<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774</id><updated>2011-04-22T04:12:34.838+01:00</updated><title type='text'>butterflyuk</title><subtitle type='html'>Mature but child at heart, female, UK. Good company but Very Busy. I am ambitious, pleasant, emotional,loyal and caring. I like to talk to and listen to friends. Not going to tell you my faults..find out for yourself !</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>324</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-4812432541582661386</id><published>2008-07-29T23:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T23:11:51.801+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hasn’t it been hot and sunny for a few days now?&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;It is great if you are not working. Sunday was the best day I spent in days but Monday was unbearably hot at work. It was lovely to come home and sit in the garden in the evening though. Today was nice.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Got problems at work. When I am stressed “Sickie” gets stressed without even knowing anything about it. On top of that we are being indirectly forced to transfer the G.P. We moved in a new home many months ago. It is only a couple of miles away so I kept the care and service same until now but because the bungalow is in a different council area consultants and hospitals need to change. Seeing a new Consultant made “Sickie” a little unsettled. I was dreading a backward step in his health but luckily good weather and comfortable surrounding has kept him upbeat.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I had bought and stored a swing/hammock in the garage for months. I love the contraption! &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It was making “Sickie” upset that he could not assemble it for me. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;On Sunday a friend and his wife came up and we put up the swing/hammock. “Sickie” was one happy man! We had lovely time with them in the garden all day. While doing the BBQ Mr. Sickie was sitting on his hammock giving instructions on how to do things. He can’t do anything himself but he will drive you made by telling you how to do things! It is great to have friends who offer understanding, help and support. Of course they get the same in return.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;M…..Thank you for the comments. I have not sent you a message but have tried to keep up. Wish things start to get better for you.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You are right in picking up an upward tone in me – for now anyway – so making the most of it. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Back here again if I don’t melt away in this heat!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-4812432541582661386?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/4812432541582661386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=4812432541582661386&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/4812432541582661386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/4812432541582661386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2008/07/summer.html' title='Summer'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-7695749566146034339</id><published>2008-07-19T20:29:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T21:03:35.668+01:00</updated><title type='text'>You say it best when you say nothing at all</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;because then I can read your mind and hear what I want to hear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Oh My God, It has been so long that I even forgot my log in name and password!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Many things have changed but then again many have stayed more or less the same. Am I the same person? No I don’t think I am. Then again may be I am….LOL…see, as ever stable and decisive??? Or not…..LOL &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Let’s think now. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Although the home has moved I still have the old place.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Although work has changed I still have the old business.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Although he has immensely improved I still care for my old “sickie”.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Although new people have come along I still have my old friends.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Although I never wrote a new diary I still have my old blog.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Although I lost my lovely doggie I still have my loving mum.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Although I never got what I wanted I still have what I had.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So…can I say things have changed? Or should I say things are the same?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Only thing different is that I am posing this. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What about you?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-7695749566146034339?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/7695749566146034339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=7695749566146034339&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/7695749566146034339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/7695749566146034339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2008/07/you-say-it-best-when-you-say-nothing-at.html' title='You say it best when you say nothing at all'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-2860493515297197882</id><published>2007-07-12T20:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-12T20:33:34.413+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Thunder Thighs</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;On trial: &lt;br/&gt;the thigh-slimming tights that bust your cellulite&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;They're the tights that promise to reduce the size of your thighs in five days. &lt;br/&gt;As the Mail revealed last week, Marks &amp; Spencer say wearing the £5 SPA Legcare Slimming tights for eight hours a day, for just five days, can make two out of three women's legs thinner. &lt;br/&gt;They contain marine algae extracts and plant extracts of Ginkgo Biloba, to help stimulate microcirculation, increase blood flow and aid detoxification, all of which helps slim the thigh. &lt;br/&gt;M&amp;amp;S claims each pair continues releasing the ingredients for up to ten separate wears.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/i&gt; &lt;br/&gt;Aren’t you surprised that I haven’t rushed off to M &amp; S and bought entire stock of SPA Legcare tights they own? No, I haven’t, despite being the top contender of Thunder Thighs competition. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;My parents lost their first child when she was only a few months old. I arrived soon after. They were so happy to end up with a “healthy” and alive daughter that they could only see only the perfection in their creation. Thus my thunder thighs went unnoticed.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When I went to school and college I was very obedient, sweet, active, studious, happy, humorous and popular. Thus my thunder thighs went unnoticed.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;My young man was so mad about me that he was blind to all my faults. Thus my thunder thighs went unnoticed.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Since no one else noticed them I pretended that they were not there. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Years later the rose coloured tinted glasses came off. Thunder thighs were noticeable. They were still there. My thunder thighs were sticking by me through thick and thin just like faithful friends! They just would not leave me no matter what I tried. Eventually I gave up trying to shake them off.&lt;br/&gt;Now why would I believe M &amp;amp; S can reduce them when other attempts were unsuccessful?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-2860493515297197882?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/2860493515297197882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=2860493515297197882&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/2860493515297197882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/2860493515297197882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/07/thunder-thighs.html' title='Thunder Thighs'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-7816383169156981341</id><published>2007-07-08T23:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-07-15T16:11:06.870+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The End</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The End&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;  Are these sharp shards of broken glass&lt;br/&gt;Or has my dream come to an end?&lt;br/&gt;Are these worn and beaten old tracks&lt;br/&gt;Or has my journey come to an end?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Are these knives buried in my back&lt;br/&gt;or has my blind trust come to an end?&lt;br/&gt;Are these chameleons in camouflage&lt;br/&gt;Or has my innocence come to an end?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; Are these books full of blank pages&lt;br/&gt;Or has my story come to an end?&lt;br/&gt;Are these aching dark shadows&lt;br/&gt;Or has my vision come to an end?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; Are these rivers swollen with tears&lt;br/&gt;Or has my smile come to an end?&lt;br/&gt;Are these strangers invading my life&lt;br/&gt;Or has my memory come to an end?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; Are these moments of truth emerging&lt;br/&gt;Or has my illusion come to an end?&lt;br/&gt;Are these signs of a new beginning&lt;br/&gt;Or has my love come to an end?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-7816383169156981341?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/7816383169156981341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=7816383169156981341&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/7816383169156981341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/7816383169156981341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/07/end.html' title='The End'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-2438959067261927127</id><published>2007-05-30T22:04:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-30T22:05:13.374+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to the Square one</title><content type='html'>What is it with some relationships that they just go round and round, get nowhere and end up in the same way? &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;You know that it is never going to change and you still keep falling in the same traps. You go through 1 to 10 and decide that it isn’t worth your efforts.  You have ended up where you are – no where. Then a little while later something starts again and you are at number 1 again. You put the past at the back of your mind and enjoy your step 2, 3, 4, 5 and so on but lo and behold you are there again – on the downward spiral.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Why do I let myself still be sad and upset? I just haven’t got the strength to end it and call it a day. Why though? There isn’t a lot to end really. What have I got? Not a lot really. Then why am I stuck and can’t let go? Why am clutching at straws? It is not desperation. Even if I have options, my heart is still drawn to 1 to 10 cycle. Why?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;There I thought 3 months self exile had cured me and bang! One word and we are back to the square one.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-2438959067261927127?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/2438959067261927127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=2438959067261927127&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/2438959067261927127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/2438959067261927127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/05/back-to-square-one.html' title='Back to the Square one'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-500180009475851147</id><published>2007-05-28T02:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T02:29:53.910+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Not a good day</title><content type='html'>In a way lot has happened in the last 3 months but I will catch up with that as I go along. In a way, though, nothing has changed! How can that be?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I thought I was going through a bad patch of depression.  Normally it is a day or two here or there but this time it continued for several weeks. Not that I have ever been diagnosed or have taken any medicine for it but I know myself that it is not how I should be feeling. All day I would be functioning normally but at the end of the day I felt as if I am completely empty. Nothing is there, nothing is real and nothing can change anything. Even if things could be changed I didn’t know to what.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;At times I don’t realised how strong I am. I seem to go through situations and bounce back – just like my old doggie. At times I have noticed that people I have relied on for being stronger have broken before me. Or is it a case that looking at things from outside keeps you to keep your control and offer advice and help but when it comes to your own self it is hard to handle?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Anyway I came to find out that my brother has been ill and been depressed for a few days. I am not surprised that he is ill with extra stress he has taken but it never occurred to me that he will be suffering from a depression. Almost everyone suffers from depression once in life for something or the other but he has always given the impression that he can cope with stress. The biggest stress is of course my mum and my sister-in-law. My brother is torn between both of them. If they don’t back off – especially his wife – they are going to be sorry. I am very worried about him.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I dragged Sickie to the pictures tonight to cheer ourselves up. As he is always cold he had the zip of his jacket right up to his neck. As we sat down he wanted to take the zip down but it got stuck. I tried but I couldn’t do it either. All the time during the film he kept messing around with his jacket and still not managed to undo it. I just couldn’t concentrate on the film.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;As we came out I noticed that the case of my mobile had disappeared.  I only bought it yesterday so I went back to check under the seats. It was dark and scary in the empty auditorium. Eventually I got the steward with a torch and we found the case. It wasn’t worth the effort as it seems to be torn anyway.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Not a good day.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-500180009475851147?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/500180009475851147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=500180009475851147&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/500180009475851147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/500180009475851147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/05/not-good-day.html' title='Not a good day'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-7191446597265382646</id><published>2007-04-19T23:56:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T00:41:55.745+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad News</title><content type='html'>Coming back with a bad news – not that I had gone anywhere! My mind, focus and energy have been a little slow lately. Perhaps I had one or two diversions to distract me from writing my thoughts. On the other hand blogging also felt like talking to myself. Why should I type on the keyboard when I am just talking to myself?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The bad news – a friend of 18 years was cremated today. She was found in bed by her son who lived with her. The son checked in the morning and saw her in bed. When he returned late afternoon she was still in the same position. What a way to find someone you love! Still it is good for the one who goes. That is a good way to go – without suffering and lingering. Although this friend had been ill for the last 8 years there was no immediate sign of deterioration. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;A while ago I mentioned this friend who was a fighter and would not give in to a brain tumour. Eight years ago she was given 6 months to live, paralysed neck down, but she stayed on another seven and a half years and walked and cared for herself. The irony was that when she managed to take a few steps, after 2 years of paralysis, her healthy husband died of a stroke overnight without any warnings or symptoms. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am sad that I lost a friend but I am more sad that the last few years I didn’t give her much of my time. I took on two businesses, changed my lifestyle, took on more challenges and generally kept too busy to reach out to someone who really would have appreciated my time. For my own guilty feeling I am glad that I phoned her only a couple of days earlier  to apologise that I  cancelled our last two meetings but we will meet up next Friday. That Friday came but she wasn't there. To my suggestion that she should come up to my place sometimes she asked when am I there - never - she laughed.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;This makes me think that everyone should do everything they want to, at the time they can because tomorrow it may not be possible. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-7191446597265382646?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/7191446597265382646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=7191446597265382646&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/7191446597265382646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/7191446597265382646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/04/bad-news.html' title='Bad News'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-3982527489675544398</id><published>2007-03-15T00:32:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-03-15T00:32:29.727Z</updated><title type='text'>Lurking</title><content type='html'>Just a quick visit to see if all is well with everyone. Once in a while I have checked up on you all. &lt;br/&gt;Thank you all for the birthday wishes - texts, phones, blog and emails. &lt;br/&gt; I haven't been keeping up with my blog but I haven't moved on either. Sooner or later I will start my rambling again. In the mean time when I am here it feels like I am visiting my second home. &lt;br/&gt;Keep well and see you soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-3982527489675544398?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/3982527489675544398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=3982527489675544398&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/3982527489675544398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/3982527489675544398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/03/lurking.html' title='Lurking'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-4150373514879748455</id><published>2007-02-22T01:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-22T01:29:30.524Z</updated><title type='text'>Yesterday is History  -22.02.2007</title><content type='html'>Yesterday is History,&lt;br/&gt;'Tis so far away&lt;br/&gt;Yesterday is Poetry&lt;br/&gt;'Tis Philosophy&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Yesterday is mystery&lt;br/&gt;Where it is Today&lt;br/&gt;While we shrewdly speculate&lt;br/&gt;Flutter both away &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;…….. Emily Dickinson&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;So today is the start of another year in my life. Was last year significant? I am sure it was – I am here, aren’t I? But without trying to recall I can’t even remember what happened in my life during last year. Time is passing by. Years are going fast. Is that a good sign or bad? Don’t they say that is the sign of getting old?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I think I have a lot to look forward to in the next year. Next week I will know the result of something I have taken part in. If I win there will be more time taken up from my life. Is this an escapist route that I am taking? If you stop long enough you might have a peek in your life and in your mind. Am I frightened to see what is there? Perhaps not entirely true. I think I need to have something more than just usual day to day life to keep me going. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Today I am not going to think “what if”, “how” and “whys” of my life. I am going to enjoy my birthday. I am going to be the centre of attention (oh it’s no different to any other day then!..lol) and have a good time. OK, it has started from the last week-end. I have something special every day of the week. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Here is to 22nd February 2007. Join me on my birthday for a celebration. x&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-4150373514879748455?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/4150373514879748455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=4150373514879748455&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/4150373514879748455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/4150373514879748455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/02/yesterday-is-history-22022007.html' title='Yesterday is History  -22.02.2007'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-6553164750594075899</id><published>2007-02-15T12:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-15T12:19:16.051Z</updated><title type='text'>Silence</title><content type='html'>Quote:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;If you do not understand my words,&lt;br/&gt;You will not understand my silence. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-6553164750594075899?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/6553164750594075899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=6553164750594075899&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/6553164750594075899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/6553164750594075899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/02/silence.html' title='Silence'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-8469756909782725793</id><published>2007-02-14T22:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-14T22:18:56.525Z</updated><title type='text'>Single's Day</title><content type='html'>Are you doing anything special for Valentine’s Day? It doesn’t have to be something too extravagant. Any small gesture to let your loved one know that it is their day doesn’t go amiss.  They are your priority tonight (except of course the dog, who wants to go out the minute you serve up your Valentine supper!).&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I agree that just like Christmas, Valentines Day is also too commercialised. People go overboard, perhaps at times showing off. I think some bosses may be peeved off by loss of work time if all the girls start getting flowers and heart shaped balloons at work! (In my case it is sour grapes now that I don’t get them in my slightly (only slightly) mature days,)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Then there are some who say they don’t believe in Valentine’s Day. Don’t you think it is just a cop out? Why shouldn't a day be a special day when you show your appreciation to your partner? We don't have many festivals like some other cultures do and having something special boosts the morals and the spirit. It is like any special occasion but better because there is social togetherness with other people doing the same thing. Festivals are something to look forward to and divert your attention away from day to day life. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Only problem to this is when you don’t have or don’t want someone special to share it with. When everyone else around you is doing couple things it is quite annoying when no provision is made for single people who want to celebrate too. Why don’t we have a Single’s Day as well?  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-8469756909782725793?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/8469756909782725793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=8469756909782725793&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/8469756909782725793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/8469756909782725793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/02/singles-day_14.html' title='Single&apos;s Day'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-117140939390726295</id><published>2007-02-13T23:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-13T23:29:54.103Z</updated><title type='text'>Happy Valentine's Day - 14.02.2007</title><content type='html'>"What is the difference between your love and my love?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love is a bird flying in the sky&lt;br /&gt;Your love is a bird singing in the cage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life in a Love&lt;br /&gt;Robert Browning &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Escape me?&lt;br /&gt;Never—&lt;br /&gt;Beloved!&lt;br /&gt;While I am I, and you are you,&lt;br /&gt;   So long as the world contains us both,&lt;br /&gt;   Me the loving and you the loth,&lt;br /&gt;While the one eludes, must the other pursue.&lt;br /&gt;My life is a fault at last, I fear:&lt;br /&gt;It seems too much like a fate, indeed!&lt;br /&gt;Though I do my best I shall scarce succeed.&lt;br /&gt;But what if I fail of my purpose here? &lt;br /&gt;It is but to keep the nerves at strain,&lt;br /&gt;To dry one's eyes and laugh at a fall,&lt;br /&gt;And baffled, get up to begin again,—&lt;br /&gt;So the chase takes up one's life, that's all.&lt;br /&gt;While, look but once from your farthest bound,&lt;br /&gt;At me so deep in the dust and dark,&lt;br /&gt;No sooner the old hope drops to ground&lt;br /&gt;Than a new one, straight to the selfsame mark,&lt;br /&gt;I shape me—&lt;br /&gt;Ever&lt;br /&gt;Removed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-117140939390726295?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/117140939390726295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=117140939390726295&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/117140939390726295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/117140939390726295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/02/happy-valentines-day-14022007.html' title='Happy Valentine&apos;s Day - 14.02.2007'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116992197689984063</id><published>2007-01-27T18:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-27T18:19:37.536Z</updated><title type='text'>The Last King of Scotland</title><content type='html'>Soon after I recovered from my chest infection I met up a friend I had not seen lately. It is always a dilemma about what to do if you are not too keen on a drink or a meal. Luckily it was the first day the film “The Last King of Scotland” was released so we went to see that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never been to Africa but Sickie often talks about it. I know quite a few people from Africa and I have heard many stories about Idi Amin so I knew I would like the film. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Amin came to power in a coup against Milton Obote people thought he was going to bring in the new age, peace and prosperity. Once Amin took control of Uganda he showed his true self as a dictator who would use horrific violence and intimidation to stay in power. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The film is based on a fictitious story but the incidents I have heard are not too far from the story. The last part of the film was nail biting and the violent scenes froze my blood. Of course there are more violent and chilling thrillers and horror films out there but this film made more impact on me knowing that it was all true and people I know have gone through the terror of escaping from Amin’s regime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forest Whitaker has given a brilliant performance as Amin. For a minute you forget that Whitaker is acting. You can feel Amin’s intensity, fury, hatred, humour and his charm and you can see his weak insecure mind one minute and a complete monstrous act the next. Other roles were just as good. I really enjoyed the film.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116992197689984063?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116992197689984063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116992197689984063&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116992197689984063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116992197689984063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/01/last-king-of-scotland.html' title='The Last King of Scotland'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116976911949339188</id><published>2007-01-25T23:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-27T17:39:32.240Z</updated><title type='text'>Is anyone there?