mumsnet

Thursday 28 June 2012

Here Again!

Well here I am again.  Went off blogging for a while.  Truth to tell I was wary but I'm here again for the same reason I started in the first place.  I have nowhere else to vent....

I'm on my own tonight.  My other half came home for an hour to see the boy and then went back to work.  He's planning an all nighter.  Software is very very important apparently.  At least it takes precedence over me at the moment, as it has for the past 4 months or so.  

Part of me thinks I should be so grateful for what we have: nice house, car, enough money, friends; and believe me I am grateful.   However, the never seeing my partner, then when I do see him seeing his face so etched with weariness he can hardly talk.  The look of annoyed forbearance when I try to make conversation  because he is too tired to respond.  It isn't what I signed up to......

Am I being a selfish brat?  Dunno... Fact is I've reduced myself to writing about it on the internet!  Will he know? Nope, not interested enough to read my blog....

Better stop now.

Saturday 31 March 2012

Saturday Again

I guess I'd better update.  It's been harder to find the time to blog lately -- mainly due to hub working a lot, which means any slack I have at home disappears and when I get to have any time to myself what I really want to do is collapse in front of the telly.

I just looked back at last Saturday's post.  Talk about melodrama!

Still I do recall feeling really low, with really not too much reason.  Question is can you just decide to be really grateful for what you have and feel happy?  I guess you can decide not to gripe about it!

Last weekend turned out to be fun after all.  We repeated the long cycle ride into town with our little one and had a lovely mooch.

This week has been busy for all, characterised for me by two really great yoga sessions and then a few days of gnawing, nagging, sometimes cutting period pains.  Ouch!  My age I guess.  I'm at the stage where I've started to skip the odd period at the usual time, only to find it arrive with a vengeance a month late.  Still I guess I should be looking forward to the next stage in the cycle of life....maybe, perhaps...

Rambling now, nothing to say,  so I'll sign off to another day.

Note to self:  I had a thought about writing some stories that need telling here, in the absence of anything real I need or want to share about my present day.   Might start to get a few down in the next few weeks.

Saturday 24 March 2012

Black Sat

Today I've woken up in the foulest of foul moods.  Don't ask me why.  I'm not sure.  There are various reasons I could offer myself. Hormones are quite likely given my age and the fact that I'm on day 55 of my current cycle. Also the fact that my bloke phoned last night to say he had to work late and I was really peed off with this on a Friday night, having bought nice dinner etc. Got up today at 5.45 to the housework and the same old same old.  Can't even be bothered to go to yoga . Just want to cry really.

I hesitate to type this as I feel dark moods are so much more personal than the usual lalala isn't everything just great Pollyannaish crap that I generally come out with.  Also because I am aware how selfish I am being.  I don't want for anything material.  I am lucky, lucky, lucky compared with so many.

But happiness does not itself spring from lack of want. I know I'm yearing for true meaning and real communication.  Some of my friends find this in their crackpot religions (read all of them here).   I wish I could, but unfortunately I can't take that massive leap of faith without feeling that I'm conning myself.

Heyho - I will post this anyway.  A bit of light and shade is essential in a life and so too a blog.

My plan for now - hub and boy are going to football.  I am going to have a run, maybe do a bit of gardening, and make a plan to give myself a boost out of the oridinary for the forthcoming week.

Will keep myself posted :)
and give myself a kick up the arse.



Friday 23 March 2012

Women of the World Unite

I went to my son's friend's house yesterday so the boys could have a playdate.  His friend's mum taught me how to make little chinese dumplings and we chatted whilst cooking and taking turns to entertain her baby daughter. Had such a nice time.

We talked together about the different approach to raising children in the UK and China and shared our common desire to give our kids a different kind of upbringing to the one we'd experienced. I learned quite a bit in the few hours we spent together.  I was in awe of her ability to communicate complex ideas without a perfect grasp of English and yet such a desire to be understood. Puts my efforts to flail around in pigeon French on holiday to total shame.

I sensed a frustration that is familiar amongst my western compadres in having to reduce or give up totally your commitment to paid, meaningful work when you become a mother.   Some of my friends do manage to successfully combine high flying careers with motherhood, just about.  But what I sensed from my new friend was an awareness of this frustration vying with a sense that she should be grateful for what she does have.  The two feelings in conflict, not quite resolving.

It's something that I forget myself.  To be grateful for what I have. What I have is in fact immense in contrast to the lack that so many suffer and I was reminded yesterday, how fortunate we are to have been born where we were, by mere fluke.  Also how similar we all are, women of  the world,  as mothers, sisters, wives, people, contributors to society, friends.......

Came home and watched John Bishop on the tv nearly kill himself to raise 1.6m quid to help people on the other side of the globe.

Yesterday was somehow quite intense!

