The Bluestocking - where the laugh emoji is sorely missed.

[MyrtleLion]

Welcome to the Bluestocking Arms!

The company is always sparkling, the drinks are always sublime, and the cakes are mysteriously free from gluten, sugar, calories, and troublesome booze… not that you’d ever notice. 😏

Our enthusiastic team of gerbil waitstaff is ably supported by capybaras, quokkas, and other charming creatures who excel at their jobs while looking outrageously adorable.

You will find many things to laugh at - usually out loud - so take care not to spit out your tea. We are considering a petition for the return of the laugh emoji - just as soon as the AI gerbils learn how to spell.

New Bluestockingers are always welcome. Men can pop along to The Staunch Ally nearby.

Currently also knitting a Woolly Hug blanket for Bluestockinger Swashbuckled. Details here if you can knit or crochet a square before the 18 July.

www.mumsnet.com/talk/_chat/5350941-woolly-hugs-desperately-sad-news-we-are-afraid-making-a-blanket-for-lovely-swashbuckled-whose-son-has-tragically-died

You are all so lovely.

Boiled; I love that picture of me and the gerbils.

I will listen to those songs, Marie and Fuzzy.

Woley, what a lovely offer.

I’m driving to the nearest city now, to collect my daughter. It’s lovely to feel your collective warmth as I set off. ❤️

Oh swashy, I’m so sorry your parents aren’t there for you.

😰

There's a song by Rush, The Garden. It was the last song on their last album. I first heard it years after my mum died. To me it's a song of remembrance. What we leave behind when we're gone, even taken too soon

In this one of many possible worlds, all for the best, or some bizarre test?
It is what it is – and whatever
Time is still the infinite jest
The arrow flies when you dream, the hours tick away – the cells tick away
The Watchmaker keeps to his schemes
The hours tick away – they tick away
The measure of a life is a measure of love and respect
So hard to earn, so easily burned
In the fullness of time
A garden to nurture and protect
In the rise and the set of the sun
‘Til the stars go spinning – spinning ’round the night
It is what it is – and forever
Each moment a memory in flight
The arrow flies while you breathe, the hours tick away – the cells tick away
The Watchmaker has time up his sleeve
The hours tick away – they tick away
The treasure of a life is a measure of love and respect
The way you live, the gifts that you give
In the fullness of time
It’s the only return that you expect
The future disappears into memory
With only a moment between
Forever dwells in that moment
Hope is what remains to be seen

In one of many possible words the Bluestocking is real. We'll raise a glass to those we love.

Those are beautiful lyrics, Cake.
We've been finding poetry in unexpected places, haven't we?

Neil Peart wrote some amazing lyrics. I'll forgive them their youthful passion for Ayn Rand. It's a lovely song.

Phew! Thank goodness.

Raising a glass for Swashy 🍹. Beautiful lyrics Cake. I saw Rush live many years ago, it was a time when the words were almost more important than the tune. Very different to now.

I wish I lived nearby and could come round for lunch. Delicious herbs, marvellous salads ... and brilliant conversation as well

I'm so sorry, Swashy. Unsupportive parents are very hard to deal with. It must be compounding everything that you feel.

Grief IME doesn't go through neat stages, and it can hit you out of the blue when you least expect it. You can only grieve in your own way, at your own pace. The delay to the funeral must be very hard.

Thinking of you often.
xx

There was some fillet pork in there as well. And white wine. It was delish.

You know what's in the garden that I do NOT like. Thunderbugs.

How can something that tiny bore holes in human skin?

What?????

An unsatisfactory link, that basically says 'yes they bite, yes it's painful and irritating, so what?'

www.whatsthatbug.com/do-thrips-bite-humans/

Dear Swashy,

How lovely that you are still popping in to the Bluestocking from time to time.

I was very moved by your post, the pain and sorrow is so immense, and comfort can come in some unexpected small ways. I love the thought that the little gerbils can come and hug you and try to comfort you and that Rosy the red panda can also offer her friendly presence. Boily's pictures of you are just so beautiful.

I know the Bluestocking is an imaginary place, but stories are what hold us together. We need stories and we need pretend play. Doesn't matter how old we are. I may be rather dim moose in the Bluestocking but I have a human woman's heart, a real human woman that is me. I feel so sad for you and that your parents have been unhelpful in your time of need. You said they weren't loving anyway, and perhaps they are unable to respond to such a dreadful death, and have no idea how to help even if they wanted to, so they have put distance between you. It is their loss too, that they have run away and feel unable to comfort you.
I am glad that you are here at the Bluestocking and that we, all of us, animals and human, feel deep love and connection for you, and that's real.

A friend once said to me after her mother died that "grief is a full-time job," and it is really good to know that other people do recognise the need for grieving, and the need for someone to just be there. Your daughter is there.

Sending much love,

inky

😱

I like the word "thrips", it's very satisfying to say, but I don't like the actuality of them.

Thrips can do one.

Also horseflies.

Swashy, I am thinking of you. I'm glad you have your daughter visiting for the weekend, and I hope you are able to arrange the funeral soon. That forced wait for the next step must be immensely painful.

I had thrips over the winter on Sun Wukong, my Monstera adansonii, and my Syngonium, the plant with no name. Feckers! 😠 I didn't know they could bite although I suppose it's really stab. As if I needed another reason to dislike them.

A friend of mine's father died (in England)last year and it was months before they could bury him, for all sorts of complex reasons - none of them sinister, all administrative and capacity-related.

I made the suggestion that the family could first have a 'spiritual funeral' where the immediate family said their goodbyes to their father in what he meant to them, what they remembered best, what they would miss most, etc. and made some gesture or little ceremony of letting go of that aspect of him.

Then when it was possible, they could have the formal funeral, and say a different and more public goodbye to the human form that the person they loved had inhabited.

I don't know if my idea felt right for them, I didn't pursue it with them, but it might be a way to deal with these long long waits for that important definitive point where you know you have to return your loved one to the universe from which we all come and will all return.

@Swashbuckled

💙

Sigh, image review on a go slow

Did you know that horseflies don't bite you as such, they sw their way in, making two little cuts? That is how you can tell that a bastard horsefly got you: two little dashes in the middle of the itchy bit - as if the saucer-sized swelling wasn't enough of a giveaway.

Thunderfly season here at the moment. You pop out to bring in the bins, and come back with half a dozen little travellers - two on one arm, one on the other, one on your neck, one crawling along your hairline and one on a leg. You go to dust one off, and discover that it has a greenfly as a friend.

I know we should be glad if we have lots of insects, and I'm very glad to have them, so long as they're not on me.

Or sucking the blood out of my plants.

Dearest Swashy, if it isn't terrible that your darling son died, the abandonment by your parents, who have also had their grandson die, is monstrous - and not even a call!

I'm so very very sorry that all of this has happened to you, and the agony of waiting for the funeral must be unbearable.

If you're not religious, you might consider a Humanist funeral, humanists.uk/ceremonies/funerals/blog/what-is-a-humanist-funeral/ where the Celebrant will write you a personalised and unique ceremony just for Bear. They will talk to you about his life. This might be a soothing way of getting through this period.

You can find a local Celebrant here:
https://humanists.uk/ceremonies/find-a-celebrant/funerals/

I wish you all the best, and that you can find peace.

You can always just comment here, without talking about Ted, if that's easier. You're always welcome and often mentioned xx

The gerbils are making sure your galleon is ready whenever you need it xx

Flippin' heck, Edith, what a Nature Red in Tooth and Saw picture you paint😱
It sounds like you should have somebody like that Bear Grylls chap around to bring in your bins, I wouldn't risk it myself