</title><content type='html'>It has been a long time again, hasn’t it? Dark nights, cold weather, too much work and stress get together to bring on the apathy. When it all gets you down you think is there any point to this? Is there anyone out there who is bothered if you are here or not? Then slowly your mood picks up and you realise that you do this for yourself. It doesn’t matter if anyone else is there or not, you are here and that’s what counts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have had a tough month with the repair work when some idiot decided to pull off and take away the drain pipe from my front wall and another idiot decided to drive into the other end of my wall and then just drive off. Police are not interested as it must be reported within 24 hours. The fact that you were out of the country wasn’t relevant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On top of that I ended up with a very bad chest infection and felt so ill that I had to be off work. I am better now and in a way it was a good lesson to learn. Once in a while I get a shock like this to remind me to look after myself. If something were to happen to me then there would be a chaos around me. No one has a clue about anything in my business or the house. Sickie certainly will not be able to cope. I must put everything in order and organise things so it is easier if I wasn’t well. My dog was the biggest worry when I was ill. Since she has to go out almost every 3 hours it was hard to drag myself out of bed to go downstairs and out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been calmer and controlled for a long time since I pulled away from being emotional with “The most annoying person in the world”. Although It makes me wonder if I actually have got the control over myself like I thought I had. The most annoying person in the world has got it made. All the arguments used to be when it was pointed out that one person was always taking and not giving anything. Now that I don't expect things the life is straight forward. Although when the cap is on the other head there are many complaints.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Even though you know that someone is never going to change why can’t you give up on them? If someone is acting selfish and uncaring towards you then why should you always be there for them? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You communicate with someone almost every day and one day you tell them you are very ill. You don’t get in touch for more than a week. When you do the person gives a full list of how bad their week has been but never asks you how you are then don’t you think you have got a right to doubt their friendship?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116976911949339188?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116976911949339188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116976911949339188&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116976911949339188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116976911949339188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/01/is-anyone-there.html' title='Is anyone there?'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116787142897339794</id><published>2007-01-04T00:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-04T00:43:49.243Z</updated><title type='text'>Struggle</title><content type='html'>Let me start the New Year with the doggie talk. First thing in the morning on the 1st January 2007 I was prodded with a wet cold nose and a smelly lick on my face. It was the ruler of the house demanding to be attended to her needs. She hasn&amp;#8217;t been eating properly and is losing weight. Although she is supposed to be on special food because of her bad kidneys the vet says it is better she eats something or anything rather than totally rejecting the renal food so I surrendered readily to her choice of left over turkey. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was the usual contest. I shove down the medicine in her throat and she spits them out. After several attempts I won. Off we went for our walk at the back of the house. That little pond I mentioned long time ago where she used to have a special bread eating match with the ducks is being tidied up. Some of the re-generation money is being spent on the areas where the vandals have made their colonies, in the hope to deter them. There were slabs and concrete all over the place. They are building a nice path round the damn and some seats for the fishermen. The dog forgets that her legs do not keep with the rest of her body these days. I like her to have a bit of freedom so she was off the lead. Next thing I knew she was on her back in the little ditch between the slabs. She couldn&amp;#8217;t get up despite frantically waving her legs about. I kept calm, unlike my normal reaction, and that worked because she stopped struggling until I got her up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That gave me an insight to my short comings. Instead of frantically trying to get what I think I want, why don&amp;#8217;t I stop struggling? Note I said &amp;#8220;what I think I want&amp;#8221;. In the end it might not be what I wanted anyway. Once I convince myself I don&amp;#8217;t want whatever I was struggling for, it is easy to come out of it. But will that not be giving up? Will that not be crushing your real desires, wishes and hopes?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116787142897339794?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116787142897339794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116787142897339794&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116787142897339794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116787142897339794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2007/01/struggle.html' title='Struggle'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116758495651211351</id><published>2006-12-31T17:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-01T00:09:42.140Z</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY NEW YEAR - 2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;HAPPY NEW YEAR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope 2007 brings us, If not all, some of the things we want. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of all I wish health and happiness to all of my friends and family in the New Year. Hey I have forgotten myself! Go on - I will let you do that for me. X&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116758495651211351?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116758495651211351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116758495651211351&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116758495651211351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116758495651211351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/12/happy-new-year-2007.html' title='HAPPY NEW YEAR - 2007'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116758380999637886</id><published>2006-12-31T16:40:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-31T16:50:10.086Z</updated><title type='text'>New Year Eve - Last day of 2006</title><content type='html'>Buenos Dias.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, since we have been to Lanzarote we have been going a little Spanish! Not gone very far but at least it’s a laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This late morning I am still in my new pyjamas I was given as a Christmas present. Don't feel like having a shower or changing attire. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The effect of downing a bottle or two of something with a friend or two is now coming to surface.  It has turned all my movements in a slow motion effect. On the plus side my hearing capacity is turn up to full - drop of a pin sounds like a foot step of King Kong. Staying up till wee hours in the morning hasn’t really caused the problem. The problem is the old lady – Senora Doggie. She woke me up a couple of times in the early morning after I just had dropped off. Because of her age and illness all her habits and necessities are changing. Her moods are like that of a menopausal woman and she needs to use the loo several times a night! Not having a garden means I have to take her out of the front door. That means I have to be decent. Once she is out it not just the case of getting down to the chore we came out for. It is a performance of standing there looking around feeling the freshness of the weather to our skin for several minutes. Then it’s the inspection of the ground with full concentration. If she could sniff out treasures I would have been a millionaire(ss) by now. Boy she could sniff! Her nose is never above 1” of the ground. Any noise in the meantime will distract us from the procedure and the whole ritual has to be re-performed. Talking about her nose on the ground, I had to cut off the bunch of hair from the end of her tail because her back is now lowered down with arthritis, the tails would drag on the floor if it had a plait of long hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I was only writing to ask what you will be doing tonight.  If you are happy to have a mad party to let the new year in then I hope your party is madder than you imagine but if you are having a quiet evening at home then I wish you a peaceful time to enjoy the entry of the new year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I nearly forgot – Hasta manana!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116758380999637886?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116758380999637886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116758380999637886&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116758380999637886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116758380999637886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/12/new-year-eve-last-day-of-2006.html' title='New Year Eve - Last day of 2006'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116758067849941987</id><published>2006-12-31T15:52:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-31T15:57:59.276Z</updated><title type='text'>Lanzarote</title><content type='html'>Hola!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven&amp;#8217;t been able to write since my week off in Lanzarote. I did manage to have a good time and surprisingly Mr. Sickie didn&amp;#8217;t have any flip to make me panic either. There was a panic though when the news of bad weather in England and the news of cancelled flights came in. Luckily we made it back on time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is an island worth visiting if nothing else then just for its volcanic make up. It is quieter there and I managed to talk to one or two ex-part. living there to find out how they like it. The love the beauty and the peace. Having all white three story or lower buildings with green windows and doors you could appreciate the ocean from everywhere in the island. I liked that but for a small and quiet island there was a lot of graffiti. I found that strange. I have some lovely photos but I don't know how to download them on here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I didn&amp;#8217;t find strange on my return was to see my house vandalized. On the front whole of the drain pipe upto the first floor was missing and the side wall to the yard had been bumped into with a vehicle. Next door neighbour&amp;#8217;s car was stolen &amp;#8211; I wonder they used it to break down my wall. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No place like home. I agree there isn&amp;#8217;t!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adios!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116758067849941987?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116758067849941987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116758067849941987&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116758067849941987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116758067849941987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/12/lanzarote.html' title='Lanzarote'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116707625074251119</id><published>2006-12-25T19:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-25T19:50:51.186Z</updated><title type='text'>25.12.2006</title><content type='html'>MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thought of the day &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:1 Judge not, that ye be not judged. 7:2 For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.&lt;br /&gt;-- Matthew, 7:1-7:2.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116707625074251119?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116707625074251119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116707625074251119&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116707625074251119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116707625074251119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/12/25122006.html' title='25.12.2006'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116570674408888497</id><published>2006-12-09T22:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-10T01:05:27.006Z</updated><title type='text'>Train to Tornado</title><content type='html'>I was hoping to make my visit to London an all rounder one; social as well as business. I planned to set off on an earlier train so that I can get it all done on Thursday because Friday was an all day meeting. My plan was to get a bit of shopping in, spend a few hours with someone I have been promising to see for the last year and a half, get my short meeting over before catching a theatre show in the evening. Perfect itinerary I thought. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As things go, there was a chaos at work first thing in the morning so I had to stay and sort it out. I started later than I intended.  As the train left Manchester I thought my plan could still work. I got stuck into reading the papers for the meeting. About an hour later the train stopped. First no one knew why we stopped. As time went by there was an announcement that there were some problems ahead and we will be delayed. More time went by without any information. I had a text from my office that BBC news said there was a mini tornado and hale storms in London. I thought that fits in the jigsaw puzzle. Someone in the compartment downloaded the news on their mobile and confirmed. What was most frustrating was the lack of information on the train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Generally it irritates me when hundreds of meaningless mobile phone conversations are going on in the train but in this instance it was helpful to have a mobile. Nevertheless don't you agree life was peaceful a few years ago without all these mobile phones? (says the one who has a phone hanging on her neck 24/7).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Canteen on the train was virtually run out of everything with bored people eating and drinking to keep warm. Eventually we were told that some overhead cables have been damaged further on so we need to conserve electricity and the lights and heating was turned off. We sat there for three hours. No lights, no heating and no toilets. Someone managed to prize open the sliding door to one of the WC and there was a queue as long as the train to use it. Don't forget the flush wouldn't work without the electricity either! There were two later trains also stuck. There was no relying of information, no planning of any sort or any kind of organisation for the rescue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later we got told that they need to pull the last train back to Rugby, then the second train and then ours. Guess was that from Rugby they will put us on road coaches. Then the rumours came that from Rugby we will get a train to Northampton. From Northampton we will get coaches to Milton Keynes and from there a train to London. My worry was the next day. If the repairs were not expected to be completed then I would have come back home. I had to come back Friday night in any circumstances. There was no one who could answer any questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end I arrived in London at 9 pm.- some 11 hours after I started from home. I missed my social engagement, I missed my meeting and I missed my show. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I entered the hotel and heard a colleague say &amp;#8220;When I came out at Heathrow the news bill boards said Tornado hits London so I thought you must have arrived!&amp;#8221; &amp;#8220;How dare you compare me to a Tornado&amp;#8221; I said. "If I wasn't tired by travelling round the country I would thump you" I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily Friday meeting was not too bad. Many train services were still disrupted so most trains were full. When they announced Manchester train was on the platform there was a stampede. I joined everyone else in a game of running over other people's toes with the wheels of your suitcase and poking everyone with your brolly. Isn't it amazing how your goodwill and manners get thrown out when it comes to your survival? If you don't then you get left behind to suffer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116570674408888497?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116570674408888497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116570674408888497&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116570674408888497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116570674408888497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/12/train-to-tornado.html' title='Train to Tornado'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116544449384800421</id><published>2006-12-06T22:34:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-06T22:34:54.500Z</updated><title type='text'>Hibernation</title><content type='html'>In case you look me up and not find me here I thought I just let you know that I am going through that “I can’t be a.sed phase”. Too many hospital visits, although things are not that bad on the surface, too many vets visits, too much to do at home and too busy at work – something has to give and so my blog gets pushed aside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few things have happened. Several things I wanted to talk about. Some of my people are going through tough time and I feel for them. Some people have returned while some will be parting. In a way life keeps changing and us, our hopes, fears and requirements change with it. I want to talk about it when I can straighten my thoughts. Do you sometimes feel that you don’t have time to think? Just like house work the thoughts gets left behind and you just ignore them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am off to London for a couple of days for a meeting. Next week will be very busy at work. It is also my last week to sort out all my Christmas things- gifts and the cards because we go away to Lansarote the following week.  I booked this holiday on a whim. Busiest period of the year socially and business wise,  flying so soon after Sickie’s stroke  and leaving the dog while she is not 100% well - are the reasons make me doubt if I have made a right decision but I may as well take a chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I had better get my case packed for London. Till next time then……&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116544449384800421?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116544449384800421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116544449384800421&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116544449384800421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116544449384800421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/12/hibernation.html' title='Hibernation'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116362971429528688</id><published>2006-11-15T22:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-15T22:28:34.416Z</updated><title type='text'>Freeze Me</title><content type='html'>As soon as the temperature drops mere 1 degree butterflyuk household central heating programmer gets turned to maximum. Mr. Sickie suffers from poor, very poor blood circulation - number six on the list of "how to keep NHS busy". There are no layers of fat to keep him warm (unlike someone I see in the mirror regularly) so he is always cold. I suggested that he makes himself available for &lt;a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/health/healthmain.html?in_article_id=416211&amp;in_page_id=1774"&gt;Cryotherapy&lt;/a&gt; to cure his aches and pains but he refused saying he would rather have what little supply of blood he has flowing instead of freezing it. I on the other hand am very keen to try it out. After all it is said to reduce cellulite. Who will not endure torture if it offers even a slightest chance of curing the biggest enemy of womankind&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116362971429528688?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116362971429528688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116362971429528688&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116362971429528688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116362971429528688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/11/freeze-me.html' title='Freeze Me'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116285044370386269</id><published>2006-11-06T22:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-06T22:00:43.796Z</updated><title type='text'>Sat. Nav.</title><content type='html'>I have again left a long time to keep up with the blog. Since my last post we have had a few more visits to the hospital with the Sickie and to the Vets with the dog. Few more appointments are already in pipeline for both. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been trying to purchase a Tom Tom.  When we ventured to the maze of Sat. Nav.s I couldn’t make my mind up but Girlie friend 1 who originally was only accompanying me, ended up buying one. I flapped around for a day or two to GF 1’s utter disgust that I didn’t spend my money. Eventually I was persuaded to get a Garmin. Now we have a power struggle. Hers is a low spec Tom Tom. Mine is a higher spec Garmin. She proclaims that hers is the original Sat. Nav. Just to keep up with her I insist in calling mine a Gam Gam but she still is adamant that hers is a better one. Since it is a new toy it is being tested out at every opportunity. It is programmed to direct me to every single journey even if I have travelled that road four times a day for the last 15 years.  It is a mad house in my car if she is with me (of course she carries hers in the handbag). Two boring voices telling you where to go and when to turn while my car can travel that journey alone by itself if it was a horse. Generally my Gam Gam is a second quicker than her Tom Tom in giving instruction so all is well and good! How childish can you get?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have seen clocks change (I hate it. Why can’t they leave things alone?), Halloween come and gone and Bonfire night just ended. My poor old dog is so frightened that I was stuffing the cotton wool in her ears and tying a scarf on her head to drown the bangs. Nothing seems to work. Each year she is getting worse. I would have thought that being old she would lose her hearing but no she can hear the fire works 5 miles away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116285044370386269?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116285044370386269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116285044370386269&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116285044370386269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116285044370386269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/11/sat-nav.html' title='Sat. Nav.'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116284738068663067</id><published>2006-11-06T20:37:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-06T21:20:44.890Z</updated><title type='text'>Political Correctness</title><content type='html'>I am a little unsure of the laws on reproduction of articles and copy rights so as a typical wimp I won't put down here the "joke" I am talking about. It's a poem titled Illegal Immigrant which if you look at light heartedly then is quite funny. Although I can see that it could offend if you take it the way it is read.I have put a &lt;a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=414866&amp;in_page_id=1770"&gt;link &lt;/a&gt;to the news article about the "joke" in question gone out of hand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are people just too  touchy? It is a sad society if someone can't even make a joke about something. How can you prove that you were just have a healthy giggle and didn't intend to offend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When is a joke is a joke? How long can you be at the receiving end of a joke? I agree that majority of the times the examples show "political correctness gone mad" syndrome. We are just too cautious to say anything that may be represented as racist. Most of us try to convince that we have minority friends hence we cannot be racist. Most of the times people affected by the joke - may the subject be Irish, Jehovah witness, Indian, Pakistani, German, French, Obese people, bald people, short people or whatever - also laugh with us but there must be a limit when they don't find it funny. Perhaps we should imagine ourselves in the situation and think if we would like it happening to us. There must be some belief in the content of the joke for someone to think it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think jokes in small dozes are accepted and taken light heartedly but when it gets too much of a routine then it is not pleasurable especially if you are at the receiving end. What do you think? Am I being defensive?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116284738068663067?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=414866&amp;in_page_id=1770' title='Political Correctness'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116284738068663067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116284738068663067&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116284738068663067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116284738068663067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/11/political-correctness.html' title='Political Correctness'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116171662755828263</id><published>2006-10-24T20:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-24T21:15:41.180+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Women &amp; Age</title><content type='html'>I stumbled upon an article in the Daily Mail’s TV &amp; Showbiz section that had an unflattering photo of Kim Cattrall – Samantha Jones in Sex and The City. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The article goes on to say “&lt;em&gt;As steamy Samantha Jones in Sex And The City, she could have any man she wanted - whatever their age. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;em&gt;But now age appears to have caught up with Kim Cattrall, 50, seen here with wrinkled skin and thinning lips. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;em&gt;Photographed at the World Premiere of Director John Boorman's "The Tiger's Tail" in Dublin, it appears her days as sex-kitten Samantha Jones are long gone.” &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I normally don’t bother reading gossips about showbiz stars but I am glad I saw this one just to remind myself how shallow and fickle some people are. Why are women subjected to looks and the body shape stereotype? No wonder the eating disorders manifest more in the Western world than other part of the world where the media promotes only the women of certain mould to be beautiful. &lt;br/&gt;Why can’t we accept that women also get older and just like men? Why can’t we see beauty in aging – albeit a different beauty than youth? &lt;br/&gt;I am not the one to age gracefully but I am also not the one to believe that external beauty is be all and end all. When I need it and if it was possible I will have minor treatments that make my aging slow down but I will not be obsessed with the desire to look young. &lt;br/&gt;After saying all that I don’t think my mind sees me as I look now. It still sees me as I was ten years ago. Hypocrite or what?.........LOL&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116171662755828263?