Nutty about games!

It seems like yesterday that I lost my two gorgeous Grandmas’, but it has been 10 years now. I can’t quite believe it, nor can I truly believe that they have gone. 

On the 10th March 1998 in the morning I received a heartbreaking phone call from my Dad telling me that my Grandma had died. I instantly knew he meant his Mum, Dorothy. I was at university at the time and took the news badly. Later that evening I received another phonecall from Dad, who told me that my other Grandma, Violet, had also died. For their deaths to be on the same day, though they never spoke and lived miles away from each other, was just too tragic for words.

Grandma Beesley was 70; she had died instantly of a heart attack. Grandma Taylor was a mere 62 years old and she died of pneumonia, having spent her final few years lying in bed too scared and too depressed to get up.

Grandma ‘Violet’ Taylor 

(My sister Jo on the left, I am on the right)

Although I didn’t see much of Grandma Taylor she was a character and I loved her to bits. She really reminded me of Mum in so many ways, and seemed such a delicate soul. She was an agoraphobia sufferer, which was to eventually cut her life short. The family moved to Wigan when I was a baby and I only wish that they hadn’t - I don’t think she would have been so depressed had she had two very stubborn granddaughters to keep her in check! I would have liked to have known her better.

Grandma ‘Dorothy’ Beesley 

(With my Dad in the 70s)

If anyone mentioned ‘your Grandma’ I would instantly think of Grandma Beesley. She lived very close and we saw her often, although again she also did not like to leave the house in her later years. I don’t think she liked being ‘old’. 

Grandma was very young minded and would give anything a whirl (as long as it didn’t mean leaving the house). She had a strong personality and fiery temper, and wasn’t particularly well behaved in her younger days from what I gather! I am a lot like her in many ways! I miss her terribly, although I am thankful that I have good memories of her.

When I was younger we used to go round to her house and pinch cat biscuits from her larder; I still love them although I don’t make a habit of eating them these days! She would have a party at Christmas and I have the most wonderful memories of these; all the kids together causing havoc whilst the adults nattered in the lounge. We used to hide under the kitchen table and pretend to be mice; and got in trouble for eating all the crabsticks. The game ‘Murder in the Dark’ was just the best! 

When I worked at the Manor Barn pub I would go to see her after a lunchtime shift, and she would always tell me off for having ‘wet hair’ when it was only cold from being outside, and smothered in hair products! When I said that I wanted to dye my hair brown again (it was blonde at the time) she would go mad. She will probably be having a go at my brown hair now, wherever she is!

I’ll never stop missing her; I only wish that the last time I visited home from university I had gone to see her. I left uni soon after losing her, I don’t think I will ever get over it. I suppose because it was the first real bereavement I had, not remembering my Grandad who died when I was 5.

Apologies for the sad post, but this anniversary reminds me not only of how long it has been since I last saw them, but also how long it may be before I ever see them again.

Well, just a rather short blog post today, as we had the news this morning that our eldest son didn’t get into his first choice of school. It was an out-of-catchment West Berkshire school, but it seems that the ‘Beesley luck’ (or lack of it) has struck again as he is the only child in the past 3 years with a first choice application not to get a place at the school.

I will call and appeal today, and ask for him to be placed on the waiting list.

Also doesn’t bode well for our Reading school applications, as there is likely to be a higher intake this year. We find out on the 28th March, and I can tell you there will be many sleepless nights for me until then!

Why can’t we just emigrate or something?

Someone, somewhere…is against me writing anything. I’m sure of it! I believe a rant is in order!

I remember back to Nanowrimo time, when I was all prepared to write and began on the 1st November with gusto, steaming along at a rate of 2000-2500 words a night, which is a good pace for me. I enjoyed it so much; it was far from a chore and my imagination was buzzing along at a rate of knots.

