http://www.whitecut.com/index.htmlHot News!enuser@domain.comCopyright 2011 Christian Fletcher2012-04-13T17:05:44+01:00 hourly 1 2000-01-01T12:00+00:00 Fri, 13 Apr 2012 19:29:32 +0100user@domain.comThoughts2012-04-13T17:05:44+01:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/9b19409de3949480c04f4d680b6f7720-48.html#unique-entry-id-48http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/9b19409de3949480c04f4d680b6f7720-48.html#unique-entry-id-48what’s exactly real out of the window staring blankly
have one more smoke, drink yet another cup of coffee
stained, infected, torrid taste of salt rains perpetually
nothing special or unique, cold hard stolen mundanity
a love shared, a life so lost, the question of mortality
the sun, the moon and the stars shine down on me
it makes no difference, it really makes none utterly
what could have been, sheltered hopes so safely
and the last time I saw your face, you sang so sweetly
but the affection of your laugh taunts my memory
over and over and over, no more will you say… ‘Daddy!’
]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-04-11T13:29:14+01:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/f5311e86a10b2cacc32f24d183542d49-47.html#unique-entry-id-47http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/f5311e86a10b2cacc32f24d183542d49-47.html#unique-entry-id-47A thousand tears that sedate me,
Tracked and mourned then gaped.

I’ve slept, I’ve slept and I’ve slept,
A thousand dreams that awake me
Tossed and turned then ached

I’ve crept, I’ve crept and I’ve crept,
A thousand thoughts that engage me,
Blamed and found then shamed.

I’ve hate, I’ve hate and I’ve hate,
A thousand fears that enrage me,
Bottled and blurted then bolted.

I’ve wrote, I’ve wrote and I’ve wrote
A thousand words that escape me,
Rhymed and reasoned then sheltered.

Behind the tears.
Behind the dreams.
Behind the thoughts.
Behind the fears.
Behind the words.

I weep, I weep and I weep.


]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-04-08T23:33:42+01:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/3cdccf47c286790798a1dae81790d108-46.html#unique-entry-id-46http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/3cdccf47c286790798a1dae81790d108-46.html#unique-entry-id-46he
the
ethe
gethe
ogethe
ogether
together]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-04-08T23:28:58+01:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/6a92f6c813049fd1e330fbb034940003-45.html#unique-entry-id-45http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/6a92f6c813049fd1e330fbb034940003-45.html#unique-entry-id-45My hours are slumberless
Dearest the shadows
I live with are numberless
Little white flowers
Will never awaken you
Not where the black coach of
Sorrow has taken you
Angels have no thought
Of ever returning you
Would they be angry
If I thought of joining you?

Gloomy Sunday

Gloomy is Sunday,
With shadows I spend it all
My heart and I
Have decided to end it all
Soon there'll be candles
And prayers that are said I know
Let them not weep
Let them know that I'm glad to go
Death is no dream
For in death I'm caressin' you
With the last breath of my soul
I'll be blessin' you

Gloomy Sunday

Dreaming, I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you asleep
In the deep of my heart, dear
Darling I hope
That my dream never haunted you
My heart is tellin' you
How much I wanted you

Gloomy Sunday

Songwriters: SERESS, REZSO / JAVOR, LASZLO / LEWIS, SAM M.
]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-03-04T10:34:53+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/8cdcc2a696160900e2a5481a0659a5a6-43.html#unique-entry-id-43http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/8cdcc2a696160900e2a5481a0659a5a6-43.html#unique-entry-id-43oneliness
onelines
nelines
neline
eline
elin
lin
li
i
.]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-03-03T15:57:41+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/8856c62c8e6a1b44146b4af696b81289-42.html#unique-entry-id-42http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/8856c62c8e6a1b44146b4af696b81289-42.html#unique-entry-id-42The clock is frozen in the tower,
The thickening fog with sooty smell
Has blanketed the motor power
Which turns the London streets to hell;
And footsteps with their lonely sound
Intensify the silence round.

I haven't hope. I haven't faith.
I live two lives and sometimes three.
The lives I live make life a death
For those who have to live with me.
Knowing the virtues that I lack,
I pat myself upon the back.

With breastplate of self-righteousness
And shoes of smugness on my feet,
Before the urge in me grows less
I hurry off to make retreat.
For somewhere, somewhere, burns a light
To lead me out into the night.

It glitters icy, thin and plain,
And leads me down to Waterloo-
Into a warm electric train
Which travels sorry Surrey through
And crystal-hung, the clumps of pine
Stand deadly still beside the line.