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116171662755828263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116171662755828263&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116171662755828263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116171662755828263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/10/women-age.html' title='Women &amp; Age'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116164358337503116</id><published>2006-10-23T23:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T23:49:11.410+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Missed Opportunities</title><content type='html'>If my blog was a person I would probably be saying sorry to it for neglecting it. I had a very busy week both at work and at home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor Sickie has gone through a lot for the last month or so and on top of all that he has suffered a mini stroke -his second one in three years. He is taking it well but I feel so sorry for him. I haven’t mentioned mum and the dog for a bit but their problems are more to do with the age – both lovely old ladies I love most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been pretty angry on a work situation where I have been trying to motivate 100 or so people to do things to help themselves but only 8 manage to stir themselves up into action. Most of the people are very keen on blaming others and finding faults of the people above them but when it comes to do something they crawl back in their holes. These people are so apathetic. They want everything handed to them on a plate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was also very disappointing that I was no where in the media despite giving several TV interviews and paper write ups. Could I put it down to luck? Or perhaps someone else was better! Still I know that I have done more than I was expected to do. Sometimes working in the background spoils your chances to be in the limelight but if no one did it then the whole thing will just collapse, won’t it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116164358337503116?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116164358337503116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116164358337503116&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116164358337503116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116164358337503116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/10/missed-opportunities.html' title='Missed Opportunities'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116164155352876729</id><published>2006-10-23T23:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T23:12:34.253+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year 2063 = 2006</title><content type='html'>Happy Diwali and a Happy New Year to all Hindu people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wonder whether Girlie Friend No. 1 says things to wind me up or she actually believes some narrow minded, misguided conception that she utters. Today Hindu calendar turns a new year 2063. Girlie Friend No. 1 just cannot accept that the Hindu calendar is in front of the English one. To her either they have cheated and jumped the numbers or some how they are wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What annoys me though is that most British calendars and diaries show Eid and Ramadan (Muslim festivals) but not Diwali which is a Hindu festival. It is same in the media. Is it the fact that the one who shouts the loudest gets heard?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back I noticed that this is my 3rd Diwali posting on this blog so I won’t tell you any more stories like before. Perhaps next year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116164155352876729?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116164155352876729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116164155352876729&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116164155352876729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116164155352876729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/10/happy-new-year-2063-2006.html' title='Happy New Year 2063 = 2006'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116103935704236860</id><published>2006-10-16T23:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T23:55:57.343+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Raffle</title><content type='html'>Too many things going on at the moment to find time and energy for writing a blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't blog regularly then do you feel as if you have forgotten to do something and just can't figure out what it was? Or do you take blogging as something you do but if you don't it make no difference? Do you write so that you can read it as a record of what you were doing at that time in life or do you write to air your thoughts? Do you write because you want to open your heart and mind to someone who will not judge you and if they do they can not come to haunt you in future? Does writing your journal help you in some way? Which way?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I spent the week end at an exhibition. While wrapping up the even everyone was trying get rid of the stuff they had on display so the last hour or so was just give away hour. Someone told me that the charity stall at the end was doing a raffle and giving away teddy bears so I should also go. I saw that there were loads of prizes still left including a number of teddy bears. I bought £5 worth of tickets. Instead of 2 for £1 they were giving 4 tickets now.  I opened them all and won none of the raffles. He gave me a handful of tickets saying try these; there must be a winner in them. None! He must have felt sorry for me because he called his assistant and three of us dipped in the big bin full of folded tickets and started opening them. Did I get a number? NO sir. Eventually he gave up and said "never mind, at least we had a good go." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you believe my luck?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116103935704236860?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116103935704236860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116103935704236860&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116103935704236860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116103935704236860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/10/raffle.html' title='Raffle'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116026740218361261</id><published>2006-10-08T01:29:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T01:30:02.406+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Unveiling Jack</title><content type='html'>Everyone – regardless of religion, politics, social understanding or cultural knowledge are debating the hot topic of Muslim women covering their faces with a veil. I have lived in the places where Muslim women not only cover their faces but cover their whole body with a garment called Burka. There is a little mesh curtain on the face which can be lifted when necessary, generally in the company of other women. The veil is kept close outdoors and when men are around with the exception of the nearest blood relation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are surrounded by a society doing a particular thing then it becomes a norm and you don’t take any notice of it. The other side of this would be the tribes in Africa where both men are women are topless. It won’t be acceptable in the normal day to day life down here would it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had someone telling me that asking to take a veil off is like asking some one to take their item of clothing off. Would you like if someone told you what to wear she asked. She said would Jack Straw like to ask all the other women to stop wearing low cut tops or revealing cloths? Isn’t modesty better than temptation I was asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a middle ground person. I can see both sides of the arguments in most things. I personally would not follow either of those examples, veils or topless….LOL….but I say everyone to their own.  I am an emotional and tactile person so I like to see the faces of people I am communicating with. I would not like anyone coming in my office with their face covered. It could become a security issue. I would not like to be served in a shop, helped on a reception desk or treated in a hospital by someone whom I cannot see. In the days and in the countries where the practice of veil started women stayed indoors and didn’t take any part in the outside world. It is not so now. If you want to be treated like everyone else then you have to act like everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is where the problem lies. Even after acting like everyone else people with different colour sometimes are not accepted like everyone else. These women are not only the first generation elderly women who are too rigid to change. These are British born intelligent women who have taken a conscious decision to wear a veil. Is it just a religious reason? I think not. These are the reasons we need to understand and tackle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not wish to write about veil or no veil because this argument is not going to end easily. What I am not sure is why Jack Straw has brought it about at this point in time? Jack Straw has his Blackburn constituents to thank for his presence in politics. He has been so close to the Muslim community for many years it is surprising that he will engage in such a controversial topic without thinking of his popularity. What is going on Jack? There has to be more than an act of voicing an opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(These are my views and opinions and are not officially researched. Please tell me if you know different.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116026740218361261?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116026740218361261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116026740218361261&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116026740218361261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116026740218361261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/10/unveiling-jack.html' title='Unveiling Jack'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-116000158808914586</id><published>2006-10-04T23:39:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T23:39:48.286+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Flu Jab</title><content type='html'>It is just outrageous that people who need to and want to be vaccinated against the flu virus cannot be immunised as per their wish. The surgeries either have a very limited supply or have not received the supply yet. Our Surgery is sending out specific invitations to the groups of people they believe are in the vulnerable category like the people over 65, asthma sufferers and the people with heart conditions.  It sounds sensible but there are many other patients who don’t fall into these but nevertheless really needs the vaccine. It would have been better to pick the patients from their past records and risk factor rather than generalising with just the age and specific illnesses.  Then again why create more work when you are seen to be doing something without putting too much effort in it? So are we prepared for the forthcoming suffering in not too distant future because we are bound to catch something or the other as soon as it gets colder and darker?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-116000158808914586?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/116000158808914586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=116000158808914586&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116000158808914586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/116000158808914586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/10/flu-jab.html' title='Flu Jab'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115973082190587619</id><published>2006-10-01T20:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T21:17:57.180+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Film - The Queen</title><content type='html'>For the last three weeks I haven’t seen the outside world, well at least the social one. Sure I have been going to work and so on but all the other time I have been in the house keeping the sick bay running smoothly.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I felt it was fair for me to get out for a couple of hours even though the NHS’s biggest shareholder is still not able to open one eye. The swelling of the face and the other eye has gone down and he sleeps all the time so I went off to the cinema to see The Queen.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;All the other casts are excellent except that of Prince Charles. I don’t think they have done justice to his role at all. Helen Mirren as The Queen is brilliant. It was an interesting hour and a half and a very good work of the director Stephen Frears. Screenwriter Peter Morgan had a tough task to make the film factually correct and he seems to have done it beautifully. I enjoyed the film although at the end it feels that there should be more to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115973082190587619?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115973082190587619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115973082190587619&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115973082190587619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115973082190587619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/10/film-queen.html' title='Film - The Queen'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115955591606665385</id><published>2006-09-29T19:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-29T19:51:56.946+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Wanted - A Travel Companion</title><content type='html'>The first woman space tourist has said to have paid $20 million for a trip on the Russian rocket. Her ten day adventure is going to be a very interesting reading. She is reported to have said that the smell in the space is similar to a burned almond cookie. That suits me fine. I love the smell of baked bread, cake and cookies and I’ll save on the price of air fresheners and potpourris.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now The Virgin Group said they can bring the price down to £200, 0000 per ticket. It will be a two and half hour flight. Can someone find me a calculator please so I can find out how long it will take for me to pay off the loan for this trip? It seems that 200 people are already booked for the flight and 65,000 odd have registered their interest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say that I would love to have a go at this but if it was really possible would I?  If it was affordable (which of course it isn’t going to be) would I do it? For myself, yes I would but there are other factors to worry about. What if something went wrong and my dependants are left without me? Would anyone give me travel insurance in case I lose my luggage?....LOL…Ok I am being a bit silly but if you had a choice would you like to travel to the space?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115955591606665385?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115955591606665385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115955591606665385&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115955591606665385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115955591606665385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/09/wanted-travel-companion_29.html' title='Wanted - A Travel Companion'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115939080970840561</id><published>2006-09-27T22:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-27T22:00:10.163+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Heals</title><content type='html'>Yesterday from the time I got up I felt miserable. The day didn't go well at all with several arguments for no valid point. I know you cannot please public and the customer is always right (even when they are wrong) but I just cannot let go unsubstantiated blame. I get very upset when I think I am being blamed for something that wasn't my fault. If I had unknowingly or in error done something wrong then I feel very bad and very guilty. I see both of these as my weakness but I haven't learnt to control them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a very busy day as well and I had no time to think about anything else. Straight after work, sorting the dog walk and our evening meal out, I went with girlie friend 1 to the 2nd Yoga class of this term. The class went well and got me calmed down but later in the evening I couldn't stop myself getting tearful. I was trying to think why I was down and depressed. Then I remembered. It was the 3rd anniversary of my friend's death. I was ashamed that I forgot but did I? I think my subconscious didn't forget and that is why I was sad all day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a time when the thought of not having my friend seemed absurd but when people are taken away from us we get used to living without them, don't we? Of course we don't forget them but the memories do fade with passing of time. Should we feel ashamed or guilty for letting the memory fade?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115939080970840561?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115939080970840561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115939080970840561&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115939080970840561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115939080970840561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/09/time-heals.html' title='Time Heals'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115922295962332657</id><published>2006-09-25T23:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T23:22:40.103+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Non-political Rant</title><content type='html'>Manchester is crawling with political people. Hazel Blears grinning like a Cheshire cat and running around like one too. Well someone has to keep everybody in check! No doubt she will be featured again in the local free newspaper just like every other week. I like to ask her who is paying for the free booze and the food on offer in the evening but I doubt our path will ever cross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you heard Gordon’s speech? Are you convinced he has got what it takes to be a new PM?  Can he take on David Cameron like he says? Do you care? I don’t. Nothing is going to change one way or the other, is it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115922295962332657?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115922295962332657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115922295962332657&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115922295962332657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115922295962332657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/09/non-political-rant.html' title='Non-political Rant'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115852909344020620</id><published>2006-09-17T22:37:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-17T22:38:14.180+01:00</updated><title type='text'>School Runs</title><content type='html'>As I have been attending to the patient I did not get any rest in the evenings or much sleep at nights. As a result I overslept on Saturday morning. I dreaded it to happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sleeping on the bottom of the bunk bed to keep as far away from the germs as possible. There is no alarm or a clock in that room. Normally I wake up early anyway or at least the dog gets me up in time. On Saturday even the dog was sleeping until the phone went. I sprang up from the bed and bumped my head on the bunk. The panic of getting to work in 15 minutes was greater than the pain from the bump on my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think Mr.Bean would have been impressed with speed I got ready for work. Luckily the roads were just empty and I sailed through. That reminds me of the dreadful traffic I will face Monday morning. The same journey takes three times longer. Main reason of the traffic is people doing the school runs. If a different mode of transport was available to take children to school then the roads will be much less manic. I can understand working parents using the car to drop the kids off but some of the others are just lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whilst in Scotland I got on a bus that runs round the Isle of Arran. It was the time when schools were finishing for the day. I saw small children waiting at the bus stops with either the teachers or the classroom aids. The adults stayed till the children boarded the bus. On the other end at various stops one by one all children got off to be greeted by the parents waiting for them at the bus stops. It was all so very cute. I realise that Arran is a small, quiet and peaceful place and people are trustworthy. It will not work in the middle of a big city where not only the cars are stolen but also the pets and the children but I just wish they stayed in till I get to work!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115852909344020620?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115852909344020620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115852909344020620&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115852909344020620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115852909344020620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/09/school-runs.html' title='School Runs'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115835813544844145</id><published>2006-09-15T23:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T23:11:14.283+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Infection/Allergy/Reaction</title><content type='html'>To continue with the theme of NHS usage I spent almost 50% of my time in the medical atmosphere this week. My Sickie decided that I was getting too comfortable with him being well for a while now and I needed reminding! I think he wants to prove my superstition that whenever I praise something, it goes bad.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He wasn’t happy just spending the customary waiting time and consultation time in the doctor’s surgery over a number of days. He had gone full blown “I’ll teach you a lesson” ill. His eye was like a lemon and half side of the face swollen and erupted.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had the pleasure of sitting in the A &amp; E for four and a half hours after work last night. None of the coffee machines were working. I dare not move in case they call us while I was chasing a coffee machine. I myself felt ill with the crowd, the noise and the wait without an update or even a hint of how long we were expected to sit there. Being a good NHS user I hate to make fuss and take up the staff’s time by asking questions like “how long” or “when” or “have you forgotten us”?- That is what had actually happened. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When I asked, it was “we are very busy”, “we are dealing with emergency”, “and you will be seen as soon as possible”and lastly“we have a three hour wait”. When I said yes but we have been here for 4.5 hours they asked the name and realised that they can’t find his card. Of course he was seen straight away after that. Only problem was that in this oversized hospital they didn’t have the equipment or the expertise to check his eye. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;In the dark of the night I drove him to the Eye Hospital. It was like a murder mystery tour event. We were let in by a remote switch after I buzzed the main door. Long lonely winding corridors ended into a deserted Reception area. There was not a soul about in the place. An old lift with a concertina door wasn’t working. There was no other choice. If he wanted to be seen he had to go up two flights of stairs to the first floor. He managed to stagger upstairs without having a heart attack on his painful problem legs was the evidence that the threat of losing the eye sight was more frightening. I wonder how a totally wheel chair bound person would go about.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Luckily there was the most cheerful and helpful crew of three upstairs. We waited there for another hour and a half being watched by the “eyes” in the white boxes marked “Human Tissues – for transplant”.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The consultant said that his vision appears to be undamaged. We got home in the early morning with more medicine and appointments. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Unfortunately his other eye is also affected now and the face is like a second rated boxer who has lost the fight. One minute he is coherent and makes sense and the next minute he is deluded and fidgeting. I am worried that his progress over the last few months will be lost by this but tomorrow is another day……and another battle…..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115835813544844145?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115835813544844145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115835813544844145&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115835813544844145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115835813544844145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/09/infectionallergyreaction.html' title='Infection/Allergy/Reaction'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115800206645052270</id><published>2006-09-11T20:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T20:14:27.576+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dentists</title><content type='html'>Do the dentists think they are Gods? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very happy with my dentist even though I have to take out a small mortgage when I see him because I think his work is good. The routine appointments are never made in the same quarter of the year you phone because his diary is always full.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I was stuck in the traffic so I phoned to say I would be late getting there and I was told that the appointment had to be cancelled, they can’t fit me in if I am late. On the other hand, never ever in my life I was seen on the time of my appointment when I was on or before time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time I had a work appointment straight after the dentist so I phoned to ask if I could be seen on time please. They said no. They said it is not possible because there could be an emergency. If that is the case then fine. I can accept that but every time when I was made to wait was there an emergency? They said oh the dentist runs behind most of the time. Aha…in other words more patients are taken up than it is possible to attend to them. What does it matter…the mortals have nothing worthwhile to do so they can sit around in the waiting room until the Gods can spare some time for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got so frustrated that I would grit my teeth in anger but I had better not. If they wear out I will be sitting in the surgery once more!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115800206645052270?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115800206645052270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115800206645052270&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115800206645052270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115800206645052270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/09/dentists.html' title='Dentists'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115792777256363158</id><published>2006-09-10T23:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-09-10T23:36:12.843+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Holiday incident</title><content type='html'>I often think about writing my blog but with one thing and the other it just doesn&amp;#8217;t happen. It seems that the need for moaning and whinging in a blog is not on the top of the list for the time being. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The holiday was good. After a first couple of days I managed to wind down and relax. Not having to set the alarms or watch the clock felt very odd. My mobile wasn&amp;#8217;t picking up good signals so that distraction was also out of the way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the first day after unpacking I went round the complex to see where everything was and if it was possible to encourage the Sickie to go out. I tied the dog outside the building on the railing to the steps and I went in. She is used to waiting outside the shops for me so there was nothing usual. Although I am a little more careful now that she is older and less confident. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I came out of the place after a few minutes I saw a crowd gathered around the dog. My heart just sank for a few seconds thinking she was ill or dead. I managed to push people aside and I saw her. She was drenched with some liquid, covered in pieces of glass and trembling terribly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People there said they were not very close so didn&amp;#8217;t see exactly but think that some teenagers were messing around and dropped a glass full of soft drink on her from the top of the steps. The dog got splashed with the fizzy drinks all over her face and the back and the noise of breaking the glass startled her. Of course the kids ran away. It could have been an accident but the way the liquid was all on the dog&amp;#8217;s face makes me doubt that. I took her back and washed her. Her eyes were watering for the rest of the day. The drink must have got in her eyes as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was not happy at all to go on that side of the area after that. There was no point in upsetting her so I avoided that and took her for long walks on the beach on the opposite side of the place. We must have walked miles in the sand every day. It was a job in itself trying to shake the sand out of the dog&amp;#8217;s paws and the coat every time we came back. The weather was hot and sunny all week. Although Sickie didn&amp;#8217;t get out more than once he enjoyed the change of place too so I think the holiday was a success.