Nazanin Zaghari Radcliffe

Yesterday thanks to Boris Johnson, a young mum visiting her family in Iran, was given a 21 year sentence for training journalists.  She collapsed in shock.

With a Foreign Minister like Boris there is no hope for the future. He constantly puts his foot in his mouth and shoves it right down.

He is constantly guarded and protected from dismissal, when he is the worst Minister in office today.  Others guide him and try and project a moral compass for him but it doesn't work.

As for me I have never felt worse in my health, but this has made me come alive to try and help in whatever way I can.

So it you are reading this, tweet Boris to do something to free her, tweet No.10, tweet your own PMs. Facebook, Blog etc.

This young woman won't live another year under this strain.  Please lovely worldwide readers please push to get this poor lady freed.

Thank you.

Been a while

Sure has, found it hard to write some days.

Today I am waiting to hear if my little rescue cat of a year old has cancer.

Heard from my Doctor that my heart is not working as it should - so that's scary - he's put me on different tablets to sort it out.

Fingers crossed.

I'm so exhausted I can hardly move and finding it hard to look to the future.

Many of my friends are struggling with their own lives, so I can't talk to them.

My husband's career is really starting to take off, while I feel I'm wearing out.

Life Jim, but not as we know it.
Quote from Star Trek's Spock.

 

Hair

This is my real hair colour on the right, my son is on the left - used in a card design for my business in Cornwall.  Called Coppernob Design.

Someone else has taken the name now.  Just as well, with all the illnesses I've had recently the top of my hair is white and the bottom half is red.

Being a redhead is part of me,  I loved it.  My distinctive hair colour pleased me. Both my sisters and mother and father had black hair. Black Irish from the Spanish who were wrecked on the shores of Ireland after the failed Armada attack.

But I like my Irish grandad am a throwback to the Vikings, another invading force. I have freckles and very white skin, not like the olive skin of my two sisters.

I want it back, not just the colour of my hair but my health. I want to have long red hair and be back in Cornwall where I was happiest, looking out of the bedroom window at the cobalt blue sea.

Oxfordshire is pretty, but it doesn't suit me. I feel I've lost my identity here, and certainly my health.  

I want to shop in Truro for a treat on Saturday, go to the Penlee Gallery on Sunday and look at the exhibits and have a coffee. Perhaps it's just a holiday I need, it's been a very hard year.

We're going to St Ives for New Years Eve.  Looking forward to it. It's always fun. Last time it was with friends and family. Since we moved back to be with everybody for some reason we are now "billy no mates" and spend our time mostly alone.  

Feeling ill and nostalgic today as the year winds to it's close. God 2016 was bad enough but 2017 topped that with cherries on.

For the past six months I have been in hospital, visiting A&Es, at the Doctor, at the specialists, carted off with a minor stroke, just this week already 2 visits for Llabrinthitus a nice new illness foisted on me because I didn't have enough!

Last week only the Hospital, the Doctors, the opticians. Seems never ending.  I feel I have achieved nothing this year apart from keeping alive and I have to thank my Guardian Angels for that - they are amazing.

Even my Sealed Knot adventures have been curtailed. 

I didn't realise how lucky I was until it was all gone, at my best I had a house in Cornwall of my own bought after my divorce, a little motorhome, shared a house in Buckinghamshire with my new husband, had a great job, my Sealed Knot, my family around me, a reasonable amount of health.

Today I sit alone feeling morose, (which is one of the after effects of a stroke), they tell me.
Trying to make sense of it all.

I haven't written much.  No energy.

This is the most I've written for weeks.

Will write again when I feel a bit more cheerful and less sorry for myself.