John Betjemen

]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-03-03T14:22:21+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/cf3aa6c57be232fe1ed92d92015fb090-41.html#unique-entry-id-41http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/cf3aa6c57be232fe1ed92d92015fb090-41.html#unique-entry-id-41 Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so
That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever!
I know when one is dead, and when one lives;
She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass;
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
Why, then she lives.

KENT
Is this the promised end

EDGAR
Or image of that horror?

ALBANY
Fall, and cease!

KING LEAR
This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so,
It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows
That ever I have felt.

Shakespeare ‘King Lear’ Act 5 Scene 3]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-03-03T13:10:10+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/08f67aa6e8417a5a1fe878f77ba03e47-40.html#unique-entry-id-40http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/08f67aa6e8417a5a1fe878f77ba03e47-40.html#unique-entry-id-40user@domain.comThoughts2012-03-02T15:59:51+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/86dd8975ee07a48b2579dd936ba6e991-39.html#unique-entry-id-39http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/86dd8975ee07a48b2579dd936ba6e991-39.html#unique-entry-id-39everything’s been said
Aching to stay strong,
tears are still so dread.

When the night is long,
the memories that I tread,
now that you are gone,
exhausting emotions bled.

How to make a rhyme,
of strength to carry on,
with burden of my time,
and the setting of the sun.

]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-21T14:34:54+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/ca7c5fca16fcaf535e1b0d6df98d53cc-38.html#unique-entry-id-38http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/ca7c5fca16fcaf535e1b0d6df98d53cc-38.html#unique-entry-id-38

I was going to write how things seems to have moved on for me now. I was going to write that the deep despair has slowly been replaced by a sense of melancholia and the tears have dried up. I was going to write these things then I spent the last hour crying. The loneliness is biting and incessant.

Herbie would never wear socks (or shoes if he could). He ran barefoot through his life, living in the moment, living through his joy and pain, through sunshine and rain. If I have learnt one thing from his short life, that is to run barefoot. Don’t take for granted the things you have, because it will all change in a heartbeat. I’m going to run, barefoot in the head.
]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-21T13:26:11+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/4b736cb3e12b086f8ac6f26ca6378d08-37.html#unique-entry-id-37http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/4b736cb3e12b086f8ac6f26ca6378d08-37.html#unique-entry-id-37Tibetan Book of the Dead.

One of the earliest characteristics of early beliefs was the intimate sense of being part of a chain of life stretching back into the distant past. As can still be seen in certain parts of the world today, such cultures are marked by a profound reverence for the ‘ancestors’, who are looked upon as a living presence. The highest duty of the living is to please the ancestors, by maintaining those inherited customs and beliefs which enshrine the tribes collective spiritual identity. This gives significance to every aspect of their lives. The death of an individual is seen merely as marking a moment when he merges back into the collective whole, which connects them in turn to the spirit which animates the universe.
]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-21T13:16:13+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/4969a5dd416518deb2988beef5daeec0-36.html#unique-entry-id-36http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/4969a5dd416518deb2988beef5daeec0-36.html#unique-entry-id-36Observe degree, priority and place,
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,
Office, custom, in all line of order;
And therefore is the glorious planet Sol
In noble eminence enthroned and sphered,\Amidst the other; whose medicinal eye
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil.
And posts like the commandments of a king,
Sans check, to good and bad. But when the planets
In evil mixture to disorder wander,
What plagues and what portents, what mutiny,
What raging of the sea, shaking of earth,
Commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors,
Divert and crack, rend and deracinate,
The unity and married calm of states
Quite from the fixtures.

Ulysses in Shakespeare’s Trolius and Cressida i.iii]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-21T12:42:03+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/bb1f55f111ebdc6ef92b9bc743e74fa8-35.html#unique-entry-id-35http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/bb1f55f111ebdc6ef92b9bc743e74fa8-35.html#unique-entry-id-35Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl’d
But now I only hear
It’s melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Matthew Arnold (1867)]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-21T11:36:33+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/46fe17ddf9e4078b08c82172e2f9a299-34.html#unique-entry-id-34http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/46fe17ddf9e4078b08c82172e2f9a299-34.html#unique-entry-id-34user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-20T09:06:14+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/0d8b68fa7aab8bd11ca144f012cb5f8d-33.html#unique-entry-id-33http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/0d8b68fa7aab8bd11ca144f012cb5f8d-33.html#unique-entry-id-33Samuel Beckett, Malone Dies.