Thursday 8 March 2012

Blessings, Gratitude and Love

This week I heard that a friend had passed away at the weekend.  Almost exactly 2 years since she failed to turn up to work, having blanked out while driving in.  She was taken to hospital where it was discovered she had an advanced cancer of the lungs and a secondary brain tumour.   The night before she had left for home as usual,  joking about her plans for the evening, seemingly without a care.

She was 50.

It's fair to say it has hit me.

She was a work colleague who I encountered when starting back to my first new job after becoming a mum.  Being a nervous returner, I was in a role that punched well below my weight.  Yet she saw potential in me and was friendly and encouraging.  It would be true to say that I hold the enjoyable job I have now in large part thanks to her.  She was generous in her willingness to share knowledge, intelligent,  humorous, warm and approachable.   She  liked the film "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button"; had a passionate interest in astral photography and loved gardening.  

Because I inherited her working notebooks, I have found myself happening upon little gems of wisdom in her large, loopy handwriting.  I pulled a database report today and found her name at the top of the list, 2 years after she went off sick. She is still present in the mundaneness of the everyday despite her passing.

Perhaps not surprisingly, this has imbued me with a renewed imperative to seize the day, enjoy life, try everything I want to try, now, not later. To love my loved ones with the passionate urgency that I feel, to show them and tell them, to be a bit less English about it all.....

It has also however, made me wonder how people will remember me when I die.  I didn't know this lady especially well, but I still remember her with great affection and a certainty that the world was a better place because she was in it. I hope I can bear that legacy for others when I finally pop my clogs.

It's funny how a piece of music sometimes entwines itself into your particular mood and remains inextricably linked.

When I first heard that she was ill, this came on my ipod shortly after.  It's somewhat mystical and a bit odd, but it still seems a fit.

"The Hymn to Her" by The Pretenders is my memorial to my friend.

Goodbye my dear wherever you are now. Blessings, gratitude and love. x



Tuesday 28 February 2012

A Scare and a Thing So Incredibly Rare

We are home today  -- largely due to a misunderstanding on my part.   We are all recovering from a nasty virus that has lasted a good fortnight.  The remnants of it seem to be retreating but unfortunately are doing so via small explosions from our bottoms!  How nice....

My little one obviously had one such explosion whilst he slept.  To my horror this morning on getting him up,  I stood looking at what I thought was a patch on blood on his sheet.  Whilst he did his usual morning bouncing routine my brain was racking itself with thoughts of what could be wrong and what should I do.  I only know that blood from bottoms is not good news.

Ultimately we had a chat and agreed to take the day off school and visit the doctor.  Imagine my relief then when on further examining the suspect patch prior to throwing the whole thing in the washing machine I discovered a red pepper skin - nothing more sinister!  Thank god -- still it is too late to get to work on time now and even so I think sending a little to school with a loose bum is probably not in the good parenting manual anyway.  So home we shall stay today.

Didn't blog at the weekend because I had to prepare for a night out on Saturday.  Obviously this took all day because I had to tidy the house for the babysitter coming.  We had dinner out, followed by a viewing of "The Woman in Black" at the cinema complex in town.  Doesn't get much more rare and exciting for us these days.

The film was big on scare factor and from first impression somewhat short on plot.  I didn't think I thought much of it.  However, I have found myself mulling on it since - there are unanswered questions and my mind is desperate to fill in the pieces.  Unfortunately I am also lumbered with a great visual memory and the face of the woman in black keeps returning to haunt me.  Literally whilst I was riding home last night in the dark past woodland.  You'd think I'd have grown out of scaring myself at my age - but no!

I have two further excursions into the lives of the sociable to look forward to in the coming week.   Saturday will see me tapping my converse to the melodies of Matt Cardle.  Whilst Monday will hopefully have me clutching my sides at Dara O'Brien.  I'm writing this because it is a thing so incredibly rare.





Thursday 23 February 2012

Lent Intent

Well, Lent has started and for the first time in many years I am minded to mark it.  

To this effect I signed up for early Sunday morning yoga classes for the duration.   I figure this to be a good combination of sacrifice and praxis.  I forego my, frankly essential and  much anticipated Sunday lie-in to engage my body and nourish my soul.  It is both an act of relinquishing and an act of undertaking.  Hoorah!

I'm really looking forward to it. I have buy in from my hub, who will in turn get to watch the footie on a Sunday afternoon, while I overcompensate by donning  a knights costume and wielding a sword in Narnia play with the boy.

But it isn't the whole story.  The driver in this, is not the yoga -- not really.

No, the prime motivator is the fact that I want to stop drinking wine on a Saturday night, and if I have to rise early on Sunday to exercise there will be less inclination to do this.

There -- said it -- now PHEW!!!

I don't even habitually drink a lot.  Half of a bottle of wine shared with my hub to mark a Friday and Saturday night isn't that excessive I feel. It's just, lately I've found myself looking forward to it a bit too much.  What's more I've been throwing a casual G & T into the mix and this, dear reader, has started to scare me.

If it were just me, or just me and hub, I would quite honestly not be giving this a second thought. I'm not endangering myself particularly or anyone else, or doing any harm, so what?