Monday November 4th hit and with it came the fireworks, starting at 7pm and lasting until 1am.  This happened every night up until the end of the weekend, with some fireworks going off literally on our doorstep. It wasn’t that they were just disturbing me, but that they were waking the boys multiple times during the period I had designated for writing. By the end of that week I was at least 12k words down.

Just as I thought I may catch up a little, flu struck. Now, normally when people say they had flu, they did not - heavy cold, sniffles, whatever, not flu. I started out feeling a little rough, lying on the sofa with a mild fever and a sore throat. Within a few hours I was shivering and shaking and aching, veering between boiling hot and freezing cold, with raging fever of 40 degrees, feeling like I was dying. I still had to look after the children so I got off the sofa just to get them some food and then sat straight back down again afterwards. By the weekend, when I was allowed 3hrs in bed by Steve, I was pretty much delirious and kept having horrible nightmares. I couldn’t eat a single thing for 5 days, and lost a lot of weight, and it took me at least 2 weeks until I started feeling myself again. Worst illness ever!

Then - of course - just as my fever started to go down the boys got ill, and my goodness were they poorly. It was dreadful. Then Steve got it and after he struggled through work for a couple of days he spent a whole weekend in bed and I had to take care of him and the children despite not being too well myself.

So - around 3 weeks of Nano vanished without a trace! I did manage to catch up a little at the end but it just wasn’t to be and I failed, again.

Of course writing isn’t just for Nano time, so I wasn’t going to give up that easily - until the laptop broke.

Now, I do have a PC - but have you ever tried writing while sat next to a man with a voice like a foghorn who is either (a) playing Battlefield 2142 and yelling into ventrilo, (b) listening to extremely loud music whilst raiding in World of Warcraft or (c) moaning about me writing and ignoring him, and interrupting my thought every few minutes with comments and phone calls?

I imagine that to be a no. So for now my writing is at an end, except on those rare occasions he is out of the house. Handwriting is also no-no, as these days I can barely read it myself thanks to never really having the need to write!

I would love to write, really I would, instead of jotting down endless thoughts and ideas that never see the light of day - but I can’t ever see it happening. Perhaps when I retire, eh?

As it is nearing the 10th anniversary of the death of my gaming Grandma, Dorothy ‘Dot’ Beesley, I have decided a little retrogaming is in order in her memory.

Grandma loved her games, and was a big fan of the ZX Spectrum from the late 80s right up until her death. She even got the Spectrum before us, and once I had seen the games she could play I was hooked!

We never ran out of games because Grandma would copy them for us, and we would never get stuck on a game for long with her countless gaming tips, and ‘pokes’ (cheats) when it all got too difficult!

I feel sad that she could not stay with us for longer as I am sure she would have loved the games of today, and also been an avid fan of the internet, especially enjoying sites like YouTube. I think she would have played an MMORPG with me for sure! Who knows, maybe Battlefield 2142 would have been her cup of tea!

Anyway, more about the games.

 Dizzy Series


Dizzy was one of my fave games ever, and I never managed to finish the early ones - but I believe Grandma finished them all! I remember her talking a lot about Treasure Island Dizzy and I believe she found every last coin too. So, first order of the day is a proper go at a number of episodes from the Dizzy series - although these days I am glad there is a save function as I don’t have the patience to complete them without it!

Slightly Magic


I loved this game but every time I got near to the end I would die horribly. I used to cry and scream at the damn annoying thing! It was a very short game but you had one life, and if you made a single mistake that was it, game over. Cue Grandma to the rescue! Although I wanted to complete this one legitimately it wasn’t to be, so Grandma found me a poke and I got to see the ending. Hooray Grandma!

Bubble Bobble and Bubble Dizzy


I have to admit that after 20 years or so I can no longer remember which of these Grandma played or liked the best, but I suspect it was both. I never got into it either of them, but I am going to have a go anyway.

Chuckie Egg


Oh, what a game, I loved it! I never did finish it but I got pretty close; not bad for a kid sharing with an obsessed Dad and younger sister!

