of no internet, Ian got us signed up to BT for a broadband connection which has been sitting in a box for the past weeks as neither of us could figure out why we had no connection. It has been lying there doing sod all for the past weeks. Ian tried - bless him - to set up the connection when we got it but threw a tantrum when all we got was a no signal message. I do love him and the vehemence with which he hates computers is quite funny but I had to step in when he laptop nearly flew out the conservatory window. It was the socket we had plugged the hub into after all. We suspected as much but hadn't really done anything about it. Somehow time flies so fast here in the village. We love it here!

Anyway, problem now sorted, I am back online again. And hopefully will be visiting more often.

Take care,
Buttons

ps. Did I mention I am happy?

 

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So how did I end up here?

Ian's dad died at the beginning of January.
As an only child with a mother who relies on him we ended up going back and forth between Arnhem and Brentwood every other weekend. Rushing from work on Friday evening to catch an easyjet flight to London Stansted and back again every Sunday meant we felt rushed most of the week. To be honest we hardly ever unpacked but just changed some of the contents of our suitcase the eveinng before we left for England again. After three months that became a drag and left us feeling stressed.
So when we were offered jobs at Heathrow, we jumped at the chance to move to London to be nearer to Ian's mom. Relatively that is. On average it took us just as long to get across to the other side of London and out into the country as it did from Arnhem, Amsterdam and Stansted airport.
We moved into an amazing apartment in a part of London (Hanworth to be precise) close to the Hamptons and Hampton Court, Richmond and Kingston. Everything was brand spanking new and it was supposed to be the home we were dreaming of, but things have a way of turning out differently to any plans you have.

Ian hated the area and his mother was not much impressed when she came to visit before we took her on holiday with us to Cyprus, where we made time to reflect on our life.
We came to the realisation we had spent only four weekends at home in Hanworth (and one of those was when we moved away), spending most of our weekends and days off over here in Brentwood.
The job turned out to be more and more of a nightmare with Ian expected to do work he was not hired to do (he trains cabin crew and pilots), had no patience for, a run in with the training centre manager and a boss who did not pay us on time (in fact he still owes us). That should have been all the warning we needed but we gave him the benefit of the doubt after he came after us when we packed up and left one afternoon.
Away from it all we discussed how living near Heathrow and working there and rushing back and forth to B'wood was slowly driving us apart. The stress of having to deal with his mother frustrated me and was certainly not putting me in a better mood either. I will admit there have been times when I have wondered if I should not just call it all a day and move back to Holland.

In the end I stood by my choice to love, honour and make fun with him and we moved into a small cottage not far from Brentwood - but far enough so mum is not over here constantly. I have made my peace with her after some rather hurtfull remarks she has made by looking after her with Ian.

Mum btw is actually quite glam when she wants to be but can be a bit high maintenance. She has led a very traditional life and marriage with clearly defined roles regarding home and work and who did what. We made friends by my doing what I love doing - the garden: dad's garden. Weeks of weeding, replanting, feeding, pruning and a bit of digging has slowly restored the garden to some of it's former glory. She'll come sit outside while I do my bit and she'll chat about the old days and how things were then.

Although at first I did not relish the idea of leaving our glam apartment and moving into an incredibly dirty cottage (I spent a whole week cleaning it) I/we am/are happy and at home. The dirty cottage has become a lovely little home with a spiral staircase to the bedroom, a conservatory where my seeds and our tomatoes are growing contently and a garden we can do absolutely anything we like to (very nice landlord!) with a pond filled with waterlilies, a goldfish we have named Fred and a load of newts (who are all called Newton). The countryside around us is lovely, fields of golden corn and woods covered in a carpet of bluebells in Spring. The villagers say hello when they pass you on the street, even though we have not been introduced.

Life is sweet sometimes, innit!