But it isn't just me any more.

My own parents were problem drinkers.
I know from experience that the impact of this on a child, of any age, is profoundly painful. Even now, at 45 I can't fully examine these feelings without fear that the walls will cave in.  Some day I hope I will be able to from a safe place.

For now, it is enough however, to ensure my son never, ever,  has to confront this particular issue.

I'm using  Lent therefore, to break a habit that isn't currently harmful, but that has future potential to harm.  Because make no mistake, a self-harming parent harms their child by default.  The more the child loves the parent, the worse it is.

Of the several achievements of which I am proud in my life, becoming  a mother is without question the most sublime.  Writing this, I realise that there was a long time when I thought and feared it wouldn't happen and now with the benefit of hindsight I know what I would have been missing.

Every day, I'm reminded of the privilege that it is to parent and I want to be the best mummy that I can possibly be.  

That's all!


Saturday 18 February 2012

Early to Rise - What a Surprise!


Saturday 5.40 am -- "Can we get up now?"

"No, wait till 6 o'clock"

"When’s that?"

"Soon." 

90 seconds elapses.

"Is it 6 o'clock yet?"

Most of my days start like this.  It’s fine in the week because we need to get up and get out early anyway.  Saturdays are harder.  To be honest, the sooner I give in and rouse myself to get downstairs and mainline coffee the better mood I start the day in.  If I stay in bed and try to argue about the time I just end up in a foul mood and certainly no more rested.

I remember doing this to my parents.  I guess its common with early risers and our lad probably gets it from me in the first place. What goes around comes around.

It makes for long and very full on days though and so by 6.30 pm I’m done in.

However, as I lay beside my little miracle just now, as he fell gently into sleep I fell to musing.

A long day yes, but we painted. We bounced on the trampoline.  We went to a local farm and mooched among the rare-breed pigs and cows. We made chickpea curry and apple tart together.

Golden days really.  Who knows what tomorrow will bring?  For today, however, I am thankful for them. Days to be cherished – I’m definitely feeling the glass half full thing this evening. 

Mind you, as I type mine is half empty of gin and tonic, and no doubt that’s helping J

Friday 17 February 2012

The Minutiae of Day to Day Life

What did we do today?  Well, we got up at 5.50 :(((((

Fortunately we could slob out in front of Night at the Museum 2 and I could snooze a bit.  My little man is on the mend but still not right.

The pattern for half term has been: get up and bounce around for several hours, appear totally normal.  Mid afternoon get temperature through the roof, slump,  fall asleep.  Wake up about 6 pm and  bounce around for several hours, get temperature through the roof, slump, fall asleep.

It's not been an easy week, and to think I was so looking forward to the break from the school run.

What did I achieve then today?  We went to town on the bus, had a Pret a Manger salad for lunch and visited the toy shop.  My little one chose a beautiful chariot with horses and an ancient Egyptian figurine as I had promised a gift  to make up for his rubbish week.   So we had a good chat about Ancient Egypt, pyramids and Pharaohs, and how they wrote by "drawing pictures".

Came home, prepared some canvases together, ready to do some paintings for Dad's birthday which is two weeks away.

Made flapjacks.

Put DVD on.  We are currently at the slump, fall asleep..... stage of the day.  Shortly we will be into wake up and bounce around and on it goes.

I've taken a bit of time out to read some blogs this week.  I am amazed by the variety of writing on such a wide range of subjects, so many fab bloggers with so much to say on so many interesting topics.

I started to feel slightly self-conscious.  But then I reminded myself that the 2 blogs I regularly followed before they ceased publication were really about the minutiae of day to day lives.  I like a little peek into other people's daily stuff. Just nosey I guess.  But who knows maybe others will feel the same about me.....

It certainly feels like therapy.


Thursday 16 February 2012

Every Cloud and All That

Having nursed my little one through horrid flu type thing for the last 6 days I have finally succumbed to it myself.  It's a horror of banging head, hurty throat, swollen glands, runny nose and achey body.  No wonder my boy was grumpy.

He is on the mend and likely to be bouncing around the house tomorrow demanding

Mummy let's do some cooking;
Mummy let's do some painting;
Mummy you be Susan (of Narnia fame)

I will do my best, no doubt dosed to the hilt with hot lemon and paracetamol. It's our day together of half-term, how typical!

On the upside, we have over the last week discovered the phenomenon that is Nanny McPhee - wonderful, feel good films.  I'm told by my friend that the Nurse Matilda books on which the character is based are even better. Every cloud and all that....


Wednesday 15 February 2012

Pillar of the Community

 Kate on thin ice asked for 90 bloggers to contribute 90 words about "an important woman in their lives" in support  of Breakthrough for Breast Cancer.   