Portishead ‘Third”
We Carry On (Live)]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-13T14:36:41+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/03e1fa9983dc1179908a57a96bf21082-32.html#unique-entry-id-32http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/03e1fa9983dc1179908a57a96bf21082-32.html#unique-entry-id-32Greenwich park, and Shrewsbury Hill
Whizzing along, scooters and bikes
Collecting leaves, grass and twigs
Goals scored. Good try but frustrated
It’s Bin lorry day! It’s Bin lorry day!
“Hurry up!” Meander along, no haste
School runs but home time always late
Run races, beat Nennie to open the gate
Oh dear, fallen and hurt ‘Make Herbie sad’
Magic Plasters for your blisters and cuts
Tired now, long day, comfy with Blankie
She-she, CBeebies, medicine, then sleep.

Now I’m left in the dark.


Now I’m alone in the park.

]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-12T22:33:36+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/8c40a56174071b12b4be5f67161f61cc-31.html#unique-entry-id-31http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/8c40a56174071b12b4be5f67161f61cc-31.html#unique-entry-id-31Heavenly Peach Banquet]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-12T22:31:19+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/a84d8abd446e191da222d5a438339f12-30.html#unique-entry-id-30http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/a84d8abd446e191da222d5a438339f12-30.html#unique-entry-id-30An Ending (Ascent)]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-12T22:28:51+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/d30228fcfeaf716bf8044e71a000a9a9-29.html#unique-entry-id-29http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/d30228fcfeaf716bf8044e71a000a9a9-29.html#unique-entry-id-29Avril 14th]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-12T22:14:11+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/e2665f12cdb9edee4af8b984b460bf43-28.html#unique-entry-id-28http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/e2665f12cdb9edee4af8b984b460bf43-28.html#unique-entry-id-28Lux Aeterna [Winter light]]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-12T21:55:38+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/7589978324b12198d2a61302dfcc8670-27.html#unique-entry-id-27http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/7589978324b12198d2a61302dfcc8670-27.html#unique-entry-id-27A Swan Song (For Nina)]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-12T20:32:19+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/70a7c3cf2d269b1d727e89c8f0fe2e96-25.html#unique-entry-id-25http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/70a7c3cf2d269b1d727e89c8f0fe2e96-25.html#unique-entry-id-25Memories and function
An electrochemical wash.
Epilepsy fucks things up
And the medication
A fucking chemical cosh.]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-12T19:23:26+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/ef70651a9b5b20cec9715c68e99badba-24.html#unique-entry-id-24http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/ef70651a9b5b20cec9715c68e99badba-24.html#unique-entry-id-24Wake up. Jump out
His eyes half open
His bottom lip is blue
Call 999, call 999
Motionless, surely not true.

Herbie…. it’s Daddy!
Too late. Too late
His eyes half open
His bottom lip is blue
Call his name, shouting now
Here’s the ambulance crew.

Herbie… his name is Herbie!
Resuscitate. Resuscitate
His eyes half open
His bottom lip is blue
On the floor, shirt cut open
A one two, one two, one two.

Herbie…. my Herbie!
Exasperate. Decimate
His eyes half open
His bottom lip is blue
Silence, no emotion
Nothing. Nothing we can do.

]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-09T21:47:49+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/21e61ea759fbdca05f4591cd05376603-23.html#unique-entry-id-23http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/21e61ea759fbdca05f4591cd05376603-23.html#unique-entry-id-23
Sad is a place
that is deep and dark
like the space
under the bed

Sad is a place
That is high and light
like the sky
above my head

When it’s deep and dark
I don’t go there

When it’s high and light
I want to be thin air


This last bit means I don’t want to be here
I just want to disappear





Excerpt from
Michael Rosen’s Sad Book
Illustrated by Quentin Blake
[Walker Books 2004]]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-07T21:59:21+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/9e4ce32a96259d8eedd539721b73515d-22.html#unique-entry-id-22http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/9e4ce32a96259d8eedd539721b73515d-22.html#unique-entry-id-22Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Shakespeare ‘Macbeth’ Act 5 Scene 5]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-07T21:45:26+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/7f1f24bf9734ad2a721e1efd92a00bcf-21.html#unique-entry-id-21http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/7f1f24bf9734ad2a721e1efd92a00bcf-21.html#unique-entry-id-21Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