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drive back on the coastal route was amazing too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115792777256363158?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115792777256363158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115792777256363158&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115792777256363158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115792777256363158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/09/holiday-incident.html' title='Holiday incident'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115654452788879724</id><published>2006-08-25T23:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-25T23:22:08.050+01:00</updated><title type='text'>My Family Holiday</title><content type='html'>Work tomorrow morning and going away straight after lunch time. Nothing packed yet. As usual I am trying to clear and clean every thing before tomorrow. That is just plain stupid isn’t it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I booked this week off for certain reasons and now those reasons are not there so I could do without going but people say that I need to take time away from work. I have never had a day off not doing any work for a very long time. Going to see mum and taking weeks off doesn’t really count because it is strictly not a holiday and I am not doing nothing or my own thing. I did have some time in Dubai on the way back but that was part of the same package – kind of different location to the same package. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a traditional holiday. A time taken off for no special reason.  Instead of anticipation, the thought of 7 days without work panics me. Just imagine how much I could cover and get up to date if I take a week off to catch up on work!  Only positive thing for this week is that I will be giving Sickie and the doggie my full attention. In Sickie’s case it may not be a positive thing. He will soon get fed up of me.LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times I feel that people I care for shouldn’t ask for difficult things from me, especially when they know it is difficult for me. I hate to refuse a favour but there are some things that are just not done. Girlie friend no. 2 is asking for a favour but I don’t feel I could help out without making myself unhappy. There is no real need for that favour. If a friend is in trouble then I would do anything to help out. In this case it is just greed or indulgence and I don’t want to be a party to it. She is not the one to take no for an answer. Although I am easily manipulated at times I think once I reach my limit I could be very strong. I am proud of myself that I have not budged. She has just left the last text calling me a witch but who cares? Well I do but I am not giving in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel a little depressed. I think when you are so tired and so empty because the world has taken it all out of you during the day and when you start thinking about how you couldn't do fair things to everyone you ideally want to do because it is not in your hands at times - that is when you feel down - at night when no one knows and you can hear all your thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you hear them too?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115654452788879724?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115654452788879724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115654452788879724&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115654452788879724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115654452788879724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/08/my-family-holiday_25.html' title='My Family Holiday'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115654137279519920</id><published>2006-08-25T22:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-25T22:29:33.133+01:00</updated><title type='text'>DVT</title><content type='html'>All this time it was the overweight people who are targeted to be prone to DVT on their air travels. Now the research says that short people are also more prone to the condition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People shorter than 5 ft 3 in are five times more likely to develop DVT after flying. Obese people are ten times as likely to suffer. Well, it seems that I am doomed on duel account! The problem shorties have is that their legs don’t reach the floor, the research says. Mind you tall people 6ft 3in or above also suffer DVT four times more than normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if this is established then why more is not being done to counter-act it? I must say that good airlines have improved slightly but it is still not enough. Sitting for long periods was the main cause for DVT the report says. I believe that not just sitting but the cramped sitting does it. If the airlines are to cut down on alcohol and excess offerings of food – especially available on the long flights the money could be spent on improving the seating without increasing the fares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the mean time I am off to a week in the North West………yes more North and more West than Manchester. I hope it doesn’t rain in Scotland.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115654137279519920?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115654137279519920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115654137279519920&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115654137279519920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115654137279519920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/08/dvt_115654137279519920.html' title='DVT'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115611220640762713</id><published>2006-08-20T23:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-20T23:16:46.623+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop or Don't Stop</title><content type='html'>What a busy week I have had! I have been out socialising almost every evening and it is showing on my face today. The bags under the eyes are competing with those carried by the shoppers coming out of Laura Ashley linen department. I dare to think how loud my scales will scream when I try to weigh myself after eating out every night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I was driving back from an evening out. My hearing was 85% damaged by the noise made by the group of 25 women talking while enjoying their drink and food. The Italian restaurant had a pre warning so they sat us down in the basement room instead of upstairs public sitting area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was nearer to the known area just after midnight I saw a group of young people outside a pub. On the road there was what seemed like a black coat or a jacket. I had my eyes on it while a couple of girls that looked in their late teens come in the middle of the road with a stop or slow down sign. One then picked up the coat like object which I notice was actually a little black dog. The lads in the group were shouting something. I was just about to stop when I saw a car parked haphazardly a little further and two dark men coming out towards to girls. Something didn&amp;#8217;t seem right and I got a bit scared for some reason and carried on driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After coming home I felt very sad and guilty for not stopping to take the dog to the vets. I felt angry on the people and on the society that make me feel afraid to stop to help. Sometimes you could be too helpful for your own good. I recalled a couple of years ago when a boy was lying on the road and another one standing over him kind of crying. I stopped the car and got out asking if he was hurt. He got up making faces and they ran off laughing. They weren&amp;#8217;t threatening or anything but just having joke which annoyed me no end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate those people who allow their animals to roam around free. Still feeling sorry for the poor dog. It must be hurt to lie on the road like that although there was no blood at all. What do you do in incidents like this?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115611220640762713?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115611220640762713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115611220640762713&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115611220640762713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115611220640762713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/08/stop-or-dont-stop_115611220640762713.html' title='Stop or Don&apos;t Stop'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115547708159372756</id><published>2006-08-13T14:44:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-13T14:51:25.556+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Floods</title><content type='html'>Surat, an Indian city famous for textile and diamond business was flooded On Tuesday the 8th August 2006. The authorities released some water from overflowing dam that was becoming dangerous after days of torrential rain. 80% of the city was submerged in water. No electricity, gas, communication or transport links were working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A very few places were dry but still cut off as they couldn’t go anywhere. Most places were under water starting from few inches of water to several feet of water. It is amazing how people pull together in difficult times and help each other out. Lot of people from surrounding dry areas didn’t wait for the Government aids. They brought food, water and cloths for people as soon as they could walk in the street water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After four odd days water is receding. This is the first hand story of someone who had 3’ water in the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The cleaning procedure is going on and everyone is really tired. All the furniture (being wooden) is damaged. All big kitchen appliances couldn't be moved are useless now. Door frames are splitting and coming away. Luckily they had three/four hours warning so they shifted cloths, bedding and food upstairs. This is the minimum damage. Others have it worse. Oh don't forget the vehicles- car and motorbikes are also useless. Luckily there was only one snake swimming in the house when clearing the water but there are lots of rats and snakes around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the worse hit areas there were bodies on the trees. There was a 4 story apartment block that just collapsed like a pack of cards. Hospitals, Banks, offices, factories, everything is closed and some are still under water. Outside in the streets there is knee deep mud and gunge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most difficult part is the shortage of water. The Government aid had started long ago but was concentrated in worse areas. Helicopters were dropping food and water packages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trains, electricity and telephones have been restored in the safer areas. Surat having a big textile and diamond industry attracted millions of workers from other states. They are all going back home so the trains are overflowing. It is a total chaos.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It will take a very very long time for Surat to recover this. For now it is ruined. In the 90s, floods not as bad as this, had cause the Plague! Let’s hope it won’t be repeated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;India tries to walk two steps forward and the nature pushes her back four steps!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115547708159372756?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115547708159372756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115547708159372756&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115547708159372756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115547708159372756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/08/floods.html' title='Floods'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115542878052328848</id><published>2006-08-13T01:26:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-13T01:26:21.130+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Raksha Bandhan - Brother's Day</title><content type='html'>You know about Father’s Day and Mother’s Day but have you heard of a Brother’s Day? Well it’s not exactly called a Brother’s Day but that is what it kind of means. It is a Hindu tradition and it is called a Raksha Bandhan Day. Raksha means protection and bandhan means a bond, a tie. It is a day of the full moon according to Hindu calendar in the month of Shravan. This year it fell on the 9th August. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;On this day a sister ties a special silk thread called Rakhi on the wrist of her brother as a symbol of her love and affection for him. The brother in return gives her gifts and promises to protect her.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;You know what I am like with my stories. There are a few for Raksha Bandhan but I like this one. When India was being invaded, state by state, by the Moghuls it was said that the Invaders used to claim the Queen of the loser and remarry her. One Queen sent a rakhi to the winner saying that all men apart from her husband were like brothers to her. The winner was so impressed by that gesture that he accepted her as a sister and left her unharmed.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The tradition started from ancient times. It is said that Lord Indra, King of deities was worried about losing the battle against the demons and his wife tied a talisman, charged with religious mantras on his wrist for his protection and power. Surely he won.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Rakhi used to be a symbol of protection tied by any one to the loved one but later on it just modified into a sacred festival between brothers and sisters. Rakhi holds immense significance in Indian cultural ethos. This loving gesture goes a long way in strengthening the family ties. The brother takes on the responsibility of protecting his sister by accepting the Rakhi. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;During the time this extended not just to the blood relations but also to the spoken or spiritual brothers and sisters. During the middle ages many Rajput warriors have sacrificed their lives to protect the honour of the women who have taken them as brothers.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; The ancient history of India tells us that when Alexander the Great come to India he was resisted by King Porus. As Alexander’s wife addressed Porus as brother the brave King never harmed Alexander. When Chittor in Rajastan was attacked the Queen Karnawati sent a rakhi to Emperor Humayun and he came for help going against his own soldiers.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;In the present time sisters try to go to their brothers on the Rakhi day with sweets etc. to tie the Rakhi. Brothers give them gifts and money.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Those who are too far away send them in the post. Rakhis are made of decorated soft silk threads in various colours and designs. No matter what it looks like but each comes with the sacred verse of unity and acts as a symbol of love and family commitment. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Now this is how it is supposed to be. How many brothers and sisters do have this bond between them? Isn’t it bad that we forget all these ancient traditions from different cultures and get so wound up in the material world that we become just selfish and self-centred?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115542878052328848?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115542878052328848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115542878052328848&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115542878052328848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115542878052328848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/08/raksha-bandhan-brothers-day.html' title='Raksha Bandhan - Brother&apos;s Day'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115516820037807013</id><published>2006-08-10T01:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T01:03:20.460+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Thrill</title><content type='html'>The fireman in the dryer incident is still fresh in the media. What was the idea behind it? A dare, a thrill, a prank or just plain stupidity?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I thought we get more sensible, think more of consequences and we take fewer chances as we get older. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;As a child I remember getting all excited about lots of small things. Every thing outside the routine was a thrill. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;As I grew up getting a new dress in the latest fashion was a thrill. Getting on the bus with friends to the college and unexpectedly finding the boys we liked on the same bus was a thrill. As we started dating the romantic gestures from our respective boyfriends gave us thrills. Jumping out of the window, bunking the lessons and sitting in the cinema was a thrill. Going on holidays with friends was a thrill. Talking with girl friends about eloping with the young men of our dreams was a thrill. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Being proposed and saying yes was a thrill. Being the centre of someone’s whole existence was a thrill. Setting up a new home was a thrill. Surprising him with a special meal or a gift was a thrill.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;All these were harmless fun thrills, more of an excitement than a turbulent blood vessel bursting thrill. Every now and then we have those exhilarating, trembling, buzzing and intense physical thrills that come with the frisson. There is nothing wrong with that. It is the human nature. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Then there are some who goes that little bit further for their thrills. Their thrills get a little too quick, too often and too dangerous. They seek the thrill so they take the chance but at times they forget that their pleasure could harm someone else. The thrills get more and more daring. Isn’t like a drug addiction? You need more and more to get the same effect.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;How far would you go for a thrill? Would you drive miles to see a friend for a few minutes? Walking barefoot on the wet sand by the sea? A train ride to London theatre? Sitting on the grass on the Great Orme with a bottle of wine and a friend?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;How much risk would you take for a thrill? A ride on the big one in Blackpool? A night in the haunted house? Crossing the road in the middle of the traffic? Driving fast on the motorway? A ride on the newest, the highest and the fastest rollercoaster? Riding a fast motorbike? Flying a plane?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Parachute jump? Risking the most important thing in your life by doing something insignificant?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Taking something that belongs to someone else although you don’t need it? (Believe me, not all thieves are the needy ones.)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Would you go for more and more thrills at any cost?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115516820037807013?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115516820037807013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115516820037807013&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115516820037807013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115516820037807013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/08/thrill.html' title='Thrill'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115420041092568115</id><published>2006-07-29T20:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-29T20:13:30.976+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Real illusion</title><content type='html'>Reality is merely an illusion albeit a very persistent one. – Albert Einstein&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;An illusion is defined as:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;An illusion is a distortion of a sensory perception. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;An abnormal perception caused by a sensory misinterpretation of and actual stimulus, sometimes precipitated by strong emotion, &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;A misinterpreted perception that is caused by mistaking something present for something it is not. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Illusions commonly occur with information that is seen or heard. &lt;br/&gt;An erroneous perception of reality. An erroneous concept or belief. The condition of being deceived by a false perception or belief.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;So,&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Is love an illusion of emotional control?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Is friendship an illusion of fulfilling common needs?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Is brave upfront an illusion of hidden fears?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Is denial an illusion of self deceit?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Is detachment an illusion of self preservation?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Who decides what is illusion and what if reality? An Acceptance of a perception varies from society to society and from culture to culture so if more people thought it was a reality could an illusion become a reality?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115420041092568115?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115420041092568115/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115420041092568115&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115420041092568115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115420041092568115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/07/real-illusion.html' title='Real illusion'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115327210283780424</id><published>2006-07-19T02:21:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T02:31:27.796+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Bugs me</title><content type='html'>The college where girlie friend no. 2 (I haven’t mentioned her for a long time!) and I go for the Yoga class is closing till September. As the last class had fallen on the day of the enrolment the college was buzzing even in the evening. Not being too familiar with the recent education system (oh not in my days phrase is trying to leap out) I was quite impressed that glasses of wine were floating around in the college foyer – something to do with the enrolment? Sadly our stubborn stop at the wine table was not looked on favourably by the Yoga lady so we followed her. As our usual area was taken up, the care taker had reluctantly agreed to let us practice Yoga in the back garden area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a lovely idea to do a class in the open air especially on a hot evening on the green grass – until we settle down to doing the postures! Unfortunately, the bugs don’t like me – no untrue, they like me a lot. No matter where I am or what I am doing if there is a flying insect I will get bitten. The worst incident was when I was bitten on the eye. My eye ended up like a shining lemon and I had to be under the eye hospital for a couple of weeks. Going back to the garden in the college, during the whole hour I seem to be performing a shimmy learnt in dance class centuries ago than performing Yoga. Needless to stay I opted out to sit through the relaxation part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do the mosquitoes and the midges make a bee line to eat me, I used to ask mother when I was little. She used to say it’s because your blood is very sweet as you are my sweet girl. For years I was confused thinking I was diabetic! Why on the earth my blood would be sweet otherwise?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remembered this and smiled when I read the article in the paper that said chemicals in the body which instantly repel mosquitoes have been identified by scientists. Prof John Pickett at the Royal society Summer Science Exhibition in South-West London said that gas chromatography electoantennography break human odour into its individual chemical components. Those of us who don’t get bitten by mosquitoes produce unattractive chemicals which mask their attractive odours. This knowledge will lead to new methods of controlling biting pests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a little disheartening though that I am producing chemicals that attract bugs. What happened to my female Pheromones??????&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115327210283780424?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115327210283780424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115327210283780424&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115327210283780424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115327210283780424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/07/bugs-me.html' title='Bugs me'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115326422067545867</id><published>2006-07-19T00:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T00:14:01.356+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Tendon</title><content type='html'>I went mad on exercising and started a daily “power” get fit programme. I wanted to make up for the months that I gave up the gym. The permanent “want to lose weight” was over shadowed by “want to get fit”. Whilst going to the gym every day and spending the time there very enthusiastically I damaged/inflamed my quadriceps tendons. Yoga class on top of that didn’t help because I bravely carried on with the painful knees making them worse. I blame the warrior posture! &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;One of my pet hates is the quick get rich scheme. I wonder with disgust why people fall for these ideas when I know perfectly well there is no such thing as quick fix for anything.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;On the other hand my senses were having a nap when I thought I can get fit quickly. Of course now I cannot go to the gym at all until I am better.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Have I learnt a lesson?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115326422067545867?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115326422067545867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115326422067545867&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115326422067545867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115326422067545867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/07/tendon.html' title='Tendon'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115266205803329251</id><published>2006-07-12T00:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T00:54:18.033+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Mumbai bombing</title><content type='html'>Another atrocious incident. So sad and unnecessary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115266205803329251?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115266205803329251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115266205803329251&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115266205803329251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115266205803329251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/07/mumbai-bombing.html' title='Mumbai bombing'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115266181278111250</id><published>2006-07-12T00:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T00:50:12.790+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Yoga</title><content type='html'>Some months ago I joined the Yoga classes in the hope that I can turn a Tin (Wo)man  into a bendy baby. As you guessed it never materialised. In the first lot of lessons I missed 6 out of 10 when I went away on the holiday. The second lot of lessons I intermittently managed 5 out of 10. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am totally useless at the relaxation bit at the end of the lesson. When the teacher is saying imagine your body is getting heavier and heavier I feel like shouting “that’s the last thing I want to imagine! I want my body to be lighter not heavier!” I get my thoughts running amok in my brain. I start to shuffle around and can’t keep my eyes shut so I watch the rest of the class stretched out on the floor perfectly relaxed in the Yoga position. When the teacher says open your eyes slowly and get up in your own time I am the first one to spring up and start talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last class was on Chakras and Affirmation. That made me realise that what I am being told in this class is what I experience when I am with one of my friends. I value the fact that I can talk about anything and everything without being judged or scrutinised. The surrounding is peaceful and elating on top of that. I feel calm and relaxed when I part from his company and I appreciate myself when he tells me to always be myself, accept and be happy with myself. His favourite words “sit and stare” are easier to follow than the meditation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure he has his faults and that he probably doesn’t follow his own advice all the time but I never said he wasn’t a human being, did I? and also I am there to point them out to him, aren't I?