I wanted to do this, and so I started to think about all the wonderful women in my life.  There is absolutely no shortage. The real difficulty lay in deciding which amazing woman to choose.  My short list comprised : my lovely mum, my beloved sister, my 2 oldest friends, my dearest local friend, my amazing auntie, my mother in law, my sister in law, my niece, my fantastic child minder.  

Without a single one of the women on this list my life would have been so very different in so many ways and I'm taking the opportunity to say a quiet "thank you, to you all - you mean the world to me". 

This post was on my mind on Friday as I sat in the waiting room of my local surgery with my little one who was suffering temperature and tummy ache - the usual childlike ills.  As we were called in, I suddenly knew who to write about. 


I can’t tell her the difference she’s made to me. It would overstep a boundary. Alice, my GP, is after all, only doing her job.  But year after year, despite having two children to raise, she has been a role model, confidante, a source of strength and humour. The woman I have trusted to help me through some of the toughest trials I’ve faced and also some of the most embarrassing and ridiculous. 90 words by no means cuts the mustard - I am so grateful that she has been there. 




Saturday 11 February 2012

Art Attack

My child is inventive and artistic.  He seems to learn by representing the world as he sees it with his own particular slant.  Whether this be by impersonating the Lion King or painting an endless stream of wild animals.  It is a pleasure and a privilege to be party to this.   

From our point of view - his mum and dad it is something of a revelation.  I've done my share of am dram in the past and enjoyed swanning round a stage pontificating in character.  My hub, as it turns out, is a really good representational artist.  He will tell you otherwise, brushing aside his ease with a pencil and the subject of his eye.  However, the fact remains that he holds this particular skill and my son has obviously inherited it. 

All this creative activity has encouraged me to dabble in areas previously untried.  I have never attempted to draw or paint as an adult.  Permission to do so was withdrawn by my art teacher who told me "you can't do it" aged 11. Of course I thought she was right, having grown up to respect the views of my elders. 

Anyway, lately I've been trying.  I'm not good at it.  But I do love it. Blank canvas, images from imagination, beautiful colour replacing white.  The result? Well it's endeavour, if not art. 

I just had an idea and tried sketching it out.  My hub was good naturedly teasing.  The consequence was instant withdrawal into my shell, feeling very silly.  It is amazing that I can recall the voice of that bag after thirty four years.  That I can recall the art room, and where I was sitting in it.  The smell of the powder paint, the dirty bench at which I was working. The physical sense of confidence shrinking in my gut. 

I thought I probably won't try again then. 

Except that I will - I retreated to the shower kinda licking my wound and wondered to myself how much a person could accomplish who was suddenly uninhibited from all the voices internal and external who say "you can't do it".   The answer of course, is a lot more than a person who never tries.    

I recall a quote, not sure from whom, but I don't think it will matter if I try to reproduce it roughly. 

It goes like this: "If a voice inside you tells you that you cannot paint, by all means paint and that voice will be silenced".

I probably cannot paint. But I will anyway, so yah boo sucks Miss Richardson.....

Thursday 9 February 2012

Michael Knows Everything

On the way to school this morning.  

"Mummy do you know Michael really does know everything"

"Hmm, well I always think if someone says that, they probably don't really.  I don't know everything and I'm quite old, Michael is only 5"

"No, he had his birthday so he's six.  Anyway I like listening and I think he really does know lots of things"

Very good.  The child in question is indeed something of a know-it-all. As previously mentioned, this is a trait common to the age group, and some seem more deeply entrenched than others.

I guess I'm facing the first of many situations where my precious child is told one thing by one of his peers and another by me. He prefers Michael's strain of the facts at the moment.  At the moment it doesn't matter, but I guess it will increasingly as he gets older.   I want him to trust me and my judgement.  However he will only be able to really do that if he is able to think freely for himself.

I have a feeling part of the development of free thinking (if it is ever possible)  is having time and space to mull things over in your head. I love it when he says to me "Mummy I'm thinking....."  As long he keeps doing that, he'll be alright.


Tuesday 7 February 2012

Someone Else's Blog

http://lefteyerighteye.wordpress.com/2012/01/26/three-faces-of-feminism-louise-mensch-laurie-penny-and-jodie-marsh/


So I read this.  It's really good and stands entirely on its own.   It articulates beautifully the unease that I talked about in my first post.  I can't better it.   This is the kind of piece that I envisaged myself writing.  Except I don't.  I'm capable of it and yet the anger that these issues arouse in me is so disruptive that for the most part I cannot at the moment. 


Sunday 5 February 2012

Sunday? No Snowday...

HOOrah!!  Says it all really.

15 cm depth of beautiful, sparkly, powdery (but not too), white crystals fell from the sky whilst we slept.  We woke to a glistening blanket this morning.  And the sky was blue.  And the sun was shining.  It was wondrous.

We donned wellies, picked up our sledge and off we went to enjoy it.  Playing in the snow with a 5 year old is very special.  There's a little hill near where we live around which the locals gathered with their various sliding boards to enjoy the occasion.

We sledged for a while and then hit the local coffee shop for cake and hot chocolate before heading home to build a snow man in the garden.