Shakespeare ‘Hamlet’ Act 3 Scene 1]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-07T18:45:02+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/0b8ec6ddafbe20376f16910ac3d9165f-19.html#unique-entry-id-19http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/0b8ec6ddafbe20376f16910ac3d9165f-19.html#unique-entry-id-19After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience

Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand not lie nor sit
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mud cracked houses.
If there were water

And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water

The Waste Land (1922)
T.S. Eliot]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-04T01:40:23+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/2b8132638e62121e9ac1c3dbe94cec9b-18.html#unique-entry-id-18http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/2b8132638e62121e9ac1c3dbe94cec9b-18.html#unique-entry-id-18Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-02-03T01:05:58+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/4611e2595e0564f5d43951c3622d9e55-16.html#unique-entry-id-16http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/4611e2595e0564f5d43951c3622d9e55-16.html#unique-entry-id-16
Our own futures are both free and empty.

I want to move forward but I keep tripping up and stumbling. ]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-01-26T10:46:19+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/92f30958925421c7b3099079feefd37f-15.html#unique-entry-id-15http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/92f30958925421c7b3099079feefd37f-15.html#unique-entry-id-15by the Velvet Underground.

One, two, three
If you close the door
the night could last forever
Leave the sunshine out
and say hello to never

All the people are dancing
and they're having such fun
I wish it could happen to me

But if you close the door
I'd never have to see the day again

If you close the door
the night could last forever
Leave the wine-glass out
and drink a toast to never

Oh, someday I know
someone will look into my eyes
And say hello
you're my very special one

But if you close the door
I'd never have to see the day again

Dark party bars, shiny Cadillac cars
and the people on subways and trains
Looking grey in the rain, as they stand disarrayed
oh, but people look well in the dark

And if you close the door
the night could last forever
Leave the sunshine out
and say hello to never

All the people are dancing
and they're having such fun
I wish it could happen to me

Cause if you close the door
I'd never have to see the day again
I'd never have to see the day again, once more
I'd never have to see the day again

After Hours
]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-01-26T10:06:08+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/617de1d31827288101307ca42d21e3ad-14.html#unique-entry-id-14http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/617de1d31827288101307ca42d21e3ad-14.html#unique-entry-id-14
I know he was hard work and it was the incessant enthusiasm that was so tiring but without him, life is too quiet.

He was our beautiful burden. ]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-01-22T17:23:44+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/a6d65d0bec098db11dc10c9f8609f4a6-13.html#unique-entry-id-13http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/a6d65d0bec098db11dc10c9f8609f4a6-13.html#unique-entry-id-13
“Can a shadow get hiccups?” or “…how did my tears came out all on their own?”

She has generally coped amazingly so far. She has expressed her loss on occasion, her confusion is also apparent. Whenever things get too melancholic or I am unable to answer her questions we try to talk about all the good times we had, or the funny things Herbie used to say.

“I don’t want the dinner cooking! I want it in my tummy”

The days are exhausting though, followed by the restless aching silence. All the thoughts, all the preoccupations in my head — round and round, continually. To put an end to the quiet, to break it up and disperse it, to pretend at any cost that it isn't there. Ah, but it is; it is there, in spite of everything, underneath all the silence and distractions.]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-01-22T17:16:45+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/235c4022b1a88db4e5f9c0a0c7ed757c-12.html#unique-entry-id-12http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/235c4022b1a88db4e5f9c0a0c7ed757c-12.html#unique-entry-id-12
It was a small family funeral. However over 20 teachers and parents from his school attended. They closed the school in the afternoon so teachers and assistants could pay their respects. It was very overwhelming and beautiful gesture.

Our Eulogy was read, ‘Away in a manger’ and ‘Here comes the sun’ were played. We had packed his back pack with drawings, photos, a comic, some pencils and paper, a circle of wooden train track and some trains, a bucket and spade, a spare top and trousers, a banana, an orange, a lollipop (vanilla ice cream flavour) and a packet of crisps. Along with some roses we placed everything on the coffin, then left. It was a short ceremony and respectful. (Herbie would have hated it, being so quiet and having to be behave ;-)


Mirela and I would like to thank everyone from the bottom of our hearts. Love.

]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-01-20T01:21:01+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/b76c284c4b018e45750eccfb3c25978b-11.html#unique-entry-id-11http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/b76c284c4b018e45750eccfb3c25978b-11.html#unique-entry-id-11
These may be the saddest and hardest words we will ever write.

The beginning was nine and a half years ago, but the end was recently, so we will start from the end.

It was the beginning of the Christmas holidays. Holidays we always spent with close friends and family. Herbie, our little sausage and Nella were very excited. It was the day before Christmas Eve. The big night was nearly upon us.