Werewolves of London


Looking back at this game I see it wasn’t actually all that exciting. I only think I enjoyed it because you could eat people! I think they should make a modern game with a werewolf going round biting people’s head off - it would be awesome!

There are more that she used to play such as Repton and Saracen, but I will stick to these few. I don’t know how long my limited attention span can cope with such classics…

Last night I logged into BF2142 with my other half Steve, and had rather a lot of fun!  We played on Northern Strike servers, large and small. One titan server was tiny but most enjoyable - shooting Steve’s char in the face with my Clark shotgun a few times was quite theraputic after the day I’d had! Was awarded a Gold Star for coming top; only out of 5 people but it didn’t matter to me, I was waaaaay ahead on points to boot. Unlocked frag grenades at last too! Of course Steve played great as usual and was awarded a number of badges and pins. We both especially enjoyed driving around in the Goliath - a great way to gain points and rack up a few kills too (especially as a support character reloading it).

Now, I am not great at this game - far from it (check out my rubbish stats), but it really doesn’t matter to me. I have played far too many RPGs in the last six years to be as hot as most people with a rifle. Many point out my kill/death ratio and laugh, but I’m not that intent on killing people in this game. I much prefer to run around with my ammo hub! I have now found that if I join a squad and follow them with my hub out I gain more points than if I try to kill people. Of course Titan defense is now great with my Clark shotgun, as I can just hang around waiting for them to drop in, holding my shotgun with my turret aimed on them - great fun!

If you’re not sure what I am talking about as you do not have this game I recommend you try it - it can be bought for a tenner now at Game and the Northern Strike expansion pack is about a fiver (you can get these even cheaper ifyou shop around online). It costs nothing to play online and there are countless servers for you to choose from with full-on action; well worth the money. Try reading the reviews here and here. As long as you are playing with friends you will likely never get bored of this game; I often try to avoid playing as it is so addictive!

If you log on to the game look out for Melindi or Bymz0r and we will show you the ropes. Well, I will probably show you how to play very badly…but I’ll try my best anyway! We could always have a laugh on Ventrilo whatever happens, especially when I have been on the vino!

Not all bad, but not the best of days so far…

Firstly I have to point out that this is the second time I have written this post. For the first time ever I did not select all then copy the text before I hit save as I always do when writing anything, and this is the first time ever that Wordpress did not save my post despite me hitting ‘Save and Continue Editing’. Nor did it save my page automatically. This really sucks. Really it does. Instead I got a blank page and the post I had previously spent half an hour writing had vanished. Honest.

Anyway, I digress. This morning I awoke at a decent hour (i.e. after 7am) to find a lovely card and some very expensive alcoholic choccies waiting for me. I am supposed to be dieting but I have a real penchant for chocolate - none is safe from me in this house - so it was a nice pressie nonetheless.

I then proceeded to make breakfast and do some washing up, and started to blitz the lounge at about 10am before the shopping was due to arrive at around 11am, whilst Steve was doing a spot of gaming. Tesco arrived a little early and I left the boys in the computer room with Steve while I created a huge mountain of bags into the lounge, ready to take through to the kitchen at the back.

Thinking I may get some help carting said bags into the kitchen and perhaps even some help putting it away - it is Mother’s Day after all - I began the task alone and soon found myself surrounded by little boys screaming for ’snacks’ and fighting, emptying food all over the floor; something they always do when the shopping arrives. I looked up to see Steve vanishing upstairs offering to put my phone on charge - it is now after 3pm and he still hasn’t come back down again.

It took me just over an hour to put all the shopping away, then I gave the boys a snack and finished tidying the lounge. I made soup for lunch, but the boys decide that it is far too much fun to keep the soup in a bowl, and instead spread it all over the table, floor and themselves.