May I never, never, never get too old to enjoy the snow.  I guess one day I might worry about falling, but may it be a long long long way off.

That's all.....

Saturday 4 February 2012

Motivator for Feb 2013

This post is a memo to me.  Do NOT skive off or skip yoga classes henceforth!

I've had a yoga practice of sorts for 8 years now.  Starting strongly with loads of enthusiasm and not much strength or flexibility when I was 37.  I practised 4-5 times a week for about 18 months.  I slowed down when I first got pregnant and then picked up again following a miscarriage.  This continued for another couple of years until I finally held on to a pregnancy and started pregnancy yoga and then baby yoga for a bit when my boy finally arrived.

I have intermittently attended classes since his birth.  A 6 month-ish stint at early morning Ashtanga practice before I started back to work again.  The odd class here and there.  But mainly it has been home practice on a fairly erratic basis.

Since the end of summer last year however, we (as a family) have found 3 slots per week for me to attend my classes.  This is a big step forward and it means I get access to four and half hours per week of led yoga and a real opportunity to build a significant practice again.  I have the chance to progress rather than simply maintain.  

Last Saturday however, I found myself reluctant to go.  I was too snugly and enjoying being in the house too much.  I missed a further session this week again --  though that was largely due to monstrous cramps (or that's what I told myself).  

So when I had that feeling again this morning I ignored it and went.  I'm so glad.  Great practice, great vibe and I got good tips on a new approach to Hare post which usually gives me trouble.  

And this is the point - I don't think I've ever had a class where I've not learned something new.  It is always worth going - even if I really don't feel like it.  I will always be a slightly changed person after.

Thinking back, 8 years ago I couldn't hold a downward facing dog for more than 5 seconds.  Nowadays I love this pose and can stay for a long time.  

I'm currently struggling with hip openers and spinal twists. It would be good to revisit this page in a year's time and see where I am with it all.

A motivator for Feb 2013.

Friday 3 February 2012

Boast Fest

Today I collected three 5 year old boys from school.  Very excited, boisterous and LOUD.  Managed to get them home without hindrance.

Passed two mummies with very young babies in beautiful new travel systems on the way.
 "Ssssh" said one to the boys.  Fairly good naturedly but still with the definite "don't you wake my baby" undertone.

I sympathise, I remember well the endless walking trying to get a young baby to sleep and then the tenterhooks whilst you wait for it to wake and starting yelling again.

But I'm out the other side now - although it doesn't always feel that way.  My little gang tore down the road, shouting, yelling, pretend fighting and laughing.  Into the house demanding popcorn. This age is characterised by  constant one up-manship.  I've got this, I can do this, it's my turn first, I'm bigger, better, stronger than you.   I don't know one of my son's friends who doesn't do this to some extent.  My little one is still trying to figure out how to handle it.  He tends to alternate between trying his own luck in the boast fest and just disintegrating into tears - that's not fair boo hoo!   It can be quite hard to listen to. But I can see it for what it is -- just children finding their way.

It's fascinating though to see glimmers of their genuine individual talents at this age. I'm not into pigeon-holing children but I can see glimpses of the skills they will bring naturally to the world if encouraged to develop them.

 It being Friday night, and now the friends have thankfully done home,  we are settling in for a bit of DVD watching and analysis.   My son is sketching "teddy rosebell" from the film "Night at the Museum" and I am once again marvelling at the wonderful artist he is.  His drawing is meticulous in detail and so much better a job than I can do even now (with some 40 years between us).

Unfortunately as I watch in admiration his little perfectionist streak asserts itself and he throws down his pencil in disgust.

"I can't do the head - that's rubbish!  Waaah"

So young and yet so exacting.

Still it's Friday - nearly clocking off time for me!  Is it wine o'clock yet? I've earned it - honest!


Tuesday 31 January 2012

Need a Gripe

So today hasn't been that great so far.   I'm shattered and it's only 4 o'clock.

No particular reason, you understand, just today I found my tether was well and truly stretched.
It started out OK. Went into work, as I do every day, with a plan of action. I cleared my inbox of the immediately pressing and then settled down to work on an on-going (and going and going and going) project.  It was alright.

Then after a quick break for lunch everything went rapidly downhill.  My bosses boss questioned something I was doing and I spent an hour taking him through some complex rationale for decisions taken 6 weeks ago, racking my brain to recall previous conversations through the stress induced slight fug that seems to affect me occasionally and possibly cyclically.  Got back to my desk where my phone rang continuously. I alternated between answering it and helping an apparently endless queue of people who seemed to appear at my desk one after another and loom imperiously over it until I had responded to their query.  

I heard my nemesis colleague over the way speaking on the phone.  "Oh you need to talk to Ariel, thing is, I'm not sure what time she's leaving, she usually leaves early.  Ariel what time are you leaving today?"

I replied fairly shortly "the usual".