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115266181278111250?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115266181278111250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115266181278111250&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115266181278111250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115266181278111250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/07/yoga.html' title='Yoga'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115177633681449422</id><published>2006-07-01T18:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-01T18:52:16.863+01:00</updated><title type='text'>World Cup - end of hope</title><content type='html'>Broken dream but a good try. What else can one say?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115177633681449422?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115177633681449422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115177633681449422&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115177633681449422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115177633681449422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/07/world-cup-end-of-hope.html' title='World Cup - end of hope'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115176643549127450</id><published>2006-07-01T16:06:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-01T16:07:15.493+01:00</updated><title type='text'>World Cup</title><content type='html'>Come on England, I am sure we can do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115176643549127450?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115176643549127450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115176643549127450&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115176643549127450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115176643549127450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/07/world-cup.html' title='World Cup'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115176601029052922</id><published>2006-07-01T16:00:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-07-02T01:38:03.356+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Andre Agassi</title><content type='html'>still the Ace. A great player and a lovely person. Goodbye. You will be missed. Sad result but still love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115176601029052922?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115176601029052922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115176601029052922&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115176601029052922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115176601029052922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/07/andre-agassi.html' title='Andre Agassi'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115153725559178193</id><published>2006-06-29T00:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T23:46:48.270+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Quiet and Calm</title><content type='html'>Why my life doesn’t run in the way other people have theirs with a mixture of things happening at the same time? Mine seems to go through the phases of things or that’s how it feels to me. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When I am lonely I have nobody but then times change and I have everybody. There are times when I have nothing to do and nowhere to go but then there are times when I have too many people and too many invitations. When I am down everything around me comes with more problems but then things are right and almost everything goes straight forward and smooth.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I have no control over most things that happen around me.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Lately things are going good and steady. There are many people around me giving me happiness. There is nothing I have done to make that happen. I am just the same. They too are same so why am I getting more from them than I did in the previous phase? How is it that most things seem to go right – be it work or personal? It is a little frustrating because I know this will turn again and things just will not work out right even if I try harder than now.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am a little lost -in a good way- by my Sickie being so well for a long while. I don’t want to say it or even think it just in case it is only a dream. I might have just imagined it and it will go away if I say it loudly. Mind you I must also remind myself that he is just better not cured so don’t take this for granted.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Mother and the dog are reasonably plodding along. Even if there were not I can accept the inevitable differently some times and panic about it the other times. Why?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It’s not about how I handle things when I am going through different moods (by the way I DO NOT suffer from mood swings etc....well no more than normal...lol). &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I know changes are certain in the life cycle and happiness and sadness follow each other but what I am talking about is when everything remains same and even then the outcome turns out different. Why?&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;It’s perhaps strangely quiet and calm at the moment because no one is emotionally fighting with me! …. LOL…No doubt it will not last forever……….&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115153725559178193?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115153725559178193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115153725559178193&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115153725559178193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115153725559178193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/06/quiet-and-calm.html' title='Quiet and Calm'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115076417914207920</id><published>2006-06-20T01:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T01:42:59.206+01:00</updated><title type='text'>One Word</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;One Word&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One word from you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And my world turned upside down&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vehement iceberg hit the rock&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Creating a whirlpool whizzing around&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One word from you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And my world started whirling around&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Powerful currents pulling me strong&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Whilst I float numb and bound&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One word from you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And my world turned into a crown&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Blinding diamond set in pure gold&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The precious jewel I lost and found&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One word from you&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And my world was safe and sound&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Protect it with love and care&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Once resurrected from the ground&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115076417914207920?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115076417914207920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115076417914207920&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115076417914207920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115076417914207920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/06/one-word.html' title='One Word'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115049722094266779</id><published>2006-06-16T23:33:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T23:33:41.003+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday Entertainment</title><content type='html'>Friday nights used to be my favourite nights some years ago because it was the night I didn’t have to think about getting up for work the next day. There were also comedy programmes on the TV I used to love to watch. Even though I now work Saturday mornings my week-end feeling on Friday night hasn’t gone away. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I don’t watch much television although it is always on behind me when I am on the PC. I didn’t want to use the PC tonight but I didn’t think there was anything particularly worth watching on the TV tonight either.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;What’s the point in watching the football when your teams aren’t playing and as for Big Brother I still haven’t fathomed out why people watch it or what all the fuss it about. Mind you I don’t need to find the entertainment on the TV living where I live.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It is still light outside and all the off licences and food take away are buzzing on my road. There are about ten kids out there on the bicycles and on foot. They are playing football by kicking the ball across the two footpaths while two little ones are riding the bikes in a circle on the road. People driving passed are braking, slowing down and then carry on. People are watching but no one says anything. This is busy road and some one could get hurt. The youngest one looks about 8 and the oldest about 17. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Perhaps I should ask them to go and play on the motorway. OK OK this is my nasty side speaking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115049722094266779?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115049722094266779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115049722094266779&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115049722094266779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115049722094266779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/06/friday-entertainment.html' title='Friday Entertainment'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115006932391001465</id><published>2006-06-12T00:42:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T00:49:23.386+01:00</updated><title type='text'>18 miles from home</title><content type='html'>That’s how far it was. Just up the motorway and you are there in no time at all. Was it a different world? Not quite perhaps but it was different enough. It was beautiful nevertheless. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I have been to see my friends at their new place. It is on a hill in a village in the country. Not a traditional permanent fixed abode – well it could be permanent and it is fixed but it is not a traditional house. There were miles of picturesque scenery and walks. It made a hot sunny day worth while. People were friendly, pubs were inviting and food was wholesome and tasty. What was most charming was a little happy face drawn and a thank you written on the bill for the dinner. I have been to different eateries - from little cafés to 5 star hotel restaurants – but not had a smiley thank you drawn on my bill. It was a nice gesture, wouldn’t you say? &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Could I leave my rat race for such a life? It would be peaceful and stress free. I am a little, I stress, a little tempted to try it but was it beautiful because my friends were there? Was it beautiful because it was a time to chill out? Was it beautiful as an idea for a few days’ holidays? Was it beautiful enough to change the direction in life? We will wait and see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115006932391001465?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115006932391001465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115006932391001465&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115006932391001465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115006932391001465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/06/18-miles-from-home.html' title='18 miles from home'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-115006536949168942</id><published>2006-06-11T23:36:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T00:59:35.813+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Spitting</title><content type='html'>Have you noticed this? You are just going about your business and so are other people on the road. If any of those other people are young men in a group of three or more one is bound to spit on the road. It’s not that they are eating something that was horrible or are eating a chewing gum that has gone tasteless – not that it is an excuse to spit it on the road.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;~By the way, someone was fined in Bolton centre for spitting a chewing gum on the footpath – excellent! Do you have any idea why young people spit on the road? The excuse that they copy their sports idols or whatever is just lame. Spitting on a public road is so disgusting and unhygienic and should be acceptable.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-115006536949168942?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/115006536949168942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=115006536949168942&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115006536949168942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/115006536949168942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/06/spitting.html' title='Spitting'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114956708772010848</id><published>2006-06-06T05:11:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T05:11:27.800+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't sleep</title><content type='html'>It’s 3.30 in the morning and I am up. Couldn’t sleep. Only went to bed three hours earlier! Perhaps because I am full of chest cold and cough and have got a bad headache. Perhaps because all sorts of things are going in my mind and none of those are the solutions to any of those things. There is nothing wrong. Everything seems to be ticking over steadily so why do I feel empty?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It seems that my life is no further forward than it was six months ago. Then again lots of things have happened in the last six months. I have had good fun and done some worthwhile things. Had a good time at the Conference only a couple of weeks ago. So why do I feel that I am just existing for the sake of existing? Am I the kind of person who needs constant external stimulation in life? It hasn’t been bad lately. Not had that many problems. Is that why I am feeling stale? Why can’t I just accept the life as it is and be content with it? Do I always have to have things going on and targets to achieve? I need to learn to let go the chase of getting somewhere and to someone who is not there. How do I do that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114956708772010848?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114956708772010848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114956708772010848&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114956708772010848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114956708772010848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/06/cant-sleep.html' title='Can&apos;t sleep'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114928394099013325</id><published>2006-06-02T22:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T22:32:21.090+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I losing interest?</title><content type='html'>Have I got nothing to write about? Have I got too much to write about hence don’t know what to write?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br/&gt;Am I happy with everything and don’t feel the need to empty my mind? Am I too unhappy that I can’t be bothered? &lt;br/&gt;Have I got too much time to do other things than the PC? Have I got no time for myself to go on the PC? &lt;br/&gt;Am I writing for others who are unknown to me? Am I writing for myself even though I know everything about me?&lt;br/&gt;Is my life too full that I see no need to write? Is my life just empty so there is no need to write?&lt;br/&gt;Am I losing interest?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I am writing this so does it means I am still interested? &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114928394099013325?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114928394099013325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114928394099013325&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114928394099013325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114928394099013325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/06/am-i-losing-interest.html' title='Am I losing interest?'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114885477335806056</id><published>2006-05-28T23:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-28T23:19:33.430+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire Alarm</title><content type='html'>I am back after nearly a week away. My attendance to the Conference this year was less stressful than the past. First of all my Sickie and the dog both are better so less worry to leave them alone and secondly I didn’t have any compulsory speech to deliver. As it turns out I probably spoke on more topics but at least it was by choice and in the spirit of the debate.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It was a very busy week as I am on a couple of other committees and was forever being called for the meetings. In the evening we had a bit of socialising and entertaining to do so the economy of the city didn’t get the additional boost with my shopping. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;One evening we were rushing to get to a dinner Dance after the hard day’s work. There was only so much time to get ready. As I am always late my friends threatened to ring the alarm bells if I didn’t come out of my room in time for the taxi. As I got showered and did my hair and make up I heard the loud alarm going off. Surely that can’t be for me even though it was getting close to the agreed time. Surely they wouldn’t put up a stunt like that even though I couldn’t put it passed them to play a prank……No, it was real. It was the fire alarm. I heard one of my friends who stayed in the next room knocking on my door shouting for me to get out. I said I wasn’t ready. He was getting pretty angry and kept on knocking on the door. I had to put the dress on and rush out. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;He got a couple of elderly ladies out from the neighbouring rooms and pushed us all to the stairs on the left. He was very much in control and knew what he was doing…or so it seemed. We went down the stairs, walked through the passage in the cellar, and went up a flight of stairs with the poor ladies puffed out of breath in a state of shock. Where do we arrive??? The same corridor we started from!! We could have come out of the rooms and walked two steps on the right we would have been there in a second! We were too panicked to strangle him at that moment in time.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;So there we were, sixty odd guests, all fully or half dressed, with or without shoes, not knowing what was going on. I had left hand finger nails painted and right hand not painted, mascara on one eye and not the other, had a party frock on but no shoes and most of all was getting late for a great party. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;As it transpired later that one of guests had tried to dry her hair in the bathroom with the door closed and that triggered the fire alarm.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Mind you at times like this you know who your friends are, even though they drag you through the longest way possible when the fire alarm goes off! His reason was that it was sign posted “fire exit” that way. We forgave him after he bought the fifth round to calm our nerves.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;No wonder I am feeling flat, empty and living in a slow motion after all the adrenalin rush and high of an exciting week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114885477335806056?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114885477335806056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114885477335806056&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114885477335806056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114885477335806056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/05/fire-alarm.html' title='Fire Alarm'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114807535415669966</id><published>2006-05-19T22:13:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T22:49:14.250+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Inspiration</title><content type='html'>I have not been blogging as much as I did a little while ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Generally the reason is lack of time. Some times you just don't feel like it - may be because of the mood you are in or you are tired or your reasons for writing have changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some times you just don't have anything to write about- so to speak. Of course there is always something going on in the world that you could write about but the inspiration to express yourself usually comes from life events and people in your life, don't you agree? May be I am mixing up inspiration with reaction. Generally you react and respond to people and events. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is inspiration?  The poets, writers, inventors talk about inspiration. Inspiration is an idea coming to your head on which you act. Something triggers them to think of the idea so is it not just a reaction?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I am splitting hair for nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to a conference for a week so blog you again in a few days time. I hope you try harder than me to blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114807535415669966?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114807535415669966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114807535415669966&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114807535415669966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114807535415669966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/05/inspiration.html' title='Inspiration'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114773697610626820</id><published>2006-05-16T00:35:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T00:57:24.063+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hole in Your Head</title><content type='html'>You have a hole in your head. O Boy it hurts so much. It gives you no end of pain. You have to do so much to keep it under control. Your complete attention is focused on that hole in your head. You can’t ignore it nor forget it because its presence is demanding. You are so used to that pain. You have no choice. It’s your head and it’s your hole. You have to put up with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day the hole is gone. The pain is gone. You are cured and free. Only problem is you are lost without your pain. Your life is empty. There is Nothing to focus on. Nothing to keep you occupied. With that hole in your head at least you felt alive. Now you feel dead. You used to cry when it hurt and smile when it was better. Now you have no feeling. The hole in your head is gone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is like some relationships in our lives. You can’t live with them but you can’t live without them either!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know that the people who drove you mad, made you climb the wall, annoyed you to death, drove you round the bend are better far away from you BUT can you let them go? Do you unknowingly secretly wish they come back in your life? You know very well that the same thing will start again but can you really push them away? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't you close that chapter? Is it because you have feelings for them? Is it because you need emotional torture? Is it because you see them as a challenge? Is it because there is no one else to take their place? or is it your unknown, unproven past asrological connection with them?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114773697610626820?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114773697610626820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114773697610626820&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114773697610626820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114773697610626820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/05/hole-in-your-head.html' title='Hole in Your Head'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114773362674396547</id><published>2006-05-15T23:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T23:53:46.843+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfection</title><content type='html'>People are never perfect. All humans are imperfect. Some can come very close to being perfect but never completely. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Life can never be perfect. Even if we achieve everything we want, if it ever was possible, it will still not be perfect because our expectations will extend and our wants will change.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Can love be perfect? Can you have a perfect happiness? Can you have a perfect relationship? Knowing that nothing is perfect should you be looking for perfection? When everything is imperfect then does the imperfection becomes acceptable and normal hence imperfection becomes perfect?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When we feel incomplete we try to search for something or somebody to complete us. In time we find that we are still far away from being fulfilled. We blame everything and everyone and go on searching.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Perhaps we need to realise that each of us are responsible for our own fulfilment, our own perfect feeling. No one can provide that for us, we need to find that for ourselves.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Perhaps contentment is perfection. When we are content we have everything the way we want – perfectly.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;……BUT how can we find our fulfilment without that perfect x, y, and z? Without x, y, z we fell incomplete but x, y, z are not perfect anyway so how can they give us perfection!!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Perhaps we are looking for a perfect x, y, and z because the search makes the life move forward. If we did ever find the perfection we wouldn’t know what to do with it. Our lives will be finished. Perhaps our search for perfection is impetus for our life.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114773362674396547?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114773362674396547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114773362674396547&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114773362674396547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114773362674396547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/05/perfection.html' title='Perfection'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114695626675723771</id><published>2006-05-06T23:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T15:58:38.913+01:00</updated><title type='text'>My Desert Safari</title><content type='html'>Some weeks have passed since I returned from my holiday. A friend asked me what I enjoyed most in Dubai. A couple of tours in Dubai have made an impression on my mind. Dune driving was one of those two.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Unfortunately I did not get a chance to drive in the sand. I bet it would be an adventure in itself just like a skid driving on ice. Mind you it is nothing like driving on ice. It is more like driving on the snow because the sand underneath keeps shifting. We booked on a Safari tour. The drivers are professional desert driving experts. An Arab gentleman in the traditional gear of white long robe and the head covering picked us up from the hotel in this jeep type car. I had no idea that the same car was our mechanical camel for the desert safari. When he saw the wheel chair he said no way. You can&amp;#8217;t push a wheel chair on the sand! Not reading about it before I had no clue as to what the safari would entail. We arrived at a designated area. There were other similar cars waiting for us.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; A fleet of six 4x4 Toyotas was prepared by reducing the air pressure in the tyres before we entered the desert. It was amazing how the leading car driver found his way round the desert area. It looked same everywhere with mountains of golden sand all over. Some were small hills and some were like small mountains. The skill of driving a car on the dunes is no lesser than any stunt driver. Riding in the car that went up and down the dunes was like riding on a rollercoaster. We were in the second car so it was a fun to watch the one in the front. The cars went up the dune at a high speed, slowed down on the summit and descended at an angle.