We spent Friday with Kai and Isaac, our amazing nephews. We played games, cooked bacon sandwiches for lunch, went to the park  through wind & cold and treated ourselves with sweets bought from the corner shop on the way back home. We bought Fizzy Super Sour Gum & Refreshers and Herbie chose a packet of crisps, which we were pleased about as he was about to start a Ketogenic diet. In the afternoon we decorated the Christmas cake that we made earlier on. Everybody then helped cook roast chicken for dinner. 

The next day was Christmas Eve. We spent every year at my sister's house, Malin & Julian have always made their home extremely welcoming for us. Herbie loved going to their because he believed he may get a sleep over, he would practically put his pyjamas on as he walked in the door.

Christmas was always trebly exciting as there were presents and food. We had another fantastic day with a visit from Santa, Swedish Smörgåsbord, some fantastic presents for all the children from Mormor and Baba. The 'Swedish christmas' part of our traditions. The only difference this year was that we have moved closer, so Mirela drove the 20 minutes to our new home.

Christmas Day, the English tradition. Up early, Herbie and Nella telling each other about their stocking presents. We had to get going as we were going for a walk with Bertie the dog. Then a delicious roast dinner, the last of the presents, christmas cake, mince pies & trifle. Herbie was delighted that he was allowed to have seconds and maybe even thirds. After games of cards, trains and hide and seek we set off home again that evening, with a car full of presents and full tummies. 

The happiest moment of the evening for me and Mirela was the drive home that evening through the country lanes. We were listening to festive hymns, carols and readings on the radio. Nella had fallen asleep straight away but Herbie was awake, although sleepy too. As we drove, I heard him singing to himself quietly. I asked him if he was singing. He replied "Yes I am Daddy". We exchanged the most beautiful smile we will ever remember. He carried on singing "Away in a manger" along to the radio until we arrived home. Herbie took his presents, a farm and a new track to his room, and we couldn't resist getting it out of the boxes and setting it up.  He wanted his stocking presents next to him as he went to sleep, perhaps because he knew there was chocolate inside. Herbie went to sleep late that night, happy and content.

[ ‘Away in a manger’ The Choir of Guildford Cathedral ]

The next morning was quiet. 

All I can add is that Herbie's journey was totally unique. He made us all smile at least once every day. We shall miss all the laughs and giggles as well as the tears, blisters and tantrums... Most of all we shall utterly miss the sunshine he bought into our lives.

We loved him with every beat of our hearts. He loved us back more than that. 

He left us the memories of nine and a half years with him and those three magical days we all had together. He doesn't feel any pain, sadness or loneliness. We are utterly devastated, but we have each other. We all need each other more than ever.

Hold the ones that are close to you. Then hold them closer still. 

We would like to thank from the bottom of our hearts everyone who touched Herbie's special life. 



Sweet dreams & thank you Herbie.  
Love not tears.
Christian, Mirela and Nella

[ ‘Here comes the sun’ Nina Simone ]
]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-01-15T23:35:11+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/cd485ee06083c9546e5af5bfbb2c7a59-10.html#unique-entry-id-10http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/cd485ee06083c9546e5af5bfbb2c7a59-10.html#unique-entry-id-10
“Your time is limited, don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma, which is living the result of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition; they somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”
Steve Jobs (February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011)]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-01-15T10:02:41+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/eb62ec2807b94b21ed16746f6f3f4aa9-9.html#unique-entry-id-9http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/eb62ec2807b94b21ed16746f6f3f4aa9-9.html#unique-entry-id-9
Early on in his diagnosis we decided we would not wrap him up in cotton wool instead we would try to live as normal a life as possible. Cycling, swimming, bus journeys were all some of his favourite things so we were determined to do as much as possible. Herbie was not disabled or epileptic or special, Herbie was Herbie, a little boy who loved to be just that. Did we go too far? Did we bluster through and not consider carefully enough how challenging this was for him?

We recently moved home to be nearer to my family, my Mum and sister essentially. This meant he had to change school and our routines were all disrupted. Then of course we had the Christmas holidays. I wonder if all these things combined were too much for him. I swear I would have stopped anyone of them if I had a feeling it was too much. But I really do wonder if it was all too stressful.