I didn't add, that this is my contracted time, that I have no option but to leave to leg it to school to start shift number two, nor that I am actually on a part-time salary, a fact conveniently forgotten by my department (except of course on pay-day).  The trials and tribulations of a working mum.

Arrived at school in a sort of daze.  Saw my son come out of his classroom and felt the usual warm glow at seeing his little face.   He gave me a quick hug and then disappeared among the throng.  I tried to field the various mummy conversations around me whilst desperately searching him out and eventually located him.

Walking home we have the following conversation.

 "I want to marry Sarah, but she says she doesn't want to marry me" (feigns weeping).

  "Oh dear, why not?"

 "She wants to marry Chloe, but anyway she can't because girls can't marry girls can they mummy?"

I pause, I have no option but to contradict him in this day and age, but still wearily know that this will lead to more questioning.

"Well they can if they want to."

"So I can marry Robert? Hurray I'm going to marry Robert!"

"Well"  I say, "usually your friends stay your friends, but you marry the person you fall in love with.  I thought you were going to marry Trudy....."

Walk on, thinking "please change the subject".

Happily, up ahead are the speed bumps in the road and beyond this the haven that is the sweet shop.

"Ooh look, the sweet shop" I say.  "Can we go over the bumps?" "Yes of course"  "Hooray!"

Hooray indeed!

Sunday 29 January 2012

Good Sunday

My husband had a idea.  Why not cycle the 5 odd miles from our village into town along the river.  We could have lunch, mooch a little and then wend our weary way home to curl up and watch a dvd.  Sounds fab?  It does for 2 adults.  But for our little 5 year old who has only been cycling since November?

Well we did it and he was wonderful.  Little tot cycling alongside his dad chattering his little head off.   "Why are these boats here?  Who lives in them? What if their clothes fall in the river? Why are people cycling on the 'no cycling bridge'?  That's naughty!"  Stopping every 5 minutes to scratch his bum and with a brief winge about cold hands he was nevertheless an absolute trooper.  I am so proud of him.

We bought Ice Age 3 Dawn of the Dinosaurs in town.  My hub and I were looking forward to getting home in the warm and snuggling down with our intrepid explorer for some quality family time with pop-corn before hopefully an early night.

Think none of it - animated Tarzan was on when we turned on the telly.  Cue my boy stripping to his pants and jumping around the room belting his little chest.  His energy knows no bounds.  Wish I could say the same for us!

He is now finally in bed asleep and so I am signing off now to go watch Ice Age 3 (or  Top Gear) with my husband and some popcorn......

Tired but happy.

Thursday 26 January 2012

Antigone -- Respect!



So I became a vegetarian aged 11.  My thinking was that I loved animals and cared not so much about killing them to eat -- after all plenty of animals kill for food.  It was more that it was wrong to keep animals solely for the purpose of making a profit from them and then ending their lives in a way that would induce suffering. 

This I imagined would generally involve a trip in a van  followed by slaughter that would be incredibly stressful.  Poor animals suffering adrenaline inducing fear with nowhere to expend it.  At least an antelope can use its survival instinct to run away I argued and if caught will have died trying to escape.  The horror of a flock of sheep in a van going off to slaughter still fills me with revulsion.

For a while I put this to the back of my mind and stood by the argument that it is fine to eat well kept animals who have had the dignity of a good life so between the age of 20 and 22 I ate organic meat, delighting in the opportunity to slow roast and stew and indulge my palate for that deeply savoury, richness that can only come from red meat.

However, I wasn’t comfortable with myself and from 22 to 40 I was once again a lacto/ovo vegetarian.  

What happened at 40? 

Well I became mum to my wonderful strapping son and being a new mum to a much wanted child who hadn’t been easily come by I was determined to do all I could to nuture him according to the super dooper fantastic mummy manual – the one we all read and then threw at the wall 6 weeks down in disgust because the baby wouldn’t follow it.  

So I breast fed my boy on the hour for 40 minutes at a time.  When there was no more to give I would put him in his pram and walk for an age to get him to sleep.  Then we’d arrive home and the cycle would start again seemingly without break, day into night, into day.   About  6 weeks into this I saw an advert on the telly for steak and my exhausted, iron depleted body roared like a lion.  We had steak and chips that night and boy did I need it.

Well 5 years on and I’m not nearly as exhausted and ready to think about resuming my meat free life.   There are many reasons, and I wont blog them now, that wasn’t my intended point.

My point was to rail at the utter crass stupidity of some of my noxious work colleagues.  I happened to mention that I’d become veggie again and wondered aloud whether the scotch broth served in the works canteen that day was meat free. 

I was instantly subjected to an aggressive attack along the lines of “oh I couldn’t do that”, “rather you than me”, “do you eat fish though?”, “ah but aren’t you wearing leather shoes?”    I hadn’t invited commentary on my lifestyle simply by asking if the soup was veggie. I regret the query, to put it mildly!