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When the cars were tilted sideways as they came down some dunes, they could easily have toppled over had it not been for the skill of the drivers. The sand was flying in the front and on the sides like brown clouds. I was getting the butterfly in my tummy when the car was going down the dune. It was a great sensation. I was a bit worried about my Sickie as the ride was so bumpy we bounced off the seat and landed again on it all the time. I tried to take the photos but holding the camera with one hand and hanging on to the handles in the car meant the photos were hit and miss &amp;#8211; more miss than hit!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;We stopped after our rollercoaster rides. We all got out of the cars except one of course. Most of us tried to walk around on the sand. It was so difficult! Just to walk a very small distance was extremely tiring as your feet sink deep in the sand. Walking bare foot on the sand is a lovely feeling like paddling on the sea shore. There were some wild little desert plants with odd flower here and there grown naturally. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Afterwards we were taken to a tent for some picnic and entertainment. A tasty barbecue was prepared and the night went ahead with a belly dancing show.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It was a trip to remember.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114695626675723771?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114695626675723771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114695626675723771&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114695626675723771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114695626675723771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/05/my-desert-safari.html' title='My Desert Safari'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114601642357465712</id><published>2006-04-26T02:53:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T15:22:59.436+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Your Picture - Poem</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Your Picture&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your picture on my mind wall&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Flowing your charm like a waterfall&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Making me fall for you over and again&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Losing my heart, mind, body and soul&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Time stood still in that beautiful hall&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Passion burning like a big fireball&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When you drew me close in your arms&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I surrendered myself complete and whole&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On Big Mountains and trees grown tall&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Or a pretty little peaceful corner small&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Walking together hand in hand&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Once in a while when we are alone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Reciprocation of love I wish to enrol&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Happy memories filling the hole&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Looking at your picture on my mind wall&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In my mind I am giving you a call&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It brings smile to my face&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Our special moments when I recall&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Looking at your picture on my mind wall&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I wonder if you too would ever recall &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114601642357465712?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114601642357465712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114601642357465712&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114601642357465712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114601642357465712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/04/your-picture-poem.html' title='Your Picture - Poem'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114582367615150760</id><published>2006-04-23T20:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T21:38:58.806+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Head (&amp; mind) of State</title><content type='html'>If famous and powerful people admit to their weakness would we still respect them and their authority? I am not saying whether the statement by &lt;a href="http://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/news/tm_objectid=16974701&amp;method=full&amp;siteid=66633&amp;headline=bush--is-suffering-from-serious-mental-illness---name_page.html"&gt;Professor Justin Frank &lt;/a&gt;that the US President suffers from a serious mental illness is right or wrong. No doubt a denial and perhaps a threat of litigation would be coming forward from the White House but what would the world's reaction be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sir Winston churchill was reported to suffer from depression. It was said that he used to dictate letters to his secretaries half-dressed and roamed around in his rooms nude when awoke in the night. Was his patiality to alcohol and habit of smoking known in his political period? or the conviction that Churchill was among the most important men in modern history had come about after his death?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Physical illness does get some sympathy but if more people admitted to their mental illness would the stigma and fear be less than what we have now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114582367615150760?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114582367615150760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114582367615150760&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114582367615150760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114582367615150760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/04/head-mind-of-state.html' title='Head (&amp; mind) of State'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114574150400779690</id><published>2006-04-22T21:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-04-22T22:31:44.083+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Catching up</title><content type='html'>Did I say I was back and was sane and well? Well half of that statement is right. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's not split hairs - forget the sane bit -but I am definitely not well. I am sure the air conditioning in Dubai is responsible for my stinking cold and the barking cough. I am guilty of all the holiday crimes possible. I do too much when I am on a holiday. I am not the one to sit on the beach or by the pool. I want to explore and experience the new places and make most of my time there. So I am more tired when I return from a holiday than before I went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being away for a month leaves you a lot to catch uo on. Starting with keeping Mr.Revenue happy with the PAYE returns, not forgetting the generous £250 reward for filing them!  A lot to read up on and the ironing now has reached the ceiling. Mind you I still have enough gear to pass a month or two without needing them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A meeting will take up all day tomorrow. another one on Monday evening after a full day at work. Tuesday evening is booked to take a friend to the hospital visiting someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is just a note to let you know that I am still playing a catching up game. Whether I win it or give up on it remains to be seen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114574150400779690?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114574150400779690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114574150400779690&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114574150400779690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114574150400779690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/04/catching-up.html' title='Catching up'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114513172746321723</id><published>2006-04-15T20:22:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-04-18T01:09:04.256+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Sweet Home</title><content type='html'>I am back. Poor and penniless but sane and well. Every time I go to see mum and return back home I feel low and depressed so this time I decided to outwit my brain. I thought I should take some time just chilling before coming home. This is to fool my brain in thinking that I have been on a week's holiday and now I am going back so no need to get upset! I think it has worked...So far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a very good time in Dubai in spite of one or two hiccups. Anyone who likes a city break would like Dubai. No need to say any one who likes shopping would love Dubai! I managed to settle down my emotional rush and tension that had escalated by seeing the relatives and actually enjoyed the break. More about Dubai later on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how much you like to stay with the family or how much you like to go away on a holiday, there is no place like home. As soon as I saw the little houses and little roads of Manchester from the plane I felt calm and comfortable. All the thoughts of moving abroad disappeared. The offices were still there, the car was still there and the dog soon arrived. I said to myself I like being at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the reality struck. Half an hour later took the dog to the park and heard rude comments directed towards me. Three lads were showing off to the couple of girls with them so I ignored what they were saying and carried on texting on the mobile. During the night the dog got me up. Outside the door there was a 14/15 year old boy shouting and swearing and breaking glass bottles on our step. He was totally drunk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I glad to be home? I suppose I still am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114513172746321723?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114513172746321723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114513172746321723&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114513172746321723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114513172746321723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/04/home-sweet-home.html' title='Home Sweet Home'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114345271027225238</id><published>2006-03-27T10:44:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T10:45:11.103+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick</title><content type='html'>I am sick as a parrot....puke puke puke.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114345271027225238?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114345271027225238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114345271027225238&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114345271027225238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114345271027225238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/03/sick.html' title='Sick'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114314366542397033</id><published>2006-03-23T19:43:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-23T19:54:25.480Z</updated><title type='text'>A Week On</title><content type='html'>I've only been here a week but it feels like ages on one hand but on the other &lt;br /&gt;hand I am upset that its only two more weeks left before I leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am fine in day time and can think rationally but at night when everyone is &lt;br /&gt;asleep I am again having panics thinking that my mum might not be here next &lt;br /&gt;time I visit. I feel deep unhappiness that she is so sad without me and so concerned about me. I know that I will not have any love to match hers, (despite her nagging..LOL.) I wish I was strong like some people I know who can be in control,untouched and objective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other brighter side we managed to get mum out of bed and take a few steps. That cheered her up as she started to hope that she will be able to take care of her basic needs herself. Family believes that seeing me has given her the will power and wish to get up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had better get off the PC before mum starts to nag again. I am trying to have a quick glance at messages and write a quick note while I am here. Hope to catch up properly on return.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114314366542397033?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114314366542397033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114314366542397033&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114314366542397033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114314366542397033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/03/week-on.html' title='A Week On'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114294021214195598</id><published>2006-03-21T11:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-21T11:23:32.153Z</updated><title type='text'>Enough?</title><content type='html'>Perhaps not but I miss my dog, my home, my work, my life and you! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This visit feels different than the last one and the one before that one. It may be due to the fact that I/we are not going sight seeing or any where else in the country. My sole intention this time is to stay with mother every second possible. In the past we used to go on holidays together with the family. I feel aimless and lost without work. Although I am sure I can get used to that...LOL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's making me sad that everyone are not getting on. I notice that mum goes on about my sister-in-law. She is that one who will be looking after mum when we have gone. I wish they get on so that my mum's later life will not be unhappy but they both are strong personalities and will not give in. Oh well.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114294021214195598?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114294021214195598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114294021214195598&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114294021214195598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114294021214195598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/03/enough.html' title='Enough?'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114288430845324746</id><published>2006-03-20T19:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-20T19:51:48.516Z</updated><title type='text'>Space</title><content type='html'>It's 1 am on Tuesday here so all are in bed. I have sneaked out from the little arms of my lovely niece who sleeps with me. Mum is nagging me to go to bed because the PC is in her room. Although she is ill she is still talking non-stop in case there isn't time left to talk to me. She won't sleep till I go to bed. I don't think mum is happy but then again it is impossible to change things to make everything right. She just said she feels for her children not having an easy life. I thinks its just a mother's point of view. Everyone has to work hard to achieve what they want and not everyone achieve that despite hard work. We all try to find contentment in life but we all need different things to make us happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me, I have all the love I need here but here I am still up and missing something. I want this life here but I want that life there too. I can't cope with this love of my family now that I have got it. I am frightened of being too attached to it. I am floating in space in between what I have and what I am afraid of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't know why I am writing this but now I have I may as well send it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114288430845324746?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114288430845324746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114288430845324746&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114288430845324746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114288430845324746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/03/space.html' title='Space'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114268163397175082</id><published>2006-03-18T11:31:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-18T11:33:53.983Z</updated><title type='text'>Off we go</title><content type='html'>Did anyone wonder why I was quiet for a few days? I was preparing for my visit to the family. The stress of leaving the businesses and the dog was building up but on top of that what presents to take for everyone was driving me to insanity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will sound silly to you that gifts should take up so much of your energy but when you love someone you want to share all the things you enjoy and the airlines have weight restrictions. When I left my family years ago the technology was not so advanced. Making a call on the telephone was a major task. I didn’t see them for years because of many reasons including financial affordability. I have seen mum almost every two to three years in the last decade but I had hardly seen my dad when he was well. Only time I saw him was he was terminally ill. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even when I was younger I used to save things for my brother and sister if they weren’t with me – be it toffees or toys. Now I feel that I am better off than they are and I want to give them the things they probably cannot afford. So here I am on the airport with two largest suitcases one could find, two hand luggage, a handbag and a wheelchair that Sickie insisted he wasn’t going to use. Everything has gone well except being frisked! We enter the security checks and as I pass the gate the alarms go off. The nice security man wanted to examine my handbag. He checked it some kind of metal thin rod with a square little cloth on the top end. It kept going off. I had to empty all the contents and have them checked individually. They all kept going off. It was never established what was causing them to go off. I suggested it was my magnetism but they said it must be some kind of chemical like a hair spray (which I do not use!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So off we go to another planet…….well that’s how it feels. You all be good and behave.  Keep me in your address book and do visit me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114268163397175082?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114268163397175082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114268163397175082&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114268163397175082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114268163397175082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/03/off-we-go.html' title='Off we go'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114177936289724850</id><published>2006-03-08T00:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-08T00:58:57.796Z</updated><title type='text'>Flapping</title><content type='html'>I am flapping my wings in the direction of the Capital for some meeting. What could have been a work cum social pleasure is becoming a very stressful exercise with my going away to mum’s next week. Not just flapping the wings, I am flapping all over. Just like a headless chicken, with or without flu. Arranging everything for one whole month especially when Mr. Revenue will be ending the year while I am away is not an easy task.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Nothing sorted, nothing packed and nothing I feel enthusiastic about. Worried about the dog, concerned about the offices and frustrated about most things but I suppose when I am on that plane I will start to enjoy – I hope – until Sickie starts to worry me about his health.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;For now I shouldn’t be writing the blog. I should be getting the bag ready for tomorrow so bye for now.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;See you Saturday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114177936289724850?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114177936289724850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114177936289724850&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114177936289724850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114177936289724850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/03/flapping.html' title='Flapping'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114134808597206598</id><published>2006-03-03T01:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-03T01:08:06.030Z</updated><title type='text'>Operation Straddle</title><content type='html'>I am getting lazier and lazier or to be fair busier and busier to update my blog. I am planning to take a month off to visit mum who is not keeping well. There is a lot to sort out and arrange. There is a lot going on at work too. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;On top of that I am recovering from a cramp from the other night’s meeting. Thanks to the person who parked his car next to mine in the hotel car park where the meeting was held! When I came out after all the delegates had gone I noticed that there was a gap of mere 2” to get in the driving seat. My wing mirror looked very cosy in the company of his wing mirror.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Even Ally McBeal or Liz Hurley wouldn’t have got in the car with that little space so little old me with my extra padding stood no chance. There were over 125 cars in the car park and I didn’t feel like wasting the time for the night porter to find the owner to move it. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I got in from the passenger side and tried to straddle over. The right leg was fine but after that I was stuck. As my seat is pulled forward for my feet to reach peddles there wasn’t enough space to move about. I tried to pull my left leg over the gear stick and the high heels caught the CD switch and the hazard light switch. Now I had music to go with the flashing lights. Things would have been more civilised had I pushed the chair back before I started the operation. It would have helped if I had put the handbag away, taken the jacket off and taken the shoes off.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The high heel of my shoe was scratching the cockpit veneer and the scratches were made on my heart at the same time.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;My leg had stopped reaching my head a number of years ago.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;For God’s sake I had only taken one lesson of Yoga last week. I couldn’t be expected to bend my now stuck leg over to my nose and down into the well of the driver’s seat with these tight trousers now even more tight with umpteen coffees and the buffet in my belly! I had to undo the chain so that I can reach the lever under the seat on the left hand side to push the chair back. Heaven! As soon as the seat moved back there was more space to bring the left leg in.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I tried to scan around while driving out to check if anyone had seen the suspicious behaviour but luckily it was too cold for people to be out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114134808597206598?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114134808597206598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114134808597206598&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114134808597206598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114134808597206598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/03/operation-straddle.html' title='Operation Straddle'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114098629689292683</id><published>2006-02-26T20:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-26T20:38:16.940Z</updated><title type='text'>Circle</title><content type='html'>Do you think there are some people put in your life just to make your life more difficult? No matter how hard you try you just wind each other up. Things so great for a while and then you start to argue again. You start to hurt each other again. You know you can’t live without each other but at the same time you can’t live with each other either. You love them dearly and kind of hate them too. No perhaps not hate but you are totally mad with them.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;You think you are going to stop yourself going through this rollercoaster ride. You say enough is enough. You absolutely want to be close to them but you know that it is going to drive you mad if you do. You decide that you are going to detach yourself. You can’t just sever the attachment but you are going to take a step back. You are going to go as far as possible without completely disappearing.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;You think you have walked away. You think you have cut that tie. You think you are getting on with your life. It is hard and sad but you have to get on with it. Then some little trickle and boom they are back in and you start all over again. The pain and the sadness come back again. The wish and want resurfaces again. The circle starts again.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Unless you are strong enough to stop it before that circle starts to rotate or strong enough to spin safely in it to enjoy the thrill. How do you know that you are?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114098629689292683?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114098629689292683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114098629689292683&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114098629689292683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114098629689292683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/02/circle.html' title='Circle'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114063262545621603</id><published>2006-02-22T18:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-23T01:27:44.773Z</updated><title type='text'>FEBRUARY 22</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;February 22&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Happy Birthday &lt;/strong&gt;to all of us born on this day.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;February 22 is the 53rd day of every year in the Gregorian calendar. There are 312 days remaining in 2006.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;What have I achieved in these first 53 days of the year? Nothing significant. I have let some people make me feel angry, sad, upset, hurt, resentful, rueful and less confident. I have decided that for the rest of the 312 days I am going to change that. I am going to be my own man (well really my own woman). I am determined to enjoy the rest of 312 days.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Not going to sit around looking at the horizon like last year. There is nothing there on horizon and if there is it needs to come towards me, not me to it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It has been a satisfactory day. Work successful, interview with the news reporter successful,&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;gym worthwhile, walking the dog enjoyable (without falling anywhere), spent some time at home with dearest Sickie and skyped with mum and brother – cheerful, lots of texts, calls and some presents for the birthday –&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;house nice and tidy – successful. Now all duties and responsibilities take care of so this is my time without feeling guilty.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;To start the ball rolling I am going to go out for a meal and a little booze up with some girlie friends. When I return hopefully I will not go on to the lost winding path.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I will end the day with some Classic Quotes by George Washington, the First American President born on this day in 1732. Actually he wasn’t born on the 22nd February. &lt;br/&gt; He was actually born on February 11, 1731. During Washington's lifetime, people in Great Britain and America switched from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar (something most of Europe had done in 1582). As a result of this calendar reform, people born before 1752 were told to add 11 days to their birth dates. Those born between January 1 and March 25, as Washington was, also had to add one year to be in sync with the new calendar. