WARNING ... THIS IS GOING TO BE BORING!

I grew up in a village called Mossbank, close to St Helens, Lancashire, England.  For those who remember it back in the 50's, it was a pocket of country in the industrial north.  We were surrounded by farms and woods; we could play out at night in the dark and take off all day without any cause for worry.  It was thanks to our local farmers that I acquired my lifelong love of animals together with a realistic attitude towards the place of some of them in the food chain.  I also learned how to sneak raw peas out of a field ... and to ride very fast bareback ... and that pigs really prefer clean pens ... and that mothers of children like me hose them down before they allow them in the house.

I was disgustingly spoilt as a child; my brother and sister (10 and 8 years older) and my parents surrounded me with love.  School sorted that one out, however; I found out that I was not the centre of everyone's universe!

After eight years at the Convent of Notre Dame in St Helens, where my mother sent me at the age of 3 (going on 4) because I was driving her nuts *g* .. I spent another 7 years at Huyton College.  Both schools were wonderful; I would give my eye teeth to be able to find, or afford, the same for my children (oh help! only one left that qualifies .. I mean grandchildren).  If anyone ever reads this and knows anything about Huyton College or its male counterpart, Liverpool College, please email me.  I can't seem to find it listed on the net, and in the 21 years I have lived in Canada, I haven't been back to England to revisit old haunts.  Been too busy and too broke.

I spent almost 7 years at the University of Newcastle on Tyne studying dentistry, but that career took a nosedive when I married a Canadian, got pregnant within six months and, three months after our son Chris was born, moved to this country for good.  Unfortunately in those days Canada didn't take as high a view of English university training as the English do *g* and I never did get to practise.  However, after the birth of Jenny, I did use the skills acquired during many working vacations to set up a medical transcription business and, when clients suggested it, started to explore the world of accounting.  I found it fascinating, and it became my main business when my marriage ended in 1985.

At that time I was busy rebounding from what I perceived as an intolerable relationship into another one.  Given that this second marriage produced my third and darling child Jane, it was not all bad.  Eventually, thanks in large part to my friends I had met on the Internet, who were deliberately there on-line for me during the trial in 1996, I survived the culmination of a three year long desperately stressful (and expensive) divorce.

Now we get to the good bit.  Marc and I met on the net shortly after the above was all over.  At that time we weren't "interested", we just became friends, and as the friendship progressed it ripened into something more.  In mid-August 1997 we met, and on September 23, 1997 we started on our trial run of living together (who says Brits can't be taught to be cautious?).  Well, the rest is history; despite howls from across the world about not inviting anyone to the wedding *G*.  We decided on Monday, booked it on Tuesday, and were married on Wednesday, January 21, 1998.

Now we only have Marc, myself, and Jane at home.  Chris is at college, Jenny has left us and is planning on presenting the first grandchild in December, 1998.  Watch this spot; grandmothers, I find, are notorious for forcing pics of their grandchildren on everyone *g*.  My parents live nearby; my brother lives in Arizona, and my sister is still in England but visits frequently.  Marc's parents and his sister are in upper New York and I am dying to meet them.  Even the travel is not as much a problem as finding someone who WANTS to look after 7 cats, 2 dogs, 3 horses and 20 chickens for a week or so.  Any volunteers????