When I was 16 we studied Anouilh’s Antigone for French A Level.  I massively identified with the anti-heroine.  A young girl who stubbornly insists that she will stand up for what’s right, even if it does no-one living any good.   There’s a wonderful scene in which she describes the stupidity of her guards, with their chapped hands and bovine looks, drinking and thinking of nothing but playing cards.

Antigone  - respect!!!

Then and now.


Unfortunately I have to work with their ancestors :(

Tuesday 24 January 2012

Angry and Sad

I'm hesitant to start this one because of the anger I feel over it.

On a Saturday morning my child goes to football.  He goes together with many of his friends from the local primary which is a delightful mix of multiple nationalities.  We are fortunate that he has the benefit of growing up with friends whose parents hail from countries near and far including China, India, Pakistan, Japan, Cameroon, Poland, Ireland, France, Iran.

My take on this is completely positive.  I am so pleased that in his formative years my boy will get the chance to form real friendships with children who have a different cultural heritage.   We are lucky in our little Southern English village to have this level of diversity and only good can come of it in my opinion.

An incident was reported on Saturday whereby a team manager had told a non-Caucasian boy that he wasn't listening, which was true enough.  The man then suggested that the child would be more attentive if he was spoken to in his mother tongue and proceeded to annunciate some pigeon rubbish, presumably meant to mimic.

Apparently casual racism is alive in the eastern counties and there is no shame in directing it at young children.  

What's worse is this person will likely be known among the community as a nice chap and anyone calling him on his behaviour would be told he meant no harm, it was just a joke.  Some of my best friends etc......

Not acceptable, not acceptable at all.

The child happily was oblivious.

I am getting worked up again thinking about it.

When you think to yourself about having kids and bringing them up there are things that you don't want to consider.  Having to teach children how to deal with racist bigotry from adults entrusted with their care is one of them.

In Defence of the Cyclist

So tonight I cycled in to yoga.  It was wet, cold, dark.  I didn't mind the ride.  As fore-mentioned, I quite enjoy it.   Tonight something spoiled it - a not uncommon incident.

I confront a busy main road at rush-hour.  To my left is a convenient pelican crossing which I use to cross the road safely.  Having crossed, my destination lies approx 100 metres ahead located off a side street to the right. I can't cycle on the road now  - I'm on the wrong side .  However, there is a wide pavement, easily able to accommodate the sparse pedestrian population and a bike.  Particularly when a cyclist as careful as I am is using it.  So I ride slowly, and mindfully past an oldish lady, dressed head to toe in fur (extraordinary, but that for another day).

"Cyclists should be on the road" she spits at me full of ire.  So much so,  it takes all I have not to be really rude back.  The point is, I know strictly speaking, the law is on her side.  However, there are times when it would be so easy for pedestrians and cyclists to share the byways.  Particularly when they would generally accommodate a double decker bus.

In many cases now councils have made this legal by the painting of one half of the pavement red denoting a cycle area.  I often encounter pedestrians on my side - am I rude to them - no I'm not, I simply cycle round them carefully.

This is worthy of note because I come across the attitude a lot and I don't understand it, particularly yelled out of car windows, as happened just before Christmas.  There's a lot of anger directed at cyclists by pedestrians and car users alike.

Most of us are harmless, just wending our way in as green and as non-aggressive a fashion as one can imagine.  We really don't deserve it!

Thursday 19 January 2012

Time on my hands

What are you doing at the weekend?

On Friday mornings I do the school run and I’m often asked this question.  It will likely be asked tomorrow.  Quite often I say "nothing".  Quite often too I feel compelled to think of "something" fun we can do, because after all it is the weekend. 

On Saturdays generally, up at 6 as usual and following the usual round of breakfast and general domestics I leave the house. I cycle the 5 odd miles to the yoga studio and do a 90 minute yogaflow class,  whilst my hub takes our son to his football session.   I cycle home, get lunch and then after a flurry of general tidying, throwing a wash in, and maybe ironing the uniform for the following week we might go to meet my friend in the country park for a wander and a natter with the kids.   It’s nice.

However it is a busy day in a similar way to the week.  Up, school, work, school, home, cook, son's bedtime and either I go out to yoga or my hub goes out to some sort of exercise. 

There's not much time to do nothing. Let alone read, think, or do some of the things I'd quite like to explore before I "croak" as my dear brother would so eloquently put it. 

I'm out to dinner with some work colleagues this weekend.  I turned down an evening out next week because it feels a thing too much, but I did feel guilty about doing that. 

Sunday past, unusually,  we didn't do much. We stayed home and spent the morning playing with paints in our pyjamas.  In the afternoon my son and I set up an "art gallery" in our kitchen.  We had music on, we both hummed along.  My hub got a bit of time to himself and  I realised how much I need that day really to prepare for the week ahead, practically, emotionally and mentally.   

It would be good to do that again this week.  


Tuesday 17 January 2012

Dragons and Halflings

So, if you should find yourself in the company of a dragon and a halfling, remember you do not have to fight the dragon...... you just need to outrun the halfling.