I cleaned this all up but was dismayed to hear Nicholas’s shouts of “Gabe’s got poo everywhere” and find that is indeed the case. Gabriel decided that he would yet again delve into his nappy and pull out the contents, and had placed a few ‘malteasers’ in his weeble campervan, and squished the rest into the carpet with his feet. Nicholas also had poo on his jeans and feet. Such is my day so far.

My Mum has had a better day, thankfully; cards from us and the boys, and flowers with a vase that we sent via Interflora. As an extra bit of luck she also received another lovely bunch of flowers, again with a card from us, possibly by mistake but we are not complaining! Here is a piccy of them:

I don’t usually pass on Mother’s Day texts, but one I received was particularly helpful when having a bad day and feeling very neglected:

Motherhood’s a tough 24-hour job. No pay, no days off, often most unappreciated and yet resignation is impossible! So send this to anyone who’s a TERRIFIC Mum and let her know she’s wonderful.

Loving this song right now too - today is a Keane day.

Now to make dinner…

With my other half having recently published some not-so-hot photos of me online for all to see - much to my displeasure - my old self-image issue has once again reared it’s ugly head and I am not feeling so good about myself any more.

For many reasons I have always tried to keep myself looking as attractive as possible, and on occasion despise any photos of myself that do not look like ‘me’ - the way I see myself when I look in the mirror. Of course none of us look like we think we do in the mirror, I just don’t need that fact shoved in my face!

My Mum has always told me to keep myself looking nice; as slim as possible, clean, daily makeup, keep my hair looking nice. In our family we have always had a thing about ‘bad photos’ and from an early age I remember my Mum running away from the camera and even crying over photos of herself that she did not like.

At school there was always someone waiting with a nasty comment; be it about something as minor as a mole on my face, the fact that I had a slight lisp, my hair wasn’t fashionable, breasts too small and bottom too big, etc, and I became quite obsessed with my appearance. Between the ages of 15 and 18 I refused to wear trousers, for example, thinking my bottom too big to carry them off!

I also went through periods of extreme dieting, often eating only fruit during the day, and at one point I would only eat a packet of sweets (broken up into sections for each meal). Starvation, laxatives, purging - I tried them all. Never worked of course, as once I started eating again I would pile on the pounds!

I guess I am trying to explain why I behave this way at times.

Falling pregnant was quite cruel in a way. I had just decided to accept my body for the way it was. I went out and bought a size 8 bikini and a nice sarong, and sunbathed on the beach for the first time since I was a young teenager. One month later I got a positive pregnancy test, and immediately my body began to change.

At first I found it quite liberating. I could eat more than usual and didn’t mind the extra pounds, really enjoyed my growing ’bump’. I even dyed my hair back to brown as I no longer felt the need to stand out. Then of course the dreaded stretchmarks (thankfully never had too many of those though, at least compared to many other women). When I gave birth I was stunned by the hideous jelly-belly I was left with, even though it did go down in time! After my first child I lost a lot of weight and although of course my boobs weren’t so pert and my belly wasn’t great, I was quite happy with what I was left with (enough to wear a bikini). I accepted my new ‘motherly form’ and still felt like a human being, at least by 18 months post-birth anyway.

Then came the second pregnancy, and although I didn’t gain as much weight this time around the stretchmarks were worse, and I have been left with a body I would never ever show off in a bikini. I have been pretty devastated by this change and left feeling like a ‘thing’. Not woman but definitely not man! A mother, but nothing more. Sexless, formless, shapeless. My opinion of myself is not changing. Once I stop breastfeeding goodness knows what I will look like then - I am dreading it.

Many people have stressed to me how lucky I am to have two beautiful little boys and I know this, but it doesn’t stop me feeling this way. I dream of winning money and having thousands of pounds worth of surgery to ‘correct’ what has been broken. To be honest, I don’t know if I would go through with it, given the choice. But it’s a nice dream!

Don’t get my wrong, I am not in an eternal depression over the shape of my body! That would be especially shallow considering all what happens in this world. I am quite a happy person overall (although not first thing in the morning lol). I simply go through phases when I am distressed by the way I look - and this is one of them.