I figure I will be asking myself these questions for the rest of my life. I hope I will be able to forgive myself. I am really sorry Herbie. I know my best just wasn’t quite good enough but I really loved you with all my heart. ]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-01-15T00:10:08+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/bbade5213447852b0e9badeda4d727e9-8.html#unique-entry-id-8http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/bbade5213447852b0e9badeda4d727e9-8.html#unique-entry-id-8user@domain.comThoughts2012-01-14T23:55:28+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/8681475dd5719fb0f231d70e86b9a765-7.html#unique-entry-id-7http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/8681475dd5719fb0f231d70e86b9a765-7.html#unique-entry-id-7Most of the time, people with epilepsy recover perfectly well after a seizure. A very small number of people die due to an injury that has happened because of a seizure. In some cases, there’s no clear reason why a person with epilepsy has died. If a person with epilepsy dies unexpectedly, and no obvious cause of death can be found, it is called sudden unexpected death in epilepsy (SUDEP). Sometimes, it is called sudden unexplained death in epilepsy.

How often SUDEP happens
In the UK, about 602,000 people have epilepsy. It’s estimated that SUDEP causes about 500 deaths each year. Some people with epilepsy have a higher risk of SUDEP than other people with epilepsy.

The causes of SUDEP
SUDEP has been shown to be connected with seizures, but the exact cause is not known. Research suggests that seizure activity in the brain may sometimes cause changes in the person’s heartbeat or breathing. Very occasionally this may cause the person to stop breathing and not start again.

Risk factors of SUDEP
There is no way of predicting who will be affected by SUDEP. But the single most important risk factor is uncontrolled generalised tonic-clonic seizures. This is a type of seizure which causes the person to lose consciousness. Their body goes stiff and then starts jerking.

Each person with epilepsy has their own level of risk of SUDEP. It can occur in people who have seizures very often or very infrequently. However, the risk is thought to be higher, the more seizures you have. The risk of SUDEP in people who are seizure-free is very, very low.

Here are some factors which may increase a person’s risk of SUDEP.

Having generalised tonic-clonic seizures
Not taking anti-epileptic drugs (AEDs) as prescribed
Having seizures that are not controlled by AEDs
Having sudden and frequent changes to AEDs
Being a young adult (in particular male)
Having sleep seizures
Having seizures when alone
Drinking large amounts of alcohol

Information from Epilepsy Action http://www.epilepsy.org.uk/ ]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-01-13T09:45:18+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/2d933ad61124b72f85497b72e1d678b7-6.html#unique-entry-id-6http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/2d933ad61124b72f85497b72e1d678b7-6.html#unique-entry-id-6
Is it cathartic or is it self-pity… the truth is I don’t really care, I can only do as I feel is right, as each situation arises. ]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-01-02T11:00:27+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/c78bd5d4c06ed2395089471d5f61418f-4.html#unique-entry-id-4http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/c78bd5d4c06ed2395089471d5f61418f-4.html#unique-entry-id-4
Brian D'Arcy celebrates Christmas at Leeds Cathedral with festive hymns, carols and readings. Featuring the BBC Radio 2 Young Choristers of the Year 2011, school children from across the Leeds diocese, Huddersfield Boys' and Girls' Choirs, Bradford Youth Choir, and Leeds Cathedral Choir. Accompanied by the Metropolitan Brass Ensemble, organist Benjamin Saunders, and conducted by Christopher McElroy. Music includes O come, all ye faithful, In the bleak midwinter, Silent Night, and Ding dong! Merrily on high. Producer: Simon Vivian.

An excerpt from the service that we shared together.
Away in a manger]]>user@domain.comThoughts2012-01-12T09:49:11+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/ea048e83f83b45ec15f8cee3bb729d9d-3.html#unique-entry-id-3http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/ea048e83f83b45ec15f8cee3bb729d9d-3.html#unique-entry-id-3
The three words that keep cycling through my head are 'I miss him' 

Everything reminds me of Herbie. The sunshine, the rain, litter on the street, ice-cream, bicycles, shoes, the list is endless from the insignificant and mundane to the obviously personal. A memory, a thought, a shared experience is evoked in some way or other. I mentioned to someone that the blue sky reminded me of Herbie, they said 'that's lovely' I was horrified. If something as omnipresent as the sky makes me cry.

It's going to be a long, hard and lonely road and there’s no turning back. ]]>user@domain.comThoughts2011-12-29T20:32:46+00:00http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/2e994334ac83b827f5d319e7ed5c02c0-0.html#unique-entry-id-0http://www.whitecut.com/blog/files/2e994334ac83b827f5d319e7ed5c02c0-0.html#unique-entry-id-0