This was written on the front of the t-shirt of the guy in front of me in yoga class.  I read it upside down whilst he was lying on his back and pondered, then he sat up and the punch line was on his back.  It made me smile.

Then it made me wonder.  I'm never that person.  I would always, always, stand and fight the dragon.  Sometimes this has got me into trouble and more worrying I may have put other people at risk.   It brought to mind an old memory.

I recalled hearing a woman screaming in a public toilet off a main road. It was 11am on a Sunday.  People hurried by looking shifty and a bit concerned.  I was astounded that this was possible. So approaching a "respectable" looking, biggish, chap who was at least looking as if he heard the sound, I asked "shall we do something?" in a tone that brooked no argument.

We approached the building, "you go in first and shout if you need me" he said.  I went in.  The screaming came from a local, well known, dosser warming herself underneath the hand dryer.  It was a distressing sight, but not in the way myself or my fellow bypasser had suspected.  I came out, "it's just a bag lady".  "Oh" says the guy looking very relieved and then shouts out "stop making that noise".  We part company, both feeling we've done our bit.   We hadn't of course.  What could we do?

On the subject of doing ones bit, and off at a tangent,  this blog is hard to keep up.  I know its early days and I want to keep trying.   However, it is so hard to find a right time to fit it in what with work and wife-hood and motherhood and friends to see sometimes and trying to keep my yoga habit up to some extent. I have a feeling that I really need this though, so I need to keep trying.

This is written on the hoof whilst my son, is baying for "information" from the internet, by which he means pictures of carnivorous animals which he can take great pleasure in reproducing.  There's little time to think much or just to be quiet......

ho hum

Thursday 12 January 2012

Blissed Out

Monday nights go like this.

Beloved arrives home from work and takes over as primary parent for a while.  I kiss goodbye and hop on my bike into the cool, dark night. Cycle the 5 odd miles into town come rain or shine mulling over events of the day. I like this quiet thought time.

Arrive at the yoga studio and go in to claim a space.  The room is hot and sultry, lit only by candles and the several wall mounted heaters which give off a gentle heat and a twilight glow.  The room becomes very full, very quickly.  It is also quiet.  There's something of the spiritual in the room without a doubt.

The fabulous teacher starts to talk through the sequence - it's the same each time.  26 postures performed twice on each side of the body.  It is rigorous, demanding in the heat, and yet fills me with a profound calm.

90 minutes later rejuvenated, wrung out, washed clean and re-enthused for life my middle aged body unlocks my middle aged bike and we head home together in a fabulous daze.

I feel younger than 45.  Partly because I wanted to never lose the wonder and tenacity of the questioning child I was, I think.  But these Monday nights are another reason why.

Tuesday 10 January 2012

Odd

Unremarkable day for me.  Up at 5.45 - the usual...

The "news"  media are running the story of a celebrity chef who has been shoplifting from his local Tesco.   On all the programs I heard, the discussion is remarkable in its lack of condemnation.  The consensus seems to be that because he could obviously afford his shopping , he must have been stealing due to some life trauma, depression, or problem for which he needs help.   He didn't need to steal and therefore it's forgiveable.

Seems strange to me.  Today I also read about parents in Athens who are handing their children over to charity organisations to care for because they cannot afford to feed them.

The two stories have nothing in common.  However, it did make me think that people are often more likely to condemn those who act out of genuine physical need, that those who don't.

As if people think its easier to deal with having too little food or money than too much?

Odd.

Sunday 8 January 2012

First Sunday

So, part of my resolve for this year was to create a space where I could come on a regular basis to let off steam a bit about things that get my goat but don't seem to bother my peers that much.  Generally these "things" relate to pop culture which I find increasingly sexist and disrespectful to the female of  the species.

This bothers me particularly because having grown up in the South of England in the 70s I saw horizons clipped for girls.  They broadened throughout the 80s and 90s.  It seems to me for whatever reason that the tide is turning again and I'm so depressed at the fact that many of the 80s generation perceive feminism as a dirty word having benefited so much from the sheer grind of the 70s feminists who went before.

I hope somehow I can unpack these thoughts here, and just articulate some of my unease.  I don't have the time or desire to join a group.  My beloved husband deserves a break:)  My dear friends often have other (more pressing) concerns.  However, this may just save me from packing my facebook status with an ire from which I can't ever return. I'm dangerously close.

Resolves early on are i) keep the blog anonymous at all costs, this is a space where I can say what I think without the risk of offending someone close to me; ii) try to keep it on a regular basis for a year at least; and iii) wait and see if it is beneficial or if it just becomes a chore.

Have to say it feels a bit odd at the moment, maybe it will get easier?......

Saturday 7 January 2012

Starting Out

So, my first blog post.  2012 is the year I get a create a safe rant space for myself. Not typing much for now, cos I'm not sure how this works. Will post and see....

A bientot (maybe!)