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;But I am going to take credit of sharing my birthday with a famous man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Classic Quotes by George Washington :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A slender acquaintance with the world must convince every man that actions, not words, are the true criterion of the attachment of friends. &lt;br /&gt;-------------------- &lt;br /&gt;Associate with men of good quality if you esteem your own reputation; for it is better to be alone than in bad company. &lt;br /&gt;-------------------- &lt;br /&gt;Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence.&lt;br /&gt;---------------------&lt;br /&gt;Friendship is a plant of slow growth and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114063262545621603?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114063262545621603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114063262545621603&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114063262545621603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114063262545621603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/02/february-22.html' title='FEBRUARY 22'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-114013623633630241</id><published>2006-02-17T00:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-17T00:30:36.400Z</updated><title type='text'>Mosquito  Buzz</title><content type='html'>I have got a whistle that only dogs can hear - so they say. I bought it to stop myself look and sound like a fish-wife first thing in the morning when I am shouting for the dog to come back from her walk so that I can get to work on time. I try to blow my lungs into this whistle thing but I have been unsuccessful in looking like a cultured, sophisticated, and masterful and in command dog owner. The dog looks up to the whistle thing in my mouth from far away, squinting her eyes (probably cataracts coming on), realises that it is not a piece of food so carries on mooching on the ground.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Now we are blessed with a device that only certain age group can hear. I am all for trying out new things. I wonder if the local council will give grants or the bank manager will arrange an overdraft for the purchase. (Being sarcastic by the way).&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I have a CCTV inside and outside so that I can watch the pea brains trying to destroy my property by writing on it, puking on it or kicking it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It was suggested earlier that I could have bright spot lights and a tape recording that come on automatic when two legged dogs are watering my walls - in spite of coming out of the pub with toilets only four steps away.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Now to make my life dull and peaceful by taking all the stress and anxiety away on Friday and Saturday nights brought on by the young Salfordians' group hanging around the said property; a new device has been invented. I will have nothing to do if they stop sitting on my step drinking, breaking glass bottles, shouting, screaming, fighting, banging on the door, eating pie and chips and putting some in the letter box for solidarity and scattering rubish outside.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Mr. Howard Stapleton at the age of 12 wondered why he could not bear the noise from high frequency welding equipment in a London factory while other older workers didn't hear a thing. As a result we have this device called Mosquito that emits a high-frequency pulsing sound that is designed to irritate, annoy and disperse the gangs of youths hanging outside shops and places. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;That is so unfair. What will the poor dears do if they can’t annoy other people while their parents are having a bit of social life in the pubs?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I did get off the right side of the bed in the morning, honest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-114013623633630241?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/114013623633630241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=114013623633630241&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114013623633630241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/114013623633630241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/02/mosquito-buzz.html' title='Mosquito  Buzz'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113987672762905534</id><published>2006-02-14T00:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-14T00:25:27.710Z</updated><title type='text'>Heart! we will forget him</title><content type='html'>Emily Dickinson (1830 – 1886)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Heart, we will forget him,&lt;br/&gt;You and I, tonight!&lt;br/&gt;You must forget the warmth he gave,&lt;br/&gt;I will forget the light.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When you have done pray tell me,&lt;br/&gt;Then I, my thoughts, will dim.&lt;br/&gt;Haste! ‘lest while you’re lagging&lt;br/&gt;I may remember him! &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Despite tremendous talents and good education most of Emily’s life was spent in seclusion. Only a very few, around seven of her poems were published in her life time. Her poems are more attractive to me because they are short and to the point.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I love this poem. It is about the pain of getting over someone that she loves. She still loves him because she remembers the warmth of his heart and the light he showed to her mind. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;First I thought the poem is dripping with the lost love - the perfect love she found in him but isn’t there any more and is not likely to be reached again. Then I thought it is full of pain of unrequited love.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When we love someone in imagination it is easy to believe they are perfect and idealize them. She wants to forget him because loving someone who doesn’t love you causes lot of pain.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;This is the clear battle between the mind and heart. The mind is forcefully convinced to forget him but if the heart doesn’t co-operate then she might weaken. If she remembers him again then she will feel that pain again.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;After all said and done, it is still better to love and lost then not love at all. Let us make the most of what we have in present instead of what it was in the past or what we wish for the future.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY &lt;br/&gt;XX&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113987672762905534?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113987672762905534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113987672762905534&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113987672762905534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113987672762905534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/02/heart-we-will-forget-him.html' title='Heart! we will forget him'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113978799937681709</id><published>2006-02-11T17:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-13T00:00:22.780Z</updated><title type='text'>Upbringing</title><content type='html'>After a lot of whinging and putting a stone on in weight (on top of the few tonnes acquired previously) I have come to reiterate my belief that being emotionally open doesn't make me inferior to someone who may call themselves "strong" or "in control". By the way I defy an Indian saying which translates that worry and unhappiness is like a funeral pyre, it burns you to your bones. If I am unhappy I get fat! Most people can't eat when they are worried or sad. I am opposite - I comfort eat. Going back to one of the reasons of my raised emotion was that I was feeling guilty for me being myself - the way I am. Why should I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could be wrong but it seems to me that an English person born and brought up here is a little aloof, untouched, self-centered and self-preserving where emotions are concerned compared with some other cultures. Perhaps I am not explaining this very well. Sure people are self-preserving by nature. What I am trying to say is that I find that as a race English are less emotional or may be they are emotional but they do not show them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again some of my friends who are born and brought up here but are open to show their emotions. I think it is the way people are brought up makes them open or "closed". People who have had a hard upbringing probably keeps their emotions in check. If there were problems in childhood when they grow up they probably keeps things to themselves as a learnt behaviour. Could they do it for self preservation in case letting their true self out might make them vulnerable? Do they think it is a sign of weakness to let go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even at a loved one's funeral the English try to stay composed. I am sure it takes a very strong will to stay in control when your world around you may have collapsed. I admire those people for their control but we call that their dignity. Why is it not dignified to let yourself go? What is wrong in being yourself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I digressed. My qualm was with the stone-faced, stone-hearted, self-controlled and self-preserving robots who are in fact frightened of someone seeing them for what they truly are. To hide their shortfall they make you feel weak for being a human.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113978799937681709?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113978799937681709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113978799937681709&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113978799937681709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113978799937681709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/02/upbringing.html' title='Upbringing'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113944322216995912</id><published>2006-02-09T00:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-10T00:37:50.236Z</updated><title type='text'>Free</title><content type='html'>I forgot to say thank you for my monopoly "Get out of Jail" free card. It was very cute and made me laugh. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I don't have any experience or knowledge of physical prison. No, I think that is a lie. Perhaps I do have an idea of the feeling of being physically imprisoned. There was a time when I had to stay in the house most of my days and nights but it was not impossible to walk out if I didn't worry about the consequences. That is not exactly same as being in a jail.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It is the mental prison that I find impossible to break. It is easy to get out of the prison imposed by the others but when you create a barrier for yourself it is very difficult to break free. In your mental prison you are the prisoner, you are the prison guard, you are the judge and you are the jury. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Then there is an emotional prison. You know you should keep things in prospective. You know you should not get tangled up in emotions. You know what is right and what needs doing. Someone else will do things completely differently but after all said and done you still want and wish what you hope for. Deep inside you know that you can't let go and that jail won't let you be free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113944322216995912?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113944322216995912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113944322216995912&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113944322216995912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113944322216995912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/02/free.html' title='Free'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113934906097783527</id><published>2006-02-07T21:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-02-07T21:51:01.056Z</updated><title type='text'>Say Nothing</title><content type='html'>Isn’t it better to say nothing when you have nothing to say?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It is possible that you have so much to say that you just don’t know where to start it from and you say nothing. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It is also possible that saying anything is not going to make any difference to anything so it is better to say nothing.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It is also possible that whatever you are going to say has been said thousand times before so you say nothing.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It is also possible that all you want to say has been heard without saying so you say nothing.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It is also possible that whatever you say will be misinterpreted and misunderstood so you say nothing.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It is possible that all you said was just a waste and that despairs you so you say nothing.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It is possible that the blow you received has paralysed you and you can say nothing.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The truth is, any of these and all of these have been correct over the time and now you have learnt a lesson to say nothing.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;You say everything you want to say by saying nothing. Can you hear it?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113934906097783527?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113934906097783527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113934906097783527&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113934906097783527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113934906097783527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/02/say-nothing.html' title='Say Nothing'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113857497448118207</id><published>2006-01-29T22:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-01-29T22:49:39.943Z</updated><title type='text'>Conditioning</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;While passing the elephants, I suddenly stopped, confused by the fact that these huge creatures were being held by only a small rope tied to their front leg.No chains, no cages. It was obvious that the elephants could, at anytime, break away from their bonds but for some reason, they did not. I saw a trainer near by and asked why these beautiful, magnificent animals just stood there and made no attempt to get away."Well," he said, "when they are very young and much smaller we use the same size rope to tie them and, at that age, it's enough to hold them. As they grow up, they are conditioned to believe they cannot break away. They believe the rope can still hold them, so they never try to break free."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;When I read the story above I thought of my own beliefs, conditioning and habits. Sure the animals are just the victims of their teaching. They are not thinking of their chains and ropes in philosophical way but we humans can look at it in two ways.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;At many times we have made ourselves believe that we are unable to do something, perhaps because we tried it previously and failed at it. We convinced ourselves that we are not capable of doing it. We get so used to thinking that way that we don’t even notice that we have the other option to try it again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;"&gt;At also made me think that there are some bonds as light as the thin little rope on the elephant’s leg but we do not break them because we know the value of that tie. We associate ourselves with that bond and breaking those would make us lose our identity, our self respect, our world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113857497448118207?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113857497448118207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113857497448118207&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113857497448118207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113857497448118207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/01/conditioning.html' title='Conditioning'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113797786265889183</id><published>2006-01-23T00:57:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-01-24T22:48:58.616Z</updated><title type='text'>Jail</title><content type='html'>&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Emotional Jail&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bowing the head in some untold shame&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Each of my pores are oozing the pain&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt; My face is covered with a thick veil&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hell is the proper name for my jail&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sentenced to hell for being so lame&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Punished for emotions I couldn’t tame&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;There is no place for love in a game&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Push it back down from where it came&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I am sorry I have broken the chain&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Released the monster I am to blame&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The poisoned arrow missed the aim&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So you condemned me to this jail&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I can still hear you call my name&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That little laugh calling me insane&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wish you a life of riches and fame&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You stayed dry in my pouring rain&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I love burning in emotional flame &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tell me who is mad and who is sane&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113797786265889183?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113797786265889183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113797786265889183&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113797786265889183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113797786265889183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/01/jail.html' title='Jail'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113771138716804972</id><published>2006-01-19T22:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-01-19T22:56:27.240Z</updated><title type='text'>Being Open</title><content type='html'>Since I was a child I was encouraged to be open with expressing the feelings and emotions. Instead of having a face on like a swollen balloon if you say what the matter is then we can understand what you want – mum used to say when I sulked for something. Being emotional wasn’t seen as a flaw in my personality. It was accepted that I was sensitive and was moved easily. That didn’t mean I was weak or unreasonable.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;What has changed then? While some of my friends don’t see me as somebody abnormal why one has always made me feel inferior for opening my heart and mind? Being emotional and saying what I was feeling has not done me any good in that friendship. The way I look at it – if you can’t be the real person you are with a friend then that friendship is not true. If you have to hold back and curtail then you are pretending. If someone cannot handle that then that is their fault and not yours, but it doesn’t work like that, does it? Some how some people have got a knack of making you feel that everything is your fault. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Is being open and letting others see what you are feeling bad? Do people take advantage of the knowledge and do you lose out because of that? How do you make yourself emotionally tougher?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113771138716804972?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113771138716804972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113771138716804972&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113771138716804972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113771138716804972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/01/being-open.html' title='Being Open'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113693899388415435</id><published>2006-01-11T00:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-01-11T00:23:13.943Z</updated><title type='text'>Bungalow news</title><content type='html'>For the mates following the bungalow saga….&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I should have known. As usual nothing goes right for me in the first go. We have come across some stumbling blocks over the survey report. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;As couple of items were “worth investigating” from the survey report, I took the builders round to check things out. Their forecast was some more expense in the very near future. As the place is expensive enough in the first place there is not way I am forking out more for repairs as soon as I move in.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The seller, Uncle Fester look alike – from Adam’s Family – is digging his silly little heels that he won’t pay for the work to be done.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;So it seems for the moment that the deal is off and I am £1200 lighter for all my sins.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Was the New Year supposed to bring me luck? I don’t think so.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It has only been 9 days and I have lost a few things already! Then again you can’t lose something that you never had anyway…………&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Unless of course Uncle Fester comes to his senses in the next few days before I go off that bungalow altogether.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113693899388415435?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113693899388415435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113693899388415435&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113693899388415435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113693899388415435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/01/bungalow-news.html' title='Bungalow news'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113675515803724522</id><published>2006-01-08T21:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-01-08T21:19:18.090Z</updated><title type='text'>Set it free</title><content type='html'>If you love something set it free&lt;br/&gt;If it doesn’t come back it was never yours&lt;br/&gt;If it returns it is yours forever&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; --------&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Doug Horton&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;So you are confident on your love. It can never get it better anywhere else. Let it fly away and find out for itself. It will soon learn its lesson and return back to you.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Mind you by the time it comes back you could have got over it and wouldn’t want it back anyway. I know&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I know you loved it in the first place and love is supposed to last forever. Ok, the love may still be there but the desire can die and the longing to be together can subside. The fun and laugh that had changed to sadness and depression by its implied rejection of you by wondering off is not significant to damage you? Should it be that easy to accept it when it returns as if nothing has changed? Some how I don’t think so.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;In theory Doug Horton’s idea is an example of true love and confidence. It would work if you have accepted the other person’s weakness and lesser love for you. By allowing them to find their own way back you might get their total love back but what if you are not as strong and generous as to accept a second place? After all if they had found someone better would they have come back?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113675515803724522?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113675515803724522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113675515803724522&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113675515803724522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113675515803724522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/01/set-it-free.html' title='Set it free'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113633456616937352</id><published>2006-01-04T00:29:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-01-04T00:29:26.233Z</updated><title type='text'>Rubber Bands</title><content type='html'>Relationships are like rubber bands. When it is the right size, right texture, right elasticity it holds love, affection, emotions, care, desires, journey, destination, bond, sacrifice and all those other things together. You can stretch the rubber band to its full capacity and fill in everything you want. But when you over stretch it then sooner or later it will break. When that band is broken everything it was holding together just scatters around. They mean nothing without that rubber band that was holding them. May be I am wrong. Those scattered things perhaps do mean something here and there but is not much useful without that full package that was holding them and connecting them with one another. How can you stop the rubber band to snap? How can you stop a relationship to break? How can you stop being over stretched? Should you accept less in that package in the first place so you keep it safe? That may mean that you are letting go some important thing from that package which could have been included. Should be a risk taker and try to fill in everything you can. You could enjoy the best things not many can but then be prepared for the outcome that you may have nothing left. It is hard to accept that you have nothing left and had you not been greedy then you would have had a package – may be a smaller one but a package nevertheless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113633456616937352?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113633456616937352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113633456616937352&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113633456616937352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113633456616937352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2006/01/rubber-bands.html' title='Rubber Bands'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113607362655078744</id><published>2005-12-31T23:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-01-01T00:00:26.560Z</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY NEW YEAR</title><content type='html'>To everyone. Every year I wish that the new year brings in health, happiness and love. This year I will add a little bit of wealth and a lot of peace of mind to the wish list. None of the others have worked the previous year so no harm in asking for a few more!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113607362655078744?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113607362655078744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113607362655078744&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113607362655078744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113607362655078744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2005/12/happy-new-year.html' title='HAPPY NEW YEAR'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113589511478401626</id><published>2005-12-29T22:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-12-29T22:25:14.836Z</updated><title type='text'>Shoe Sale</title><content type='html'>Girlie friend No.1 heard that a new shoe store has opened in the next town and they have sales on – as they would, on Boxing Day - like fifty thousand other shoe stores in the area.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Us, women have this bargain hunting instincts bred in us from somewhere. Some of us just can’t help it. As soon as we see the “reduced” signs the “purchase devil” takes over us. Whether we need the item concerned or not is not a question. We can always find a use for things. One never knows, one might needs it desperately one day and not be able to find it so might as well buy it while it is going cheap! &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;We run around like a possessed animal until those crispy notes walk out of our little mauve or any other cute indescribable coloured purse. To make us feel less guilty now a days we don’t carry crispy notes. We use credit or debit cards. These cards don’t feel like money. When you spend using those cards you don’t feel much guilty because you don’t see the money parting from your possession.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;All though I have umpteen pairs of shoes and I was sure before I went to the shop that I wasn’t going to buy any GF 1 says “just try them, no harm in trying! I thought her argument was valid. We started trying a few pairs.