I know I am not the only mother who feels this way - I speak to many daily who also feel as I do. The creator of the website The Shape of a Mother knows this, as do many of her visitors. So, whenever I feel down, this is where I go. Often the introduction is enough to help me snap out of my ridiculous selfish self-loathing that serves no purpose!

“One day I sat in a restaurant in Anaheim, California eating breakfast, when a woman passed by my table with her infant carrier in tow. As she lifted it up to fit between the tables, her shirt raised and I saw that, although she was at a healthy weight and her body was fit, she had that same extra skin hanging around her belly that I do. It occurred to me that a post-pregnancy body is one of this society’s greatest secrets; all we see of the female body is that which is airbrushed and perfect, and if we look any different, we hide it from the light of day in fear of being seen. That makes me want to cry. Sure we all talk about the sagging boobs and other parts, but no one ever sees them. Or if they do, it’s in comical form, mocking the beauty that created and nourished our children.

It is my dream, then, to create this website where women of all ages, shapes, sizes and nationalities can share images of their bodies so it will no longer be secret. So we can finally see what women really look like sans airbrushes and plastic surgery. I think it would be nothing short of amazing if a few of our hearts are healed, or if we begin to cherish our new bodies which have done so much for the human race. What if the next generation grows up knowing how normal our bodies are? How truly awesome would that be?”

Maybe, one day, I will post my own photos up there. Who knows.

I just can’t write any more. I sit down and try, then I get bored after about 5 minutes!

This month has been a complete disaster - from fireworks driving me mad, me getting ill, then my boys getting ill, just awful. I knew it could happen but it seems to have all come at once. Currently the boys are both still awake at 8pm, which is the time I start writing. Last night Gabriel cried until pretty much 9pm, poor chap, and then I just couldn’t get into the swing of things.

Now, I just can’t get started. I wish I had someone to kick my butt and get me to write something, but Steve isn’t too supportive of this, and I don’t know of anyone else who is doing it. I think I might visit the Nano forums and look for someone to help before it is too late.

If I start tonight and write every night from now on I can still do this thing, easily. I just have to find the willpower!

Help!

It’s said to be an old wives tale that worry makes your hair go grey, but I beg to differ.

When I had my first son I noticed my very first grey hairs. A year following the birth of our second son, I am getting noticeably grey at the front (and I also am developing crows feet). Ok, so it’s not qute as bad as it may sound, but I definitely notice the difference - and I think my children caused it.

You see, no matter how much a father loves their children, they will never - ever - even begin to understand a mother’s love.

We worry about everything. All the time.

I am terrified when my eldest goes to nursery, and not just because I am leaving him in the hands of a bunch of strangers that don’t really know him as I do. I worry that on the way there someone will drive onto the pavement straight into us; I worry that my eldest will let go of my hand and run into the road or that he will get stuck in the doors of the bus; I worry I’ll accidentally let go of the buggy and it will go straight into the path of an oncoming vehicle.

Once he is there I worry that something will happen to me and I won’t able to pick him up from nursery in time; that he will seriously hurt himself at nursery or another kid will bully him and make him unhappy, or a member of staff will tell him off for something he hasn’t done.

I even worry when we are in the house - every fall, bump, bang or scrape has me fretting that something serious has happened to my children. If they have bruised shins (as boys often do) I imagine social services seeing them and coming to take my babies away. Every cough, sneeze and fever is something more serious in my imagination.

I have to stop myself from checking on them too often when they are asleep. When I do, I go into their room and place my hand on their chest to make sure they are breathing, then I cover them up, and give them a kiss and sometimes a cuddle, often disturbing them in the process. When Nicholas was a baby I would go upstairs every 5 to 10 minutes to see if he was ok. With Gabe I didn’t have to do this - he slept in my bed!