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I said I don’t have any boots so I will try some boots. Off she went and picked out these boots in lovely brown leather (not cute chocolate or aubergine colour just standard brown colour – my reasoning power was still active at that point). &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The boots had some fur attached and some strips of leather going around it in trainer lace kind of pattern but on the leg rather than the foot. She couldn’t find size five and a half so got size 5. I tried to put my foot in it but it was tight. GF 1 by now getting impatient that I was not trying hard enough. Some how I managed to fit the foot into the boot – after all that is my size! but my feet swell up and so I buy 5 ½. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;By now after trying several shoes and walking around in the shop my feet must have swollen up. I tried to take the boot off but it was kind of super glued to my foot. GF 1 says she will hold the boot and I should wiggle out of it. It was the same foot that had twisted ankle a little while ago and it still hurts if I bend the foot to the sides. I couldn’t wiggle out. She held my boot and started pulling it out. She has had my leg up in 90 degree causing me to slouch on my back on the large sitting stools. By now I was having a fit of giggles which in turn making her giggle. She kept instructing me to push push and pull pull as if she was a mid-wife. In the end the boot came off forcing her to go backward on to the wall nearly knocking all the shoes of the shelves.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I ended up buying two other pairs of shoes, not only because they were reduced from £45 to just £5 each but also to compensate for the disruption to the store!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113589511478401626?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113589511478401626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113589511478401626&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113589511478401626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113589511478401626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2005/12/shoe-sale.html' title='Shoe Sale'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113581803377567210</id><published>2005-12-29T01:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-12-29T01:00:33.853Z</updated><title type='text'>Stove-slave</title><content type='html'>I have cooked for reasonably big numbers in my time. I don’t think I am a bad cook. Almost every other week-end I used to invite friends round for a mini party/get together. We used to meet up at my place, drink, cook and eat together. Then it all slowed down. Even normal day to day cooking was not accepted as normal food. I got myself busy with two, three jobs and lost interest in cooking. Can’t say I was interested in cooking as a hobby but cooking for people who enjoyed it was enough to make me want to cook. Now things are better and my food is being appreciated but I haven’t slotted myself in gear yet. Not having enough time to do everything doesn’t help either.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;To take the easy option for Christmas and having less than two people to feed a full turkey wasn’t an option so I bought a 6” ready done piece of turkey from Marks &amp; Spencer. By not eating on time it went more like a rat than a turkey. On top of that I was adamant that it will be eaten since it wasn’t my fault that it turned into a rat. By now I was so much under the influence of red wine that I tried to make instant gravy out of stock powder and couldn't understand why it wouldn't thicken!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Shall we leave the rest of the story now that you have got the jest of it? &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I think I should stay away from this lovely phrase in this instant.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Bringing up the word “stove-slave” in Christmas conversation might bring the memory of the rat shaped turkey and salty liquid for the gravy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113581803377567210?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113581803377567210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113581803377567210&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113581803377567210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113581803377567210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2005/12/stove-slave.html' title='Stove-slave'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113563236313736200</id><published>2005-12-26T21:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-12-26T21:26:03.206Z</updated><title type='text'>Perfect Christmas Day?</title><content type='html'>&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;How was your Christmas? If you were hoping for a white Christmas then you got disappointed, unless of course thick white frost on the cars and on the grass first thing in the morning counts!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When I finished work at lunch time on Christmas Eve I was very relaxed. Even took up an invitation for the evening dinner which went really good. After coming back home at 10 pm my Christmas Eve night went all pear shaped. The same miserable mood continued through the Christmas morning.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;A surprised phone call changed it all and I started to feel the festive spirit coming on. It does make me very mad that my happiness and sadness so much depend on other people! I would love to change that control back to myself but to be happy by yourself you have to be content and peaceful, don’t you?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;What would be your perfect Christmas day someone asked? I said something like “Traditional lunch with family, afternoon walk with the dog, evening drinks with friends and a cosy night in front of the fire with someone special”.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Well two out of four isn’t that bad, is it?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;One of these two was possible because of you – my lovely friends – so my sincere thanks you.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113563236313736200?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113563236313736200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113563236313736200&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113563236313736200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113563236313736200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2005/12/perfect-christmas-day.html' title='Perfect Christmas Day?'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113547061799221021</id><published>2005-12-24T23:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-12-25T00:30:18.040Z</updated><title type='text'>MERRY CHRISTMAS</title><content type='html'>To every one who may be here and who may not be here. It feels so strange tonight talking to every one but no one. Let’s admit it. There is no one actually there at the end of your blog but there is a possibility that the whole world could be reading it.&lt;br /&gt;Therefore I have my strange feeling that by not talking to anyone I am talking to everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why just tonight, it should be any time. A blog is what ever one believes it to be. Just some writing, typing words on the keyboard and reading them on the monitor, a secret diary, saying aloud your thoughts, spreading your views,  educating others,  enlightening others, communicating to others or to me it is like a friend. It is like a therapist. Perhaps it is communicating to my own self. I said it feels strange tonight because I know I should not have this sad sinking feeling in me. The day has gone good. The evening has past pleasantly. Then why am I still sad?  One reason I could say is it’s because I am feeling lonely. I could probably cure that by being in a company but that won’t take away my sadness. I could spend all the time in pleasant company but at the end of the day when I free from everything I have to be with myself. Myself won’t let me feel happy and content. My own self knows the truth. No matter how much I try to fool myself, it sees through me and haunts me when I am alone. It tells me that I am lonely – everyday- but some days it seems more unfair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113547061799221021?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113547061799221021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113547061799221021&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113547061799221021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113547061799221021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2005/12/merry-christmas.html' title='MERRY CHRISTMAS'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113485841255077015</id><published>2005-12-17T22:26:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-12-17T22:33:21.260Z</updated><title type='text'>Necklace made of Stars</title><content type='html'>Thank you some of my bloggy mates for sticking around even though I haven’t been making enough efforts to blog something sensible, interesting or even worth reading.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Yes we are back in that feeling empty, feeling sad, feeling angry on ourselves for feeling sad, wanting things that we can’t have mood. It could be that too many things to do, not getting any where near doing them, wasting time on useless things, lack of sleep and tiredness is bringing the demons that tug onto my feet very hard to drag me down. I am kicking them hard to get push them back in the hole them came out from.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Do we sometimes want something very badly knowing that we are not going to get it? So when there is a slight chance of getting a little bit it, we get panicked of losing that desire of wanting it badly? It is also possible that when we are near to getting some of it, the truth that we will not get it completely makes us sad?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It is similar to when I was three or four years old. At the end of the hot sunny day, after supper at night we used to sit on the outside veranda in almost dark. With my head in Grandma’s lap pestering her to tell me a story or sing me a song and with her telling me to watch the stars in the sky instead I used to fall asleep. On waking up I used to harass Grandma to bring them home so I can play with them. I wanted the stars so much because they were shiny and pretty.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;When I got, as my birthday gift, a necklace made of shiny white sparkling stones in the shape of stars as a child I was very excited. After that I didn’t ask for the stars again, not because I thought I had a few of them but because I realised that I can’t have them completely – I can only have little bits of them.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;My habit of wanting the things I can’t have has still not left me. I still haven’t learnt that things are not always same as what you imagine them to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113485841255077015?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113485841255077015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113485841255077015&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113485841255077015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113485841255077015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2005/12/necklace-made-of-stars.html' title='Necklace made of Stars'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113442906646932001</id><published>2005-12-12T23:04:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-12-12T23:11:06.483Z</updated><title type='text'>Office Parties</title><content type='html'>Came across some hilarious advice for the office parties. Please follow the rules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Employees:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep one hand free during the evening so that you can shake hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep your drink in the left hand so you are not offering a wet, cold handshake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t bring the party lampshade or gag gifts for the boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do keep your hands to yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do not use the furniture to dance on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Use a stepladder to put up decorations – not a swivel chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t make a pig of yourself just because the food and drink is free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t monopolize conversation but don’t be the office bore either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Office party is not a good place for bragging about your achievements, correcting and ridiculing colleagues or blowing off steam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t wear your clubbing attire to the office party. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember – Office party is not a singles bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t flirt even innocently. Jim from Accounts will look different in day light and when sober.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t let your guard down in case you give your secrets away.&lt;br /&gt;************************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Employers:&lt;br /&gt;Think carefully before you rush to book the entertainment like Bernard Manning or a strip-0-gram for your party. When Bernard Manning performed for one company, the host hotel was deemed liable for the offence caused to Afro-Caribbean waitresses by Manning's racist jokes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be careful if you intend to provide a free bar. Whitbred Brewery was taken to tribunal after dismissing three employees who got drunk and had a fight after a seminar on improving behavioural skills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make it clear that photocopying body parts will not be tolerated neither will be carrying a mistletoe through out the entire evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avoid staff performance reviews and bonuses at the office party so that the employees don’t misunderstand that they were offered higher salary in the spirit of the festivities.&lt;br /&gt;***********************************************************************************                                                 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am now fully equipped for an office party! As an employee as well as an employer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113442906646932001?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113442906646932001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113442906646932001&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113442906646932001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113442906646932001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2005/12/office-parties.html' title='Office Parties'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113400046896034618</id><published>2005-12-08T00:07:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-12-08T00:07:49.000Z</updated><title type='text'>Pre Christmas Time</title><content type='html'>Busy time………………must do everything before&lt;br/&gt;Working flat out time…..End of the year&lt;br/&gt;Stressful time…………..Queues and rushing&lt;br/&gt;Getting rich time……….if selling&lt;br/&gt;Getting poor time………when buying&lt;br/&gt;Friendly time…………...Remember everyone once a year&lt;br/&gt;Loving time…………….Being close time&lt;br/&gt;Sulking time……………Looks like you wont get the present you wanted&lt;br/&gt;Falling out time…………arguments after emotional change&lt;br/&gt;Meeting time……………Family and friends&lt;br/&gt;Drinking time…………...One for the road&lt;br/&gt;Eating time…………….. Any excuse going out&lt;br/&gt;Party time……………….How many in total&lt;br/&gt;Dog Club Disco time……No dogs and no disco but still a good event&lt;br/&gt;Blogging time……………very little !!!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113400046896034618?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113400046896034618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113400046896034618&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113400046896034618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113400046896034618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2005/12/pre-christmas-time.html' title='Pre Christmas Time'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113364108708529968</id><published>2005-12-03T20:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-12-03T20:18:07.096Z</updated><title type='text'>Hallucination simulator</title><content type='html'>Once I was advised never to try to recreate in my own mind the symptoms of auditory or visual hallucination a mentally ill person could be experiencing- no matter how much you want to understand and help them with what they are suffering from. Perhaps the advisor knew I was a Piscean and I empathise with the suffering and feelings of the people I am involved with so too much of it could be detrimental to me. May be the reason was some psychological point. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.kamloopsthisweek.com/portals-code/list.cgi?paper=15&amp;cat=23&amp;id=547074&amp;more="&gt;This article&lt;/a&gt; tells us about a simulator that does just that for Schizophrenia. I think more of these kinds of examples and experiments should take place so that people in general can realise the trauma faced by the patients in undertaking simple normal tasks which are day to day activities for other people. Perhaps knowing how the ill people feel will make the well people be more considerate and accommodating with them. May be some of the well people will stop using, abusing, ridiculing and demeaning the mentally ill people. May be the ill people will be treated as important humans rather than shut behind closed doors. May be the carers of such ill people will be valued for their care instead of being excluded from fun and enjoyment other people take for granted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113364108708529968?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113364108708529968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113364108708529968&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113364108708529968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113364108708529968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2005/12/hallucination-simulator.html' title='Hallucination simulator'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113356094801781775</id><published>2005-12-02T22:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-12-02T22:02:28.076Z</updated><title type='text'>White Van drivers</title><content type='html'>It seems like a long time since I last posted. Christmas pressure has started to build up. Last week has been really manic with everything going wrong because I have been juggling too many things at the same time and not being able to pay full attention to any of them. I was so pushed and stressed at one time that I made a mistake and lost a large sum of money.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I managed to get the money back within minutes but that is not the point. Making the mistake for any reason is not an excuse. I am determined not to let things get me stressed up again when my mind gets too clouded.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;This morning driving to work on a not so wide road with cars parked on both sides we were all queuing up behind a bus taking passengers on board. There was not much point in overtaking the bus because of the oncoming traffic. A white van over took two cars from behind me, went in front of the bus. Then the white van driver let the bus go forward and chased the bus, got in front of it and made it stop. He came out and hurled abuse to the bus driver. We all saw that he was out for making trouble but we all sat in our cars and just watched it without trying to help the bus driver. He then drove off. Unfortunately the van was obscure by the bus so I couldn’t take the registration number.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;What a coincident that in the evening I had two white van drivers having a tussle with each other and putting other road users in danger. If they want to kill themselves then fine. Go ahead and do it but why subject other road users to their bad tempers?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I didn’t agree when the white van drivers were being stereotyped for their aggressive driving but now I am not surprised why they were.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Oh well tomorrow is another day. I will try to keep cool as long as the whole world doesn’t go out to wind me up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113356094801781775?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113356094801781775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113356094801781775&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113356094801781775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113356094801781775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2005/12/white-van-drivers.html' title='White Van drivers'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113339472235380931</id><published>2005-11-30T23:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-11-30T23:52:02.370Z</updated><title type='text'>Stress - tongue in cheek</title><content type='html'>HOW TO STAY STRESSED&lt;br /&gt;The following provides you with a few reasons why...&lt;br /&gt;STRESS HELPS YOU SEEM IMPORTANT. &lt;br /&gt;Anyone as stressed as you must be working very hard and, therefore, is probably doing something very crucial. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IT HELPS YOU TO MAINTAIN PERSONAL DISTANCE AND AVOID INTIMACY.&lt;br /&gt;Anyone as busy as you are certainly can't be expected to form emotional attachments to anyone. And let's face it; you're not much fun to be around anyway. &lt;br /&gt;IT HELPS YOU AVOID RESPONSIBILITIES. &lt;br /&gt;Obviously you're too stressed to be given any more work. This gets you off the hook for all the mundane chores; let someone else take care of them. &lt;br /&gt;IT GIVES YOU A CHEMICAL RUSH. &lt;br /&gt;Stress might be considered a cheap thrill, and you can give yourself a "hit" anytime you choose. But be careful, you might get addicted to your own adrenaline. &lt;br /&gt;IT HELPS YOU AVOID SUCCESS.&lt;br /&gt;Why risk being "successful" when by simply staying stressed you can avoid all of that? Stress can keep your performance level low enough that success won't ever be a threat. &lt;br /&gt;STRESS ALSO LETS YOU KEEP YOUR AUTHORITARIAN MANAGEMENT STYLE.&lt;br /&gt;The authoritarian style of "Just do what I say!" is generally permissible under crisis conditions. If you maintain a permanently stressed crisis atmosphere, you can justify an authoritarian style all the time. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Are you worried now about how to stay stressed? You'll have no trouble if you practice the following clinically proven methods:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;NEVER EXERCISE.&lt;br /&gt;Exercise wastes a lot of time that could be spent worrying. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;EAT ANYTHING YOU WANT.&lt;br /&gt;Hey, if cigarette smoke can't cleanse your system, a balanced diet isn't likely to. &lt;br /&gt;GAIN WEIGHT.&lt;br /&gt;Work hard at staying at least 25 pounds over your recommended weight. &lt;br /&gt;TAKE PLENTY OF STIMULANTS.&lt;br /&gt;The old standards of caffeine, nicotine, sugar, and cola will continue to do the job just fine. &lt;br /&gt;AVOID "WOO-WOO" PRACTICES. &lt;br /&gt;Ignore the evidence suggesting that meditation, yoga, deep breathing, and/or mental imaging help to reduce stress. The Protestant work ethic is good for everyone, Protestant or not. &lt;br /&gt;GET RID OF YOUR SOCIAL SUPPORT SYSTEM.&lt;br /&gt;Let the few friends who are willing to tolerate you know that concern yourself with friendships only if you have time, and you never have time. If a few people persist in trying to be your friend, avoid them. &lt;br /&gt;PERSONALIZE ALL CRITICISM.&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who criticizes any aspect of your work, family, dog, house, or car is mounting a personal attack. Don't take time to listen, be offended, then return the attack! &lt;br /&gt;THROW OUT YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR. &lt;br /&gt;Staying stressed is no laughing matter, and it shouldn't be treated as one. &lt;br /&gt;MALES AND FEMALES ALIKE - BE MACHO. &lt;br /&gt;Never ever ask for help, and if you want it done right, do it yourself! &lt;br /&gt;BECOME A WORKAHOLIC.&lt;br /&gt;Put work before everything else, and be sure to take work home evenings and weekends. Keep reminding yourself that vacations are for sissies. &lt;br /&gt;DISCARD GOOD TIME MANAGEMENT SKILLS. &lt;br /&gt;Schedule in more activities every day than you can possibly get done and then worry about it all whenever you get a chance. &lt;br /&gt;PROCRASTINATE. &lt;br /&gt;Putting things off to the last second always produces a marvellous amount of stress. &lt;br /&gt;WORRY ABOUT THINGS YOU CAN'T CONTROL.&lt;br /&gt;Worry about the stock market, earthquakes, the approaching Ice Age, you know, all the big issues. &lt;br /&gt;BECOME NOT ONLY A PERFECTIONIST BUT SET IMPOSSIBLY HIGH STANDARDS.&lt;br /&gt;...and either beat yourself up, or feel guilty, depressed, discouraged, and/or inadequate when you don't meet them." &lt;br /&gt;...and there you have it! Sure fire ways to stay nice and stressed out for years to come!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Just say "YES!" to stress!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113339472235380931?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113339472235380931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113339472235380931&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113339472235380931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113339472235380931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2005/11/stress-tongue-in-cheek.html' title='Stress - tongue in cheek'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7886774.post-113286573530324229</id><published>2005-11-24T20:54:00.000Z</published><updated>2005-11-24T20:55:35.316Z</updated><title type='text'>Ankle</title><content type='html'>I have spent a horrendous day at work today. With my key worker off I had to make do with the Goby one. She has a heart of gold but the voice of a tin pot. If A. E. Bell was alive today he will revoke the copyright of inventing the telephone. Who needs a telephone with the voice like that? I am sure she can speak to her sister in New Zealand without any cost of a phone call. As the day goes by the volume increases nearly reaching 80 decibels or that’s how it feels. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been to the mortgage lender in lunch time but my ears were still ringing and my mind so unsure about leaving her alone to hold the fort that I couldn’t keep my concentration at the figures presented. When I returned the afternoon was equally stressful. I had not had any breakfast, lunch or my usual caffeine intake and I was very irritable when I finished. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While putting the food to cook and walking the dog round the block I remembered that I must put the rubbish out for the morning collection. I had my coat and gloves still on so I picked up the bin bag from the kitchen and started going down to the yard. Of course the dog had to be in front of me as going to yard means getting out again. As I wobbled down the concrete steps the sensor light went off. I was so clumsy with the coat, gloves, the bin bag, my hair hanging on my face and the dog under my feet that in the dark I missed the last step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got my ankle twisted and came out in sweat with the pain. I managed to come back up and like a sissy cried because of the pain, the annoyance and the frustration.  I was all right once I got my build up out and eat some food but the Sickie who joined me in crying wouldn’t stop! I can’t even feel sorry for myself without worrying about him over reacting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I am sat here with my leg up the computer desk with the ice pack on it and feeling cold. I hope it is not too bad as there is no way I can afford to be immobile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7886774-113286573530324229?l=butterflyuk.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/feeds/113286573530324229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7886774&amp;postID=113286573530324229&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113286573530324229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7886774/posts/default/113286573530324229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://butterflyuk.blogspot.com/2005/11/ankle.html' title='Ankle'/><author><name>butterflyuk</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11202679326753881502</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