My two greatest fears…well, I simply won’t discuss them here as I will think about them constantly. A slightly lesser fear is me dying and them not having their Mummy around to take care of them. I mean, can I imagine Daddy happily changing nappies, giving them three meals a day plus snacks and reading them nice bedtime stories? Er, I don’t think so.

I think about when they get older and they don’t want to cuddle me any more, and when they can go out alone and something bad might happen to them, or when they leave home and I don’t know what they are up to or if they are safe…

I was just reading the news and saw the headline ‘two year old dies at nursery’ and instantly went into panic mode; wandering around the house crying and hyperventiliating, imagining myself to be the parents of this child and, well, just basically overreacting and freaking out. I don’t know why I even check the news when it upsets me so, but time and again I read such stories that will have be dwelling and moping and thinking far too deeply for sometimes weeks on end. 

Before I had my children, none of these worries existed. Not one.

Now, I do think I worry a little more than most other mothers do - correct me if I’m wrong. But there is nothing I can do about it. I was talking to my Mum the other day and she said that when we were little she was rather like me, and even now she has a moment of panic thinking about us so far away from her. She has one daughter in the states, and I am about a five hour drive from her, and the separation must be dreadful, even though we speak almost every day.

Anyway, if I keep going on like this I’m going to be completely grey by 30 I reckon (yes, and that’s not so far off, I know)!

On the other hand I am catching up with my Nano following a few disturbed nights courtesy of fireworks disturbing the boys, and Steve, who wanted me to game with him. I don’t think he’s too happy that I’m doing this as he doesn’t get to spend any time with me in the evenings now but I try to keep reminding him it’s not forever. It’s just something I have to do; I failed last year, and I don’t want to fail again. I hope it’s worth it.

I did plan on doing around 2000 words a night (over the 1667 words per day minimum), and last night I managed 2167, which I am quite pleased about. I understand that others are doing much more but bear in mind I am writing a maximum of 2 and a half hours a day. My plan is to do two hours a day, from 8 until 10pm. Last night I did about am hour and a half before burning out and needing my bed. Hopefully I can keep this up so that the quantity will be there.

Quality wise, I am distinctly lacking at the moment. Last nights writing was basically a little ranting about ‘I don’t know what to write about’, then a little story about a bug that has no idea what he is doing, followed by a spewed version of ideas for the whole book. Not exactly ‘proper’ story writing. Now, the general rule of Nano is never to delete or edit anything you write, so I won’t be touching it. Instead I will colour the sections I definitely do not want to keep in red, and get rid of them afterwards.

For those who have never done Nano before - this is not cheating. A good method for one with writers block, for example, is just to write. Anything. You soon find that the story grows as your muse slowly comes out of hibernation. It took a couple of hundred words for mine to emerge, and then I was off like a shot. In the process of typing up my ideas, my book also changed from fantasy to science fiction. Having never written sci fi before this should be rather a challenge!

I have also found that by removing my temptation for browsing the net (by not having my PC on in the day) I am getting a lot more done. Time and again I have protested that I would only nip back to my machine now and again to check for msn messages, emails, etc, and it did not affect my day at all. Surprising then how much extra time I seem to have gained, alongside renewed energy for other things. Perhaps spending my first evening relaxing on my own letting my imagination run wild and having a fairly early night, rather than surfing the net and gaming until late, also helped.

I managed to sort some clothes out for a charity collection tomorrow, organise and photo clothes I am going to put on ebay, and gather baby clothes for a family members’ impending arrival; I tidied the lounge up (a task which is now completely undone thanks to my active kids, but never mind); made a casserole which took quite some time; cleaned the hob with the assistance of cheap biological washing powder and a hairdryer (don’t ask); and did random housework tasks. Even managed to put the washing out, which reminds me, must go get it in now.

Isn’t my life just thrilling!

Anyway, I have waffled enough. Am actually quite looking forward to this tonight, although I am again unsure where to start.

Ah well, on with the show!